The spirit world is broken and in desperate need of a restoration. True heroes and ancient beasts that once walked are now a thing of the past. Between the empty spaces of forgotten treasure halls there are whispers of one who has returned. One lege...
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Thirty-seven.
The number of noodle orders Ritsu had served that day.
Eighty-three.
The amount he had been tipped that same day . . . in change.
"Sweet immortal peaches," Ritsu swore as he prepared to balance yet another bowl swollen with noodles on a thin, chipped plate. He had spent enough time in the spirit world to understand that it was appropriate to speak these words in times of unchecked injustice, which to say was pretty much constant for Ritsu. Tonight, however, his luck was particularly rotten.
Circumstances forced him to cover the shifts of two spontaneous no-shows. Ritsu somehow always got stuck with the crotchety, cheap customers. The ones who expected to be waited on like lords and were never happy with anything they ordered. And yet they still managed to devour everything. The tips they left behind made Ritsu unable to decide if he was being mocked or pitied.
When he had first arrived in this corner of the Ninth Heaven, he desperately needed a job. This one was about as pleasant as a pile of tiger shit, but he didn't complain.
These days, however, he didn't know how much more he could take.
"At it again, Sideburns?"
Thrice went the clang of the metal spoon's concave surface against the greasy wall. Ritsu turned to see the head of a life-sized fly – his boss – ducking through the opening into the kitchen.
"You don't get paid to stand around and make faces in the broth. Get back to work!"
Ritsu waited for the fly spirit to turn away before sneering. He garnished the noodles with a sprig of cilantro before delivering the order without ceremony. He'd given up trying to appeal to the better nature of this particular customer.
Ritsu deliberately chose not to hurry back to the cramped, sweaty kitchen. His feet took him to the edge of his assigned section near a booth occupied by an uncommon customer.
Correction, Dear Traveler – an uncommonly beautiful customer.
Even through his periphery, Ritsu could tell that she was some manner of arthropod spirit, like his boss. But unlike that overgrown housefly, this girl did not openly express her feral essence. Same as Ritsu, she chose to adopt a more mortal appearance, even going as far as wearing modern clothes.
Of course modern was a relative term in the spirit world.
With a loose leather jacket detailed in fringe and matching boots that climbed up her strong thighs, this customer could have easily warped in from a disco era. Her hair was the only contradiction. No iconic afro, but rather thick, glossy braids that cascaded down her back, blending with the leather fringe along her jacket's seams.
Ritsu took his time wiping down an already clean booth. He found himself trying to commit the customer's face to memory. Under all that leather and fringe, there was a regal posture that could not be faked despite the hunch in her shoulders as she savored her order of hot tea.
