Sunday
His nose twitched. He was growing considerably annoyed. The gaudy silver/golden hair that he tried so hard to push out of his eyes fell back over them, and he’d finally given up.
Taak glanced back up at his opponent, his jagged eyes not giving away his true emotion. He looked quickly back down at the five cards that rested elegantly in his left hand. He tried fighting back a smirk, for he knew he had a winning hand. In his hand rested four kings: the king of diamonds, jacks, spades, and hearts. He also had a loose ten in which was at the end; there wasn’t anything to do with that.
A smirk appeared on his opponents face. The man puffed his expensive cigar; the smoke emanating the surrounding area. Taak could almost read his large face perfectly. His opponent had a good hand, yes, but it wasn’t nearly as good as the full house he had sitting in front of him. A broad smile surfaced on the face of the enemy across the table; a deep voice then filled the room,
“Maro rosuto.” His Japanese dialect was quite irregular, but Taak could translate what he said as ‘you lose’. Taak watched as he slammed a two-pair down on the table. He had two tens and two fives in his hand. Taak couldn’t hold back his smirk any longer. Not only did it appear on his face quickly, but came with a grunt, “Hm,” he began. Taak thought he would interrogate his opponent a little bit before ending the game and winning a rare duelist card: ‘Elemental Hero Dark Neos’. Taak began speaking again, “O-namae wo oshie-te kudasai.” The rough Japanese translation to English is, ‘Tell me your name’.
The man across the table snarled, slamming his gigantic hand down on the table,
“Iie!” he screamed. This means no.
Taak stretched his arms, making sure he didn’t reveal his cards yet. He knew the man was anxious to see what he had to play, “Bakkin!” (Fine!) Taak gashed back, “Kuso gaki,” he muttered. (This can be translated as ‘you little devil’) He neatly placed the four kings out onto the table, looking back up quickly at the man’s face to see his reaction.
The man’s face grew from a musty yellow to blood red,
“CHIKUSHO! NAN-DAYO OMAE-WA!?!” Taak got a little nervous, speaking in English by accident, “What d’you mean who the hell do I think I am? I’m the one that just beat you! Pay up!”
The man’s left eye twitched. He obviously didn’t understand what Taak just said,
“Motto yasashii kotoba de itte-kure-masuka?” His voice was a little calmer, but the words were still harsh. The translation is: Could you please say that in simpler language?
Taak knew he was referring to Japanese as the simpler language and English as the tough language. Taak stood up, matching the man’s height. He then smirked; muttering the words his opponent had earlier, “Maro rosuto.” (You lose)
The man lowered his head, and Taak had no clue of what was coming. The very large man slung his arm out quickly, a curled fist at the end of it. He crashed his fist into Taak’s jaw, sending him flying back into the wall in pain. The room they were stationed in was very dim. It was a closed room in which the small, round, wooden table lay in the middle.
Taak slammed into the wall, gripping his jaw and trying to focus on something rather than the pain coursing his veins. The man walked slowly to where Taak stood, looking down on him,
“Dewa mata, teme kono-yaro.” (See you later, you ‘female dog’)
Taak rose slowly from the ground. He was pissed, but he knew in a million years he could never take this guy on. He wasn’t a fighter, he was a scammer. He scammed and ran, this was his life. Taak spat. Blood flew from his mouth and he glared back up at the man in who turned around and started walking back towards the table. Taak curled his fingers, making a fist, “Kenka uten noka?” (You looking for a fight?)
The man stopped his slow walk instantly. He turned around; his eyes wide,
“Kangaete-mite! Omaesan sentou ware?” (Think about it! You...fight me?) He bursted into laughter.
Taak’s nose twitched, “YES! I WILL FIGHT YOU! C’mon scum!” He was annoyed and began talking in English again.
“Wakarimasen.” (I don’t understand)
“I know. That’s the point. Hit me!” Taak’s plan of intimidation seemed to be working. The man’s face was turning red again, “You caught me off guard the first time. But swing again and you’ll be the one laying on the ground in pain!”
The man screamed. He hated not being able to understand what Taak was saying,
“Chikusho! Kono aitsu!” (Damnit! You creep!)
Taak smirked, his lip began bleeding; still in pain from the hit, “Kerio tsuke-yoze!” (Let’s finish this now!)
The man balled his fist, swinging at Taak again. He aimed for the same spot he had last time. Taak was ready this time. He ducked the blow and struck the man in his stomach with his right fist. Taak was fast on his feet. His slender body type allowed for max speed while running.
The blow Taak landed on the man did absolutely nothing to affect him. The man grunted; merely laughing at the hit and looked at the spot Taak once stood in. No one was there. The man snarled, whipping his body around to see that the door was open, and swinging loosely. Taak escaped very quickly. The man glared back down at the table. There was no card.
“AAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!! CHIKUSHO! IKKENAI! KUTABARE!” (Japanese swear words) The man ran slowly towards the door and then outside. He saw Taak near the end of the alley and began swearing again.
Taak was bolting fast down the alleyway. He whipped his coat over his body, for it was growing cold outside. He had his thin suitcase full of the rarest dueling cards in his right hand. He had to catch a train to the airport before it was too late. In that poker game in which he rightfully won, he’d finally gotten the card he needed to complete his collection, and planned on starting his scamming business once he snuck into the duelist academy.
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Taak raced down the alley. He was moving very quickly. He breezed past a couple of Japanese thugs, moving so quickly they didn’t even get a chance to try and see who was running. Taak glared up, entering an opening in the alley and passing a sign in which read:
Tore-n Sute-shon. There was an English version of the sign in which translated as:
Train Station.
Taak slowed his sprint to a walk, confronting an attractive woman dressed in a peculiar outfit. She obviously worked at the train station,
“Nijuu yen,” she claimed in that of a bored tone. (Nijuu is twenty in Japan. Yen or ‘en’, is currency in Japan.)
Taak’s eyes widened. He’d forgotten he was going to have to pay to use the train. He put his suitcase down slowly, quickly stabbing his jacket with his hand; searching for money. He pulled out his wallet, opening it, and peering inside. Out came sixty American dollars. “Chikusho,” he swore out loud.
“Gomen…deyou iza.” (Sorry…move now.)
Taak swore again. He had to think quickly if he wanted to catch a plane to the duelist academy, “Umm…hajimemashite?” (How do you do?)
The woman was irritable,
“DEYOU!” she shouted again. Taak’s Japanese dialect translated this word as ‘go ahead’, but she was using it in the context of ‘move’.
Taak picked up his suitcase, stuffing his American money back into his wallet, “O-namae wo kite-mo iidesu-ka?” (May I ask you your name?) He was still trying to distract her, for he had something devious up his sleeve.
“DEYOU, ONNA-TARASHI!!” (Move, you play-boy!) Her face was turning red.
Taak, at the speed of light, flung his hand into his coat sleeve and pulled out a loose feather protruding from the inside of the sleeve. He hid it well. He waited nearly three seconds and a slight wind finally struck the sky. He let the feather go, still making sure she hadn’t noticed it. The wind whipped the feather around low next to the ground. It dipped, turned, and brushed the back of her leg where there was bare skin in between her long sock and long skirt. She nearly jumped out of her skin, whipping her head around to see what had brushed her leg. She made sure everything was alright, and a second later turned her head back around to swear at Taak. When she centered her vision on the spot he was once in, there was nothing. Taak got into the train before she got a chance to turn around!
Taak glanced back, smirking as he glared at her through the window. She didn’t notice him speed into the train.
“Patsuken,” he thought, watching her confront the next person in line. (Patsuken is 'dumb blonde' in Japanese.)
Not 5 minutes passed and the train was speeding off, heading towards the airport in which he would catch a plane to the island. Taak rubbed his hair, leaning his head back on the leather cushion. So far he had successfully completed all that he needed; hopefully his skill in deviousness would continue to guide him in his trek to duelist academy…
Sunday
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