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volleygeniusAh.... that was delicious. Marui leans back in his chair and pats his stomach with satisfaction. God, he's so full. It's a good feeling, if not nearly a frequent enough one anymore. Money's been scarce since Dad died a year ago. Five mouths is a lot to feed with no solid breadwinner, especially when one of those mouths is his.
They've adapted, though. No choice for otherwise, right? Mom started assisting at the tailor's. Grandma went to market every weekend to sell the baked goods she made with him the previous day. And he... well. Marui figured out pretty quickly that he wasn't good at long hours of hard labor. He did okay as a street performer at first, but even knife juggling got old for people when they saw it every day. Gambling on his archery worked for a while after that, until his marksmanship became well known enough that most were no longer willing to wager their own skills against his for a chance to earn back double their ante.
The latest gig was a mix of the first two ideas, putting on performances with volunteers willing to wager whether he could steal something off of them-- in front of the audience-- without their noticing in exchange for a participation fee. If he couldn't, they got a bigger cash prize. The audiences still had a blast, but the volunteers were going the way of the archery rivals. Seemed he was going to have to figure out a new way to rake in the cash.
Well, it'll work out somehow. Maybe he can pick up a few odd jobs around town until he figures out his new moneymaker. Of course, that doesn't help him with the tab that's delivered moments later. Oof, that's a lot of money... Okay! Better make this a good one.
Turning the sheet over, he spends a few minutes scribbling on the back, lays it face down on the table, and discreetly slips away towards the exit.
They've adapted, though. No choice for otherwise, right? Mom started assisting at the tailor's. Grandma went to market every weekend to sell the baked goods she made with him the previous day. And he... well. Marui figured out pretty quickly that he wasn't good at long hours of hard labor. He did okay as a street performer at first, but even knife juggling got old for people when they saw it every day. Gambling on his archery worked for a while after that, until his marksmanship became well known enough that most were no longer willing to wager their own skills against his for a chance to earn back double their ante.
The latest gig was a mix of the first two ideas, putting on performances with volunteers willing to wager whether he could steal something off of them-- in front of the audience-- without their noticing in exchange for a participation fee. If he couldn't, they got a bigger cash prize. The audiences still had a blast, but the volunteers were going the way of the archery rivals. Seemed he was going to have to figure out a new way to rake in the cash.
Well, it'll work out somehow. Maybe he can pick up a few odd jobs around town until he figures out his new moneymaker. Of course, that doesn't help him with the tab that's delivered moments later. Oof, that's a lot of money... Okay! Better make this a good one.
Turning the sheet over, he spends a few minutes scribbling on the back, lays it face down on the table, and discreetly slips away towards the exit.
