"…"
Riku hesitated a bit. Maybe he should just leave this place. Who would've thought that in this world, his appearance would still hold him back?! Seriously, who could've guessed that having demon horns sprouting from his head would make people think he's picking a fight? This isn't some dark medieval fantasy like Berserk, right?!
While Riku was caught in his indecision, an elderly woman with grayish-white hair approached him, holding a glass of sake in her hand.
"Sorry, kid. He's just had too much to drink. He's not like that when he's sober," she said softly, her voice warm and gentle, like a wise oba-san from an anime who's seen it all. She set the glass down on the table as she spoke.
"This drink is my apology on his behalf. Don't hold it against him."
The old woman's hair was gray, and she wore a knitted purple sweater with a sleeveless black jacket over it. No flashy gold accessories, just a grounded, practical vibe—like a retired sensei who still commands respect.
"This…"
Riku wasn't used to this kind of calm politeness. He hadn't been in this world long, but he'd already gotten accustomed to its rough, wild energy, like the chaotic streets of Night City in Cyberpunk: Edgerunners. This woman's kindness threw him off.
"Thank you, ma'am. I get why he acted that way, but… the reason I look like this is kinda hard to explain," Riku said, trying to be polite in return. If she was showing respect, he'd return it threefold, like a true shounen protagonist.
He thought about explaining the goat horns on his head but gave up. How do you even begin to explain something like that without sounding like you're from a shounen manga with a cursed bloodline?
"No worries, kid. Everyone's got their own story. You don't need to explain. That guy was in the wrong. We've got our traditions, but we can't force them on others," the old woman said with a kind smile, shaking her head. Her words were so warm and understanding, it was almost intimidating—like meeting a sage character who knows exactly how to ease your soul.
"Thank you," Riku said, feeling her sincerity. This wasn't just polite small talk; she meant every word, like a mentor figure in a Studio Ghibli film.
"Look at that! Mrs. Wells is out here solving everyone's problems again!" a voice called out.
Jack Wells swaggered over, throwing an arm around the old woman's shoulders with a playful grin. He was clearly poking fun, but his tone was full of affection.
This old woman was his mother, Guadalupe Alejandra Wells, known to everyone as Mrs. Wells. She was the owner of the Wild Wolf Bar, a legendary figure in her own right. Riku had already figured that out. No wonder everyone in the Valentino Gang—no matter how tough—treated her with respect. She was like the retired oyabun of a yakuza clan, radiating quiet strength.
Mrs. Wells, in her youth, had been a force to be reckoned with, a true badass like Revy from Black Lagoon. Now, she'd stepped back from the action, but her presence still commanded the room.
"Jack, how much have you been drinking? Go sober up!" Mrs. Wells said, her tone full of love for her son. Jack Wells was her pride and joy.
"Alright, alright, Mamá," Jack replied with a grin, his ginkgo bun hairstyle bouncing as he nodded like an obedient son. He wasn't a mama's boy, though—just a guy who loved his mom deeply, a bond straight out of a heartfelt anime episode.
"We won't bother you anymore. Enjoy your time at the Wild Wolf!" Mrs. Wells said with a warm nod to Riku before turning to leave.
"Yeah, the drinks here at Wild Wolf? They'll never let you down. They're filled with Mrs. Wells' ai—her love!" Jack added with a dramatic flourish, giving Riku a big thumbs-up. Mrs. Wells shook her head with a helpless smile, and the scene felt so wholesome it could've been a slice-of-life moment in Barakamon.
"Could you mix me a drink?" Riku asked, a smile tugging at his lips as he soaked in the warm atmosphere.
"Oh? How do you want it?" Jack's eyes lit up. As the shounen bar heir of Wild Wolf, he knew a thing or two about mixing drinks.
"One part vodka, add ice, lime juice, ginger beer. Oh, and most importantly… a dash of that ai you mentioned," Riku said with a grin, watching Jack's face light up like a character who just heard a clever quip in Gintama.
"Nice taste, bro! Your look's kinda weird, but I'm starting to like you," Jack said bluntly. He'd already poked fun at Riku's appearance at the bar's entrance, true to his straightforward shounen energy.
"But that drink? Gotta let Mrs. Wells mix it. My ai? Not sharing that with you, haha!" Jack laughed at his own joke, cracking himself up while Mrs. Wells gave an exasperated smile.
"Don't mind him, kid. He's had too much to drink," she said, shaking her head to make sure Riku didn't misunderstand her son.
"No worries. Jack seems like a good guy," Riku said with a shrug. Even without the rose-tinted glasses of anime tropes, Jack had left a solid impression. When people are drunk, their true selves come out, and Jack had stepped in to warn Riku and help smooth things over. That showed he had a good heart, like a loyal nakama in a One Piece crew.
As for the cocktail recipe? It was no surprise Jack thought it was classy—it was called the "Jack Wells," his own original creation, after all.
Mrs. Wells led the still-laughing Jack away, but soon enough, Jack came stumbling back, holding a drink and some clothes.
"Here, a special cocktail mixed by Mrs. Wells herself, and this—your ai. Try it on, see if it fits," Jack said, setting the drink on the table and handing Riku the clothes, which matched his own rugged style.
"Uh, thanks," Riku said, hesitating before taking the clothes. Honestly, he really needed a change of outfit.
"Go wash up and change in the back. I told you, you look like you crawled out of a bloodbath," Jack said, wrinkling his nose at the smell. The booze probably wasn't helping his tolerance for it.
Riku didn't argue. He'd only planned to rest here for a bit, but a chance to clean up and change into fresh clothes? That was a godsend, like stumbling into a hot spring episode in an anime. Since getting isekai'd by that truck, he hadn't had a proper bath or change of clothes—just a quick scrub with snow. He'd been grossed out by a homeless guy's clothes before, but at this rate, he'd be the one stinking like a blood-soaked youkai.
"Alright, let's do this. Lead the way. Oh, I'm Jack Wells. What's your name?" Jack asked as he started walking, gesturing for Riku to follow.
"Riku," he replied simply.
"Got it! Tencho guy, right? I should call you Ri~, yeah?" Jack said confidently.
"Uh… just call me Riku," Riku said, sweating like a nervous anime character with a yellow bead of sweat sliding down his face. Being called "Ri~" felt way too awkward, like a nickname from a rom-com anime that just doesn't stick.
"Sure thing, your call," Jack said with a shrug, respecting Riku's preference like a true bro.
read finish work inpat** : belamy20