Wayside - 1920s Japan Dramedy

"You what!?"

"Thirty percent!?"

When Alfred had led his family into the kitchen at the other end of their home, the civil discussion he was expecting to be greeted by was instead replaced with expletives and vitriol.

Gripping the tiled sink beside him, he shook his head in defeat as he drummed up his explanation. "Relax, he's with Mieko! Don't you guys trust her? And it's clear that he knows what he's doing, based on what he told me he was in New York doing business, for Christ's sake!"

"New York City or Sioux Falls, that man had better know what he's doing! And don't turn this on us." Lucy's voice turned from a shushed cry to a stony timbre as she motioned between her and Yuko.

"She's right Al, of course we trust Mieko, but this is–" Yuko bumped her fingertips across the wooden table settled in the center of the narrow room. "This just doesn't seem like a sound idea."

Truth be told, she also wanted nothing more than to dig her nails into her lover's neck and wring him out to dry, even more so than Lucy could ever dream of. She didn't trust Mister Kamoi; it didn't matter how skilled he was at surface-level niceties.

Yuko had seen it all before, both in Japan and the United States – wealthy men draping sickeningly sweet mannerisms and compliments over their true intentions, flashing around their accomplishments to unsuspecting fools as a means of shallow repute and comfort before turning to strike. Unfortunately for all of them, Alfred seemed to succumb to the role of the fool.

"I know we need money, Al." She shook her head as she continued, careful not to prick his pride any further than she and Lucy already had. "And I know we were all hoping for this to work out in some form or another but, I'm not sure if this is the best way for us."

Yuko pushed a strand of hair behind her ear as Lucy huffed away a piece of her own in annoyance.

"As usual, Yuko is two-hundred percent right, at least when it's compared to you." Lucy refused to waste her already-waning energy in pointing at her uncle, substituting an index finger to his shoulder for a stabbing glare all over.

"I don't like Kazuma. I’ll say it." She shrugged her shoulders, the thin fabric of her blouse rubbing against Yuko's silk sleeve. "I was more than open to meeting whoever Mieko’s 'family friend' was, but now that I know it's that-" She looked out into the hallway before continuing her rant, eyes fleeting down to the floor below. "That ass-"

"Hey-"

"No!" Muscles betraying her previous resolve, her hand flew up in front of her uncle's chest. "You couldn't have even asked us before signing our lives away? What kind of man doesn't even bother to ask his family about something like that before jumping in?"

Alfred's grip on the sink grew tighter, his tired eyes fixated on a smudge of dust clinging to the wall as Lucy and Yuko waited for his answer. He hadn't even finished breaking all of the news to them and they were already diving down his throat! "I wasn't under the impression that I required your approval, so sorry for trying to better our situation. Unlike someone."

He knew he had crossed a line, once again bringing up his niece's confrontation with Kazuma days prior. Alfred didn't need to look at his niece or his lover to feel the indignation blazing from both of them.

"What if he asked Yuko to work in some shady girls club? Huh?" Lucy bit back with a force that surprised even herself, but the rage she felt in that moment was immeasurable.

She cracked, she had had it.

Who was he to scold her for defending herself, and rightfully so, in that humiliating situation? He was her uncle, he should have taken her side as Kazuma pushed her to her limits yet again in their own home. Instead, her uncle dismissed her just as he always did.

And it hurt.

"He didn't ask Yuko, Lucy, he asked you. And you threw the chance away." Alfred hissed through gritted teeth, careful not to raise his voice lest Kazuma and Mieko hear their arguing. "I don’t want to hear any more of your whining about this. Especially when maybe our situation could have already been avoidable if you had just worked with him sooner."

Lucy wanted to scream. It was looking impossible to get through to him, but maybe one last crack would somehow break through his thick skull.

"If I had 'worked with him sooner', huh." Her voice was thick, an uncomfortable mixture of feigned joviality and mock understanding. She nodded. "Maybe you're right, Uncle. Maybe by working at a bar as some dodgy waitress, under the thumb of a man I don't even know mind you, I could have single-handedly provided for three people. Goodness!" Throwing her hands up in front of her chest as she furrowed her brows, Lucy could feel her eyes growing hot and wet.

"Maybe you do think somewhat highly of me after all."

And she was gone, out of the kitchen and eventually pattering up the stairs to the second floor.