“Wood . . . grass . . . bird . . .” He repeated these things to himself as he sat under the shade of a tree in a rather domesticated and balding “forest” – what normal cats would call a “park”, though this concept was hard to grasp in his head. Why tear away the trees? Grass was good, yes, but it looked so naked No-Name was very afraid to touch it even with his bare feet, let alone be doing what he saw others were: pulling up weeds, tossing discs at one another, couples strolling and talking about subjects he couldn’t fathom half of (though he was not oblivious to seeing the affection each held), and other strange things. Who ate in the middle of these strange plains? What was its geological purpose? He pondered these and more as he laid against the tree, lids closed as he meditated.

Anansi bounced from one foot to another, her fluffy tail flicking behind her as she pranced through the park. The park, the park! Oh what fun! She giggled and picked a dandelion, sniffing it deeply before tucking it behind her ear. The gold might look good against her blond hair and blue eyes, she decided with a nod. A butterfly fluttered by and Anansi grinned. Oh, how spring was wonderful! Sure, she -liked- winter, but it got cold and boring and sometimes...sometimes you just needed the warmth and the sun. A few paces away she saw a brown-coated cat with no tail and she quickly pranced over to him. He looked...lost. "Hiya, pal!"

He heard footsteps and pried open one eye to spy a rather bouncy-looking girl bothering him, a dainty flower behind her ear. No-Name was quickly learning that cats here were rather friendly, which was unexpected when he had been brought up with the notion that outside of his tribe were vast wastelands and scavengers out to pick off weaklings and strays. Mind you, Ikebokuro was still an enigma to him, no matter how much he explored. “Yes . . .?” he asked, not having processed her words yet and instead jumping to the usual greeting besides “Hello” he had learned recently. Apparently the more questions he asked, the more understanding others became.

Anansi looked down at him -- he was a little younger than her, it looked like. To be honest, they were just kids, but it didn't seem to matter to Anansi much. She bent down, crouching next to him. He had...an accent of a sort. She raised an eyebrow and blew stray bangs from her face. "Huh. You gotta wierd voice, pal. Ahwell. I'm Anansi." She offered a hand, palm out, to him.

“Ahnanseye,” he parroted back with a nod, taking the hand and giving one firm shake. Sometimes cats did it, sometimes they didn’t, but it was always with hands that this shaking thing took place. A sign of greeting, he supposed, far less formal than the sign upon the breast his tribe did as they offered their bare necks as a sign of submission. Indeed, cats here tended to be more . . . domesticated. He eyed Anansi curiously with bi-hued eyes, still sitting in a meditative position as he pointed to his chest. “Mihstur Bobtail,” No-Name introduced, having been stuck with the name Demi had given him before. “Was . . . was med-ih-tate. Land is naykehd. Cohn-fuses me.”

Her ears flicked back at his tone, uncertain of the words he was using. Was he like, a foreigner? Did Ikebokuro even -have- foreigners? It blew her mind, though she plopped down next to him crosslegged anyways, picking at her sneakers- Hm. Mister Bobtail? So...he didn't have a name? "That's your name, pal? Kinda wierd, if you ask me! How about I call youuuuuuuuuuu...." She paused, looking him up and down. "Chocolate! Cuz your coat looks like a candy bar!" She clapped her hands together. "Naked?"

Wait, wait, wait. So he was both “Mihstur Bobtail” and this . . . this “Chawkolut”? So how was he supposed to introduce himself now, as “Mihstur Bobtail Chawkolut”? “Chawkolut Mihstur Bobtail”? “Mihstur Chawkolut Bobtail”? It sounded the least odd of the three. No-Name cocked his head at her as he appraised her apparel, marveling most upon what was on her feet. Another trend he saw was that these cats liked to walk around with things on their feet instead of going barefoot, and he longed to prod and examine the thing; in fact, he didn’t seem to hear Anansi’s question, motioning instead to her sneakers. “What? Hard fish eats . . . foot?”

Anansi nodded. "That works. Mister Chocolate Bobtail! It fits!" She grinned at him and then looked down. What? Why was he looking at her shoes? "Fish? Nooo... Not fish." She was a little confused, but giggled anyways, taking off a sneaker and handing it to him. Seemed he wasn't skilled in their language. "Shoe. Shooooooe. Fits on your feet, so your feet don't hurt on rocks or sand!"

“Shoe.” What a funny word! He said it again. “Shooooooooe.” Good thing it wasn’t a fish, or else he would have been too incredulous to listen to what she said afterwards. The marvels of their technology! He saw weapons made of pure metal instead of wood and stone for instance! And bright, colorful lights that hurt his eyes, and so many scents of food it made his mouth water around lunch hour, and blasting sounds of what he supposed was their type of “music” – what a fast-acting world it was here! And he felt like a turtle in the mud. But she handed him this shoe, and No-Name began immediately sniffing it, making a face at its smell but otherwise pleased that he could examine it thoroughly. “Bad smell . . . empty . . . light rock,” he concluded with a nod, handing it back. Rocks on their feet! What next? “Your . . . Your culture is new to me.”

In case she didn’t get that. But he said a complete sentence! “I . . . from trees,” he continued, pointing backwards towards the forest away from the city.

Anansi giggled at his voice, his words, his repeating of the word 'shoe'. "Not a fish at all." She grinned and sprawled out on her side, head resting on an arm, hair in her face as the breeze blew, warm and definitely springy. She was happy, even if she was entertaining someone else. "Glad you like it." She gave a giggle as he smelled it. "You don't smell shoes, silly! You wear them!" Taking it back, she quickly stuffed his bare feet into their warm confines and tied them, fingers quick. Then she pulled him to his feet. "Trees? Like...are you an alien?" She tipped her head to the side, ponytail bobbing.

No-Name started slightly at her quick motions, himself a rather slow-acting cat unless hunting or on the defensive. How easily his feet were entrapped by her deft fingers! He whined slightly in his surprise, wriggling his toes against the warm confines and not at all enjoying the thought of the sweat that it had no doubt accumulated with her own feet inside. Where in his words had he said he wanted them? Anansi looked to be impulsive, and he gave her a “please take them off” look. “Not ayleen. I Seihuwo from trees,” he repeated, giving the girl an imploring look to remove the strange hollow rocks from his feet; it was just too odd for him to enjoy wearing them when since he was born he had been barefoot.

Anansi just laughed and plopped down again at the look he gave her -- oh what a baby! afraid of shoes! Either way, she untied them, pulled them off his bare feet, and stuffed her stockinged feet back in with a wiggle of her toes, all in one swift movement. Then she looked at him, in his eyes. "Seihuwo...." It was her turn to be a parrot, ears flicking back. "Never heard of that... But if you live in trees, maybe you're part squirrel! Or coon! You kinda look coon-y." She touched his bob of a tail and smiled. "Nah. No tail. Neither squirrel nor coon." She tried her hardest to think of an animal without a tail, but she failed, returning to the present as her stomach rumbled. "Ever been dumpster divin'?"

Aaaagh, no no no no no! He flattened his ears when she tried to touch his tail and scooted away, eyeing her darkly. “Do not touch,” he growled almost. It was enough that she had stuffed his feet without his permission, but the tail? The shortest sort? Which meant touching his butt? Unthinkable! Unheard of! What was wrong with this child who though that she could touch him anywhere she so pleased? No-Name stiffened for a moment, fur bristling, though he spoke as calm as ever. “Do not touch,” he repeated softly. “Seihuwo. Not ‘coon’, not ‘skirl’. Seihuwo.” Once this point had been made clear, he relaxed a little more. “Dump . . . dive?”

Anansi pulled back as if stung by his growl, her blue eyes widening with surprise. She didn't know such a strange creature could make her feel so...off. Ears flat against her head, she rocked back on her rump, her own fluffy tail falling still at her feet as she looked at him -- peered at him -- suddenly nervous as he told her what for. Geez. "Touchy, touchy," she murmured, a nervous giggle escaping her lips as she tugged her knees to her chest. "Seihuwo." She nodded, then smiled as he relaxed, relaxing too. Odd boy, he was. "Yes! It's like...you look through the Two-Legs' trash and find tasty, yummy food!"

No-Name didn’t have a name for the creatures far taller than they were yet, nor for what they threw away and the canisters containing them, nor for that matter did he understand how they could waste it so. He did, however, understand one word: food. And food was always good – maybe not in taste, but it was a commodity he did not always have access to, being so young and with little connections. “Food,” the bobtail repeated with understanding, eyes displaying an eager light. “Fish? Like fish. Sushi.” Like the time he went to that organized cavern with several others, and he spoke to someone who gave them all very raw and yet somehow also prepared fish. Oh, what a joyous day when he learned of “sushi”!

Anansi watched his expression turn happy and knew she'd struck gold. She pranced to her feet, suddenly full of energy, and paraded around him in a circle. "Yes, food! I suppose we could find some fish, but it's not the kinda fish you're thinking of, I'm sure. Fried fish! MMM!" She grinned and bounced some more, lilac-point tail wagging back and forth. "No sushi, though. I don't think people throw sushi away. But a feast, a feast!" She held out her hand to him. "C'mon. I know the best place!" Behind an old restaurant was a nice, big, green dumpster that she often waded through. It was where she'd found alot of her meals. People never chased them off, either...but then again, she'd never been caught. "Cmon!"

Gold indeed! Why, he even cracked a smile as she danced about him, though cultural differences accounted for his accidental ignorance of her hand, and he pushed himself to his own feet – not a very tall boy at that, eight-ish in age and thin from his scavenging habits, white hair flecked with dirt, his lack of clothing beyond a loincloth, a wooden heart necklace, and feathers tied to his ankles an eye-catcher in this realm apparently; No-Name was not unaware of the stares he received. But he could certainly endure more if it meant getting food! “C’mon!” he repeated eagerly again. “C’mon, c’mon!” He’d follow right at Anansi’s heels in fact with careful trodding feet.

Anansi grinned and lead the loyal little puppydog down the steet, parading with her head held high, the red ribbon that had once been around her neck now secured firmly in her hair, holding it into a short, bobbed ponytail. Her sneakers scuffed the ground as she spotted the neon sign above the door of the restaurant and then shuffled past, to the back. There, sitting open and smelling quite heavenly, was the big, green dumpster.
"See that? Now we climb in. C'mon!" She leapt up, catching the rim in her hands and climbing up and over the lip, falling into the trash with a crash of trashbags. "Mmm!" Finding a leftover box of french fries, she waited for Chocolate to find his way in, and then she would share. "The water's fine!" she giggled, not aware that this would make him probably confused.

No-Name’s nose wrinkled as they walked along, both pleasant and bothersome scents hitting him. Metal, he’d never get used to, not even with the copious amounts of it lingering in the air . . . How could the cats here stand the smoke and constant food aromas and whatnot? He liked his clean air. Though . . . these were also the creatures that made “sushi”, he had to keep in mind. Eventually Anansi led him to a large metal container, wincing slightly at the loud crash it elicited once tumbled over, ears tilted back. “Je ceit . . .” he mumbled, stepping carefully over into the mess – again, not a clearly enjoyable scent. “Mojjy,” he added, making a face as he plucked fruit peels away, then turned to Anansi, eyeing the box of strange yellow slivers in her hand. “Fish?”

Anansi giggled at him and held out the box. "Nope, not fish. Fish's cousin! French fryyyyyy!" She put a handful in her mouth and grinned through the mushy mess, obviously not one for manners. Her tail lashed back and forth, scattering plates and napkins. She dug back into the trash and found a few pieces of chicken, holding one out to him. "Chiiiiicken! Chicken! It's a biiiiird!" She nodded firmly and bit into the greasy dark meat, enjoying the flavor as she slowly went from box to box, using her fingers to eat the food.

For some reason the idea of eating became repulsive to him as soon as he saw the grimy mess Anansi had brought him to. Why, he could be eating excrement for all he knew! Or poorly made food, or something poisonous to any cat except an Ikebokuro one, or other terrible things . . . No-Name’s face crumpled at the lack of a “good meal” and dug himself back out, shuddering as his feet squelched upon unmentiomables. “Not . . . not eat more,” he told Anansi, shaking his head for emphasis. “Better is fish self. “Im . . . im . . . Thank-you?” It was posed more like a question because he still wasn’t sure about the word or words. “You eat. I fish.”

Anansi paused mid-grab, looking at him with curiousity etched on her features. "What's wrong, pal? Don't like dumpster diving?" She offered him a grin, giggled, and crouched back down to finish her -- in her opinion -- feast. "A'right. I eat. You fish! Cya around, pal!" She gave a little wave, then opened another box, blue eyes lighting up as she saw the bit of leftover roast drenched in gravy. "Yummmmmm!"