She thought briefly about what she knew of this world's "jobs" and how her life compared.  It took several moments before she felt she had any sense of an answer.

"Not in the way you have one, which if i understand, you can change at any time.  I am... owned? By the ruling factor on my planet and I do what they ask of me, in return they provide me with life's essentials and several types of educations."  Daeka suddenly felt the need to burn some energy.

"We should get started on your training, but first you need to eat.  Energy is important and," She looked Misaki up and down before nodding and continuing, "You'll need to change into something more flexible."

:: Sailor Orphelin :: Misaki Togawa ::

She barely heard the rest of what the white-haired young woman said, her brain locking on to and fixating on a particular phrase, freezing her responses: "I am... owned."

Owned?

Misaki's mind recalled images from history lessons of long ago, the memories of desperate strained faces staring blankly up from scenes of debasement and cruelty. Women and children bound with ropes or chains, dressed in crude clothing. Men whose backs buckled under the weight of their drudgery. People standing proudly above others, displaying violence and mistreatment of those they qualified as "less". There were many tales of this type of terrible treatment, a variety from so many countries. Thinking about it made her shudder. She felt suddenly thankless for failing to appreciate her daily life, which afforded her no such lack of agency. Was this why Daeka had come here?

She had questions but they died before they could reach her parched mouth and dry tongue.

Her attention recovered just in time to question the final comment. "More... more flexible?" she squeaked. The thought of wearing anything even slightly more revealing of her full figure filled the redhead with instant dread.

She squeezed her pale eyes shut, unwilling to give it more thought if she could help it. When she opened them, she spotted a small family restaurant across the street. Maybe she could just get a salad?

"How about that?" Misaki asked, pointing to the place. The windows showed green-upholstered booths and warm light, while servers in green aprons bustled about the tables. It wasn't terrible crowded, so they'd easily be able to be seated and then be on their way. Not that she was really looking for a way to actually start this "training" sooner...

Daeka wasn't completely unaware of Misaki's aversion and nervousness in the area of training, so luckily she made sure to find a place where they had a small private room to practice in.  All through out dinner the silver haired fighter had been looking forward to punching her feelings away. Not on Misaki, but on the punching bag she had seen as they walked through the gym.  She had left/run away for a reason and she wasn't going to waste time thinking about what was most likely happening back on her home planet.

"Alright, first we need to stretch then, we'll just work on form and slow movement today."

:: Sailor Orphelin :: Misaki Togawa ::

Death could not have come soon enough for Misaki. Her crimson face actually outshone her orange hair, the shade of her embarrassment more vivid than usual. Of course it was, because the circle of Hell she currently occupied outshone the daily awkwardness that usually caused her to blush: she was in a gym. Thank goodness they were virtually alone, or she might have actually fainted.

Being in a gym wasn't the worst of it, though. Oh no, the worst of it was her awful, terrible, how-could-she-possibly-survive-it, why-was-she-put-on-this-planet-just-to-suffer outfit. The tall, full-figured girl hadn't participated in sports-like activities since the mandatory physical education class of high school. She had learned, when attempting to find something to wear for this... training, that the mortifying high school gym uniform was even worse now, because it didn't fit her! She had been forced to resort to a pair of stretchy-fabric cropped pajama pants and a worn-out t-shirt.

The mirrors of this place made it very clear to her that she looked nothing like Daeka, lithe and muscular. There wasn't even anywhere she could look that would stop reminding her of this.

Misaki tried to focus on the white-haired young woman, who was clearly skilled at physical combat, but she couldn't drown out the internal ridiculing voices. Even for the few moves that she managed to execute with a moderate degree of success, it didn't feel worth celebrating. She could clearly tell how inept her own motions were in comparison to her teacher, who looked radiant and noble regardless of interference as she attempted to guide the clumsy redhead. It seemed like Daeka could have continued for hours more, but Misaki didn't have that kind of stamina. She was still wheezing while they changed back in the locker room, preparing to leave.

"I... I don't think I'm cut out for this," Misaki gasped.

Teaching someone else was an all new situation to the young warrior.  Back home she'd never had the opportunity to, everyone either feared her or had no respect for her to actually listen to anything she said.  After thinking back to how her own training had gone, she knew immediately that a different approach would be needed for Misaki.  Besides, she knew there was no way she could ever bring herself to actually hurt Misaki during training the way she had been.

The forms and exercises they moved through had been kept slow and simple, her guiding hand a gentle presence.  Every time Misaki completed a task successfully, Daeka felt herself cheer with pride inside her chest.  And whenever her partner's skin glowed to a bright red, she couldn't help the small smile that graced her face.

Later, while they were changing, she heard:

"I... I don't think I'm cut out for this," Misaki gasped.

For a moment, the faces of both dead soldiers and citizens passed before her eyes.  Shaking the images away, she spoke, her voice low, "I don't believe anyone is 'cut out' for fighting for their lives."  She sighed, not disappointingly but rather more like someone who was tired.  "As a senshi you'll have to fight, the universe will make sure of that.  So either you're prepared or you're not, and I for one, would like to give you every possible advantage over your opponent."

A true mischievous grin crossed her face as she turned to look at Misaki, "Besides, who else would be my, I believe the saying is, 'partner in crime'?"

:: Sailor Orphelin :: Misaki Togawa ::

Daeka's initial reply did nothing to calm Misaki's fears. The universe would make sure of it? There was a tone of ominous finality there that she did not want to be a part of. So little time had passed, but she already missed the distant-feeling life as an unimportant loser. Being a sailor soldier clearly came with responsibilities that Misaki had never sought. She appreciated what the pale-haired woman said about wanting to make sure she had advantages, but she still felt more regret and fear and negativity than anything else. This whole situation oppressed her.

But... then their eyes met. She felt her heart thud into her chest as she stared into those amethyst eyes, another blush rising to her cheeks at the trouble-causing expression on Daeka's face.

A "partner in crime"? Was that what they were?

How long had it been since she had anyone who might have said that to her? The time she had spent with this strange probably-an-alien-no-let's-be-realistic-definitely-an-alien had been some of the most enjoyable interaction she'd experienced with another person in years. In fact, this was the kind of thing she had always dreamed of as a child, having actual close friends to do fun activities with. She had been trying to tell herself she wasn't lonely for so many years that she forgot what she was missing out on. This dusty-skinned stranger seemed to have brought trouble, but there was so much more.

"More like, 'partner in crime-fighting'," she offered with a grin, a lame reply to the joke.

"I'm exhausted..." she yawned, an idea coming to mind. "Do you want to go to a spa? The bathtub at home is so cramped. Do you have that kind of thing where you're from? Like a big bathtub that people share? With water from a hot spring?"

Maybe she'd be suggesting too much. She still wasn't really sure what the culture of her new companion's world was like, although she was learning a bit more every day. Sometimes tourists appreciated the shared bathing culture, sometimes they hated it. Misaki wondered what the pale-haired woman would think.

She couldn't really help it, though it was undignified and frowned upon, she... snorted.  Misaki's play on words was just so - snort worthy.  The following question of bathing piqued Daeka's interest.  While the practice of open communal bath places was definitely a familiar part of her planet's culture, as Sailor Litae, she had not been allowed to partake in it herself.  Something about remaining separate from the population, it wouldn't have mattered though, she doubted anyone would want to share any act with her back home.  No, the fear of a death or a curse was too strong there.  Here though, no one knew her, more importantly, no one noticed her.

While she mimicked the nonchalant stance Misaki had shown, inside she was actually excited. This experience would be a first for her.  While grinning and nodding her approval, she commented, "Yes that is an accepted part of my world's culture as well. Lead the way then, I trust you have such a place in mind already?"

:: Sailor Orphelin :: Misaki Togawa ::

Have a place in mind she certainly did! Misaki practically ran from the gym—never a place she liked to stay—in her haste to do something much better: relax. Although she felt self-conscious at the bathhouse, it was far from the terror of the gym. There was a significant difference between wearing form-fitting athletic clothes among a mass of slim and toned bodies than stripping down to her birthday suit alongside children and the elderly. Everyone averted their eyes at the spa. It was a place where she didn't have to worry about taking up too much space; the small rental towels barely covered anyone, so she didn't feel ashamed when it didn't cover herself.

She led Daeka to a place she preferred—near the apartment building, reasonably priced, clean, and fairly large. It wasn't as elaborate as some of the newer "Super Bath Houses" she'd heard of, but it had retro charm and plenty of room. On a night like tonight she knew it would have a fair number of customers, but it shouldn't be too crowded. She walked into the entrance and the wizened proprietor smiled from the old woman's customary seat behind the desk.

"Good evening, Misaki dearie," she greeted. "Oh, you have a friend do you? Here for a bath?"

The redhead nodded, blushing again at the scrutiny. She doubted that the old woman running Mizu Dera could truly see her companion; the squinty-eyed look tended to betray a reliance on vision correction. At the same time, she knew that the proprietor managed to keep things running smoothly here for many years, chasing off children who thought they could steal tokens for the vending machines.

"Yes, two please. With full rentals," she clarified. She hadn't stopped at home to get her bathing supplies, so they might as well buy toiletries and rent towels and buckets. "Oh, and the sauna!" she added, even though that cost extra.

She paid the fee, collected their supplies, and led Daeka to the woman's dressing room. The old building smelled of warm water and damp forests, the cypress wood of the furnishings releasing an aroma into the air. The different shampoos and soaps used by patrons added a secondary layer of scent, but nothing overwhelming or unpleasant. Misaki stopped at an open locker and nodded to her pale-haired friend.

"So we have to shower at the stations inside, really scrub down to be completely clean, then we can head to the tubs. This one has a few different kinds of water to soak in. And there's a sauna, too." It felt like so much to explain, but she did her best. She hoped Daeka would understand enough that they could enjoy it.

A slight head tilt accompanied Misaki's conversation with the front desk woman, so it seemed this was a place she frequented, Daeka made a mental note to file away for later.  As they picked up their things and moved through the relaxing architecture, the lithe woman could actually feel herself getting excited.  

There were other people here! And none of them could care less about her!

She followed Misaki's movements and actions, copying her so as to not deviate from the unknown protocol.  At one point as they began moving to the showers, her hand moved out to brush the pale woman's shoulder before gently sliding down her arm, the hand falling to her side at the end.

"I can't get over how soft your skin is," her voice held something almost like reverance.

:: Sailor Orphelin :: Misaki Togawa ::

She jumped slightly when the other young woman touched her shoulder, the sensation almost electric. The flush immediately rose to her cheeks, and the pale blue eyes widened significantly. She felt like her brain had been completely scrambled, as though she were some kind of computer with circuits that could be rewired incorrectly, and couldn't think of a single reply for a minute or two. It wasn't that she didn't like it—on the contrary, hearing a compliment so genuinely issued and feeling the reverent contact of another human(oid?) being... it was the sort of thing she had always dreamed of, and of all the ways it could have happened and all the people who could have been the actor in this drama... she certainly wasn't upset that it was this woman.

It should have felt strange. It should have felt odd. It should have felt platonic. It should have felt like the sort of thing she could just brush off. It wasn't. It wasn't any of those things, and her thoughts whirled in circles while her heart pounded in her chest. She still tried to tell herself that this was just friendship, wasn't it? It had been so long since she had a real friend, surely it was just that she was confused and surprised by forming another attachment to someone. It wasn't that she blushed and felt her heart rate increase because the person who said these things was beautiful, with dusky skin and hair paler than blonde, with the kind of personality that Misaki only wanted to get to know more.

"I-it's not," she stuttered, embarrassed but trying to break the contact. "Or... or it if is it's just because I'm lazy."

The hand that touched her might have had callouses on the fingers, but it certainly still felt soft. She wanted to feel it again. She wanted those fingers intertwined with hers. Misaki shook her head at the silly thought.

"H-here," she continued, gesturing towards the low shower area. She thought of that comment as she prepared to enter the relaxing hot water of the aromatic cedarwood tubs. Misaki may have mistakenly shampooed her hair three times, her mind so clearly focused elsewhere.