My speciality is security technology. I'm sure that was what clinched my job at the Nostrades. My Nen isn't particularly strong or impressive and my physical stature weak but speedy. Which is probably why I ended up babysitting Neon Nostrade instead of doing actual guarding work.

Reason why I hate shopping: Neon Nostrade

"Yuri," she whines, "I wanna go shopping, come with me." Her body is draped horizontally across her bed, mentally exhausted from half an hour of studying and in desperate need of retail therapy.

"Sure thing, kid." I reply, struggling to not roll my eyes. The late morning sunlight practically sets my hair on fire as it beams into the room, contrasting sharply with the coolness of the room and my body.

I race down the stairs behind Neon as she darts to the door, her energy mysteriously restored. The area directly behind the front door is cool and calm, the tiles clear and the door handle cold. The area immediately outside the door is hot and heavy, the stone floor heating the soles of my feet. I automatically open up the frilly parasol Neon demands and walk her to the glossy limo. She cares about her complexion way too much for a fourteen year old. It's a five metre walk, always has been and probably won't change.

The creamy leather seats cool to the touch but Neon's youthful blood at a boil. She can barely remain seated and her chatter fills the car for the entire ride, Senritsu humouring her. I faced the window and let my eyes glaze over. This job was only categorised under guarding because the kid is rich. It's kind of like rent-a-buddy while the 'buddy' protects you. There's only a four year age difference but sometimes if feels like eight. Or eleven.

Inside the beautiful air-conditioning wafted over me and the scent of pretzels call out but alas, we're here for clothes, again. At least clothes shops smell nice – some kind of expensive air freshener, maybe. Technically it's supposed to make you feel at ease so there's a higher chance of you buying something, but I'm slightly broke.

"Ooh, Yuri-chan! Try this one!" Neon cries, eyes sparkling. The monstrosity she holds up is more underwear than top. I wince.

"No."

"You're boring." She says. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. What is that top meant to cover? A few minutes later, Neon had collected an armload of fine, filmy fabrics.

"Yuri-chan, you have such a nice body, why do you always wear those awful boy clothes?" Neon asks, accusingly. Well, my clothes aren't fancy but they suited the job description as a bodyguard. And they're actually quite nice, fitted and soft. Why must she insist on dressing like a hooker?

"They're practical." I shrug.

Neon lets the clothes slide off her arm to land in a heap on the floor. I feel for the clothes. She marches up to me with fierce eyes, hands outstretched. They were darting towards… oh, boy. My chest. A muscle goes off in my cheek. "Mistress, what are you doing?" I ask, as calmly as I can. In response, she squeezes them, as if checking their quality. We're in freaking public and those are mine you are holding! I cussed.

"You have these great boobs, you gotta flaunt what you got, girl!" Neon screams in my face. What's with her sudden obsession with boobs? Did she suddenly realise she didn't have any?

"Neon, get your hands off me before I bodily remove you!" I roared.

"No," she screams, "stop wearing those boring suits!"

"They . . . suit my personality!" I have this amazing talent of making awful puns, whether it is at an appropriate time or place, which is probably one of the reasons why this other guard, Kurapika, finds so infuriating about me.

"You're so lucky to have boobs!"

"You're like, twelve!" I scream. I wrench her hands off me and stalk into the heart of the store. Does she have no sense of decency? Gosh, this seriously was not what I was expecting. Not at all. Jeez. I plonk my butt down on a bench in the shoe section and cross my arms tightly over my chest, scowling. A few minutes later, Senritsu padded up to me, smiling softly.

"Hang in there, Sayuri." She says, supportively. I look up at her through a curtain of cropped bangs and sighed.

"Yep, thanks."

After a while, the crazy girl calls out to me. "Yuri, we need your bubbles now!" Neon says. With a stony face, I hold up my index finger to my lips and gently blow. A glossy, transparent bubble forms at my fingertip and expands with my breath. Once the bubble is big enough, I stop blowing and let it float. A huge transparent ball sits in the air, several inches from my hand. Neon cheers and immediately shoves her plastic shopping bags into the side of the bubble. The glossy side bends in resistance before giving way. Now I have a giant bubble hovering over my hand, filled with Neon's shopping. This isn't what my Nen is supposed to be used for at all. I let my eyes close as I trailed in her energetic wake. If only she put this much effort into studying.

Three hours, five stores and eight bubbles later, we are finally finished. At this point, we are getting quite a lot of stares as the bubbles of shopping themselves took up more room than Neon's dancing figure did. Shopping. This is a waste of my talent.

Neon Nostrade is much more subdued during the ride back, tired out from a hard day's shopping, no doubt. I let my head rest on the glass as I stare blankly the windows. The bubbles bob at the roof of the car as I have withdrawn pretty much all of my control, only using energy to maintain their shape and strength.

This isn't getting me anywhere. I chose this job because of the connections it offers but what am I connecting with if all I'm doing is babysitting and watching cameras? It's been two months already, I'm going to have to step up my game to impress Light Nostrade. There's a huge auction in one month, the hype beginning on September 1st and I intend to be there. Those I'm tracking should be there in plenty.