Act One – Chapter One
Prologue Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Next Chapter
The kid got out of the taxi, seeing his destination off in the distance: a large building, standing atop of the tallest hill in the region, rising high above the tallest trees of the forests and situated behind many many other completely irrelevant houses and apartments that belonged to the small, rural village that was a few, but not too few, undetermined miles away from the city of Muyumeta. From what could be heard in the sharp winds of the summer, the large building had been a hotel in the old days, complete with Hot Springs, but had been renovated into a youth dormitory because of a nearby series of schools two stops away and an estimated net profit higher than what the hotel was earning beforehand.
As his body got used to not having to sit down for three hours in a taxi with broken air conditioning, the teenager took a moment to admire the view, kicking and shaking his legs to get the feeling back in them. Since he had only been in the city areas so far since entering Japan, these more traditional areas were a literal breath of fresh air, one that didnâ€™t cause him to double over and choke the smeg out of his lungs.
Instead of the car pollution and factory works that were constantly spouting Black Death into the cityâ€™s dirty water supplies, there was just a fresh breeze and healthly crops that the surrounding air was quite proud of thank you very much. Confirming his path in his head and a trail with his finger, the mysterious boy who was doubtlessly the main character stepped onto the dirt path and moved away with just under a mile to walk and three bridges to cross to get to what was waiting for him.
The whole village ahead of him was surrounded by trees, idyllic were it not for the sinister implication that when the village was created a group of people walked by, wanting to build a small rural area, with at least three bridges, a youth dormitory, a whole bunch of houses and dirt roads, and determined that the middle of the forest where they were would have to be sacrificed to achieve this. Of course they knew the trees wouldnâ€™t mind, as trees tended to like dirt roads.
The boy stretched his arms out, yawning, even though it was his legs that were aching after being in a taxi for so long with a man who was as polite as he was obnoxiously untalkative. As he walked, nothing really interesting happened, so let us this moment to take in his appearance and get that particular detail out of the way.
The young man was still enjoying the years one would enjoy as a teenager, which made sense in a chronological sort of way since he was seventeen years of age. He was as tall as a 5ft 9inch hedgehog and weighed around the same as a lion would if it weighed 175lbs, which it did. The Caucasian boy wore what looked like a green army T-shirt which stretched on him thanks to his toned chest and a right arm that was slightly bulkier than his left, so it was clear that the lad was well muscled and obviously drank a lot of milk, even though milk does not actually have muscle increasing qualities. His hair was a light brown, with enough ruffle to it to suggest that it hadnâ€™t seen a comb for the last few days, and he chin shone proudly with a layer of stubble from the past few days of journeying. The scruffy little shit also had bright, green eyes which stood out more than other eyes would, unless they happened to be on display and still covered with the blood of the previous owner, and showed themselves to be an important plot detail to take note of.
Unaware that he had just been pointlessly scrutinized, the boy continued walking, reaching the bridge with the strangest feeling that someone was examining him. He looked around half-heartedly, not realizing that it would be the first of many times, squinting as the sunshine bounced off the water and into his eyes. The bridge was empty of everything that day, with the fortunate exception of a breathable atmosphere. Being as hot as it was, there werenâ€™t even any puddles in the little bumps that covered the old tarmac, let alone any cars, humans, stray cats or plot devices. He yawned again, his head rcking lightly to the side as he began to cross it, his eyes closing of their own accord as he got halfway across.
His eyes fluttered open, their owner hearing a low rumbling. The two spheresâ€™s caught sight of a dense misty fog that was surrounding the bridge. Watching with a casual eye, the boy saw it spread over the entire bridge until only a few feet in front of him were visible. By the time the mist had covered the structure, it had caught his attention enough for him to stop moving.
There were footsteps. A lot of them, all at once and all around him. His hearing wasnâ€™t as good as his eyesight, but he sense between ten or fifteen people, all sneaking around him in various places and doing a bad job of it considering all the fog. As he heard the hiss of a small engine that couldnâ€™t have been a car, the mist began to move, a haze of distortion dancing around him, showing the beings that were trying to sneak into prearranged places a moment ago. Nine old men were standing there now, looking very dignified while wearing purple kimono with blue trim, which was very hard to look dignified in. Some were wearing straw hats and one even had a wicker basket over his head that hid his face all save for a small barred window that he could see out of. The boy noticed one of the men had been too slow to get to his spot and, realizing that he was out in the open, the old man quickly changed to a standing position and pretended like all the rest that he had just appeared out of nowhere.
The young man looked at all the old people surrounding him, trying to figure out what their intentions were. They were old, and therefore useless to society, so it probably wasnâ€™t an attack, nor an attempt to sell real estate, an event that had already happened to him two or three times already, but if that wasnâ€™t the case, what did they want? A man to his left provided the answer for him.
â€œA new warrior enters the fray,â€? he said silently, yet loud enough so people on the other side of the bridge could hear him. â€œWelcome, Sagara.â€?
â€œHi,â€? the boy began but was interrupted straight away.
â€œBoth good and bad times are heralded, and he shall stand in the middle, as his lot have always done,â€? the boy swung around again. This had been said by an old man to his right, but by the time he pinpointed which one it was, the manâ€™s mouth had already closed, making it hard to tell if he had said anything at all.
â€œExcuse me.â€? A delivery girl on a bicycle went through the group, nearly ramming into one of the old men and completely ruining the atmosphere. All the old men stared at her in anger for ruining their one main scene. Although the cyclist was unaware of it, tonight she would be eaten by termites and burned alive for her unforgivable actions, though for now she would have to settle to being pushed into the water by the last old man. One of the men regained his composure, continuing to spout once again.
â€œLosses shall be made, and experience gained,â€? he mumbled quietly, but his words still appeared to be louder than most klaxons, the youth finding it very confusing for his eardrums. The other old men had snapped back to attention, finishing the speech by speaking all at once.
â€œIt is their path, the only one they can take, and the one only they can takeâ€¦â€? The men bowed their heads and stayed there. The youth stood still for a few seconds, briefly wondering if they had all just inconsiderately died without explaining their actions to him. Watching on, waiting for anything to happen, it took him a few seconds before he realized that he had let his bag drop to the floor. He knelt down to pick it up, keeping an eye on the old men, feeling that if he was to look away they would disappear forever. eye skimming around the bridge, a small box caught his attention.
â€œWow, a smoke machine, cool,â€? the boy we shall now call Sagara stated, rushing up to the small, hissing box past the group in front of him. His outburst knocking them off guard, the old men tried to hold their heads down, still anxiously awaiting a proper greeting from the teenager. A few tried to peek their eyes open, shutting them again when they thoguht they saw the others. Only the man with the basket saw the boy giggling to himself, blocking the hole and releasing it, getting a huge puff of smoke in his face for his efforts.
â€œCoolâ€¦â€? he said, doing it three more times. â€œBut I gotta go. Well, not really. But, well, I suppose I should at least meet him away from everyone else.â€?
The old men desperately kept their heads bowed, one of the ones closest to the boy hadnâ€™t realized that his hat had fallen off and trapped a cat underneath it.
â€œSee ya.â€? The teenager walked off, leaving them standing there, the ache in their necks going unnoticed even by the ones who still had spines. It would take them a few minutes to do anything practical. The old man with a moustache was first.
â€œIs thatâ€¦really him?â€?
â€œI heard he was somewhat uniqueâ€¦â€? another one, with wrinkles where his moustache should have been, had he not betted it away the other week, began to say, stopping in mid sentence to prevent a coronary.
â€œDid the cards make a mistake?â€? the man whom he had betted it to said, trying to scratch the part of his head where he had fitted the moustache, only to realize there was a basket in the way.
â€œWe must have done. There is no way that boy can be the heir,â€? another said. â€œWhy, he did not even greet us with the traditional repsect expected for his current advisors. He just played with the smoke machine.â€?
â€œI think he broke it,â€? the tenth said, peeking out the corner of his eye, unsure if the others ad stopped bowing yet, noticing a large blast of smoke now shoting out from it.â€?
â€œBut he was suppose to be coming today.â€?
â€œWe shall have to see,â€? a forth, stated, thinking it over carefully. â€œLetâ€™s wait here, see if another teenager fitting the description comes past.â€?
They would wait the rest of the day. No other seventeen-year-old, tall as a five foot six hedgehog, heavy as a one hundred and seventy pound lion, light brown haired boy who was irrelevantly American with emerald green eyes and a scar down his back would come by that day.
They were more than a little disappointed.
Itâ€™s here! Itâ€™s here. At last the stoolie comes to visit. Far to late but just on time.
Heâ€™s different from what I imagined. American, definitely American. If the old men hadnâ€™t shown up, I would have passed him off completely. Bloodlines I guess. He must be the first White Futabatei ever.
Now I have to wait. Stick to the plan. Stick to the plan. Thatâ€™s whatâ€™s important. I made the plan and Iâ€™ll stick to it. The plan is good, Iâ€™ll stick to it the whole way. Making new plans takes too long. Bad enough I had to make a second plan. Old adies donâ€™t serve too well as corpses. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!
No, calm down. Canâ€™t strike here. Too soon. Too open. Such a shame. It would be easy, but I am weak in body at the moment. I need him alone, totally alone. With that girl following him, and this village defending him. No no, canâ€™t attack now. Will wait. It may take months, but I only have weeks.
No. Still I wait. There will be a moment, I know that much. The puppets are already dancing to my tune.
Meanwhile, completely separate from the current storyline, yet less than a kilometer away, a sub plot was developing.Pulling himself out of a river, a young man was counting himself lucky that he had survived being punched off the bridge. Luck wasnâ€™t really a part of it in this case, as this was the forth time he had been punched into this same lake, and it was more the same experience a baby got being thrown into a swimming pool than random chance this time. It still took a certain amount of tenacity not to fall unconscious from the various concussions he had just received. Taking his thin, stylish spectacles off to clean the water on them, the student shook himself off like a small furry animal with four legs and a taste for bones. Insticnt was driving him away from the pond lest it entice him back in with more punches from the opposite direction, but as he did he found that the plants that resided in the bottom of the lake had latched themselves around his ankle. Yanking his leg unproductively forwards, he looked up to see a bus slow up in front of the lake, the driver looking in his direction with a large smile beneath his moustache.
Sighing to himself, the youth started dragging himself in the driverâ€™s direction when he realized something else had attached itself to his leg. It looked to be some old, frayed rope, quite thick in size, reminding him of something used on old large boats that he couldnâ€™t remember the name of. Unhooking his right foot carefully, he pulled on it, curious as to what it was and not even considering explosives. He failed after the first yank, and realized that something was on the other end. Unhooking it from his other leg, he began to pull it out of the water with his arms. From a distance, the bus driver watched with an amused expression on his face, snorting with mirth as the boy continuously slipped and fell all over the place trying to haul whatever it was out of the murky blue liquid below him.
Finally, after four minutes and yet only two meters of rope, an object became discernible from the end of the old rope. Upon seeing it the young boy laughed with excitement, jumping and skipping up to the sunken treasure chest that was sure to be full of riches and rubies that he had imagined pulling out of the pirate ship at the bottom of the lake. Although he had no proof that this was the case, and in fact a lot of evidence against it, since the hole full of water that he was standing in was not connected to the ocean in any way and pirate ships were merely a rumour maintained by ninja, his excitement still burst into bloom when he finally got a good look at the object to see what looked like a simple brown chest with a latch on it, but no lock.
Figuring he must have broken it off when he was lifting the chest out, since the latch looked very loose and would have probably opened a long time ago without a lock, he almost drooled in ecstasy at the hundreds of pieces of gold and jewelry that had to be inside the box, regardless of the size and the fact that it weighed next to nothing after the weight of wood. He rushed to open it. On the bottom of the box he saw a sign written in what looked to be Russian, (in his eyes anyway). It said:
â€œJfubcbuvg Onbe. Ujofqp obd Jfubcbuvg b upo tj pix Jfubcbuvg b zmop uvc, Jfubcbuvg zc efmbft, Jfubcbuvg zc efqqbsu.â€?
Or something similar anyway. Not understanding a word of it, but not caring either, the young man went to undo the latch and the box immediately swung open before his fingers had even scratched it. It was at this point he got the strangest feeling: that all of the gods, regardless of religion, were laughing at him. Shrugging it off, he nervously went to open the box, hands trembling as he did so, even the bus driver was on the edge of his seat as he peered from the window, his eyes fixed, his ears ignoring all his other passengers that were screaming for him to get a move on. Finally, the box was opened and as it did so a vast amount of dust came from the chest and engulfed his face before rising off into the air. As the boy coughed out what had entered his lungs, he quickly removed his glasses to clean them again, doing his best to see inside.
As was no doubt expected, the box was empty, all save for a trail of water at the bottom that was very confused as to how it got there. He sighed, knowing his time had been wasted and left the box on the waterside, the tide slowly taking it back to whence it came. He could see the driver looking back at him with a smirk of bemused disappointment, whilst most of the passengers got off the bus, upset and shouting complaints at both the driver and himself as they did so. He sighed loudly. Most of them disliked him anyway after he took over the dormitory, and it didnâ€™t really matter much anymore if he continued to attract their dislike. Pulling himself onto the metal construct, he looked at the smiling driver.
â€œWell, hello young Futabatei,â€? the driver said with a tip of his imaginary hat that he liked to believe he wore. â€œHeavenly Springs Hotel? Thatâ€™ll be 150 yen.â€? Futabatei smiled to himself. The village was fairly large, yet in the short space of time he had been here people had already started to remember his face. Most of the community knew him because of his grandmother from when she ran the dormitory, whilst the rest knew him because he had become the one to stare and tut at whenever they walked past him on the street. He reached into his pocket to only find 100 yen, strangely dry. Handing it to the driver, he tried to cast his eyes down sheepishly.
â€œPut the rest on my tab please,â€? he sighed exhaustingly, feeling water drip off his chin as the driver took the money and placed it into the magical hole where money disappears.
â€œVery well sir,â€? the driver said happily. â€œBut Iâ€™m going to have to ask you to stand. You appear to be soaking wet for some reason.â€? The driver laughed at his own joke, which Futabatei found completely unfunny and stood as far back as possible to prevent further conversation as a result. Grabbing onto the handrail for balance, he looked round annoyed at the empty bus which displayed no emotion sheepishly. Gad it was empty of the townsfolk, he let a small, unwelcome joy appear on his face.
â€œSo, may I ask, what happened with the young lady this time?â€? the man at the wheel asked quizzically. Gen looked up toward the driver immediately drooping his head back down to answer.
â€œI have no idea,â€? he said.
5 Minutes agoâ€œYou know, you really shouldnâ€™t be pushing your luck. A lot of the girls let you off because of your grandmother, but you have to realize itâ€™s not normal to have you in charge like this.â€?
â€œUh huh,â€? Gen replied, looking down in her direction. In their hands were a few vegetables and fruit, as well as a kilo of beef stored in a plastic bag. It had been a peaceful walk by that point, more so the fact that he hadnâ€™t said anything yet to ruin the delicate balance. Unfortunately, as he was young, male and getting hot and dazed walking with heavy bags in the hot sun, his mind had started wandering again, and this time it was currently focused on the girlâ€™s chest.
â€œI mean, half of them left instantly. That should give you some clue, and your behavior the other night would have been completely unforgivable had Fujiko actually remembered anything from that night. You need to be more responsible and grow up a little.â€?
â€œAt the very least, you should take my offer into consideration. As the manager, you have toâ€¦â€? She stopped talking, catching his glance and trying to ask what the hell it thought it was doing.
â€œUh huh,â€? he said, not realizing she had stopped.
â€œYouâ€™reâ€¦ Youâ€™re doing it again, as Iâ€™m warning you? I canâ€™t believe it!â€?
â€œYou moron!â€? She slammed her free hand, already folded into a fist, and placed it at a very fast speed into his face, taking him completely by surprise and knocking him off the small, wooden bridge.
He didnâ€™t see what happened next, he was trying to swim like a baby put in water for the forth time.
She wanted him to sell. He couldnâ€™t blame her really. The village had reacted a bit too violently to his presence – mob lynchingly violent. A male manager at what wasnâ€™t strictly a girls dormtory, but was more or less implied by the distinct lack of men, wasnâ€™t exactly the most popular thing to boast about in a village of conservative elderly people. But this was the only real job he had at the moment, and he was good at itâ€¦somehow. He had fallen into the role perfectly, almost like it was his destiny, as small and pathetic a destiny it may be.
The girls hated him as well, he knew that. It was beyond obvious, mainly because he couldnâ€™t help but stareâ€¦That was where the second problem was coming from, and it only made the first problem grow bigger. Everyone considered him too young. Even the younger girls there considered him too young; his situation more and more resembling a disturbing love simulation game than an actual job. His very presence sparked rumours, stories of men coming to the place late at night being one of the stranger and yet most famous among them, intolerant old people listening to the tales their wives would tell them. None of it was true of course (as far as he knew at least)
He could see their problem with him, and more than understand, why everyone wanted him to leave.
But he wanted to stay. More than anything, he just wanted to stay.
The boy – the previous boy, not the one that just fell in the water, the one who ignored the old men and the one who weâ€™re assuming is called Sagara until we can get a real name, finally reached the top of the steps that led to his destination, exhaling as hard as he could when he did so, the carbon dioxide being evicted from his body by the nasty landlord of his lungs.
The dormitory that was to be his new home looked nice close up, almost looked like an old castle. It might have even been considered one a few centuries back, except a lot of the outside was made of wood and would have probably been easy to burn, loot and pillage on a weekly basis. Casually striding towards what appeared to be the main entrance, still panting from the stair climb, his lungs now throwing out the other tenants that were constantly appearing within its investment, he looked to the wooden doors, which were large and overbearing, making it look even more like an easily invadable castle. Reaching the wooden door, he pushed them open and peered through, ignoring the basic concepts of how not to trespass.
â€œAh, empty,â€? he said in the entrance, taking off his shoes to deaden the sound and seeing the other pile of shoes by the door. Since it was more a very large house than an actual dorm, the had kept the genkan in place. â€œAm I supposed to have indoor shoes?â€? He had forgotten them. â€œIâ€™ve forgotten them.â€? It would appear that he would have to go barefoot. â€œIâ€™ll have to go barefoot, lucky my socks are clean.â€? The wooden floor was heavily polished as he stepped onto it, but the boy was able enough not to slip. He pondered his first course of action, deciding in a millisecond to ruin everyoneâ€™s day with attention seeking.
â€œIs anyone here?â€? he shouted into the air of the hotel. He waited as a small period of uneventful time passed â€œHello?â€? Another small period of time passed and he found himself looking hard at the surrounding furniture, to see if he had somehow mistaken residents for pieces of upholstery, and not humans like they really werenâ€™t. A short period passed again, much longer than the previous one. He gave up waiting.
â€œAh well,â€? he said, dropping his bag in the middle of the empty floor lobby, assuring himself that it wouldnâ€™t disappear until he returned. â€œMight as well explore.â€? Picking the first opening to the left, he started to walk down it, sliding against the polished oak as he got moving. Above him, the boy was unaware he was being watched by a certain mysterious girl, of whom importance wonâ€™t be realized until around page eighty, but whom much speculation would be made about in the meantime.
His exploration continued for two minutes and, despite finding nothing, boredom was nowhere on the boyâ€™s face. With all the corridors looking the same there wasnâ€™t anything special about the place to see. There was also no sign of any of the inhabitants. He wasnâ€™t fully aware of what the situation here was, but he knew there were some people here by the bland indoor shoes that had been left by the front door, and, most of all, he knew something great was about to start, and it didnâ€™t matter for a second what it was.
As he walked, his socks swishing beneath him, his nose caught a pungent whiff of nostalgia, memories of humid rose traveled through his nostrils and told him to follow the aroma blindly, threatening to beat him with fruitcake should he refuse. Immediately growing excited, he pushed the doors aside to see a pool of water ahead of him, steam rising from it like anxiety from a poorly written metaphor. Eyes beaming with energy, he rushed out to the Hot Springs, his clothing magically discarded in multiple directions across the rocky floor as he rushed for the nearest pool of water. Slowly, with great anticipation, he placed his toes slowly into the pool below him, the lukewarm feeling accompanying it confirming his wishes.
Sighing with glee at the mere touch of the water soothed his big toe, his body melted further into the pool. Without a towel or any clothing left on, he had no reason to be slow and was soon in the middle, dropping to his knees to enjoy the experience as much as possible. Pretty soon the warm water had covered his body, bubbles emerging from under the blue waters. When he would next come up, it would be by a rock on the far side, where he would lean against before quickly falling asleep.
Tsunade Otsune. A beautiful young girl (by her own opinions of course) at the age of nineteen walked through the same corridor the boy was in a few moments ago, completely unaware of the situation that had previously happened and more importantly, unaware of the situation that was about to happen. Opening the door to the hot springs, she slowly began to remove her clothes from her stunning young body and place them in a small basket. None of the other baskets were full, so it looked like she would have some time to herself. She smiled to herself, grateful for any peace she could get in this place. Ever since the new manager had shown up a few months back, and had shown himself to be a lot more masculine and a lot less mature than the last owner had been, things had been hectic. The number of occupants was small anyway after the guyâ€™s grandmother had died and, unfortunately, getting smaller directly because of him. He wasnâ€™t that bad of a guy or anything. He was just at the age where he spoke to a girlâ€™s chest instead of her face.
â€œStop it. Just enjoy yourself for a bit,â€? she thought aloud to herself, taking off her glasses and placing them on top of her clothes, not wanting them to break whilst in the springs. Her vision switched to blurred as she stepped out into the springs, but she was more than used to it by now. They had gotten significantly worse over the last six years, but it was bearable. â€œAt least they werenâ€™t as bad as her knuckles felt at the moment,â€? she thought, still holding the little bruises she had made in her outburst earlier.
It was a beautiful day, just the perfect time to be in the soothing waters, the sun reflecting directly into the waters, bringing them to a high temperature. As long as no one interfered her for at least half an hour, sheâ€™d be content. Going to step in, she caught a glance of something that threatened this sanctity, and, through blurred eyes, peered to make out what it was.
â€œThatâ€™s weird,â€? she muttered to herself, remembering there were no other clothes in the changing room. A brief flicker of anger passed over her face, as the idea of Gen sneaking in to cop a look. What was he trying to prove? She stopped, it was unlikely he got home before her.
â€œOi, Futabatei. That better not be you down there,â€? she shouted, waiting for the figure to move. It did not. She considered going back for her glasses, to see who it was. Seconds before she did so, the answer was given.
â€œUhâ€¦â€? a rather embarrassing, grunting noise came from the unconscious body in the pool. The noise itself told her nothing, but it caused her to spin back round to look as she saw the unidentified human readjust its sleeping position. Not allowing her eyes the chance to properly register the clothes strewn all over the outside of the building, the girl calmed down, realizing that only one person would be lazy enough to fall asleep in the hot springs.
â€œOh, itâ€™s you, Fujiko,â€? she said walking over, not really expecting an answer from her sleeping friend. With towel in hand she sat down next to her friend, placing the cloth over the rock to keep her back from being scratched. Looking towards her friend, the girlâ€™s face was still blurred and, to be honest, it was hard to tell if she was awake or not. Fujikoâ€™s eyes were heavily squinted and always seemed closed, but from her light breathing it seemed the girl had been out for some time.
As much as she hated to admit it, Fujiko was Otsuneâ€™s best friend. The two had known each other since the Doll festival five years ago, and though it was by extreme luck the two found themselves at the same dormitory at the start of senior high, it had been Fujikoâ€™s extreme persistence at being annoying and constantly drunk that caused the two to stay together.
The sun reminded her of its presence, taking her mind off everything save protecting herself from it. She had enough sunblock, just the right amount of tanning oil. She’d be fine for half an hour. It would be autumn soon and, although they would still use the springs, it wouldnâ€™t be this peacefully mellow. It was definitely a time to appreciate things. Especially after all that had gone on, a little rest would be sought out by anyone in her position. The trip to Germany had been nice, but she had made the dumb mistake of making friends, falling in love with someone who was dumb enough not to view her as a real person, and not working enough. Before she knew it, her placement had gone, and her visa terminated.
Getting back only added to the problems. Grandma Futabatei had died, leaving the entire building to some offshoot grandnephew. At only sixteen years old, the boyâ€™s hormones seemed to be excreting from his every pore any time a girl was in the room, resulting in the hotelâ€™s alienation of everyone in the village after he made a scene in the town center. He had been such a jerk, catching a glance whenever he could and it only took a few of the old gossip ladies to turn the whole situation around into some apparent whore den. Bad enough they said it. What was worse was that everyone had believed it, and no matter how much she went over it in her head, Otsune just couldnâ€™t understand how it had been accepted so fast. She had actually punched him the first time he did it in public, and everyone caught that too. It wasnâ€™t until Tina got attacked that she even realized that people were thinking such things, and it was all that guys fault.
â€œItâ€™s bad enough he always has to stare at me, at us,â€? she muttered to her unconscious friend, looking over herself at her smooth skin, her trim stomach, shiny hair and the strange puss ridden substance emanating for her left elbow. â€œHe could at least try to be, I donâ€™t know, nice about it. Not trying to hide it like a guilty little pervert. You can always tell. His eyesbrows rise a little. Heâ€™s staring directly. Part of his brain wants a response, as if weâ€™d give some kind of acceptance towards leading kids oggling.â€? Fujiko replied by tossing and turning a little, showing her bare, if not still highly blurry, chest to her friend. â€œThough I suppose it is what they do at that age, and they are rather niceâ€? She looked at the blur sleeping to her left. â€œStill not as big as yours, ey?â€?
â€œI would say mine are a bit smaller,â€? claimed the voice next to her, one deeper than what she would expect from her squeaky female friend. Otsune squealed in horror. Her â€˜friendâ€™, who was clearly no longer asleep, was looking at her with half drowsey eyes. All of a sudden feeling very exposed, she watched as the person in front of her sat up, moving to stand over her, the personâ€™s chest looking very flat and muscular than previously as her vision came back to her in clear, agonizingly painful, focus. â€œCould you save my place? Iâ€™m going to get some juice.â€?
Otsuneâ€™s felt every soaking wet hair on her body stand on end. This was not Fujiko.
â€œActually, I think Iâ€™ll just fall back asleep.â€? He did so, collapsing into the rock beneath him almost immediately and hitting water and rock hard.
This was a man
Prologue Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Next Chapter