Disclaimer: Yoshihiro Togashi still owns Yu Yu Hakusho. Or since I last checked.
WARNING: This story is my first fic, so do not expect any miracles in the writing department here. You can flame me if you like, but it's kind of useless to.
Chapter 1: The News That Ruined My Life
"This is a story which comes from the bottom of a single soul. It holds the key to unlocking the tragic events of a young girl, orphaned in the many battles of feudal Japan. Once rich, then impoverished before she could take it in; before she could accept it; before she could believe it. As she struggles for survival, amidst all of the bloodshed of the cruel dark war; she learns...she believes." I finished this excerpt of my mini-novel/essay with a dramatic sigh. The class was looking at me in upmost boredom. One guy who I think was named Yimi, orYusi, is drooling slightly and flirting with a brown haired girl named Keiko next to him.That's the thing - I like my writing, but the rest of the world wants me and my gloomy books to drop dead.
"Good job, Kasumi. Class?" my teacher added rather menacingly. The class gave me an annoyed "Kukiya" or something, which I guess means good work or something, but none of them have much enthusiasm. But, it's not just me. All of the previous essays and their readers received the same bored reply.
"Okay, listen, teacher, you really don't have to make them clap!" I say, highly annoyed. I hate it when people clap only half heartedly. It makes me feel like a tub of dryer lint. That is not a good thing. Would you want to be a tub of dryer lint? If they don't like it, they don't have to pretend they do.
My teacher, Mr. Spanischeli (I call him Spinach-Jelly), glares at me. "Listen, you will not talk to me that way. I will make them clap if I want to, and you have no say in the matter."
I roll my eyes, and reeive another "harsh" scholding from the grand dictatorial vegetable preserve, consisting of "Do not sass me..." and the usual junk. In quiet retaliation, I mutter under my breath about how teachers are dictatorious aliens trying to take over the world. Unfortunately, he hears, and I get the feeling that he is none too impressed.He takes my paper from me roughly so he can grade it, and so, I am told to sit in the corner floor while wearing a fluffy orange dunce hat. Excuse me while I sob. Ugh, this place is way outdated. And it's the first day and I am already off on the wrong foot.
My Japanese teacher always makes us do these weird writing assignments in front of class. I secretly think he is psychotic, to want to listen to our little annoying monologues, each worse than the last. He is under the impression that he, asickly 26 year old, is amazingly intimidating. He is wrong, put it that way. He has no muscle! How can he be the least bit intimidating as such a limp noodle? And the especially sad part is that he thinks that he has me scared. Do I look like the type to cry if I get yelled at by a bigheaded teacher?
If anyone thinks so, I will personally destroy them.
Well, put it this way, I don't think I look weak. I have long straight black hair, green eyes (though I am told they look gold in the night), pale skin, no chest, and a body built like a string. It's not my fault I'm skinny, even though everyone comments on it, and it gets really annoying. They all think I am annorexic, despite what I say. They are disgusted by how much I can eat in one sitting, I mean that very seriously. I just have a fast metabolism. Anyone who wants to know, I have a fast metabolism.
But as nobody knows what a metabolism isanyway, I'm still doomed to look like a street light (which everyone "can't help noticing").
And yet another thingirritating me for no reasonis that my real name is not even Kasumi. It's actually Katrina, a perfectly normal American name. But these Japanese dudes can't pronounce it. One, the closest, called me Kautlena (because the l and r sounds are one and the same to these people), another swore it was Kafanina, and another said the best one of all - Konnichiwa. As in the Japanese word for hello.Oddly enough, I don't want to be called upon and greeted with the same word, so I am officially Kasumi (Kah-ZOO-mee). As in ZOOM. I'm certainly zooming, although not in the land of butterflies and prancing pink ponies.
I move the orange fringe of the cap out of my eyes, and watch a girl named Miyuko or something stand up and give her report about the Shinsengumi, an elite group of assassins skilled with the sword in batttle. Oh my god, this is gonna be a good one. This little midget can't even talk loud enough for me to hear her.
I zone out slightly. Why did I come here? What in the world could have driven me to join the Jun Ladies Boarding school on the other side of the world?
It must have been temporary insanity, I suppose.
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My mom was washing dishes that fateful day when I heard the news.
"Katrina, do you mind helping?" She says, her left eye twitching uncomfortably.
"Yes." I growl. I was in a really bad mood that day. And I had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen: nothing good. Whenever she asks me to help her with a chore, and her eye is twitching as well, it means that someting is going to happen. Something I usually will not like.
"Thank you, honey," she says sarcastically, angrily motioning for me to get my lazy butt out of the chair and put down my book.
I groan theatrically, stride over, and grab a plate and sponge roughly from her. "Fine, Mother Dearest."
"Glad you think so."
Finally, unable to sustain the silence that the splashing soap cannot fill, "Is something up?" I said, trying to mask my worry. "That is, if I even want to know."
"Yes, how'd you guess?"
I roll my eyes.
"You know how this summer, you won a writing competition on that cute little story about an elf and...?" She motions awkwardly with her hands."And all in Japanese, too?"
"How could I forget?" I muttered, just so she could hear me. I had waited forever, on hard metal seats in the hot outdoors while all the other 13 year olds got their awards, for their pointless stories about animal hierarchies, and "the great force of life." So Lion King. I hated Lion King! Then, as it was my turn, it started to drizzle. Of course, everyone had to leave or they would melt. They weren't entirely wrong. I was ready to melt the commentator who called us up in alphabetical order, who had the distinctive voice of someone who suffers under the impression that they have the ability to talk with their nose.
Anyway, I had to wait another month, first for my mom to mail the report I hadn't had the chance to read aloud, and still more time for my officialaward to come in the mail. Attached to the envelope was a note (paraphrased, since it was so long Ican't remember it word for word):
'Deepest apologies, Katrina Lillian Kon, that this has taken longer than usual to get through to you.' And it was on a plain white card with glittery rabbits. I found that a bit odd of them. Did my story mention rabbits at all?
Also, my complementary PizzaHut coupon had expired. (Well, talk about adding insult to injury! I don't even like PizzaHut)
Oh yeah. Mom has been speaking this whole time.
"---anyway, they really liked your Japanese talent and want to transfer you to Japan where you can take up writing there, and we don't even have to pay! They just think highly of your potential, and they want to be given credit if you should grow up to be a successful author.Your stories have a Japanese feel, not to mention that it was written in Japanese, so the judge wants you to develop your talent over there in the Jun Ladies Boarding School . With your consent, that is. Won't that be fun?"
No, it would not be fun. It would not be fun. How can you consider this? How would this in any way be fun? And I am not a lady.
"Honey...It is just for one school year. It would be such a great learning experience for you, and you wouldn't have to go back next year if you didn't like it..."
Right. I'll bet. Whatever. Please tell me I am adopted.
"You will deprive yourself of so much, though, if you don't."
Add some guilt to it, why don't you, damnit!
"...cultural influences...satisfying..."
I ain't even gonna pretend I'm listening, you crazy old woman I call my sensible mother!
"---please?" She had obviously finished a speech that I, as usual, had not paid much attention to. I was beginning to feel guilty, though.
"Ummm...well...I guess, I mean...maybe," I finished awkwardly. I knew I wasn't helping her, but...
"Just think on it , okay?" she said, cleverly not hiding, even pronouncing, her sadness. "Because you know, that's where your dad was born..."
I stopped. Man, she's good. How is it she always gets me to go her way, whether it's with my Japanese heritage or my dead dad or fussing over the neighbor's poodle that got an ear infection? Somehow, she always manages to make me seriously rethink my decision. She must have mind control power.
She never talked about my dad. Ever. I knew it was out of lonliness. She can't bear to think about him, just like I can't stand to see her look so sad. And she knows it. "Uh..."
"Yes?" she replied, sounding depressed.
"I'll go, I guess..." It was almost worth it to see her look so delighted. Yet, her smile was not very reassuring. I smiled genially in return, but inwardly, I groaned. One corner of my brain, the sensible, calm part, was still asking, What have you gotten yourself into?
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So that is why I am now stuck in Japanese class for 10 months. My life is ruined - and in all places, a tiny Pacific island.
A/N Please review and I will get as disgustingly happy as Katrina's mom. But just tolet you know, Katrina is not usually this unreasonable, it's just that she was in a bad mood, like I said. And don't be surprised if the other chapter is a lot worse than this one; it just means I haven't edited it yet.