Disclaimer: I don't own Ichijouji Ken. I made up Kobiyashi Seiko for this fic, so I suppose he's mine, huh? Cools.
AN: This is just something I thought up after watching an episode of CSI: Miami. It's kind of a letter or something like that, written after the fact. I hope you enjoy it despite its flaws.
Ore wa namae Kobiyashi Seiko. I am fifteen years old, born on the eighth of September. I live with my otousan and okaasan--Mitsuru and Tamayo--in Tokyo, in the district Tamachi. I attended Tamachi schools all my life until now, when it is ending. I have no real reason for writing this. It is not a school project, and I am not one to write something merely for the fun of it. The truth is, I feel bad about what I have done, and I hope that by telling the truth, even if only to a sheet of paper that will be locked away and buried before I die, I can gain some sort of peace. Perhaps it is a misplaced hope, but until then, the writing itself gives my relief.
To my parents and all of those affected by my actions in life: gomen nasai. There is no excuse, so I won't try to give one. Only my sincere apologies. Gomen. Gomen.
Today is the sixteenth of July. It is a day to mourn; and I am the cause. I must explain myself, or else I shall not have peace before I die. I will die today. I know it with a certainty that only one in my position can have. I know it as well as though it had already happened. But that is not why today is a day to mourn.
Yesterday. It began yesterday. Actually, it began years ago, when I first met him. Ichijouji Ken. I had just been transferred from public school to the academy. I didn't like him then already. He was always aloof, acting as though he were superior to all of us at the academy, as though we were nothing but insects to him. He thought he was some sort of god, and I hated him for it. I hated him! But I accustomed myself to him -- to his high-and-mighty ways. I think at that point, I had already known what would happen. I was only a child then, but I knew.
He continued to annoy me all through grade school. We all grow as we get older. We become smarter, stronger, better looking than we were as children. We all do, and we all did. But him. He grew more, and faster. He was a year younger than all of us, and yet, by the time we entered junior high, he was smarter than all of us. He was stronger than all of us. He was faster, more athletic. He was obviously more attractive, and he was popular. We were still adjusting to our new bodies while he was showing up on television. I couldn't help but feel jealous. I hated him with more passion than before. A child's hate dies faster when it isn't fueled. My hate was fed every day. Or, it was.
One day, he didn't show up at school. On the news that night, they said he had run away. I figured, 'good riddance,' and went on with life. I could let my hate die, so long as he was gone. Except that he was too popular. Even with him gone, they would broadcast his face on the news every day. Any innocent conversation turned to him. Nothing I did would get me away from him, and nothing he did would either. He would always be there; would always be better. I couldn't escape him, and I couldn't stop hating him. I wanted to, I swear!
And suddenly, he was back. Two months he was gone, and the reports had just started to die down, and then there he was. He seemed different, somehow. But he was still just the same as always. Smarter, faster, stronger, better looking. He was everything he had been before he left. And now he was back in my face, where I truly couldn't escape him. I couldn't stand it. I had to stop hating him. It was killing me to know that someone so perfect even existed.
But anyways. Yesterday. Yesterday is when it all truly began. My hands are beginning to shake when I just think about it. I hate him! I hate him! I hate him!
I had his phone number from… I don't remember where I got it. It wasn't important to me then, and I can hardly think straight now. All that matters is that I had his phone number, and I called him. I wanted to talk to him. Maybe, maybe, hopefully, I could figure him out. If I could find even one flaw, I would be happy. One flaw would mean he was still human. One flaw would mean there were more. I could stop hating him, if only I could find one flaw. And I wanted so badly to stop hating him. So I called him. I asked for his help, studying for our Geometry exam. I had been failing for at least a month, so I suppose he believed me. I told him I couldn't understand any of it, so it may take a long time, and the exam was today. Tomorrow. I failed it, by the way, when I took it today.
Anyways, he said that anytime I needed him, he would be able to come. He seemed really very generous. But I didn't want to find more virtues in him; I wanted a flaw. So I asked him to meet me at the school. Four thirty, I asked him. And then I waited. I tried to imagine what sort of flaws Ichijouji Ken could have, and how would I manage to figure them out. Maybe he had a phobia, or a pet peeve. Maybe he hated someone as much as I hated him. But then, he probably hated all of us, simply for being inferior. Maybe he hated me for asking him to help me at four thirty in the morning. Always maybe. I needed to know something for sure.
He was punctual, showed up around the corner at four thirty exactly. I knew he would, but I guess I had been hoping he'd be late. Unreliable. But there he was, and he didn't look the least bothered. Not even the lack of sleep had gotten to him. His uniform was pressed, his hair perfect. He even smiled at me when I met him. I just wanted something to be wrong, anything! But…nothing. He was even perfect at four thirty in the morning. He was unnatural, not human at all. And I couldn't stop hating him for it.
We were going to sit on the steps to study, since the school building was still closed, and any tables and such are in the courtyard, inside. We were walking side by side at first; he didn't even try to pass me. I figured for sure, he'd at least be enough of a snob to want to be first. He always was first, after all. But, no. Impeccable gentleman; he walked beside me. No matter what I did, even when I slowed down a bit to let him pass, he slowed down to match me. Nothing I did could make him break his perfect stupid boundaries. I hate him! I hate him I hate him I hate him!
So I just stopped trying. I just…stopped. And he was a moment too late. He was a step ahead of me. He… I can't breath right now. He stopped and turned to look at me. He wasn't even bothered, just maybe worried about me a bit. Still, he had to be perfect. He was still the best looking guy in Tokyo; still the fastest and best soccer player in the league; still the smartest of the elite students; still the strongest and most talented at judo or any martial art. He was even the perfect height. But none of that mattered anymore. I was taller. Even though it didn't seem like it when I towered over the girls in our class and over my teachers and family, or when people teased me for being a human lightning rod, I had one advantage over him.
I caught his hair and slammed his head into the wall. He was sort of in a daze for a moment, I guess. I don't remember much from that moment; I guess I really wasn't thinking clearly. But I managed to shove him to the ground. I think he hit his head again; else I'm sure he would have fought me off. But he didn't, and I ended up sitting on top of him with my hand over his mouth. It was over his nose also. No matter what, he couldn't breath.
It didn't take long. I remember him clawing at my hands and arms, trying to move them. It didn't really click that that's what he was doing him at the time. I was too focused on his eyes. I've never seen eyes like that. Huge. Sort of glassing over. Wild. He was scared, absolutely terrified actually. It was odd to see him like that. The perfect child was totally helpless, and he knew it. He was at my mercy. And I still hated him. I had no mercy to give him.
It was only the moment after his hands fell away and he just…went limp, that I realized he had a flaw. He wasn't perfect. He really wasn't. In fact, he was totally helpless, like the rest of us. He was. He isn't anymore. Now he isn't…anything. Just dead. Dead.
I killed him. I still can't believe it.
So…that's it. I hoped that letting that out would help, but it hasn't. I'm still going to finish this. Gomen na, Okaa-chan. Otou-chan. Ashiteru.
AN: Nothing much to say. Yes, I killed Ken. Get over it. ... ... ... Actually, it was really interesting to do. I'm sorry there was nothing in Ken's viewpoint and all the other flaws there were in this. Still, if you could please review. Onegai.
Oh! And if the style changed anywhere, please let me know.