Chapter 1

Makoto gazed at her grazed knuckles. There was no blood, but they were red and dry and still hurt quite a bit. Her feet padded quietly along the pavement, paying no attention to the route she was taking but instinctively knowing the way from muscle memory.

Behind her she could still hear the distant cries and jeers of her former classmates calling her names and accusing her of violence. They were not kind and did not try to be subtle – no, they wanted her to hear every word, so that she would know what a disgrace she was to the school.

Her eyes wandered between her hands and the pavement as she deliberately looked anywhere that wasn't directly ahead of her. She could feel people's stares on her – even those of complete strangers who knew nothing of the situation. They always looked up at her tall, gangly physique and wild, curly hair and were extremely quick to back off. Parents had even chivvied away their small children on occasion.

"You don't want to go near her," they would say. "She's in a gang, that one. Just look at her height and her curly hair. Probably smokes as well."

Eventually the cries died down into nothing, and there was no noise other than the breeze and the movement of traffic on the road. Makoto soon found herself standing outside Juban Park and she walked in, deciding that the peace and quiet of the park would be far preferable to the streets of Tokyo. She made her way to her favourite part, the rose garden, where the smell of the flowers overtook her and immediately relaxed her. Sitting on a bench, she gazed out at them, thinking how pretty they were – thinking how people would never look at her in the same way they would a beautiful rose.

As she sat, she mulled over the last hour. She remembered the tears which had streaked her classmate, Asari Yuuka's, face when three boys from the grade above had cornered her and started to attack her. She recalled how flashes of anger had coursed through her body and how her fist had flown through the air to one of the boy's faces before she could even think about what she was doing. Then, not even a minute later, all three boys were on the ground and Yuuka was on her knees, sobbing to the sensei about how Makoto had started a fight with the three boys.

Makoto's attempt to defend herself had been useless. She was not good with words and could not get the sensei to understand that she had been trying to defend the girl. She'd thought that Yuuka would stick up for her – but in Yuuka's fear of what the boys might do to her, she convinced the sensei that Makoto was the culprit.

And now, here she sat, ashamed of herself for losing her temper, even though she knew full well that those boys had deserved what they got.

She had never felt more alone in her life.

Mother and father would be so ashamed, she thought. She could feel a lump forming in her throat and swallowed, holding back the tears that threatened to spill. I tried to live independently but failed.

Transfer – that's what the headmistress had told her. She would not return to this school, but would start over at Juban Junior High school next week. It was the only school in Tokyo which was kind enough to take a girl who had been expelled.

There is no one left who wants me. Not since the plane crash all those years ago.

Her eyes met the sky which was a clear blue, dotted with only the odd cloud, and wondered if her parents were watching over her. She imagined that they would have stern expressions on their faces and would be chastising her for her violence.

Yeah but at least they cared.

Her – now old school – didn't give a damn. Well, not really. They pretended that helping her to redeem her behaviour was important, but they weren't truly active in understanding her. All they'd done, on telling her she was expelled, was given her one single piece of paper which stated that at her new school she would have to go to counselling to talk about why she was so violent towards people. The paper now sat crumpled at the bottom of her bag.

Violent. Once again, the label had been slapped on without any thought or consideration, and Makoto hated it. Defensive would have been a better word, but it's not like the rest of the world understood when all they saw was a raised fist and a bloody outcome.

She looked again at her grazed knuckles. It had been a while since the last time, only the last time had happened outside of school in a back alley where there was no one to notice or care. She herself had only been there because she'd fled from a group of classmates who had been taunting her about her height. Those little alleys were the most dangerous parts of the city where gangs hanged out, and Makoto had found herself fighting five to one in self-defence in order to get herself out of there.

I just wanted to help, she thought miserably as her mind went back to Yuuka and the three boys who had cornered her. Of course, they'll get off scot-free.

Her fist curled up at the injustice and she felt the desire to slam something out of frustration. A mother with a pram happened to be walking by at that moment – she quickly moved to the other side of the path and hurried off, casting a worried glance back at Makoto. Makoto uncurled her fist and sighed audibly.

That woman was terrified I would hurt her child, she thought. The worst thing is, I'm scared that I have that in me.

She stood up, suddenly wanting to get away. Back in her apartment she could get some peace and quiet and not have to worry about the people around her. The one benefit of living alone was that there was no one there to stare at her and pretend they were not whispering about her behind her back.

Before leaving, however, she plucked a single rose out of the ground and brought it to her nose, where she inhaled its sweet scent. Sticking it behind her ear, she walked away, knowing that her presence was incompatible with such a beautiful place, but taking away one tiny piece of that beauty so that she might not feel so ugly inside.