So this is for LlamaTaco's contest! LLAAAAAMAAAAA! *shot* Based off the song "Lost One's Weeping" by Neru/Oshiire-P, sung by Rin. I hope this story keeps to the song, at least. *sighs worriedly*
I dunno what genre this story is, actually. Tragedy? Angst? Hurt/Comfort?
And for those who are still waiting for my updates to my other stories, I apologise, but my head's bursting with one-shot idea's and I simply have to write them down before inspiration for those stories start flowing again.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Ten-year-old Rin Kagamine stares at the blank piece of paper in front of her, filled with meaningless questions and lines and equations and words.
First day of transfer and teacher wants her to fill up this paper. She ignores the teacher in front, rambling on about stuff and stuff and stuff they'll never use in real life after they get out of this system called education.
Ah, how meaningless, she sighs. That's all people do all day. Fill up papers. Listen to adults. How stupid. Worthless. Waste of time.
Still, she picks up her pencil, and starts writing her name down in neat, cursive writing, and scribbles answers after answers after answers. She's just halfway through the stupid paper when her pencil stops its scribbling, hovering above the paper. "Your favourite subject(s)," the blonde reads it out loud.
After fifteen minutes of teeth grinding, pencil snapping and many more, Rin scrawls a hesitant Maths and Science on the lines beneath the question and declares the ordeal over and done. She skips the next question for boredom's sake and her habit, and reads the question. "Subject(s) you dislike."
What's up with people these days? Asking about likes and dislikes. She wonders, tapping her new pencil against her chin. It's a lovely pencil, plain and normal, like any other pencil one would find in a bookshop. Just like me, Rin thinks briefly. After a moment of thinking it over, the words on the lines read Japanese. Rin nods in satisfaction, and again skips the next question.
It's a strange habit she has, skipping the odd-numbered questions, then returning to fill them up after she finishes the even-numbered ones. She doesn't know why she does that. Might I be mental? That question lingers in her mind for a while as she ponders about her habit.
It's done. There were only ten questions anyway, easy enough. Rin flips to the front of the paper and starts filling in the blank ones. Again, she stops at the question — the one below the Your favourite subject(s).
Why?
Rin chews on her bottom lip, unsure of why, exactly, she favored these subjects. Deciding to go for the most straightforward and easiest answer she has in her mind, she writes down Because they're easy. She knows that she must never use because in front of a sentence — that's what her mother says — but she still does it anyway. It's not as if her mother is going to pop up in the middle of a lesson — one that she's not paying attention to. It's not as if when she gets home, her mother is there to chide her.
Her parents are never home, and she gets this sense of "freeloading" from her relatives. They practically live in her house. Even though they always, always, tell her that her parents are away for a business trip, she's not as dense and dumb and naïve as they think she is. Rin knows that one day they disappeared, and they couldn't possibly be on a business trip for five years. It's just not plausible. So that means that they're dead.
That's the answer she comes up with, anyway, so when one day she's ransacking her relatives' room while they're away, she finds their death certificate and gets this sense of joy that her guess is correct. That's all she feels, really. Rin wonders for while if she's heartless to feel nothing at the death of her parents, but she doesn't care after a while. They're dead, anyway, so she doubts that anyone would remember them.
The next odd-numbered question is the same. Why? Rin's in a dilemma. She can't possibly write that Because I don't understand Japanese for an answer. She knows that if she writes that, her teacher would sign her up for extra lessons, and she doesn't fancy them. It's not like her grades will shoot up and she'll understand Japanese all of a sudden anyway, so why bother? Besides, it's such a stupid language that only Japan uses it. It's much better to substitute Japanese for French, or something else. France is such a beautiful country, with a beautiful language and simply hilarious but again, beautiful manners, that she doesn't know why her relatives and ex-teacher thinks elsewise.
Thinking it through and weighing her options carefully, Rin settles for the eraser in her pencil box, and rubs away her answers for the previous three questions. After making sure that there's no trace of her old answers, she writes Nothing for these questions.
Much better, Rin decides, and gives the paper to her teacher when the bell rings.
Today's homework for art is to draw a portrait of you and your personality.
That's easy, Rin thinks, Blank piece of paper. That's who I am. That's my personality. The problem is that the teacher wanted them to be abstract. Then it became a problem. It's confusing. Muddling. Baffling. Puzzling. How was she to draw herself if she didn't know?
Always, she made it so that she wouldn't attract anyone, so that she could keep to the shadows. So she basically has no personality. Rin decides that handing up a blank piece of art paper is the best thing to do.
No, I'll probably get a F. Rin thinks as she slips on her shoes, and keep as close to the wall as she can, to avoid the rush of students behind her. Middle school is such a bother. School is still so annoying. Relatives who are freeloading are still so annoying. Is there anything in the world that is not annoying?
She doubts that there is. It's impossible that nothing is annoying. Everything is like a coin, a side that is annoying, and a side that is fun and not annoying, in Rin's view. So everything is annoying.
Friends are annoying. That's why she has none. Parents are annoying. They're gone already, of course, but she really doesn't care. Relatives are annoying. That's why everyday she wishes to kick them and their babbling mouths out.
Only art is really not annoying — that is, until today. Today, she has discovered that art is also annoying. Rin takes note of it, and makes a point to tell the future Rin not to pursue a career in art.
And art links to imagination. Her art teacher always say that she has plenty of imagination — that's why her work is all around the school, for all and sundry to see and admire, according to her teacher. Imagination is annoying. That's why Rin has none, too. Her work is very gore and bloody, if one was to ask her the true meaning behind the abstract works. She thinks that gore and blood might be one of the only few things that aren't annoying.
She always hears people whispering and pointing at her behind her back, asking about the things in her head, what she is thinking. That's easy, nothing. Nothing, really. Her head is always white. Like a blank sheet of paper. Rin decides that she might just draw herself with a blank piece of paper taped over her face. It would be accurate to describe her personality, except that a blank piece of paper was also annoying. So no.
Having a personality is also annoying. That's also why Rin doesn't bother to have one.
"Ehh, your boyfriend broke up with you?"
"That's sad!"
"Sniff...I'm going to be so lonely from now on..."
Rin doesn't care about that. She doesn't understand why people always grumble, why they always say that they're sad, say that they're lonely. That's why she has no personality. No personality means no being lonely, no being sad. They should do this sometime, Rin thinks briefly.
She wonders again if she's heartless. If her heart's black. If she's unusual. If she's...mental.
Rin decides that she is.
She wonders who did it. Who was the one that dyed her heart black, devoid of it's original red, the one who made her unusual, the one who made her mental? Rin doesn't know.
But she doesn't care for the truth.
She decides not to hand up the art piece at all.
One day on her way home, Rin finds someone from her school — Miku, she believes — with a noose in her hand. Rin knows what she is going to do. This part of the neighborhood is fairly quiet, with close to no one walking by the tree the girl is going to hang herself from. But Rin lives here, so she stays and observes the girl.
She watches all the while as the girl ties the noose on a tree branch and watches as the girl finds a rock to stand on and watches as the girl steps on it and watches as the girl puts the noose around her neck.
She watches as the girl hangs herself.
All of a sudden Rin feels like she's choking too. Her life, studies, art, relatives, everything. Everything is choking her.
Rin runs. She runs from the scene, runs from the girl — or corpse, runs from the choking sensation. She cuts. It provides her with a temporary relief that Rin is happy with. But it also leaves an ugly scar Rin is not happy with.
She resorts to burying her head with a pillow until she's unconscious from lack of air. It's the same joy, the same relief, and Rin does it.
Rin's also part of the crowd when the girl's brother — Mikuo, she thinks — sobs and wails and cries over his sister's dead body. She was going to buy some stuff from the convenience store nearby, and finding the crowd gossiping and screaming over the corpse, stood there out of boredom.
The brother keeps crying. Rin doesn't care. She walks away from the scene.
It reminds her of the things that choke her. Things that come to haunt her in nightmares. She doesn't like it. So she runs away from them.
Rin know it's bad — her mother always tell her to stand up to them — but she does it anyway. She doesn't care about her parents any longer. Rin honestly doesn't feel anything. Not like they'll come and see her in her sleep in the form of nightmares.
But they do. Her parents come with sharp teeth and open, grinning mouths and knives and scythes in their hands. So do the other things. Life comes in the form of a beautiful woman with blood red hair who shrieks like a banshee when Rin touches her. Studies come in the form of a man with glasses who smack her hand with a ruler when Rin holds out her hand. Art comes in the form of a fragile rose that pricks and bind her when Rin feels its petals. Relatives also come in the same form as her parents, with sharp teeth and all the other horrors Rin is familiar with.
Rin wakes up screaming. She doesn't know what to do with herself anymore. It should be fine to stay like this. She reassures herself whenever she wakes up thrashing and hyperventilating. If not, what would I do? Because it doesn't matter anymore. I'm just someone with nothing.
As always, Rin wakes up with nightmares. This time, even the girl who hung herself comes to torture her. She doesn't understand why the girl hung herself. Of course she has felt the devil in her persuading her, whispering sweet words to her, to come to Hell. But Rin doesn't know why people have that devil.
Of course, Rin ignores that devil, since she has nothing, and therefore, she has nothing that causes people suicide. She considers it a good thing she has nothing at all. Even though having this devil is a bit annoying, she simply ignores. She doesn't understand, doesn't know why people succumb.
It's annoying.
There's a surprise at school for Rin when she arrives. The new transfer student is that corpse's brother. Rin decides to call him corpse's brother, since she will never be able to remember his name anyway, and since his sister come to haunt her, it's easier to remember than his name. So she never learns his name. It's annoying, anyway.
And then one day corpse's brother asks her, "What's your dream? Mine is to grow leeks and become famous for leek growing." Rin doesn't care about his dreams. Corpse's brother's dream is stupid and annoying. But she realizes that —
— She no longer has dreams. Everyday is a repeated cycle; nightmare, wake up, school, art, go home, ignore relatives, sleep, nightmare. No dreams. No future to look forward to.
Those dreams were ignored, forgotten, scraped away, and every last scrap flushed down the toilet bowl and into the drainpipes. Rin wonders who was the one who did such cruel things to her dreams. She remembers that five-year-old Rin had wanted to become an artist. She remembers that seven-year-old Rin still held on to that dream. She remembers that ten-year-old Rin started to forget, but that dream was still in her grasp. Thirteen-year-old Rin might have been tired of it, but still persevered.
Rin doesn't remember. She thinks that it is annoying to dig through your memories for something so trivial. So she throws the question away and doesn't care.
But before she sleeps, she asks herself. "Who made my heart black? Who was the one who threw my dreams down the drain? Who made me mental?"
Rin still doesn't know, but she thinks that she's closer to the truth now.
Corpse's brother and her become good acquaintances. Not friends. But even acquaintances are annoying. But Rin thinks that this time, acquaintances are more fun than annoying.
Then one day Rin asks him. "Do you think that I'm mental?"
Then corpse's brother blushes and says no. Rin doesn't understand and pries further, "What do you think I am then?" his answer leaves no impression on her blank piece of paper, but Rin feels mildly surprised.
"I think that you're pretty and smart."
"More like smart and mental." Rin snaps back, and leaves. She doesn't care about his opinion, but he has, at least, contributed.
Rin wakes up shaking and trembling from her nightmares again. This nightmare is a little different from what she's used to. She thinks it's because of corpse's brother's contribution. She doesn't know whether to thank him, hate him, or ignore him for it. It's a frightening nightmare. Even more frightening than what chokes her.
Rin remembers now. She remembers everything.
Seven-year-old Rin happily playing with dyes and making her heart black when she found out that death certificate. Making her think that everything is meaningless.
Ten-year-old Rin stripping her of her personality. No favorites, no dislikes. Just a blank piece of paper with Nothing written on it, just like those four questions from back then.
Fourteen-year-old Rin throwing away her dreams of being an artist. Thinking that art is annoying.
Fifteen-year-old Rin going mental after seeing the suicide. Choking herself with a pillow and inviting nightmares to her sleep.
Ten years had passed from when Rin first became unusual. Seventeen-year-old and Rin thinks that she's still trapped in that seven-year-old Rin mindset. She wants to tell herself It doesn't matter, I don't care, but she can't.
Rin dives back into sleep and waits for that nightmare to come and snatch her away from reality and end everything.
She's in that nightmare again, in her elementary school classroom. Never ending supply of chairs and tables falling from the sky at slow speed. As before, there' s a table and a chair facing each other, about five yards away from each other. On the table seats the seven-year-old Rin with a blank piece of paper taped to her forehead, covering her face.
Blank piece of paper. What she is.
There's a pencil rolling on the ground. Rin recognizes it. It's the pencil she used when she was ten-year-old.
Normal pencil found in a normal bookstore. Normal and plain. Just like her.
Behind the table, there's a new addition. It's a canvas, with no paper. Rin's reminded of the art homework she never handed up.
The homework where she had to draw out her personality. Rin's reminded that she has no personality.
But despite that all, she rushes up to seven-year-old her, and screams, her hands around the girl's neck.
"WHEN WILL YOU GROW UP, HUH?!"
"WHAT THE HECK IS "GROWING UP" ANYWAY?!" Seven-year-old her screams back with the same gusto, tears streaming down her face as the paper becomes wet.
Rin finds that tears are rolling down her cheeks as well and screams even harder, breaking her voice, "HOW WOULD I KNOW?! WHO DO I ASK? WHO?"
"I don't know...I don't know..." Seven-year-old Rin sobs, covering her face — and paper — with her hands.
Her next words come as a whisper.
"It doesn't matter anymore..."
Well. It's pretty open-ended. At least, I think it is.
AND HOLY MOTHER OF CHOCOLATES 2000+ WORDS FOR AN ONE-SHOT?! o(* - *)o
Reviews, nya!