Passing White Daisies, a story by Olivine
Part I
Section XXIV
In this section, we focus on the few stubs of civilization that have impeded our society from achieving the perfection we constantly strive for. Of the five great nuisances, one group stands above the rest in hindering our flawlessness. Professor Hiroto of XXX University states, "They are nothing more than the dents in the glorious armor that coats our society." For as long as society can remember, they have been outcasts.
They are too tall, too skinny, and we presume, too ugly. They partake in the queerest, most terrible activities, screaming curses in song, relishing temptation in one another, and eagerly capturing vulgarity to the point of extreme. Layered in pathetically rebellious, ripped clothing and sickeningly hideous ink splattered-wounds on their skin, they stand out like overgrown, unwelcome weeds.
Their dangerous perception and mentally ill minds are twisted, and they have no concept of ethics or morality. In CX972, the XXX government deemed them all lunatics in the infamous trial, Civilian vs. Artist. Their desire to overthrow the balance that society has so strenuously worked to achieve was made manifest in the aftermath of the trial, gaining popularity and nearly corrupting an entire country (see section VIII).
These human subspecies were hunted during these times of conflict. However, in the modern era, society came to realize that we were not the barbarians of the Salem Witch Trials. President XXX graciously passed Order DXVII, ending the hunts and effectively leaving them alone.
Yet, their vengeance and hatred were not satisfied until they could selfishly spread their profanities, forming terrorizing strikes, giving speeches, painting, writing, and singing out. Fortunately, we have intervened all but a few times (see next section) and have secured the protection of our society from the danger of these delinquents. After the infamous, necessary massacre at Nagasaki in CXX21, they went into hiding. Today, their creations and markings are not tolerated by the majority of society and almost all of them have been wiped out, though there are still small gatherings of their supporters alive today.
Would you call them deranged, or perhaps primitive? Yes and yes, but for the sake of purity, we give them a proper name.
They are the Artists.
Ryuzaki Sakuno lifted her sagging head from her Social Studies textbook and rubbed her eyes. The section that had been assigned for homework was incredibly dull. Everyone knew the basics about the Artists; why did they need to read about them in detail?
She glanced around, momentarily distracted by the voices ricocheting off the gymnasium walls from the rather rowdy basketball game below. Everyone in the "home" sector sported gray and brown, the spirit colors of her school; two colors which did not match well, in her honest opinion. No one else had ever voiced out this dreadful color scheme however, so she kept this complaint to herself. She unwillingly blended in all too well, with her brown-tinted hair and eyes, paired with her matching gray sweater and skirt uniform.
"Sakuno!"
A pair of well-pampered hands suddenly enveloped her eyes before Sakuno shook them off and turned around. It was her friend, Tomoka, a fellow cheerleader at their school.
"The game's almost over and we need to practice our final routine afterward! What are you doing all the way up here in the bleachers?" Tomoka asked.
"I was just studying for Social Studies," Sakuno paused. "You seem happy, Tomoka," she observed.
At this, her friend's grin spread from ear to ear. "Well, of course! It's because Fuji's playing right now." She sighed and clutched at her heart, her eyes wandering to said-object-of-adoration.
"Fuji?" Sakuno followed Tomoka's line of vision to the game below them, though it was rather obvious with a single glance which player Fuji was; he was the one scoring all of the points.
His name was Fuji Syuusuke, and he was an upperclassman who had a natural talent for sports, or so Sakuno had heard. She didn't doubt it now. He had uneven, abnormally long blond hair, especially for a guy. That was what had made him stand out at first. People had warned him that his hair was borderline Artistic, but Fuji hadn't been disturbed. He had insisted that he had no time to cut it. Strangely, although people questioned it, there was something about the way his bangs fell into the electric blue eyes underneath that hushed everyone, compelling them to tolerate the style.
He was different.
Sakuno nudged Tomoka a little and grinned cheekily, "You're turning red, Tomoka."
Tomoka grinned. "Yeah, well, he's hot. Bite me." She sighed again. "I don't see why you're not turning red with me, makes me almost stand out."
She received a playful, "Oops, sorry," and a whack from a Social Studies book.
Tomoka continued, on a sudden epiphany. "Hey, why aren't you blushing? Don't tell me you don't find him good-looking!"
"I just," Sakuno lolled the words around on her tongue, trying to find the right ones. "I just want more than a pretty face. You know?"
Utterly lost, Tomoka offered, "A pretty body?"
"No... Well, yes, but," Sakuno bit her lip and smoothed over the cover of her textbook. "I wouldn't want someone who's stupid, or who doesn't laugh, or someone who's mean. Does that even make sense?"
Tomoka tilted her head, mouth agape, but seemed to give up trying to comprehend her friend and laughed it off. "Not at all! You know, you're so weird sometimes. But that's what I love about you," she said, patting Sakuno's back affectionately.
Sakuno smiled and kissed Tomoka's cheek. "And I love you too, Tomo."
Sakuno didn't know why she kissed her; it was completely unnecessary and rather odd. She could understand why Tomoka had flinched a bit and made up a hasty excuse to leave. But she had felt compassion for her friend, so her body had automatically responded. It didn't seem so wrong in theory, but she knew how dangerous self-expression was.
She looked up and suddenly, her eyes met with those of Fuji. The fluorescent blue was electric in every way, like a fire she couldn't look away from, despite the great distance between him and her. She was helpless as the crackling cerulean orbs curiously probed deep into hers, and she felt exposed, naked.
He had seen her kiss; she was sure of it, and she felt embarrassed. All of the putrid brown and gray sweaters in the room began to filter out of her vision as the brilliant blue took over as the dominant hue, brighter than anything she had ever seen. Time stopped. How was he doing this? Rationally, Sakuno knew only magicians could place spells on you, but magic didn't exist. Rationally, she knew that he couldn't stop her from looking away, and though part of her dazed mind was screaming to break eye contact, she couldn't. She was completely frozen in place.
And then he blinked and looked away, breaking the connection as if nothing earth-shattering had occurred. Everything seemed to thaw. People started moving again. Sakuno realized that her mouth had been hanging open and she quickly shut it, glancing around in embarrassment. But immediately, her eyes returned to him, watching as he packed up. The game had ended.
Fuji adjusted his sports bag on his shoulder, turned around, and walked out of the gym. He was so tall.
A/N: Thanks InnerCherry for inspiring me to continue with this story! I would have never gone back to it if it weren't for her. I appreciate of your support very much and it doesn't go unnoticed, despite the huge absence I've taken.
