A/N: I recently looked over this story again and decided that it needed a bit of a make-over, nothing drastic but a few details were missing and such, so I've corrected it. This is the new chapter.

Take care,

~ SugarLandBabyGirl


Chapter One

Cerulean eyes blinked lazily as the fifteen year old took in her surroundings with complete indifference, while her mother directed the movers with her infamous courtroom voice. Her words, spoken swiftly in fluent Japanese, were completely intangible to the apathetic teenager, who had yet to actually learn anything useful from her language books and CDs, other than insults, simple phrases and honorifics. The teenager didn't actually care about learning any languages other than English, the basic universal language. To her it didn't matter if she learned Japanese or not, as she probably wasn't going to stay in Namimori Japan long enough for it to do her any good. She was already counting down the days until her father would walk through the front door and announce their next move.

Her father, Broderick Dalianis was an American born full-blooded Grecian-American, who had joined the military just after he graduated high school and had stayed in the military, even after marrying her mother Annette, who was at the time an aspiring attorney and having a child two years after their marriage. Somehow, despite all the odds they had remained married for seventeen years, though the teen couldn't say for sure whether their marriage was happy or not. It was a strange marriage in the teen's eyes. Her parents hardly ever saw one another and when they were actually together they acted more like business associates than an actual couple. The girl guessed that they were good parents all-in-all. Although they treated her in a similar manner as they did one another, she always had a roof over her head, food in her stomach and clothes on her back. There wasn't any real closeness in their family, which she assumed was due to her father and mother always being away from the house busy with their demanding professions.

The bored teen sighed quietly under her breath before she stretched her arms upwards and slowly stood to her feet, before she stealthily snuck past her mother and exited the house, before her mother could assign her a piece of furniture to help move. Once outside the house, the cerulean eyed teen looked over their newest home and found nothing special about it. It was an average two-story modern day Japanese house, with a gated front, a small backyard and it was painted the same bland colors like all the others on the street. They had moved to another quiet, boring, suburban type place. She had been in a couple places like that before and even though they had been in America, a continent away, she expected nothing different.

Without so much as blinking the apathetic teen lazily stuffed her hands in her jean's pockets, turned away from the house and began walking down the street. The teen wasn't worried about getting in trouble for skipping out on moving furniture, she knew her mother would make the movers get everything situated just like she wanted and she already knew what her punishment would be, if her mother found her missing, so she didn't even think twice about leaving without informing her mother beforehand. It wasn't like she was really needed or would be of any help anyways. Her mother was a borderline obsessive—compulsive perfectionist, while the younger female just didn't care where stuff ended up. She wasn't a slob by any means, she liked order, but she didn't even come close to being as fixated with absolute perfection as her mother or even her father.

The apathetic teen idly trudged along the concrete street eying her surroundings with a bored frown. She wasn't sure how long she had been walking, but she was sure her trip was a lot shorter than it seemed. The town was pretty much every suburbanites dream: the schools and shopping areas were within a decent walking distance, the people were pleasant and polite, yet not overbearingly so and the town was peaceful, or it seemed that way at least. The lethargic teen had already somewhat assumed that a town called Namimori would be a boring place and now she was fairly confident that her first assumption was spot-on. Speaking of schools, the lazy teen wondered if she would actually be able to join the High School, even though she barely knew any Japanese. Even if they let her join, she doubted she would be able to stay for more than a few months, maybe a year, if she stretched it. She never stayed at anyplace for more than a year, couldn't because of her father's military career.

On the trip back to her new house she shadowed past a teenage boy, who looked to be only a year or so older than she. He had a piece of white tape over his nose and a strange haircut. To her it looked like someone had got a hold of him with a weed-whacker and went to town. He was jogging down the road punching the air in front of him, like a boxer in training while talking aloud to himself in Japanese. The quiet girl raised a curious eyebrow at the grinning slivery white haired boy when he suddenly shouted out something that sounded like the word 'extreme', before he continued on his way, never taking notice of the fallow haired girl who watched him until he rounded the corner.

The girl shrugged her shoulders in a forgetful manner, quickly forgetting the loud, eccentric boy as she sighted her new house. The mover's were packing up their truck getting ready to leave. She wondered if she had actually been gone that long, or if her mother had just kicked the movers out to do the furniture rearranging herself. From the grimacing looks on the mover's faces, the teen guessed that it was the latter. Her mother had probably snapped at them like she did to people in the courtroom. Her mother was quite vicious, when she wanted to be despite her slender, yet shapely physique and deceptively soft Columbia blue eyes. The fallow haired teen often compared her mother to a cat, who while usually quiet and calm could lash out unexpectedly with sharp claws and vicious fangs.

Upon entering the new house the quiet teen toed off her tennis shoes at the door, picked them up and traipsed into the living room, where her mother was staring at the couch with a thoughtful frown on her lips. When the frowning woman noticed her daughter slouching against the doorway with an apathetic frown and detached cerulean eyes her frown noticeably darkened. Her daughter was an enigma. She was so emotionless and isolated from the world around her, but she didn't voice her thoughts. "Dinner will be take-out tonight, I'll order after your father comes home. Is there anything in particular you would like, Chastain?" She asked instead, her voice direct and even, almost emotionless as she brushed her light brown bangs from her eyes.

The apathetic eyed teen was silent for a few minutes, before she spoke. "It doesn't matter, just order whatever you want. I'll be unpacking my stuff." Chastain's voice was quiet and dispassionate, as she turned away from her mother and headed up the stairs to start setting up her new empty room. There wasn't even a bed frame set up in her room yet, it was just an empty void with a lot of heavy boxes all over the place, like almost every other room in the house, except the living room. The long, fallow haired teen pushed open her bedroom door and carelessly chunked her shoes into the nearest empty corner on the pallid colored room, before she stretched her arms skyward and sighed quietly, while eyeing her full size bed frame with wary cerulean eyes. "What a pain," Chastain muttered before grabbing the small black toolbox and walking over to the bed frame. It was going to be a long night and possibly morning, for everyone in the house.