Author's Note: I've never seen the anime, but I'm just putting the info I've read and pulled tidbits from the manga. Anyhoo, I just wanted to do something on this series. So why not start with my favorite character? You tell me. Told from 'Ji's point of view. It's short, but hey...
The Mask: Kudou Yohji
Sun up.
Again I take a long drag from my cigarette. I can't stand the feel of the nicotine anymore. But it's just so easy to give in...
It seems I've been giving in to a lot of things lately. I look bitterly at the crumpled sheets on my bed. Yes, they are dirty, as I slept with a woman. What was her name? Ah, Celeste. I stray from my sheets... They would be white, and pure. But they aren't, like me. They are grungy, unacceptably so.
Another drag. The slow smoke rises above me in tendrils, as if it were trying to embrace me. This embrace I do not long for.
Many would think me unintelligent, because of the manner in which I behave. Irreponsible, you might say. If only they could see the way I feel. But someone has to be happy. I have to act happy, for our little group might fall apart without it. But I only like to think I am that important to Weiss. Yes, happy little Balinese. If only someone could hear the bitterness in these words.
I guess some would think I'm still grieving over Asuka... No, I'm not grieving. I'm fucking insane. And all the women, they look like her. Her face, her eyes. Every single one. And so I drink, and smoke, but the image doesn't blur anymore. So I do it more, and fall deeper into this hole.
I look to my watch. Time for work. I sigh, tying my wild mane of hair back, letting two long tendrils hang on either side of my face. I take one last drag, and flick the cigarette away. And, finally, I put on my mask for the day. Who knows? Maybe someday I'll show them the real Kudou Yohji. But for now, there's always happy little Balinese...
Sun up.
Again I take a long drag from my cigarette. I can't stand the feel of the nicotine anymore. But it's just so easy to give in...
It seems I've been giving in to a lot of things lately. I look bitterly at the crumpled sheets on my bed. Yes, they are dirty, as I slept with a woman. What was her name? Ah, Celeste. I stray from my sheets... They would be white, and pure. But they aren't, like me. They are grungy, unacceptably so.
Another drag. The slow smoke rises above me in tendrils, as if it were trying to embrace me. This embrace I do not long for.
Many would think me unintelligent, because of the manner in which I behave. Irreponsible, you might say. If only they could see the way I feel. But someone has to be happy. I have to act happy, for our little group might fall apart without it. But I only like to think I am that important to Weiss. Yes, happy little Balinese. If only someone could hear the bitterness in these words.
I guess some would think I'm still grieving over Asuka... No, I'm not grieving. I'm fucking insane. And all the women, they look like her. Her face, her eyes. Every single one. And so I drink, and smoke, but the image doesn't blur anymore. So I do it more, and fall deeper into this hole.
I look to my watch. Time for work. I sigh, tying my wild mane of hair back, letting two long tendrils hang on either side of my face. I take one last drag, and flick the cigarette away. And, finally, I put on my mask for the day. Who knows? Maybe someday I'll show them the real Kudou Yohji. But for now, there's always happy little Balinese...