Yup, here's another oneshot. I can see that there may be a series of these. This one is on the same idea as in Abnegated, except, if you want to see it this way, this oneshot takes place a few years before my Abnegated oneshot but I think of it as a different timeline altogether.
Think of this taking place during the very first season of Teen Wolf.
[Disclaimer: I own nada. ]
She hated this. She hated them. Why, she wondered, did they keep insisting it to be this way?
Tsubasa Hanekawa twirled the pencil around between her fingers, cheek resting on her other fist.
It is nighttime where she is—California, USA; no longer in Japan thanks to a move with her guardian. It's been almost a full year since she's left, almost a full year since she attempted to start her life over.
Secrets.
Secrets—secrets seemed to surround them all now. There felt to be no more trust between them, at least, it felt to her.
She smiled to herself.
It has been a few months since she moved to America and began enrolled at Beacon Hills High. And she has taken quite a liking to the small town—it was a good change from her own city back in Japan. The students here were quite welcoming, though there were still those who subjected to stereotypes as perceived, whether it be themselves or directing questions to her. Luckily, she didn't let it get to her.
"Hey, Chinese-girl—-oh, you're Japanese..!?" She had been mistaken.
"...you know any good sushi places since you've eaten a lot of it, right? I wanna take my girl to a good place," she was asked once, as an assumption.
"You're from Japan? You don't really have an accent...it's not that noticeable.." One boy had said to her.
Well, she did have to learn the language and she had worked especially hard so her accent wouldn't be noticed.
Unfortunately, her rootage still caused her to be asked strange questions. One in particular being by a girl who asked if she could get her contacts for exclusive designer bags and accessories overseas. Tsubasa remembers her having big eyes and wearing bright red lipstick...
...oh, Martin...Martin...
...Lydia Martin was her name.
Tsubasa frowned. She didn't quite like the American girl very well. Sure, she had a fashionable wardrobe compared to Tsubasa's simple shirt and skirt/jeans. ...She had a particular dislike to the strawberry blonde, however.
Tsubasa put down her pencil. She sighed.
She knew it was going to be a long night; she planned to use the night to study, but for the longest time she couldn't stay concentrated. She was determined to make sure she passed her upcoming exam unlike many of her other fellow students whom she knew either wouldn't be able to remember the answers or who didn't even bother—most of them were at the formal dance tonight and would most likely not remember much the next morning.
The formal...
She had watched as many students scrambled left and right to get a boyfriend or girlfriend flowers, and others to get a crush to agree to go with them. Tsubasa hadn't thought much of it though, choosing to avert her time to other things, particularly her studies. Like she's always done...
She had seen her first lacrosse game since coming to the school, and to tell the truth, it was an odd sport to grasp upon at first though she had known a girl in Japan who played it as well...
She had stood in the cold with numerous others, bundled up, yet cheering the players on. She had cheered extra loudly when Scott McCall scored the winning goal. She didn't stay afterwards, however, and not only because it was approaching winter, she had been was one of the first to begin exiting the school grounds.
She didn't find much comfort staying on school grounds after-hours.
Tsubasa met McCall a month or two into her enrollment at Beacon Hills High—it had been from the teacher calling him out during a lab assignment, ordering him and his partner to separate. His partner had been a peculiar boy—Stiles, she remembers him being called.
Stiles made her laugh a lot.
Both boys had been kind when she first spoke with them—actually, it had been Stiles doing most of the talking, Scott speaking less and Tsubasa even fewer words. It had been at lunch. The conversation had been about Whittemore—the two knew that Jackson Whittemore, the school "cool guy" apparently, had taken a particular liking to Tsubasa regardless breaking up with his longtime girlfriend not recently. Stiles had seemed particularly bothered by the girl, Jackson's ex. And Tsubasa hadn't liked that very well.
At her desk in her bedroom, Tsubasa twirled a random lock of dark hair around a finger, her eyes narrowing unconsciously.
Jackson's girlfriend, Lydia Martin, had not been someone that Tsubasa knew or even cared for. Why should she anyway?
Tsubasa and Jackson had begun chatting now and then in classes—nothing of it. He would sit with her in the hallways during classes sometimes, and they were almost always lab partners, which she was thankful for, being timid as she was. And to her, they seemed to be growing quite close. That is, until Jackson began showing a different kind of favor to Allison Argent, who happened to be Scott McCall's recent ex-girlfriend. And soon, Jackson began drifting more and more away, spending more and more time with Allison and speaking less and less to Tsubasa, seeming to almost forget about her altogether. Though this did bother her quite a bit (a lot), she tried not to let it get to her very much or get in her way. But by that time Tsubasa had already gained a good amount of acquaintances, Scott and Stiles being a few of them.
But as the formal dance grew steadily nearer, those she had come comfortable to and like suddenly began leaving her in the dark for unknown reasons. There were increased whispered conversations to one another as if she wasn't next to them, hearing; they would lie about where the scratch on her neck came from, where he would disappear to for days.
Tsubasa later found out that Jackson was to take Allison to the dance, Scott planning to crash it, and that Stiles had successfully (and surprisingly) gotten Lydia to agree to go with him. Tsubasa hadn't liked that quite a bit.
Tsubasa glanced at her clock. It was almost ten o'clock. The formal must have been going on for some time now.
She tried to focus on her work in front of her but found that she couldn't. A fist curled around a wrinkle in her pale orange, cat-face-patterned pajamas. She was becoming frustrated. She let out a heavy breath.
Scott would be at the dance with Allison.
Jackson was taking Allison to the formal.
Jackson doesn't talk to her anymore because of Allison.
Everyone thought that she had been Jackson's girlfriend.
But Tsubasa doesn't like Jackson.
Jackson's real girlfriend is Lydia.
Stiles seems to reeeally like Lydia...
...The grip on Tsubasa's pencil got just a little bit tighter. Unconsciously, her hands balled into fists. Her eyes stared, unseeing, at her opened textbook.
Stiles seemed to really like Lydia.
He has, for too-long-a-time.
Scott said so himself.
Stiles didn't judge Tsubasa like everyone else.
He was eccentric, optimistic, and a great debater.
He was nice.
Stiles makes her laugh.
Scott had been nice to her and Allison welcomed Tsubasa with open arms, despite her relationship with Martin.
Tsubasa didn't quite fond for Lydia Martin.
Stiles made her laugh.
Tsubasa's never liked Jackson in that way.
She enjoyed being around Stiles...
Tsubasa didn't like Lydia.
Stiles makes her happy...
It was always relieving to be near him.
She was smiling more now.
He made her smile.
...Tsubasa shook her head.
Lydia's at the dance with him.
Stiles likes Lydia.
Lydia's there with him.
He's always has liked Lydia even though the way she treats him, Scott had said.
She's there.
With him.
Lydia is there.
Tsubasa is not.
Why?
Why her...
...Tsubasa has never stood up, spoken up for what she really wanted, and it always came back to bite her.
This was the second time, the second she's lost someone she cared so much for to someone else.
Like now.
Lydia is there.
With.
Him.
Stiles.
And Lydia.
Stiles.
Lydia.
Stiles.
Lydia.
Lydia.
Lydia.
Lydia.
Lydia.
Lydia!
Tsubasa pushed away from her desk and stood on shaky legs. The chair wobbled and the desk shook from the abrupt force.
It was happening all over again. And she didn't like it. She couldn't stand it!
Not again.
The moon was high and bright outside her window.
Her breathing unconsciously quickened. Her eyes burned at the start of tears she didn't want.
A slight migraine was coming on and she stumbled in the direction of her bed. As she got closer, her headache escalated in shocking degree.
As she collapsed on her bed, the thoughts of two dark haired boys filled her head—one with long hair that covered one eye, the other in a buzzcut—and the denials afterward made her head spin. She pulled her knees to her chest. She swallowed and it felt like knives.
She remembers riding in his Jeep, the rocking of the dirt road that night.
The snarky comments he made in class—she had surprisingly agreed with them.
He was eccentric and very smart.
There was a certain...air about him that wasn't with Scott—or Jackson—or anyone else she'd really known.
Tsubasa Hanekawa made a promise to herself after that particular time in Japan she transformed. That, after those nine days that changed her life, she made a silent promise to herself and to an unknowing friend that she'd never grow such unreasonable emotions of want and feelings of need for another, so not another person would become of harm because of her (and her "uncontrollable" emotions).
She hasn't even cracked a smile much since moving here.
If only her new "friends" here in Beacon Hills knew her secret, how much would they think twice about being near her?
"You look a lot better when you smile," he had grinned, sheepishly. The pale boy with the buzzcut looked from the teacher, not caring if he got yelled at. "It doesn't make you seem so distant and unapproachable."
Her migraine grew unbearable.
The last thing Tsubasa remembered that night was bringing her knees to her chest and clutching her head in pain.
. . .
That night, the town became more dangerous than expected. There weren't only young teen werewolves running around the night of the school's formal.
Somewhere in Beacon Hills, a woman screamed a bloodcurdling scream. Her body jerked wildly as if by lightening as she felt her life literally being sucked from her veins. She pulled and kicked at the arms around her waist but they would budge. They only squeezed tighter around her large frame. They drained her energy in a matter of seconds. The woman's large body dropped to the cold concrete with just an ounce left of breath and life left in her.
Ears perked. The assaulter stood straight. There was a man not too far.
The last thought the woman had was the realization she had just came face to face with a demon, the devil even.
The fleeting figure of the assaulter was a blur of mostly white as it jumped to its next target. It wouldn't be an easy sight to see, seeing someone run around the rooftops so quickly. All it wore was a set of pale orange cat-face-patterned pajamas.
So, whadaya think? If you all like this, drop a review and please check out my other 2 Teen Wolf oneshots I have so far :)