Masques
They were all pathetic.
They would move, pretending that they were the Bruce Lee of Shiro Iwa. Admittedly, there are one or two fellow 'classmates', who are worthy of declaring their proficiency with this. The rest of this feeble rank and file… no words can describe their incompetence. They are truly infantile. They are just little boys with manly yearnings that ooze from their pores.
For that reason, I prefer to stay away from them. They are truly beneath me. I make exception to Nanahara, Kawada, Sugimura and Mimura. They are the only ones worthy of a combat challenge. They are formidable opponents; each with his specialities, strengths, and no doubt, his Achilles' heel.
They each, however, like the rest of my feeble minded and soft-bodied classmates, disgust me with their unnecessary display of emotion. They are vulnerable. They may be able to handle combat, but, if a girl was to so much as bat an eyelash at them, and in her sugary sweet flirtatious tone whisper his name, their knees buckled under the weight of lust.
I know myself, and, I too know that I could be a weak little fool, if the right girl captured my fancy, and not because she can giggle vacuously, twirling a silky strand of hair around her finger, while blushing, knowing damn well, what she was doing. Any girl that will make me weak will be nothing less than a woman of grace, and elegance.
But, none of these pathetic boys know that.
In keeping one's strength, one must never reveal one's secret. They are the other weapon which my enemies have against me. Without my secrets, they are utterly powerless in the face of my wake. They can whisper and gossip all they want; they can pass on rumours through the grape vines, and still not be able to find what they are looking for.
The buzz of their voices does nothing to me as I breeze by them in the hallway.
They are nothing more than humming flies that surround me; harmlessly going about their business. They dare not come near me, for fear that if they should even so much as meet my gaze, they will be crushed in my grip as though nothing more than a paper cup.
I have my loyal faction, but, even then, I still prefer the sanctity of solitude, and the euphoric pleasure of flying solo, and not needing to rely on anything, or anyone, other than myself and my skills.
I stop as I hear a soft click. The sound of a girl taking the cap off a tube of lip stick and preparing to apply it… The sound came from my left. I averted my gazed ever slightly in that direction to catch, out of the corner of my eye, the ever-perfectly groom, composed and elegant Souma Mitsuko.
She was daintily holding her compact mirror in her right hand, applying a coat of deep scarlet rogue to her full, sullen lips. Her eyes cleverly shot up above the mirror. She pursed her soft lips, moving the stick of over them slowly, her gaze rolling over me, each twitch of her eye muscles caressing me.
Her gaze was eerie. She had a way of staring at boys and men that seemed to make them buckle at the knees, and fall to the ground, throwing themselves at her mercy, either out of fear, or because she was utterly drop-dead gorgeous.
She did have that affect on me, even if it wasn't apparent. She is the only female that I would even consider giving the first gaze too. She was known to the masses as Hardcore and with god reason to. She left many boys in her wake, lying on the floor, moaning, as they hungrily salivated for a taste of her splendour.
"What are you looking at, Kiriyama?" Mitsuko purred silkily, as she capped her lipstick, and replaced it and the compact mirror in her hand bag, which she carried along with her school bag. She casually slung it over her shoulder, falling in stride next to me.
The only muscles I moved were in my jaw, I coldly replied, "not much."
She laughed softly. She seemed amused by my derisive remark. "You may look desirable, but you're a stone cold bastard. You make me unworthy of my title of Hardcore, with that attitude of yours." She purred against my ear.
I felt her press her large well and nicely developed chest against my back. She was soft – where it mattered. I felt her place a lithe hand on my neck, her finger caressing the jugular vein in my throat with the tip of her nail.
I stood rigidly. I preferred not to give any of my motives away, or provide her with any hints as to what traversed my mind. The neutral expression, the characteristic poker face I learned to wear, was the best mask I had and my first line of defence against anyone and everyone.
A soft coy grin caressed her lips; I noticed out of the corner of my eye, as she brushed against me, moving around front, her masterful gaze transfixed on mine. She knows I'm not easily manipulated like her other toys.
The hand she was touching to my throat moves to my face, her palm flat on my left cheek. She gently licks the inside of her bottom lip, her hair tenderly rippling down, as she turned her head down before she speaks. She moves her hand down my face.
'It's a pity you were programmed at birth to show no emotion. Though, this might prove to be interesting. You're not responsive like the little boys here, or like the lecherous men. You're deliciously different in an oddly sensual way. Your silence is…" she leaned in closely, whispering, "delightfully intoxicating."
Mitsuko… The only girl; no woman that I fancy for the moment… even if I purposefully elect not to make any display of emotion, who I would like to hold in my arms. She is the only girl in school with such a strong following. Her loyal harem kisses the soil upon which she promenades; they protrude themselves at her feet for a caress and a gently yet lustful gaze.
She belongs to no one. She is a free spirit.
No one could ever make her theirs.
She prefers no strings attached.
Mitsuko smirked devilishly at me. "You never smile; you're devoid of any emotion. The only time you ever speak is when Sensei asks a question." She paused and pressed herself against me. "You never look at girls… I like a challenge."
It now appears that I'm not the only one facing a challenge. Mitsuko is my primary choice amongst the female selection, and it seems that while making her mine is a challenge, I am proving to be challenging for her.
This will be a unique and yet, luscious change in the form of combat that I'm accustomed to. She is my newest opponent, and our ring is the social environment. The odds stacked against us may prove to work in favour for us. The challenge was an insignificant barrier that stood between each of our core objectives.
I silently regarded her, as the bell for class rang. I blinked wordlessly at her, as she touched a slender finger to her bottom lips, and pouting slightly, she winked at me, "it's a pity we're penalised for skipping study period, when it could be used for so much more." She purred silkily, as she ran a hand over my face and started off in the direction of class.
I watched as she walked away. There was a bounce to her step.
I grunted softly to myself, and shifting my school bag in my hand, pulled my jacket securely over my shoulders and silently walked for the room that our class was in.
I was one of the last ones to; calmly walk in before the bell signalling the start of class resounded.
Tsukino-sensi, who was the head of the history department as designated today's class to be a study period and had written instructions on the board for us to use our time productively, or we would lose the privilege of free study time.
I had elected to sit alone, or so I thought.
There were other seats, but no one dared sit there, except for Mitsuko – and that discouraged even more of our classmates from sitting and clamouring about their entrance exams, and other insignificant qualms in their lives.
She grinned evilly at me, and took out her history book and using it as a shield, propped it up, and leaned in. "Sensei insists that we use our time productively, so, it would mean studying together, and that would mean you might have to move a couple of muscles in your jaw and speak."
She caresses a hand over my cheek again.
She then turned back to her history book and casually turned a page, her gaze leisurely crawling my way, as I sat stoically, my note book open, my textbook beneath it.
She sighed softly, her mouth shaped into a sullen smile, her eyebrows lowered, as her eyes shifted back my way. She was masterful with the subtle movements of her eyes, mouth and eyebrows. She was quite expressive with such little movement.
Speaking was a waste of air; the art of writing was far more eloquent.
With her eyes averted, I swiftly seized my fine tip pen, and in Hiragana, wrote a simple letter. If I am to achieve my objective, I should do it right. She is a woman, and doesn't have time for flighty, meaningless verbiage.
It is horribly traditional, but the art of love is best done traditionally.
「 私は話す...ぼくのものになれば良いのに 」
I took the page from my notebook, and cutting it carefully, I folded it in half, and handed it to Mitsuko without a word. I kept my eyes to the front, on the Seishi, noting he had his back turn to us. I turned my eyes back to her, as she quizzically regarded me before she unfolded it.
I made my escape through the class rear door without a sound. There wasn't much need to lurk in the back of the room when the teacher took the easy way out and made a study period, so that he could catch up on his marking.
If I truly needed to study, I'd use my own spare time at home.
I paused, feeling the presence of someone behind me.
"You are truly different than the others. You're refreshingly difficult, aren't you, Kazuo-kun?"
I know that voice – that silky purr belongs to Mitsuko. It seems she also chose to skip out of that meaningless study period.
I nodded stiffly.
She cackled softly – she rarely giggled. She had a mature laugh; an articulate laugh that was nothing like the vacuous giggles of our female classmates.
She sashayed in front of me, one hand on her hip – she got away with such sensual movements because she had the curves for it; it came natural to her. The other girls that wiggled and twisted themselves into such contortions couldn't display their wares in such a sensual comportment.
She twirled gracefully and held up the note next to her temple, her eyes glittering devilishly. "So…aren't you going to speak? You know what your desires are…"
"…" I shrugged nonchalantly at her, waiting for her to act upon the request. It was my will against hers. She is equally as obstinate as me. If I gave in, I'd be nothing more than an easy conquest for her.
She unexpectedly pressed her lips against mine, capturing them in a moment of sudden tenderness.
She broke away, and coyly winked. "A little incentive to coax you…" She smirked snidely, "does it help, Kazuo-kun?"
"Maybe." I replied evasively, my gazed steadily fixed on hers.
Placing her right hand on my cheek, she again brought her lips to mine, embracing them in a deeper kiss. Her tongue pressed passed my lips, slithering between my teeth, brushing over mine, as she caressed her hand over the skin left cheek.
She pulled her lips from mine and whispered, "If you think you can…then, perhaps you can, Kazuo-kun…"
"Then consider this my annexation." I replied softly. This was probably the longest sentence she got from me. I wasn't one for spoken words. Idle chatter was a useless appendage on the face of society. The chattering and clamouring of the ignorant was sickening.
Despite that I made a 'move' for Mitsuko I will not be making a public broadcast of such relations – it is not only impolite, but it is also a clear indication of a possible weakness in me. Weaknesses are easily exploited by one's opponents.
No one but her shall know…
I wear a mask. I have always worn one, and I shall never remove it. It may crack, but there will be a new one, and I will always one. A mask is the best line of defence…even if you decide to give a damn about another living being.
Mitsuko – you're going to be, and stay mine.