Sweet Sixteen

1: Shower Time Blues

Clear liquid shards of a new day spurted out from their container; hot steam protruded from where they had exited, and one could only assume that they were merely attempting to escape from a fire that could neither be seen nor smelt. If this assumption were anywhere near being wrong, I could say that it was at least half right. This took on a short, unchanged routine for about two minuets: exit the tube, tumble through the air within groups, splash almost soundlessly on the porcelain plain below, enter drainage system, have others follow repeatedly. Suddenly, a large multi-shaped object blocked the droplets' path. They pounded down harshly on this unknown thing, yet their attempts lacked the pain that they had sought-- the creature winced not. So, giving in, they allowed themselves to change their course on the newcomer's behalf.

She sighed. Long locks that could only be described as bangs fell over her eyes. Her eyes, a depressed shade of lavender that seemed to have been hung and beaten like a dusty rug on a scorching sunny day, stared out in a transfixed state. The girl was contemplating about the rituals people seemed to accept and why they did so. If I were one of those "people" that she seemed to loath so much, then I suppose that I should entitle her as a woman. After all, it was her sixteenth birthday.

What was so important about the whole thing, anyway? Nothing had changed-- no, not at all. She looked down at her hands. They were the same as they had always been. Long, skinny rods that most described as fingers grew from these hands. The nails were chomped to the skin-- she had always done it, finding it too hard a habit to break. So many things wrong with them... not one looked like what the books had claimed to be as "normal." Soft? No-- not when they glided across her cheeks and ran through her hair made out of dead cells. Had her face taken on some type of transformation? To her, it was more of a mutation. Like any teenager, her face contained some of the well-despised pimples, but few had actually taken it as a home (many compliments had been given to her for this "luck"). She took care of it, to say the least, but the gestures of kindness were usually left untouched.

With but a wee glance towards the ground in which she stood, she could make out her feet. To her, they were nothing but clown feet-- especially when attached to her own toothpick legs. She hated them. They hadn't changed, either. Her eyes trailed up, past her dwarfish legs, to a slightly convex hill with no true bottom; she decided to entitle this as her stomach. She never thought of herself as fat-- hell, no. She just never had a stomach that had been leveled so smoothly that anyone could set a piece of paper on it and use it as a desk. Also, she was most definitely not a bowling ball-- not in the least. But still, not perfect. They were the way that they had always been. Anger flooded within her, breaking every dam that had been built in its wake. Ugly. She wasn't different! Nothing was special about this day! She still had the same ruined fingernails, clownish feet, runty legs, and breasts that hadn't even developed fully!

She glowered for the time being; rituals of bathing began, and she tried to just stop her mind from intensifying this raging tornado inside. The tornado whirled and twirled; it tried to take her soul off to Oz itself, house or no house. Did her soul really want a free trip to a land with roads of yellow and cities of emerald? No. Her grip was firmly grasped to whatever was near, and the storm soon died off.

Shampoo. Scrub. Rinse. Shampoo once more, for the hell of it. Scrub. Rinse. Conditioner. Scrub. Rinse.

Nothing had changed. Why had they been so happy, then? Her grandmother had hugged her and claimed that being sixteen brought on quite a few new privileges. "Sweet sixteen," cooed her mother. Words were not familiar to her, so she had stood there like a little rag doll. She was lost within the world and words of the adults. Her mother had stated that a person only becomes sixteen once and, as a tradition of their family, a party would have to be held. Why, everyone would be there. Everyone.

Wash face. Rinse thoroughly. Turn off water.

She loathed the world for the moment.... Loathed? Well, more like downright hated it, but it would be wrong for her to do so. The curtains slid over, squeaking like little mice, and huddled together on the side of the wall. She stepped onto the tiled floor, dripping of old water and radiating of pure confusion that was mostly hidden by anger. With a towel wrapped around her to cover what needed to be hid, the young woman exited the room in which water, held usually in either a tank, a well, or some other type of confinement, was used to bathe.

School would be starting soon. What joy.

~*~

A/N: Konnichiwa, mina-chan! *Glomp* Did everyone have a great Christmas? Spend time with family? Someone close to you? Eat any "roast beast"? Well, I'll just say that I, myself, had an excellent Christmas. The only things that slightly ruined it were 1) no snow; 2) 12 days of Christmas break... what the heck do they think we are? Adults? *Crickets chirp* G-Gomen nasai.... Oh, yes! What of this story? Well, I had wanted to post it back on my birthday, Dec. 18, but I... lost track of time. Heh.... Anyway, there will be about two more chapters, but.... I don't know if I want to write this one as a Rukato.... I mean-- I want Ruki fans to like it, but I am a diehard Ruki and Takato fan.... I don't know-- I guess that depends on you, the reader. Also, if you ARE a Rukato fan, check out my stories, 'One Moment Too Late' and 'Between Pride and Love-- Tears Within the Darkness.' PLEASE?! And... I am getting really mad! Every time I post a new story, the words won't italicize! ARGH! *Calms down and hugs Inu plushie* I'm better now.... Well, off I go! Golden Sun awaits my playing! Ja ne, mina-chan!-Angel-Chan (Expect the next chap. out by tomorrow-- I hope!)