April 2005
"I can't believe he's not going to pick up!" Orimoto Izumi complained, throwing herself on her flower-patterned bed in resignation. She glanced out the window. It was the height of spring, and at 4 PM it could have been noon by the way the sun was shining. The first of April: It was the first day of school for them, but she had only two months left of the school year. She stared at the ceiling for a while, sat up abruptly, tore off her navy woolen pullover with a British school's coat of arms, flung it on her carpet where her history papers were scattered, and collapsed again, letting out a sigh of satisfaction.
Her phone vibrated for a split second and she perked up, ready to press the green "pick up" button.
"Is it him?" She wondered out loud. It was only junk mail. "Why are you always talking to yourself?" She whispered to the ceiling. The silence, it's deafening. She never did like solitude (or waiting) much. "Shut up!"
"I didn't say anything, dear." A woman walked through her bedroom door, fruit plate in hand.
Mrs. Orimoto was average in all sense of the word: average height, average looks, average build. Even her voice sounded annoyingly average to Izumi. With only a high school diploma, she couldn't even find a real job. Izumi would never be like that, she decided (never mind that her mother never got to attend expensive private international schools or speak four languages - Izumi doesn't think about that very much). The only thing that could potentially stand out was her fiery red hair, which over the years have faded to dull copper. Izumi hated how average she was, hated that like a lot of women she knew, she was meek and submissive to her husband, hated that she never once stood up for her against her father.
"Did you? Good. You're the last person I want to talk to."
"You're being extremely rude, you know that?"
"You deserve it for ruining my life a third time." Izumi declared vehemently and turned to the wall, unwilling to look at her. Her mother sighed, and that made Izumi hate her even more: she couldn't even find the guts to stand up to her own daughter!
"You know your father and I have no choice."
"On the contrary, I think you have plenty of choices. He didn't need to take that stupid job, for starters!" Izumi retorted, her voice full of petulant fury. In that moment, Vivaldi's "Spring" set in midi format rang through the room.
"I have a call. Now get out." She ordered. Her mother looked like she'd been slapped. Backing slowly away from her bed, she set the plate of watermelon on her desk and tiptoed out of the room.
"The fruit's on your desk." She said, before closing the door gingerly. Izumi was not listening.
"Junpei! Why didn't you pick up earlier?" Izumi admonished.
"Hey, hey! Don't get mad! I was on the bus and didn't hear you. You know how loud you kids can be." Junpei sounded happy to hear her voice. No matter what he was doing at the moment, he always had time to pick up a call from Izumi, which she was infinitely grateful for.
"You kids?! Are you lumping me in with those rowdy hooligans?" Izumi faked offense. "How's you first day of high school?"
"Swamped with work already, unfortunately. If you want to hang out today, sorry, can't do it."
Izumi pursed her lips. "You're SO annoying, Junpei."
"Are you pouting at me on the other end, Izumi dearest?"
"Of course I'm not! Anyway. That's too bad, I guess. Good luck with homework!" The cheerful note in her voice returned.
"Of course you're not. Thanks for the luck. I'll need it." Junpei sighed. "Have fun with your little party!"
"Oh, I will! Bye!"
"Laters!"
Disappointed, Izumi decided to try another number. Sifting through her contacts, she reached Kanbara Takuya's name but somehow scrolled past it. "Darn it!" She said, and scrolled back up one by one. Having found his number, she pressed "dial". She was certain he was going to pick up fairly soon. After all, that was what he had always done. Like her, he had no patience for anything. That, along with extreme argumentativeness, were among the few traits the two had in common.
Contrary to her expectations, the dial tone rang for the most ungodly length of time. After nine rings she was ready to hang up, but then she heard the unmistakable click of the phone being picked up.
"Hello?" A self-assured voice intoned. But it was not Takuya.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Kanbara. Can you put Takuya on the phone please?"
"Oh! Hello Izumi! He's not home from school."
"Did he leave his phone at home?"
"Yes. That forgetful little fool!" Mrs. Kanbara said fondly. Izumi had always been taken with Mrs. Kanbara- the woman had a clear, strong voice, much like her son. But unlike her son, she was a good deal smarter (according to Izumi anyway) and wickedly funny at that. "Do you have a message for him?"
"Yes, but will he be back soon?"
"Sorry, Izumi. He's going to be out until dinnertime. He's coaching Shinya on soccer."
"Shinya's lucky to have a big brother like him, then!" If nothing else, Izumi had always been good at saying the right thing at the right time. Mrs. Kanbara's hearty laugher told Izumi she was pleased with what she had said.
"Well, if there's nothing else, I'll tell Takuya you called."
"Many thanks, Mrs. Kanbara! Bye!"
Another fruitless attempt. With any luck, Takuya could come over after dinner, but she was not banking on it. Last year of junior high after all, thought Izumi ruefully, ruminating on what Junpei had said. He was going to have a considerable amount of homework (which he would not begin until after dinner). She knew from an earlier call that Tomoki was on a camping trip, so he wouldn't be able to make it. She thought back to that sunny afternoon from three years ago.
"Forever." She seethed. They had pledged to be together forever. Well, now she knew what that word was worth. "Forever." She said, more deflated. Her bookshelf was lined with photographs of Izumi with her friends in chronological order from left to right.
The leftmost photo was one of four-year-old Izumi next to a chubby red-headed girl of the same age. Izumi's blonde hair was thinner back then and pulled into endearing pigtails. Her toothy grin was wide, her jubilance contagious. She was wearing a pink dress that made her look like a little fairy. Izumi did not remember the circumstances of that photograph: She was too young. But she had to laugh all the same. Will she ever be that innocent again? Next to her was a girl she had only the barest recollections of. The girl was wearing overalls; her hair was tied into a thin braid and upon her head was a pretty straw hat. Unlike the younger Izumi, the girl looked thoughtful and troubled. What would a four-year-old scowl about? Izumi wondered. Who was she? She could only suppose the girl had been a friend, else why would her younger self save that photograph?
Next to that photo was six-year-old Izumi with her arms around a young brunette. Julia! Izumi recalled happily. Another photograph had Julia and Izumi as well, along with Annette and Jürgen, her closest friends until she left Germany; the four were at the beach and before them was their (failed) attempt at a sand castle. Then she was nine and stood gaily in front of the Coliseum in Rome next to her new best friend, Marco.
Even more to the right stood a group photo with the other kids who had gone into the Digital World with her, and the rightmost photograph had Izumi next to Junpei and Takuya whom she counts her best friends presently. It was a year after they had returned from the Digital World and the three of them were squeezed into a photo booth. Man, do we look silly! She thought. But none of them could come today. It would have to be another day, she thought with a twinge of sadness. If school doesn't get any busier, that is!
Contemplating her photos, she suddenly realized that one number (which she always put off calling) still remained: Kimura Kouichi. His brother Kouji often visited him after school and the two would do their homework in silence. It was a tradition that had not been broken for three years; she did not see any reason it should start today. It's hard to say why it always made her so nervous to call that house. She had no problem with Kouichi, who was always kind and thoughtful, but then there's Kouji. Tomoko was always out of the house until 8 PM, so any calls would be picked up by the twins. Neither relished receiving calls but Kouji was usually the first to be fed up with abrasive ringing (as an aside, that's why ringtones had to be abrasive! Izumi mused. Why else should people pick up?). Minamoto Kouji, bless his soul, had a proclivity to answer his phone with: "What do you want?" or "What now?", or just "What?" It always made her recoil a little, though she always tried hard to hide it. But Kouji was her friend all the same, and if they were going to be friends she had better get used to his mannerisms.
Half an hour later, the bell rang and the twins were at her door.
Note: I tried pretty hard to portray Izumi (who is to be one of my main protagonists) as a teenage girl in all her glory, insolence and all, and to lay out her problems this chapter. I gathered from the show that she had many bad qualities among her good ones. She was compassionate, gregarious and optimistic, but on the flip side she could also be self-centered and touchy.
I had certainly hoped to accomplish more with this chapter because of my belief that every chapter should advance the plot, but I really want to establish Izumi's character and her voice. Let me know whether it was too long-winded and how I could express the same content with less action. This story might be subject to major revisions later on, as you might imagine.
And I should clarify that this story has more than two protagonists (Izumi is one of them), not all of them are listed in the story properties.
Also, I feel there needs to be some technical clarifications. According to my research, Japanese public schools begin the school year in early April, so in April 2005, the boys would be STARTING their school year. However, in my story Izumi eventually transferred to a British International School (which actually exists! I'm curious if any of you could figure out which school I chose for her) which does the fairly conventional Late August - Early June school year.
