Second Chances
BattleStations
Moi-san
Crash!
Even in the morning cats in the allies fought over trash and made a horrible noise of it. Growls and spitting hisses echoed through the neighborhood with the clang of dropped garbage cans and scattering trash.
She was up twenty minutes before her alarm would have gone off. With her bleary vision she stared at the same glowing red numbers though their glow wasn't as intense when the sun was up and shinning through her small window across the top of her wall.
Grunting she sat up and tiredly looked at the closed paper door. The dojo was uncomfortably quiet reminding her that it was empty, only her. She sighed and stood to let her blankets fall in a bunch as she stepped onto the cold floor. She shuffled across the floor and rummaged through her dresser for her school clothes.
Digging in the drawers she saw her breath come out in a fog. It was a sure sign that the added generator had went out during the night. She would have to fix the generator later though right now she had school.
Fellow students walking that morning sneered at her as she made her way towards the school. They were all so predictable. She clutched her bag in one hand and tried to ignore them back.
As she came onto the school grounds there was a collective glare in her direction. She smiled and waved at all of them. Her actions just made them angrier which was all the more funny to her. All she had done was wave, come on.
"Moi-san!" Some freshmen yelled for her and she just continued towards the warm building. Her first period teacher always let her in early so she wouldn't have to stay with the other students. At the very least, some of the teachers had compassion toward her.
"Moi-san!" Another voice joined in. She sighed quickening her pace and hoping they wouldn't catch up. The ones calling for her were a small group of odd students that flocked together; they seemed to look up to her because of her defiance to the other students' treatment.
As she opened the door the said group formed around her and grinned walking with her, they were proud to walk with her, she glared at the ground in front of her. Affiliating themselves with her only got them hated even more around the school.
According to their rumors, they all sucked at martial arts. They had been forced to quit, and therefore, the students deemed it just as bad as not attempting at all, which they swear she did.
"That was great when you waved!" One chimed grinning with flushed cheeks.
"Piss off." She mumbled leaving them behind. It was best for their group to stay away from her; they probably got beaten up all the time for it.
Passing the music hall a hand shot out and she watched as it grabbed her coat and pulled her into the hall. He never did give up. She felt the clutched tug her chest forward into the narrow hall. She gave no resistance and stared blandly at the boy still holding her coat in his fist.
"I'm getting tired of this." HIs angry voice was low and irritated. She looked up at the fellow junior; she never really saw it important to remember his name. "You let everyone treat you like crap! You can kick all of their asses! At the same time! I know you can…… why do you let them?" his tone had changed at the end. He was probably the only one who cared what happened to her and she couldn't even remember his name. He was one of the boys she had beaten up when she was six. He had never forgotten the fight and stuck up for her when they were little. But a thing called pier pressure forced him to do it in secret one they were older.
"I hear ignorance is bliss." She told him taking the front of her coat back. "I'm fine on my own you know. If you need someone to save look for someone else." She added looking out the window on the steel door they were next to. "They might be more willing."
She never saw him again, never did learn his name.
The generator was more work then she would have liked. And even after her efforts it still wasn't enough as it went out during her kata that night. Dressed in her workout clothes of a pair of black crops that loosened at her knees, a long sleeved dark grey shirt and her cloth black shoes over thin ankle socks she resigned to tackle the task once again. Dropping her bag of tools she squatted in front of the silent machine and worked on removing the metal plate protecting its insides.
She pushed her bangs out of her face and grabbed the small canvas bag. With the little light in her backyard she rummaged through the small bag until she successfully pulled out a screwdriver then mysteriously disappeared in a puff of smoke….
