I have 2 vote for continuing, 1 vote for discontinuing. Still accepting votes, but as for right now, something else I needed to vent about.

I swear, this'll be the last one in a while, unless if you STRONGLY disagree about me discontinuing. Then you should probably PM me.

Disclaimer: Don't own any charries here. 'Cept my own.


There are so many different, distinct personalities within me; perhaps even too many. It's really confusing and a pain when I have a serious inner conflict. Everyone probably feels that way-- torn between duty and freedom, sweetness and rebellion-- but I always think that I get that sensation a lot more than others.

Ah well. That's just part of me and I just have to accept it.

In PE, Gan-sensei forced every participant to shoot three-pound medicine balls into standard-height basketball hoops in the gym. So stupid. I figured that lots of people, like me, would be seriously basketball-challenged, and that if we humored her for long enough, she'd just let us go. But no. Through sheer determination and/or dumb luck every person managed to shoot a medicine ball through the hoop. Except me. Not funny.

Ryuzaki Sakuno kept yelling helpful tips at me, such as "Use the power in your legs, not your arms!" and "Push it higher! Higher!" I didn't listen, 'cause she cheated on the challenge by faking a stomachache. Besides, she couldn't even serve a tennis ball over the net. Even I can do that. So there.

Takada suggested slightly different tactics, which I know she meant well with, but were no less helpful than Sakuno's. "Believe in yourself! You can do it! Mulan didn't think that she could climb to the top of the pole, but she did!"

To this, I replied with, "That was Mulan!" Takada then suggested that I shut up. Takashima-sensei, the film studies director, must have been showing a lot of that movie lately.

Jumping as high as I could, I shoved the blasted ball as far into the air as possible. Needless to say, it gaily rose up toward the net and missed it by about half a foot, smacking the overly-waxed gym floor with a cheerful thud. This process repeated itself several times.

Finally, probably dying to go home where she wouldn't have to tolerate hopeless medicine-ball shooters, Gan-sensei informed me that I "could just leave".

I dashed to the locker room. Sounds of "Did you make it? Did you make it?" buzzed into my ears like a swarm of summer mosquitoes.

"Nah," I replied with a shrug.

I changed out of my t-shirt and sweats. All the while, I felt a mix of relief that I could just go home without a fuss, and a stab of fury that I had to rely on pity to get out of the gym. A part of me screamed in disappointment that I hadn't declared to Gan-sensei that I wanted to keep shooting until the stupid ball went through the net. Another part of me whispered to me that I should just be grateful that I didn't have to stay there, trying to shoot the medicine ball for the rest of eternity in front of her.

I locked up my stuff and pulled my roller backpack from the locker. Trying not to cry, I walked to the bathrooms and ripped a piece paper towel from the roller. As I sat down on a bench to blow my nose and wipe my eyes, I could hear the last of the PE class girls leaving. I was alone. With the rough towel and an even rougher hand behind it, I scrubbed my face free of any mucus or salty tears.

I remembered how China-chan had showed us all her iPod before the meet yesterday. "Ooh! Big Girls Don't Cry!" Marufuji Tomoya squealed when she saw her songs.

"But big girls do cry," I pointed out, "Crying is a perfectly good way to relieve yourself of your feelings."

"Do you cry?" Takada Miho asked nosily.

"Yes, I do," I confessed without shame. I do cry. A lot. But in private, where no one can see me and offer their gazes of pity and inquiries of "What's wrong?"

"But are you a big girl?" Hanaka Tanako teased.

I don't know. I don't know if I'm a big girl. What is a big girl anyway? But if big girls can't cry, than I'm not sure that I want to be one. I might hate to cry in front of other people, because it's a sign of weakness, but it feels good after I cry when I need to.
I threw away the paper towel and headed outside to walk home. And as I left the school, I wondered if I liked having people around. Because I always feel alone. It's just a matter of whether I'm alone in an empty room or alone in a room full of people.

That same feeling, of just deep and utter shame, enveloped me in the club. I was so alone, and so dizzy. Drove me right off the deep end, that did.

So did the alcohol fire. Apparently, some fat jerk thought it fun to wet my white tank top and reveal my bra underneath, with 99 flammable whiskey.

Yeah. Things sort of went downhill from there.

The fire patrol came, splashed a fifty-pound compressed canister of fire-extinguishing foam on me (effectively smothering the fire, yet crushing the breath out of me in the process).

I was so sure I was going to die.

Chinatsu pressed the speed dial on her cell phone to send her chauffeur from the house for the two of us (Takada Miho detached), a grim smile etched across her stony features. I had ruined her night.

"Momo-chan, it's alright," she patted my burned and blanket-wrapped back – I winced – "It's alright…we're going home now."

I think she was comforting herself more than she was trying to soothe me.

"Chinatsu, I'm really sorry for this to happen," I bit my lip, trying to negate the effects of the pain her caring little pats were causing.

"That's alright, Momo-chan, it's not your fault. You were right about not coming. I'm sorry for dragging you all the way here."

It was at this point that Inui chose to show up. Don't ask me how he got here, I have no idea. It must be a nighttime stalking routine, or something of the sort.

Chinatsu's mouth dropped down at the sight of the boy, clutching his notebook like a lifeline and mumbling x and y values to himself.

"S-Sadaharu! What are you doing here?"

Since when were they on such familiar terms? A pang, different from the ones on my back, slid down my chest like an ice cube.

He looked up from his notes.

There was a simple answer to her question. Even I knew it.

"Data."

Never question the data master.

China-chan's chauffeur arrived. Between the two of them, Inui and Chinatsu carried me home.

I ended up staying up until three to do all the sudokus in Chinatsu's horoscope magazines anyways. Recently, a lot of accidents have been happening to me. It was so weird. There has to be some logical reason behind all of this. Some connection between all of these events. I had never been as clumsy as I was now. I never let my guard down, observing my surroundings enough to make even Tezuka proud.

Am I going crazy?


A/N: Am I going crazy? I believe so. A filler. Sorta. This chapter has GIANT hints as to the big plot of the story (yes, this story DOES have a plot).

As always, thanks for reading through, and please be kind to leave a review. Vote in the poll. Make my day.