Title: Firefly
Chapter 4/?
Author: La Fortuna
Rating: PG-13
July 09, 2001
Disclaimer: SM does not belong to me.
But the story dies. Try to take it, and
-d-i-e- an agonizing death. -_-
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
With no close friend, no casual acquaintance,
Hotaru spent the next six years of her life
in solitude. Well, not quite complete
solitude. Once, she felt amiss that the
entrance gates and stone structures of her
father's mansion had limited her world. She
had sorely felt the deprivation of
companions her age, people she could frolic
with and talk about the most trivial things
with. Now, more often than not, she wished
that she could isolate herself entirely away
from the distractions caused by her peers;
she wished that she could have her own Walden.
But it wasn't to be. Week in, week out,
Hotaru still faced the sea of anonymous faces
as she went through the motions of attending
class. There were the frequent group projects
and the extracurricular activities that her
father encouraged her to participate in.
These pursuits forced her to associate with
her classmates, but otherwise, she chose to
remain by herself; her peers gladly did the
same. Apparently her ghastly appearance - the
visage of a ghost, someone said - turned off
anyone initially willing to acquaint him or
herself with her.
Six years after she first entered the gates
of Mugen Gakuen Academy, Hotaru was in the
last year of the junior high. Like many of
her classmates, the brilliant virtuoso on the
piano, the gifted ballet dancer, the Einstein
prodigy in science, and the literary genius,
Hotaru had earned a reputation for herself.
She was the gothic girl, the eccentric one,
and the oddball of the entire Academy. She
was the class hermit, the recluse - the one
pariah that no one was willing to befriend.
Hotaru's reluctance to form any connections
only compounded the issue. No one
voluntarily extended a hand to offer her
help, and no one gave her a welcoming hug
or a farewell wave when she arrived or left
the school building. Likewise, Hotaru never
tried to broaden her social relationships,
or lack thereof, by ingratiating herself
into the cliques or the clubs. Whenever a
project was assigned, she was randomly
appointed to a group of students. Her
teacher often forgot about the girl that
sat beside the window ... or he just simply
chose to ignore her like her classmates.
And so, when she was not involving herself
in a mandatory group project, she was very
much a loner.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
After entering junior high, her father had
suggested that she get some sort of work out
to move her jointed parts by walking to the
school. Hotaru had agreed, not readily, but
agreed nevertheless. One day, while journeying
to school, she had suddenly experienced a dose
of vertigo and had fallen to her knees on the
sidewalk. Her back bag, once full of textbooks
and school accessories had fallen at her side,
opened and its contents spilled. Hotaru
grimaced as she placed her hands on the cement
sidewalk, her shoulder length hair completely
covering her face from view. She had torn some
skin, probably some ligament as well, but
while there was no pain attached to those
injuries, the fall had disrupted her internal
mechanical system, resulting in a pounding
headache.
Across the street stood two Mugen Gakuen
students, dressed in the same uniform as
Hotaru. They eyed the young girl who had
fallen to the ground, only smirking and
sneering in response. There was no mistaking
who this freak was, of course. Ever since the
fifth grade, Mugen Gakuen students had derived
some perverted pleasure in watching Hotaru
Tomoe cringe - it was a tradition carried on
even now in the eighth grade. While Hotaru was
never attired in anything other than the
standard uniform required by the academy, an
invisible scarlet letter was always pinned to
her chest, identifying her as the outcast, the
one to be criticized. Old students were the
ringleaders of the groups that chose to mock
Hotaru, and new students quickly gathered that
associating with this pale girl would not help
them on the social hierarchy ladder.
She had remained on the ground, and the two
girls continued to sneer at her. A single
tear appeared at the edge of her left eye,
and Hotaru felt a sort of disgust with herself
for not being able to completely ignore her
classmates. Of course it still hurt to hear
their obscene comments. The occasional snide
comment about her physical ailments and the
assumption that her father must have
neglected her unmistakably cut into Hotaru's
very soul. No matter how much the sword jagged
into her heart and twisted, Hotaru promised
herself that she would only let the insults
and injuries hurt her to a certain point.
Still, she regretted that her father hadn't
removed her tear ducts as well when the droplet
moved slowly across her cheek, painting a
salty, glistening trail down her face, and
another soon followed the same path.
Another unbearable ache caused Hotaru to pucker
her brows together in mental agony. She heard
the snicker from the girls several meters away
as vividly as if they were only a few
centimeters from her ears. Resentment rose like
a black cloud within her, and a tightly
clenched hand reached forward, unfurled, and
grasped the metal-encased pencil case that had
fallen from her back bag. Hotaru crushed the
case in anger, pinching it at the center,
relieving some of her pain physically. The
girls must have seen this, for she heard the
gasps uttered from their mouths. Not a second
later, the sound of footsteps quickening on
the pavement reached her ears.
At least they didn't see her tears.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Chapter 4/?
Author: La Fortuna
Rating: PG-13
July 09, 2001
Disclaimer: SM does not belong to me.
But the story dies. Try to take it, and
-d-i-e- an agonizing death. -_-
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
With no close friend, no casual acquaintance,
Hotaru spent the next six years of her life
in solitude. Well, not quite complete
solitude. Once, she felt amiss that the
entrance gates and stone structures of her
father's mansion had limited her world. She
had sorely felt the deprivation of
companions her age, people she could frolic
with and talk about the most trivial things
with. Now, more often than not, she wished
that she could isolate herself entirely away
from the distractions caused by her peers;
she wished that she could have her own Walden.
But it wasn't to be. Week in, week out,
Hotaru still faced the sea of anonymous faces
as she went through the motions of attending
class. There were the frequent group projects
and the extracurricular activities that her
father encouraged her to participate in.
These pursuits forced her to associate with
her classmates, but otherwise, she chose to
remain by herself; her peers gladly did the
same. Apparently her ghastly appearance - the
visage of a ghost, someone said - turned off
anyone initially willing to acquaint him or
herself with her.
Six years after she first entered the gates
of Mugen Gakuen Academy, Hotaru was in the
last year of the junior high. Like many of
her classmates, the brilliant virtuoso on the
piano, the gifted ballet dancer, the Einstein
prodigy in science, and the literary genius,
Hotaru had earned a reputation for herself.
She was the gothic girl, the eccentric one,
and the oddball of the entire Academy. She
was the class hermit, the recluse - the one
pariah that no one was willing to befriend.
Hotaru's reluctance to form any connections
only compounded the issue. No one
voluntarily extended a hand to offer her
help, and no one gave her a welcoming hug
or a farewell wave when she arrived or left
the school building. Likewise, Hotaru never
tried to broaden her social relationships,
or lack thereof, by ingratiating herself
into the cliques or the clubs. Whenever a
project was assigned, she was randomly
appointed to a group of students. Her
teacher often forgot about the girl that
sat beside the window ... or he just simply
chose to ignore her like her classmates.
And so, when she was not involving herself
in a mandatory group project, she was very
much a loner.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
After entering junior high, her father had
suggested that she get some sort of work out
to move her jointed parts by walking to the
school. Hotaru had agreed, not readily, but
agreed nevertheless. One day, while journeying
to school, she had suddenly experienced a dose
of vertigo and had fallen to her knees on the
sidewalk. Her back bag, once full of textbooks
and school accessories had fallen at her side,
opened and its contents spilled. Hotaru
grimaced as she placed her hands on the cement
sidewalk, her shoulder length hair completely
covering her face from view. She had torn some
skin, probably some ligament as well, but
while there was no pain attached to those
injuries, the fall had disrupted her internal
mechanical system, resulting in a pounding
headache.
Across the street stood two Mugen Gakuen
students, dressed in the same uniform as
Hotaru. They eyed the young girl who had
fallen to the ground, only smirking and
sneering in response. There was no mistaking
who this freak was, of course. Ever since the
fifth grade, Mugen Gakuen students had derived
some perverted pleasure in watching Hotaru
Tomoe cringe - it was a tradition carried on
even now in the eighth grade. While Hotaru was
never attired in anything other than the
standard uniform required by the academy, an
invisible scarlet letter was always pinned to
her chest, identifying her as the outcast, the
one to be criticized. Old students were the
ringleaders of the groups that chose to mock
Hotaru, and new students quickly gathered that
associating with this pale girl would not help
them on the social hierarchy ladder.
She had remained on the ground, and the two
girls continued to sneer at her. A single
tear appeared at the edge of her left eye,
and Hotaru felt a sort of disgust with herself
for not being able to completely ignore her
classmates. Of course it still hurt to hear
their obscene comments. The occasional snide
comment about her physical ailments and the
assumption that her father must have
neglected her unmistakably cut into Hotaru's
very soul. No matter how much the sword jagged
into her heart and twisted, Hotaru promised
herself that she would only let the insults
and injuries hurt her to a certain point.
Still, she regretted that her father hadn't
removed her tear ducts as well when the droplet
moved slowly across her cheek, painting a
salty, glistening trail down her face, and
another soon followed the same path.
Another unbearable ache caused Hotaru to pucker
her brows together in mental agony. She heard
the snicker from the girls several meters away
as vividly as if they were only a few
centimeters from her ears. Resentment rose like
a black cloud within her, and a tightly
clenched hand reached forward, unfurled, and
grasped the metal-encased pencil case that had
fallen from her back bag. Hotaru crushed the
case in anger, pinching it at the center,
relieving some of her pain physically. The
girls must have seen this, for she heard the
gasps uttered from their mouths. Not a second
later, the sound of footsteps quickening on
the pavement reached her ears.
At least they didn't see her tears.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -