Prologue
They opened his drawer and took out a rather flimsy, dog-eared book.
"His diary, I suppose?" They said to nobody in particular.
The first page wrote:
"THIS IS MY DIARY AND YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO READ IT, YOU MORONS! PISS OFF!!"
But they read it anyway.
First Diary Entry:
"It's better to burn out than to fade away, you know."
"No, Shina, don't."
"Tsk tsk, you've returned to the wuss that you were when I first met you."
"Stop, DON'T!!"
My eyes flew open and I sat up, my body convulsing in cold sweat.
"So would you like to answer this question, Mitsui Hisashi?" My evil Math teacher said, glancing down at me menacingly. In my opinion, all Math teachers are evil.
"Haha, Mitsui Hisashi is such a lazyass! Fancy daring to sleep in Math class…"
Oh yeah, giggling girls who point fingers are evil too.
"And so we like crashed the mall, and pinched nacho's from the security guard, and he was like all mad and we were like 'grrrr' and ran off as fast as we could…"
"Uh huh," I said robotically, trying hard to be interested in my girlfriend's little adventure. School was over, and I was walking her home.
"We're just sooo punk, aren't we? We're, like, totally rebelling against society!" She finished triumphantly.
"Uh huh."
"Too bad you weren't there with us, Micchy boy. It was so fun!"
"Uh huh." I was starting to sound like a broken record.
"Oooh! We're here," She exclaimed as we drew near her house. "Thanks for walking me home, Micchy."
I smiled. "No problem."
She gave me a kiss on the forehead, ruffled up my hair and, laughing, scooted off.
Arashi was my girlfriend (who's probably "punk"-er than you, sucker!). She liked to relate her various exciting adventures to me frequently. They included crashing the mall, coming in second in an Avril Lavigne look-a-like contest, purchasing KoRn t-shirts and pinstripe ties from the resident "punk" store Hot Topic, and, of course, crashing the mall. Not forgetting – crashing the mall. Have I mentioned crashing the mall?
Ok, if you had enough sense, you would by now have realized that I am exercising clever sarcasm. Arashi is really just another stupid prep. Yeah, like a poseur. But she's the sweetest girl I've ever known (but no, don't remind me of her love poems, they go something like this: you are my rawker boi, you know I 3 you boi). I liked her enough to date her. It's been a nice three months with her. She loves me. I love her. 'Nuff said.
It had barely been two seconds after I set foot in my apartment when the telephone rang.
"Hello."
"Mitsui? This is Arashi."
"Oh, hi, look – I'll call you back later, okay? I need to take a shower."
"Haha, alright then."
I grinned.
"You're awesome babe."
"You're awesome too, honey. I just wanted to wish you good luck for tomorrow's basketball match."
"Thanks."
And with that, she rang off.
The game turned out to be a one-way traffic kinda thing. We were leading 150-23 with ten minutes to go. Anzai sensei, naturally, called us starters back to the bench. With victory assured, I lost interest in what was going on in the match, and so did the others. Miyagi and Sakuragi had resorted to playing "scissors, paper, stone". Rukawa, however, had his gaze fixed steadily on the court. I shrewdly suspected that he had dozed off; only he left his eyelids open.
Not wanting to act like a five-year old kid and join Sakuragi and Miyagi in their little game, I scoured the audience for Arashi.
No sign of her.
She probably went to crash the mall, or something. And I'd get to hear all about it tonight when she called. Fantastic.
I sighed and turned away.
Then I turned back to the audience again. Something… there was something watching me. Or someone.
And then I saw.
A deathly pale female face with jaundiced eyes heavily lined with jet-black eyeliner and mascara, shaggy bangs across the forehead. Short, wild hair dyed copper. Her thick, luscious lips painted blood red curled into a little smile, so mysterious, so terrifying. Those haunting, searching eyes gazing right back into mine, picking out my soul from a million other pretenses.
A gaze I knew from so long ago.
I suppose all this started from the time I dropped out of the team. I basically went crazy, you know. A lot of pent up anger and stuff.
I'm sure whoever is reading this now will be thinking my narrative sucks. Ok, so I have a very limited vocabulary. But this is MY – Mitsui Hisashi's – story. Read and deal with my sucky writing, if not just go away. All those pretty words – what's the use? I went crazy, and there's no other word for it.
Ok, anyway, as I was saying, I went crazy. Like, really mad. Everyday after school I'd be walking home alone. With those crutches I basically walked at turtle pace. Nobody wanted to walk with me. Loneliness is a funny thing; it makes you perpetually have the urge to smash something. Needless to say, those pretty cars lined up so nicely at the car park became a constant source of temptation. The problem was, I had to hold my crutches. You could imagine how frustrated I was.
Gradually, my leg got better, but I continued using crutches. You know, the typical self-pity thing. "Boohoo, everybody laugh at poor Micchy because he uses crutches". The more people teased, the more I pitied myself.
Oh yeah, the urge to smash up cars never once went away. And so, one day…
My Walkman sang, "You're no good, you're no good, you're no good…"
I sighed. Music was probably my best friend.
All the other students whizzed past me, and I fell behind at my own turtle pace, as usual. Soon (or rather, not-so-soon), I reached the car park. THE car park.
All the cars looked beautiful under the evening sun. A Mercedes, a Honda, a Toyota…
It was like something possessed me. I suddenly ran over to the Mercedes and rammed my crutches into the rear glass and the windows. One more time! The sound of breaking glass, oh, how lovely a melody.
The Honda…
The Toyota…
And all the other stupid cars vying for the warmth of the sun with ME.
Then the police came, of course. I could hear their frantic steps. They were running. And I was done for. Then again, maybe not…
"Nobody here, just a cripple," One policeman said to the other.
I resented this remark.
"Hey boy!" He called to me.
"Y-Yes?"
"You must have seen the guy who did this."
"Uhh – yes, he went that way," I replied, and pointed randomly in some direction.
That sent the two policemen running off like a couple of fools. After I recovered from the minor shock of nearly being arrested, my mouth formed itself into a small smirk. These cops, they ain't too smart.
I surveyed my work. Broken glass everywhere, dented metal…
I had destroyed the splendor and the beauty.
And so my car-smashing adventure continued for a month at least. I never once got caught, not by the police, at least.
"If you dare mess with my motorbike, I'll break your skull!"
Ahh, my first meeting with Tetsuo. That was the first ever sentence he said to me. Not very pleasant, that.
I threw my crutches down to the floor. My heart raced. This was worse than being arrested. Here was a muscular gangster threatening to break my skull!
Nevertheless, I threw my chin up defiantly.
"I don't do motorbikes. Waste of time."
My reply probably sounds stupid, but that was the best I could think up at that time.
To my surprise, he grinned.
"You don't really need those things, do you, kid?" He pointed to the crutches lying in a heap on the floor.
I shook my head.
"You're an interesting kid, ya know? Say, wanna try something more fun than smashing cars?" He said impassively with a cigarette between his lips. He lighted it and smoked.
The smoke escaped his lips and wafted to my nostrils. I had never known a smell more heavenly than this.
I think he noticed my enjoyment.
"C'mon, I'll bring you somewhere full of this, and more. No time to lose." He said. I hopped on his bike, and we rode off.
We arrived soon at a shabby pub with the word "sleazy" stamped all over it. He led the way inside. I followed rather lamely, not knowing what I was in for. Some punk band was playing a set inside, and it was deafening. I probably grew 20-30% deafer that evening.
The noise aside, it was pretty darn crowded. All the punks and Goths head banging with their weirdly-colored Mohawks and Chelseas! It was intimidating. Tetsuo and I joined his group of friends at a table in the corner. Despite the pub being dimly lit, I could recognize them as the gangsters from school under the smoky, colored lights.
"Hey guys, new kid." Tetsuo said to them. "Tell 'em your name, kid."
"Mitsui, Mitsui Hisashi." I said.
"What? Can't hear you."
"MITSUI HISASHI!!" I yelled, struggling to make my voice heard above the racket.
"MISSY SISASHI?"
"NO, NOT MISSY!! MIT-SWEE!!"
"Oh. HELLO!!"
"HELLO!!"
They laughed, and I started laughing too.
The music died after a pretty neat guitar rift.
// AS YOU ALL KNOW… //
The front man of the band spoke.
// Today is the death anniversary of Sid Vicious… //
Sid Vicious? Who the hell was that? But whoever it was, the mention of the name made the whole pub quieter than it had ever been.
// How many years I don't know, can't be bothered to count, but some shitload of years ago, he died, and that's all that matters. So today, in honour of Sid, we shall cover some of your favorite songs by the Sex Pistols! //
The crowd cheered. Tetsuo and his gang cheered, too.
"ANARCHY IN THE UK!!" Tetsuo yelled.
// Right, Anarchy in the U.K. it is!! //
I supposed that was some name of a song. The band started playing, and everyone went wild.
I tried asking the gang what the fuss was all about, but one of them shut me up by plastering his hand over my mouth. I figured they were enjoying themselves and didn't want to be disturbed. They were all singing along (sounded pretty horrible, if I might say so).
"OI! Let's go over to the front!" Tetsuo suggested, and they all got up and joined the head banging crowd in front of the stage, leaving me alone at the table. I didn't dare join them. I thought I'd probably get beaten up by all the groupies for not knowing the lyrics. Besides, I didn't know how to head bang.
I nodded my head once or twice, imitating the other guys. Then I nodded again. And again. Hey, head banging is pretty easy!
I would later find out that I looked really stupid.
After the show was over, we hung out at the back alley. The guys smoked while I just leaned on the wall, trying hard to blend in with my new-found "bad-boy" friends. Needless to say, it was difficult, especially when you're looking so much like a dork with your normal hair. I decided then and there, that I would leave my hair long like Tetsuo.
"Oh shoot, here comes Shina," One of the guys mumbled resentfully as a girl approached us with her group of friends. They looked like strippers, the whole group of them.
Tetsuo laughed.
"Heya Shina, how ya doin'?"
The girl named Shina ignored his question and, instead, stretched out her hand. I thought that was pretty bold of her.
Tetsuo brushed her hand aside and she pouted.
"You morons." She spat. Her eyes searched among the group, and finally rested on me. Then she burst out laughing and started nodding her head stiffly like a robot. I suppose that's how I looked like back at the pub. Her group of friends guffawed.
Shucks. I was utterly humiliated.
"His name is Mitsui," Tetsuo said indifferently. "Mitsui, this is Shina."
Shina walked over to me and gave me my first kiss. I swear I had never felt this weird before. Scared, shocked, surprised, embarrassed, and yet pleased at the same time… her mouth tasted like cigarettes.
She pulled away finally and laughed, then walked away, down the alley and out of sight.
"A piece of advice for you, kid. Never, EVER get acquainted with her. She's rotten through and through."
"Yeah, asking us for cigarettes all the time…"
Somehow I couldn't help feeling that they were jealous. I thought, rather foolishly, that they were jealous because Shina had kissed me, the new kid on the block, that's why they were asking me to stay away from her. How wrong I was.
"Who is she, actually?" I asked.
"One of the gogo dancers from the pub."
"Oh." I said dumbly. I wished I'd never known that she was a gogo dancer. She'd probably kissed a dozen or so men before me. The knowledge rather impaired whatever pleasantness I got from the kiss. I spat on the ground.
"How old is she, then?" I asked again. Somehow, I wanted to know more about who I'd given my first kiss too. It all seems so hilarious to me now, the "virginal" boy I was back then.
"Why the hell would we want to know? About the same age as you I guess. Don't know, don't care."
I sorted through the information through my brain.
Shina was a gogo dancer. Shina was about the same age as I. Shina was "rotten through and through".
And Shina was like a rebel with no direction in life, and would die that way.
That's enough writing for today. I bet Arashi's gonna call soon and tell me all about her adventures of the day. Ooh, the telephone's ringing. I'll continue this tomorrow. Keeping a diary seems fun… hey, who knows? I may become an author of a thousand novels some day. Keep your eyes peeled, man. Mitsui Hisashi, the #1 top-selling author in Japan. But first, I should brush up my vocab, eh?
End of diary entry.
Author's note: Hey guys! It's been a long time. Yeah, this is a new story. Sorry I left my two other stories hanging, but I just had an idea, and needed to get it out of my system. It's hard to continue those other two when you've got no inspiration. But inspiration's coming… I can feel it. Mwahaha.
This story will be morbid. You've been warned.
Also, sorry for making fun of Avril (you know I did, right?). I couldn't help myself. She's really punk rock, actually, because she wears pin-striped ties and smashes guitars into cars and skates and crashes the mall and lines her eyes with black eyeliner and covers songs by System of a Down…
Ok, I'm sooo in trouble. All the Avril groupies will be flaming me. I need to shut up!
xoxo,
qianhui :D