Disclaimer: Not mine, dammit! Toriyama went that way! *points*
NEVER IS A PROMISE
Chapter 1: Same Old, Same Old
Sometimes, life just wasn't fair. It wasn't as if she'd meant to do it. It had been a mistake. People made mistakes all the time. Couldn't they have just given her one chance to sort it out? It wasn't as if she hadn't apologised, after all. She'd cleaned up the mess she'd made, she'd straightened everything up, even offered to pay the dry cleaning bill. Why did they have to be so stubborn? She'd promised that it wouldn't happen again. Told them she was having a bad day, things would be different tomorrow. Why hadn't they listened?
Marron Chestnut sat on the pavement outside Cafe Francais, resting her chin on her hands, her lips pressed together in a thin, angry line. She had her jean-clad knees pulled up to her chest, and was staring silently at a large, purple stain on the shin of her trousers.
"You," she whispered to the purple almost-perfect circle, "got me fired."
She received no reply, not that she had hoped for one, considering that blackcurrant juice has never been one for holding an intelligent conversation, but she continued to glare at it for a few long, drawn out seconds before sighing miserably and letting her head fall into her hands. So she'd spilled a few coffees, scalded a few people with the Soup of the Day, and smashed a few glasses. It wasn't as if she'd done it on purpose. Some bastard had stuck their leg out as she walked past, tripping her, and causing both her, and the carefully arranged tray of coffee cups, juice glasses, soup bowls, and bread rolls, to go crashing to the ground. She'd landed on her knees painfully, eyes wide with shock, while the contents of the tray had flown in all directions, clattering and smashing, spilling hot liquid and generally making an ear shattering row.
Her boss had fired her on the spot.
It wasn't that she was really heartbroken about losing the job, it was the question of what she was going to do now she was unemployed that was worrying her. She had an apartment that she was paying rent on, a car that badly needed servicing, and no money. She wouldn't even get a full wage slip for the work she'd done this month, since she had to pay for the broken glasses and the dry cleaning. All in all, things were starting to look worrying. She hadn't even got anything saved up. Hadn't thought she'd need it. But she did need it. And she wouldn't earn anything if she just stayed here, on the pavement, drowning in self pity.
Marron stood up, turning to take one last look at her ex-workplace, then shrugged, setting off in the direction of her apartment. Maybe later she'd buy a newspaper, take a look at the job vacancies. But for now, she needed sleep. Maybe that would help her forget the humiliation of the day. Maybe.
*********
Son Goten struggled to keep his eyes open for what seemed like the fiftieth time, as the lecturer droned on and on about the significance of the personification of the stars in 'The Tyger' by William Blake. Apparently, such a topic had all his classmates enthralled, as they scribbled down notes like the apocalypse was nigh. Mind you, he thought wryly, why would anyone be spending their last moments on earth noting down the significance of celestial objects?
He let his mind drift absently, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what he'd do when he got home tonight. Most likely, he'd have to put up with another angry tirade from his mother about how he should be working, earning some money to help her put food on the table, what with his father being gone and all.
Goten had mixed feelings when it came to that subject. He admired his father's free spirit, naturally, but he sometimes wished that the guy was there for him more often. Gohan was the one he'd grown to rely on, but now his brother was married and living away from home, working as a lecturer at Orange Star University. Gohan sometimes brought his ten year old daughter, Pan, to visit, but he never had time to help Goten with his problems any more. Not that anyone thought that Goten had any problems. Most of them saw him as the son who was most like Goku, carefree, always optimistic and happy, which he was, but it was hard to stay optimistic when he was failing all his college classes and he'd been turned down for countless jobs.
He idly wished he could trade places with Trunks. Trunks, his best friend, who had a guaranteed job for life once he turned 25, around ten months from now. At least he never had to worry about money, what with being the son of the President of Capsule Corporation, Bulma Briefs. About the only thing Trunks had to complain about was whether his little sister, Bra, had got on his nerves this week. Maybe he'd go and see Trunks after this lecture was over. He needed someone to talk to, and if anything, it would at least delay his having to go home and face his mother.
"And so, this use of symbolism tells us what, Son Goten?"
The lecturer's voice cut through his thoughts and pulled him back to reality. Everyone turned around to look at the spiky haired boy, who blinked, tilted his head to the side, and asked,
"Huh?"
********
The two fighters squared off in the final battle. Everything was riding on this last round, to the victor, came glory, and to the loser, nothing but the bitter taste of defeat. To the observer, the winner of this fight seemed obvious. The pigtailed girl didn't stand a chance, not when faced with this mysterious, brooding, highly skilled warrior. They began their battle almost lazily, a few kicks thrown, a few fists parried away. Then, the girl dropped to the ground. She took the spiky haired karate expert totally off guard, and he faltered, just for a second. A second was all she needed.
With lightning fast speed, she swept out his legs from under him, jumped into the air as he fell to perform a vicious roundhouse that connected with the back of his head, slamming his face into the dusty ground. He was down, but not out. Not yet. He spun out of the way as she leapt to strike him again, grabbing her arm as she passed and flipping her over his shoulder. She hit the ground with a yelp, then scrambled to her feet, turning her back on him.
He reached forward to grab her again, but this action was his downfall. The girl kicked him violently, sending him flying into the air, then spun around, falling into a low stance. Knees bent, she clenched her fist, hands crackling with pure energy, then, upon her opponent's descent, she unleashed the final, killing blow.
"You Lose" proclaimed the gravelly voiced announcer smugly, and Trunks Briefs threw his controller down in disgust. Damned stupid game. He rolled over, laying on his back and folding his arms behind his head, gazing up at the white ceiling of the games room. He was almost bored to tears. Goten was at college, his mother was in the lab, his father was God knows where, and Bra was at school. There was no one to talk to, and nothing to do.
The young man gave a sigh, running a hand through his lavender hair, eyes half closed. If only there was something to do. His eyes fell on the blue guitar he'd had since he was a teenager, and he debated grabbing it and strumming for a while, for old time's sake, but couldn't find the energy to move. Who knew that being bored could be so...draining?
Well, he thought with a sigh, there'll be no risk of boredom once you turn twenty-five. Which was true enough. He'd inherit Capsule Corporation and become President. That should keep him occupied, at the very least. So why did he feel like his twenty-fifth birthday was like a death sentence? He slid off the bed, walking over to the games shelf and picking up some driving game. Well, he had nothing else to do.
********
A/N: So there's the first chap of NIAP. See also, Aerith digging herself deeper into a hole that she needs to update like crazy to get out of. ;D Can you believe it? A story from Aerith that's not in first person! It's a miracle! Either that or a stupid idea. ;) Well, what do you think so far? Good? Bad? Samey? Bland? Needs improvement? Let me know, I'd love to hear your criticism. That's it for now!
P.S: Anyone guess what game Trunks was playing on at the beginning of his section? *smirk* One of my favourites.
Chapter 1: Same Old, Same Old
Sometimes, life just wasn't fair. It wasn't as if she'd meant to do it. It had been a mistake. People made mistakes all the time. Couldn't they have just given her one chance to sort it out? It wasn't as if she hadn't apologised, after all. She'd cleaned up the mess she'd made, she'd straightened everything up, even offered to pay the dry cleaning bill. Why did they have to be so stubborn? She'd promised that it wouldn't happen again. Told them she was having a bad day, things would be different tomorrow. Why hadn't they listened?
Marron Chestnut sat on the pavement outside Cafe Francais, resting her chin on her hands, her lips pressed together in a thin, angry line. She had her jean-clad knees pulled up to her chest, and was staring silently at a large, purple stain on the shin of her trousers.
"You," she whispered to the purple almost-perfect circle, "got me fired."
She received no reply, not that she had hoped for one, considering that blackcurrant juice has never been one for holding an intelligent conversation, but she continued to glare at it for a few long, drawn out seconds before sighing miserably and letting her head fall into her hands. So she'd spilled a few coffees, scalded a few people with the Soup of the Day, and smashed a few glasses. It wasn't as if she'd done it on purpose. Some bastard had stuck their leg out as she walked past, tripping her, and causing both her, and the carefully arranged tray of coffee cups, juice glasses, soup bowls, and bread rolls, to go crashing to the ground. She'd landed on her knees painfully, eyes wide with shock, while the contents of the tray had flown in all directions, clattering and smashing, spilling hot liquid and generally making an ear shattering row.
Her boss had fired her on the spot.
It wasn't that she was really heartbroken about losing the job, it was the question of what she was going to do now she was unemployed that was worrying her. She had an apartment that she was paying rent on, a car that badly needed servicing, and no money. She wouldn't even get a full wage slip for the work she'd done this month, since she had to pay for the broken glasses and the dry cleaning. All in all, things were starting to look worrying. She hadn't even got anything saved up. Hadn't thought she'd need it. But she did need it. And she wouldn't earn anything if she just stayed here, on the pavement, drowning in self pity.
Marron stood up, turning to take one last look at her ex-workplace, then shrugged, setting off in the direction of her apartment. Maybe later she'd buy a newspaper, take a look at the job vacancies. But for now, she needed sleep. Maybe that would help her forget the humiliation of the day. Maybe.
Son Goten struggled to keep his eyes open for what seemed like the fiftieth time, as the lecturer droned on and on about the significance of the personification of the stars in 'The Tyger' by William Blake. Apparently, such a topic had all his classmates enthralled, as they scribbled down notes like the apocalypse was nigh. Mind you, he thought wryly, why would anyone be spending their last moments on earth noting down the significance of celestial objects?
He let his mind drift absently, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what he'd do when he got home tonight. Most likely, he'd have to put up with another angry tirade from his mother about how he should be working, earning some money to help her put food on the table, what with his father being gone and all.
Goten had mixed feelings when it came to that subject. He admired his father's free spirit, naturally, but he sometimes wished that the guy was there for him more often. Gohan was the one he'd grown to rely on, but now his brother was married and living away from home, working as a lecturer at Orange Star University. Gohan sometimes brought his ten year old daughter, Pan, to visit, but he never had time to help Goten with his problems any more. Not that anyone thought that Goten had any problems. Most of them saw him as the son who was most like Goku, carefree, always optimistic and happy, which he was, but it was hard to stay optimistic when he was failing all his college classes and he'd been turned down for countless jobs.
He idly wished he could trade places with Trunks. Trunks, his best friend, who had a guaranteed job for life once he turned 25, around ten months from now. At least he never had to worry about money, what with being the son of the President of Capsule Corporation, Bulma Briefs. About the only thing Trunks had to complain about was whether his little sister, Bra, had got on his nerves this week. Maybe he'd go and see Trunks after this lecture was over. He needed someone to talk to, and if anything, it would at least delay his having to go home and face his mother.
"And so, this use of symbolism tells us what, Son Goten?"
The lecturer's voice cut through his thoughts and pulled him back to reality. Everyone turned around to look at the spiky haired boy, who blinked, tilted his head to the side, and asked,
"Huh?"
The two fighters squared off in the final battle. Everything was riding on this last round, to the victor, came glory, and to the loser, nothing but the bitter taste of defeat. To the observer, the winner of this fight seemed obvious. The pigtailed girl didn't stand a chance, not when faced with this mysterious, brooding, highly skilled warrior. They began their battle almost lazily, a few kicks thrown, a few fists parried away. Then, the girl dropped to the ground. She took the spiky haired karate expert totally off guard, and he faltered, just for a second. A second was all she needed.
With lightning fast speed, she swept out his legs from under him, jumped into the air as he fell to perform a vicious roundhouse that connected with the back of his head, slamming his face into the dusty ground. He was down, but not out. Not yet. He spun out of the way as she leapt to strike him again, grabbing her arm as she passed and flipping her over his shoulder. She hit the ground with a yelp, then scrambled to her feet, turning her back on him.
He reached forward to grab her again, but this action was his downfall. The girl kicked him violently, sending him flying into the air, then spun around, falling into a low stance. Knees bent, she clenched her fist, hands crackling with pure energy, then, upon her opponent's descent, she unleashed the final, killing blow.
"You Lose" proclaimed the gravelly voiced announcer smugly, and Trunks Briefs threw his controller down in disgust. Damned stupid game. He rolled over, laying on his back and folding his arms behind his head, gazing up at the white ceiling of the games room. He was almost bored to tears. Goten was at college, his mother was in the lab, his father was God knows where, and Bra was at school. There was no one to talk to, and nothing to do.
The young man gave a sigh, running a hand through his lavender hair, eyes half closed. If only there was something to do. His eyes fell on the blue guitar he'd had since he was a teenager, and he debated grabbing it and strumming for a while, for old time's sake, but couldn't find the energy to move. Who knew that being bored could be so...draining?
Well, he thought with a sigh, there'll be no risk of boredom once you turn twenty-five. Which was true enough. He'd inherit Capsule Corporation and become President. That should keep him occupied, at the very least. So why did he feel like his twenty-fifth birthday was like a death sentence? He slid off the bed, walking over to the games shelf and picking up some driving game. Well, he had nothing else to do.
A/N: So there's the first chap of NIAP. See also, Aerith digging herself deeper into a hole that she needs to update like crazy to get out of. ;D Can you believe it? A story from Aerith that's not in first person! It's a miracle! Either that or a stupid idea. ;) Well, what do you think so far? Good? Bad? Samey? Bland? Needs improvement? Let me know, I'd love to hear your criticism. That's it for now!
P.S: Anyone guess what game Trunks was playing on at the beginning of his section? *smirk* One of my favourites.