The world is in ruins; detonated buildings, dead bodies littering the ground like so much trash, a massacre of human life. The sky is coloured crimson; all else is black. All has died; the stench of death is heavy in the air.
The lone figure of a girl watches the obliteration in horror; she sees everything around her destroyed. She cries out, but no one can hear her…she is isolated in a world of death.
Suddenly, a distant form shrouded in mist is visible atop the highest perch, a sinister shadow. The form holds a long weapon in its hands, it lowers the weapon…
A woman with long hair appears before the girl; she carries a large staff in her hand.
"You must gather the three talismans," echoes the woman's husky voice… "To save the world from the silence! Awaken the light within yourself! Awaken the power deep inside you! Gather the three talismans…to stop the Messiah of silence!"
"Awaken!"
*****
Tenou Haruka awoke with a start, breathing heavily and shaking. Her nightshirt clung to her sweaty body, and all of her blankets had been kicked to the floor.
"That dream again," she whispered. For the past few months this reoccurring nightmare had haunted her, this dream of the end of the world.
"Just a dream," she said, trying to reassure herself. It was just a dream, wasn't it? Certainly nothing other than a
{Prophesy}
nightmare, right?
"Haruka!" called her mother, "Time to get up!"
"Oh, shit," Haruka mumbled under her breath as she saw the time. Sighing in resignation, Haruka rose from her bed, stretched, and wandered over to her window.
From her window she looked out into the grey sky and the vast landscape of the city of Okura. Closest to her lay the ugly, dilapidated apartment buildings resembling her own; only on clear nights the great skyscrapers of Osaka were visible. On these nights, Haruka liked to climb onto the roof of the apartment. On the roof she could see for miles.
However, this morning was hardly clear, and Haruka was unable to see beyond the ugly warehouse at the end of the street; hardly a picture-perfect view.
"Haruka!" her mother called.
"Coming," Haruka replied, leaving the window and heading towards the bathroom. She scowled into the mirror above the sink; she looked like hell. Her face was pale, her eyes were puffy and her long blond hair was an absolute mess.
She splashed her face with cold water and ran a comb through her tangled hair. God, did it hurt! If only her mother would let her cut it…
After she had tamed her wild tresses, she pulled off her sweaty nightshirt and threw it into the laundry bin. And looked at her underwear in horror…
All thoughts concerning her nightmare disappeared.
"Oh, shit!" Haruka cried out as she saw the crimson stain. She had got her period. Fucking fabulous. Frantically she searched the bathroom cabinets for sanitary napkins, but could find none.
"What's the matter?" asked her mother from behind the door.
"Uh…" Haruka was embarrassed to tell her mother that she had gotten her period, but had no choice. She quickly wrapped a towel around her naked body, and opened the door.
"Mom, can you come in here for a minute?" she asked, cursing her misfortune. Of all the luck…
Her mother, clad in a simple white blouse and short black shirt, her hair in an elegant French braid, walked through the doorway. She gasped when she saw her daughter's semi-nude body.
"My God, she's almost a woman," thought Kotano with disbelief; only thirteen and that developed…
"Mom," Haruka said, her eyes downcast, "I've, I've got my, my…
"Oh, Lord," Kotano moaned as she realised what her daughter was trying to say. She was indeed a woman.
Kotano found it hard to look at her daughter, yet she could hardly keep her eyes away… Usually clad in her baggy school uniform or loose jeans and t-shirts, Haruka had kept her feminine body a secret.
But with only a towel around her waist, Kotano was able to see well-developed breasts, a miniscule waist, and slim but shapely hips. She was beautiful…
"Mom, it's my first time, and I don't know where you keep your pads…" Haruka stammered, but stopped when she saw the peculiar look in her mother's eyes.
"Mom?"
Kotano blinked and looked away from her daughter. "They're under the sink, behind the paper towels," she replied, and their was something in her voice…disapproval? Annoyance? Anger?
"Do you know how to use them?" asked her mother, her voice somewhat distant, as if her mind was elsewhere.
"Yes, the nurse at school told us about them…"
"Oh. I guess I should have showed you where I put them…I didn't think you would start menstruating so soon…"Her mother bent down and opened the cabinet, searching, "I guess you've been developing so fast that it shouldn't have surprised me…"
Menstruating so soon? Developing so fast? What?
Haruka was aware of her reflection in the mirror…Oh, God, her mother was right!
"Here you are," said her mother, handing her a large box of pads. Kotano wouldn't look at her daughter.
"Thanks…"replied Haruka, ashamed of herself. Oh God, why wouldn't her mother look at her?
Her mother nodded, still not meeting her eyes. "It looks like I'm going to have to buy you a bra, Haruka…" still she would not look at her daughter, "Remind me, and I'll take you shopping on Sunday."
'Yeah, sure," Haruka replied, not intending to and praying that her mother would forget.
"I'll see you at breakfast. Hurry up, it's past seven."
"Ok, sure," Haruka blushed miserably, feeling as if she had somehow disappointed her mother.
Kotano left, leaving her daughter standing in the doorway, confused, embarrassed…and ashamed. Of herself.
Of all the tortures Haruka was forced to face daily, nothing compared to wearing her school uniform.
A frilly white blouse, a shapeless grey skirt with–gasp–a lace slip and to top it all off, a retarded red bow. Not to mention the "Mary-Jane" shoes.
Not only was it as ugly as sin, it didn't even come close to fitting: too loose around the waist, too tight across the bust, and shapeless everywhere else. The school simply didn't have her size; her choices were either a too loose uniform or a too short one. Rather than expose anymore than she had to, Haruka opted for the loose one. It wasn't her fault that the uniform was designed for someone who weighed fifty pounds more than what she weighed, and flat as a board to boot. The only way she could wear the skirt without it falling off was to pit up the back with safety pins.
God, what a pathetic sight.
Well, nothing to be done about her appearance; rules were rules, however dumb they were. At least she didn't have to wear pantyhose. Thank God for small favours.
Dressed and groomed (kind of), Haruka left her room and met her mother in the kitchen. The very same kitchen where her father had almost killed her mother.
Her mother sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper and eating her 'breakfast' of half a grapefruit and a cup of black coffee. Never mind that she hadn't had a modeling gig in fourteen years. Marubeni Kotano still lived by the same mindset.
Still living in the past, as if a twenty-five inch waist still mattered.
Haruka rummaged through the fridge, finding nothing but her mother's diet food. Oh well, better to eat healthy. She was a top athlete, after all, and couldn't afford to let herself go.
She took a carton of yoghurt and an apple out of the fridge, and debated whether or not on a cup of coffee. She took a whiff-smelt like motor oil. She passed.
"What are you doing today?" asked her mother, not looking up from her newspaper. She brought a cup of the foul smelling coffee to her lips.
"Oh, the usual, Karate practice, the race track, why?" Praying that her mother wouldn't mention the bra. Or shopping.
"Just wondering. I want you home before ten, though. I need to talk to you about something."
Shit! Fuck! Sonofabitch!
"Oh, what about?" asked Haruka nonchalantly. Oh, please, anything but shopping!
"Just something. Jesus Haruka! I'll tell you when you get home, alright?"
Oh, so her mother was being mysterious. Haruka tried to think of what her mother wanted to talk to her about. Her grades? No, they were fine. Her job? No, her mother appreciated the money. Ten o'clock was too late for shopping, it had to be something else…Haruka racked her brain, trying to wonder if she had gotten into any serious fights in the last few days…she had, but hadn't been caught. And then, it hit her.
'The Talk'. The topic that every mother felt was her duty to explain to her daughter. The topic that every girl feared. The puberty/sex talk. Oh, shit.
"But Kumada-san might need me to stay later," babbled Haruka, desperate to avoid this conversation at all costs, " there's this guy, and he's got a classic Mercedes that needs extensive body work, and Kumada-san might need another pair of hands…"
"Haruka, you will be here at ten." Said her mother, voice heavy with threat.
Shit! She was serious!
"All right, Mom," said Haruka with resignation. There was no avoiding it; sooner or later this was bound to happen. Might as well get it over with.
Man, the day was off to one hell of a bad start.
*****
If there was anything in the world worse than History, Haruka hadn't heard of it.
Sure, the topics of slaughter, rebellion and upheaval may have been interesting under different circumstances, but considering that her teacher sounded uncannily like Ben Stein…
Haruka glanced around the classroom with disinterest, observing her fellow classmates. All seemed as bored as she; most were asleep, some were staring off into space, and one kid had a rather large strand of drool hanging from his lip.
Just another Friday morning in Hell.
Haruka absently flipped the pages of her history text book; admiring the art of past students. Stalin as a pirate, Mussolini with boobs, King Louis IV with a finger up his nose…all classics. Haruka debated whether or not to add her own representation of one of history's leaders to the book…perhaps something involving Richard Nixon and a flag up his ass? No, that had been done to death…
"… 'nou-san? Tenou-san?" The voice, toneless and slightly nasal, drifted through her thoughts.
She looked up from a picture of Ernest Hemingway with a gun to his head and into the vast, bottomless pit that was her teacher's nostril.
"Ye-gads!" thought Haruka, repulsed. She wondered vaguely if the man had ever tweezed his nose hairs before…no, judging from the vast jungle of hair inside, probably not.
"Yeah," she replied with disinterest. As distant as her name…
"Have you not been paying attention, Tenou-san?"
Well, that was kind of a no-brainer…
"Uh…" She just stared at him, wondering why it was that teachers felt it necessary to ask the obvious. Why, oh why did teachers find it their duty to try and enlighten her, when they could choose from forty other students? One of life's unsolved mysteries, perhaps.
"Well, Tenou-san, if you had been listening, then you would know the answer to the question I have asked you several times." He said, his voice not changing from its usual monotone.
"What was the question again, Mabuchi-san?"
The class giggled. As if they hadn't been ignoring the guy either. Stupid hypocrites.
"Well, what I wanted to know was, which countries were members of the Axis of Evil, besides Japan, and what was the significance of this?" asked Mabuchi, lording his superiority over her, gleeful that the class was finally paying attention to him.
Oh, tough question. Sad though it was, Haruka actually preferred to read her textbook rather than listen to her teacher's boring lectures. Also, graffiti was way funnier if you knew the identity of the victim.
"Hmm, let me see…" she paused for dramatic emphasis, "The other countries would have to be Germany and Italy, ruled by Adolf Hitler and Benito Mussolini, respectively. This was significant because all three Axis countries were ruled by dictators."
The teacher was shocked. The classroom was shocked. An uncomfortable silence lingered after Haruka's speech. Her teacher stood rather stupidly in front of Haruka's desk, flabbergasted. He could have sworn she hadn't been paying attention…
Someone coughed; the spell was broken. Mabuchi quickly gathered control of himself.
"Uh, that is correct, Tenou-san," Mabuchi replied, and returned to the front of the room.
Haruka laughed inwardly. She enjoyed shocking her fellow classmates and her teachers. Sometimes she would feign ignorance, sometimes she would answer correctly, and sometimes she would say nothing at all. She was unpredictable; no one knew just what she was going to do. No one knew what to expect.
The bell rang at last; the students came to life. Mabuchi struggled to be heard over the stampeding students racing towards the door, but it was in vain. Most of the students had already escaped.
Haruka was the first one out the door. Her damn pad had been bothering her all morning and she had to check it. Nothing was more frightening to her than the prospect of it leaking or, even worse, falling off. Sure, it was stuck to her underwear, but what if it somehow came loose? What if it shifted and fell, leaving a tell tale red trail down her leg, falling to the ground, saturated in blood?
Not bloody likely, but nevertheless stranger things had happened…
Reaching the bathroom in record time, Haruka locked herself in the first stall and undid the safety pins that held her skirt on. Glancing down, she was relieved to see that the pad was indeed still there, but horrified at the gigantic stain on the pad. Holy Shit! She was bleeding like a struck pig!
The pad needed to be replaced. Her mother had given her a 'light days' pad…this was not a light day. And of course, Haruka had been too embarrassed to look at her mother, let alone ask for a spare.
Thank the Lord for bathroom pad dispensers! Haruka pulled her skirt back on, disgusted by the feel of the wet pad against her skin, opened the door, looked cautiously around, and stepped out. She made her way towards the dispenser, stuck some change in, and turned the handle. Nothing happened.
"What?!" she gasped in disbelief. Frantically, she put more money in and turned the handle. Again nothing happened.
"Oh, SHIT!!!"
The stupid machine was broken. Here she was, stuck in the girl's room with a filthy pad and no replacement. There was no way that the pad could last all afternoon; it was drenched.
Haruka didn't know if she wanted to scream or cry. So she did the next best thing; kicked the dispenser with enough force to knock it off the wall. It fell to the ground with a crash.
The thing was completely trashed; one side had an enormous dent, and the other was slightly crushed due to the impact of it falling to the ground. Several coins littered the ground; Haruka pocketed them without a pang of regret. Conveniently, the small door that was used to fill the machine was broken. Haruka opened the door, reached inside…and felt nothing. It was empty.
"No!" The fact that the dispenser was empty infuriated her to breaking point; with a mighty cry, Haruka picked up the dispenser and hurled it at the closest wall; it collided with a bang.
Feeling somewhat satisfied with the wreckage of the pad dispenser, Haruka quickly exited the bathroom as if nothing had happened. She had gotten in enough trouble this year to have a senseless act of vandalism added to her rather hefty permanent record.
The problem of being without having a clean pad was still an issue, but Haruka realised that she had acted rather hastily. All was not lost; there were other bathrooms, other pad dispensers! Surely one of them had a fresh supply of sanitary pads!
She was wrong. The only other girl's bathroom had only tampons. Now, Haruka knew how they were supposed to be used, but the actual mechanics of inserting them…was beyond her comprehension.
Haruka felt the walls of the bathroom stall closing in around her: an attack of claustrophobia!
Reading the instructions, Haruka felt a queasy feeling overcome her, and vaguely wondered if she should have eaten that carton of yoghurt that morning. Were you really supposed to insert it there? It was so thick! How the hell could it fit?
She had no choice; with a shaking hand, Haruka struggled to insert the tampon…she brought it within an inch of entry, then threw it to the ground in abhorrence. She just couldn't do it…
Unable to use the tampon, and without any other options, Haruka knew that there was only one thing left for her to do. The end of the line, the last result, not to be used until all other options were exhausted.
Head down in defeat, she slowly dragged herself closer and closer to her final destination. The last resort…almost as humiliating as leaking, almost as humiliating as someone noticing a red stain on the seat of your skirt…
Nothing worse than being lectured on personal hygiene by the school nurse who probably hadn't needed to wear a pad for about fifty years…
*****
After everything that had happened that day, Haruka never wanted to see another sanitary pad again in her life.
Alas, how can a mere mortal fight against nature's curse? Better to accept it than dwell upon its unpleasantness…
All of a sudden Haruka doubled over as a massive cramp pierced her side, and her temples began to throb painfully.
Of course, just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, they did. That was life for you.
Haruka sat outside under a large tree behind the school, enjoying the late January weather and trying to summon an appetite. She had to eat; she had karate this afternoon, and Yoshioka-sama was a slave driver…
Normally by this time, Haruka would be ravenous and devour her entire lunch in less than five minutes, but today the mere thought of food made her sick to her stomach.
A tuna sandwich, a banana and a bottle of orange juice…usually her favourite, but today she was unable to manage a mouthful. Oh well, she could at least drink some of the juice…
At that precise moment a scream reverberated throughout the schoolyard... a boy's scream. Immediately it was muffled, but Haruka wasn't fooled.
She had had enough; PMS had taken its course. Haruka was pissed off as it was, and that scream had done nothing to help her growing migraine. On any other day, Haruka tended to avoid conflicts between boys, as most were mutual confrontations.
However, today was not any other day.
She walked towards the direction the scream had come from with purpose, her muscles tensing in anticipation. Destroying the pad dispenser had not curbed her rage. It had only taken the edge off. Fortunately she was presented with the opportunity to unleash her fury.
A large crowd stood in a circle around the offender and his victim. As she approached the crowd, she recognised the culprit as none other than Saeki Kenji, infamous asshole and tormentor. The victim's identity was unclear; he was face down in a pile of mud.
Haruka watched the scene before her in disgust: Saeki was forcing his victim to thrust himself in the mud, sans pants. Saeki stood over his victim, his boot planted firmly on the poor boy's bare ass. The boy was sobbing; the crowd laughed and cheered as Saeki grinned maliciously. There wasn't a teacher in sight.
Hands clenched in determination, Haruka pushed her way through the crowd until she stood before the triumphant Saeki. She cleared her throat.
"Huh," Saeki looked away from his throng of admirers and into the livid face of a tall, thin blond girl. He smirked arrogantly, ran his hand through his thick black hair.
"Well, well, well, what have we got here?" said Saeki confidently, his hands folded across his chest. "A cute girl, thinking that she'll play the hero? That she'll rescue this poor pathetic sack of shit from his fate as a mud-fucker?"
The crowd laughed; Haruka stood her ground and did not flinch. Did not move. Did not display any outward emotion. Although, looking closely one could see the slight curl of her upper lip.
"Hey, you deaf, or something? Look, do you have a problem?"
Haruka smiled, adrenaline rushing through her veins. Oh, how she wanted to beat this asshole…she could just taste it.
"As a matter of fact, I do."
Saeki laughed, "Yeah, it's kinda obvious that you do." The crowd laughed, predictably, at Saeki's routine reply.
Oh, wasn't he the clever one, so original, so unique. Haruka, however, was unruffled; this shit slid right off her back. He couldn't touch her. Couldn't even some close.
However, the bell was due to ring in approximately five minutes, so she had to cut to the chase. So she decided to hit him where it hurts.
"Yeah. I have a problem with guys who get off by dominating weak little boys and forcing them to fulfil their deepest, darkest fantasies…need I continue?"
The crowd gasped at her frankness; Saeki's flippant, confident air diminished as rage distorted his features. He abandoned the poor kid and walked towards her, standing maybe five feet away.
"What did you say?" He snarled, baring his teeth.
"You heard me. Need I repeat myself?"
Although Saeki probably outweighed her by fifty pounds, Haruka wasn't frightened. Saeki may have been larger and possibly stronger, but he was untrained. Haruka, on the other hand, was a veteran fighter, trained by one of Japan's greatest martial artists. She knew that his brute strength could be defeated by her stronger endurance and vastly superior speed.
"You…you…" He charged in blind fury at her, fists raised…
Haruka had been waiting for this; without hesitation she dodged with expertise and swung a lightning fast kick at his midsection. He groaned, but was far from finished. Jumping to his feet, he swung a fist at her face; she ducked and uppercutted him on the chin. His head snapped back with a sickening crack…but still he hung on. Haruka wasn't disappointed; in fact she was happy that he was a formidable opponent. The longer he stood, the longer she would be able to pummel his face in.
Saeki was astounded that the girl had been able to avoid his attack, never mind her landing two hits on him. He was outraged; first she insulted him viciously, and then she managed to strike at him with impressive force…it was not to be tolerated. He started towards her…and was stopped by a brutal strike to his stomach. She was relentless in her pursuit, delivering blow after blow in unyielding fury, not letting up until he fell to the ground in a heap. Yet why was it that she looked so distant, as if on autopilot?
She pressed her foot against Saeki's stomach; he was too weak to resist.
The crowd stood as if time had stopped, so shocked were they of Saeki's defeat. Sure, many of them knew that Tenou Haruka was a tough fighter, but to be able to defeat Saeki Kenji, their idol, without a scratch? He was muscular and fit, a football player and wrestler, the undefeated champion of their school…how was it possible for him to be so badly beaten by a one hundred fifteen pound girl?
Haruka bend down beside him and looked him dead in the eye. He flinched, her eyes…those stormy green rimmed blue eyes, detached but triumphant…he wanted to look away but found himself incapable of breaking eye contact. She looked as if this fight had no meaning for her, as if it was a way to release unspent frustrations…
"Are you sorry for what you've done?" asked Haruka coldly.
Saeki was afraid, but his anger overcame his fear…how dare she humiliate him, in front of so many people…how dare she beat him as if it meant nothing…he had to hurt her as she had hurt him…
"You dyke," he hissed with venom in his voice.
Haruka's face went very white and her body began to shake uncontrollably. Suddenly her cramps returned and she felt faint…how could he…
The look in her eyes changed; pain and uncertainty were reflected in their depths. No longer was she distant, no longer was she condescending…he had hit his mark. Harder than any physical hit, he had struck her most vulnerable spot.
"You bastard," she whispered, unshed angst in her voice…
Saeki felt strong hands around his throat, he couldn't breathe…
Haruka was unaware of anything but Saeki's brutal words echoing through her skull, she had to silence him for good…
The sounds of people screaming awoke Haruka from her trance. Her hands left Saeki's neck abruptly; looking down in horror, she saw dark bruises circling his neck…she grasped his wrist and searched frantically for a pulse…
"Oh, please," she prayed, "Please…"And then she felt his pulse, weak, to be sure, but there…
"Oh, thank God," she whispered in gratitude, "Thank God…"
Haruka was frightened. What had come over her…how could she of done this to him…she could have killed him.
"Oh, Lord, what have I done…"
The crowd of onlookers parted as the stern figure of a teacher headed towards the scene of the fight.
Words failed him as he absorbed the scene before him: the figure of a girl bent over the unconscious form of the young man she had attacked…and a poor retarded boy struggling to drag himself out of the mud.
*****
How does everyone like the story so far? Please give me input as it helps me write what people want to read…
-Brandt
The lone figure of a girl watches the obliteration in horror; she sees everything around her destroyed. She cries out, but no one can hear her…she is isolated in a world of death.
Suddenly, a distant form shrouded in mist is visible atop the highest perch, a sinister shadow. The form holds a long weapon in its hands, it lowers the weapon…
A woman with long hair appears before the girl; she carries a large staff in her hand.
"You must gather the three talismans," echoes the woman's husky voice… "To save the world from the silence! Awaken the light within yourself! Awaken the power deep inside you! Gather the three talismans…to stop the Messiah of silence!"
"Awaken!"
*****
Tenou Haruka awoke with a start, breathing heavily and shaking. Her nightshirt clung to her sweaty body, and all of her blankets had been kicked to the floor.
"That dream again," she whispered. For the past few months this reoccurring nightmare had haunted her, this dream of the end of the world.
"Just a dream," she said, trying to reassure herself. It was just a dream, wasn't it? Certainly nothing other than a
{Prophesy}
nightmare, right?
"Haruka!" called her mother, "Time to get up!"
"Oh, shit," Haruka mumbled under her breath as she saw the time. Sighing in resignation, Haruka rose from her bed, stretched, and wandered over to her window.
From her window she looked out into the grey sky and the vast landscape of the city of Okura. Closest to her lay the ugly, dilapidated apartment buildings resembling her own; only on clear nights the great skyscrapers of Osaka were visible. On these nights, Haruka liked to climb onto the roof of the apartment. On the roof she could see for miles.
However, this morning was hardly clear, and Haruka was unable to see beyond the ugly warehouse at the end of the street; hardly a picture-perfect view.
"Haruka!" her mother called.
"Coming," Haruka replied, leaving the window and heading towards the bathroom. She scowled into the mirror above the sink; she looked like hell. Her face was pale, her eyes were puffy and her long blond hair was an absolute mess.
She splashed her face with cold water and ran a comb through her tangled hair. God, did it hurt! If only her mother would let her cut it…
After she had tamed her wild tresses, she pulled off her sweaty nightshirt and threw it into the laundry bin. And looked at her underwear in horror…
All thoughts concerning her nightmare disappeared.
"Oh, shit!" Haruka cried out as she saw the crimson stain. She had got her period. Fucking fabulous. Frantically she searched the bathroom cabinets for sanitary napkins, but could find none.
"What's the matter?" asked her mother from behind the door.
"Uh…" Haruka was embarrassed to tell her mother that she had gotten her period, but had no choice. She quickly wrapped a towel around her naked body, and opened the door.
"Mom, can you come in here for a minute?" she asked, cursing her misfortune. Of all the luck…
Her mother, clad in a simple white blouse and short black shirt, her hair in an elegant French braid, walked through the doorway. She gasped when she saw her daughter's semi-nude body.
"My God, she's almost a woman," thought Kotano with disbelief; only thirteen and that developed…
"Mom," Haruka said, her eyes downcast, "I've, I've got my, my…
"Oh, Lord," Kotano moaned as she realised what her daughter was trying to say. She was indeed a woman.
Kotano found it hard to look at her daughter, yet she could hardly keep her eyes away… Usually clad in her baggy school uniform or loose jeans and t-shirts, Haruka had kept her feminine body a secret.
But with only a towel around her waist, Kotano was able to see well-developed breasts, a miniscule waist, and slim but shapely hips. She was beautiful…
"Mom, it's my first time, and I don't know where you keep your pads…" Haruka stammered, but stopped when she saw the peculiar look in her mother's eyes.
"Mom?"
Kotano blinked and looked away from her daughter. "They're under the sink, behind the paper towels," she replied, and their was something in her voice…disapproval? Annoyance? Anger?
"Do you know how to use them?" asked her mother, her voice somewhat distant, as if her mind was elsewhere.
"Yes, the nurse at school told us about them…"
"Oh. I guess I should have showed you where I put them…I didn't think you would start menstruating so soon…"Her mother bent down and opened the cabinet, searching, "I guess you've been developing so fast that it shouldn't have surprised me…"
Menstruating so soon? Developing so fast? What?
Haruka was aware of her reflection in the mirror…Oh, God, her mother was right!
"Here you are," said her mother, handing her a large box of pads. Kotano wouldn't look at her daughter.
"Thanks…"replied Haruka, ashamed of herself. Oh God, why wouldn't her mother look at her?
Her mother nodded, still not meeting her eyes. "It looks like I'm going to have to buy you a bra, Haruka…" still she would not look at her daughter, "Remind me, and I'll take you shopping on Sunday."
'Yeah, sure," Haruka replied, not intending to and praying that her mother would forget.
"I'll see you at breakfast. Hurry up, it's past seven."
"Ok, sure," Haruka blushed miserably, feeling as if she had somehow disappointed her mother.
Kotano left, leaving her daughter standing in the doorway, confused, embarrassed…and ashamed. Of herself.
Of all the tortures Haruka was forced to face daily, nothing compared to wearing her school uniform.
A frilly white blouse, a shapeless grey skirt with–gasp–a lace slip and to top it all off, a retarded red bow. Not to mention the "Mary-Jane" shoes.
Not only was it as ugly as sin, it didn't even come close to fitting: too loose around the waist, too tight across the bust, and shapeless everywhere else. The school simply didn't have her size; her choices were either a too loose uniform or a too short one. Rather than expose anymore than she had to, Haruka opted for the loose one. It wasn't her fault that the uniform was designed for someone who weighed fifty pounds more than what she weighed, and flat as a board to boot. The only way she could wear the skirt without it falling off was to pit up the back with safety pins.
God, what a pathetic sight.
Well, nothing to be done about her appearance; rules were rules, however dumb they were. At least she didn't have to wear pantyhose. Thank God for small favours.
Dressed and groomed (kind of), Haruka left her room and met her mother in the kitchen. The very same kitchen where her father had almost killed her mother.
Her mother sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper and eating her 'breakfast' of half a grapefruit and a cup of black coffee. Never mind that she hadn't had a modeling gig in fourteen years. Marubeni Kotano still lived by the same mindset.
Still living in the past, as if a twenty-five inch waist still mattered.
Haruka rummaged through the fridge, finding nothing but her mother's diet food. Oh well, better to eat healthy. She was a top athlete, after all, and couldn't afford to let herself go.
She took a carton of yoghurt and an apple out of the fridge, and debated whether or not on a cup of coffee. She took a whiff-smelt like motor oil. She passed.
"What are you doing today?" asked her mother, not looking up from her newspaper. She brought a cup of the foul smelling coffee to her lips.
"Oh, the usual, Karate practice, the race track, why?" Praying that her mother wouldn't mention the bra. Or shopping.
"Just wondering. I want you home before ten, though. I need to talk to you about something."
Shit! Fuck! Sonofabitch!
"Oh, what about?" asked Haruka nonchalantly. Oh, please, anything but shopping!
"Just something. Jesus Haruka! I'll tell you when you get home, alright?"
Oh, so her mother was being mysterious. Haruka tried to think of what her mother wanted to talk to her about. Her grades? No, they were fine. Her job? No, her mother appreciated the money. Ten o'clock was too late for shopping, it had to be something else…Haruka racked her brain, trying to wonder if she had gotten into any serious fights in the last few days…she had, but hadn't been caught. And then, it hit her.
'The Talk'. The topic that every mother felt was her duty to explain to her daughter. The topic that every girl feared. The puberty/sex talk. Oh, shit.
"But Kumada-san might need me to stay later," babbled Haruka, desperate to avoid this conversation at all costs, " there's this guy, and he's got a classic Mercedes that needs extensive body work, and Kumada-san might need another pair of hands…"
"Haruka, you will be here at ten." Said her mother, voice heavy with threat.
Shit! She was serious!
"All right, Mom," said Haruka with resignation. There was no avoiding it; sooner or later this was bound to happen. Might as well get it over with.
Man, the day was off to one hell of a bad start.
*****
If there was anything in the world worse than History, Haruka hadn't heard of it.
Sure, the topics of slaughter, rebellion and upheaval may have been interesting under different circumstances, but considering that her teacher sounded uncannily like Ben Stein…
Haruka glanced around the classroom with disinterest, observing her fellow classmates. All seemed as bored as she; most were asleep, some were staring off into space, and one kid had a rather large strand of drool hanging from his lip.
Just another Friday morning in Hell.
Haruka absently flipped the pages of her history text book; admiring the art of past students. Stalin as a pirate, Mussolini with boobs, King Louis IV with a finger up his nose…all classics. Haruka debated whether or not to add her own representation of one of history's leaders to the book…perhaps something involving Richard Nixon and a flag up his ass? No, that had been done to death…
"… 'nou-san? Tenou-san?" The voice, toneless and slightly nasal, drifted through her thoughts.
She looked up from a picture of Ernest Hemingway with a gun to his head and into the vast, bottomless pit that was her teacher's nostril.
"Ye-gads!" thought Haruka, repulsed. She wondered vaguely if the man had ever tweezed his nose hairs before…no, judging from the vast jungle of hair inside, probably not.
"Yeah," she replied with disinterest. As distant as her name…
"Have you not been paying attention, Tenou-san?"
Well, that was kind of a no-brainer…
"Uh…" She just stared at him, wondering why it was that teachers felt it necessary to ask the obvious. Why, oh why did teachers find it their duty to try and enlighten her, when they could choose from forty other students? One of life's unsolved mysteries, perhaps.
"Well, Tenou-san, if you had been listening, then you would know the answer to the question I have asked you several times." He said, his voice not changing from its usual monotone.
"What was the question again, Mabuchi-san?"
The class giggled. As if they hadn't been ignoring the guy either. Stupid hypocrites.
"Well, what I wanted to know was, which countries were members of the Axis of Evil, besides Japan, and what was the significance of this?" asked Mabuchi, lording his superiority over her, gleeful that the class was finally paying attention to him.
Oh, tough question. Sad though it was, Haruka actually preferred to read her textbook rather than listen to her teacher's boring lectures. Also, graffiti was way funnier if you knew the identity of the victim.
"Hmm, let me see…" she paused for dramatic emphasis, "The other countries would have to be Germany and Italy, ruled by Adolf Hitler and Benito Mussolini, respectively. This was significant because all three Axis countries were ruled by dictators."
The teacher was shocked. The classroom was shocked. An uncomfortable silence lingered after Haruka's speech. Her teacher stood rather stupidly in front of Haruka's desk, flabbergasted. He could have sworn she hadn't been paying attention…
Someone coughed; the spell was broken. Mabuchi quickly gathered control of himself.
"Uh, that is correct, Tenou-san," Mabuchi replied, and returned to the front of the room.
Haruka laughed inwardly. She enjoyed shocking her fellow classmates and her teachers. Sometimes she would feign ignorance, sometimes she would answer correctly, and sometimes she would say nothing at all. She was unpredictable; no one knew just what she was going to do. No one knew what to expect.
The bell rang at last; the students came to life. Mabuchi struggled to be heard over the stampeding students racing towards the door, but it was in vain. Most of the students had already escaped.
Haruka was the first one out the door. Her damn pad had been bothering her all morning and she had to check it. Nothing was more frightening to her than the prospect of it leaking or, even worse, falling off. Sure, it was stuck to her underwear, but what if it somehow came loose? What if it shifted and fell, leaving a tell tale red trail down her leg, falling to the ground, saturated in blood?
Not bloody likely, but nevertheless stranger things had happened…
Reaching the bathroom in record time, Haruka locked herself in the first stall and undid the safety pins that held her skirt on. Glancing down, she was relieved to see that the pad was indeed still there, but horrified at the gigantic stain on the pad. Holy Shit! She was bleeding like a struck pig!
The pad needed to be replaced. Her mother had given her a 'light days' pad…this was not a light day. And of course, Haruka had been too embarrassed to look at her mother, let alone ask for a spare.
Thank the Lord for bathroom pad dispensers! Haruka pulled her skirt back on, disgusted by the feel of the wet pad against her skin, opened the door, looked cautiously around, and stepped out. She made her way towards the dispenser, stuck some change in, and turned the handle. Nothing happened.
"What?!" she gasped in disbelief. Frantically, she put more money in and turned the handle. Again nothing happened.
"Oh, SHIT!!!"
The stupid machine was broken. Here she was, stuck in the girl's room with a filthy pad and no replacement. There was no way that the pad could last all afternoon; it was drenched.
Haruka didn't know if she wanted to scream or cry. So she did the next best thing; kicked the dispenser with enough force to knock it off the wall. It fell to the ground with a crash.
The thing was completely trashed; one side had an enormous dent, and the other was slightly crushed due to the impact of it falling to the ground. Several coins littered the ground; Haruka pocketed them without a pang of regret. Conveniently, the small door that was used to fill the machine was broken. Haruka opened the door, reached inside…and felt nothing. It was empty.
"No!" The fact that the dispenser was empty infuriated her to breaking point; with a mighty cry, Haruka picked up the dispenser and hurled it at the closest wall; it collided with a bang.
Feeling somewhat satisfied with the wreckage of the pad dispenser, Haruka quickly exited the bathroom as if nothing had happened. She had gotten in enough trouble this year to have a senseless act of vandalism added to her rather hefty permanent record.
The problem of being without having a clean pad was still an issue, but Haruka realised that she had acted rather hastily. All was not lost; there were other bathrooms, other pad dispensers! Surely one of them had a fresh supply of sanitary pads!
She was wrong. The only other girl's bathroom had only tampons. Now, Haruka knew how they were supposed to be used, but the actual mechanics of inserting them…was beyond her comprehension.
Haruka felt the walls of the bathroom stall closing in around her: an attack of claustrophobia!
Reading the instructions, Haruka felt a queasy feeling overcome her, and vaguely wondered if she should have eaten that carton of yoghurt that morning. Were you really supposed to insert it there? It was so thick! How the hell could it fit?
She had no choice; with a shaking hand, Haruka struggled to insert the tampon…she brought it within an inch of entry, then threw it to the ground in abhorrence. She just couldn't do it…
Unable to use the tampon, and without any other options, Haruka knew that there was only one thing left for her to do. The end of the line, the last result, not to be used until all other options were exhausted.
Head down in defeat, she slowly dragged herself closer and closer to her final destination. The last resort…almost as humiliating as leaking, almost as humiliating as someone noticing a red stain on the seat of your skirt…
Nothing worse than being lectured on personal hygiene by the school nurse who probably hadn't needed to wear a pad for about fifty years…
*****
After everything that had happened that day, Haruka never wanted to see another sanitary pad again in her life.
Alas, how can a mere mortal fight against nature's curse? Better to accept it than dwell upon its unpleasantness…
All of a sudden Haruka doubled over as a massive cramp pierced her side, and her temples began to throb painfully.
Of course, just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, they did. That was life for you.
Haruka sat outside under a large tree behind the school, enjoying the late January weather and trying to summon an appetite. She had to eat; she had karate this afternoon, and Yoshioka-sama was a slave driver…
Normally by this time, Haruka would be ravenous and devour her entire lunch in less than five minutes, but today the mere thought of food made her sick to her stomach.
A tuna sandwich, a banana and a bottle of orange juice…usually her favourite, but today she was unable to manage a mouthful. Oh well, she could at least drink some of the juice…
At that precise moment a scream reverberated throughout the schoolyard... a boy's scream. Immediately it was muffled, but Haruka wasn't fooled.
She had had enough; PMS had taken its course. Haruka was pissed off as it was, and that scream had done nothing to help her growing migraine. On any other day, Haruka tended to avoid conflicts between boys, as most were mutual confrontations.
However, today was not any other day.
She walked towards the direction the scream had come from with purpose, her muscles tensing in anticipation. Destroying the pad dispenser had not curbed her rage. It had only taken the edge off. Fortunately she was presented with the opportunity to unleash her fury.
A large crowd stood in a circle around the offender and his victim. As she approached the crowd, she recognised the culprit as none other than Saeki Kenji, infamous asshole and tormentor. The victim's identity was unclear; he was face down in a pile of mud.
Haruka watched the scene before her in disgust: Saeki was forcing his victim to thrust himself in the mud, sans pants. Saeki stood over his victim, his boot planted firmly on the poor boy's bare ass. The boy was sobbing; the crowd laughed and cheered as Saeki grinned maliciously. There wasn't a teacher in sight.
Hands clenched in determination, Haruka pushed her way through the crowd until she stood before the triumphant Saeki. She cleared her throat.
"Huh," Saeki looked away from his throng of admirers and into the livid face of a tall, thin blond girl. He smirked arrogantly, ran his hand through his thick black hair.
"Well, well, well, what have we got here?" said Saeki confidently, his hands folded across his chest. "A cute girl, thinking that she'll play the hero? That she'll rescue this poor pathetic sack of shit from his fate as a mud-fucker?"
The crowd laughed; Haruka stood her ground and did not flinch. Did not move. Did not display any outward emotion. Although, looking closely one could see the slight curl of her upper lip.
"Hey, you deaf, or something? Look, do you have a problem?"
Haruka smiled, adrenaline rushing through her veins. Oh, how she wanted to beat this asshole…she could just taste it.
"As a matter of fact, I do."
Saeki laughed, "Yeah, it's kinda obvious that you do." The crowd laughed, predictably, at Saeki's routine reply.
Oh, wasn't he the clever one, so original, so unique. Haruka, however, was unruffled; this shit slid right off her back. He couldn't touch her. Couldn't even some close.
However, the bell was due to ring in approximately five minutes, so she had to cut to the chase. So she decided to hit him where it hurts.
"Yeah. I have a problem with guys who get off by dominating weak little boys and forcing them to fulfil their deepest, darkest fantasies…need I continue?"
The crowd gasped at her frankness; Saeki's flippant, confident air diminished as rage distorted his features. He abandoned the poor kid and walked towards her, standing maybe five feet away.
"What did you say?" He snarled, baring his teeth.
"You heard me. Need I repeat myself?"
Although Saeki probably outweighed her by fifty pounds, Haruka wasn't frightened. Saeki may have been larger and possibly stronger, but he was untrained. Haruka, on the other hand, was a veteran fighter, trained by one of Japan's greatest martial artists. She knew that his brute strength could be defeated by her stronger endurance and vastly superior speed.
"You…you…" He charged in blind fury at her, fists raised…
Haruka had been waiting for this; without hesitation she dodged with expertise and swung a lightning fast kick at his midsection. He groaned, but was far from finished. Jumping to his feet, he swung a fist at her face; she ducked and uppercutted him on the chin. His head snapped back with a sickening crack…but still he hung on. Haruka wasn't disappointed; in fact she was happy that he was a formidable opponent. The longer he stood, the longer she would be able to pummel his face in.
Saeki was astounded that the girl had been able to avoid his attack, never mind her landing two hits on him. He was outraged; first she insulted him viciously, and then she managed to strike at him with impressive force…it was not to be tolerated. He started towards her…and was stopped by a brutal strike to his stomach. She was relentless in her pursuit, delivering blow after blow in unyielding fury, not letting up until he fell to the ground in a heap. Yet why was it that she looked so distant, as if on autopilot?
She pressed her foot against Saeki's stomach; he was too weak to resist.
The crowd stood as if time had stopped, so shocked were they of Saeki's defeat. Sure, many of them knew that Tenou Haruka was a tough fighter, but to be able to defeat Saeki Kenji, their idol, without a scratch? He was muscular and fit, a football player and wrestler, the undefeated champion of their school…how was it possible for him to be so badly beaten by a one hundred fifteen pound girl?
Haruka bend down beside him and looked him dead in the eye. He flinched, her eyes…those stormy green rimmed blue eyes, detached but triumphant…he wanted to look away but found himself incapable of breaking eye contact. She looked as if this fight had no meaning for her, as if it was a way to release unspent frustrations…
"Are you sorry for what you've done?" asked Haruka coldly.
Saeki was afraid, but his anger overcame his fear…how dare she humiliate him, in front of so many people…how dare she beat him as if it meant nothing…he had to hurt her as she had hurt him…
"You dyke," he hissed with venom in his voice.
Haruka's face went very white and her body began to shake uncontrollably. Suddenly her cramps returned and she felt faint…how could he…
The look in her eyes changed; pain and uncertainty were reflected in their depths. No longer was she distant, no longer was she condescending…he had hit his mark. Harder than any physical hit, he had struck her most vulnerable spot.
"You bastard," she whispered, unshed angst in her voice…
Saeki felt strong hands around his throat, he couldn't breathe…
Haruka was unaware of anything but Saeki's brutal words echoing through her skull, she had to silence him for good…
The sounds of people screaming awoke Haruka from her trance. Her hands left Saeki's neck abruptly; looking down in horror, she saw dark bruises circling his neck…she grasped his wrist and searched frantically for a pulse…
"Oh, please," she prayed, "Please…"And then she felt his pulse, weak, to be sure, but there…
"Oh, thank God," she whispered in gratitude, "Thank God…"
Haruka was frightened. What had come over her…how could she of done this to him…she could have killed him.
"Oh, Lord, what have I done…"
The crowd of onlookers parted as the stern figure of a teacher headed towards the scene of the fight.
Words failed him as he absorbed the scene before him: the figure of a girl bent over the unconscious form of the young man she had attacked…and a poor retarded boy struggling to drag himself out of the mud.
*****
How does everyone like the story so far? Please give me input as it helps me write what people want to read…
-Brandt