A/N: I detest Mary Sues and Ocs. Period. But I'm inserting an original character right now because it is highly necessary to complete the story. So yaoi fans, just wait and read along, ok? I'm on bended knees...
I beta read the first chapter and made an astonishing discovery; there were so many errors! Omigosh! But then that's the typical Night Strider, the writer who can't do without errors, neh? I'm being stupid again.
Anyways, thanks to my dear reviewers; castor and pollux, mistress kc, kaara, and dream kingdom.
Chapter II: His First Teenage Encounter with a Femme Fatale
There goes the rhetoric question concerning the hero of this fan fic, Hisashi Mitsui; had he ever been in love? Or to rephrase that cliché; had he ever nursed a love life even for the shortest minute? We learned that he had this inny winny crush on a seven year old school girl who had large front teeth, but by the end of the year the mischievous 'crush' literally vanished into thin air and well...Little Hisashi was no longer the butt of jokes because he no longer made a point of goggling at the girl like a moron. We didn't term the attraction as 'love' per se, we called it crush; the more puny, less complicated name for infatuation. So we try to answer the question, had he ever been in love? In this chapter, nope. You'll find out why later on in this fan fic.
Forsooth, the Hisashi Mitsui we mentioned was well nigh past his years to be entangled in frivolous attachment such as 'crush'(he was no longer Little Hisashi); in fact it was high time he got himself accustomed to dating. Meaning, he should've been seizing the occasion by immersing himself in a glamorous dolce vita; in nights out in movie theatres and some afternoon ice cream with a partner or an escort or anything. That being pointed out, let us add the fact that most of his friends were no longer single; if they were to fill up a curriculum vitae or an autograph book, they were going to place the words 'in a relationship' right after the blank beside the question of status. In short, they were some other girls' boyfriends! But Hisashi Mitsui was an outsider to the circle because, well, he didn't have a girlfriend. sniffs. His friends invented the nom de guerre 'NGSB' (No Girlfriend Since Birth) for Mitsui's condition which always resulted to some uncouth arguments among the boys. 'Don't state what's fucking brutally obvious!' Mitsui would spit back angrily and the boys would trap themselves in silent delight at Mitsui's pathetic 'solitude'. But sometimes they got crueler than this by pulling a prank on the poor boy like sending some ugly girl a love letter with Hisashi's name and address on it. When all was exposed Hisashi would go berserk and his friends would fall in to a noisy fit of titters. Once Hisashi had howled in violent vituperations that were never heard before and had taken on that ominous don't-fucking-make-fun-of-me-look, his friends would just cling to their precious lives by zipping their mouths. But deep inside, they honestly reckoned that their friend was indeed pathetic. Seeing things in that light, they came up with a novel nick name for their friend; since he was no longer the ratty Little Hisashi, 'Poor Pretty Boy' would fit him best at this moment. But we aren't going to call him that in this fan fic because it sounds too lousy and too cheesy (and I'm a cheesy writer), so we will simply call him Hisashi.
The last time Hisashi checked the stupid calendar he was thirteen years old; thirteen and he already urgently needed to get rid of his single status. That must've been an awful social requirement but in reality...it was really awful like a horror film. With all his optimistic awareness Hisashi knew that hopes were smiling at him and success was just an exhalation away. The reason being that he was already an eye catching mega suave hunk among adolescent females; not just that, it was because of his presence in the weekly basketball exhibition game that the local court was always jam packed with an army of bimbets cheering for Hisashi 'Kawaii' Mitsui.
And he was only thirteen. Imagine the charms he could've possessed to invoke such tremendous admiration. He must've been really cute in all angles. But Hisashi was NOT a go-getter despite his covetous exterior; he wanted to take it slowly, step by step with full concentration so that he might call it a clean victory. He was an introverted, non intellectual stud but he could be cleverer than what was expected of him. Or maybe he realized that no one was really good enough for him knowing the unbridled pride of his existence. Maybe.
He had never seen a girl topless, much less touched the mysterious bulk underneath someone else's bra. Whereas all his friends talked about was their girl friends' under wear and lingerie; the regular dissertations of these boys always included that distasteful, come-tell-us-how-you-got-her-laid subject, and every time they parleyed it Hisashi excused himself to the bathroom and vomited the rest of his anxieties to the toilet. Yuck! What a bunch of crumby pervs! Talk about lewdness incarnate. He thought; one of his fierce explosions of derision.
One time Hisashi was left out in the cold because as the usual status quo would have it, his friends were all out on a sentimental group date. Big idea, huh? Don't think that Hisashi never tried blind dates, of course he had (his friends being always there to succor his emergencies) but to everyone's distress every bit of it flopped out. Evidently, none of the candidates lived up to his standards; either this girl was too sloppy, or too flirtatious, or too plain, or too unconventional, etc for Hisashi Mitsui. And then onwards he proscribed any of the horrific ideas and plans that might suggest the essentials of the inveterately ineffective blind dating. 'If you have time to waste, don't waste it for me.' Mitsui would tell them and he would be in awesome yet boring tranquility.
Well, perhaps it was Hisashi's intention to prolong his agonizing 'NGSB' plight, not that he enjoyed it, it was just that...this story would just end there if he opted to take a liking to any of these ever-ready-to-be-fucked blind dates, and then the conflict is strained to one crack, get stuck there forever, and the fic is gone out to the library of 'suckage' and crappy resolutions (then Hisashi and the Bride lived happily ever after!). It would've been over too soon, neh? But of course the cynical cum way too eccentric author didn't fashion the story after the circular clockwork; so a few twists and outrageous slogs of insane accidents were added to the recipe.
Going back to the story...
As a replacement for the boredom it would summon, Hisashi would scuffle to find amusement in playing basketball alone in their garage area. What a genius resort! Beside the half court was a big Oak tree with a fat trunk, and if one looked closely there were plenty of carved straight lines on the rough surface that represented an unknown tally of something. But if you chose to ask Hisashi, he would answer these very same words; 'It's the number of times I played here alone because all my mates are out with their girlfriends.' Then he would sulk while firing some hoops. This day was something that disrupted the monotony of his afternoons like a typical spoke in the wheel or a splinter on the current (!), whatever the idiom was.
Hisashi released a shot from the seven footer. It was a fade away jumper, and since there was no opponent he had to act pantomime by pretending that somebody was trying to block him. So he did a faint and slanted his bodice like a collapsing log. There was nothing special about it; the ball followed a pretty curve along the space while swishing to and fro through the air. The arch was softly traced like a rainbow's shape, and the projectile was a little obtuse, that is, too sharp to be a sure gun. Then as if there was a magnet operating on the rim, the voluble object was sucked immediately to be swallowed by the fluffy basketball net. Swack. Nothing but net. Hisashi landed and swung backward to support his balance; the post momentum of his touchdown sent him a few feet away from the supposed landing mark. This was what he hated most about fade away jump shots; the chances of you falling butt first on the floor was almost 93 per cent. In Hisashi's calculations he already stumbled 109 times out of 113 tries, including this one.
But of course something happened because as I narrated earlier, this day was something different. Resuming, Hisashi was still retrieving his stance's steadiness when he heard a car's engine halt at their front gate or to be more accurate, at the front gate of their next door neighbor's house. A grip of heat wave caused some beads of perspirations to wallow down Hisashi's cheeks which only vexed his curiosity. He was slightly surprised because that house had had no residents for the last five years. He was even afraid to check out the house at night because rumor had it that some townspeople heard wailings issuing from it whenever midnight struck. But of course it was just a stupid conjecture of some rusticated folks. But the important thing was, some family from the other state was moving in to that house.
Then the people from the car emerged one by one. There were about four of them whatever. They had a daughter and forget the rest of the clan. But then Hisashi's world fell apart, or rather overturned; everything he held sacred in his being single was immediately obliterated from his self styled Decalogue. He dismissed the idea of remaining eligible because there in front of him was his dream girl! This time he could picture her completely; she was some sort of a gothic princess and her face was painted heavily with Maybelline's dark hues; it kinda reminded him of Tim Burton's Edward Scissor Hands. Her ear rings' diameter was as the same size of a tennis ball and they were all dangling from her pitiable earlobes, no hyperbole involved. But her skin was rather pallid or perhaps it was buried in an inch thick of face powder one could plant potatoes on it. Whatever. Then a feeling, a knife-thrust bolt of weird feeling whelmed Hisashi the Poor Pretty Boy, agonizing its way from his toes all the way to his neck to send an eerie electrification. That's what his feelings were at that moment; the kind that had no name and would permit no analysis. By then he was looking as though he was ferociously fighting for air in some caved-in lair; needless to say, his testosterones just gave him another pointless erection. How he hated this; it revived all the doggeries of a hentai teenager.
Then it finally dawned on him...it was another 'crush'. It had been a bloody long time since he was entitled to admire someone in an amatory mode. And he was no longer used to it. Then he jaw-dropped again, followed by the same course of actuations when he was head over heels for his first grade crush. Same things were rewinding before his very eyes or rather within his very body and life.
Then Ms. Goth the dream girl, as if taking notice of Hisashi's fumbling and all his stupidities, looked at him. And Hisashi, partly of want of attention and partly of his spunk's trial, did a backbone elbow pass to himself and headed straight for a hub scraping reverse lay up. Just to flaunt something that would supply him ample reason to strut. It was pretty impressive nonetheless. Either Ms. Goth uttered something of an appraisal like a 'wow' or a scornful comment like 'What a jackass', Hisashi just smiled and began to twaddle something as lame along the lines of 'Welcome to the neighborhood, newcomers.' But what the hell mattered? The girl smiled back, a screen of a smile that would win her all conflicts against Hisashi. Then the woman, who was most likely the mother or grandma, asked in a croaky voice, 'Is this house number twenty six?' Apparently it was, since a sign board almost as big as their car's hood read 26. She might as well ask if Hisashi was God's creation. Oh well, geronts of this century sure are a drag, aren't they? They tend to forget everything in their dotage. What a pity. Hisashi thought peevishly.
Infatuation almost seemed an understatement for Hisashi, our beautiful hero, was strung out for the girl (in no time flat Hisashi was, shall we say, helplessly addicted to this new kid on the block). Her name was actually Mari Su (hehehe. She was Chinese) and with all her funky get up and outlandish attitude of a reprobate, Hisashi became even more enthralled. She could finish off a pack of Marlboro in two straight hours and quaff a full decanter of Absolut vodka the very next minute she doused off all those cigarette butts (so if the future gangster Hisashi happened to be nuts for this sort of duncy vice, blame it on Mari Su). She was so freaking cool like a rebellious stager! While her; she knew all about it (Hisashi's stupid crush on her) and she got the Poor Pretty Boy wrapped around her mean fingers. She would order him like a pup to catch a Frisbee or tie him around a tree or act like her personal nanny and all, and Hisashi would willingly obey like there would be no later. All because she would pay Hisashi a cheap smile anyway. What a slut! But then a manipulative bitch had no conscience, and a visit from this rare puberty obsession was that extreme.
Of course Hisashi's parents, being the niminy piminy diplomats that they were, weren't exactly ignorant of their son's escapades with that ragamuffin girl, and they weren't at all pleased at what had been happening. Well, what kind of parents would be anyway? Even his friends were dejected arrantly; try as they might to dismiss the thought that Hisashi was no longer a virgin, they couldn't help but to suspect the worse (actually they were just scared stiff that the used-to-be girlfriendless boy highballed ahead of them in terms of experience). They had reprimanded Hisashi a hundred times, nixed him harshly to never touch the bitch again, and even locked him up inside the cupboard so he wouldn't meet up with Mari Su in some secret rendezvous. But in one way or another, the silly billy Hisashi always wormed his way out to the 'love of his life'; no one could desist him from his tired-face-but-super-willing-to-be-her-fucking-fan-yet-it's-me-and-you-against-the-world happiness. They had no right! Yeah, they had no fucking right after all the shit-eating and dust-biting he had gone through.
One time, Hisashi's mother detected a malodorous odor meandering inside their house. Only hell could describe how upset she was to discover that her son hadn't taken a shower for three freaking days, and it was the middle of summer that one couldn't get on a day without being baked! She was furiously hysterical to an even higher degree when she found out the reason; this little bitch stuck one of her nasty gums on Hisashi's head and the silly boy, due to his silly infatuation, thought it would be straight genius to let the stinking gum remain on his hair for good as a memento. Imagine the pure, gibbering insanity that affray started inside Mitsui Family's abode; well, it was a reenactment of the 2nd Great War.
Now telling Hisashi off with a disciplinary whack on the head was next to nothing; he wouldn't give up on Mari Su. And the blows became harder and harder to the maximum capacity of a muscled arm. His dad was tired of whacking; 'Stay away from that harlot, son!' he roared harshly. 'Stop hitting me, dad. It's painful!' Hisashi would scoff out loud in the air but the complaint only produced a thunder-like whip. 'Quit prowling around then and I'll consider treating you like a flesh! For Pete's sake, son, She's seventeen! And what are you? An uncircumcised lad of 13!' His dad would shout back. 'Age doesn't matter, old man!' Hisashi would retort imprudently while wiping off some tears from his swollen eyes. In hell's truth he was somewhat concerned about their age gap; it was pretty much an issue and a controversial one in that case. 'Avast, you silly boy! She's not even a doll. Take Ira instead.' Mr. Mitsui growled and donated another set of blows. Ira was the Mitsui's family friend's daughter; she liked collecting pink stuff and Backstreet Boys' posters and pin ups to tape them on her pink bedroom walls. Hisashi was terrified or should we say, traumatized by the thought of them together in the wonderful world of swains and lovers. He'd rather sleep with boa constrictor, he thought.
What do you suppose happened then?
Hisashi, thirteen, who didn't even know the meaning of dignity back then, tried to impress Mari Su further by boldly defying his parents. Through all lengths he managed to find more time with the girl. They were 'happy' until...
Hisashi's parents bought a new house in Kanagawa. A beautiful two storey building designed by Kenzo Tamge of the Asagawa firm, a world renown architect whose mentor was the legendary, monochromatic designer Mies Van Der Rone of the University of Germany. Hisashi was incensed beyond belief; by the end of the day, all of their expensive furniture, those priceless china wares where the ancient empire people of the Tu Yo Dynasty kept their preserved mummies, were scattered in smithereens all over the floor due to his perilous outbreak. Mr. And Mrs. Mitsui strove to pacify the wrathful son by announcing that he would have his own whole court in his bedroom; and they weren't lying. There it was wooden floored complete with a shot clock on each basket pole and a digital score board (I'm not exaggerating; they were that affluent in this fic). Their new house was a knockout, 'star studded' like a rainless evening. But then it was time to say goodbye to unique Mari Su.
Hisashi left his hometown the next week, still a virgin; Mari Su wouldn't even give him the privilege to peep at her under garments. That advantage was reserved alone for her 'true' boyfriend in her senior high school. Then she just blew him a stinking kiss as her final goodbye. What a cold hearted tart!
And Hisashi cried and cried. He had never cried so much all his life.
TBC
A/N: please continue reading. I know I made an annoying character out of Mari Su but trust me this is the last time she would appear in this fic. Yeah, she would be pretty much dead to Hisashi's world the next time I upload the 3rd chap. As for the writing, I know it's as crappy as a kindergarten's composition on how he spent a vacation; there are very few dialogues because writing them is my weakness (Swear! I think I should be reading more of Oscar Wilde at that). But you know; I've been besotted the whole week. I wonder why...thanks for the time, folks!