Chapter 2: More Running & the Death of Now
I wanted to get further in this chapter, but I liked where it stopped. Plus it already takes up eight pages in size 10 Times New Roman font. ' So I figured, here we stop.
I'm going to a wedding over the weekend, so the next chapter might be a little delayed. But that's the really good one, so please stick with me! Bounces up and down a few times
Enjoy!
Lightning, running, running fast
"Shin? Shin!"
Panic, fear, thunder
Home, the Girl, the Voice
"Satu? Satu, are you alright?"
Grief, loss, running
Pain, EEW, fire
Rain, mud, the creek
Something appearing, something bright…
"SHATUN!"
The two names combine and muddle in my throbbing mind. What happened? Oh yeah. I tried to knock down the door with my head. That's definitely gonna leave a mark. My skull wants to crack right down the middle. I grimace, putting a hand to it and feel a small, tender bump growing under my skin.
I can hear them calling me. Man, how embarrassing. I knocked myself out like a bird flying into a window. Face crumpled, I keep one hand on the lump and push myself up with the other.
Bad move.
The tile floor heaves and bucks while the walls twist and coil. My arm buckles, dropping me back to the floor. But before my head can hit, someone catches it with gentle hands.
I lug my eyes open to see Keiko, our Class President, cradling my noggin like it were gold. She looks concerned. I can't control my thoughts and they swirl to what I know about her.
She's reliable, kind and loyal, thoughtful and responsible: everybody's sweetheart. She's one of the rare people who even notices me on a regular basis. She has a weird taste for guys. Rumor had it that she was going out with Urameshi.
I remember. I was there, watching from the newspaper rack.
A soccer ball bounces into the street, a small child reaching, grabbing it. That boy in green was yelling, diving, and pushing him out of the way. Brakes squeal, but it's too late. His body only creates a dull thud as it collides with the car and rolls over the hood.
I was at his wake, too, standing quietly in the shadows.
I pay my respects to his weeping mother. My only prayer for him: May you come back better than you were before. I leave the house for the alluring shadows of a corner. I see Keiko, sobbing piteously with a small group of friends. A ruckus goes up to one side. A large man is pushing through the crowd. It's Kuwabara. His gang is draped around his arms and legs, trying to stop him. He's yelling, but tears flow down his face.
Urameshi had more friends than he realized.
Suddenly, I feel him. I know he is near with a clarity that forces my eyes to open a little wider. They flit to the sky, scanning back and forth. Out of the corner of one eye, I think I see him floating next to something pink, but when I look back there's nothing there. Frightened and confused, I leave hastily and avoid looking at the sky for weeks.
I look up at her caring brown eyes. I know she still loves him.
I'm so sorry.
She must be lonely. Her eyes take on a look of uncertainty before she asks again, "Satu, are you alright?"
By this time I've regained some of my lost composure, at least enough to feel horribly embarrassed. I sit up again. This time the floor doesn't try to fling me off the planet. I nod once. A sharp stab of pain slits through my head, but I stand.
"Of course she's okay," snaps Mr. Iwamoto. "Shin, get into class, you have a tardy-slip. If you don't hurry I'll give you one, too, Keiko."
Great, my first late-slip of the week and it's only first hour. The way things are going I'll be in detention before Wednesday. I sigh miserably while Keiko chirps, "Hai, Sensei!"
I lean over to grab my book bag and the floor sways. I stagger, almost falling into Keiko and coming dangerously close to bumping Mr. Iwamoto. Blushing furiously, I scurry into the classroom through the now open door.
Oh! Look, Stupid! The door is open! See? You can walk through it when it's open! Now isn't that amazing?
Oh, shut it, I tell myself.
Mr. Iwamoto hands me a signed tardy-slip. I slip it into my History book and scamper to my seat.
The class is staring. They're all dying to know my newest disaster. I feel fifty eyeballs boring holes into my skull, not that I'm going to offer up any chitchat.
"It's okay," the ever-helpful Keiko says as she and Mr. Iwamoto come in, "Satu just ran into the door and knocked herself out."
O Kami, please take me now.
I drop into my seat and the floor drops with me. Bye-bye stomach.
While I'm trying not to display my breakfast on my desk, the class snickers. I hear "Satu the Smooth" whispered around the room. I can't believe they still call me that after all these years. The boy next to me, Jiro, goads "Satu's an egghead!"
Great, there's the name of the day. Egghead. I touch the swelling goose egg in the middle of my forehead. Feeling like an ant, I sink down in my seat while the floor does acrobatics.
Yep, it left a mark. I wonder what color it is by now? Red, blue and purple seem like good bets.
I try to cover it with the sparse black bangs that are always hanging in my eyes. My hair feels matted. I tug out some of the tangles, wishing I'd had time to shower last night.
"Everyone, shizuka ni!" says Mr. Iwamoto, "It's time to settle down and get to work. Now, can anyone recite the main ideas of last week's lesson? Keiko?"
Keiko answers perfectly, of course. I get out my latest book and read. It's Maximum Ride: The Angel Experiment, fresh from America. When I read everything else just fades away…
I'm just calculating the possibility of 2 bird genes in a human being enough to give them a 13-foot wingspan when there comes a buzzing. It's a brassy, irritable buzzing and it won't go away. I shake my head. Maybe it's my ears ringing. It's still there. Still unwilling to come fully out of my book, I glance up. The buzzing has stopped. (Gasp!) The classroom is empty!
That was the bell, Stupid! Now you're going to be late again!
I turn into Shadow, my stealthiest state of mind. Gathering my books, (I'm only caring three leisure ones today) I empty my mind, envisioning the empty classroom. Mr. Iwamoto doesn't even twitch as I slink past him.
On my way out, someone gives the door a push. I don't see it in time (big surprise there, right?) and crash into it again. Man has many words for when this type of thing occurs, most of them would have to be censored. However, there is one word, consisting of two elongated vowels, which I may use without guilt when describing the extreme agony of my pain. And that word is:
Owwwiiiiii!
Tears pop into my eyes while my goose egg throbs. If there was a gosling in there, it just broke its neck. This door 'n' me, real head-bangers we are.
Mr. Iwamoto looks up from his papers at the Thwack, and the hissing sound of me breathing through my teeth, trying not to burst into tears.
"Shin? What are you doing in here? You're late for you're next class. Here, let me fill you out a tardy-slip."
He's says that like he cares. Sorry old man, but two more of those and my library privileges are cancelled for the week! Can't let that happen!
I dart out his room, sprinting down the hall. Geez, it's not enough that I've been running all night but now I have to run all day too! My shoes squeak with each step; their soles are wearing out. I didn't have time to change into my school shoes in my mad dash to get to homeroom. I hope no one notices.
"Shin Toki! Stop right there!"
Just had to think it, didn't cha?
I stumble one my toes, latching onto the window to help slow me down. (I didn't fall! YAY!) I take a moment to admire the view: a clear, sapphire sky shining above a seemingly pristine city. However something very ugly is about to happen.
Something will die.
A short, fat lady in her mid forties comes waddling up to me. Believe it or not, it's the P.E. teacher, Mrs. Ito. She is the murderer. If I can ever make it to second period, I'll have her for third. She's a really unusual individual who always seems to be aware of me.
"Now, Miss Shin, though I love to see your enthusiasm for running, I must say that the hall way is not the place for it, not even now after the bell rings. Speaking of which, you're now not only violating the safety rule about no running in the hall, but now you're also late for class. Now you stand right where those bitsy little feet are and I'll write you out a tardy-slip and a misconduct slip. Oh! Goodness me! Those wouldn't be your street shoes, now would they, Miss Shin? That's a direct violation of the school dress code! Now I'll have to write you up a slip for that, too. Honestly, now Miss Shin! Must you make my hand work so hard? Now, let me see…"
… Obviously, our P.E. teacher is rather long-winded and has an undying affection for the word "Now."
She fills out three slips, muttering all the while.
"There you go, now!" She hands me the papers and I wince. That word was dead about the third time she used it. "Now (flinch) you're all taken care of and ready to go to your next class, which is starting now. (Cringe) Run along, now! (Flinch) Oh no! You didn't think I meant literally, did you now? (Grimace) Oh, ho ho ho! Now, (wince) off to class with you! Good-bye, now!"
Cringing, I walk quickly down the hall. I hold the funeral services in my head.
Today we honor the word "Now." Who died tragically from word overuse, commonly know as overkill. He was a fine word until Mrs. Ito got her rambling lips around him, for that was the beginning of the end. We shall burry Now, and try to use him as little as possible. He will be missed as an important adjective in our lives. Now leaves behind his wife, No, and their son, Ow.
I shake my head sadly. Poor word. He didn't even stand a chance.
Stashing the newest demerits into my history book, my walk slows to a creep as I near my next class: Literature.
They've already started, the lights are off and the projection light is on. It displays a sheet on William Shakespeare. They're taking notes.
I still have a chance. If I can slip in, get to my seat and start taking notes without too much noise, I can avoid a tardy-slip from Mr. Hayashi, too. The trick is not to be a klutz.
So in short—I'm doomed.
I am Shadow. I am Shadow, I chant to myself.
I slide the door open, slither inside and slip it shut. I glide across the floor. Skim beneath the projection's light and drift into my seat. I did it all so smoothly, so silently that no one even blinked. Well, except for that oaf in the back, but he's just weird.
Feeling proud, I sneak out my paper and pen. I wonder if Shakespeare could be so sneaky?
Literatures passes uneventfully, thank Kami, so next is lunch.
I dislike lunch with a passion.
First of all, I have to scuttle down the hall, trying not to get stepped on, shoved, squished or trip over my own feet and have all three happen. Then I have to wait in the middle of a long, loud lunch line, worrying if I have enough money to pay or if I'll have to charge again. Some days I don't eat lunch, not because of the expenses, just to escape the noise.
There are doors near the back of the cafeteria, but we aren't allowed outside. We sit at eight long bench-like tables that each run half the length of the room. If I sit at the very end of the table farthest from the doors, nearest to the halls we just came from, I can escape most of the noise and ramming.
I sit there today, trying not to flinch every time a student squeals or shouts on the other side of the room. Trying not to hear them, trying to be invisible, I munch down my raw carrots, broccoli and cauliflower. I didn't have enough for dressing.
Snapping a dry carrot on my teeth, I reflect on the Dream. Did I have it again when I passed out? I can't remember.
Okay, Stupid, so lets think on things you know.
Um, okay. I know I've had that same dream for the past month at least. But this morning was the farthest I ever gotten, and the first time I was able to force a dream to continue. If I did dream it again when I K.O.'d myself, it started right where I was put into first person and normally I dream in third.
So, yes, the Girl is I. But I don't know how you could get separated from yourself like that. I don't feel like the Girl is here inside me. (Gasp!) I'm not going schizophrenic, am I? Oh no! First you dream like you are, then you talk to yourself! Next thing you know, you're talking to objects and rocking back and forth in the corner of a round, white room! I knew I was going crazy!
Maa maa, you already talk to yourself, Stupid. And I plainly recall you telling those bottles to STAY.
Yeah, so? That doesn't count! I didn't say it out loud!
Just because they didn't stay doesn't mean it doesn't count! And like you could! Did you forget that you're—
That's a triple negative! Improper grammar! Ha! Who's the stupid one now?
I couldn't let myself finish that thought. It not true…but it still reminds me of Mom. It's best I forget her.
BRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIII! Says Mr. Bell.
I jump so hard that my legs hit the underside of the table. I hope no one saw that. Now I'll have bruises on my knees, too.
Now it's off to Phys Ed for physical torture and more funerals for the word 'Now.'
It's still a perfect day out, with crystal blue skies and a slight wind. There are sixteen girls, one fat lady, and the football team out on the field/track today. The girls make up my third period P.E. class. The football team was busy showing off. The lady, Mrs. Ito, was already beginning her assault.
"Now, since this is my smallest class, we'll now be running both the 400-meter run and the 100-meter dash today."
Everyone groans. I wonder why she says "we" when she means "you." I don't think she could run a hundred meters.
"Now ladies, I see those hunkies over there, working out. You are now watching the very definition of a hunky. (All the girls had their eyes glued to the boys.) They flex those pecks and now all our hearts go a-fluttering! (Mine wasn't.) Now, watch as they run. (Mrs. Ito had them now; even I was enticed to look.) Their hair waves to you in the wind now wave back darlings! (We all wave back.) I know they're cute now, but in twenty years they'll be bald!"
Several of the girls who'd been eyeing the "hunkies" wistfully gasp and draw back in horror. A blonde girl with pigtails even squeaks. Uh-oh, it's our Cheerleader Captain, Saito Hoshi.
Cue the water works in three, two…one…
Saito bursts into great, wailing sobs. She's so loud that a few jocks on the field look up. Her friends squeal "Hoshi!" swarming around her as she sinks to the ground, bawling.
"Now, now," comforts Mrs. Ito. By this time she's got the majority of us flinching. "Yes, now I know it's a terrible thought to be thinking now. But after these years of fun and games have passed, you'll go off into the grueling world of society and your once hunky husband will lose all his hair." She pretends to wipe away a tear. Saito doesn't bother; she's too busy howling. Her fan club frets over her mascara, which is pouring down her face. I find it rather hilarious.
"Now, Miss Saito! You straighten up, now! Now it's not like we can't enjoy them now, when they're young and gorgeous! Now even I myself have been sweet on Coach Kimura, now don't you know!" Mrs. Ito finishes her speech with a wink.
This shuts Saito up. She blinks pitifully and sniffs once. Then she picks herself up. She's immediately enfolded in a group hug. Unfortunately, she uses the opportunity to smear off some of her mascara one the other girl's gym uniforms.
Well, at least she doesn't look like a rejected clown anymore.
Finally, Mrs. Ito gets us arranging in running order. I'm last, of course, because I nearly have to run into Mrs. Ito the get her to notice me.
We took a vote (mine didn't get counted) so first is the 400-meter run. I think most of the girls are bakas for deciding to go this way. We'll be too tired to get a good score on the 100-meter dash.
((Somewhere around 10 minutes later))
I'm dead.
I am not lying here on the grass, panting like a dog. I am in heaven.
My muscles are not screaming in agony and I have not barfed twice.
I am as free as a bird as I fly about. Effortlessly swooping—OWCH! Ow…ow.
Pain awakens me from that fantasy.
"Gomen," says the girl who's just tripped over my aching legs, stepping on one in the process. "Didn't see you there…" She stumbles away to puke in the trashcan.
It was horrifying…absolutely gruesome. If anyone ever tells you fat ladies can't run, don't believe them. I repeat: Do not believe them! Fat ladies like Mrs. Ito can run. In fact, they can run very fast—even while yelling into a megaphone.
"FASTER, LADIES! C'MON NOW! PUMP IT! PUMP IT! WORK THOSE LEGS!"
She's after the first five for the 100-meter dash. I try not to heave and roll onto my back. I couldn't believe she chased us for three laps on the 400-meter. I guess when she said that none of her students would get more than a 10-minute time she meant it.
"Numbers six through ten get off your bottoms! Front and center! Now!"
This is the least I've ever heard her use the word "now." If I don't make it, maybe he will.
I gape at her pursuing 6-10. Imagine a bowl of pudding. Now imagine it jiggling as it bounces up and down on a conveyor belt behind five carrot sticks. Now put gym uniforms on the food and imagine them as people running down the track and you'll have Mrs. Ito chasing a third of our P.E. class.
The football team had fled when she got out the megaphone. I'd wondered why that was. Now I know but wish I didn't.
Something wet hits my nose. I hope it's not what I think it is. I crack open an eye and a raindrop falls in it. That's most certainly not what I thought it was.
What in the world…? Fifteen minutes ago it was a perfectly clear day out! Now it's about to storm? But I still have to run the 100-meter dash!
Thunder rumbles in the sky just as Mrs. Ito summons 11-15. The clouds are getting darker. Wasn't there a rule about having students out in impending thunderstorms?
I have a bad feeling about this. And it wasn't just that voice that tells you you're about to get wet. Something bad was going to happen.
All too soon Mrs. Ito calls into her megaphone.
"Sixteen!"
I peel myself off the ground and stagger away from the throng of my peers. All of who are in various stages of barfing or moaning until they collapse into lifeless heaps.
As I approach Mrs. Ito, it's almost like there's a fire in her eyes. I've never seen her like this before. Well, I heard that last semester she went berserk during that huge storm, but that was just a rumor.
"Miss Shin! How lucky you are! Getting to run through the storm all by yourself!" A lightning flash is reflected in her eye, followed quickly by thunder. She smiles wide. "Aha! Now here comes the show!"
Rain starts to fall by the bucketful. Our class shrieks. They actually find the energy to get up and dart beneath the stands.
So we have fifteen girls…
In a thunderstorm…
Taking shelter…
Below tall…
Metal…
Bleachers….
Nice.
Mrs. Ito still has that grin on her face as she follows my gaze.
"Oh don't worry! They'll be fine! You'll see! Now off to the starting line with you!"
Please don't get hit by lightning, is my only thought as I turn my back on them to walk to the starting line.
Thunder bangs just overhead. The girls scream. I keep walking.
I crouch at the starting line, sticking my hind end way up in the air.
"NOW!" Shouts Mrs. Ito through megaphone, rain and thunder.
I launch myself. I'm running before hit feet hit the ground. Mrs. Ito is right behind me, yelling through the megaphone, but I can't hear her. Each step is tricky. I have more hole than shoe, so I have to pick up my feet unless I want to trip on one. Somewhere along the line, a pebble falls into my shoe and stabs me with every step. The storm and my running legs give me such a huge case of de ja vu that it makes me dizzy. Or maybe that's just the lack of oxygen talking.
I'm running in my dreams, I'm running on the track. It's storming in my dreams, it's storming on me now. I had lots of rocks in my feet in my dreams; I have a rock in my foot now. Geez, the only thing that's missing is the—
I don't pick up my foot high enough and trip. I careen to my left, fall off the tack and land in the ditch beside it. Well, it would have been a ditch if it hadn't been filled with muddy water.
—face plants…I really could have done without those.
After swallowing two mouthfuls of the muck, I find myself being hauled out by the flabby—but surprisingly strong—arms of Mrs. Ito. She carries me up the three-foot hill and deposits me back on the track. I'm soaked through. When she lets go I slip right through her arms and sink to the ground. Mrs. Ito flops down beside me.
If I weren't so cold I'd be blushing up my own storm.
"Deary me! Miss Shin, are you alright?"
I nod my head meekly. Once again, I am covered in mud. But I think the rain is taking care of that.
"Great thunder above! When you slipped of the track I completely lost sight of you! When I saw that giant mother o' mud puddles down there—oh dear, deary me—I thought I'd lost you! You were all the way under you were!"
I look at her in awe. That was five sentences without even coming close to saying the word 'now,' she must be sick! She's dripping mud and still smiling! (There's even some mud on her teeth.)
"Lightning flash and thunder boom!" Mrs. Ito shouts joyfully. Each made itself known at the same time she said the words. It's almost scary, but then she shines that mud-stained smile on me like I'm the best thing in the world. It'd been so long since some one had shown it to me. I'll remember that beam for the rest of my life.
The grin still stretching her face, Mrs. Ito yells to me over the storm, "Toki, what an adventure! Why didn't you tell me you could be so much fun?" Now there's a different twinkle in her eye to accompany the loving smile. Together they create a façade that is almost unearthly in it's glorious splendor. I can't help but think it's not so much unlike the look mothers give their daughters.
She called me Toki.
Suddenly…
…I start to smile, too.
A/N: Awww! How cute! I couldn't help adding some fluff to make up for all the torture I've been putting my main character through. So that was for Satu! If anyone wants to look at more Toki's Satu material, they can go to my otaku site, where I post more regular updates and replies to all your reviews. The web address to copy into your browser is:
You'll need to take out all the spaces for it to work. Remember, I'm going to a wedding (Arrg no! I have to wear a flowery dress and read a Bible passage in front of lots of people!) So the next chapter might be late.
Ja ne!
Glossary
Hai- Yes
Sensei- Teacher
Maa-maa- Calm down
Baka- Idiot
Ja ne- Later
