Watamote: Secrets
The first day of Tomoko Kuroki's life in Makuhari Shuuei High School were hell. Then it got worse.
It wasn't bad enough that she couldn't bring herself to even look at a boy, let alone talk to one, but they didn't seem to be falling all over themselves to talk to her. Completely unlike her otome games, where she was the most popular girl in school, or anywhere else, for that matter. She was finding out that virtual reality wasn't the same as real reality.
When her eraser had fallen on the floor, and one of her male classmates had been kind enough to pick it up for her, she'd barely had the nerve to take it from him. She was absolutely positively certain that all the other students were laughing at her behind her back.
So she was glad when noon recess came and she could go be by herself for a time, just recharge her emotional batteries. She was at the lockers when she heard somebody say, "Hey, it's that weird girl."
"Yeah," said another boy's voice, the snicker in it evident, "A looker she ain't."
She could never tell later on if she'd been pushed or just tripped and fallen, but either way, she found herself on the floor, with the boys standing over her, laughing so hard…
"You guys," said an unfamiliar voice, "are jerks." A locker slammed shut to reveal a brown haired boy with occidental features. He confronted the bullies. "How would you like it if that was your little sister? Huh? And some thugs were harassing her? Hm? How would you feel? Well, guess what? You are the thugs. Proud of yourselves? Picking on a little girl?" Everybody in the hallway stopped, entranced by the drama playing itself out.
Like the bullies that they were, they backed off. "Hey, who asked—*" But the brown haired boy gave him a look that shut him off.
"Go on. Finish that sentence. See what happens."
The bullies backed further off. They had the strange boy outnumbered, but that didn't stop them from being intimidated. Something about him…
"We, We were just havin' fun..."
"That your idea of fun? What do you do in your spare time? Pull the wings off flies? And I'm not the one you should apologize to." He nodded with his head towards Tomoko, still sitting on the floor.
"We're sorry," said the ringleader, to Tomoko. "It...never mind." And they turned and left.
"Good riddance," muttered the strange boy. He walked over and offered his hand to Tomoko. "Need a hand up? You're not hurt, are you?"
"N-no, I, I'm fine." She took his hand and levered herself up. "Th-thank you." She couldn't look at him.
"Don't mention it," he said. "Guys like that give me a physical pain. I'm, uh, Daniel, by the way. Daniel BenDarian."
"T-Tomoko. Tomoko Kuroki"
"Glad to meet you. Wish the circumstances could've been better, but you know. I—*" At that exact moment, the bell rang. "Whoops. Class time. Well, uh, see ya."
"Right. Uh, see ya." And she practically ran to her next class, as though it were a refuge. Which, in a way, it was.
The next day: rain was in the forecast, so she made sure to bring her umbrella. Then, when classes were over, and school was dismissed for the day, she found it missing from the rack where she'd put it. What th—*? she thought. Somebody stole my umbrella? What kind of lowlife…
Well, there was no help for it, so she went and sat by the front doors, waiting for the rain to slack. Such was the downpour, that, had she been of a mind, she could have stripped naked and taken a shower in it.
"Tomoko?" said a voice on her other side. "Something wrong?" It was the strange boy, Daniel—she guessed he was an American, from his accent—came up to her from the darkened hallway. "You okay?"
"Y-yeah," she managed. "Just...lost my umbrella, is all."
"Oh. Well, you mind if I sit here with you? Don't worry; I'll keep my distance." And he sat down about six feet away from her, his back against the wall, like hers.
"You-you don't have to do that. I, I'll be fine."
"Yeah, but…" he seemed to hesitate, "I just don't want you to be alone, is all. Sorry if that insults you."
"It, it's okay. Th-thank you. And thank you again for the other day." You stood up for me. Nobody's ever stood up for me before. Not in real life.
"You're welcome." Silence.
"So," she said, uncomfortable with the silence, "you, you're from America?"
"Yeah," he said. "Little town called Twin Forks, Colorado. You need a microscope to find it on a map. A strong microscope."
She giggled, in spite of herself. "Must be really small."
"Oh, it is. We have, like, one stop sign. My...relatives…" she could hear the hesitation in his voice, "...thought it would be a good idea if I got out of the place, saw something of the world. You know."
"Your parents?"
"My parents are dead."
"What!? Oh, I'm, I'm sorry…!"
"It's okay. I'm...okay with it. Don't like it, but I'm okay with it. As okay as I'm likely to get, anyway"
"Uhm, how did they, they—*" For some reason, she was thinking, traffic accident.
"They were murdered," he said shortly. "Uhm, could we talk about something else?"
"Uh, y-yeah." She'd really put her foot in it, big time.
Silence for a moment. "Sure is coming down out there," he remarked.
"Yeah."
"Getting late, too." Suddenly, he stood up. "Wanna see a magic trick?"
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"Just stand up." He offered her his hands. "Now. Rub your hands all over your clothes. Briskly." And he showed her how, rubbing his hands over his own garments.
"This is a magic trick?"
"You'll see. Now." He held out his hand. "On the count of three, grab my hand, quickly. Don't let a spark jump between us, and don't let go. Otherwise, you'll equalize the charges. Okay, one, two, three." And she grabbed his hand. "There. No spark. That should do it."
"What's this all about?"
"I'll show you. Come on, now. Follow me." And he led her towards the doors.
"Wait! We'll get soaked!"
"No, we won't. You'll see. Just trust me, okay?" And he led her out into the rain.
She held up her other hand, to keep the water out of her face as best she could...and realized the rain wasn't touching her. She could see the raindrops falling around her, not touching her skin or her clothes. "How…?"
"Static electricity. Repels water molecules. So as long as the charge holds out, we're good. Just don't let go of my hand. It takes both of us." He led her down the sidewalk. "Do you live far from here?"
"It's...I usually take the bus."
"Maybe I know a shortcut. What's your address?" She told him. "Yeah, I know a shortcut. Just come with me."
It was really rather odd. It was usually a good bus ride to her house, but he led her down one alleyway, past another, and down a street she'd never heard of...and there was her house.
He saw her up to the door. "I'll wait 'till you get inside to let go. That sometimes negates the charges." They went up to the door, and she unlocked it, going inside. He didn't let go of her hand until she was fully inside. "There you go. Now. One, two, three." And he let go of her hand.
She rapidly moved indoors, to be out of the range of the downpour. But it still didn't seem to touch him. Is he expecting me to invite him in? What do I do if he is? "Huh," he said. "Guess I must have more charge than I thought," he mused. "Well," he turned to go, "See ya around." And he moved off down the sidewalk.
She watched him go from the window. It was odd, how the rain just fell around him. That must be some charge, she thought. It occurred to her: This was the first time a boy had walked her home, and holding her hand, to boot. For that matter, it was the first time she'd ever held hands with a boy, period. Uwa~ (Wow), she thought to herself, I bet he was having such lewd thoughts there, walking me home in the rain.
I know I was.
…
Okay, a little research was called for. How to be popular, she typed into Google. Then she had to amend that to for girls.
First option: Have sex with lots of guys. Well, no.
Second option: Have sex with lots of girls. Er, see above.
How did this stuff get on the internet? Oh, what am I saying. It's the internet.
Third option: Join a social club. Hm. Now that one sounded promising. But which one? She pulled up her school's webpage to check out the listings.
The athletics club was right out. Tomoko was acutely aware that she was in pitiful physical condition. All that time in front of a computer monitor hadn't given her the best bod in the world. What about literature?
But once again, she wondered. Aside from her computer, and her otome games, she wasn't really all that well read. That might not be a good idea, especially for someone trying to avoid acute embarrassment. But it was an option.
What about the Art Club? Well, she could draw. She had a stylus and had frequently made use of it, drawing pictures on her tablet's screen. But she had a hunch it meant a bit more than that. But that still sounded like a good idea. Okay. What next?
There were various social clubs, but none seemed like a good fit. The Art Club seemed like the best bet. Maybe the Literature Club, if she could get up the nerve to try it. Of course, that was the problem, wasn't it?
…
Next day: the Art Club: "Good to have you with us, Tomoko-chan. Let's all of us make Tomoko feel welcome here, okay?" said the club president, Aiko. Tomoko didn't know her last name, and, frankly, didn't care. She was too busy trying to be invisible. "Okay, today, we're discussing Da Vinci's The Last Supper, and its impact on western culture. Now, a while back, an author named Dan Brown published a book called The Da Vinci Code, a work of fiction, in which he postulated the notion that 'Jesus' and 'Mary Magdalene' were married and had children, producing a kind of 'holy bloodline.' It caused quite a stir in America and England, not to mention the Christianized portions of Europe. Many people couldn't handle the notion that this 'Jesus', who, in their religion, was supposed to be the literal son of God, and therefore sinless, had actually had sex, even though, according to their own scriptures, sex within the bounds of marriage was not a sin." She pulled up an image of the painting, casting it onto the smartscreen in the room. "He based most of his evidence, in the book, on this painting, which shows a rather effeminate-looking character leaning on Jesus's right side." She moved the cursor over the central figure, then over to the one immediately adjacent. "He claimed this was proof—or at least strong indication—that this was Mary Magdalene, and that she was included in the painting because she was Jesus's wife. So tell me. What are your thoughts on the matter? From a cultural standpoint, of course," she said, addressing the group. "We'll get into the actual painting once we've completed these studies."
One girl raised her hand. "Excuse me, Madam President, but I'm confused. Wasn't this supposed to be a painting? Painted long after the life of this 'Jesus'?"
"Quite correct."
"Then...what was the point of all the unrest? A painting can show anything. Like...like a video game. One of those otome games you hear about. It's not real." Nobody noticed Tomoko twitch.
"True, but this indicates the influence Leonardo da Vinci had on western culture. Many regarded him as an inspired genius, which, in a way, he was. It also indicates—while this has little bearing on his art, it's worth mentioning—how many people regard art in general. Many people, not only Europeans, tend to think of fiction in the same light as fact. This holds true, not only for books, sculptures, and paintings, but also for other forms of art, such as, say, television shows. Some people believe, strangely enough, that their favorite TV shows or movies are actually real, depicting real-life events. I'm reminded of a number of occasions where this is true. But what interests us the most, what I wish to bring up here, aside from the impact of art on culture, is the style of painting at that point in time. It wasn't uncommon for Renaissance artists to depict primary male characters in exaggeratedly effeminate ways, in order to signify their importance in the work. This is especially interesting in light of the low regard to which women themselves were held in those days. Some speculate this was actually a means of either consciously or unconsciously elevating the importance of women, in a time when women were not considered very important.
"Another example of this…" On and on she droned. Tomoko had a hard time keeping from yawning. "Nor was this phenomenon completely limited to western artists…." More droning. More effort to stay awake.
Perhaps the Art Club wasn't the right choice.
….
Elsewhere: Tomoko didn't know it, but she was being watched, and not by anyone in the room. Nor by anyone human.
The city was called Dzyan. It was, like all the buildings here, surrounded by what would seem to be fire. Within an enormous central building, many of the inhabitants of this place had gathered, each of them preparing his or her report.
Had any human been able to see it, the room would have seemed to be an enormous vaulted cathedral, with gold and silver arches high overhead. The windows, all stained-glass, refracted the light from the fierce fires that were the norm here in this domain. Lined along the walls were alcoves lit by sconces, each of which burned with a fire that produced light and heat but no smoke. Within each alcove was a tripedal stand holding a crystal sphere.
Standing before one was the boy known on Earth as "Daniel BenDarian." He'd recently returned here, to the universe known to most humans as "Hell," and was reviewing his week. He really hadn't had any intention of spying on Tomoko in particular; she was simply part of that week that he was being called to report on.
"Rather cute, I'll grant you," said an unwelcome voice just behind him. His "cousin," Dante, had come up behind him unawares.
Rules of common courtesy required him to be civil, and so he nodded, without replying verbally. He and Dante hadn't hit it off very well, at first, and were...still working on their relationship.
When he'd first arrived here, in Hell, Dante, who'd just finished serving his time for the serious charges levied against him, had made an off-the-cuff remark about Daniel's adoptive parents as being "only human." The resulting fight had earned them both some stern disciplinary measures, straight from the Black Throne itself, and no brownie points from each other. Still, Daniel had to admit, Dante was at least trying to improve relations, or seemed to be. He guessed he could do the same. "She's part of my weekly report," he replied, curtly, without turning around. Not that it's any of your business, junkie.
Thief.
Dante was silent for a moment, both verbally and psychically. Then, "Pretty strong K-sub one lines around that one." He nodded towards the crystal sphere showing Tomoko. As demons, shadonai, such lines were easily visible to them.
"Yes." And?
"You know the problem with mortals?"
"I know of a few. Which one did you have in mind?"
"They tend to die on you."
"I'm acutely aware of that," grated Daniel. Something about Dante just always grated on his nerves.
"That's right, you are, aren't you? Well, just saying."
Like anybody asked you. "Yes," he said, as civilly as he could, "as I said, I'm aware of that."
Another pause. Then, "Those lines...you know what those mean, right?"
"I've heard, yes."
"You ready for that?"
"Of course not," Daniel snapped, in spite of himself. "No demon is. You know that." You, of all of us. He tried to adopt a nonchalant attitude. "She doesn't mean anything to me."
"Uh huh. That's why you're watching her." Daniel could swear he heard a grin in Dante's mental "voice."
"She means," Daniel repeated, calming himself, "nothing to me."
"Right. Well, it's about time for my shift." Daniel had to forcibly restrain himself from remarking just what "job" Dante had to attend to. He was currently serving a probationary period, and his job—punishment, really—wasn't one most demons would envy. "See you around."
Not if I see you first. But, again, he restrained himself. Courtesy must be maintained. "Sure. Bye." Take the fucking hint.
Asshole.
He hadn't looked around the whole time, but he felt Dante's presence fading from his vicinity.
He turned his attention back to the sphere, which showed Tomoko preparing for her bath. It wouldn't be proper courtesy to continue watching her like that (however much he might like to), so he switched to another part of his week, preparing for his report.
Those K-sub one lines, though…
He guessed it wouldn't kill him to just keep an eye on her.
At least, not if he was careful.
…
To be continued…