Okay, so Day Three of having this story up. Still no reviews... why? I normally only post one chapter a week, but for some reason this is the third one in three days... I have no idea. Yeah, I realize most stories are like boom main characters meet, boom, romantic interest, and boom random love declaration for no apparent reason and then it's over. I'm trying really hard not to be like that. Example A : this is the third chapter, and I still have yet to so much as even mention the host club. Yeah, overly-slow going, but I'm surprised at how many words fill up what I'm trying to say this time because normally I can write what happens in the entire first four chapters of this story and have it be less than a thousand words rather than over four thousand, but whatever, I'm not complaining. I think the fact that I'm writing this story in first person and that I relate very closely to the character has something to do with that. I dunno. So, yeah. Back to what I was saying, I want at least one review before I introduce the Host Club. Also, let me know if there's anything specifically funny that you think should happen when she does. (But seriously, she's not going to break a vase. I refuse. There's already a good thousand or so fics like that.) So, on that note, I hope you guys like this chapter, I spent a couple freaking hours researching Japanese stuff for this story! And I still have a lot of research to go. I'll talk to you guys later. Enjoy!

(Edit : I'm just going along and fixing some grammatical mistakes, don't mind me! Please carry on and enjoy!)

Disclaimer : I do not own Coca-Cola.

Around eight o'clock or so we were called down for dinner. Ichiro, Yoshiko and I sat at the large dining table, clustered near the end. Ichiro and Yoshiko were eating something that I think was called chawanmushi, but I'm not sure. Despite living in various parts of Japan for the last nine years or so, I still hadn't grown accustomed to their cuisine. There were a few that I liked, but even then I could never seem to learn their names correctly.

I was sitting across from them, my legs crossed kindergarten-style in the chair, eating an american microwave meal. They weren't as easy to come by in Japan as they were in America, but I still loved them none the less. My mom and I would have them a lot when I was little, and I got addicted. It didn't help that I found most of the japanese food scary-looking. Or that I didn't like fish. Every once in a while I'd try to convince them to try some western meals - how I missed chicken fried steak - but they normally weren't very open to it.

I still remember the time I tricked them into eating spicy jambalaya. They were wary of rice for a while after that. It was hilarious. I mean, yeah, I felt kinda bad about it, but they should really learn to be more open to new experiences on their own, that way I wouldn't be forced to make them live a little. I mean, we had sushi every day that week. And as I've mentioned multiple times before, I don't like fish.

Yeah, somehow that makes me weird.

But I'll pack away shrimp with the best of them.

Right now I was enjoying a very nice italian meal. Microwave lasagna, to be precise. I don't know how my mom survives eating here, we used to have italian food a few nights a week back in America. But then again, she's rather fond of fish.

Weird.

I wondered what she would be eating tonight. Maybe I'd ask her when I see her in the morning, if I get up early.

I took a sip of Coca-Cola, the room practically silent other than the sound of eating. I wince at a particularly loud and messy-sounding slurp from Yoshiko. I don't care if it's considered good manners here or not, I agree with the westerners; it's just simply an unpleasant sound.

I don't really see much of my mom anymore, and I never really saw much of Yutaka in the first place. Or… how was I supposed to refer to him? I forget. I don't know how, but in the estimated nine years or so that I've lived in Japan, I've learned little to nothing, compared to everything I managed to absorb in my seven years in America. Maybe I just liked America better. It was certainly less confusing.

Finished with my food, I get up and throw my trash away in the kitchen, taking the rest of my soda. Yeah, I'm pretty much sure this is considered rude in any country. Whatever, I really didn't feel like sitting there bored listening to cringe-worthy slurping and silence. Besides, I was pretty sure they didn't take offense. I do that every night, they should be used to it by now.

Hours later I was in bed on my laptop. Big surprize, huh? I had started to get bored with my books a few months ago. Bookshelves took up two of the four walls in my bedroom, all stuffed to the brim with various hardbacks, paperbacks, novels and novellas. I go through books rather quickly, so around the fifth time I read a book it starts to loose its charm. That's the point where it will stay on the shelf untouched, until I randomly think of a small part of the story, and decide to read it again.

But recently I had taken to reading online fanfiction. It was free to read, faster, and there was a much wider variety available at any given time. However, a downside to this was that I couldn't just take it to read wherever I wanted, seeing as I didn't have an actual physical copy in my hand.

I also read online versions of actual books. If I really like one though, sometimes I would order it for my shelf. One of my problems with that was books in series. If I got a third book in the mail, I'd have to go back and read the first and second ones to have the plot fresh in my mind. So by the ninth book, I'd have the first one nearly memorized.

Every once in a while - if I stayed up reading far too long - my eyes would start to sting; like now for example. I closed my eyes, rubbing them for a moment before removing my hands and looking at the clock on my nightstand.

3:49 AM

Yeah, I should probably go to sleep now.

But maybe I should check my email one last time before going to bed.

Yeah right, that's what you said you would do an hour ago.

Well, at least I'm not denying it.

You're arguing with yourself again, aren't you?

Man, I need some sleep.

I power down my laptop, putting it back in its hiding spot in a secret compartment in the bottom of my desk before walking back to my bed. I lie down and put my head on my pillow, pulling my blankets around me. I stretch my legs, feeling my feet press against the headboard, doing the same with my arms, which met air. I never liked footboards. Really, what was the point? I always hit my head.

Getting into a comfortable position, I did the last thing on my nightly routine. Remembering to get out of bed and turn on the radio, then go back to bed and lie back down. I don't know why I forgot every night, considering I always slept with music playing. But, whatever. I hugged the pillow under my head and turned on my side, burrowing my face into the soft fabric. Slowly, ever so slowly, I fell asleep.