It's really hard to write fanfiction when you continuously cycle through depression and glee and depression and glee and depression. You try to write something funny, and all of a sudden you stop and go "Jesus, how did this get so depressing?"
Or vice versa.
Anyway.
You had words with him
And your future's looking dim
--"It's All in the Game", composed by Charles Dawes and written by Carl Sigman
===
"If I remember...you're at Tokyo U now, right?"
Keitaro looked up at his aunt's face. The punches he had received were still making his head ring, and he felt lightheaded and confused. His brain seemed to be crawling through something thick. What was she saying...?
Keitaro could have stood there another moment with his mouth hanging open, the gears in his mind turning, working to process information.
He blinked.
"No...I'm not." he mumbled audibly and sheepishly, lowering his head and pulling uncomfortably at the handle of his bookbag. "I've failed the test." A pause "Twice."
The girl with the long, brown hair--what was her name? Keitaro watched her out of the corner of his eye as she nodded wisely. "See? A pervert and a ronin. You can't honestly expect someone like him to stay here!"
Nods and murmurs of agreement filled the small room.
Keitaro looked back up at his aunt's face. She smiled at him sadly--glared at him? Keitaro blinked his eyelids shut, then look again. No, there was only a half-sad smile on her face. "I'm sure we could come to some sort of agreement, couldn't we? Perhaps you could study in the..." She trailed off as she watched Keitaro rise from where he had been sitting on the couch, shaking his head.
He'd almost barked out an eager "yes-thank-you" at Haruka's offer, but as he'd looked around at the other, legitimate tenants, and their faces filled with disgust and loathing...
He'd bitten the tip of his tongue before it could betray him. "No...it..." Why was everything going so wrong? "...I really don't think a...here..." He swallowed nervously. "I really don't think this would be the best place for me to stay." He affixed upon his face a smile that he hoped seemed genuine. "I'll just let myself out, alright?"
He didn't wait for an answer.
It was only when he had shut the first door behind him that he realized that he still had no money and no place to live. He paused, mid-step, an expression of horror playing across his face. "...Oh." The sky was a clear blue, the few clouds he could see low near the horizon. "Oh." he said again, as if repeating the word would allow him to repeat and redo his actions.
He considered for a moment going back inside and asking his aunt for money, but shook off the idea. "It would just be..." The word "wrong" rose in his mind, but it didn't fit, somehow. It wasn't until he reached the bottom of the steps leading to the Hinata House that he was able to think of a replacement.
"...awkward."
He sighed. Now what? Now what? Now what? His stared at nothing as his feet took him back to the train station he hadn't any money to ride on.
It didn't matter, anyway. Even as he realized he was being pulled yet again into a spiral of depression, he followed the familiar diatribe. It didn't matter. He wasn't going to find a place to stay. He was going to starve to death on the streets (here he ignored the fact that his aunt would forcibly take him in if it got that bad), and they'd find his body, but they'd only find his body because there'd be complaining of the stench it was making, and after they found his body they would shake their heads and say something about how sad it was--
Speech tugged at the edges of his ears as he stared straight ahead across the dusty street.
How sad it was--they'd say--that he died so young, since he had promise, didn't he? And they'd one of them would say (a short red-haired pipsqueak of a police officer, twirling his cap in his hands) that it was alright, he wasn't contributing anything anyway, was he? It was just a ronin--
Something was making a sound. The sky was so bright, and the temperature suddenly seemed to increase steadily until he could feel the sweat forming on his brow.
Just a ronin, anyway, right? "Ah, yes, that's true," the older, white-haired officer would say, nodding his little nod, and then they would turn and walk back into the station--
"Excuse me."
Hands tucked into trenchcoats, ready to take on the next case--
"Excuse me?"
The next mysterious murder would surely be more exciting than something small like--
"Excuse me!"
Keitaro's eyes rapidly readjusted, losing their glazed appearance and focusing on the object that was in front of them. His thoughts still of dead ronins and investigations, he blinked and saw--
"Sir, are you alright?"
Keitaro tensed and took a quick step backwards. "What?"
"Are you okay?" asked the girl. She was gesturing at his face with a small fan held in her left hand.
"You looked like you zoned out there."
He felt his face flush red. "Er...yeah. I'm alright. Thanks."
There was an uneasy silence.
Thie girl gestured with the fan again, this time past Keitaro's head, behind him. "Er, you're blocking the door..." she pointed out quietly.
Keitaro turned around. Now that he realized where he was, he could see that he was, in fact, standing in the doorway of one of the buildings in the village. It was a wooden, average-looking structure, easily lost among the others on the road--but this wasn't the time to think of alike things. Red-faced, Keitaro moved out of the girl's way, to the side of the doorway, mumbling apologies as she disappeared into it.
"Great going, Keitaro..." The ronin moaned to himself. "Could this day get any worse? You've got no money, grandmother isn't here, and all those misunderstandings with those girls..." His shoulders slumped. "How was I supposed to know...and now I'm broke and homeless. What now?"
And so, seeing no other option, Keitaro sighed, pulled the strap of his bookbag securely to the base of his neck, and began to totter off aimlessly.
Or vice versa.
Anyway.
You had words with him
And your future's looking dim
--"It's All in the Game", composed by Charles Dawes and written by Carl Sigman
===
"If I remember...you're at Tokyo U now, right?"
Keitaro looked up at his aunt's face. The punches he had received were still making his head ring, and he felt lightheaded and confused. His brain seemed to be crawling through something thick. What was she saying...?
Keitaro could have stood there another moment with his mouth hanging open, the gears in his mind turning, working to process information.
He blinked.
"No...I'm not." he mumbled audibly and sheepishly, lowering his head and pulling uncomfortably at the handle of his bookbag. "I've failed the test." A pause "Twice."
The girl with the long, brown hair--what was her name? Keitaro watched her out of the corner of his eye as she nodded wisely. "See? A pervert and a ronin. You can't honestly expect someone like him to stay here!"
Nods and murmurs of agreement filled the small room.
Keitaro looked back up at his aunt's face. She smiled at him sadly--glared at him? Keitaro blinked his eyelids shut, then look again. No, there was only a half-sad smile on her face. "I'm sure we could come to some sort of agreement, couldn't we? Perhaps you could study in the..." She trailed off as she watched Keitaro rise from where he had been sitting on the couch, shaking his head.
He'd almost barked out an eager "yes-thank-you" at Haruka's offer, but as he'd looked around at the other, legitimate tenants, and their faces filled with disgust and loathing...
He'd bitten the tip of his tongue before it could betray him. "No...it..." Why was everything going so wrong? "...I really don't think a...here..." He swallowed nervously. "I really don't think this would be the best place for me to stay." He affixed upon his face a smile that he hoped seemed genuine. "I'll just let myself out, alright?"
He didn't wait for an answer.
It was only when he had shut the first door behind him that he realized that he still had no money and no place to live. He paused, mid-step, an expression of horror playing across his face. "...Oh." The sky was a clear blue, the few clouds he could see low near the horizon. "Oh." he said again, as if repeating the word would allow him to repeat and redo his actions.
He considered for a moment going back inside and asking his aunt for money, but shook off the idea. "It would just be..." The word "wrong" rose in his mind, but it didn't fit, somehow. It wasn't until he reached the bottom of the steps leading to the Hinata House that he was able to think of a replacement.
"...awkward."
He sighed. Now what? Now what? Now what? His stared at nothing as his feet took him back to the train station he hadn't any money to ride on.
It didn't matter, anyway. Even as he realized he was being pulled yet again into a spiral of depression, he followed the familiar diatribe. It didn't matter. He wasn't going to find a place to stay. He was going to starve to death on the streets (here he ignored the fact that his aunt would forcibly take him in if it got that bad), and they'd find his body, but they'd only find his body because there'd be complaining of the stench it was making, and after they found his body they would shake their heads and say something about how sad it was--
Speech tugged at the edges of his ears as he stared straight ahead across the dusty street.
How sad it was--they'd say--that he died so young, since he had promise, didn't he? And they'd one of them would say (a short red-haired pipsqueak of a police officer, twirling his cap in his hands) that it was alright, he wasn't contributing anything anyway, was he? It was just a ronin--
Something was making a sound. The sky was so bright, and the temperature suddenly seemed to increase steadily until he could feel the sweat forming on his brow.
Just a ronin, anyway, right? "Ah, yes, that's true," the older, white-haired officer would say, nodding his little nod, and then they would turn and walk back into the station--
"Excuse me."
Hands tucked into trenchcoats, ready to take on the next case--
"Excuse me?"
The next mysterious murder would surely be more exciting than something small like--
"Excuse me!"
Keitaro's eyes rapidly readjusted, losing their glazed appearance and focusing on the object that was in front of them. His thoughts still of dead ronins and investigations, he blinked and saw--
"Sir, are you alright?"
Keitaro tensed and took a quick step backwards. "What?"
"Are you okay?" asked the girl. She was gesturing at his face with a small fan held in her left hand.
"You looked like you zoned out there."
He felt his face flush red. "Er...yeah. I'm alright. Thanks."
There was an uneasy silence.
Thie girl gestured with the fan again, this time past Keitaro's head, behind him. "Er, you're blocking the door..." she pointed out quietly.
Keitaro turned around. Now that he realized where he was, he could see that he was, in fact, standing in the doorway of one of the buildings in the village. It was a wooden, average-looking structure, easily lost among the others on the road--but this wasn't the time to think of alike things. Red-faced, Keitaro moved out of the girl's way, to the side of the doorway, mumbling apologies as she disappeared into it.
"Great going, Keitaro..." The ronin moaned to himself. "Could this day get any worse? You've got no money, grandmother isn't here, and all those misunderstandings with those girls..." His shoulders slumped. "How was I supposed to know...and now I'm broke and homeless. What now?"
And so, seeing no other option, Keitaro sighed, pulled the strap of his bookbag securely to the base of his neck, and began to totter off aimlessly.