BlackWaltz's One-stop Oneshot Shop (New: 30th Apr 2014)

[BlackWaltzTheThird]

Nine Hundred and Ninety-Nine

We played many games of Risk, you and I.

You won most of them. Most of the time it was less about who won or lost, and more about how badly you beat me. There was the odd time here and there that I would come from behind to snuff out your army, and I never let you forget it. You always made that pouty face with your arms crossed, and even though you were angrily debating the outcome, I could only smile and laugh.

I’ll never forget the day I heard your laugh. You always kept yourself so composed – so controlled – that when you did finally let go, you choked. I know you were embarrassed, but it was the most beautiful sound I ever heard. I’d give anything to hear that laugh once again.

You always worked yourself ragged, giving your all on even the most inconsequential things. “Once more, with feeling,” you would say, until you were satisfied that things had been done to their fullest. It was often the case that I would come home to find you asleep in front of a pile of documents or an open laptop; screen filled with whatever character your face had happened to land on.

Then there were the bets. Who would wash the dishes. Who would pay for dinner. Who would talk to your dad. Always decided by a flick of the wrist, best two out of three. You had a tendency to lead with Rock. I never told you that was how I suddenly started winning; something that you equally respected and detested.

But we always came back to those games of Risk. Once a month, because less often wasn't enough while more often made it less special. I wonder whether you ever kept track of those games. I know I did. Do you know how many we played? Nine hundred and ninety-nine.

I wish we could have played just one more game. I’d have even let you have Australia. But don’t worry, dear Shizune. I’ll be with you soon. And we can play Risk to our hearts content.

Once more. With feeling.



Here's to another 1000 threads, KSG. For peace, love, and a place for all of us to stay.

[BlackWaltzTheThird]

Hurt

I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel.
After I heard what had happened, everything seemed to go numb.
The pain is the only thing that feels real now.

There was a chance you weren’t repulsed by me.
I know I ran away, but I wanted to stay.
I wanted to give you a chance.
And now that chance is gone.

If I could have had the nerve to stick to my guns, things might have been different.
I keep trying to forget how badly I screwed up that conversation.
It hurts too much.
But I remember everything.



I have many friends at this school.
Many acquaintances.
But I only have one true friend.
My sweetest friend.

That’s not something that changes often.
I thought you could change that.
You could be a part of our little family.
It’s not much, but you could have had it all.

And yet, it wasn’t to be.
I thought I had done something wrong.
I’d considered myself an approachable, hospitable person, but it seems I am mistaken.
What have I become, to have failed at the very thing a Class Representative is here to do?

I am sorry I failed you.



I’m full of broken thoughts.
I always have been.
It’s like there’s a gap between what I think and the idea behind it.
Then I met you.

I didn’t see you very much, but when I did, it felt like you could repair that gap.
Things made more sense.
The crown of thorns that prickled into my conscience was lifted.

I thought so, anyway.
You still seemed to be lost whenever I talked.
I could have gotten you to understand me, and we’d be friends.

Or maybe we both would have ended up on the roof that night.
Who knows?



I lost someone once.
It was a long time ago.
I’ve been closing myself off ever since.

When I run, that feeling disappears.
I can be free again.
I don’t know what you were like before you came here, but I thought we could run together.
Be free of our past together.
Maybe even open our hearts together.

But you never came back.
I never sought you out, because I told myself you would be there tomorrow.
You were just taking a rest day.
I should have gone looking for you.

Now you’re somewhere else, and I’m still right here.



Everyone I know goes away, in the end.
All this time, I’ve struggled to understand why.
I’m not the easiest person to get to know, for obvious reasons.
It’s not like I don’t put in the effort to overcome that, though.

Am I trying too hard?
Is it possible to pursue friendship too aggressively?
Logic dictates that success at any task can come down to the same fundamental steps.

Perhaps friendship isn’t bound by logic.
Maybe I can’t apply the same strategies I use to win games to winning people’s hearts.

I let you down, Hisao. I drove you away.



If I could start again, I would find a way.
A way to change things…
A way to make everyone happy…
A way that doesn’t end like this.

Did you know that you caught her eye the second you walked into class?
I was more than a little jealous, I’ll admit, but I wanted her to be happy.
I did what I could to sway you into joining us.
No matter what I tried, though, nothing seemed to appeal to you.

Was it my fault?
Was I in the way?

If I could start again, I would keep to myself.


Hurt is a song written by Trent Reznor, and covered by Johnny Cash.

[Brogurt]

Are any of these Hanako

Because it doesn't look like it

[ProfAllister]

The tricky one for me to catch was Lilly.

The girls are as follows:

Stanza 1 - Any/All
Stanza 2-3 - Hanako
Stanza 4-6 - Lilly
Stanza 7-10 - Rin
Stanza 11-13 - Emi
Stanza 14-17 - Shizune
Stanza 18-20 - Misha

Still trying to digest what my thoughts on this are. Certainly a (semi-)novel approach to try poetry fanfic. A lil' slavish for songfic, but I think it works...

[Brogurt]

I just assumed that the first stanza was about how it hurts to close yourself off from the katawas and fall off a roof

Yeah I guess it could be Hanako

[BlackWaltzTheThird]

So, this looks like poetry, you say? Or a song, even? Huh. That's weird. Even the use of the word, "stanza", is weirding me out.

It's actually a set of six drabbles. The formatting changed somewhat upon transferal from MS Word to here, mostly because it looked like balls here, but I'd thought I'd made the paragraph groupings pretty clear. At least the identity of each section got across well enough. The Prof was correct in his deductions, and while the first stanza, as he put it, could apply to anyone, I intended it to be a part of Hanako's group.

I'm considering making the formatting more clear, but in seeing how the lack thereof has resulted in a different reaction, perhaps I should leave it. The ambiguity allows for a more varied set of interpretations. Yeah, I think I'll leave it. For now, at least. Thanks for reading, guys.

[BlackWaltzTheThird]

The Purest Form of Love - Chapter 1: Friends
First | Next

[Hanako]

I knew this was a bad idea.

The hot sun bears down on me mercilessly, even in the shade of Lilly’s parasol, stuck on a slight angle in the sand between us. The heat is unbearable, and makes me sweat profusely on one side and swelter without relief on the other. Still, I refuse to remove the long-sleeved summer dress that covers most of my body.

They would see my scars. The form-fitting, dark purple, one-piece swimsuit underneath it does cover a fair amount of the affected area, but my exposed arm, neck and leg is too much to handle. People will stare. If not my fellow Yamaku students, then the other beachgoers will.

Why did I come on this stupid excursion? It’s not even related to any classes. 'Inter-class bonding', they called it. Yeah, as if anyone wants to 'bond' with the burned girl. I should have just stayed in my room and refused to leave. They’d have had to pry me out by my cold, dead fingertips.

I look over my shoulder towards Lilly, sleeping peacefully on a towel beside me. Of course, she can be much more daring with her choice of swimwear. Her black bikini set leaves very little to the imagination, even with the translucent dress thingy flowing from the top. I wonder what those are called? Apparently, Akira got it for her on a business trip. I'll have to ask her about it some time.

But oh, what I wouldn’t give to be able to look like that. Lilly draws attention like a magnet, and though I do as well, it’s not for the same reason. People look at Lilly and think she’s beautiful. Amazonian, even. They develop crushes on her. I know that Lilly has been the recipient of many a confession, both at Yamaku and elsewhere. How many confessions have I had? Zero, that’s how many.

The sound of someone approaching catches my attention. I open my eyes – which I hadn’t realised I had scrunched shut – and look over to the intruders. Ibarazaki and Tezuka appear to have come bounding out of a stint in the water and have taken up residence in the sand on my other side. It seems that it’s sandcastle-building time.

Ibarazaki notices my staring, and though I try to look away, I’ve already been caught. Ibarazaki waves and shuffles closer to me.

“Heya! Aren’t you hot, in that dress? I’m sweating like a pig just like this!”

“Ye-… um, n-no. It’s f-fine.”

“You sure? You look pretty flushed.”

I pull my legs even closer into my curled sitting position and look down at the sand in front of my feet.

“It’s n-nothing. I’m fine, r-really.”

Ibarazaki rests her chin in her hand, looking thoughtfully up at the sky for a few seconds before replying.

“Well, if you say so. The water’s great though, if you change your mind.”

“I’ll k-keep that in mind. Th-thanks.”

Ibarazaki smiles and nods, before returning to her previous place and giving a hand to Tezuka, who is struggling to adequately fill a bucket with sand. With Ibarazaki now filling the bucket in her stead, Tezuka looks over to me.

“Are you afraid of getting sunburnt? It’s not even that bad. I usually don’t bother applying sunscreen and I turn out alright. Can you even get burned? Not like you already are, I mean. You can't get that kind of burn out here. I mean the sun kind of burn.”

Even before Ibarazaki realises the trajectory of Tezuka’s ramblings and stifles any further comments, my eyes go wide and I turn away. Forget about it, Hanako. Think happy thoughts.

Ice cream. Ice. Cold drinks. Tea. Scald. Burn. Scars. No, no, no!

Christmas. Snow. Winter. Summer. Sun. Sunburn. Scars. Damnit!

I feel the tears begin to well in my eyes. One rolls down my cheek, to my chin, and drips unnoticeably onto the sand. Several more make the same journey, before a hand comes to rest on my shoulder. I flinch at the contact.

“Hey, I’m really sorry about that. Rin can be… inconsiderate at times. Are you okay?”

“N-no.”

“Just forget about it. Rin didn’t mean any harm by it.”

“It still h-hurts.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not r-really.”

“C’mon… I’ll buy you an ice cream.”

Ibarazaki makes the offer in a sing-song voice, almost seductively. With the thought of a nice, cooling dessert paired with the puppy-dog expression on her face, I find it hard to turn her down.

“F-fine.”

“Great! C’mon, on your feet! There’s an ice cream bar just a short walk from here.”

With one last look at the sleeping Lilly, I stand and follow Ibarazaki. I notice her strides are quite long, possibly to make up for her short stature. In contrast, my own steps are short and rather frequent. Not frequent enough, though, as Ibarazaki beckons for me to pick up the pace.

Shortly afterward we arrive at the ice cream bar, and Ibarazaki buys an ice cream for each of the two of us. She takes a seat at a bench under the shade of a high curved wall, and motions for me to follow suit. I do, and we begin to enjoy our delicious frozen treats.

“So, you’ve got a complex about your scars.”

The directness with which she begins the conversation catches me off guard. I’m left unable to form a reply. After a few seconds, Ibarazaki continues speaking without a response.

“That’s not a big deal. I’ll bet damn near everyone here has a complex, to some extent. You think I like being short?”

To emphasise the point, she places her hand on her head and slides it across to me, where it meets my collarbone.

“See, sometimes shit happens. Sometimes it’s pretty bad, and it has a big effect on people. But you can’t let it define you, ya hear? I mean, look at me. You don’t hear people talking about 'Emi the double amputee', you hear about 'Emi the track star', right?”

“A-actually, I hear 'resident d-detention expert' p-pretty often.”

“Hey! Ah forget it; I guess I bring that on myself. But it just proves my point even more! You can’t just expect other people to decide who you are, you’ve gotta make ‘em see who you are for yourself. What’s something you like doing?”

I have no idea how to respond to that question. What do I like doing? I don’t usually do things outside of class. I delve deep into my subconscious to find something to say.

“Um… I like to c-cook, sometimes…”

“Really? Great! 'Ikezawa, the mighty Iron Chef of Yamaku Academy'! What else?”

“Well, I… no, n-never mind.”

“Aw, c'mon, you can tell me. Even if it’s something weird!”

“N-no! It’s not like th-that. Singing. I l-like to sing, t-too.”

“Singing, huh? Then how about 'Ikezawa, the Yamaku Pop Princess'? Or maybe you sing other stuff… I know! 'Ikezawa, the rough ‘n’ tough rockstar'! It totally suits you!”

I can’t help but giggle at the absurd nicknames. I would be lying if I said that I hated them. But I can’t help but find one major flaw in Ibarazaki’s logic.

“Y-yeah, but… you can’t even t-tell that you… that you… um… b-because your p-prosthetics…”

“Hmm? I don’t follow.”

“You can still w-walk just f-fine. I can’t not b-be… ugly.”

Ibarazaki does a double take, almost dropping her ice cream in the process. She stops swinging her legs under the seat, and she takes on a somewhat more serious face.

“Hey. Listen. You’re not ugly. Honestly, I think you’re really pretty. You’re tall, and you have really nice hair, and your eyes are all mysterious-like. And you’ve got a fair body on you too, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Even though my dress provides ample coverage, I still cover myself with my free hand out of habit. Is Ibarazaki… hitting on me? I feel a blush emerge on my cheeks. I look at my lap and continue eating my ice cream, but steal glances at Ibarazaki between mouthfuls. She wouldn’t be… would she? Nah, she’s just being nice.

The last bites of my ice cream disappear into my mouth, and for several seconds the only sounds are those of the other beachgoers. Ibarazaki breaks the silence.

“Hey, I wanna show you something. I don’t usually do this, so don’t get freaked out, okay?”

Wait, what? Is she going to do something weird? Is she… no, I already decided that she’s not that kind of person. I fear what I may see if I look over to her, but I look anyway, and find her bent forward and removing her prosthetic legs and the protective socks underneath. I gasp at what I see.

The flesh at the base of what remains of Ibarazaki’s legs is all warped and scarred. Oddly shaped curves of flesh crash awkwardly into each other, the seams marked by thick whitish scars in various directions, forming something resembling the bastard child of an “H” shape and a star.

The other leg is more or less the same, though somewhat less misshapen. Nevertheless, it’s still a grotesque sight to behold. I instinctively run my left hand over my right, feeling my own scars there. Satisfied that she’s shown enough, Ibarazaki replaces her prosthetics as they were.

“Pretty whack, huh? You’re not the only one with scars, you know. I know mine aren’t as… widespread as yours, but they’re still there. And I’m okay with that, because that’s a part of who I am now. It’s no use being ashamed of who you are. Ya with me?”

“Y-yeah… I think so…”

“Great! Now, there’s no good way for me to say this, so how about you get that stifling dress off and come back to the beach with me? The 'rough ‘n’ tough iron chef princess' looks like she could use a swim.”

In spite of Ibarazaki’s suggestive wording, I giggle and a smile comes to my face.

“S-sure, I’d like that.”

By the time we return to our previous place, my nerves begin to falter. Here I stand, dress folded over my arm, in full view of over a hundred people. Exposed. My breath catches in my throat, and I start to try and cover my scars with my arms, but it proves ineffective. I consider backing out of going in the water, but I find a courage within myself, dump my dress on my towel and stride towards the shoreline where Ibarazaki awaits.

The sheer cold of the water comes as a shock, in contrast to the burning heat of the sun and, consequently, the sand. Again, I almost chicken out, but Ibarazaki's beckoning spurs me further out. She leads me over to a group of boys throwing a ball around, about waist-deep in the water. I'm not familiar with them; they mustn't go to Yamaku. Nevertheless, they allow us to join in their game.

The ball starts off going mainly between the boys, though as time goes on, Ibarazaki and I are on the recieving end of increasingly more frequent throws. Several minutes in, I fumble one particularly short throw that skims off the water in front of me, and the ball ends up several metres out to sea. I cautiously half-walk-half-swim over to it, and make to throw it back, but a wave catches me off guard and I lose my footing. For a second, my entire body is underwater, tumbling with the motion of the wave passing over me. I begin to panic, and flail desperately to get back to the surface. Out of nowhere, a strong hand catches my arm, and pulls me up.

Wiping the water out of my face, I find myself looking eye to eye with one of the boys. He was standing to my left, before. He's quite handsome, despite his lopsided grin. For a second that seems like it lasts for much longer, the two of us stare into the other's eyes. Then, he speaks.

“You alright there?”

“Y-yeah… th-thanks.”

“No biggie. Who wouldn't wanna help out a pretty girl like you, eh? I'm Haru, by the way.”

“H-hanako.”

“Nice to meet you, Hanako. Now how 'bout we get back to the game, eh?”

I nod, and resume the ball game. Nearby, Ibarazaki gives me the thumbs up. Does Haru really think I'm pretty? Maybe Ibarazaki was right, after all. We make our own image of ourselves. I can be pretty if I want to be. I can be anything.

*****

I slowly make my way to the front of the bus and out of its confines, glad to be out of the hot, cramped space. I take a deep breath of the cool, hilltop, Yamaku air and head towards the dorms. My right arm is looped around Lilly's, leading her, while in my left is my discarded summer dress. From amidst the throng, a voice calls out to me.

“Hey, it looks like you can get sunburnt after all.”

“Rin! What’d I tell you before!”

I instinctively flinch at the comment, but I shrug it off. I can feel the stinging heat of UV overexposure on my skin. Tezuka’s right; I probably should have applied some sunscreen. Oh well.

“It’s fine. D-don’t worry about it.”

“Phew! Hey, listen; you ever wanna hang out again, you know where to find me, alright? We can go meet some more cute boys together!”

“Sure. Th-thanks, Ibarazaki.”

“Aw c’mon, we’re friends now. You can call me Emi.”

“O-okay… Emi.”

“Heh, that’s it! Seeya!”

And with that, Emi takes off, catching up to the meandering Tezuka in no time at all. Friends, huh? I resume walking myself, and a polite cough precedes some curious probing from the girl by my side.

“Well, it certainly sounds like you had an eventful day.”

“Y-yeah.”

I make to add onto my response, but stop myself. I consider the thought for most of the journey back to the dorms. Would she agree? I think she would. It’d be a good idea. I have to make my own name for myself. Alright, it’s settled. I’ll ask her.

“Um… do you w-want to have d-dinner with Ibara- uh… Emi, sometime? I want to take up c-cooking again.”

“That would be lovely, Hanako.”

“A-and we should go to a k-karaoke room, too. It'll be f-fun.”

“I'd be happy to. I must warn you though, my singing leaves a lot to be desired.”

“Great! Uh, I mean, th-thanks.”

Lilly giggles lightly, evidently taking note of my uncharacteristic enthusiasm.

“It sounds like Ibarazaki has rubbed off on you, just a little. In any case, you needn’t thank me. Any friends of yours are friends of mine.”

Friends. It’s been a long time since that was plural. Maybe going on the beach excursion wasn’t such a bad idea after all. It’s time for 'rough ‘n’ tough iron chef princess' Hanako Ikezawa to have friends once again.

First | Next

==========

So no one told you life was gonna be this way, *clap clap clap clap*

That's enough of that. I noticed Emi and Hanako seem to be a popular non-standard pairing for some reason. I figured "yeah, I can get behind that", but thought nothing else of it. Then I saw a picture of the two of them at the beach, and some ideas began to take shape. Also this was at 1 in the morning, just as I was about to go to bed. By 4:30, I was done, though I decided to wait til today to edit and upload it. Originally it was a bit more lewd, but it didn't really fit the theme of the piece. Doesn't matter, there's probably plenty of lewd Eminako stuff out there without my contributions.

Oh, and if I ever have to write Ibarazaki so often again, I'm gonna rage. Hope you liked it, folks!

[Brogurt]

I'm pretty sure that Hanako isn't pyrophobic, and I also think she hates that people would assume that of her because it means she appears weak. She had no reservations about the fireworks, and cooking usually does involve fire. Or by definition it at least involves heat transfer, which is something she was also okay with, since it was in that scene right before her PTSD acted up in class.

Also, what happened to them actually going swimming or whatever the deal was? I know it can't be easy to say "it was real fun" and it can't be easy to describe each movement of Hanako's arm as she does the breaststroke, but make just a little something about how she has or hasn't swam in a long time, and how she is or is not any good at it right off the bat. You could even make a little backstory up about the presence or lack thereof of pools at or near the orphanage

Also, you got some interesting characterization with how Hanako thinks, completely disregarding the pyrophobia.

"Who wants to be friends with the ugly freak" seems like a likely tone for her, but when she reminds herself to ask about Lilly's slutty outfit, it makes her seem like she wants to get involved in it, since she actually seems curious. I'd expect someone who is socially challenged to maybe hold onto that thought for the sole purpose of starting a conversation later, based on my own experiences, but to actually show interest in it is an action that shows Hanako in a different light.

Also, she seems kinda eager to think that Emi's coming on to her, but that might just be residue from the lewd things you mentioned. On a tangential note, Hanako also says that Emi "fits the stereotypes", presumably for being a lesbian/bisexual, but none of those are mentioned outright. The only thing I can think of is "she's a slut so she'll take it from anyone", which I guess would be really crude/crass to actually write out as an author, but it could also put a cynical twist on Hana-banana's view.

[BlackWaltzTheThird]

Hana-banana

Heh.

pyrophobic

Wait, what? I wasn't meaning to imply that. Perhaps a few changes in phrasing are in order.

On a tangential note, Hanako also says that Emi "fits the stereotypes", presumably for being a lesbian/bisexual, but none of those are mentioned outright.

Yeah, definitely some changes to make. EDIT: I've now made some changes, and added a little bit more content in there. Hopefully that clears up any misinterpretations.

"Who wants to be friends with the ugly freak" seems like a likely tone for her, but when she reminds herself to ask about Lilly's slutty outfit, it makes her seem like she wants to get involved in it, since she actually seems curious. I'd expect someone who is socially challenged to maybe hold onto that thought for the sole purpose of starting a conversation later, based on my own experiences, but to actually show interest in it is an action that shows Hanako in a different light.

That sort of different light was my intent. The way I see it, Hanako aspires to be that popular, attractive, normal girl, but the constant derision she experienced puts an mental ceiling on her aspiriations. That curiosity would be a part of that; Hanako might imagine a fantasy self going out in a nice bikini, but (mistakenly?) believes her real self to not be good enough to do so. I'm glad that got across.

[Carighan]

I really like that last one. It's a good one shot, provides a nice little positive emotion.

If I had to offer - hopefully constructive - criticism, the specific wording of Emi seems out of character at times. Her apostrophes and ya's, mostly. But even then I'm not sure it's that, it just somehow sounded more Miki than Emi.

[BlackWaltzTheThird]

The Master of Romance

To the tune of: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AVbQo3IOC_A

Now this is the story all about how
My life got flipped turned upside down.
And I'd like to take a minute so ears up, foo';
I'll tell you how I became the prince of a place called Yamaku.

In West Akihabara born and raised,
In the arcade is where I spent most of my days.
Chillin' out maxin' relaxin' all cool,
And kickin' some football outside of the school.

I was handed a note it said to meet outside,
A confession? Iwanako? I'm surprised.
I said just one little word and my heart stopped too.
Dad said "you're movin' to a boarding school, it's called Yamaku".

I begged and I pleaded with 'im day after day,
But he packed my suit case and sent me on my way.
He gave me my meds and when I got there I knew it,
I put my swaggervest on and said "I might as well do it".

First class, yo this is grouse,
Poppin' pills like Hugh Laurie as Doctor House.
Is this what the kids at Yamaku livin' like?
Hmm, this might be alright.

But wait I hear they're crippled, no legs and all that.
Is this the type of place that they should send this cool cat?
I don't think so, but I'll give it one chance,
The problem's in your pants, the Master of Romance!

Well I'm in the lobby and I didn't wait long.
There was a dude dressed like a timelord fuckin' sayin' my name wrong.
I ain't tryin' to get detention yet I just got here!
I sprang with the quickness like lightning disappeared.

I whistled for some bitches and when they came by
They had scars on their face and clouds in their eyes.
If anything I could say I was aloof,
But I thought "naw forget it, yo hoes, to the roof!"

We got up to the roof about quarter to six
I yelled to the cripples, "yo girls, suck mah dick!"
I looked to my kingdom and took a manly stance,
To sit on my throne as Master of Romance.

==========

I'm not even sorry. Not one bit.

[Ranger296]

I'm disappointed that I enjoyed this so much.

[Archangel Gabriel]

Fresh Prince of Yamaku

[LegyPlegy]

I'm disappointed that I enjoyed this so much.

This practically sums up a ton of people's feelings (including mine :C), lmao

[CptSalsa]

Leave it to BlackWaltz to make everyone love Hisao.