A Saki-Pseudo Route Continuation (Updated 4/3)

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A Saki-Pseudo Route Continuation (Updated 4/3)

Post by SemisoftCheese » Mon Feb 04, 2013 9:42 pm

POWEREDIT: I decided to rewrite this because the first chapters of this sucked popsicles, so I'm going to be rewriting the first two acts I produced. For now, this means correcting clumsy prose and plot elements while retaining the general structure of the route as a whole. I'll probably re-edit these posts into this thread, but if you want to check them out, the best place to go is my pastebin, which is located in my signature.

EDITED CHAPTERS:
2-7-"Numb"

Act 2: Denial

Numb:
Every step that I take is another mistake to you.

Fire in Your New Shoes/Running With Scissors
Sleep, Shakespeare, and the new you.

Pride (In the Name of Love)
Sometimes the high road looks awfully like the low.

The Night Out
How does it sound if we spend the night out?

Act 3: Despair

The Corellian Blood Stripe
Never tell me the odds.

White Nights
Oh! Only a moment of bliss? Isn't such a moment sufficient for the whole of a man's life?

The Egg and I
Steady, as she goes.

The Breakfast Club
Well, it is the most important meal of the day.

But There's No Sense Crying Over Every Mistake
You just keep on trying until you run out of cake.

Act 4: Dying

Dancing In My Head
Down the sunset, up the lights.

Fix You
Lights will guide you home.

Dream A Little Dream of Me
Stars fading, but I linger on.

Epilogue
Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you.

Thanks and Acknowledgements
Last edited by SemisoftCheese on Fri Jul 19, 2013 9:50 pm, edited 25 times in total.

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Post by SemisoftCheese » Mon Feb 04, 2013 9:42 pm

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Numb

Post by SemisoftCheese » Mon Feb 04, 2013 9:43 pm

>Insist

“Saki, how do you know Mutou’s brother!?”

A brief flash of annoyance rolls over her face. Then her voice, as sweet and saccharine as ever, rolls out.

“Darling, it’s nothing worth worrying about.”

Then she pulls me sweetly in for a kiss, with lips so soft they could be pillows in Zeus’s bed. I close my eyes and enjoy the warm sensation of her body pressing against mine.

I don’t care about Mutou’s brother anymore. I don’t care about anyone except for the warm figure pressing herself against me.

So this…. this is what it means to be in love.


Numb

It’s raining. The rain at Yamaku is thick rain. In the city, it’s al
ways thin and grey, more of a foggy nuisance than physical droplets. At Yamaku, the raindrops are large, forceful and assertive. They let you know they’re here in force--storm force. I’m glad I brought my umbrella.

Off in the distance, I can see a tiny figure doing laps around the track. Emi. I grin. It’s reassuring to know that someone knows what they have to do, rain or shine.

As for me, I’m currently walking in ankle-deep puddles. I don’t know how Saki convinced me to join the Fashion club considering all I wear is the school uniform: green khakis (correction by Saki: Chinos), a white shirt, and a heavy black tie. I doubt it’ll ever change, they give girls far more leeway in the dress code at Yamaku as opposed to the guys.

But yes, back to the matter. I am late to fashion club, and Saki will own my soul for this. At least I think so.

I open the door to the main hallway, sprint past a tragically overloaded Yuuko, up the stairs, and and stop in front of a door.

I feel bad for not helping Yuuko. But if I’m any later for this meeting, I might end up with a can of instant coffee stuck up my ass.

I open the door. Inside sits a reasonably irritated Saki, Kurosawa, and a dark haired girl waving a stump around in the air. Miki?

All heads turn as I enter. There is a flash of irritation in Saki’s eyes. Those are becoming more common.

I slump on a desk in exhaustion. That walk took more out of me than I thought.

“Darling, you’re late.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“Sorry, I had to go help Yuuko.” A tiny white lie might save me.

“And what was Yuuko doing that was more important than my club?” She’s a little more than irritated now. Guess that lie was useless.

I can see why Saki is angry. She’s been working so hard to get Fashion Club up and running again, and here I am, her boyfriend, late and soaking wet because he had to help someone else out. The one person she thought she could count on, late.

But I’m angry too. What right does she have to own me like this? I’m her boyfriend, not her goddamn toy. I’m a human being and I have rights too.

Saki’s giving me a flat, irritated, look, and it takes all my willpower to not roll my eyes at her. I didn’t ask for this.

As things are about to come to an absolute cold-war standoff, the door barges open.

“~WAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!”

Having been properly announced, a pair of pink drinks bounces through the door, followed by its owner.

“Sacchan, this isn’t a sanctioned meeting! You kn-ow that we can’t let you meet” singsongs Misha.

And as always, a dark clump of hair pops out from behind Misha’s drills. Shizune. If looks could kill…

Well, shit. I didn’t expect this at all. Well, it’s not like the student council has any authority anyway. I wonder how Saki’s going to handle this.

I look to the girls. Kurosawa looks confused. Saki looks furious.

Thankfully, Miki steps in.

“Hey guys… it’s cool. Just a meeting of a few girls and one lovely Nakai to discuss the latest fashions. You know. Skirts. The kind of stuff Hisao loves.”

Thanks, Miki.

Shizune signs furiously. Misha looks at her, then to Miki, then back at Shizune. She is clearly uneasy with assaulting the easygoing Miki. Shizune amplifies this with a pointed gesture at the end. I guess it’s not always being the messenger.

“But Mi-chaan… this meeting isn’t sanctioned by the Student Council!” Misha ends on a point, gaining momentum like a snowball rolling down a hill. Shizune rolls her eyes. She probably knew Misha just massacred her point to shreds.

Saki opens her mouth. Uh oh. I see a predatory glint in her eyes. The kind of glint that makes a peregrine falcon dive at 200 miles per hour to catch an unaware, pink-drilled rabbit.

“Yes, Misha, this is a meeting of Fashion Club. Would you like to join?”

Misha is looks confused. Uh oh. Confused prey is easy prey.

“But Eno-chaan… this meeting is unsanctioned by the student council…”

“That’s okay, we’ll make an exception for you,” says Saki sweetly. Sweetly like the Oompa Loompas when they drowned Augustus Gloop.

“But… but… you can’t meet….”

Saki, like the expert predator she is, goads her into the killbox.

“It’s okay Misha, we’ll be really quick. I promise. One topic on the agenda today, that’s it. And we’d be honored if you’d come and sit with us. I’ll be sure to stop by the Student Council tomorrow to get approval and forms in triplicate.”

Misha looks surprised. Shizune raises her eyebrows. They convene for the briefest of seconds, and then sit down.

“Okay Sacchan, just this once! But make sure to get forms next time!.” Misha smiles at Saki to let her know that it’s Shizune, not her, talking. She seems pleased to be included.

To be honest, I’m kind of worried. I wonder what Saki has in mind. This can’t be good. My heart jumps a little, and it’s not because I’m still wet from the rain.

Saki smiles sweetly at all of us, lingering on Misha. Misha squirms a little. This isn’t Saki trying to make her nervous. This is a bear toying with its food.

“So today’s agenda… is pink hair.”

“Lately, both Vogue and People magazine have been trashing the use of non-natural hair dyes, calling them both unnatural and uncouth. It’s one thing to be a fake strawberry blonde, but how about a fake pink starburst?”

My mouth hangs open. She continues.

“Of course, I’m not of that opinion. But I did read somewhere that the perfectly beautiful Brittney Spears almost dyed her hair once… and was subsequently described as a “3/10,” with Rosie O’Donnell coming in at a 2/10. If you’re as beautiful as Britney, and you drop that far down for simply having pink hair, one can only imagine what people think of normal looking people with pink hair.”

By this point, Misha has stopped signing to Shizune. But Shizune is sharp enough to get what’s happening. She starts to rise, but Saki motions her down gently.

“After all, who would even think of dying their hair any color but their natural one? The next step would be to get fat and stamp papers all day.”

This isn’t mean anymore. This is cruel. I have half a mind to get up and stop it. Misha looks like she’s on the point of tears. Her brown eyes well up. I don’t think anyone’s been this mean to her before. With her cheerful demeanor, I doubt anyone’s ever even considered it.

I am shocked. Miki looks pretty peeved. Kurosawa looks like she wants to curl into a ball and roll away into a corner. Saki has the look of a sunning lioness--confident and feral.

I’ve never seen Saki alive like this. Her brown eyes are glittering and her hair seems to have a golden light of it’s own. It’s scary to see her so alive in such a terrible moment.

Look, I’m no big fan of the student council. Shizune takes her job way too seriously, and Misha needs a volume knob installed. But this isn’t criticism. This is cruelty. This has to stop, girlfriend or no. I start to rise. But it’s too late. The damage has been done.

“~WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH”

Misha bolts crying from the room, fleeing into the hallway from the Saki-Falcon.

Shizune rises angrily. She looks like she’s about to punch Saki’s lights out, but she seems to think better of it. Angrily raising a finger at Saki, the unspoken threat can be heard in the room. She’ll get her for this.

Shizune storms angrily out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

A silence hangs in the room. Everyone’s in shell-shock, while Saki herself seems to be preening in what can only be the look of a well-fed, fresh-off-the-hunt falcon.

A few minutes pass. Everyone’s focused on not making eye contact with each other, sneaking furtive glances at the Saki-falcon. Even I’m afraid to make eye contact with her.

Kurosawa breaks the silence.

“Saki… why’d you do that?”

“Why not? They were bothering the club we worked really try to set up so they can satisfy their stupid self-need for a government. As if ruining other people’s work justified their existence,” states Saki curtly. Matter closed. End of conversation. Kurosawa retreats and it looks like she’s trying to pretend the conversation never happened.

However, another challenger appears on the scene. Miki.

Miki gives Saki a half smile/wince before leaning against a desk. Saki looks completely unapologetic.

“Saki… whatever they wanted, I don’t think you should have gone that far, y’know?” She says it in a gentle tone, but there’s steel wire under the suggestion. Hopefully Saki will pick up on what Miki’s saying and drop the matter.

The club president shoots her a flat glare.

“Why? It’s my club. I do what I want. Student government is a club, not actually a government, no matter what they say.”

So much for apologetics.

“Sak-ster, you made Misha cry. She’s about as harmless as a blind baby bat. She’s basically just a translator for Shizune, and even if she meant what she said, you had no right to make that assumption.”

Miki’s voice has lost its California surfer drawl. Her voice is sharp, crisp, with no detectable accent. She’s so easygoing that seeing her like this is frightening. She gets up off the desk and stands up straight, looking Saki straight in the eye.

“Listen, Saki. I came to your stupid club because I thought you were a nice person and you lend me clothes sometimes. I’ve seen you lash out at most people on campus, including your boyfriend over there, but I brushed it off because I thought you were a good person inside. Because I thought you were a nice person with just a chip on your shoulder. Not someone who would make Misha cry because she asked for a set of stupid papers. Not cool. Not at all.”

Miki looks down at her stump. She smiles bitterly, but then her mouth forms a hard line. She stares Saki full-on in the eyes, the deep purple clashing with Saki’s steel-brown eyes. A gaze that pierces right through Saki’s heart—sees through her and back.

Miki gets up to leave. She punches her stump into her palm, perhaps in frustration.

“Later, Kurosawa, Nakai, Enomoto.”

She opens the door and walks out.

I don’t get back to the dorms until late that night. Saki draws out the meeting, talking about skirts and ties and dresses, with Gucci’s new butterfly collection being a point of major interest. I pretend to nod and listen. She pretends that everything’s ok.

As I walk Saki to her dorms that night, listening to her chatter idly away about the latest fashions, I feel an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. Relationships aren’t supposed to be like this. I have half a mind to stop Saki and ask her what the hell she was thinking.

We come to a stop in front of the girl’s dorms, and Saki turns to face me.

“Hey, Hisao?”

“What is it, Saki?” It’s hard to keep the tension out of my voice.

She recognizes it and looks down for a second. When she looks up, all the pretensions are gone.

“Thanks for supporting me back there. I’m not sure what got into me.”

She sighs.

“I guess I was just stressed about the entire thing of fashion club and I lashed out... I’m sorry Hisao. I’ll make it right.”

With that she puts her arms around me and pulls me into a long, lingering, kiss, and my exhaustion is replaced by sudden excitement. Down, Hisao. Her lips exert soft, steady, pressure on mine.

She gives me a wink and skips off towards the girl’s dorms, her skirt flouncing along the way. I try to suppress a grin and fail miserably. My heart feels like it’s soaring towards the moon.

Well, I guess I can make an exception this time. Isn't that the definition of love?


========


"Id vs Numb (GlowintheDark Remix) is a song by Hardwell
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Levels

Post by SemisoftCheese » Mon Feb 04, 2013 9:48 pm

Saturdays at Yamaku are pretty lazy. That being said, I couldn’t really sleep last night. The drama between Saki and Misha kept replaying through my head. It wasn’t until rosy-fingered dawn crawled over the horizon that I finally went to sleep.

I glance at the alarm clock besides me. 10AM. Four hours of sleep. I want to sleep in further, but that’s probably a bad habit. I’ll just get a good rest tonight or something. It’s a nice day outside. Maybe I’ll sit on a bench for a while before I head into town to scrounge up breakfast. I’ve heard a lot about the Shanghai.

I shower, get dressed, and head outside. Off in the distance, I can see the bouncing figure of Emi doing laps. Laps. I wonder what it’s like to feel free when you run, fast and as light as the air.

Hopefully today will be better than yesterday. Even though Saki apologized, I can't pretend that yesterday was anything but miserable.

I’m not really sure where I am in my relationship with Saki right now. Technically, we’re boyfriend and girlfriend. She’s always on a hair trigger about something. But when I’m alone with her, she turns into the sweetest girl in the world.

I don’t know much about Saki besides her condition. The way she talks about it so blunt. It’s almost like she’s asking you to react or something. There’s got to be something there, I’m sure of it. Just what is it? Maybe I can ask the Nur--

Black.

Pure black. I can’t see anything.

Heh. I hope I haven’t spontaneously combusted. That’s not medically possible, right? A bum ticker and an explosive condition? The two almost go together in a perverse pun. How punintentional.

But there's a hand... and something else... covering my eyes? Who could it be? Saki?

“Hiiiiissssaaaoooooooooo” purrs a voice in my ear.

Ah.

Miki.

The hand(s)? raise from my eyes and I’m spun around. Miki’s purple eyes show nothing but amusement. Then they grow serious.

“Listen, Hisao. I’m sorry for lashing out at your girlfriend yesterday. I think she’s a good person, and you are too. I didn’t mean her any offense, directly or indirectly. I admire what she's doing with the Fashion Club, and I think it's cool that you're in it too."

Uhhh.....

Do I tell her what Saki said? That’s definitely a violation of her privacy... but I can’t just brush Miki off.

What do I say?

“It’s okay. I think she values you as a friend and she’s wasn’t really thinking her actions through yesterday."

Her eyebrows raise in what I hope is praise of my attempt at tact. She breaks into a 1000-Mikiwatt grin. It’s hard not to like Miki.

“Sounds good. So, Hisao, whaddya say we get breakfast on me as a makeup for ruining yesterday’s meeting?”

She sidles up close to me, her eyes winking with mischief.

“Maybe I’ll show you how fashionable I can be without any clothes on.”

My heart races a tiny bit, and my face burns a bright red.

Miki without her clothes on… now that's a thought and a half. I brush the thought from my mind. You're in a relationship, Hisao. Pull yourself together.

Still…

CRASH!

A large volume of Shakespeare falls out from behind a tree. A Shakespeare tree?

A dash of blue rolls out from behind the tree, dusting herself off and picking up her book. She shakes the sleep out of her head and walks toward Miki. Suzuki? I think that’s her name. She is in my class, but… if grades were awarded for sleeping, let's just say she'd have a pretty easy A.

“SSSSNNNOOOOOZZZZUUUUUUU!!!!!!” roars Miki as she dashes over and scoops up a helpless Suzuki in her arms.

Miki's spinning around in a circle with a full-grown girl in her arms, laughing manically the entire time. It's a strange sight, but I can't help but smile. Miki stops spinning and brings her captive over, unceremoniously dumping her onto the grass.

Suzuki gets up and dusts herself off, looking at me as if I'm a strange animal in a zoo.

I don't look that bad, do I?

Miki waits no time making introductions.

“Hisao, meet Suzu Suzuki. Blue hair, sleep extraordinaire. Also known as Snoozu, but you don’t get to call her that unless she falls asleep on you, clothed or not.”

I offer my hand to shake. Suzu seems nervous. Without warning, she pitches forward, maybe a bow, maybe she’s now at 45 degrees, maybe why is she tilting forward so much maybe --

SMACK

Her head collides with mine as she collapses asleep into my chest. I can only stand there confused as Miki starts to cackle.

“Bwahahaa Hisao, certainly the knock-out ladies’ man! Just an introduction is enough to knock them out!”

Meanwhile, Suzu (or now that’s she’s fallen asleep, Snoozu), is blissfully asleep on my shoulder, dozing away. I feel like that kid who asks for the BB gun for christmas and then steps on his glasses. My face is burning red and I'm at a complete loss as what to do.

Miki’s cackle dwindles as she picks up on my current state, and she flashes me a genuine smile.

“Ok Hisao, enough excitement for the morning. I’ll wake Suzu up and we can all head down to the Shanghai for breakfast. Cool?”

I breathe a sigh of relief. Things are sorting themselves out.

“Cool.”

I expect Miki to thump Suzu on the back to wake her up or something—something in line with the brash, in-your-face Miura attitude. However, she does nothing of the sort.

Leading me by hand to the grass right beside us, Miki takes Suzu off my shoulder and onto hers, grunting with exertion. In a smooth, practiced motion, she sits down, laying Suzu’s head on her lap.

I stand off to the side awkwardly. This seems like something special--intimate, almost. I don't want to intrude.

Miki brushes a stray strand of hair out of her face. She looks at Suzu carefully, as if she were a piece of fine China in an antique store. For once, Miki is not the bull.

She gives Suzu a brief shake on the shoulder.

“Wake up, Snoozu,” she whispers. Something flashes in her eyes. What is it? Tenderness? Regret?

As hard as she’s sleeping, Suzuki’s eyes flutter open. She looks at Miki in confusion. Miki’s gaze back is steady, and purple, and for some reason, sad.

"Time to wake up, Snoozu. You don't want to miss what's going on in the world, do you?" she whispers.

A brilliant smile reaches her lips.

"Besides, Hisao might not let you fall asleep on him again. You wouldn't want that to happen, would you?" her voice now tinged with mischief.

Suzuki turns her head. She sees me. She turns the color of a tomato. A tomato with blue hair. A strange sight.

“Ohmygod Hisao Imsosorry I fellasleepandithappenssomuchand”

Miki shushes Suzu by putting a finger on her lips.

“Suzu, it’s ok. Hisao understands.”

The grin returns.

“I’ll daresay he even enjoyed it a little.”

Fuck this isn't even fair how good Miki is at this teasing. I've got to attempt a retort or something. This is unreal.

“Miki, I—“

She places a finger on my lips, shushing me gently.

“My, you do get wound up so quickly. I can see why Saki’s interested. I’ll make it up to you, Snoozu and I. Breakfast with the lovely Miura.”

Wait. Weren't we going to do that anyway?

“But weren’t we going to do that any---“

The finger again, followed by a wink.

“Any more excitement, Hisao, and Suzu might fall asleep again. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

She presses her finger on my lips once more for emphasis, then simply flashes a 1000-Mikiwatt grin at me and motions to follow.

I sigh. Don't start fights you can't win, Hisao.

We walk down the sunlit hill towards breakfast, with Miki chattering idly the entire way. As the sun shines on my back, I find myself smiling.

I guess today's starting to look up after all.


======


"Levels" (Skrillex Remix) is a song by Avicii
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Post by SemisoftCheese » Mon Feb 04, 2013 9:50 pm

ignore post pls
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Re: A Saki-Pseudo Route Continuation

Post by Doomish » Mon Feb 04, 2013 10:07 pm

Well, this certainly is taking an odd direction all of a sudden. Glad to see you continued the "Saki beating up on other characters" thing she had going in mocaw's version because while it makes her look like a total bitch, it is kind of funny. I will, however, say that I still don't understand what makes Saki a likeable character outside of the sob story her disability automatically dumps on her. She just, like, is a bitch. She makes other characters feel dejected and barely treats Hisao like they're in a relationship at all, if they could even consider it that.

Also, because I'm curious: Is the sudden concentrated burst of Suzu a reference to Scissorlips' route by any chance? I'm seeing a few similarities.

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Re: A Saki-Pseudo Route Continuation

Post by Mirage_GSM » Tue Feb 05, 2013 9:14 am

“Ohmygod Hisao Imsosorry I fellasleepandithappenssomuchand-
This doesn't look like this Suzu has much in common with Scissor's version - and that's not neccessarily a bad thing.
Nice writing so far. Adding Miki and Suzu to the mix is a choice I approve of. With just Saki, Misha and Shizune this route would probably become very dark pretty soon.
Emi > Misha > Hanako > Lilly > Rin > Shizune

My collected KS-Fan Fictions: Mirage's Myths
griffon8 wrote:Kosher, just because sex is your answer to everything doesn't mean that sex is the answer to everything.
Sore wa himitsu desu.

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Re: A Saki-Pseudo Route Continuation

Post by SemisoftCheese » Tue Feb 05, 2013 11:22 am

Mirage_GSM wrote: Nice writing so far.
Thanks, Mirage.
Doomish wrote: Also, because I'm curious: Is the sudden concentrated burst of Suzu a reference to Scissorlips' route by any chance? I'm seeing a few similarities.
Both you and Mirage are correct here. I am a big fan of Scissorlips' route, but I wanted to put my own spin by making her more of a "proactive" character as well as providing some relief from the "Only-Saki-and-Hisao" dynamic. I'm not entirely sure of who's going to spin in next, but I would like to throw in some Hanako, a little more Miki, and on a dare, some LeLouch.

Once again, thanks for your feedback guys.

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Pride (In the Name of Love)

Post by SemisoftCheese » Wed Feb 06, 2013 1:28 am

I step into the hallway of the main building. 7PM, and Hisao Nakai needs a can of instant coffee, and as luck would have it, there’s none left in the vending machine in my building.

Could it have to do with a certain anarchist stockpiling supplies in his room for the eventual feminist triumph? It could be, since I heard Kenji clanking cans through the vending machine all night. No matter. My coffee fix will be satisfied soon.

I turn the corner and she’s there. Saki. Waiting by some corner of chance. That’s one cup of coffee.

She moves without hesitation, pressing me to the wall, in a hard, erotic kiss. Down, boy.

I break it off. I have to. I’m better than this. And I’d like to believe she’s better too.

“Saki, we need to---“

She shushes me, pressing me against the wall with another hard kiss. I want to linger and enjoy the moment, but I can’t. She’s ruined it for me.

“Saki, we need to talk.”

She looks at me with sad, puppy dog eyes. Cute. A look that I would have fell for a week ago.

“What you did to Misha wasn’t ok, Saki. I’m not saying you need to apologize, but it wasn’t that great either. She’s just a harmless girl carrying out Shizune’s orders, which are annoying but harmless at worst. Would it have killed you to just have asked nicely for an exception?” I finish anticlimactically.

The soft brown glimmer flashes again. Sadness. Then hardness. Resolve.

“Darling, you don’t know how long I’ve known the student council. We’ve never agreed much, and it’s none of your business.”

Even if they had issues before, I doubt the way Saki acted was justified in any context.

I’ve got a choice—to pursue the issue or let it drop.

>Pursue the issue
>Let it Drop

I want to call Saki out for her behavior, but I doubt it’ll do her any good. She’s in no mood to listen, and to be honest, I’m no mood to fight it out.

I nod in acceptance, and Saki smiles at me with a brightness that makes me forget all of my troubles.

She draws me in for a kiss, and this time I give in, letting her soft lips linger on mine.

Then we both head to the vending machine, getting the right cans this time (black for her, cappuccino for me), and head back to the dorms, idly chatting all the way.

It’s good to be back, ladies and gentlemen.

Previous I Next
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The Night Out

Post by SemisoftCheese » Wed Feb 06, 2013 1:29 am

I have a feeling Mutou has a secret identity as a super-hero. Or a second job at night. Or at least something to explain the incredible doziness he displays in class. And the crooked half-smile. Maybe he’s an ex-mobster on the down-low?

That being said, he’s an excellent teacher. Just a really sleepy one. But as teachers go, not that bad at all. I’ve heard horror stories about the art teacher.

It’s been three days since the Misha incident. Misha’s subdued in class today. She has been for the last three days. She’s taking what Saki said pretty hard.

I’d apologize for Saki’s behavior, but I’m not sure it would do any good. Probably best to just let it rest. Misha is pretty bouncy anyhow.

But on a new topic: I’ve got a date tonight. I planned it all out as we chatted. I keep on running it through my head as I sit through class, Mutou droning on about pentanes, hexanes, octanes.

It’s funny how it got started. It went a little like this.

“So, I was thinking,” Enomoto-san says. “We need to go pick up some more cloth for the yukata project. Want to come into the city with me tomorrow?”

“Sure thing. I’ll let the others know, too.”

“Actually, I was thinking we could go. Just the two of us, you know. I’ll buy you lunch afterwards. As a gesture of thanks. It’ll be fun.”

“I guess. It might work better, though, if everyone could go together, so they can pick out the cloth they need and pick up any other supplies, too.”

Enomoto-san starts to laugh. “You’re really dense, aren’t you, Hisao?”

After I picked up the social cues, I punched her in the shoulder and set up the details.

First we’re going to meet up at 6:00 outside the front gates. We’re going to board the bus and head out to the city.

Once we get there, there’s a café I know we can head to for a snack, and then the movie theater. It’s more of an old-timey theater, where they surprisingly don’t sell traditional concessions, so we’ll have to stop by the convenience store before entering.

Afterwards, ice-cream, and then back to Yamaku. A perfect, idyllic, night, with the perfect, idyllic, girl.

Mutuou finishes up his lecture with a lazy flourish of his hand. He slumps at his desk. We’re dismissed. I hurry out of class and off to the shower. I’ve got to get dressed and cleaned up for tonight. Maybe I can wear my new sweater-vest. Saki hates it.

I meet her outside the gates at six. She’s dressed in a beautiful sea-form green Gucci dress, paired with a matching white leather butterfly belt and her golden-brown hair cascading down her shoulders. The red-sun is rolling over Yamaku, but she’s radiant in the fading sun—a glossy glimmer among the burnt hills. She’s beautiful, but I can’t find the words to tell her so. A white Chopard watch fills out her wrist and pairs off the outfit. Sublime. Elegant. Perfection. How can I put this.

“You look great.”

Goddammit Hisao.

“Thanks, Hisao. I’d say the same to your sweatervest but I think it belongs in the trash.”

She giggles, rare, and pulls me close, whispering in my ear.

“I wouldn’t throw you in, though.”

We get on the bus and she hooks her elbow through mine, making me feel like a million dollars, Hisao Nakai with the prettiest girl in all of Japan on my arm.

We board the bus. Dinner goes smoothly. A rare steak for me, a chicken ceasar for her. I’ve gotten some money from my parents recently, so I can afford to pay all of this.

It feels good, being able to buy her everything she deserves.

We head to the convenience store. I lightly tease her about her choice of drink.

“French Vanilla milk, Saki? Since when did you love a bunch of cheese-eating, surrender monkeys?”
Last edited by SemisoftCheese on Wed Feb 06, 2013 1:33 am, edited 1 time in total.

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SemisoftCheese
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The Night Out

Post by SemisoftCheese » Wed Feb 06, 2013 1:29 am

She pouts, sticks her tongue out at me. Wags a finger back and forth. Cute.

“At least the French knew not to wear a black sweatervest at night, Hisao!” she exclaims mockingly.

Then she grabs my coffee from my hands, and I’m forced to chase her around the store, slipping around the aisles as she dances from row to row, cackling the entire time.

The adults looking on simply smile. They know this feeling. It’s two young souls free and in love for the first time.

I catch her and roll on top of her, laughing the entire time. I lightly swat her with my sweatervest. I feel light tap on my shoulder.

Uh oh. It’s the manager, who strangely resembles Jackie Chan. He wears a thin-lipped smile as he motions to an open register, eager for us to get out. Saki and I stifle a giggle as we look at him. We line up neatly at the register.

“Psst. Hisao.” She whispers. She gives me a light karate chop on the shoulder.

“Hissaaaooo. Do you think I could beat the manager in kung-fu?”

I do my best to play hard-to-get, looking straight ahead as she deals me another karate chop.

Sometimes she can be such a handful.

“Hissaaaaooo. I’m going to challenge him to a duel.”

“Saki,---please---you”

Without further warning, she jumps on the grocery belt. She’s made a scene now, the girl who looks like Japanese nobility, standing on the belt of a convenience store.

She holds her cane up in the air—this one’s gilded silver—assuming the pose of a champion fencer. She prods at the manager—one, two, three—who looks completely confused.

“EN GARDE, MONSIEUR”

I’m afraid he’s going to call the police with all of these antics. He's so confused, just about to plug his key into the cash register. He has no clue what to make of this.

To be honest, neither do I.

“YOUR MOTHER WAS A HAMSTER AND YOUR FATHER SMELT OF ELDERBERRIES”

Psssfffft. I’m trying hard not to laugh right now. Saki’s getting closer to him with each thrust, parry, riposte, and he’s taken to guarding himself with a binder. Poor guy. Caught up in a Saki-Storm.

“I SHAKE MY NOSE IN YOUR GENERAL DIRECTION”

She leans in close to him, her lips almost brushing his forehead. He’s bright red now. He doesn’t know what to do. This whirlwind of energy has invaded his store and turned it into a castle of hilarity.

She reaches for her cane, drawing it close to his face. He flinches visibly. It flickers in the light like a sharp washikazi.

“M-mm-iss, I-I—I don’t t”

She places a finger to his lips.

“Shhhhhhhhhh”

She places her cane on his nose and gives him a light bop with it.

“Boop”

Then she grabs the bagged groceries at the end and sprints out the door yelling,

“Come on Hisao, let’s go!”

I follow after her as she sprints in a side street. Panting for breath, I realize we haven’t paid for the groceries.

I look at her—there’s a hard, glowing light emanating from her—something surreal, something so alive. A golden wire coursing with energy from a sunlit moon.

“Saki, we didn’t just—“

She winks at me and draws me close into a long, soft, kiss.

She whispers: “that’s part of the magic, Hisao.”

Then she pulls open the side door in the alleyway and we’re somehow inside one of the boxes in the movie theater. Amazing.

She gestures grandly to the two box seats waiting for us, invisible to the usher staring at the door.

I sit, she sits, and we enjoy our perfect night together.

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Mirage_GSM
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Re: A Saki-Pseudo Route Continuation

Post by Mirage_GSM » Wed Feb 06, 2013 6:03 am

You know you don't need to start a new post every few paragraphs. The forum has shown to be able to handle a lot more.
Also: Another story with choice points... :(
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BlackWaltzTheThird
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Re: A Saki-Pseudo Route Continuation

Post by BlackWaltzTheThird » Wed Feb 06, 2013 7:23 am

Mirage_GSM wrote:Also: Another story with choice points... :(
Agreed. We had a choice like one or two scenes ago. It seems too soon to have another one. Also, another one with an overabundance of misplaced and arguably unnecessary similies and pop culture references.
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SemisoftCheese
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Re: A Saki-Pseudo Route Continuation

Post by SemisoftCheese » Wed Feb 06, 2013 9:40 am

BlackWaltzTheThird wrote:Also, another one with an overabundance of misplaced and arguably unnecessary similies and pop culture references.
Ouch. I'll give it a better try next time, I'm still learning.
Mirage_GSM wrote: Also: Another story with choice points... :(
I tried to use the choice point here to illustrate the conflict lurking in Hisao's mind--his desire for his perfect girl vs. his inability to know the truth. I tried to make it more of a literary device than a actual point. It seems that they're frowned upon, so I'll stop using them in the future.

Thanks for your feedback, guys.

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The Corellian Blood-Stripe

Post by SemisoftCheese » Wed Feb 06, 2013 9:36 pm

This bed is not mine. The blissfully sleeping form next to me is not mine. This teddy bear is not mine.

Saki’s arms are wrapped around me in a death grip. They slacken. She’s noticed me waking.

A brown haired figure pops up from the bed. Her brown eyes shine like rays of the ocean. Good morning, beautiful.

She rolls over me. Strolls like the Queen of England to the opposite side of the room. She busies herself with what looks like two tins of powder and microwave. Dehydrated rice? What is it?

A smell fills the air. Coffee. Yes. Thank you god.

She’s still busying herself with the little sundries of life, checking compacts of makeup, beginning to brush her hair. She unscrews a tube of lipstick, pressing it to create a luscious, valentine red.

I have to speak now.

“Saki, about last night…”

“Yes, Hisao, we had sex. But that’s not what you’re asking, is it?”

I sigh. She’s not one to miss the point.

“No, Saki, it isn’t. People care about you, Saki. I care about you. I just don’t want to see you hurt others like that, because it hurts me inside, because I love you and I know you can be better.”

She looks back at me. Lipstick is half applied to her lips. A half-smile for a half-morning after.

She crosses the room slowly. She straddles me, sitting on my chest, looking down at me. Her eyes are a sad glassy brown. She places a finger to my lips again. The warm orange sunlight filters behind her, silhouetting her in the autumn light.

“What do you know about caring, Hisao?” She says it sadly, looking to the side. It’s not a challenge. I don’t know what it is.

“Saki, I know I care about yo—“

She presses a finger to my lips again. Her eyes catch the sunlight. Hazel, with flecks of green. A sunlit field, tinged orange before the coming of the winter. A sad smile crosses her face.

“Let me tell you a story about care, Hisao. I had a friend once who knew all about care. He married a woman who carried Spinocerebrellar Ataxia as a recessive single gene. Since he didn’t have the gene, there was no chance any of his children could have it. At worst, they would be carriers.”

She pauses. Looks at me.

“My friend—he had a wife. She cheated on him with another man who, as luck wold have it, was recessive as well. They had a kid out of the affair who happened to be double recessive, but they didn’t want her. No-one wanted a kid who wouldn’t live past 30. To them, it wasn’t worth the effort or the care. They got married and moved to Kagoshima. Far enough to forget.”

“But my friend cared about the daughter that he didn’t bear. It didn’t matter to him that she wasn’t his genetic offspring. He cared so much he spent every single dime of his life savings fighting for custody in court, to get her out of a foster home. My friend cared like hell.”

She stops again. Her golden hair shimmers in the light like an angel. An angel I can’t touch.

“My friend watched as his family deserted him. He was nobility, so his family shunned him when he couldn’t keep his wife, and when he chose to keep the daughter of the affair. Naturally, his in-laws shunned him because he wasn’t related to them anymore. Because his entire life was built on his connections, he watched the walls around him crumble one-by-one. But he still cared. He packed his daughter a bento every day, tied a bow from the first day until the last. A red-hair bow, no matter what the occasion. After his daughter went to sleep, he stayed up late, learning the next chapter so he could help her the following day.”

“My friend cared. But he was unlucky. He contracted lung cancer. But he still cared. But no-one save his daughter cared for him. He had spent all his money on the courts. So he took a job as a manager of a mini-mart, sold his sports car, counted his pennies. The debts mounted for his daughter’s medical care, and he took on another job, then another. A 18 hour workday. Can you belive it?

She looks at me. Full on, straight brown metal jacket 7.62x51mm. I watch her face turn ugly.

“Wouldn’t anyone…couldn’t anyone do anything for your friend?”

She snorts. A harsh, cruel laugh escapes her lips.

“The only one who was left was a twelve year old girl with a cane. His family disowned him. His wife married a construction worker. Could you believe that, Hisao? For all his caring, the only one who could believe in him was a twelve year old girl.”

I look up at her. The tears cut through her face, tiny tributaries to the Nile.

“I can still see my father today, Hisao. He ties my bow every morning. He fixes my collar before school. He drinks instant coffee, black from the can. He still cares even though he’s gone.”

“Saki—I”

“But you know what nailed me Hisao? Killed me to the floor? Make the girl who used to beat up all the boys in her middle school to Saki Enomoto, straight-A fashionista?

“What was it, Saki?,” I almost whisper. I’m afraid of the answer.

“It was when my father was in the hospital, dying. I was sitting there by his bedside, and al I could do was watch him slip away: this man who wasn’t even my real father, but loved me better than my real mom and dad ever did. All I could do was sit there and cry: this tough girl who used to beat up grown men. He held my hand, and he hugged me, and he asked one question:

“How do you want to be remembered?”

She clambers off of me. She sits on the bedside. She heaves a sigh.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore, Nakai.”

“S-s-saki—w-what?”

“I’m sick and tired, Hisao. I’m tired of trying to be your perfect girlfriend. I’m sick and tired of all of it. I’m sick and tired of having to keep a happy face when all I want to do is scream and cry, I’m sick and tired of people thinking I’m storng, when all I am is weak. I’m sick and tired… of people leaving me. My father. My friends. You.”

“Saki, I would never leav--”

“No, Nakai, you wouldn’t. You would sit there as I… it doesn’t matter. Two fucking months, and all you know about me is that I don’t like latte coffe.

She turns and faces the wall. I get up to leave. I didn’t do it. You didn’t fucking do it, Hisao. She needed you and you weren’t there. I can’t let it go like this.

“… Enomoto?”

She doesn’t respond.

I wait. I have to speak now.

“… for what it’s worth… I never wanted a perfect girlfriend.”

Silence.

“… I’m sorry if I forced you to be one for me.”

I close the door behind me as I step out into the hallway.

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