Title: Life at 16
Chapter: 04/XX
Author:
akichuuFandom: the GazettE, alice nine.,
Pairings: AoiXRuki, RukiXAoi, ToraXRuki, ReitaX??, possibly more to come.
Theme: 046: Surrealism - La Cryma Christi @
50storiesRating: For now, PG-13
Genre: AU (high school), fluff, romance
Warnings: Un-beta-ed mistakes, OOC-ness.
Disclaimers: I only own my funky brain and the amusing ideas it spews on daily basis.
Summary: High school: the epicenter of a human child’s adolescence, the most extreme twist in the roller coaster ride of life; the three years of the most remembered acts of foolishness, of teenage melodramas and adventures. Ruki, a 16 year old high school boy, gives us VIP seats to witness the many quirks of his daily life and the dilemmas of his youth as he reveals them in his journal. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.
Comments: My muses ran away from me to spend their holiday in a far, far away land. It took me so long to track them down and drag them back home, but when we did get home, they refused to cooperate. Damn them. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and while you read it I’ll go and whip my muses. Oh right! Saga makes his appearance here! All Saga fans, forgive me… *bows*
Read at your own cost!!! ~ socialriot's Personal Journal
Entry number: 774
Date: July 2nd, 2008
=============================
My, my… I’m very impressed. It seems that Reita has just upgraded his computer. The last time I was here, this thing wasn’t working as smoothly as it was now, thanks to that virus Reita had managed to infect it with. I kept telling him to be careful and install a trustable antivirus, but did he listen? No. He just had to have a vicious virus corrupting his entire hard drive to finally get some sense into his head.
Oh, hello there. It’s me again, the one and only, the fabulous Ruki.
As you may have guessed, I’m not in my own room, updating the journal with my personal computer. I’m currently in Reita’s room, and yes, like I’ve mentioned above, this is Reita’s computer I’m typing the entry with. The man in charge is currently in the basement, I believe, drooling over or nursing or whatever it is he is doing with his bike. He’ll be in there for hours, so I think I can indulge myself with his state of the art computer set. Have I told you how awesome his speakers are? They’re huge, and the sound they produce makes me feel like I’m in a live house or some sort. The louder I set the volume, the more I feel like some sound waves are clawing their way into my ears, that, and added with the bass sounds that seem to make the floor pound under my feet. Amazing.
Quite conveniently, the house is vast, and the yard surrounding it is even more vast, which means that I won’t have neighbors banging on the door anytime sooner or later, demanding me to tune the noises down. It’s a pity that I can’t get a pair of these awesome speakers for my own computer, Mama will never approve… She’ll fry my brain before I can begin disturbing her with the ‘maniacal cacophony I called music’-in her exact words. Ah! But I may get my way… if I also ask her to have my room finely insulated, so as to not let the noises from inside bother the people outside. Yes, Ruki, that’s a great idea. You’re a genius. I’ll definitely go and ask her tomorrow night.
Oh yes! I met Papa. Tonight he came home quite early, earlier than usual, and when he showed up in the living room, he obviously looked like he had been to hell and back-a bad day at work, I suppose. But that was before he noticed me, of course. Once he did notice me, the whole dark aura he seemed to be surrounded with vanished in an instant, and then it was like I was six years old again and I was once more Papa’s ‘Baby Boy’. Good God. I never liked that pet name back then, and I sure as hell don’t like it now. But tonight, like most of the time, I let him have his way because I know it’s what made him happy.
One of these days, though, I’ll have to make him understand that I’m not a baby anymore, and he can’t go around carrying me on his back forever, unless he deems to break his vertebrae from my weight.
Alright, you need my report of today’s happening, not some psychological review of my family’s wellbeing. Am I bringing you more bad news? Ah, I understand the pessimism. I know you’ve grown tired of hearing all of the negativity I’ve been spewing for the last few days, and believe me: I’m tired of them myself. But today, finally, something prosperous came my way. I even feel unusually optimist-no, I know that’s not a trait that you recognize in me; I’m all vain and horrid and all that. But I do feel so, and I must tell you, this isn’t such a bad feeling at all.
Let me begin from the phone call I’d received from Reita last night. If you think we talked for hours and Reita told me everything I wanted to know, then you are wrong. Fact was I didn’t gain much information from that short conversation-if one could call that a conversation at all. It was more like Reita bombarding me with instructions and me listening to him with mounting agitation. “Pack up,” he told me, “and tell Mama you’ll be staying over at our place tomorrow night. Don’t ask questions now, it’s bothersome to explain this on the phone. Just prepare your ears tomorrow, and some guts as well. Yes, I think you’ll need some to deal with… oh well, you’ll know, in time.” And then he spent the last minute ordering me to bring along that software CD I borrowed, and Kai’s phone number, if I had any.
The first thing that popped up in my head was: “Oh my God. Reita has hired an assassin to kill Kai.” And I thought, naturally, that the man would need Kai’s phone number to locate his victim. The idea was breathtakingly tempting, but I hated to think of the consequences, if it truly was what Reita had in mind. Reita had hung up before I had the chance to ask questions, and I was left glaring at the phone as if it could give me answers Reita hadn’t given.
It’s an understatement to say that I was irritated from this ignorance Reita had shown me. Why did he even bother to call if this was all he would tell me? A text message would have sufficed. And I wouldn’t have been so upset from not being able to ask or say anything. I went to bed still with that nagging feeling inside me-the kind of feeling that you get whenever there’s a commotion around you and you’re the only who has no idea what is going on-and the next thing I knew, I woke up, flushing and incredibly horrified as images from my dream haunted me mercilessly. What did I dream about, you ask? You really have to bring that up, don’t you? Is it not enough that I’m still traumatized at the sight of Kai and a giant Barbie and their joined alliance of drowning me in an ocean of pink and purple confetti? There, you have it. Understand now, why I’d rather not speak of it?
Shall I continue now? Yes? Very well.
I deem it not necessary for me to elaborate how school was today. It was as mundane as it always was, but I think it might be that I was much too agitated to take heed of anything that happened in school. But wait! I remember something, actually, something memorable that took place somewhere in World History hour. I had had the vaguest idea of what Mizuhara-sensei was talking about until I noticed a sudden change of atmosphere, and I realized that Mizuhara-sensei had just asked a question. Everybody hadn’t been paying that much of an attention, just like me, so now we were all nervous as to whom Mizuhara-sensei was going to point her finger at. When her finger finally rose up, almost everyone heaved a relieved sigh, all except Tora.
Yes, she chose him, of all people.
I was expecting Tora to start fidgeting around and mumbling incomprehensible answers, a behavior that was habitual for him and showed up whenever he was nervous. But to my surprise, he didn’t show any sign of nervousness at all. And when I thought he would be muttering an “I don’t know, Sensei,” he actually sat up straight on his chair and answered smoothly: “Francis Ferdinand.”
I must have had a dumb look plastered on my face at that moment. It wasn’t until later on that I found out that the question had been “Whose murder triggered the First World War?” and as bizarre as it may seem, Tora had gotten the answer correct. While Mizuhara-sensei looked lucidly perturbed that her question-that she seemed to have expected not to be answered-had been answered accurately, the rest of class, I believe, were staring at Tora as if he had just grown an extra head from his shoulder… which, I doubt, would have been more shocking than to listen to him answering a question in World History.
However, once Tora explained to me later that he had learnt a lot of details about the First World War from a PC game that he had recently obtained, it all made perfect sense to me. Though I had no idea what game it was and how often exactly he had been playing it in daily basis, I was pretty happy that, for once, his hobby was of a good use for him.
Well, that was practically the only memorable event in school, and the rest of the day went by quite boringly. It’s disturbing, isn’t it, how a boring day will not end as quickly as you want it to? On the contrary, all good days end too swiftly for your liking. It’s just the way it is, I guess. One doesn’t live to be perfectly happy all the time, unless one has lost one’s mind and dwells in eternal Never-land.
When the bell finally rang, I knew I had never felt so relieved, at least not in the recent week. But I was too happy too soon, and I felt my blood rushing away from my face when Kai approached me, wearing his trademark sunshiny smile on his face (that has never failed to irritate me). Not another meeting, I whined inside my head; but that was obviously what Kai had in mind as he came nearer and nearer. I turned to Tora, asking for help, but then, before either of us could make any progress, someone showed up at the door, strutting confidently toward me: my savior.
This savior has a name, of course, and a funny button nose planted like a mushroom on his face. And he happens to be my brother. Yes, that’s right; with all his glory, Reita walked across the room and, without any preamble, grabbed my hand. And then, quite convincingly, he spoke to me: “Come, Ruki, our father needs us. He’s been calling your name last night in his critical hours.”
I swear to God I nearly panicked, right then and there. Why hadn’t anyone told me that Papa was sick?! And from the way Reita had told me, it sounded really bad. He couldn’t be dying, could he??
It wasn’t until I noticed the familiar, mischievous glint in Reita’s eyes that I realized it was all a plot-a very believable plot, at that. But, upon realizing the audience watching us, I held myself from punching Reita on the face and tagged along with his cruel little deception. It might be a ‘white lie’-as some people would call it-but it still was cruel.
“Yes, brother, let’s go. Can’t let our father waiting for too long,” I nodded, gripping his hand quite unnecessarily too tight; he winced, and I gripped even tighter.
Tora seemed to be genuinely worried. Of course he believed what Reita had said, him being oblivious to notice Reita’s impervious masquerade, and he asked if he must go with us. I had to tell him that it wasn’t necessary and that I would call him later to tell him the whole detail. And when I did call him late this afternoon and tell him what was truly going on, he approved my opinion that Reita could be a good actor when he wanted to. If only he could see this as a God given talent that he must put to good use, pursue a career in the line of acting, maybe, instead of using it to pull a scam on other people. But then I thought about the blood that runs through our arteries, the parents that gave us our DNA, and I couldn’t say that we weren’t born to be naturally heartless.
Alright, so I suppose Reita had saved me from the ultimate doom; he’s my knight in shining armor, so to say. It ruins my pride to say that I owe him this once for what he’s done: snatching me away from the hands of fate-those hands that would’ve surely dragged me and thrown me into that circle of Hell named core committee, had Reita not come to my rescue. Why not, I thought, Kai got a taste of his own medicine? I’d like to know how long he would last, surrounded by Aoyama and Komori, going through the very tedious discussion about the class stand. I deem it very amusing to imagine Kai being stuck in the midst of a debate about who should be Romeo and Juliet. If I am lucky enough, those girls would appoint Kai as the cursed little fairy godmother-he just exudes that fairy godmother-like aura, I think.
Oh wait. There isn’t any fairy godmother role in Romeo and Juliet, is there? Ah, how unfortunate.
Let me proceed, then.
The euphoria I felt from being able to escape Kai’s means of torture did not last long. Sitting on the passenger’s seat in Reita’s red mustang, I recalled once more the exact reason why I was there in the first place. I remembered that my curiosity had not been appeased, and that Reita hadn’t said a word relating to what was supposed to be our plan. We were just passing through the school’s gateway when I couldn’t hold it back anymore, and I gave up to my own whim and asked the question that had been bugging me the whole day through.
“What is going on here, Reita?”
Reita chuckled-yes, in that very annoying way of his; and it was all I could do to hold my fist from colliding against his lousy little nose.
“My dear brother, always the impatient one,” Reita shook his head, grinning. “You just can’t wait a minute bit longer, can you? I bet you’ve spent the whole day speculating, tormenting yourself with your own questions inside your pretty little head.”
I didn’t want to give him the pleasure of knowing that he was right, so I didn’t respond to his words, keeping my face expressionless before him.
“Oh I know you, Ruki, I know you far too well to not see through your poorly devised façade,” my brother spoke, and there’s the truth in what he said. But I would rather not admit that someone could read me like an open book, even though he was my own brother.
The car swerved to a right turn-I thought it weird; this wasn’t the normal way we usually took when going to Papa’s house. I was about to ask but then Reita spoke again.
“We’re making a short stop, just down this block. We can’t risk being seen in public…”
I had no idea what-or whom-he was talking about, until the car finally stopped right next to the sidewalk. Outside the window I saw a small restaurant; not exactly the kind of place Reita would go to if he wanted to eat-was that what Reita intended to do, stopping here, of all things, to eat? Ridiculous. But that mustn’t be it, because Reita didn’t get out of the car; instead, he pulled out his cell phone and started dialing numbers. In the next minute, I heard him informing someone that he was already at the place they-Reita and that person he was talking to-had agreed on.
From within the small restaurant, appeared a man-no, a boy; a school boy, according to the uniform he was wearing, a student from the very same high school I and Reita attend. My first thought was: this kid is so skinny; have his parents been feeding him at all? And then the kid approached the car, and once he was close enough that I could see the face under the light-brown curls of his hair… I gasped.
No wonder Reita said we couldn’t be seen in public! Not with this particular person, we couldn’t; our reputation would be ruined in a blink of an eye. Our lives would be history, a tragedy drowned in sea like Atlantis!
I turned to Reita and gave him what I hoped to be a condescending glare. What on earth was he doing, making contact with this kid?! Was he trying to bet our heads on the table? Was he trying to get us both expelled from school? Oh, that would definitely entertain Papa and Mama, and not to mention destroy my flawlessly planned future!
But Reita looked at me calmly; a very confident expression settled on his face, making me think that he had thought the whole thing through-and only later today that I found out that he actually had. “We are taking it to the extreme, are we not?” he said. “Saga is the most extreme means that one can think of, if one is looking for the most scandalous scandal. So…”
The end of Reita’s words trailed off, just in time when Saga, the lanky-figured boy, opened the back door of the car and sneaked his pretty, brown haired head in. I immediately lapsed into one of those rare moments in which I couldn’t find a word to say or think of anything to do.
Saga asked: “Which one of you two has called me?”
I think I may need to push the pause button here and break in with a brief intermezzo. I doubt that I have mentioned this kid, Saga, anywhere in any of my journal entries. It is not because I didn’t know him-oh I do know him; who doesn’t? You may ask every single student in school and they will all tell you they know him, what with the ‘occupation’ he does for a living, he has become quite famous over the few months.
You see, Saga is… well, how should I put it? There isn’t a way to sugarcoat it, I guess, and I can’t really find the synonym to the word ‘whore’ that doesn’t sound too vulgar. Yes, there you go: Saga is a whore. What else do you call a person who offers sexual favors for cash? It isn’t a rumor, believe me, and I am not exaggerating anything. Saga’s reputation rocketed quickly amongst students, especially the second year students such as myself, after an incident that happened at the beginning of the year, where the school bulletin exhibited a rather scandalous picture of the mentioned kid and a third year student-a male third year student, at that-together, involved in a… must I describe it? Let me just put it as something exceedingly improper and hardly appropriate for high school students to do-in the chemistry lab, of all places! Certainly the room gets very few visitors, if not none, but with all those hazardous chemical substances, and the horrid smell, how can one be in there and be sexually stimulated in anyway at all?!
I’m sorry, that was just me, thinking out loud.
And so, the story has it that someone, quite coincidentally, walked by the chemistry lab, carrying a camera phone in hand, and this someone felt obliged to take a snap shot of the rather steamy scene inside the lab. The next morning, the whole school went into a commotion as the pictures (of terrible quality, unfortunately, but clearly exposing the faces of the accused ones) were displayed so very lewdly on the bulletin. Kajiwara, the head of Journalist Club, refused to hold responsible once the School Board tried this as a ‘violation against morality in school’-or-something case. He was just trying to present the truth as it was, as he had mentioned in his defense, and the ones to be blamed for ‘violating morality’ were those two that were captured in the pictures.
Kajiwara had walked out free of charge. But what happened to Saga and the third year student?
Well, Saga didn’t get expelled, as you can see for yourself. The rumor has it that he’s still around because he has a pair of highly reputable parents and they had managed to shut the institution’s mouth with an obnoxious amount of money. But the third year student… he’s not that lucky. God only knows where he is now, after he got kicked out of school. Probably lifting concrete pillars to make a living…
Saga’s reputation has only become more and more appalling as the months went by. Of course, as Saga seemed to have learnt from his mistake, not many of the scandals were exposed, and I haven’t heard-or seen-anything that was as disastrous as that chemistry lab incident. But everyone knows. From one student to another, the news spread-like germs, if I may describe it that way. The worst of all is the rumor that Saga has even ‘entertained’ the Headmaster himself. This has never been proven, and I don’t think anyone has the guts to go around investigating it, unless they’re dying to get their names wiped out from the attendance book.
It’s odd to think that, during the first year, Saga was actually a quiet, shy kid. No, I am not making that up. We had been in the same class, you see, and he was nothing like the slut he is known as today. Something must’ve happened right after the second year started, but I have never been close enough with the kid to know the history of his life. Now that he has his awful reputation, I’d rather not start making acquaintances with him, if only to understand the reasons why he has chosen to be what he is today.
Okay, I think I’ve done quite a sufficient introduction of Saga. I’ve told you all I know about him. So now let’s return to the story at hand.
To answer Saga’s question, Reita nodded and smiled. “Come in and sit, and close the door, will you? My name is Reita,” he said, offering his hand as a friendly gesture. Saga shook it briefly. He also nodded at my direction, recognition clear in his eyes. To say that I was glad that he remembered me was a little off the mark; I didn’t know what to think now that Saga had changed so much from the kid I had known back in first year.
“I know you, Head of Student School Board,” Saga spoke to Reita, “I never thought that you, of all people, would require my… help.”
“Oh, I don’t require your help for myself personally, not in the way you meant, at least,” Reita replied a little too hastily. “But I do require you to help us in a bit risky matter.”
“How risky, exactly?”
It’s weird, I tell you. I felt like I had entered a surreal world; a world that existed in a movie about mafias and two of the deadly gangsters were now conspiratorially talking to each other, right before my eyes. Soon they would be sharing info about the killings and the drug dealing and before I knew it, someone would be sprawled dead, his mouth gagged… Well, at least that’s how the scene unraveled in my head.
“Well, actually…” Reita halted, rather dramatically, “we need exposure.”
Saga let out a sigh, and he slipped into a momentary silence. I believe he was calculating the ups and downs of this job we were offering him. Certainly, he would not want the same disaster to happen twice, although his parents might have the name and the financial support to save his neck yet again.
After ten seconds or so, Saga lifted his eyes and stared at us again. “Am I right to say that you will need me to frame someone?” he asked.
You’re dead right, boy.
“Correct,” Reita answered nonchalantly, “we need you to help us conjure an exposed, scandalous end of a person’s reputation.”
“I may be able to help you with that, but…” Saga paused for a moment, blinked, and then continued, “It’s going to cost a lot.”
“Name your price-oh, we will also need our names to be clean of this. No clue leading back to us whatsoever.”
“I understand,” Saga nodded. “Keeping your track spotless, aren’t you? Very well… 50.000¥ up front, the same amount after the job is done.”
I tried not to gasp, but I guess I failed. But you cannot blame me; me, the innocent boy who had never experienced being involved in an immoral transaction such as this!
Both Saga and Reita looked at me, amusedly, while I sank in my seat, trying to be invisible to no avail.
Reita talked again, before I could blow up from the discomfort of being scrutinized. “A fair price,” he said. “I haven’t expected less from you. Will you like it in cash or…?”
“Transfer it to my bank account, please. I hate carrying too much cash,” Saga said, waving his hand in distaste. I understood what he meant; try going to a mall carrying a purse full of yen bills and tell me how you feel. “I’ll text the numbers later to you,” he continued, “And who is our lucky boy… or girl?”
Reita laughed. “Our lucky boy is Kai.”
Saga’s brows arched onto his forehead. “Kai?” He shifted his sight to me-though I wished he didn’t, “Kai as in… Saint Kai?”
I felt my lips tightening to a straight line before I nodded. “Yes, Saint Kai,” I confirmed.
“This might not concern me, but why exactly do you need me to ruin Kai’s reputation? He’s not the kind of person whom I see as a threat to anyone’s life.”
“You’re right, this does not concern you,” Reita responded. “But to appease you, and because you have become our most important ally in this matter, I will explain anyways. You see, Kai is not really the saint, as you have put it just now. I find it disturbing that his saintly image has been too deeply printed in everyone’s minds. How deceived they all have been… Such a pity, isn’t it, my dear brother?”
“A pity, indeed,” I replied shortly.
“For a year already now, he’s been trying to demote me from my title, and to take over the position as the Head of Student School Board himself. Of course, no one ever knows the dirty things he has done in order to accomplish his goal; no one ever knows the hell he has put my poor brother into.”
I sighed, despite myself. Yes, the hell of being the only reachable, most probably victim of Kai’s deluded ambition. The cunning method that he used, using me as a way to aggravate my brother, was just utterly despicable. I felt, then in the car, it would be too long before I could witness Kai’s life shattering to pieces.
“I see,” Saga nodded in understanding, “it’s an effort to eliminate your competitor.” He laughed, “Pardon me, but I find it very interesting. I do not meet this side of the Head of the Student School Board everyday. Who would’ve guessed…?”
“Yes, who would’ve guessed?” Reita smiled. “But I don’t exactly go parading around this quality that I possess for everyone’s knowledge.”
Saga smirked. It seemed that the two gangsters had reached an agreement.
After a moment of Reita and Saga talking about deadline time (“There isn’t no deadline,” Reita said, “what matters is the ending: the more scandalous the better.”), I saw Saga nodding his head one last time and lifting his hand to shake both ours. The next thing I knew, he hopped out of the car and walked away, and the movie rolled right onto the irritating end where there was that line saying “to be continued” at the bottom of the screen.
Hmm… yes. An interesting afternoon, don’t you think?
Whatever happened afterward held no comparison to that rather thrilling experience I had gone through in the car, not even the heated discussion I had had with Reita after we had finished dinner (and after I had freed myself from Papa’s grip). We talked about a lot of things concerning this plan that we had devised, the risks we were bound to face-that even if Saga does keep his mouth shut, there is still the danger of Kai placing his suspicion on us. After all, who else in school hates him enough to come up with such a cruel plan, other than us?
It’s not just some unreasonable worries; we can never be too careful in a matter of this degree. Reita said he was going to use all his resources (and he has the resources worth of a yakuza leader, I must tell you) to make sure this plan would be carried out successfully, and we would walk out of all this unharmed and our good names untainted. His assurance calmed me, somewhat, but not even the people of our intelligence can predict what is going to happen.
I’ve been trying not to worry so much, and it’s a little bit too late to think it over now. The arrangements have been done; the whore has been booked. All we can do now is to wait for the outcome, face the consequence, whatever it may be.
You know, I feel a little sorry for Kai, seeing what kind of future he is bound to cope with. If our plan goes well, his reputation is seriously doomed, and he might as well be packing his stuffs, because there is certainly no school that will accept him after he is expelled from our high school-especially for such an undignified reason. His life is ruined, and I’m not saying that in a metaphorical sense.
But he should’ve thought twice about whom he chose to mess with.
Oh dear, Papa’s knocking on the door! What might he need from me? Not another piggyback ride, please, God…
Well, since I have to answer him and it is quite late already-Reita can’t stay in the garage the entire night-I guess I must end today’s entry here. I hate to think that it’s Friday tomorrow-or, in six minutes again, to be exact-and that I have a blasted appointment to fulfill… You might as well prepare yourself for another long, depressing entry tomorrow night.
Good night.
=============================
--- Post Entry ---
--- Log out of journal ---
=============================
A/N:
- Pray, do pray that the next chapter will come up soon, and the muses will cooperate without much protest! It's a terrible thing to have to chase them halfway around the world, though whipping them is kind of a fun thing to do (they seem to like it as well, how odd...).
- I hope you don't hate me for making Saga the way he is in the story. Saga has had his share of beating me up with a spoon. Yes, it hurts really bad.
- Okay, see you around, then :)
My
50stories AoiXRuki project list is
hereMy other fanfics list is
here