"Eh? You're coming with me?"
Kousen, having caught up to Sanae only a few minutes later, nodded.
"I decided that following you to your school would be an excellent way to
continue learning about your time. Besides, I must admit that I'm curious about
what your school is like, since I've never been to one."
"You've never been to school?" repeated Sanae, surprised.
"Then how did you learn to do math and stuff?"
"I don't know," admitted the youkai, shrugging her shoulders.
"I must have had some sort of
education, but I don't remember what exactly."
"How could you not remember going to school?" asked Sanae.
"It's either the worst time of your life, or the only time you'll ever be
an anime protagonist! Or it could be both, I guess, depending on what anime you
end up in…"
"I'm thousands of years old, remember," Kousen pointed out.
"The first few hundred years of my life are all just a blur now."
"I guess immortality has its downsides, huh?" Sanae remarked,
before pausing for a moment, looking suddenly pensive. "Wow, this got
really deep all of a sudden. Should I go fall over or something to lighten the
mood?"
"That won't be necessary," said Kousen, "although you are
about to walk into a lamp-post."
"What do you mean I'm about to walk into a-" CLANG. Sanae, who
had been looking at Kousen the whole time and not at where she was going, had
indeed just walked head-first into a lamp-post. She staggered back, wincing and
limping slightly. "Ow. Ow. My legs. Ow."
"And the universal balance is restored," remarked Kousen
drily.
***
[some school stuff happens, then...]
***
"I'm home!"
Amaya's greeting fell on deaf ears, as it had every day for years now. It wasn't that there was nobody there to hear it; it was that the only other person in the house was far too preoccupied to do so. Amaya's eyes shifted from her unresponsive mother to the TV, and the console plugged into it. Her gaze grew disdainful.
"I'd tell you how my day went," Amaya continued in an annoyed tone, kicking her shoes off, "but I doubt you're even aware I'm standing here right now, are you?"
No response, only the continued tapping of the buttons on the controller, and the sounds of the game on the TV.
"Mom, please", said Amaya, in a softer, more hurt tone. "You can't just spend your whole life playing video games, and ignoring everyone and everything around you. That's why Dad walked out, because he couldn't take being ignored any more, and neither can I! You're wasting your life, just like the fat neckbeards who watch this show! Can't you see that?"
Still no response. It was no use. Amaya could run in front of the TV shouting at the top of her lungs, and her mother would simply shift positions so she could see the screen again. Nothing registered but the feedback from the monitor. Only when her bodily needs began impacting her gameplay did she finally stop to eat, rest, go to the bathroom or whatever else she needed to do, resuming gameplay as soon as she could. It had been like this for years now. Amaya knew it well, but this had been a good opportunity for an expository monologue, cluing the readers into her situation.
Amaya reluctantly trudged upstairs to her room and put her rucksack away. As she changed out of her school uniform, she reflected bitterly on her situation.
It's not fair, she thought. Everyone else's parents pay attention to them. Everyone else's parents care, but not mine. All my mom cares about are her stupid video games. Even my dad doesn't really care about me: if he did, he would've taken me with him when he walked out. The only person who really cares about me is Sanae. She sighed heavily. Sanae... her parents may be gone most of the time, but at least they actually come home when they can and spend time with her. My parents don't even do that. Amaya positioned a black beret on her head. I wish, just once, people would pay attention to me.
Amaya's greeting fell on deaf ears, as it had every day for years now. It wasn't that there was nobody there to hear it; it was that the only other person in the house was far too preoccupied to do so. Amaya's eyes shifted from her unresponsive mother to the TV, and the console plugged into it. Her gaze grew disdainful.
"I'd tell you how my day went," Amaya continued in an annoyed tone, kicking her shoes off, "but I doubt you're even aware I'm standing here right now, are you?"
No response, only the continued tapping of the buttons on the controller, and the sounds of the game on the TV.
"Mom, please", said Amaya, in a softer, more hurt tone. "You can't just spend your whole life playing video games, and ignoring everyone and everything around you. That's why Dad walked out, because he couldn't take being ignored any more, and neither can I! You're wasting your life, just like the fat neckbeards who watch this show! Can't you see that?"
Still no response. It was no use. Amaya could run in front of the TV shouting at the top of her lungs, and her mother would simply shift positions so she could see the screen again. Nothing registered but the feedback from the monitor. Only when her bodily needs began impacting her gameplay did she finally stop to eat, rest, go to the bathroom or whatever else she needed to do, resuming gameplay as soon as she could. It had been like this for years now. Amaya knew it well, but this had been a good opportunity for an expository monologue, cluing the readers into her situation.
Amaya reluctantly trudged upstairs to her room and put her rucksack away. As she changed out of her school uniform, she reflected bitterly on her situation.
It's not fair, she thought. Everyone else's parents pay attention to them. Everyone else's parents care, but not mine. All my mom cares about are her stupid video games. Even my dad doesn't really care about me: if he did, he would've taken me with him when he walked out. The only person who really cares about me is Sanae. She sighed heavily. Sanae... her parents may be gone most of the time, but at least they actually come home when they can and spend time with her. My parents don't even do that. Amaya positioned a black beret on her head. I wish, just once, people would pay attention to me.
Now dressed for her walk, and unaware of the plot element she had just foreshadowed, Amaya left the house. Her mother continued playing, unaware that her daughter had ever entered the house at all.
***
It had become a habit for Amaya to wander the junkyard once she had come home from school and changed. There was no point in her staying at home, with nothing to do and no-one to talk to. Out in the junkyard, she almost felt more at home than at her house.
Everything here is discarded, she thought. Unwanted. Kinda like me. Amaya smiled suddenly. Damn, this is getting heavy for a story that's supposed to be a comedy. Maybe I should fall over or something. People like physical comedy.
Before Amaya could find something suitable to trip over, something dark glinted in the corner of her eye, catching her attention amid the dull rusts and peeling paints. Amaya turned back, heading towards the abnormally shiny object.
It was a black, circular object about four inches in diameter, partially embedded in the junk. It had been carved into a perfect five-pointed star, with a thin circle around the rim, enveloping the points. It seemed unnaturally shiny and new-looking for something found in a junkyard; Amaya could see her face reflected in it. Amaya wondered what it was, and how it came to be here; it looked exceedingly out of place amongst the piles of rusting machinery.
Maybe this would make a good wall decoration or something, thought Amaya. She took the object in one hand, and tried to pull it free of the junkpile. It seemed to be stuck; it wouldn't move no matter how hard she pulled. Amaya grabbed the object with both hands and pulled ferociously. "Come on, you stupid piece of-"
CLUNK. The object slid free of the junkpile, and Amaya's momentum sent
her flying backwards into the opposite pile. Amaya fell to the floor, dazed.
Once her head had cleared, Amaya suddenly realized that she was no
longer wearing the clothes she had been wearing when she stepped outside. Her
sneakers had been morphed into black high heels whose straps wound up her
shins. Her shirt and jeans had become a black minidress with white frills,
exposing her pale legs; her jacket was gone. Even her hair seemed to have
changed; her previously neatly-parted fringe had now been swept downwards over
her right eye, partially obscuring her vision. Her beret had morphed into a
witch's hat.
The strange star-shaped object was still in her hand, only now it has morphed into a long black rod-shaped object. A strange energy seemed to be flowing from the object into her body, filling her with a mysterious sensation like nothing she'd ever felt before. It was almost like magic. Could this be a…
"A magic wand?"
Startled, Amaya scrambled to her feet, looking around frantically for the source of the voice. Who said that? she thought. That wasn't the narrator. What's going on?
"I just told you, nyaa~. Magic. Or at least, that's what you'd call it, nyaa~"
Amaya jumped about six inches in the air, and found to her horror that she did not come back down again. When she finally tore her eyes away from the ground hovering beneath her feet, she finally spotted the source of the mysterious voice: perched on top of the junk pile in front of her was a strange-looking woman in a black dress. She seemed to have fangs, and... were those demon wings sticking out of her back?
"Why, yes, I suppose they are." said the strange woman, throwing a glance at her wings, as though she had just read Amaya's thoughts. "And yes, I am reading your thoughts, nyaa~. Sorry if it creeps you out, but it's a natural ability, I can't help doing it, nyaa~"
Until now Amaya had simply stared disbelievingly at the strange woman on the junkpile, but now she finally found her voice. "Wh... what are you?"
"What am I?" The question seemed to surprise the winged lady. "Why, I'm a youkai, of course. Don't tell me you've never seen a youkai before, nyaa~"
"Well... no, I haven't." replied Amaya. "I thought youkai were only a myth."
The strange winged woman - or youkai - frowned, crossing her arms. "I must have been in there longer than I thought, nyaa~. What year is this?"
"2013... I mean, 2015. Stupid writer, taking forever to write his shows… speaking of which, what the heck is going on here?" asked Amaya. "Who exactly are you? And what is this thing?" She held out the black wand-like object.
The youkai smiled, a fang poking out from between her thin lips. "Allow me to explain, nyaa~. But first, I'm starving. Could I get a bite to eat, nyaa~?"
The strange star-shaped object was still in her hand, only now it has morphed into a long black rod-shaped object. A strange energy seemed to be flowing from the object into her body, filling her with a mysterious sensation like nothing she'd ever felt before. It was almost like magic. Could this be a…
"A magic wand?"
Startled, Amaya scrambled to her feet, looking around frantically for the source of the voice. Who said that? she thought. That wasn't the narrator. What's going on?
"I just told you, nyaa~. Magic. Or at least, that's what you'd call it, nyaa~"
Amaya jumped about six inches in the air, and found to her horror that she did not come back down again. When she finally tore her eyes away from the ground hovering beneath her feet, she finally spotted the source of the mysterious voice: perched on top of the junk pile in front of her was a strange-looking woman in a black dress. She seemed to have fangs, and... were those demon wings sticking out of her back?
"Why, yes, I suppose they are." said the strange woman, throwing a glance at her wings, as though she had just read Amaya's thoughts. "And yes, I am reading your thoughts, nyaa~. Sorry if it creeps you out, but it's a natural ability, I can't help doing it, nyaa~"
Until now Amaya had simply stared disbelievingly at the strange woman on the junkpile, but now she finally found her voice. "Wh... what are you?"
"What am I?" The question seemed to surprise the winged lady. "Why, I'm a youkai, of course. Don't tell me you've never seen a youkai before, nyaa~"
"Well... no, I haven't." replied Amaya. "I thought youkai were only a myth."
The strange winged woman - or youkai - frowned, crossing her arms. "I must have been in there longer than I thought, nyaa~. What year is this?"
"2013... I mean, 2015. Stupid writer, taking forever to write his shows… speaking of which, what the heck is going on here?" asked Amaya. "Who exactly are you? And what is this thing?" She held out the black wand-like object.
The youkai smiled, a fang poking out from between her thin lips. "Allow me to explain, nyaa~. But first, I'm starving. Could I get a bite to eat, nyaa~?"
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