DARK RED ‣ d. osamu

O1.

   A PLEASANT SUNNY DAY in yokohama, where the clouds had evaporated along with any signs of rainy, cloudy, or snowy weather. a certain future someone was wishing that on this day, she had turned away from the frantic brunette on the street who was with his parents. the clatter of footsteps on the smoothened pavement and the chatter on the streets made yokohama lively. oblivious she was, to the dangers in this city.

   she stopped. her parents looked at her curiously. "what a homely child," her mother commented, a little concerned. that comment was directed to the curly-haired brunette standing on the sidewalk, waiting for his parents to stop flirting with one another. he was swathed in formal wear and bandages; covering half his face, his arms, and neck. in fact, his entire body except for his hands and feet seemed to be covered in bandages. 'homely child'? yeah right.

   this little boy wasn't even considered homely. in her mind, she considered him as a walking, breathing, zack foster in real life. please don't ask why she's watched angels of death at such a young age. her mother and father were fans of it.

"hey," she said, strutting up to him after mustering up her courage. at a young age, she was already full of herself—a cover-up for the empty, humanless shell she was. her parents teased her numerous times by saying, "seven years old and you carry yourself like queen victoria's doppelganger."

not that she looked like queen victoria.

"why are you in bandages?"

the boy didn't reply.

   "okay, don't respond then, zack foster wannabe." she turned away with a high and mighty catwalk—not really—and was soon beside her parents, huddled into their clothes.

   the bandage-covered boy glared at her before he left with his parents, walking the other way. he'd remember this day for decades to come.

damn, i was foolish. of course, he'd remember that!

   she banged her fist on the table, alerting everyone in the classroom. her classmates and her teacher. "[name]!" the teacher yelled. "stop your daydreams and please, control yourself."

   [name] stared in a manner of sly embarrassment. "sorry, teacher. won't do so again!" her words rang out melodiously. she tilted her head back and chuckled playfully.

   the rest of the lesson went out in success, quick, too, like a candle aflame a hunk of metal. fourteen years old and the teen was already losing her mind. did they have to make these lessons so boring? i can barely focus.

the calm before the storm.

   a metaphor used many times by others, though this one may be quite literal. in no time, the cloudy weather started to dissipate and a drop of rain fell from the skies. only she noticed this change. [name] raised her hand to alert the teacher. "it's raining."

   "very nice, [name]. now, kindly, get back to work."

   after the teacher's phrase, the class rang out in laughter. the teacher's face was contorted into a concerned expression, not understanding the inside joke. [name] had to stifle her laugh. with a silent sigh, she returned to the essay given out by her teacher.

   the task was to look for errors and point them out, and also to explain the reason it was an error. her mind getting hazy, the only thing she noticed was the last sentence scribed into the paper before her brain shut off and her eyes fell asleep.