Rebellion

Stripping

Shiro felt comfortable in her house. It smelled and felt familiar. He sat on her couch, feeling oddly at home.

Satoko's lips pursed, which he didn't understand why.

"I hope people won't think I killed someone here." was everything she said.

He noticed what he did. He sat on the white sofa, making it have a bright red spot from blood. He blushed, feeling dumb about what he did. He immediately got up, feeling very embarrassed.

"Sorry!" He squeaked out.

"I don't know why my parents decided to have a white couch, but I always found it a dumb idea." Satoko said nonchalantly, pulling a blanket out of a nearby closet.

She put in on the dark red spot, covering it up completely.

"Now it's like it doesn't exist." Satoko dead panned and sat on the couch lazily.

"... But... It's still there." Shiro mumbled in confusion.

"If you don't see it, it's like it didn't happen." She concluded, getting her phone out.

She was spread on the entire couch. Even if he wanted to sit, he would barely have enough space to sit. It was obvious she was quite lazy with practical day to day things.

"But you saw it happen." Shiro continued without any particular reason other than to argue with her.

"If it bothers you so much, clean it yourself." Satoko simply replied, obviously not bothered by the stain.

He gave her a poker face. He let it go, but where was he supposed to sit anyway?

"Um, you said you'll clean my clothes?" Shiro asked, only realizing how awkward that sounded.

She'll probably slap him now, saying he's sexist. She's easily offended, he'll probably sleep in the streets today.

"Oh, right. Take your clothes off then." She answered him casually, much to his surprise.

It took a couple of seconds for it to sink in. He doesn't have anything to wear, and she's just casually asking him to strip. What the hell was she thinking?

"But... I have nothing to wear..." He looked down at the ground, trying to hide his bashfulness.

"Oh, yes, even better." Satoko grinned at him.

"But, I can't! You're a girl!" he felt as if though he was in high school again, but he noticed he didn't grow up much through the years anyway.

"Hey, it's either stripping in front of a girl or going home like that." Satoko looked like she was forcing herself to have a serious face, meanwhile her mouth looked like it was going in a grin without her wanting to.

He noticed this, but accidentally made eye contact with her, which made him look down immediately after.

"F-Fine..." he started to take his shirt off.

"Jeez, you actually took me seriously." Satoko rolled her eyes, her grin finally showing.

He felt even more stupid now. She was making fun of him the whole time. And to top it off, he didn't even notice. He was seriously too naive. He put his shirt down with a huff.

"So you're throwing me out?" Shiro asked her, trying to be cool.

"No, you dumbass. I'll give you my dad's clothes." She told him this as if it was obvious.

Because of that tone he felt as if though he should've known that. Which he should've at least expected. Why was he so easily confused?

"Oh... I knew that." This became his usual sentence, for he could not come up with anything better in these situations.

Satoko rolled her eyes. It was such a dumb sentence he always used. She was always so rude and sour. But oddly, it kind of attracted him. He never really liked the kind and shy ones. He always did like the ones who were a bit out of the norm, a bit feisty so to say. He really wanted to learn more about her. He knew there was more behind this person that just that cold persona.

"Follow me, Whitey." She told him and motioned him to follow her.

He did so, albeit very awkwardly and robotically. They went upstairs to a room with white doors. She seemed a bit hesitant to open the doors.

"You okay?" He asked instinctively.

"No, I'm too weak to open a doorknob. Help me, strong male." She answered sarcastically as she opened the doorknob.

The room had a bed for two, and a lot of pictures. The pictures consisted of a black haired man with dark brown eyes around his forties, supposedly his wife who had short brown hair and light brown eyes and in the middle of the two was a little child. The child was black haired and messy, her eyes light brown and her skin pale. She had a bright smile, uncharacteristic to the person who she was now. Shiro wasn't surprised. He knew what happened to her. The demon attack must've messed her up... Her parents too. They were probably dead.

He looked at the girl, understanding why she was hesitant. The room was dusty as all hell. It looked like she didn't even enter this room at all. But he questioned how she even lived here when she told him she lived with the Setsuko family. Did she move here? He saw something new in her. Some sort of sensitivity. Of course, even someone as cold looking as her had some soft spots.

Satoko opened the closet, pulling out a very old looking flannel. She looked at it, a sad smile on her face. After that she pulled out a pair of jeans. They all looked like something an old person would wear, since it was just that.

"You play piano?" Shiro asked her as she turned around.

"Looking at the pictures, huh?" She asked him, her voice oddly soft and calm.

"Yes, but the huge ass piano in the living room was enough of a clue as well." He remarked.

"Ah, yeah, I play... Played it." She corrected herself.

It looked like she got caught up in the past for a bit. All of her usual characteristics were lost, and she was just very calm and serene. As if this room had a special effect on her.

"Why don't you anymore?" He questioned her.

"I never really enjoyed it in the first place." She answered, a misty look in her eyes.

She went outside, motioning him to follow her again. But he couldn't stop thinking about her disliking playing piano. He couldn't believe she didn't enjoy it. The pictures had her with medals on piano competitions with nothing lower than second place. How could she be so talented yet dislike it? He only wished he could be talented at something so complicated.

"Put this on." She threw him the clothes.

He looked at the clothes. He was very hesitant.

"Are you sure I can wear this?" He asked her, not really sure about this.

"I'm sure my dad wouldn't mind. It'll be clean when he comes back." She said, her voice giving off something he never heard from her before.

It was hope. Pained hope, but still hope. He couldn't break that.

"I'll help you clean it." He smiled to her.

"Rather clean yourself first, Whitey." She opened the bathroom door, her voice slowly starting to sound like her normal self.

"Oh, okay, I will." He said awkwardly, sad they had to break up this lovely conversation.

"You're sleeping in my parent's room. When you're done you can come down stairs if you need something. But rather rest up." She said, her voice causal as ever.

He nodded and went in the bathroom. It made him happy how she didn't make him sleep on the couch. It showed she cared, even if it was in that retarded way.