Netsu no Koi

Chapter One: Good-Bye, New York

A/N: All characters, plot lines, etc. are mine. You may not use without permission. If it just happens to be in-synch with real life events, it’s pure coincidence. Here we go!

I stood in my room, glancing around at the dark red walls, clothed thickly with posters of my favorite bands and singers. My bookshelves were jammed with games, movies, lots of manga, giant tomes of fiction and picture frames of the memories crammed together. I stole a quick look at my desk, overflowing in a sea of scribbled looseleaf, CDs and pens, my Alienware laptop, camera, cell phone and iPod touch drowned in the mess. My eyes scanned the room and fell on the overflowing closet of clothes my style.

I blinked.

Suddenly, everything disappeared, leaving the room disturbingly empty. It was all gone, packed in boxes in some shipment plane on its way to Tokyo. Kai—the skater contrast to his younger sister—and I are moving to Japan to live with Dad, the big corporate owner of Tsuki Industries.

The both of us now know why our mother, Mai Lin, had been sending us to Chinese and Japanese lessons. What kind of woman would take the bulk of her salary and spend it all for herself? You might think if she’s a fashion designer then we should have a good life. All her money’s for her ONLY. Only a microscopic portion is dedicated to us. The rest is spent on her liquor, dramas with crappy storylines, and cigarettes.

“Kirina!” my mom yelled from downstairs of the house. “Quickly!”

I suppressed the urge to yell, “Shut up,” down the stairs.

I gave my empty room one last forlorn look. I grabbed my bag, careful not to smash it against anything as my survival stuff was there, and stumped down.

Kai was in the kitchen, looking sullen. I gave a twitchy wave as I sat next to him. He jerked his chin at me.

I pulled on my hoodie. She looked absolutely ecstatic as she paced around with a giant smile.

“You guys ready?” she said, a huge smile on her Botox soaked face.

Kai and I glared at her venomously, the poison which see didn’t seem to notice. When she turned around, I flipped her off. Kai gave a quiet snicker.

An impatient honking of a car horn in perfect match of an annoyed taxi driver was heard outside.

“Oh, it’s here!” she shrieked, flailing her arms in the air a girl at a superstar concert would.

Kai and I looked at each other and said in unison, “Joy.”

Sarcasm, obviously. We both gathered our bags and pressed into the minitaxi.

Goodbye, New York. No more Hot Topic. No more weekly get-togethers at the Starbucks down the street. No more random band-gatherings in our garage. No more of that.

I fingered the black and red lanyard Jin made for me and glanced at the picture behind my cell phone—seven faces all grinning like idiots into the camera.

I sighed and felt my eyes sting a bit. I squeezed them shut.

Kai seemed to notice this and patted my head. Mai probably saw what just happened in the rearview mirror and turned around.

“You’re kidding me,” she whispered. “Are you crying? This is going to be—”

“Fun for the both of us?!” Kai and I burst.

After a furtive glance at us, the taxi driver was deftly ignoring our conversation.

“The only thing you’ve ever done is abandon us! You were never there for us!”

“I devoted most of my time provi—”

“Oh please,” I muttered darkly, pulling my hood over my face.

“Don’t even start, you freak,” Kai said, seriously pissed. “This wasn’t our choice. You’re ditching us for him, and goddammit, don’t you even try to pretend that you’re our mother, ‘cause we don’t have one!”

And with that, Kai leaned back on the seat, shoving his headphones in his ears and playing music at max. Mai was about to have a retort, but Kai's words had its impact. She turned back around with a confused look. I stayed silent, staring out as cars zoomed in and out under the gloomy sky and listening to Ville Valo croon, “I’m killing loneliness with you…”

The ride to JFK was disgustingly fast. Mom tried to hug us but we just pushed her away. Kai muttered, “Don’t, you stink.” I shot back, “Don’t touch me.” And we left with bitter satisfaction of seeing her face, contorted with pain and hurt.

It was a five-hour flight to Los Angeles and then a ten hour flight to Tokyo. We passed the time playing endless routines of poker, Texas Hold ‘Em and Spit, nearly snapping off the table tray. After our hands and fingers were red and sore—and after a harsh reprimand from the flight attendant—we drifted off into a calm sleep, iPods blaring in our ears. It was then a thirty minute ride on the Tokyo densha to Akasakabashi and then Dad drives us home.

I constantly told myself as we arrived at the station—only two years. Two years of this and we’ll be free. Two years of being cut off from the American world and we’ll be free. My face must have looked very grim, as Kai gave me a rough dig into my ribs.

Dad was the most recognizable—heavyset, buzz cut, with his trademark Versace suit, standing at the top of the stairs waiting for us. Almost like a guard or a CIA agent. His eyes crinkled as he smiled at us.

“You guys are looking good!” he said, giving us hugs. He took two of my bags and one of Kai’s and stuck them into the trunk of his black Toyota. They fit pretty well, thanks to the Spacebags Arnica’s mom gave to me as a gift two Christmases ago.

Once we were on our way on the highway, Dad said, “Good flight?”

“It was alright,” I said, brushing some hair out of my eyes.

“Good to hear,” Dad said with a smile.

“So… Anything new with you?” Kai asked. He always liked Dad more.

“Not much,” he replied, making a U-turn. I caught a small glimpse of Shinjuku, the entertainment district. At least it won’t be total hell here. “We’ve made a very nice production of microprocessors.”

“That’s great.”

Dad chattered away about the technology of it, but neither of us paid attention. We made sounds of comprehensions at his pauses.

I had forgotten how big the place was—he lived in the nice, rich people neighborhoods. It wasn’t too big, but it was two floors, not including the attic, with a flat roof and a large, spacious backyard. The garage was huge also—it was like a log cabin in the country side.

We went in and took off our shoes in the foyer. Most of our stuff was there already—since the boxes were opened up, we assumed that Dad helped us unload everything. Or at least, everything was in our rooms. We both got rooms in the far sides of the second floor, and you can just see the tip of Tokyo Tower.

My room was a beautiful, dark midnight gray, and my black and red bed was pushed to face the two huge windows, cloaked with the black curtains. The floors were a warm, dark mahogany. My desk was pushed into the corner, facing the door. Next to my desk was a large bookshelf. There was a huge, towering redwood closet in the far, right corner of the room. Then, there was a small shelf thingy that was my vanity. I turned around to see a stack of boxes—my books and posters. I sighed and began unpacking, sticking my books in the shelves randomly, throwing lotions and eyeliner pens into the drawers, and then started tacking up my posters of bands, anime, etc. Afterwards, I tossed myself into the plushie bean sack in the corner and pulled my hoodie, giving myself some breathing room. As I plopped down, I noticed a small shoebox that was almost crushed by my weight. I pulled out whatever was in the box and almost blinded it since it reflected the light—it was the parts of my Baby Desert Eagle! So the vile woman did send it over. Maybe she sent over my targets too? I began to search for the ammo, which were in the desk drawer.

I threw everything on my desk and began assembling it, once again, acting like a five year old with her first jigsaw puzzle. After finally putting in the last screw and loading the last pellet, I cocked my gun and aimed it at the door, the same time when Kai stepped in, eating an apple. Smirking, I took deadly sniper aim and pulled the trigger. The round orange bean exploded out with the power of four hundred feet per second and deftly imbedded itself into the apple. Green smoke fizzed out of the barrel.

Kai chewed his apple, glaring at me.

“Very nice.”

I gave a light laugh.

“Did she send my gun?”

“I don’t know. I assume she did if she sent me mine.”

He shrugged. I bet he was going to find Dad to ask him.

I stowed my gun in my drawer and locked it. I decided to go up to the roof and get some fresh air after several hours of unpacking. I could avoid the attic since there was a ladder that led directly up to the flat roof.

It wasn’t particularly windy up there, but it was still blustery. There were raised walls to keep the viewers from falling off. I spotted Tokyo Tower all the way out in the city. And indeed, I found my targets folded in the corner of the roof. I propped them up, easel style, and took a few steps back. I contemplated on bringing my gun up here and shooting off a few rounds. But the sky suddenly darkened and a light scent of rain could be discerned. I did feel a few drops fall on my head. I ran to the target, plucked out the BB pellet out of the rubber target, folded it down and placed it in a corner. I dashed to the trapdoor just as Kai burst out of it, clutching his sack of pellets and batteries. He looked at me with dismay.

“Huh?”

“It’s gonna rain.”

“So what?”

“I’m gonna laugh at you, take pictures and tack ‘em all over Myspace and Facebook.”

Kai’s lip twitched. Suddenly, randomly, he burst out, “You’re a moron!” And ran back downstairs.

Sometimes, I think I’m the older one.

“Guys!” dad called. “Dinner!”

I glanced at my watch—7:30 PM. I dashed off to the dining room and slid on the marble tiles to land neatly in front of the dinner table. On it were various plates of food—sushi, sashimi, rice, seasoned shrimp, chicken tempura, and a giant pot of delicious smelling miso soup. On the left was a glass of Mountain Dew and the other was a cup of grape soda. I felt my mouth salivate. Dad has an owning memory.

“Smells good,” Kai said, skipping three steps at a time.

Dad came back out from the kitchen, wiping his hands and taking his seat at the head of the table. Kai sat down, eyeing the grape soda greedily and I stared at the neon-green liquid in my cup with voracity.

At the same time, the three of us clasped our hands together, our metal chopsticks balanced across our palms and called out, “Itadakimasu!”

I attacked the seasoned shrimp and Kai dug into the miso soup. The food was delicious. Sushi had more flavor in it than the Okinawa restaurant on Bell Boulevard and the miso soup was better than Zutto in Great Neck. And the white rice was the best—not mushy and gooey the way she did it but dry and beady like it is supposed to be. Dad could really cook well.

When we were about finished—Kai and I were shoving our faces in watermelon and kiwi—Dad said, “Ah, right! I forgot to mention something!”

We both glanced up, blinking out seeds from our eyes.

“I went to the school today,” he said calmly, eating a piece of orange. “I picked up your schedules and uniforms—?”

I heard myself shriek, wipe my face and ran up the stairs. Kai did this odd sputtering sound that sounded like a plunger unclogging a toilet and clambered over chairs.

When I arrived at my room, there was a box and a manila folder on my bed. Dad had to have already gone to the school earlier—I just left my room for an hour and all this was here.

I tore off the lid to be greeted with a black sailor top, trimmed white on the cuffs and a red scarf. I pulled and laid it out next to the box. Next was a black skirt, pleated. I held it up to my body to measure it—it fell right above my knees. At least I can wear my demonia boots now.

Below that was a black blazer, embossed with the words Kazuya High on the left lapel. Then it was some white dress shirts, some red ties, more sailor tops and skirts. I had a black uniform. Excellence. With Kai… probably not. He let out a howl downstairs. I ran over to the other end to see what he got.

In fact, his room was exactly the same as the house in Bayside—bed was in the same position, posters in the exact same position and a pile of clothes in a corner… whatever. He was kneeling by the bed, looking sort of agitated and annoyed. He was holding red uniforms.

I snickered. Kai glared at me.

“And what did you get?” he snarled.

“Black uniforms. I think you can go change the colors though. Not my fault you’re in love with red.”

Kai snarled again.

“I’m gonna ask Dad for him to change this…”

Kai left and I went back to my room, still snickering a bit. I pulled out everything in the manila folder—inside was a homework pad, elaborately decorated, calendars for this month—October—as well as the school map, regulations and my schedule.

The school was divided into different sectors—first, second and third year halls. Being in Japan, there are only three years of high school. So that means, first year is tenth grade. Joy. Now I'm a freshman again. I thought it wasn't possible for things like that to happen twice.

There was a library for each hall and from the map, it looked pretty big. The cafeteria was on the top floor out of ten, which spilled out to the roof. The three gyms were on the first floor. In addition, there were track and soccer fields outside the school with some tennis courts as well.

My schedule wasn’t the most exciting thing in the world. My classes were English, Math B, Biology, Law, gym and a free period at the end of the day. Unfortunately, you’re not allowed to leave until 2:30. Aside from that, it was an okay schedule. The only problem was to see what the teachers are like.

Next were the textbooks, which were relatively small. Math B, law, Bio and Grammar textbooks were about the size of a small paperback book a few hundred pages long. But oh God. The font was so tiny.

I glanced at my watch again—10:30 PM. I need to get to school by 8 AM. That’s fine. According to a metro map, I could catch the 7:32 train to the Shibuya district and walk to school. A total of twenty minutes.

I began to pack my black Death Note bag—wallet, binder, a notebook, a graphing calculator, dictionary and writing utensils. I stuffed my student ID in my wallet before I jumped in bed, wearing a tank top and boxers.

School’s tomorrow, I thought, dozing off.

But before I drifted away, an uneasy though crossed my mind—new friends, new enemies.

A/N: There we go. My first attempt of an original story. In fact, my first attempt of writing anything after MONTHS of author’s block. And guys, I know that high schools in Japan are different from here. But I have my reasons for making it US-oriented. R and R, thanks.

Edit: Okay, to make things easier, I decided to change back to original Japanese education style--three years of high school, rather than the American way of four years of high school. I thought about it for a while and I figured it shouldn't change too much in the story.