Netsu no Koi

Chapter Seven: Friday Night

A/N: Wow, okay. So, the last time I updated this story was December ’08. I haven’t touched this for almost seven months. For that, I am SO sorry. Like, RIDICULOUSLY sorry. I’ll be a junior in high school and then I probably won’t be able to write at all. All this time, I didn’t write anything. At all. Life gets chaotic, but hey, at least I updated now. So enjoy! And please R&R!

I cracked my neck and stretch my arms, trying not to lose my balance on the skateboard. My whole body ached. I had fallen on my ass three times in a row, all from a very high place. When I was doing a kick-flip, I twisted my finger, almost sprained my ankle when I was doing a three-sixty and almost lost my manhood doing a railslide. I shuddered and tried to get the image of my precious jewels shattering out of my head.

“Doushita?” a tired but sturdy voice said next to me.

I glanced to my left. A short, petite girl was next to me, also on a board. A black baseball cap was balanced on her head sideways. Her orange streaked hair poked out in random spots. There was dust on her red t-shirt. There was a long scrape on her cheek. Her eyes were dull with exhaustion.

Kitani Fujiyoshi. One of the girls in my class-and whom I allegedly stabbed with a pencil. Surprisingly, she lived within a five block radius, but she always took a car to this quiet, peaceful Friday night, she invited me to go skating at Yoyogi with her peeps.

“Nothing,” I said, yawning. “I’m just tired. And in pain.”

She gave a pleasant laugh—it had a nice ring to it.

“Aren’t we all?”

“Hey, hey,” I growled. “You weren’t the one who was about to lose something precious.”

She stared at me incredulously for a moment and burst out laughing, grabbing my arm when she was about to trip. The strength of her grip was jarring. Her feet left the board and her weight was pushing on me. I wobbled on my board before finally toppling forward and falling onto someone’s lawn. I hear my skateboard roll away and hit Kitani’s before smacking my head on the ground for the second time that day.

“Aa, gomen!”I heard Kitani shriek.

I blinked several times to get the starry lights out of my eyes. Concussion much? My vision refocused to see Kitani’s face hovering directly over mine, her eyebrows knit together in an upwards V.

“Are you okay?” she stammered as she helped me up.

“Yeah, I’m fi—”

“Whoa, Fujiyoshi-san!” a smug voice of a girl drawled close by. “You already can’t get your own boyfriend. Are you really that desperate to get laid?”

These immature words rolled out of a girl’s tongue with suave grace. I disregarded the angry throb screeching at my scalp and turned around.I gagged one whatever I was going to say ‘cause one of the most preposterously beautiful girls was right before my eyes. Shiny jet-black hair was straight to her waist with short bangs covering her forehead. Her thin, red lips were curved in a smile and her deep, narrow burgundy eyes had a cruel shine. She had a light tan, which accentuated the red blazer she wore under a long coat. She seemed to be from my class, the quiet girl in the back of the room. And all of a sudden she's turned into this little... I won't say it.

Her eyes came to rest on me. Her smile widened into a cocky smirk.

“Ne, Dojima-san, shouldn’t you be surrounded by your usual crew of bubblegum girls?” Kitani sneered back. “After all, you can’t really take on newcomers in the school alone.”

Whoa. She was snappish enough to be my sister.

The girl named Dojima grinned, revealing even, white teeth that reflected the blue moonlight. She was starting to get a little scary.

“Intimidation tactics. So they’ll know who to not to mess with.”

Kitani stepped forward and seemed to have immediately forgotten I was there.

“They wouldn’t have anyone to mess with if you didn’t start up first.”

Dojima merely smiled. She looked at me sideways before turning her face towards me directly.

“Yoroshiku.O-namae wa?”

I blanked a little after realizing this extremely hot chick was talking to me.

“Tsukiyomi Kai.”

“Then, Tsukiyomi-san, I suggest you stay away from her. If you haven’t noticed already—”

“Dojima, back off," Kitani snarled. "Isn’t it enough that you have to impose your presence on people?”

Her smile widened into a grin again.

“I’m not the one falling on top of people to get some hot ass,” she countered, her eyes twitching towards again.

Evidently satisfied at Kitani’s infuriated face, she pushed past us, but not before giving me the eye one last time.

“Stupid bitch,” Kitani muttered, glaring at her back when we walked over to the boards.

“Who was that?”I asked, staring after the girl.

“Dojima Mizumi," Kitani hissed, hoisting her board in her hand--she was probably calibrating the distance from where we stood and Dojima. "A senior at Kazuya. She wasn't even that popular until seventh grade, the year she hit her puberty. Rumor has it was that she screwed a tenth grader and that started"--Kitani snorted--"the 'Reign of Mizi-chan.' Afterwards, she got a devoted following of girls that 'want to be just like her!'" she finished with a girly voice often associated with blonde cheerleaders.

I gave a mild laugh, pushing on my skateboard at a mild pace. Kitani put down her board and skated next to me.

"Makes me sick to my stomach... Anyway... How's your head?"

The throbbing was going down a bit, leaving a moderate ache.

"It's okay now," I said, massaging it again.

I winced. Damn, I was probably bleeding. I could feel the hard, dry cake of blood on my scalp.

"So... What happened with your sister? Why didn't she wanna come?"

"... Ah."

I came up short. I really wasn't expecting that question. I suppose I can just tell the truth--it's not like I was talking to Toya or anything.

"She... still feels she needs some time to adjust. She just wanted to keep to herself a bit."

"Oh, she's still not opening up at school?" Kitani asked.

I sighed and shook my head.

"Well, aside from butting heads with this kid that sits next to her in class, she doesn't, really."

"Muh? Who's the kid?" Kitani inquired, suddenly curious.

"Uh, I don't know," I said, confused by the sudden curiosity. "But in any case, I guess she's gonna be alone for a while."

Kitani chuckled.

"Well, if my mother forced me to go live in some country I go to once a year just so she can be with a boyfriend, I would be beyond pissed off. I'd probably rip the plane ticket right in front of her face too."

I actually believed her. Kitani and Kianna. They should really meet. They'd hit it off.

After a few more minutes of skateboarding, we came to stop at a large ranch-style house.

"Well," Kitani said somewhat awkwardly. "This is me."

"Oh," I said, once again, caught up short. "Okay."

"Uhm, do you wanna come in? It's weekend, still early, and I'm sure my mom won't mind."

"Oh, I can't today, actually," I lied. I felt myself stop when the words left my lips.

"I have an xBox," Kitani coaxed.

I laughed again. I do also.

"As much as that appeals to me, I can't today. I need to help cook dinner."

Kitani's eyebrows raised.

"You. Cook?"

"Yeah, shocking, right?"

"Alright, well," Kitani muttered, while walking up to her house, "you better come over tommorow. And bring your sister over, too, if she feels up to it."

"I will!" I called after her.

I skated off when she went inside.

Whaat's wrong with me? Why was I lying? It was weekend--we got back early from Yoyogi, and I was allowed to stay out for as long as I wanted, only if Toya knew EXACTLY where I was,like, oh say, a friend's house. My plausible reasons suddenly shifted to Kitani. So... she's a girl. She's decent-looking and my type. I didn't want to go over to her place to get blind on xBox just because she was a girl? It's not like I have a girl friend back home that I need to stay true to. Or are Izzy and I still together? Because honestly, it was pretty ambiguous, the way we said good-bye to each other.

Bah, whatever. Let's just say that the reason I didn't want to go over was that I would feel guilty for Kianna.

Because... my day was all pretty decent.

But her... I don't know. She already sounded pretty weirded up--something happen at school with that kid she hates?--and our conversation and my yelling at her probably screwed her up even more. She probably had a really crappy day.

When I got home, I slipped off my shoes, hoping that the house was empty.

"Dad?" I called.

No answer. Whoo, I still get a few more hours to myself!　I found a large bag of Kasugai shrimp chips in a cabinet and brought it with me upstairs. I tore open the bag, popped in a chop and savored the delicious MSG. I turned on my XPS, to begin a paper for history. After an hour or two of feeble outlining, a finished bag of chips and soda, and getting killed by the stupid Alliance on Warcraft, I gave up. Oh well. The paper was due three weeks from now and getting started on projects early was never my forte. I walked back downstairs to find another grape soda when I heard an exhausted sigh by the door.

Kianna was home, pulling off her boots with her back to me. I noticed her hands slightly trembling as she undid the clasps.

"Hey," I said quietly, leaning on the doorframe.

Kianna turned immediately and looked at me, her eyes trembling slightly. She slowly looked away and picked up her skateboard.

"Hi," she murmured even softer, going inside.

"Uh, are you okay? You look like you saw someone get killed or something."

She paused on the staircase.

"No," she said flatly, turning a little. "I almost got mugged. Probably worse--"

I didn't let her finish. The temper switch in my brain was flicked on in the high setting.

"You what?" I said loudly, almost yelling.

She sighed and looked away, tired.

"I knew I shouldn't have said anything."

I ran up and met her at the stairs.

"Why didn't you call me or anything?" I said, my voice kind of breaking into a shriek on the last word.

Kianna gave me a scornful look.

"I　was in Ginza, goddammit. What could you have possibly done all the way in Shibuya? And besides, I doubt they would even go near me if they saw me again."

Dammit, she was still angry about the phone call. But I noticed something odd. Her voice was quivering and she was stammering a little bit. Even after fights or being seriously pissed off by people she hated, her voice always stayed strong, never shaken up. Then... what could've shaken up Kianna so bad she couldn't even talk right?

She began walking up the stairs.

"And why would you think that?" I hissed, not wanting to let this go.

Kianna turned and, for the first time in three years, I felt the remotest shred of fear. Her eyes were not the soft mahogany, but a mean, hard rust tone. It's been a very long time since I've seen her like this.

"They just won’t," she muttered, her voice coarse and cruel.

“You beat them up, didn’t you,” I plowed through, not letting her go.

Kianna continued to stare at me, as if she was going to pierce through my head.

“Yes. I did. You wanna know what else I did? I cut them up too.”

She pulled out the black butterfly knife out from her armwarmer and threw it down to me. I caught it and turned it around in my hand. My friend bought this for her when she was in the eighth grade. I flipped out the blade. Yes, this was the one--he had gotten it engraved on the blade.

There was still a little bit of blood crusted in the engraving and some lines of dried blood streaked the length of the blade. I folded it back and was going to throw it back to Kianna, but she was gone. Soon enough, I heard the faint drums, guitars and shrieks of music emanating from her room.

I sighed. I walked to the kitchen and used some soap and water to scrub out the crust of red out, careful not to cut my fingers. She had said "them." Multiple. In a way, as a big brother, I felt somewhat impressed. I taught her how to fight since there would be at least some kind of brawl at school every now and then. And when I sparred with her, even in her first one, I was left with bruises and scratches.

I wiped the knife down with a towel, threw it out and folded it, going to her room. Her door was opened. She was at her Alienware. I noticed a bunch of new jeans and a couple of shirts were strewn across her bed.

Kianna didn't realize I was at her door until I gave a light tap on her wall. When I didn't do anything except stare at her with my mouth opened, her eyebrow twitched.

"... What?" she asked, looking back down at her laptop.

"Uh, nothing," I muttered, placing the folded butterfly knife on the desk.

I crossed the room to sit on her bed．"Um. Sorry about losing it before."

She didn't look up from her typing but cocked an eyebrow.

"Get to the point of this conversation, please?"

She was still angry. But she was softening up.

"Um, do you have anything to do this weekend? Schoolwork... hanging out with some friends?"

The frenzied tapping of the keyboard suddenly seized. I looked up at her from under my lashes, suddenly grateful that my hair was covering my eyes. Kianna glared at me with such heated anger I was sure I wasn't going to leave her room without suffering at least something.

"You know for a fact I don't have any friends here," she hissed with contempt.

"Agh," I flinched, squeezing my eyes shut. "Okay. Okay, okay. I'm sorry."

She sighed and muted the music and gave me her full attention.

"Why are you asking?" she said, apologetic to her outburst. She hiked her legs up onto her leather chair and hugged them.

"Well, a friend of mine is inviting me over to her place to go crazy on xBox," I said. "She said it'd be great if you came also."

"... But we already have an xBox."

"Well, we only have Halo, DDR, and Ko'DEE-Four," I said, using the nickname for Call Of Duty Four.

"... I don't know," she muttered, looking out the window. "I'll think about it."

I suddenly felt my impatience rising again.

"Kianna, please," I said, "can you at least open up a little bit?"

She glanced at me, eyes wide opened with shock and was the wrong thing to say. Asking that meant accepting—worse than accepting, forgiving—our mother for abandoning us.

"No!" she yelled, looking at me. "No! No, no, no, no!"

We stared at each other directly in the eye and I felt my own eyebrows knitting downward when she looked away. Her left hand flitted to her right arm, stroking it a little.

"Kianna," I began stonily. "Why are you starting up again?"

Her eyes glanced up at me again and flashed with panic.

"What are you talking about?" she asked in a tone that questioned my insanity.

I stood up. It was my turn to be mad.

"You know very well what I'm talking about."

Without warning, I pulled her up from her seat, ignoring her screams of protest, and pushed up her armwamer.

Beige marks criss-crossed, twisted, and swirled all over her forearm. A particularly longer, darker, and deeper scar was right on her wrist. The most recent slices were near the crick of her elbow, the middle of the forearm and on the front of her wrist. They were all scabbing.

It was silent for two tense minutes. She twisted her arm out of my grip and yanked down the sleeve and stared at the floor.I heard her say something so quiet I couldn't hear her.

"What?"

She looked up. Her eyes were in that same stiff brown again, but wide open with tears. Her hands were clenched into fists. She was shaking from head to toe. Oh fuck. If there was anything I hated more, it was when I made my sister cry.

"GET OUT!" she screamed.

The tears brimmed over and slid down her cream-colored face. I immediately ran for the door. Almost as soon as I fled the room, the door smashed into its frame behind me and locked with a click. I heard a sob inside. As I stared at the door, my heart started hammering in my chest again, with the cold fear choking me.

I began hammering on the door.

"Kianna!" I bellowed through the crack, "Kianna, don't do anything stupid! Kianna!"

I heard a scream of disgust as I heard her say something like, "What do think I am, an idiot?" and then threw her music back on.

I backed away from the door and gasped, covering my mouth in horror. My chest heaved up and down as I took in deep breaths as I thundered back down into the kitchen. Dad always had a huge stash of booze in the house everytime we came over. I searched through the cabinets like a drug addict would flip out if he didn't have his sniff. I finally found bottles of imported Tsingtao behind a large jug of orange juice. I yanked it out, popped the bottle, and ran outside.

I closed my eyes and chugged down the liquor, shivering when a wind blew by.

She won't.

Chug.

It felt comforting to have the cold fizz slide down my burning throat.

She won't do anything... like again.

Chug chug.

I slowly felt myself unwind as the alcohol slowly seeped down into my stomach.

She just won't.

She did it once before, said a small voice in the back of my head.What makes you think she won’t do it again?

My eyes shot open, lips still glued to the bottle.

An image of Kianna flashed before my eyes. Tears streamed out of her closed eyes while she lay on the carpet. With blood pooling out from her arms.

I ripped the bottle out of my mouth and sprayed the rest of the beer out. The mist of the liquor shined in the light like little droplets of crystal as it fell to the floor.

I suddenly felt nauseated with myself. I cupped a hand to my mouth, afraid if I didn't, I'll hurl. I promised myself I was going to stop after that.

Stop.

I thought the word and the rage ripped through me again, like a savage animal. I released a feral howl as I hurled the beer bottle away as if it was a live grenade. I saw the glass blast apart on the sidewalk in front of the house.

The revulsion finally gripped me. I vomited. I vomited everything out. Not from low tolerance--but from the sickness of my own damn hypocrisy. I continued taking deep breaths of the cool, now icy, air.

I heard the front door open, with the keys jangling, and the click of dress shoes.

"Kianna?" Toya called. "Kai?"

The music exploding from upstairs ceased immediately. I quickly rinsed my mouth with the gardnening hose and wiped my mouth.

"Yeah, Dad," I called, "I'm here!"

I went back inside, my face with a mask of convincing calm. Kianna was coming down the stairs, her face completely dry with a smile, the armwarmers laced together extra tight.

Toya greeted us and began talking to us about dinner plans, but I knew neither of us were listening. I could tell Kianna was doing her best not to express the damage done to her today. And I was doing my best not to just explode with what happened in the last twenty-five minutes.

The images of blood and shattered alcohol glass flashed in front of me again.

No more. We both have to stop.

Now.

KAIAKARASHI

“doushita?”— What’s wrong?

“Aa, gomen!”— Sorry!

“O-namae wa?”—What’s your name?