Toki's Satu
Chapter 1: The Dream
Author's Note: This is my very first fan-fiction! Huzzah! I actually started it a year ago, going in a very different direction, then just stopped. I don't know why, 'cause it's really awesome, but lately it's been burning a rather large and worrisome hole in my head, so I came back to it and did some major revising. I think it's a lot better now, but a little confusing at first.
So you all will just have to act like little Jedi's and I am the Jedi Master—constantly maddening you by giving information drip-by-drip on a need-to-know basis. Or you could just pretend to be a super-sleuth and try to figure out everything before I flat out tell you, which may take a while.
Sentences in italics are thoughts. Sentences in underlined italics are telepathic messages.
All reviews will be taken into serious consideration and contemplated upon vigorously until their true meanings conceived!
Well, not really. But I will reply to them all!
It's always the same:
A dark and stormy night, a girl, eyes wide with panic. She's sprinting down a street that I know well, but have never seen. She's running away from something, towards something else. She careens all over the road, unable to run straight. Rain pelts her back, strikes her eyes, it's freezing. Her hair whips her face in wet cords. Her heart races, thrashing like a frightened bird in her rib cage. Her clothes hang off her body and slap at her legs as she urges them faster. She's been running forever. Her muscles burn and her lungs scream for air, but she ignores them.
I must go on. I must get there before… before… what?
She can't think, can't concentrate. She falters. It's too dark; she's lost her way. She looks around desperately, but sees nothing. She chokes on the raindrops as they slide down her throat.
No, no! It can't end here! Please! I can find my way!
Lightning flashes, momentarily lighting my path. I see it! The way I need to go!
I dart around a curve in the road. The asphalt is rough and tears at my bare feet. My breath is coming in choking rasps. Thunder roars after me.
The Girl is here within me. She wants me to stop. She fights me, but my will to get there is stronger. My face wrinkles in pain as she screeches and I feel my eardrums pop.
It can't be true, she wails, there's no way!
The asphalt gives way to gravel. The rocks stab into my soles and are pressed in further with every step I take, but I've never gotten this far. I must go on.
I race down this new road until I see a house. It's only two stories with peaked roof, a handful of windows and a stone fence. Lightning blazes above it's peak, dangerously close. I catch glimpses of a gold mailbox and an elaborate garden through the hammering rain and howling wind.
I've never seen it before, but one word comes to mind…
Home.
Time seems to slow as I gaze at this astonishing place. My bleeding feet pause on the slick grass. I wish I could have stared forever, but time started again.
The lightning flickers and goes out. Thunder bellows right above me. I jump out of my stupor, trip, and fall in a mud puddle. I flail, then right myself and spit out a bit of sludge. As I clamber to my feet, the thunder snarls like an enraged lion. I give Home one last longing look. I want so much to go in, be held and loved, be safe.
Yes, prods the Girl, Go on, be sheltered. Go, Pekopeko-chan, go and hide away. This is no place for you.
The storm grows a little quieter as I watch. The rain seems to caress my soaked and weary body instead of battering it. The wind blows gently and all those lovely plants look like they're pointing at what could be my home. No, what should be my home. Lightning streaks in jagged forks across the sky, but the thunder only mutters soothingly. My panicked heart calms to a more balanced rhythm. The rain slows to the occasional drip. The wind is almost gone.
Yes, Pekopeko-chan, that is what you truly crave. Why should it not be yours?
My gaze lingers on that home I've never had. My heart yearns so hard it aches, but something else is calling me. Something stronger than me, stronger than my greatest want, it's even stronger than the Girl. It doesn't push like the Girl does, or tug at my heart like my desires, but it calls to me so clearly that I know it is true.
My feet begin to move again, but I don't enter. A silent sob escapes my lips as I dash past my Never-home and down a steep hill, escaping towards the woods around back. My tears mix with the rain.
The storm goes wild again, sending my heart back to it's frenzied tempo. I don't have time to cry. Rain lashes my back and wind shoves hair into my eyes. I stub my toes on an up turned root and fall. My momentum carries me in graceless somersaults in which I seem to hit every rock on the slope. I stop at the bottom of the hill, only to stagger up and race into the woods.
The leaves and the trees protect me from the brunt of the rain and wind, but they blot out the lightning and do nothing to shield me from the rampant thunder. Older leaves cover the ground, slippery from the rain. I lurch, skidding on them but keeping my balance for once in my life. I run on. The leaves are slimy underfoot, and I feel something go "CRUNCH! Squisssh," as I tumble into the mud yet again.
I spit out pieces of leaves and more grime, coughing to clear my mouth. I can't help it; I look behind me to see what I stepped on. Lightning flashes, revealing the crushed shell and innards of a snail on my already stone-studded foot.
I want to retch, but I must go on. The Girl will overcome me if I do not -- and I cannot miss… what? I strive to regain my footing yet again, when I hear water. Not like the rain that hammers on the leaves, more like white-water rapids. A river. This is where I must go.
The thunder erupts, obliterating the sound. But my hearing is better than most, I heard where it was. I make for the river at full tilt. All I can do is pray to whoever's listening that I won't lose my footing again.
No! Screeches the Girl, You can't! It could bring you nothing but pain!
The lightning sears across the sky, helping me once more to find my way. But then there is a loud cracking sound as the tree it struck bursts into flames. I have about a half second to wonder how something can catch on fire while it's raining this hard before I realize that a burning branch is going to smash me if I don't get my butt in gear and move.
My mouth opens in a silent scream as I dive into a clump of bushes. They too catch fire as the tree limb crashes to the ground in a shower of sparks. I scramble out of them and hope I'm running in the right direction.
I can't go on much further like this. My brain is suffering from stress-overkill. My heart is ready to explode. I've lost the feeling in my legs and feet from the icy rain, but my lungs are burning more than I ever thought possible. It's only a matter of time before I collapse.
Come, quickly now! You are almost there.
This new voice startles me, but instead of faltering, I run steadier. I come upon an ancient oak tree, like the ones you in pictures. I was amazed. It was at least twenty feet in diameter!
But I can't stop here. I'm so close to the river, so close to… what?
I rush around the tree at maximum speed, straight into… nothing.
I feel nothing but air touching my feet. I don't want to fall on my face again, that would hurt. So I lean back. I slide right down a muddy bank, splashing down into what's more of a swollen creek than a river. The back of my head whacks on what feels like a very hard root.
I sit in water that's up to my neck, clinging to a root so I won't get swept downstream. I reach into my hairline to feel my head. My fingers come back sticky and wet. Blood. Lighting flashes and I see blood from my feet in the water. I know I'm going to pass out or die, whichever comes first.
So I'm bleeding, drenched, covered in muck, and my heart should be able to qualify for the Olympic Mile-Run by now. I'm so pumped up on adrenaline that I can't feel the cold or my pain. I try to stand but my legs give out. All I can do is cling to the root.
This is where it's supposed to be! I think franticly, I just know it! Where is it!
I look wildly to the opposite bank. Part of it fades, giving way to a glowing white light.
I'm afraid of it, more afraid than I've been this whole night. I don't know for the life of me what it is.
The light fans out into a waving circle.
Something starts to appear…
"TOKI! GET YOUR BUTT OUT OF BED AND COME MAKE BREAKFAST!"
My eyes snap open. My heart still hammers in my chest. I'm covered in goose bumps; I can still feel the icy rain. I can't help feeling frustrated. For the first time in weeks my dream changes—even if it's only a continuation—and I'm still not able to see the end!
I sit up in the grimy cot He calls my bed. My PJ's hang limply from my form, soaked in sweat. I push off the one thin sheet as I swing my feet to the floor. He gets angry if I dawdle too long.
"NOW, TOKI!"
O, reality, how I loathe thee so.
Pushing aside thoughts of my dream, I only stub my toes on three books before squeezing out my bedroom door, (it's more of a closet, really) skirting empty beer cans and bottles in the hall and stumbling into the kitchen. Our apartment is a mess. It's always this way after weekends. I'll have to swipe more trash bags from the school.
I slink past Him, whom is clutching to our couch like gravity has just reversed, or trying to strangle it. The poor thing's already in sorry-shape—the couch, I mean. It's all but disintegrating. He on the other hand, is far beyond "sorry shape."
"Oh, Kami," He groans as I make my way to the refrigerator, questing for anything edible.
It's alive…I think to myself, so much for getting my hopes up. Not that I wish any harm on the guy or anything. I take a deep breath, hold it, and open the door.
Danger Alert! Danger Alert! Entering contaminated area!
The refrigerator truly is foul. I forgot to clean it out for a week or two. In a past life—a far and distant past life—I'm sure all this stuff was originally intended for human consumption. Now, uh… I'd rather not know what it was.
Oh! Something recognizable! Is it breakfast quality? I raise my eyebrows at some slightly fuzzy grapes.
Nah, He never eats fruit, but I take them out anyway.
"Honey, get me some Advil. I've got another headache."
"Hangover" would be the correct term…I think to myself.
"WHAT DID YOU SAY!"
I twist around. He is sitting up on the couch, eyes burning with a hate I've never understood. I cringe, anticipating him to go into a blind rage—but he only sinks back onto the couch.
"Ohhhhh, so dizzy…. Head splitting…. Stop the noise…."
I watch him a moment more, making sure he's not just waiting to catch me off-guard, before turning back to the refrigerator.
Sometimes He does that. It's like he can hear my thoughts. Then again, most times he's either drunk or recovering from hangovers and I'm pretty sure I'm insane. So it's really nothing to worry about too much.
He is my father. It makes me cringe to call him that. I wish he were just my evil stepfather, like in fairy-tales. Then I could hope that maybe, just maybe, my real family might come to save me some day. But no—he's blood related. It was Mom and Stepmother that walked out the door and left me behind. Not that I really blame them. After all, who wants a squealing, clinging toddler that you don't even know? Or how about the version after her, a silent-to-the-grave fourth-grader? Moreover, who wants to be with a guy like Him?
My quest leads me deeper into the bowels of the 'fridge. Most of the shelves are taken up by beer, but we do have some food in here—well, then again, it depends on your definition of "food." There are leftover veggie burgers from last week, (they were hamburgers to begin with) a gallon of curdled milk, our supply of hotdogs seems to be alive, a few dozen rancid eggs, there's that pile of sludge that resembles Mt Fuji in the vegetable drawer, and a box of pizza. Fortunately, the pizza doesn't look too bad (it always green like that, right?) so I pop it in the microwave for a minute while I let out my breath and scurry to the bathroom.
(My eyes flick to the closet, my bedroom. The dream. I'd never been in control of that dream. I've read about people who can lucid dream. Is that what I'm doing?)
The floor is slick with mouthwash and reeks of Listerine. It always smells like that. If He's drunk when he tries to use it, he tends to spill it all over the floor—but he rarely goes through the hassle. Which is probably why I wasn't watching, slipped, fell on my butt, slid across the floor and into the wall. As it just so happens, the medicine cabinet had been left slightly ajar. However, because of the vibrations created by my sudden stop, the door swung open and all those medications came wobbling very close to the edge of their shelves.
No! Stay! The medicines teeter cheekily towards me. Staaaaaaaaay, no, stay! Good bottles!
The bottles stayed. Another crisis averted! I sigh and let my head drop back—right… against… the wall.
Thump.
I freeze, knowing what I did, but just hoping for the best. I look up, smiling sheepishly at them, before they all come tumbling down.
Our medicine cabinet is actually quite impressive with over fifty pill-bottles, vitamins, Band-Aids, gauze rolls, alcohol wipes and other various medical treatments. Most of them are over-the-counter, but a select few painkillers are from the man on the corner. (He comes home pretty messed up after a drunken brawl down on the streets.)
I'm small—and easily buried by the avalanche of medications. A roll of gauze gets stuck in my mouth. I splutter, but the darn thing's stuck! After worming my head above of the heap, I spit it out. It bounces down Med's Mountain as I gaze forlornly at the task that will await me after school.
Great. Now how am I going to find that Advil?
I lean my head back, letting it thump against the wall. Why not? Everything up there has gone skydiving.
I can't believe it. The microwave beeps. I'm just staring at the empty cabinet, pondering about that Advil. I'm about to think the magic word—when I hear something. It's like the jangling of coins in a purse but with out the chink sound. Something white rolls to the edge of the cabinet, the letters A-D-V-I-L scroll across it as it rolls off the shelf, falls. Stupid me tries to read it as it falls and gets whacked right between the eyes.
Found it, I think, rubbing my nose.
I scurry back into the kitchen, place a few slices of pizza on a plate along with the last two Advil. I have to climb up on the counter to reach the cups and glasses. I take one down, hop off, cross to the other side of the kitchen, climb up on that counter and fill a glass of water. Once it's full I clutch it to my chest and jump down. The cold water spills all over my front. I shake as I get a major sense of de ja vu from my dream.
Shivering, I climb back up and refill the glass. This time I set it down, picking it back up once I'm on the floor. I take the glass and plate into the living room and place them on the coffee table in front of Him. I also set the empty Advil bottle down next to it. He knows what that means.
"Thanks, honey." He ignores the water I struggled for and takes the pills with a gulp of booze. He's biting into the first greasy slice of piazza when he notices the bottle. "What! Empty, again?"
I bob my head quickly as I dart back to the kitchen for my breakfast. I toss the grapes on a plate and try to scrape off most the fuzz. I eat at the bar that divides our kitchen and living room. The grapes taste putrid, but hey, it's nourishment, right?
I choke down the last of them while I dash back into my closet to get dressed. I trip on a sake bottle and smash my face into my door, which pops open—allowing me to stub a toe on my school bag and do a face-plant on the hard-back I was reading last night.
Why me?
I'm always an accident-prone klutz. I guess I'm just glad that I'm not tall. Otherwise I'd probably run into overhanging objects, doorframes and ceilings. (Well, I still run into doorframes, but not the top at least.)
I tug off my wet PJ's, leaving them on the floor in a soggy heap. I tunnel between books under the cot, searching for my school uniform.
We have to wear uniforms at school. Most girls don't like them—I do. It keeps the teachers from asking too many questions about why my clothes stink like alcohol or why I keep wearing the same ones. (I only have a few other clothes.) I actually like our uniforms. Sure they aren't the most stylish things, but they look good. The girls' have blue sailor tops with long sleeves and bordering white lines. There's a yellow kerchief that's held in place by a blue cloth in front. We also have to wear blue pleated skirts and knee socks. The boys just wear blue jackets and pants.
I pull on my skirt and one sock. Where'd that other one get? The right one seems to vanish the moment I need it.
Dumb sock. Where are you? Arrg, I don't have time to play! Olli-Olli-oxen-free!
That's my magic word. I always find what I'm looking for after I think it.
Aha! There you are!
Sure enough, my sock is draped over my door hinge. How it got there I'll never be sure. Things in my room just seem to have a mind of their own.
I pull it on along with my shoes. Scooping up my bag, I dart out of our 6th floor apartment and down to the nearest elevator. The elevator is really slow but I gave up going down the stairs after I nearly broke my arm… twice.
Finally, it's here! I hustle onboard with two other residents. They don't notice me. I tap my foot, much to the displeasure of the woman ("Do you hear that?" "What, dear?" her husband asks. "That tat-tat-tat sound." She's looking quite paranoid. The man glances around. He doesn't see me standing right behind him. "No," he says. "I do. Do you think its rats? Oh it is rats! The place is infested with rats!")
I rub my poor, sensitive ears as I flee the elevator and the shrieking woman.
My full name is Shin Toki Kadoguchi. I don't know why the Girl called me Pekopeko-chan. He, Mom and Step mom were the only ones to ever call me Toki. I call myself either Shadow or Stupid, whichever fits at the current moment. For some reason all my friends call me Satu. Well, they still do, but we're not friends.
They started calling me Satu we were really young. Before He started acting like this. Even before Mom….
….
…I don't want to think about that.
Anyways, I used to have lots of friends. But we started to drift apart. It may have been that I'm 14 and still only 4'10 on tiptoe. (I'm not short! I'm just vertically challenged!) Now most people don't notice me. That could be because I've passed out of their line of vision, or because I always have my nose tucked deep in a book. I don't mind. I like to keep to myself.
I'm panting heavily by the time run through the school gate. I've got three minutes to make it to class. I look up, admiring the building. Sarayashiki Junior High and the library that resides within; I almost wish it was Home.
I sprint through the door towards the stairs. I can be fast if I need to.
I only fall up the stairs five times before running onto the third floor. For sprinting, that's a record! I've even got a minute left to get into my seat. I just might make it! I see my classroom door. Thirty seconds!
Yes! I'm going to make it! For once in my life I'll be on time! Today's going to be a great day!
Genuinely smiling for the first time in a long time, I can almost hear victory music playing in my head.
Just as it shuts, I run through the door… oh, wait…. I can't run through doors.
BANG!
I see the door falling away….
…. and everything goes dark.
Notice any astro marks? All the words they mark are Japanese. You can find their meaning in the glossary!
Glossary
Pekopeko-chan—little fawn
Kami—God
Shin Toki Kadoguchi—Shin is the family name, Toki her personal name and do the Japanese have middle names? Well, that's what Kadoguchi is
(A/N) So? Ye like? Tell me if there's anything I can improve on! (Should it have been shorter or what?) The next chapie will have YuYu characters. Seeya then!