Stuff...Again. Doesn't This Get Old?

Well, I’m baaaaaack…
Not that it matters much.
Still rather unemployed and still job-hunting. I don’t really know what else to say. The open question from the last time is still open and no progress on finding out the answer to it and I don’t think I’ve even managed to come close. So I decided that to fill up the space of this particular entry, here’s the first part of what I’m working on right now: a warped little story called Akatsuki, which translates as ‘dawn’. Funny thing about this is that it was supposed to be a dark, twisted shojo piece but with an element drawn from Evangelion – each of the major characters has some sort of mental instability or disorder, though two of them had a more obvious form of it than others. Then, other elements came into play and it changed into the current vision that I have for it.
Well, for what it’s worth, read on:

Chapter 1, Part 1:
In an all-girl’s boarding school like Seven Angels University, with students coming from vastly different backgrounds, one is bound to get a few…odd apples. The occasional gaijin wasn’t so bad; those were typically expected by the student body. It was the native oddballs that often raised the eyebrows of the others. One of the more unusual among them was a young, reclusive artist by the name of Kirisawa Kanako.
Kanako, the daughter of a high-ranking corporate executive, was never seen without her tablet PC on which she sketches scenes, characters and concepts from her mind and then uses the software on it to add details, color and effects to it. The few who’d managed to glimpse her work often saw her as talented and on-par with professional manga-ka – the style of which influenced hers – but what she chose to print out and leave on display for anyone to see disturbed people. The grisly scenes of dissections of humans while the facial expressions showed that they were still alive, heads exploding in a gory spray of flesh, bone and blood after being shot execution-style with a shotgun and terrifying creatures that could only have been made by the nightmares of a very twisted, very disturbed mind; or at least, that was what most people thought. A rare few found her work to be very appealing, artistic despite the grim scenes and concepts that she used but they never mentioned anything, for fear of being socially outcast as she was. It was hard to tell if Kanako enjoyed it or if she was even aware of the effect of what she was doing but she kept at it and let things flow as they would. Meanwhile, she kept on sketching but kept a majority of them to herself.
She didn’t have a roommate in the dormitory since most didn’t want to be with her and rumors of her being a sadistic psychopath or even a blood-drinking vampire were widespread but spoken in hushed and fearful whispers. Even without them, she was just strange enough in her manner of dress – the school didn’t impose a uniform on the students, so they could wear what they liked – to draw away people. Again, it seemed as if she actually enjoyed being alone in her dorm room and that being ostracized by the others was something she enjoyed. Indeed, many doubted that she’d be able to continue her habit of working on her digital art or her nightly impromptu violin concerts if she had a roommate. That added yet another layer of mystique and danger to her. It was no exaggeration to say that everyone else in the school was both more than interested in finding out more about her but at the same time, were terrified to get close enough to ask for fear that she’d bite them – metaphorically or otherwise. However, unbeknownst to her and to most of the school, there was one student in all of Seven Angels that didn’t particularly mind taking an unhealthy interest in her but could only make covert moves due to her popularity. That girl was Kazama Miho.
Alone in the library, Miho pretended to be pouring over some of her notes but in reality, she was watching Kanako as she sat in the corner table, far from any windows, alone with only her tablet PC and her MP3 player for company. Behind her was the bookshelf that contained all the books related to art and the history of it, as well as artistic theory. There were a pile of books on Kanako’s table, the titles being Shakespeare’s Macbeth, Stoker’s Dracula, Shelley’s Frankenstein, Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, and Homer’s epic Iliad. She also knew that the social outcast’s musical preferences included the soundtracks to several games such as Final Fantasy VIII, Guilty Gear XX, Xenosaga and Chrono Cross, as well as the compositions of Beethoven, Bach, music from Broadway musicals such as Les Miserables and also more contemporary music from singers like Utada Hikaru and Sakamoto Maaya. She was also certain that the object of her attentions wore that odd necklace of hers; the one that had a blue-green marble that had the some unfamiliar kanji character inside. She’d practically been stalking Kanako and had been doing so for about a year without anyone knowing what she was up to. She’d gotten extremely good at keeping her moves discrete and her steps undetected. Miho sighed as she resigned herself to just watching her; she had her status, her reputation to think about. It would do no good for her to be caught associating with a social outcast like Kanako and even worse for her – and her family – would be if anyone ever found out why she wanted to get closer to Kanako. Through her eyes, the disturbed artist was a darkly perfect beauty.
Miho looked at her and saw the beautiful black hair, even the stray strands over her forehead and the way it was tied in a loose ponytail at the back by a single red lace. The silky smooth black strands of hair that cascaded down her back had the look of hair that was maintained only enough to be presentable and it lacked the reflective shine that Miho’s had. Her skin was pale and looked just a little dry but she was sure it was smooth as silk to the touch and she really wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t. Kanako was very pale and her skin was almost the color of snow; it was assumed it was because she spent all her time indoors and it was no secret that she wasn’t fond of staying for long periods under the sun. Her eyes were pale brown and there was a soulful depth to them, a potency that reflected a deep inner strength in the soul – or at least, that was how Miho interpreted it. Part of her mind was intelligent and objective enough to understand that her interpretation was not likely to be the truth behind that look in the girl’s eyes that most people who saw it couldn’t understand. Kanako’s figure was shapely but her breasts were only average, her legs were long and slender, like her arms. She looked rather plain on the surface but Miho was certain there was more to the girl that the macabre and grisly scenes she depicted and the unimpressive physical appearance.
Miho sighed as she looked back at what she was supposed to be reading. “Well, another day, another set of hours spent stalking her.” she paused and then shook her head. “I can’t.” Miho paused yet again, put down the book and looked slightly frustrated before she muttered under her breath: “I won’t.”
Meanwhile, Kanako was busy on her work. It was another piece, one she’d spent almost two days on the sketch before she decided the cake was good enough to put icing on. It was one of the pieces that she was not planning on showing anyone since it wasn’t one of her more disturbing pieces. It was a touching scene of a little girl, no older than six or seven, with her hand reached out. The more dominant figure of the picture, however, was an older girl of roughly twenty or twenty one, with her hand reaching out to the little girl’s. The little girl appeared to have tripped on the ground and a cut was visible on her left knee, the older girl was clearly reaching out to help her up. There were tears swelling up the little girl’s eyes and more than a few were already on the cheek. There was a strong resemblance between the two, almost as if the older girl was a reflection of the projected appearance of the other girl a few years on. However, a better look at it revealed that the two of them were family, likely sisters. Kanako was busy adding bits and pieces of color here and there, carefully she added the proper shading and lighting effects to get it just perfect. She’d done enough to constitute a rough draft of the finished work and closed her eyes for a moment; a single tear was allowed to run down her cheek before she wiped it away. It wasn’t done yet, she thought, so there wasn’t any reason for her to sign it as she did all of the works that she never showed to anyone else.
Miho saw the tear. It was the first time that she ever saw Kanako show any emotion other than the blank look that was disturbingly emotionless and the look of disdain, of bitterness towards people. It was a detail that Miho had no idea how to interpret or even acknowledge. It could have been a trick of the light but her instincts, her intuition insisted that it wasn’t. It had to have been a tear but, for all the knowledge and observation, she had no idea why Kanako would shed a tear at apparently no provocation or cause. It didn’t make any sense at all, not from what she knew. Miho paused for a moment and then considered what the teardrop meant, the cause of it and why she’d never seen it before despite her long observation of the girl. As she began to ponder, her puffy grey eyes widened and for a moment, her facial expression seemed like that of a girl who’d just heard an indecent proposal whispered in her ear. She shook before a menacing look manifested. Then, finally, both expressions faded and then a look of resolution, though something in her grey eyes indicated a hint of surrender. With a look of concern, Miho stood up and walked towards her to talk. She walked over but somehow, the pretense of using the teardrop to talk to Kanako crumbled in the fact that it would show her for what she had been doing and what she was: an obsessed stalker. Yet, for the minute or two that she stood still, her facial expression changed several times and it seemed as if she was in some sort of debate with someone based on her face alone. Then, finally, she looked like she had a decision.
“Say, I couldn’t help but notice that you’re pretty busy doing something.” Miho said as she came close enough. She was about to pull up the seat next to her when Kanako put her tablet PC into her bag.
“Go away.” Kanako said emotionlessly. Her voice was cold as ice and her face twice as frigid.
Miho shrugged. She expected as much. If it was easy to get close to Kanako, someone else would have done it already. Yet, something inside her mind pushed her on. “I was just wondering if I could…”
Kanako looked at Miho sternly as she swatted the other girl’s hand away. “No!”
The sudden movement caught Miho off-guard. She had expected objection but the possibility that it might lead to a physical confrontation ever crossed her mind. There was the cold determination in those eyes that chilled Miho to the bone as she backed away. It reminded her of a lioness protecting her young; the intensity of it seemed almost unearthly. Whatever Kanako wanted kept secret, for whatever reason, she seemed quite willing to fight to keep it hidden and, Miho feared, even die if that was necessary. Miho had to concede defeat in that instance as she walked away. She went back to her seat and pretended to pour over her book once more. Try as she might, she couldn’t get it out of her head. Kanako did touch her, though it was to swat her hand away from the bag that the tablet PC was in. She’d reached for it to get her attention, to try and peer into what was inside but the swiftness, the fluid movement that brushed her hand aside and the ferocity of the glare that followed was something she’d never expected. It was the second emotion that she’d seen from Kanako that day that seemed out of character. The first one she could have brushed off as some sort of trick of the light, an illusion but the second one happened. She felt the impact on her wrist.
Miho watched as Kanako gathered her things, got up and walked towards the exit. She wasn’t sure if she should make a move and follow her or to stay there and keep quiet. She was wary of following her as it meant that her secret might get blown out of the water if Kanako caught her. She was fairly certain that Kanako would never talk about it to anyone but she didn’t want to risk anyone else seeing it happen. She had to keep up the appearance of being among the social elite, the ones that were analogous to the nobility of the royal courts of old. She was a member of the student council, though the students knew it better by the less than respectful nickname of ‘The Aristocracy’. Her position would crumble and her reputation would be ruined if either of her secrets were to slip out, though her second secret would have worse effects if revealed than her first one. She took a deep breath. She might already have risked the absolute secrecy of her obsession with the actual approach but at least there weren’t others to see it happen.
“I guess I’ll never get a chance to get that close again, will I?” she asked herself. For a moment, it looked as if she had gotten an answer from someone. Then, she sighed and bowed her head. She suddenly had rage clearly marked on her face, accentuated by the clenching of her fists. “You’re pathetic, Miho.”