This fan fiction I am composing is heavily reliant on emotional scenes, an area of writing which I'm knew to. So basically I want anyone who's up to it to read this chapter and tell me if it invoked emotions in you. Did it make you fell sad, happy, excited, etc?
Much thanks.
The boy sat in his seat with his arms across his chest and his eyes drilling into the hard plastic of the seat in front of him. He'd been holding that position for nearly the entire flight since he'd left Russia. He hadn't talked to anyone beyond basic answers, and soon any potential conversationalists gave up and left him to his silence. He was in his own personal bubble of solitude and silence, completely blocking out the chattering of other passengers, the calls for the stewardess, and the gentle drone of the jet engines.
"Denya, you are going to live with your Uncle Tojo."
"Uncle Tojo? I've never heard of him, where does he live?"
"A small Japanese village called Hinamizawa." The boy shifted in his seat slightly, and briefly wondered when they were going to land.
"Ladies and gentlemen this is your captain speaking; we will be landing in ten minutes. Please return to your seats and observe the seat-belt light, thank you."The PA announced, causing passengers to start making their way towards their respective boy smirked slightly at the convenient timing of the announcement, then slowly sat up and stretched. The seat belt light flashed red as the plane began its descent towards the airport.
Half an hour later
The boy went left the plane, pausing to stretch once more. As he stepped off the rampart, the smell of Japan hit him full force, with the scent of sushi, noodles, tea, and other Japanese cooking engulfed the air around him. The delightful smell of it all reminded him just how hungry he was, his stomach growled angrily in protest to have not been fed for so many hours, but the boy hadn't gotten hungry enough to consider trying the airline 'food.'
So he'd starved, and now he was almost weak in the knees with hunger. He'd brought two hundred rubles with him, but he had no idea how much that was in yen. If he could find an exchange counter, maybe he could get a decent meal, or perhaps his uncle Tojo would buy him something.
As he collected his belongings, two small suitcases, he took a moment to look around the terminal. It wasn't terribly different, except for the Japanese signs everywhere of course. Luckily he was quite fluent in the language; he'd studied it as his secondary for ten years. That and his father taught him, although he'd often wondered why his father knew Japanese so well.
As he wandered towards the entrance, scanning for his uncle, he felt vulnerable. Naked almost, like he'd wandered into the terminal with nothing on but his boxers. He even checked himself for anything like stupid looking, an open fly, torn clothes, but found nothing.
He checked against the picture he'd been given of his uncle, a rather elegant-looking Japanese man in his early forties. He looked around, hoping he'd not been forgotten, and was about to double back and check the arrivals section when a heavy hand set itself down on his shoulder.
"Ah, Denya Kondrashin if I'm not mistaken." Denya's system flooded with adrenaline at the touch, and he whipped around in a flash, hands raised to fight. He found himself looking up into the well-kept, clean-shaven face of his uncle Tojo which gave no expression to Denya's reaction. Aware of how much of a fool he looked like right now, Denya forced himself to calm down as he out his hands at his side, then stuck one out to shake.
"Da, Uncle Tojo?" Denya asked formally. His apparent uncle only nodded his head and turned around, motioning for him to follow. Denya grabbed his bags and hurried after, hoping they might stop at one of the little concession shops for some food. But as they exited the building, Denya's hopes gave way to hungry disappointment, and he began wishing he'd braved the airline food anyway. He shoved his hunger to the corner of his mind and kept walking.
It was sunny outside, and the warm, fresh, spring air was a welcome change from the stale cabin air of the plane. But it smelled different, not normal. It took Denya moment of figuring to realize it didn't smell like Russia, it smelled like Japan.
Uncle Tojo had parked near the far end of the parking lot, a fact that irked Denya as he marched past several obviously open parking spots. They reached the car and uncle Tojo popped the trunk for Denya who gratefully placed his suitcases inside. Shutting the trunk, Denya cracked open the passenger side door and slid in. Uncle Tojo pulled out, checked his corners, and then peeled off down a road leading towards the forest.
Fifteen minutes passed, and Denya had been silent so far. This seemed to suit his uncle just fine, for he didn't say a word. After twenty minutes though, uncle Tojo finally said the inevitable.
"I'm sorry about your father. He was a good man." Denya nodded silently, lost in his own mind.
"I'm sorry about your father son…"
"He was a good man, the very best."
"What a way to go, poor comrade."
"He would have made Stalin proud, no Russian man could ask for a finer father!" Denya realized he was crying. Hot, salty tears ran down his face and into his lap. He could hardly swallow, and soon he buried his face in his hands, weeping silently. Uncle Tojo cast him a glance, then looked away, apparently unconcerned about his nephew's turmoil's.
Denya's teeth were clenched tight; the sixteen year old tried to push the memories out of his head. Papa, slumped over in his chair at the table. Denya had only left for a minute, just long enough to set some tea on to boil. Papa had been laughing uproariously at something he'd read in the paper. It was a good morning, not too cold, and was looking to be a pleasant day. Papa laughing, the sun shining, the tea boiling steadily. And then the laughter stopped. Denya had peeked back into the dining room to see his Papa slumped over, not moving. He'd called him, no response. He'd tried shaking him, tried to wake him up. But when he lifted him up, when he'd looked into Papa's eyes, he knew.
He'd screamed. He'd dialed for the ambulance, pleading on the phone for them. Paramedics came, shouting to one another. They'd hooked him up to various gadgets and machines, trying to do the impossible. But Denya knew it was too late, far too late.
"Are you listening to me boy? Hey, snap out of it!" Denya's raised his tear streaked face to the impatient one of his uncle, staring at him with empty eyes. "Listen up boy, if you are going to live under my house, you will follow my rules, got it?" Denya just stared at him for a moment, hatred suddenly consuming him. He'd just lost his father; couldn't this slick bastard show any emotion at all? Maybe Uncle Tojo wasn't his father's closest brother, but still!
"Da uncle." Denya answered straightly, crushing his hatred and sadness down his throat. "Da uncle, I will obey your rules." He answered solemnly. Uncle Tojo snorted at this.
"Damn right you will, now listen closely because I don't want to repeat myself. First, you stay the hell out of trouble, if you do something that I have to get involved in, I will kick your ass into tomorrow, got it?" Denya nodded expressionlessly, then his uncle carried on. "Second, I don't care what the hell you do as long as you are not a pest. I'm an important man and I've got important work to do, so no interruptions. Third, if I tell you to do something, you do it, no questions asked." He kept going for another minute or two, Denya blankly nodding to all of them, all the while wondering where his life was going now.
He was a farmboy, plain and simple. He'd lived alone with Papa as long as he could remember, he had no idea what happened to Mama, and Papa didn't bother to tell him. He'd just worked the ground with Papa, and he'd done so for most of his life. He didn't have many friends at school, he tended to shell up and mind his own business. While the other boys necked with their girls behind the school, Denya stayed inside and read about history, sighing at the level of censorship imposed on the schools by the Soviet rule.
And now here he was. His father was dead, he was in a foreign country, he was under the custody of his nearest living relative who clearly wouldn't give half a **** if Denya wound up on his porch in two dozen slices, except that might stain the welcome matt.
Uncle Tojo finished up his little speech, and sent Denya an icy glare. "Did you even hear what I said, boy?" Denya suddenly sat up in his seat, ramrod straight, looked his uncle straight in the eye.
"Da ser!" He shouted, loud and clear. Uncle Tojo looked taken back for a moment, and then let a smooth icy grin slid over his face.
"Good, your father taught you something after all." He turned his attention then back the road, leaving Denya is silence. The dirty blonde sank back into his seat and sighed deeply. So this was his future, stuck in some Japanese hamlet with this soulless old bastard. And so, with nothing better to do, Denya leaned back and went to sleep.
"If you think I'm carrying you, you better get your head straight boy." A loud, condescending voice pierced Denya's slumber. He started to stir, where was he? The answer came to him immediately. "Boy, we're here. Now get your ass out of my car, now!" Denya snapped upright as it all rushed back to him, sleep vanishing from his mind. He nodded dumbly at his impatient uncle and hurried out of the vehicle, the door just being slammed shut behind him.
Uncle Tojo headed for the house while Denya ran to the open trunk to retrieve his suitcases. Taking care to carefully shut the trunk, the sixteen year old scurried in the direction of his uncle. Now fully awake, he stopped to look around at the scene around him. It was dark out now, the sun must have just slipped down behind the mountains. The street was bathed in light from the overhead lamps, but there wasn't much to see, the street was deserted and only a few of the houses had any lights on. "Anytime you wish, boy." He uncle snapped impatiently, prompting Denya to hurry along.
The air was cooling now anyways, no point in staying outside. But just before he walked in, he noticed the strangest of noises that seemed to fill the air. He'd thought it to just be a piece of machinery, but now it was obviously not that, it was something much bigger, all around him. He stopped and listened closely, setting his bags on the front step.
It sounded like, crying almost. But not a human cry or anything, something deeper, like a wailing rattle. It was an almost mournful sound that filled the air around him. He glanced towards his uncle who was already inside and putting his jacket away.
"Uncle Tojo ser, what is that sound?" He asked politely.
"It's the Higurashi cicada's, the damned towns full of the blasted insects. Now come inside before you let any in, move it!" He snapped, and Denya stooped down to grab his bags before rushing inside and closing the door behind him. "Lock it too would you?" His uncle called out, and Denya snapped the lock shut.
Grabbing his bags again, he walked down the short entry hall into what he presumed was the living room. It wasn't an overly large house, but quite nice none-the-less, with a certain western style, in terms of furniture. A staircase leading upstairs was ten feet in front of Denya, and to his sides were doors to the kitchen and living room.
At the sight of the kitchen, Denya's hunger returned again with a force, nearly bringing him to his knees. He dropped his baggage and turned to his uncle, who had already dumped himself on a chair in front of the television, having completely tuned his nephew out.
"Uncle? Where do I sleep?" Denya asked, hoping it wasn't going to be the basement or something.
"Upstairs, end of the hall. Don't make any noise." His uncle answered emotionlessly. Denya didn't waste any more time, marching up the stairs and down the hall.
It was about as basic as a room could be, a single bed shoved up against the wall in one corner with a bookshelf next to it. Bland grey carpeting dominated the floor, and the only sources of light was from a dull lamp on the dresser opposite of the bed, and the small square window facing it. Oh well, it was better than the basement. Denya dumped his stuff on the bed and quickly unpacked.
He hadn't brought a terrible amount in the way of clothing; most of clothes were for either farming, resisting the Russian winter, or both, leaving him with about half a dozen or so sets of summery clothing. His other suitcase however, was loaded with objects of a more intimate nature.
Pictures mainly. Pictures of him and his father, his father with friends, his farm, that sort of thing. Denya took his time to carefully place these on the shelf before unloading the last package. It was a cardboard box, gently wrapped with duct tape and marked only by a simple note.
To: Denya
From: Papa
He slowly cut away the tape with some scissors, then opened the lid and pulled out the gift from the mound of packing peanuts.
Tears welled up in his eyes as he lifted the pistol from its box, holding it to his eyes. It was a TT-30, simply built and well-kept.
"Be careful Denya, this is not a toy. When you use it, you always use it to kill or to be ready to kill, not for games. Now hold it firmly in your hands, like this." Papa explained. Six year-old Denya's eyes shined in wonder as his father showed him the proper techniques for firing a handgun, one of their special father-son moments. It was a nippy Russian day, the first frost had fallen not a day to soon. They'd just finished the harvest two days before and the last of papa's hired hands had headed off home.
Denya had asked papa why he was showing him this, not that he minded of course. Papa had set his hand on his shoulder and looked him dead in the eye. "Because Denya, the world has changed for the worse. There are many bad men in this world my son, men who would cut your throat for just a cup of tea. Now I love you my son, and I will protect you the best I can. But a day will come that I will not be able to protect you, a day when you will have to protect yourself against the bad men of this world. You will have to protect yourself, and that is what I will teach you." His papa sighed heavily. "Listen son, the next years will become very hard for you and for me, and it's not because I do not like you, I couldn't have asked for a better son. I am going to do all that I will to help you become stronger, faster, better. You will be a real man my boy, and a real man will know how to defend himself and the ones he loves."
Denya found himself crying again. How ironic, he thought bitterly. After all that talk about defending those he loved, all that training, he had failed to protect his father. Useless, you are useless. He cursed himself silently; he cursed himself again and again. He was supposed to defend his family, he was supposed to defend those he loved, he was supposed to do that. And he'd failed.
"Remember Denya, it will be your duty to protect those you care for. I'm getting old and I will not last forever, this old man's almost through. The torch is going to be yours son, and it will be a heavy torch to carry. That's why I've trained you so hard son, that's why I've pushed you again and a again, so you will be able to carry this torch, my old arms just can't do it anymore."
He'd taken the torch and dropped it, burning down everything he was supposed to protect. His father was dead, and he was now condemned to spend the rest of his childhood in some obscure village, cared for by an uncle who clearly didn't give a **** about him. Finally Denya couldn't take it anymore. His legs buckled under him as he collapsed facefirst into his pillow. There, he began weeping.
He wept and wept as all of the bottle-up emotions, all the sadness, the pain, spilled out of him.
"I'm sorry Papa, I'm so sorry!" He sobbed into his pillow. The shock was gone, the horror had begun. His Papa was dead, and he wasn't coming back. No waking up to find him smiling at the table, no being roused from a terrible nightmare. It all hit how now like a load of bricks. His frame lurched as it was racked with sobs as the shattered boy gasped for breath.
He eventually managed to stop. Maybe he finally ran out of tears. Perhaps he just became too exhausted by it all. Regardless of the why, Denya finally stopped crying, although his sheets were already soaked with tears. As he raised his red, tear-streaked face from the bed, he didn't feel so sad anymore. Now a great emptiness had taken its place in his heart, a terrible numbness to the pain. He wiped the tears from his face, then pushed himself off the bed and ambled down the hall to the bathroom.
He splashed his face with cold water and rubbed himself down with a towel. Moving on some sort of internal autopilot now, Denya didn't bother to brush his teeth or comb even get changed. He just staggered back into the bedroom and collapsed on the bed, and let his exhaustion overwhelm him, dragging him down into a deep, deep, sleep.
"Are you deaf boy, I said get up and out of bed and get your ass ready for school!" Any pleasant dreams Denya had been having broke immediately as the sound of his name plunged him back into the world of the living. Moving on an ingrained autopilot, he flung himself off the bed and began ripping off his dirty clothing. He was halfway through this process when his memory caught up to his brain and pulled him to a halt.
"Wait, what the hell am I doing?" He asked himself, and then yelled at his uncle. "Uncle Tojo ser, why am I getting up?"
"Did you not hear me? I said you are going to school, I registered you the day before you arrived, now hurry up and get down here!" His uncle snapped impatiently. Denya sat down on his bed for a moment, this was all going to fast for him. His father was dead for gods sake and he was going straight off to school?
Denya sighed, what a load of ****. He got dressed and hurried down stairs to where his uncle has apparently taken the time to cook him some toast, which Denya grabbed and wolfed down immedietly. He heard the door open, and peeked out the kitchen to see his uncle waiting at the door. "Hurry up, I've already gotten you school supplies that are in the car, now come on!" Denya flustered, he wanted to explain that he didn't evne have a lunch packed, but one look at his uncle's face told him it wouldn't make a difference. Sighing, Denya opened the fridge and dug around for a pair of apples, then took off out the door.
"Everyone, I would like you to all look up and say hello to Denya Kondrashin." Mion Sonozaki's head perked up from a very close game of Old Maid at the sound of Chie-Sensei's voice, and at the unfamiliar name.
"Hello Denya-san." The class replied on cue to their blue-haired teacher. It was then Mion noticed the holder of the name who had walked in right behind Chie-sensei. The first thing she noticed about him was his age, he looked about sixteen or so, which would mean someone her age other than her sister to talk to.
He had wavy, dirty blonde hair that reached halfway to his shoulder, stood about five foot nine, and had brilliant blue eyes that warily analyzed the class before him as if he considered each and everyone of them a potential threat. From the way he fidgeted and squirmed inside his uniform, it was clear he really did not want to be there as the teacher questioned him before the class.
"So Denya, tell us a little bit about yourself?" Chie-sensei asked, to which the boy slowly nodded and swallowed.
"Well, my name is Denya Kondrashin and I have just moved here from Verkhoyansk in Russia to live with my uncle Tojo." He said in suprisingly good Japanese. At the mention of Tojo-san, several of the students exchanged uneasy looks with one another, the arrogant man was disliked by most, if not the entire, village. However Mion was a bit more interested in why a Russian boy had moved to Japan, and to Hinamizawa of all places! Chie-sensei just kept smiling warmly obviously running on all cylinders to make the newcomer feel at home.
"Well that is fascinating, I hope you enjoy your stay in Hinamizawa!" She said, turning back to the class. "Now class, be sure to help make Denya-san feel at home here, I'm sure some of you can imagine how scary going to a new school would be like!" She ended with a look at the younger children. Mion supressed an internal grin, all the children in the class had been in the village school their entire lives. Chie-sensei smiled warmly at Denya-san. "Denya-san, you may take a seat now." He nodded quietly and looked around the classroom for an empty desk. Mion took note of this and grabbed one near her and pulled it over.
"Hey Denya-san, put 'er down over here!" She called out enthusiastically. Denya snapped his head toward her, saw the challenging glint in her eye, and silently headed over and sat down.
"Thanks." Denya said quietly, pulling out his textbook. Fishing a pencil out of his backpack, he opened the book and looked up expectantly at his new teacher, but she had just left the class to retrieve some materials. So he began looking around, checking out the rest of the class. To his relief few eyes were looking his way, most of the the students were busy in animated conversations with friends. He mentally sighed in relief, this was a good start. if he could just manage to fly under the radar like this for his time here, it might not be quite so bad. He turned back to his book and started to write the day and date on a sheet of loose-leaf paper when a strong hand grabbed him by the shoulder and squeezed tight.
He snapped around in alarm to find the green-haired girl who'd offered, or more like ordered, him to a seat. Her bright green eyes were positively alive with a mixture of curiosity and mischief, and right then Denya knew that he could throw the possibility of being inconspicuous right out the window.
"Hey there, I'm Mion Sonozaki, heir to the Sonozaki family and more importantly, leader of the Club! Come meet the rest of the gang!" Before Denya fully knew what was happening, he found himself being dragged out of his seat by a very strong arm and toward a small cluster of three desks right next to his own. Attending said desks were three young girls who looked to be from ten to fifteen years old. "Alright club members, as you all know, we have a newbie in our midst, everyone snap to and say hello!" She demanded in an enthusiastic and commanding tone.
At once all three girls jumped from their seats to fixate their eyes on Denya, who instantly began to squirm. Their eyes shone with curiosity as they looked him over, but before they could say a word, Mion beat them to it. "Don't just stand there gawkin' say hello!" To Denya's left, a red-haired girl looking about fifteen and wearing a positively adorable white hat smiled wide and spoke up.
"Hi there! I'm Rena Ryuugu, Rena is very happy to meet Denya-san!" With that, she took a step forwards and grabbed Denya is a wide embrace.
All the blood in Denya suddenly flushed to his face as his body went ramrod stiff. His eyes widened to such an extent it seemed they were about to pop out of his skull. Quick as it came; Rena's hug vanished as she sat back down in her seat with a beaming smile. He suddenly felt a sharp digging in his ribcage and looked over to see Mion grinding her elbow into his side with a playful grin on her face.
"That's Rena for yah, heck she'd probably hug an angry bear if it was dressed in a cute kimono!" This had an apparent affect on Rena who heard it and immediately began smiling wider, if that was even possible.
"Hauuu, Kimono bear, cute! Rena wants to take it home!" Rena began shaking and gripping the edge of her desk, her eyes fixated intently on an imaginary now, Denya's mind was in a near panic, trying to comprehend what the hell was going on.
"Hi there, I'm Rika Furude and it's very nice to meet you!" On Denya's right, a young blue-haired girl who couldn't have been older that eleven walked up and happily stuck out her hand. A still-dumbstruck Denya dumbly took her small hand in his own and gently shook it. This pleased her immensely as she closed her eyes and gave him a massive grin. "Nipaa!" She squeaked happily before returning to her seat.
"Rika's the shrine-maiden for the Furude shrine as well as being the oldest in the Furude family!" Mion said helpfully. "She does all sorts of stuff, including her awesome dance for the Watanagashi festival!" Rika seemed a little embarrassed at this and her face reddened.
"Well, it's not that good." she mumbled. Mion disagreed with this.
"Don't let her fool you Denya-san, she's probably the best shrine-maiden in history-Satako, what are you doing?" Mion changed topic mid-sentence and drew Denya's attention to the young blonde girl in the desk facing Denya. She smiled sweetly and stood up to offer her hand to Denya.
"Hello Denya-san, it's very good to meet you!" Denya reached out to take her hand, only to feel a sudden explosion of buzzing and vibrating the moment their palms touched, sending a uncomfortable buzzing right down his spine.
"What the-" He yanked his hand back and stared at it for a moment, before looking back at Satako, who now had a very sinister look in her eyes and a small metal device clenched in her palm.
"Hah! Got you, and with one of the simplest traps in existence! You better watch yourself Denya-san, you better be veery careful where you walk!" She laughed sinisterly as she finished, while Denya just kept looked from his palm to hers and back again.
"Satako! What have we told you about trapping the newbies!" Mion yelled, prompting only a sly smirk from the devilish little blonde and a warning look to Denya. Again he felt Mion elbowing him in the ribs. "That's Satako for you, could probably trap Oyashiro-sama himself if she tried! She laughed at her own wit and gave Denya a hearty, and rather painful, slap on the back. "So that's the club, whatcha think?"
Up to this point since Rena's out-of-the blue hug, the poor Russian had been struggling to figure out what the hell was going on around him, and now all that confusion came out in one question.
"Uh, thanks for, uh, introducing me to everyone," He cast an odd look at Rena who just sat in her seat, glowing. "But I must ask, what is this club you keep talking about?" Denya's answer came fast and furious from Mion who straightened her shoulders and loudly announced,
"The School Club for the Students of Hinamizawa is a group dedicated to helping students of all grades and background find comrades, friendship, and to counter the increasing pressures of society placed upon younger shoulders by based upon the belief that, regardless of life challenges and paths, one can always find inner peace and relaxation through a series of extra-curricular high-stake entertainment activities and social events!" She emphasized the last point by sticking her arm triumphantly into the air, like a general making a speech to the troops. There was a moment of silence while Denya processed this, and then:
"So, you play games?" He said. Mion turned around on him, pride in her eyes.
"Darn right, and the best darn games in Hinamizawa!" She confirmed. "And I, as Club Leader, have decided to bestow upon to the honor of entry to the club as a full member!" Denya thought about this, and then slowly shook his head.
"Thanks for the offer, but sorry. This is all just kinda much, you know? Gi-give me a day to think about maybe." He said, and noticed with a twinge of guilt as the club members, Mion included, dropped their shoulders in disappointment. But Mion quickly put back on her gung-ho leader mask as she shook her head at this mistake.
"Well okay then, your loss! But remember that we're always open, so feel free to join us whenever you want!" Mion said. Just then Chie-sensei came back into the room, apologizing for how long she'd taken. Denya and Mion quietly returned to their desks, and the Russian tried to focus himself on the days work.
By lunchtime Denya was thoroughly starving, and took no comfort in his paltry lunch. He burned through his two apples in a minute, leaving him to gaze longingly at the lunches of his classmates. Behind him Mion and her club were eating together and holding an animated discussion, occasionally interrupted by bursts of laughter. Denya picked up an apple core and began to nibble at what little fruit was left.
What the hell is wrong with me? He thought, listening to the club laugh and talk. They roll out the bloody red carpet for me, and I tossed them aside like dirt! You're a real peace of work Kondrashin, you have successfully alienated yourself from four outgoing and accepting girls. He berated himself, feeling a burning self-loathing welling up inside of him.
Don't be ridiculous, they were just sucking up to make the new guy feel good. That was a sympathy show right there and nothing more, you just saved yourself a lot of awkward situations down the road. Denya reluctantly nodded in agreement with himself, give a week or two and the welcome wagon would have worn off and they'd probably treat him like any other student. Are you seriously going to let this opportunity go? Take the chance, do you really want to spend the rest of your years here alone and friendless with only that crusty old bastard of an uncle for company?
It's just an act. You're the shy new guy, they're girls, of course they'll treat you special! They're just feeling bad for the poor foreign boy living with his mean old uncle, all alone. Do you really want a friendship based on pity? That's no relationship!
And you'll never get a real relationship of any kind acting like this! Man up, go over there, and ask to be in that club! Or do you want to go home tonight to that old boot full of regrets because you didn't have the balls to say yes! Denya burrowed his head against his desk, damn his brain! Why couldn't he make up his bloody mind already? Just say it already!
"I'll join!" He blurted out louder than he anticipated. The club members all turned around in their chairs in curiosity, then all broke out into smiles.
"That's a boy, park your keister over here!" Mion said, scooching her desk over to make space in the small ring of desks. Denya scooted himself over with the rest of the group as the last of his reluctance flew out the door. As he settled into place, Rena spotted his lack of lunch.
"Denya-san? Where's your lunch?" she asked. Denya shrugged and tried to dismiss the question.
"Oh, um, I was kinda rushed for school this morning and didn't have time to pack much of anything." All thanks to a certain uncle for not waking me. He thought bitterly.
"Well, Denya-san can have some of Rena's lunch if she wants." Rena offered, pushing a plastic dish chock full of steaming rice in his direction. As if to answer for him, his stomach let out a loud growl that brought a bought of laughter from the club, except for Denya who went red in the face as he tried to turn it down.
"No, it's fine Rena-san, I don't want to take your lunch from you, you go ahead and eat it." He said, but this only seemed to invigorate Rena to donate the rice.
"No! Rena wants Denya-san to have it, Rena doesn't want her friend to go hungry all day!" Her last statement caught Denya off guard, and he quickly shot a surprised look.
"Yo-you consider me your friend? But we just met a few hours ago, we-we barely know each other!" He said in astonishment. Rena just smiled happily and pushed the food towards him, noting happily when he didn't turn it down again.
"Yeah, but Rena likes Denya-san, and if Rena and Denya-san talk, then we won't barely know each other, and you can't talk on an empty stomach!" She explained happily. Amazed eyes glued on her, Denya reluctantly reached out and took the rice, and then gratefully began to eat.
Mion shook a mental fist in success as Denya-san scooted in to join their little circle, and ended up with Rena's lunch, raising their number to five. Mion chuckled inwardly at Rena, ever the friend-maker.
Finally, someone my age to talk to! And he's not a local, hmm, this will be fun! Oh yes, this will indeed be fun! Mion thought to herself, really glad to have someone her age around more asides Shion. It's not that she didn't like Rika or Satako or Rena, it was just that she sometimes wanted to talk about things that the others didn't understand or care then from out of the blue: And it doesn't hurt he's kinda cute too." Mion jerked in her seat at this thought. Where did that come from? She let out a small frown. I've been spending a bit too much time talking to Shion. She tuned back into the club as the others welcomed him.
"So Denya-san, where did you say you come from?" Rika asked.
"Just outside of Verkhoyansk, small town in far eastern Russia."
"Really? What do your parents do?" Satako inquired. Denya began to immediately look uncomfortable.
"Uh, well my papa was a farmer, we lived on a four hundred-acre farm." He answered.
"Oh, okay, and your mother?" Satako pressed, causing Denya to merely shrug his shoulder.
"Don't know, I never knew her." He said simply. Satako's face dropped, she knew what it was like to be parent-less.
"Oh, I'm sorry." She apologized, but Denya just shrugged again.
"No problem." he said. Mion perked up at this and gave him an odd look.
"Say Denya-san, you speak Japanese really well, where did you learn it?" She inquired. Denya rolled his eyes to the ceiling for a moment before he came back to her.
"I studied it as a secondary language in school, but my papa actually taught me most of it." He said, and it struck Mion as rather odd.
"So, why'd your father bother to learn Japanese to such extent anyhow?" She asked. Denya looked kind of awkward for a moment, and then explained to them.
"Well, papa wasn't always a farmer. For a good long time he was in the Soviet Army, I guess he learned it there." This answer intrigued Mion, and he pressed on further.
"Really? Cool, what did he do?" This seemed to catch Denya off-guard, for he gave her a double take before he started to answer.
"Uh, well, you see was kinda in the, well, he was with the-" The bell rang, signifying the end of lunch period, and Mion swear Denya looked a little relieved as he turned his desk around for class.
"Alright Denya-san, you're the new guy here so listen up, I'm only go to say this once!" Mion shouted. The last of the students had just cleared out for home and Chie-sensei had retired to her office. This left the club, including the newly-acquired Denya, alone in the room with their desks all facing one another in a circle.
Denya was watching silently from his desk, listening attentively as Mion paced around them and slapped cards in front of them, explaining as she did so. "Rule number one: The winner is fully entitled to do whatever he or she wants to the losers in the form of punishment games! Rule number two: You must do absolutely whatever you can in your power to come out victorious, even if you utilize methods that lower individuals may call 'cheating.' And of course the third rule is that you must do whatever the punishment game dictates, no exception!" Mion stopped for a moment to give him a sly grin. "And sorry to burst your bubble, but be sure to keep any perverted game ideas to yourself!" Denya's face immediately flushed cherry red as his eyes widened in horror and humiliation while the girls all laughed at his discomfort.
He shot a hateful glare at Mion who dismally ignored it and sat down in her seat. "Alright everyone, the game is old maid, grab your cards and get to it!" She grabbed her cards and kicked back in her chair, her long green hair hanging back over the seat. She turned her cunning gaze on Denya, giving him the impression of a mouse being stared at by a hungry cat.
He showed no fear, and coolly slid his cards off the table with everyone else. As he raised them to his eyes, he noticed how worn and torn they were. He chuckled quietly as an idea popped into mind.
"You really oughta get some new cards, I mean these are so worn you could probably tell which ones are which if you used them long enou-" He cut off in mid-sentence, and looked up to see four sets of eyes glaring maliciously at him. His blood ran cold, and he suddenly felt like a mouse being stared at by four hungry cats.
****. He thought as he realized the awful truth. "You've got to be kidding me, you can't do this, this is cheating!" He complained weakly, painfully aware of how pathetic his words sounded. Satako laughed maliciously at his helplessness as she laid down her first cards.
"Like the rules said, you must do anything and everything you can to win." She said darkly, while the others kept their evil gaze locked on him. Denya suddenly felt very weak, and he slumped back into his chair.
"Oh no, oh no." He managed to weakly make out as the sharks closed in.
And then the slaughter began.
It was over before it started, Denya was cut to pieces three times in a row. He tried to crawl away, but Mion grabbed him and held him in place for his defeat. In the end, the Russian was eviscerated five times, Rena lost thrice, Rika and Satako tied with only two losses each, and only Mion made it through unscathed.
Now Denya watched her with a wary gaze, like she was about to pull out a cleaver and have at him. However, what she had in mind was much, much worse. Mion just smiled smuggly at him. Not much of a challenge, I hope he proves to be better than this! Hands on her hips, she kept her stare locked on him, deciding a suitable punishment. The others stood next to her, looking equally smug and amused despite their own losses.
"I think," Mion said aloud, tapping her chin. "I think that he should pay for his first loss with our most traditional punishment game, what do you guys think?" She turned towards Rika, Satako, and Rena who were all nodding their heads excitedly as the thought of what lay before the hapless boy, who regarded them all from his position in his desk with a mixture of caution and curiosity. "Satako, go get it." Mion commanded. The little blonde gave an eager salute, then vanished into the hall.
Denya wasn't sure, but judging from the shark-like grins he was receiving from others, he was in for an unpleasant experience. He wasn't sure what they would do, the worst thing he could think of was something like washing all their clothes or something similar.
So when Satako walked in carrying a fluffy white maids dress in her hands and gave it to Mion, warning bells went off in his head.
"Perfect, it'll be just perfect!" She said as he unfurled it, checking its size, and holding it up in front of Denya, who shook his head firmly.
"Nyet, I will not wear that." This did nothing but provoke more grins and laughter. He shook his head again, more aggressively this time. "Nyet, I refuse to wear that, thing." Mion gave him an evil glare, before chucking the outfit at him.
"Sorry, but this is the rule! You cannot under any circumstances refuse a punishment game!" Denya stood up and began to head for the door.
"Da, but you also said that nothing perverted!" He exclaimed, pointing at the attire.
"That was only in regards to you, god knows what filthy things are going through your mind!" Satako joined in. As they spoke, Rena and Rika had moved around to cut off his access to the door, and began to close in, forcing him towards the corner.
Denya knew exactly what they were doing, and he became more and more desperate, looking for hole in the encircling group, arguing all the way.
"My uncle's out of town, I don't even know where it is, and I'm not wandering around the village in that." He protested. Mion just smiled lightly at this and shrugged.
"Well that's not my problem now, is it?" She said, forcing Denya to flushed red in the face.
"You can't do this! I'll be a complete disgrace, you-you just can't do this to me!" He said desperately.
"Maybe this will teach you to play better then." Mion said, encroaching in to his right.
"I play just fine, it's you and those damned cards!" He yelled, now painfully aware how little space he had left.
"Language Denya-san! Maybe you should learn to think outside the box a little more, don't blame us for your failings!" Satako sniped, closing in on his left. Denya started to panic, he turned to try and run, only to trip over a desk and hit the ground hard.
"Get him!" Mion howled, and she and the others all charged in a sudden rush. Denya heard the sudden rush of footsteps and turned around just in time to see Satako, Rena, and Rika all dog-pile onto him. With a wail of despair, he was buried under them, despite his best efforts to wriggle free.
Mion stepped towards him, a sadistic grin on her face at the sight of the helpless red-faced Denya who was now shouting in a steady stream of angry Russian at his attackers, trying desperately to get free. But it was to no avail, Mion reached down and grabbed his legs and began to pull him towards the hall, and the dressing rooms.
The others all rushed to help her, dragging the screaming Russian toward his fate.
"Come on Dey-san, you can't stay in there forever!" Mion playfully called out.
"Yes I can, watch me." Came the muffled reply from behind the dressing room door. Mion rolled her eyes in frustration, this was taking too long. They'd thrown Denya into the change room almost fifteen minutes ago, and he still refused to budge. And while this banter was fun in its own way she was starting to get rather impatient, she did have duties to due at the mansion, and if she was late again, her botcha would probably kick her ass. Thankfully at that moment, Rika solved her problem by wandering up the door and calmly explaining the situation.
"But Denya-san, you'll have go eventually. And if you go later, you might get home after your uncle, and he'll see you." She said, and let the facts of that sink in. There was a long pause, and then:
"Fine, I'll come out." Denya said, sounding positively defeated. Slowly, the door swung open with a creak, to reveal a very pathetic-looking Denya-san. For a moment Mion actually felt a brief moment of pity for the sagging, bedraggled figure before. Stooped down, head bowed, and in a too-small maid outfit, the Russian was probably the most pathetic display of defeat and submission she has ever laid eyes on.
He slowly raised his eyes to meet hers, and again she felt a twinge of pity when she saw his eyes. They were loaded with sorrow and begging as he looked at her. "Please, if you have any sympathy in you at all, please kill me." He quietly pleaded.
Quick as it came, that touch of pity was gone. Mion flashed her trademark crazy-tomboy grin and grabbed the grovelling Denya and yanked him to his feet.
"Hah! No luck of that, start marching!" She ordered, and pushed him towards the door just as Rena, back from the washroom, walked in.
First thing Denya knew, he was in a position of utter and total disgrace and being shoved for the door. The next thing he knew, he was under attack.
"Hau-hauu, maid Denya-san's cuuuute, hauuu, RENAWANTSTOTAKE HIM HOOOOME!" A squeal of delight rang out from behind him, and before he could look to see what it was, he found himself being impacted by one hundred and thirty pounds of fiercly determined Rena Ryuugu in full kaaii mode.
His first reaction was to immediately wriggle free, but he soon found that impossible due to Rena being about as strong as a Kodiak bear. But as he writhed and squirmed, a memory flashed to mind. In a sudden spasm of limbs and twirl of his frame, Rena was sent flying into the wall
Denya wasted no time in scrambling to his feet, and in doing so he flashed more legging that he'd have ever wished, bringing a cry of disgust from the three girls behind him.
"Geez Dey-san, do we really need to see you scrawny white chicken legs?" Mion cried out, but Denya was to concerned to respond. Running over to the crumpled Rena, he quickly turned her over, concern written all over his face.
"Rena-san, are you okay? Are you hurt too badly?" He asked. Rena just opened her eyes, smiled, and cast him another adoring look.
"Hauuu, concerned Denya-san is cuuuuteee…" She trailed off as her mind shifted back into her kaaii-mode, causing Denya to reflexively drop and back up several steps, before looking to Mion for help. She just gave him a warning look while Satako and Rika moved to restrain their possessed friend.
"You better run boy, we won't be able to hold her forever!" She warned, motioning him towards the door. Denya shook at the thought of walking outside dressed up, but another look at the already-raving Rena was all the motivation he needed to, haltingly, walk out the class and outside.
For the rest of his days Denya would try and burn that memory from his mind. Bent down low in utter humiliation with cheeks flushed cherry red, he marched home with an entourage of girls behind him. Whenever he dared look up he would spot the disgusted glance from one of the villagers as he marched past. Unbeknownst to him however, a few looks of sympathy sailed his way from parents of other students who knew of the club and its nefarious activities.
Rena split ways to head home half-way to his house thankfully, and Mion did likewise, claiming she'd only been there to restrain Rena. Satako ran circles around him the whole way home, helpfully shouting out to villagers that Denya was a pervert who liked to wear girls clothing. Rika just walked beside him and smiled, occasionally holding his hand, and generally just enjoying herself at his expense.
Home couldn't arrive soon enough, and Denya didn't bother to return the girls goodbyes. He just charged down the walk and the door, pausing only to hastily unlock it. Slamming it behind him, he leaned against it, panting as the day's events played through his head. He looked down at the maids outfit again, and was suddenly galvanized into action by the thought that he would not wear this damned thing a moment longer.
Pulling and ripping the cursed thing off, he marched upstairs and hurled it on his bed. He fished out a pair of clothes and pulled them on; fuming that they'd forced him to leave his school uniform at home. Dragging the maid suit downstairs, he threw it into the washing machine, dumped in some detergent, and turned it on, fulfilling the last part of the punishment game.
Exhausted by the day's events, he made his way to the living room and slumped on the couch, his uncle had an oddly western taste. He checked his watch, still two hours before uncle Tojo got home. He sank back into the soft cushions, rubbing his face against his palm, as he looked back on his first day in Himanizawa.
To his own shock, he realized that, despite the humiliation and the indignity, he actually had, he'd had fun. He shook his head in amusement at the realization. Here he was, home from a long day of embarrassment and complete degradation, and yet he could honestly not bring himself to harbor dark thoughts for club.
As Denya thought about it though, he was more and more amazed at how un-Denya he'd acted. Back home he'd been wary and guarding against over-friendly people, and he'd been damn near unresponsive to the girls. He usually ended up edging out of the conversation with any of the girls as quick as he could due to his near-paralysing shyness.
But here, for whatever reason, he'd not only been pulled into their little club, he'd acted out! He'd laughed, grinned, played. I was happy. He marveled to himself as he got up and wandered over to the kitchen. Popping open the fridge uncovered half a bottle of red wine that caught his eye. He snatched a glass from the cupboard and filled it two thirds full, to hell with whatever the age restrictions were over here, if he felt like some wine he'd damn well have some wine.
"What are you doing Kondrashin, you're getting in awful deep here." He muttered to himself before taking a drink, which he nearly spat out. "What the hell?" He frowned as he grabbed the bottle and held it to his face. Rice wine? What the hell was this garbage? He dumped the rest of his glass in the sink and washed it out, no point in pissing of his uncle more than his being there already did.
He headed back to the couch, rubbing his head. Day one in Hinamizawa, he already had four friends. Part of him was screaming for him to back up, that this was going too fast, that he should slow down. Another part was berating him, still holding onto the possibility that this was all a pity act that they'd stop playing once he settled in.
But another part of him, the biggest part of him was throwing caution to the winds. The rollercoaster of fate had just taken a major dip in the tracks, and whether it was for better or worse, he just wanted to go along with the ride and see where he'd end up.
And so Denya Kondrashin, son of Sergeant Viktor Kondrashin, settled down in his uncle's couch with a glass of water and flipped on the television and threw caution to the winds. He had a new chance, a new start at life in Hinamizawa. And he was going to face it head on and enjoy it, not hide from it. "To a new beginning." He whispered to himself as he raised the glass in toast.
Little did he know what horrors this brand new world held in store.
