canaryrose
Remram
ErosSense
Redacted
TokyoPewPew
Nani
Festive
Xaltwind
OliveYou
Kronshi
Arashiyama Junko
Arashiyama Junko
Arashiyama Junko
She breathed in, then out, and with explosive strength, exerted herself to her fullest. Quads straining, back tightening, abs hardened beneath the layers of fat that masked them. A vein bulged over her temple, teeth clenched into a grimace of a smile. For a moment, the bar, cold and unyielding, pressed against her chest, as if to squash her flat. But it was simply a pause, before she thrust it up upwards, held it up, then allowed it to drop down upon the floor once more. Even through the cushioning, the floor shook, plates clattering together as she drew in a deep, long breath.
Mornings were no longer spent in the mountains, for her obligations were too many to enable her to go on such flights of fancy to Minamikawa, but the heiress didn’t mind too much either. The estate’s personal gym had been unused until she occupied it, upgraded it, made it her own space. And now once more, she squatted deep, knuckles crackling as she gripped the bar.
Click, clack.
But it was not the dozen cast iron plates that made that sound.
…
She took tea, her mother took coffee. Outside, cherry blossom buds formed a shade that brought up the bright sunlight that filtered in through the glass wall. Hosakono, the housekeeper, had made the meal, of course, a Japanese affair that nevertheless also including a heaping pile of eggs, sausage, and bacon to support the young lady’s growth, but her mother always took it upon herself to brew something to drink. Sure, her daughter still took a tall glass of milk alongside classier beverages, but breakfast was perhaps the only meal the two still shared with each other. Lunch was separate, while dinners were taken at separate times, what with the dance studio’s hours and Junko’s own extracurriculars.
It was a precious thing. A time to hear about each other’s yesterdays, a time for mother to remind the daughter of her manners, to bask in sunlight before their paths diverged.
Click, clack.
But it was not a teacup set against a delicate saucer that made that sound.
…
Acquaintances and followers gravitated towards her as the tram made its way through the city. Some sat in silence, basking in her presence. Others spoke with each other, about the various efforts they’ve made to obtain their own goal, whether it be in their hobbies, their future professions, their physical milestones, or their love lives. Still more greeted her directly, seeking validation through her responses. So of course, she obliged. The book she read was a notebook, matching names with faces, people with their constituent hobbies, and her voice rumbled with a severe weight. Some, she praised. Others, she criticized. Still more, she questioned.
Was that their best foot forward? Was that what they truly needed? Far too many in this world lacked the ability to be self-aware, to reflect upon their own actions, especially during the tumultuous times of adolescence. The tram continued to rock, the people continued to sway. Junko remained stalwart, stable. A cairn dressed in a high school student’s uniform.
Click, clack.
But it was not the sound of wheels crossing metal rails that made that sound.
…
The first day of the third year.
The last first day she’ll have in Kumoriyama Private High.
The last festivals, the last celebrations, the last exams, the last chances.
Junko placed a hand over her heart, feeling the slow, steady, powerful throbbing within her chest. Good. There were no regrets, no anxiety. Only the recognition that this would be the last time she viewed these blossoms from this angle, the last time she could stand amongst these budding sprouts as a peer.
She would make it count.
The next generation of leaders will be raised in the Judo Club, and her fellow third years will put on a performance that would surpass their accomplishments last year. She would sharpen her academic performance such that she would earn a full scholarship from Tokyo University into their Sports Science department. She would make sure that every one she leaves behind in Kumoriyama would be in a better place than they were the year before.
Heavy, purposeful strides brought her to the final classroom she’d be sitting in, to faces that she had become familiar with over the course of the last three years.
Junko smiled, the morning light glinting prismatically over the lens of her glasses, a spring breeze from the open window playing with a strand of silver hair.
“Rise! Stand! Bow! Sit!”
Like echoes off the mountainside. Like a lightning strike to shake off the lethargy of Spring Break. Like Arashiyama Junko, who had made this call without fail for every day of her student life.
Click-Clack.
It was the sound of the gears of fate turning, promising a year like no other.
But Junko simply thought it was a student closing the window before spring allergies swept in and triggered a cacophony of sneezes unbecoming of this solemn last, first day.
