Xaltwind — Roleplayer Guild

Minami Futsuno

@TheNoCOKid

Early morning. Still dark outside.

The blaring of an incessant, unyielding alarm clock.

The sensation of something wet and soft squishing against her cheek.

Eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the murk of the lightless bedroom, illuminated only by the glow from the neon signs and street lights outside the window. Cookie was sitting next to her pillow, staring at his sleeping human, letting out a soft but firm meow. It was time for breakfast.

Getting up, the red tabby followed close behind her feet, until the kitchen was reached. The littl furball circled her ankles and meowed while he heard the whirring noise of the electric can-opener unsealing this morning's feast. The human, rubbed her eyes and yawned, then plopped the mass of wet food into her cat's bowl, which said cat almost pounced upon in an instant and began to devour with reckless abandon, as if he'd never eaten before in his life.

Next, the shower. Followed by a quick brushing of her hair.

What's the point?

Then it was time for her own breakfast, accompanied by watching the TV, morning broadcast. Weather was going to be cloudy. Slight chance of rain. HEr horoscope? Who cared. In 24 years it had never been accurate anyway. Time to get dressed. Even though she wanted this quiet, peaceful time to last forever, and do nothing but give her full attention to her roommate, today was a weekday. Which meant work. Which meant another week of the usual.

Time to go.

...

The trains were packed, as usual. Even though she got on at an early hour there were never any seats. People bumped into her, as usual. Some even shoved her asiue. Nobody apologized. She didn't say anything. Even if they did, they wouldn't hear. Or they'd ignore her. Or they'd yell at her. It was almost her fault, after all. The train stopped, then started, over and over, a repeating cycle. More people always got on than those getting off. This must be how sardines feel.

Finally, her stop. Time to get off.

Though not before being tossed and bumped aside a few times, and taking an elbow or two for the team.

...

The office.

Walking in through the doors, the receptionist didn't even greet her. Too busy talking on the phone and painting her nails. Had they ever talked? Maybe the first few times she'd started as an intern here. No. That one was a brunette. It didn't really matter. They all looked the same. Young pretty girls who dressed stylish and got lots of invitations to lunch or after-hours outings.

The elevator.

"Oh look, it's Futsuno. Heeey, better hurry up, the lift's about to go."

A voice, full of venomous glee. Co-worker. What was her name? Aoba? Aono? She did this every morning, so you'd think she could remember to hold the door. But no. Again, she let the elevator doors slide close, right infront of her face. Smirking all the while, tutting. Did she eepect Minami to run? She had. In the past. The first few weeks. Then she'd learned. She was never going to catch that first elevator ride.

Waiting.

More waiting.

Time ticked. No more waiting. Time to use the stairs. It was such a pain. The door to the stairwell was heavy, and there were so many steps. She always felt exhausted when finally getting to her floor. Perhaps it was good for cardio? But she never felt like she got used to it, or that it got any easier. Perhaps she was just inherently frail. No matter, time to get to work.

...

"Futsuno! You're late, again."

The manager's voice. Waiting on the other side of the stairwell door. He knew she was coming. Of course hd did. As for being late... She was a minute and a half over, and only because she didn't get to use the elevator. Of course, he didn't care. In the six years she'd been here, he never accepted excuses, even if they were factual.

A long tirade of complaints about a lack of motivation and dedication to the company followed, as usual. She could see Aoba-Aono off at her cubicle, snickering along with some of the other, pretty girls. The manager noticed her focus was elsewhere, and stomped his foot. She instinctively let out a surprised noise and shrunk back. Bowing profusely and apologizing quietly. Why was she apologizing? She'd done nothing wrong. She never did. But she was always the one saying 'sorry' no matter what.

The man grew bored of the charade and dismissed her, warning her to shape up.

Her desk.

As usual, a wilted flower infront of her keyboard. How many did this make now? She sighed and threw it in the trash bin, before sitting down and booting up her computer. The grind begins anew.

...

Lunch-time.

Well, for everyone else. Not her though.

"Futsuno, take care of these."

A large stack of paperwork was dropped on her desk.

"Ms. Futsuno, I need these looked over before qutting time today."

Another stack appeared.

"Hey Futsu-whatwasit? Anyway, I'm heading out early to hang with my girlfriend, you'll cover for me, yeah? Thanks."

No time to respond or protest. She had. Once. In the early years. Then she'd gotten the stink-eye and been told that just because she was a sad, lonely and unpopular dyke she shouldn't take it on others.

Today's lunch seemed to be another vending-machine sandwich. Joy.

"Hey, Futsuno. Could you run and get me asome coffee real quick, I'm swamped."

Said the man sitting next to her, who didn't even have a single stack of papers on his desk. Yes, he always asked. And if she didn't go, he started whining and clicking his tongue at her. And when she fetched it, he never said thanks.

"Hey, Ms. Futsuno, the manager wants to talk to you about the work you submitted last week."

Of course hd did. Because it was either not up to his standards, or someone had messed with her documents after she'd gone home. It was almost a weekly ritual by now. She watched the others. Average-looking guys, asking the pretty office ladies out to lunch. The pretty guys, asking the even prettier girls out for drinks. The really handsome guys, making plans to go hang out with what could only be assumed to be litteral models or bombshell-knock-outs after work.

Nobody invited her. To lunch or drinks. They never had. They never would.

Time to go listen to another undeserved scolding. She could feel her spine shiver.

...

6:45 PM.

Another almost 12 hour workday. Overtime not paid, of course. After all, you only get paid for overtime if you were doing work, not correcting your own mistakes or incompetence. Someone had hidden her jacket again though. Probably written on the inside of it with a magic marker too. What was this, pre-school? Was this how adults should act? She sighed.

Oh.

There it was.

In the trash. Along with the flower from this morning. Wonderful.

Grabbing it and shaking it free of... Other trash... She slipped it on and made way to the elevator. Aoba-Aono was there, along with some of the other ladies. Some she didn't even recognize. Maybe they were from another department? Looks like they weren't closing the door on her this time. Wow. That could only mean one thing, of course.

"Oh, hey, look! It's Ms. Futsuno. Finally done cleaning up your mess?"

"Y-Yes..."

"What? I didn't catch that, speak up!"

"Yes... I'm all done..."

"Seriously, I don't get why they even hired someone like you. You're always messing up."
"Now, now, Asuka, don't be like that. It's not her fault. After all, she only graduated high school. It's not like she's actually got the proper education for this kind of work."
"Oh, that's right! I forgot, soooorry~ My bad, I totally spaced that you were a college-flunkie."
"... I never... applied..."
"Huuh? What was that?"
"I never applied... to... college..."
"Well, duh! Not like it would've done you any good. Someone like you couldn't get in, even at a low-entrance backwater university in the boonies."

They all laughed. Like it was the most hilarious thing in the world. Why wans't the stupid elevator at the bottom yet? She just wanted to go home. Spending time in this tiny space, surrounded by these cackling sirens was worse than long nails dragging across a chalk-board.

"Oh yeah, did I hear right, Akemi? Tsuda asked you out on a date?"
"Oh, you heard that? Eheh, yeah, he did."
"Way to go girl, he's a total hottie. I'm so jelly."
"Jeez, what're you even saying? You get aske dout way more often than I do."
"Yeah, but only by the bench-warmer rejects. Like I'd ever give the likes of them a shot with me. They're more suited for someone like her."
"Hmm, but I don't think I've seen anyone ask Ms. Futsuno out..."
"Right! She's been here like, what? Five years+ And hasn't gotten a single guy to ask her out! Hilarious!"

More laughing.

But at least the elevator had finally reached the bottom. The doors slid open. But the others didn't seem to want to move. But she wanted off. Now. Right now. She pushed, squeezing past two of the taller ladies next to the door. They let out outraged gasps. As if they'd been touched by something filthy and unpleasant. Aono-Aoba Asuka-or-whatever called out for her. But she was done. She didnt want to stay and listen to anymore. She just wanted to go home to Cookie.

Home. The one plcae she didn't have to hear or see these other human beings.

...

Street on the way to the train-station. She felt like someone was following her. But that couldn't be right. Why would anyone do that? Most people didn't evens ee her when walking.. Some just bumped into her and didn't say a word.

She though she heard a voice, one she knew.

Then.

It happened.

Something caught her foot, in the middle of the street.

She fell.

And fell.

And... Fell...?

...

Minami opened her eyes, having clsoed them instintively when she started falling. She was... Not falling... But also she was...? Or rather, she was in mid-fall, but was perfectly still. Suspended? Time-stop? Miniature black hole? Regardless, one thing was for sure. At the current trajectory, her skull was about to give the edge of the sidewalk a very intimate greeting.

Ah. So that was it. This was one of those things she'd heard about somewhere. The whole, life-flashing-before-your-eyes just before you die.

Die.

Death.

Dying?

Why? How? For what reason?

Even if she thought back on her life and her past, nothing made this situation any less unfair. A father who was never home and prefered to work than spend time with his wife and kid. A mother who prefered to fool around with strange men. A school with daily bullying. Weekeneds with no friends. Watching everyone else get chocolates on Valentine. Watching all the other girls get confessions and love-letters. Getting nothing except mockery or being ignored. Forgotten. A shadow. A living ghost. A lynch-pin and punching bag. That was her life. Her life. Minami Futsuno's life. ... Had it ever been a lfie worth living?

Even though time seemed to have stopped and she was frozen in the moment just before her head would be smashed open like a watermelon on the beach during summer, she could feel something. Somehting she hadn't felt in a while. They were tears. But not because she was sad. Well, she was, but mostly she was frustrated.

"Is this it? This. I'm going to die on a sidewalk because I tripped? No... Someone tripped me. Hah, of course. Of course this is how I go."

An inner monologue formed.

"The ugly, incompetent, unwanted Minami, died because she fell on the groound, in the middle of a crowded street. And not a single crap was given. Look, that kid's even using his phone to film this. Thanks, brat. You couldn't have tried to help or call out for someone instead?"

There was bitterness and resentment.

"Oh, Minami, Minami, Minami... What a wasted life you lead, huh? When those other kids talked down to you, you should've stood up for yourself. But you didn't. Of course not, you were too scared. They were bigger and stronger, and there were more of them. That's what you always told yourself. You couldn't do anyhting, because you were weak, because you didn't have the courage, because you even if you did say or fight back, you just couldn't win, could you?"

She laughed, but it wans't because she was amused. The tears were streaming more heavily now too.

"I... I just wish... I just wanted... To be like... Others... Why couldn't I be pretty like the other girls? Why... Why couldn't I talk back when people were calling me crap? I... I wanted to be brave and strong and cool... I didn't want this... this scrawny bod' that got tired from mothing... And... I wanted to live a long life, with Cookie. Oh, Cookie... My dear... sweet... kitty. The only family I had, picking you up off the street... Bringing you home."

Profuse sniffling and voice aquiver. Sorrow, anxiety, grief, anger, jealousy, hatred, hopelessness.

"... If I... If I ever got to be pretty... No, if I was ever a babe, I'd snub all those pretty-boy-casanovas only interested in tits and asses... I'd make those self-absorbed, try-hard popular girls see just how outmatched they were... I... I'd have the confidence not to back down from anyone...! ... I don't... want to... die..."

... But, time sped up again.

And there was only a cracking splat.
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