Chapter 2: Sea Green

Waking up from that unusual dream was a little unnerving.

The beep of my alarm was deafening, so much that I was tempted to chuck it out the window and possibly onto the roof of a moving car. Of course, I did not, especially when the people owning the car would probably fine me for a large amount since I'd be at the base of many car accidents, which in reality my flying alarm had caused. Unfortunately, I knew that a tedious amount of people would rather blame me than the annoying alarm; however, I understood their reasonable judgment.

Therefore, I didn't fling the noisy clock out the window after a few strikes to the crown, which not only caused my hand to ache but also it seemed that the volume of the alarm increased, although I did hurl it to the floor. After the clock had plummeted to the carpet, the earsplitting crack the alarm had made stunned me into thinking that I'd have to buy a new device. Still, as this repetitive scene occurred, another sense of déjà vu calmly washed over me like the soft lapping of waves, reminding me that I should be used to this situation already.

I sighed, overturning in the sheer silk sheets and silently observed the quiet activity outside in the urban city from behind erect blinds. Peaceful silence soothed my ears after that startling burst of noise; I tried to savor the bliss of it all, but knowing that the infuriating blare had rattled me awake it was hard to appreciate stillness of the moment with ringing ears. Without a moment of serenity to start my day, I glumly forced myself to crawl out of bed, hissing and groaning as the light that poured through the apertures of the blinds seared my narrowing eyes.

I stumbled across the tiny living room; my sight obscured with large blue and green patches, and immediately slammed my leg against the small coffee table. Grunting in pain and clutching my bruised shin, I began to take my time in advancing towards the kitchen, pausing for a small second to rethink whether walking into a cramped area with sharp objects and scorching surfaces along with temporarily impaired eyesight was really a smart idea. Instead, I waited until the dark blotches in my prospect faded and walked into the kitchen with ease. However, the pain in my lower left leg wasn't even close to dissipating, causing some minor limping and maybe even a fair bruise.

I took a long glance at the metal pot filled with the leftovers of yesterday's meal, and decided that it will not become my breakfast for the day. Instead, it shall be my dinner. After setting my dinner plans, I craved for something light and quick yet filling for breakfast. The result for thinking so, miso soup was to be the entrée I'd prepare to start the day off on a lighter note. The icy clang of metal against metal echoed in the kitchen as I replaced the occupied cauldron on the stove with a smaller pot. Clear liquid splashed against the sides of the cooking vessel as it was set down onto the warmed surface.

With a loud zip and a click, I turned the stove dial to the highest setting and left the kitchen. With a simple press of a button, the TV was on as I commenced to sit on the darkened couch. Out of tendency, I stretched out my arms over the couch and roughly crossed my legs as the commercial break ended. Not that I really cared, as watching one celebrity bashing about another was somewhat entertaining, yet not amusing enough, and with that final thought I switched channels without a twitch of the brow.

I continued to browse the networks, again watching the incandescent glow of the TV cast different colors against the dark coffee table. However, it wasn't long until the roar of bubbles reached my recovering ears. I sighed, and forced myself off the snug couch and strode over to the kitchen, brusquely shaking a packet of instant miso and tearing the paper packet open. The gentle singe of the steam against my palm blossomed while I poured the chalky contents of the instant dish into the water with a soft slither. Tapping off the excess clumps that accumulated because of the steam, I watched in keen silence as the boiling liquid easily consumed the rust-colored powder and soon transformed into a dusty brown color, which later clotted into a light cloud in the center of the pot. Green flecks of dehydrated onions quietly floated to the top until a forceful air bubble shoved the small speckles back to the bottom, as the darker strips of seaweed peeked and disappeared through the dissolved cloud of miso.

I tucked a stray piece of flaxen hair back behind my ear while turning the dial to the OFF selection and poured my warm breakfast into a shallow bowl. Because there was no dining room to eat at, I simply sat on the leather couch at base of the TV, cautiously placing a marbled coaster to shield the dark cherry wood table from any dull marks.

The TV blared continuously while I commenced to sip at the warm soup, the screen presenting me with another attempt to capture my interest, and again, I abolished the effort by pressing the small rubber button. The monitor then showed a simple cooking show, and being a little annoyed by all the wild content the other shows displayed, I quite enjoyed the fact that one part of the television network was still sane—at least in my eyes. The cheery woman on the allegedly calm cooking show, however, had appeared a little too optimistic to be authentic. It was a quite an unfortunate situation and I was honestly disappointed that the actions of the young woman wasn't genuine. I personally thought that it would've made the cooking show a lot more delightful.

With a sigh, I leveled the remote with the screen of the electronic before me that had grown rather annoying during the many times I had made an effort to indulge in a bit of modern technology, and with a press of a button, the TV shut off. No matter, I was finished with my miso anyways. After cleaning up the remains of my breakfast, I trod into the bathroom and took a quick look at my appearance, and smirked.

I was not the exemplar of beauty nor was I in any way, a model. My occupation was currently as a waiter for a small, unpopular café because I simply needed a bit more money to not only pay for my school tuition, but to satisfy my wants and needs. Despite that, people told me countless times that my face resembled a porcelain doll, and my pale skin, fair hair, and wide, glassy eyes encouraged heaps of flattery regardless of age. I'd reflect on the situation where one would call me a doll, and I'd consider it as a compliment concerning the fact that western dolls were the image of beauty and perfection. Because of this, I have maintained this inspirited, doe-eyed look for years. It really did flatter the young, and because my features were more child-like and youthful, it worked out faultlessly.

Patting at my slightly flushed face after a pleasantly tepid shower, I repeatedly splashed my face with cold water and resumed drying the tightened skin with light taps. Staring back at myself from the dull, steam-covered mirror, I found that my appearance satisfied me and continued with my conventional make-up routine, finishing it with a light dusting of gold on my eyelids after a few swipes of dark mascara to crimped lashes.

By the time I finished my morning routine as a whole, the previous hushed morning of the city became the afternoon ruckus complete with thunderous cars and panicking students shoving around the municipal crosswalks and markets. Although I was quite used to going outside during these disastrous conditions, the number of civilians swarming the road have increased, making it a little tough to walk around without losing composure.

I stared out the large ceiling-to-floor window at the end of my apartment, my face contorting into an expression equivalent to distain as I observed the great amount of social activity taking place. As I was never a social butterfly to begin with, large crowds in addition to clusters of smaller groups aggravated me. Unfortunately, in all the years I've been living in Tokyo, never have I seen the city deprived of such things. Nevertheless, I snatched a stylish blue parka off the gnarled hooks along with my disheveled leather purse, mumbled a quick, "I'm leaving," And rushed out the door to relieve myself of boredom for the day.

The transparent glow of the sun cast against the stones of the tall buildings and reflected as scattered speckles off the electronic billboards of Tokyo, and the large windows of the skyscrapers. Seeing the city radiate with such soft light made me forget the distasteful commotion in the streets and gape in awe at the beauty of the large, industrial city. Never has the famous Eastern Capital failed to strike my heart in such a way, and even as the years passed, the magnificence in no way had died down. It was why walking around in this conurbation was always a pleasure.

As I happened to cross through the intersection alongside the large energetic mass of people, my purse inaugurated into a series of loud vibrations with bursts of high-pitched music and had startled not just I, but the natives closest to me. It had taken me quite some time to reach the crying electronic, as I couldn't recall where I had last placed it and it wasn't long before a few citizens had directed a few looks of annoyance towards me. Brushing those small insults off with a phone clutched in hand, I began to check any unread messages and to my surprise, the provider of the text was a middle-school companion, Hatsune Miku, the girl who I also came across the day before.

Pleasing warmth somehow emanated within my body as I read her cheerful text with a soft smile. It was only a simple, "Hi, how are you?" However, to me its significance was much more than a mere four words. I replied quickly with, "I'm doing great, thanks for asking. So what's up?" In addition, I refused to toss my golden cell back into my purse to save face. As expected, an almost immediate reply rang back and I was pleasantly surprised when reading the contents.

"Do you want to do something today?"

Those words rang loud, the merry resonance, however, reaching my ears only a bit after as my head and heart seemed to have been soaring elsewhere. The warmth in my chest grew tight until I felt like butterflies had entered my stomach. If I spoke any words aloud, they'd flutter out of my mouth and into the vast city, thus, I tightly sealed my mouth shut with a wide grin. Fortunately, I didn't have any scheduled plans for the day besides aimlessly strolling around while attempting to find a nice shop to eat, which is why I typed back, "That'd be great! How about we set off out to lunch, then we can go shopping?"

With a shrill, my phone blared for only a moment before I had eagerly my thumb to press the, "View Now," button in anticipation of Miku's reply, which was no doubt high in spirits. After agreeing on the meeting vicinity, it being the popular Shibuya intersection, I exhaled a content sigh, lifting my shoulders in happiness as I walked, motivated by the upcoming event. Although we had met the day before, we only briefly mused over our foolish actions when we were younger and it was quite the shame to have left on a sour tone. My lips curved into a bitter smile when remembering that I had interrupted Miku on such a short notice. Maybe today was a day where I can atone for that incident.

The longer I walked towards the famous junction the streets gradually condensed with people. Citizens as well as a large handful of foreigners popped in and out of the streets from all directions, causing any factions or cliques to merge into one whole group of social activity. To be honest, it was as if someone went and decided to fill my brain with an active hive of buzzing bees. The volume of the meek conversations grew to a point that could make anyone believe that reaching a single second of silence was bleak. I held in the urge to run back into my cozy, private apartment as I shoved my way through the sidewalks and rushed to get across before the light turned red, only thinking in anticipation about the excitement I'd feel throughout the day. Provoked by my wandering thoughts, I then began to walk with a small hop in my step rather than the steady pace I casually abandoned, quickening rhythm and elongating my strides to enable a faster arrival.

Because of my impatience, I entered the Shibuya area fifteen minutes after I had left the University district, five minutes early from the scheduled gathering time. I bit my lip in disgust as I stood awkwardly at the edge of the walkway, watching as young teenage girls and boys made their way from store to store, giggling and joking around with each other as if it were normal. An indignant smirk twisted on my lips as unpleasant memories from my teen years evoked. It wasn't the happiest time of my life, bearing in mind that my best friends left for another place leaving me to grovel in the dust for more. Of course, I didn't even attempt to replace my loyal companions, as they were truly one of a kind. This made my high school life more the sadistic, in the least dramatic way possible.

Before I could begin to remember about the past, the dainty taps of an index finger poked at my shoulder and interrupted my train of thought. As instinct overcame me, I withdrew and turned to face the stranger who caught my attention, and with a gasp of surprise, the cool feeling of relief prevented my cry of alarm to reach the ears of justice.

The young woman raised a manicured hand with a flutter of fingers, the sea-green three-dimensional nail art waving around as if boasting to others of its perfection. "Ah, Rin-chan. Great day it is to go shopping, no?"