Whatever. It's done. (Miki: Profanity and Content Warning)

[themocaw]

I was eight years old on the day that I lost my hand.

I was out back behind the orphanage, playing with my friends. We'd gone out a little further into the jungle than we usually did, looking for frogs in the streams. There was something shining under a tree stump. I reached out for it. When I woke up, my hand was gone.

All because some ten-year old kid set up a landmine under some random tree twenty years ago.

I still hate seeing my stump, to this day. That puckered, scarred skin from where the shrapnel tore into the flesh. Ugly. Cover it up. Don't let the world see it.

And that was about it for me ever getting adopted. No one wants a to adopt a crippled Cambodian orphan girl when you there's an entire country full of beautiful intact ones, right?

It was always the same. The white people would come by the orphanage, excited to be noble caretakers to some poor third-world brat who needed a good home. The orphanage would put me front and center. The white people would look at me. . . and they'd see that ugly stump that used to be my hand. "Sorry, we don't want any damaged goods, let me see the good stuff."

Whatever. Fuck those assholes. I don't need to be some white guy's charity case anyway.

-----

I was eleven years old on the day that I met my father.

He was this Japanese businessman who came by the orphanage. He wanted to adopt a child. The orphanage owners brought me out to meet him, as usual. He looked at me. . . and he nodded. Pointed. Give me that one. I'll take the damaged goods.

Adoption papers were signed almost immediately. I got a new name. Miki Miura. I was leaving behind the orphanage and the land mines. Everyone knew I was going to a better place.

He fucked me for the first time in the hotel room waiting for his flight back to Tokyo. I honestly can't say I was too surprised. Figured there was a catch to this: not like he really wanted me for who I was. I was damaged goods, after all. The one that you pick up because you don't want to pay full price for the real thing.

Whatever. Fuck him. I hope he burns in hell.

-----

I was fourteen years old on the day they came to arrest my father.

He'd fucked up. He couldn't just have me for himself. He had to share me. Had to put the pictures of himself fucking this little orphaned girl he'd adopted onto the internet for his pervert friends to jack off to. He especially liked showing off my stump of a left hand. He liked making me use it on him. That was his mistake.

It turns out that there's not really all that many one-handed Cambodian orphans in Japan. The cops came for him and took me away. They threw him in prison. I hope he's still there. I hope he enjoys taking it up the ass from some huge sumo-wrestler type who likes to make child molesters squeal.

And me? I was "Girl A." The victim. No one wanted me. I couldn't go back home. No relatives. The government had to do something with me. Turned out there was this school for crippled kids. Fantastic. I'll fit right in. Just another set of damaged goods in the discard pile.

Whatever. Fuck them all. Not like they ever gave a shit about me in the first place.

-----

I was fifteen years old on the day that I met Emi Ibarazaki.

I hated that bitch. Lost both her legs and her dad in a car accident. Boo hoo. She had her mother to take care of her. She had the best that Japan's medical system could offer. She didn't spend her childhood in a dirty goddamn orphanage being passed up by everyone who wanted to adopt her. She can suck a cock in hell. Word is she did plenty of that anyway. Sucking cock, that is. She had the lips for it, at least.

First day of school, we both tried out for the track team. I did it mostly because I wanted to have something to do. My guidance counselor insisted that I do something extracurricular. I tried to argue that those clubs and sports shit is supposed to be optional. That bitch told me that in my case, it was a mandatory option. Whatever. Fuck her.

I figured that the track team would be easy street: go down to the track, run around a bit, call it a day. First thing they had us do was 100 meter sprints, and I end up next to this stupid-looking bitch who's trying to pull off these girly looking twin pony tails and not really doing it. She's got no legs below the knee, just these screwed up looking robot deals. Easy street. I'm sure I can outrun some legless bitch, right?

She comes out of the gate faster than anyone I've ever seen. Her legs move like pistons. She's racing down the red clay like a lightning bolt. Blows right past me like a bullet.

Wham. Just like that. She's gone.

Crosses the finish line a full second and a half before any of us do. Everyone's standing around congratulating her. The track team captain's got this hungry look. She's got this huge pack of people hanging around her. That's Emi Ibarazaki for you: popular from the very start.

Whatever. Fuck her. She's not gonna be my friend.

-----

I'd just turned sixteen years old on the day that Emi Ibarazaki became my friend.

She was the first. Four months on the track team, and I still didn't give a shit about my teammates. I guess I kinda had a reputation as the scary bitch who'd just as soon kick your ribs in as look at you. Not that I gave a shit about that, either.

She was the one who found out that it was my birthday, and put a small party together. Nothing much. A little cake, some drinks, a round of singing and some cheap present that they chipped in to buy for me. Whatever.

She didn't let me leave until I'd thanked everyone for the party, and enjoyed myself a little bit. Eh. Whatever. It was fun times, I guess. Afterwards, I asked her why she'd done that. I mean, it's not like I was her friend, right? Why go through all the trouble?

"Because you're on my team," she said. That was all. The whole reason.

Whatever. Fuck it. She wants to waste her time like that, let her.

-----

I was still sixteen the first time she made me laugh.

I don't even remember what it was that did it, some stupid joke, but she smiled at me and told me that I looked pretty when I laughed. I should do it more. Felt good.

Some of my fangirls didn't like that I'd changed. Thing about teenage girls: they always fall in love with the person they think you are, not the person you really are. They'd built up this mystique around me: I was the cool foreign athlete who never showed her emotions. The one that they got wet over because I was a lot like what they like in a boy, but without a scary cock for them to get grossed out over.

They whined a lot that Emi was ruining me. They claimed that I wasn't as cool as I used to be.

Whatever. Fuck them. Brainless twats can go fuck a cactus for all I care.

-----

I was seventeen the first time she kissed me.

We were in the PE storage room putting away the starting blocks. She closed the door behind us and pushed me down onto the mats and kissed me. I took off her shirt. She took off mine. We fucked.

We did a lot of fucking that year. We'd catch moments behind the toolshed, in the hallways, in our rooms. She liked it best when I ate her out in the shower. Fun times.

Didn't last long. Things. . . fell apart. She wanted to keep it on the down low. I wanted her fully, openly. To hell with what the world thinks, we're in love, right? Wrong. I was just some fuck toy to her: a cunt with legs for her to play around with. She never introduced me to her family. Guess she didn't want them to think that she was some kinda dyke. Never took me to her dad's grave, even though I knew all about her past. Hell, to this day, she still lets people think that her mysterious lover during her second year was a guy.

Whatever. Fuck her. She can go suck cocks in hell.

-----

I'm eighteen now. This is my last year.

I quit the track team. Didn't want to keep seeing her. They ask me to run in the track meets sometimes, though. I do my part. Leave as quickly as I can. I don't like to keep seeing her. It kinda hurts to do so.

The last time I saw her, she'd bumped into some guy in the hallway. Poor fuck looked like he'd nearly had a heart attack. She was giving him the eye. That same look that she gave me just before we fucked in the PE room: that predator's grin. I'd warn him about her, but whatever. It's not my place to tell Hisao Nakai that Emi Ibarazaki wants his cock.

[Cropsy]

Kinda disturbing, kinda sad, and kinda funny in places too. Definitely an interesting rendition of Miki, and probably the darkest one I've seen so far.

[scott1and]

MIKI NAAAAAAOOOOOOOOO

[Bagheera]

Nice. Now I have an image of Miki and Emi reconciling later on down the road, with apologies from Emi and Miki maybe getting over it. Maybe a pipe dream, but still.

Also, someone oughtta hook her up with Misha. They have a lot in common in this path . . .

[Zoram]

And I thought a past worse than Hanako and/or your rendition of Saki couldn't be done I tend to think of the loss of Miki's hand as relatively recent; here, it's not and she covers her stump because it basically represents all that went wrong in her life (which is basically her entire life before coming to Yamaku).

I'm not fully convinced about Emi here. We know of her personality and problems, and also her approach to sex, but it seems excessive here given the way she treated Miki, not even acknowledging her relationship with her; it sounds like she regrets that lesbian phase of herself (although, it's something that can happen in reality). However, Miki laments her not opening up, yet I doubt Miki did share much of her past with Emi...

In this fanfic's light, Miki's scenes in Hanako's path look like she's happy that at least Hisao doesn't hook up with Emi.

[Tezzeret]

God damn dude, this was pretty intense. Fucking loved it.

[Robnonymous]

God damn dude, this was pretty intense. Fucking loved it.

^ This.

[Specter Von Baren]

A bit too.... flippant? For my tastes. It kind of makes me think of the phrase "Life sucks, deal with it."

[YOTC]

A bit too.... flippant? For my tastes. It kind of makes me think of the phrase "Life sucks, deal with it."

I have been quoted many a times in my life as saying "Life sucks and then you die." Which is similar but puts that finite point on the end of it.