Re: Miki and Taro: Rat Race
Posted: Sun Jan 20, 2013 10:44 am
by ProfAllister
Hate to be criticising on the details so much again, but I guess being detail-oriented is kinda my shtick...
Molly is missing both her legs above the knee. It seems a little off-putting to have her roll out of bed and get dressed with nary a mention of the prosthetics.
Characterization still seems solid. Interested to see where you plan on taking this.
Re: Miki and Taro: Rat Race
Posted: Wed Mar 20, 2013 8:53 pm
by Helbereth
I stumbled on this when I went looking for Taro's last name because of... reasons.
In any case, I like the duplicity Miki shows in this, and how it's actually Taro doing all the inspiring speeches; it's a nice bit of role reversal. My one issue is that I find it somewhat difficult differentiating Miki's internal monologue from that of Hideaki in your Tales of Manliness. It's probably because you're using similar reference ammunition for their observations, though, and not any actual correlation in their personalities.
Turtle power!
Re: Miki and Taro: Rat Race
Posted: Wed Mar 20, 2013 9:38 pm
by DanjaDoom
Helbereth wrote:I stumbled on this when I went looking for Taro's last name because of... reasons.
In any case, I like the duplicity Miki shows in this, and how it's actually Taro doing all the inspiring speeches; it's a nice bit of role reversal. My one issue is that I find it somewhat difficult differentiating Miki's internal monologue from that of Hideaki in your Tales of Manliness. It's probably because you're using similar reference ammunition for their observations, though, and not any actual correlation in their personalities.
Turtle power!
"Observational smart-ass" is kind of my default setting when I write first-person. I'll admit, it's a bit hard for me to stray from that.
I do try (or at least am trying/will try) to make Miki's observational humor a little less refined than Hideakis, though.
Anyway, thanks for reading Helbereth, and... I need to start up on this story again, huh?
Re: Miki and Taro: Rat Race
Posted: Tue Apr 30, 2013 12:24 am
by DanjaDoom
Oh boy, look who just updated this old thing.
At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I've suffered a severe case of writer's block and procrastination brought on by school and finals. By that I mean Far Cry 3 and Pokemon Black 2.
Anyway, please leave a comment for this rather short chapter. (Side Note: Aaron is the main character from Real, in case anyone remembers that wonderful old story)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Miss Miura, if you’re going to fall asleep in my class, you could at least have the decency to not be so blatant about it...”
I lift up my head to a smatter of light chuckling, meeting the bane of many a classroom nap time, Mr. Mutou himself. His eyes have been baggier than usual lately. Maybe he’s just jealous that he isn't allowed to take a nap either?
“Napping? No, no, I was... refocusing my mind. There was just so much information coming at me that I--”
“Save it, Miura,” he says, putting his hand up. “I’m sure you've rehearsed plenty of excuses by now, but why don’t we just move on to the next part of the lesson?”
“Alright, but I was just--”
He raises his brow at me, hinting that his suggestion to stop talking wasn't really a suggestion.
“Yes, sir,” I mutter quietly. Mutou returns to the blackboard and continues jotting down his stream of equations, including a few with--ugh--numbers. What sick fuck decided that putting the alphabet in science was a good idea? The same that decided to end classroom nap time after kindergarten, apparently.
Molly, as usual, copies down every stray mark Mutou puts on the board. God forbid she miss even a single one. That squiggly line may appear on the next test. The fact that she’s so chipper and attentive while I’m conked out of my mind only makes me a bit angrier, for some reason.
I just don’t understand it. Running used to make me feel so... relaxed. At ease with myself. Now it’s starting to do the opposite, and I honestly don’t know how to deal with that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Taro’s already waiting for me down at the track.
“Miki, I've been thinking a lot about something, and I’d really like your feedback!”
“Shoot,” I tell him, successfully stifling a yawn. I was secretly hoping for a little less hyperactivity this early in the morning.
“Well, you know how there’s going to be an open track meet coming up next month? I think it’d be great if I sign up for it!”
I crack a dishonest smile. At the rate he’s been going (and it’s a very small rate), it’s doubtful he’d even finish the race.
Clearly he was expecting me to start jumping around with him in a circle, because he seems disappointed by my lack of a reaction.
“Well, I mean, you could join too! If you were running with me, it’d be great motivation,” Taro says, like a salesman pitching his brilliant new gizmo to a room of investors.
“If you think you can run it, then by all means, sign up,” I tell him finally.
Now in addition to being confused, he looks a bit disheartened. What the hell does this kid want me to say? “I think running with some of the best athletes in the school and embarrassing yourself is a terrific idea?”
“Miki, just tell me the truth. Do you really think I can do it out there?”
I sigh quietly, trying to mediate the pro wrestling match occurring between my honest side and my nice side. They don’t overlap often.
“As in, actually doing good in the race? No.”
Before he just falls flat onto the track like a depressed turtle, I explain myself.
“But that’s only because you just started! You’re starting to get ahead of yourself, here!”
“I thought getting ahead of myself was the point? How can I improve if I don’t have a goal to look forward to?”
“It’s called taking things one step at a time. I just don’t think a month is enough time for you to be ready to run it, at least not at the rate we’re going.”
Taro pumps his fist, a newly found eagerness welling up inside him.
“Then we’ll just have to increase our work rate! No more slacking! Do or die!”
Before I can calm him down, he power walks onto the track and begins his regimen without me. I feel bad for shooting down something he was so eager about, but he wanted my honesty, and I gave it to him.
Does that make me the bad guy here?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I think Taro is a vampire.”
Molly looks up at me from her bowl of Sugar Smacks, a blank expression on her face. She begins to open her mouth, as if to say something, but halfway through decides to just continue eating.
“OK,” she says through a mouthful of sugary, processed goodness. “Taro is a vampire. But, just out of curiosity, why?”
“Why what?”
“Why is he a vampire?”
“Oh! Well, I don’t know, he’s just been really perky lately, and I haven’t. So, I guess that... makes him a vampire. The energy sucking kind, not the blood sucking kind. Just to establish that.”
I’m experiencing first hand a true rarity of nature. Molly is at a loss for words, obviously due to my impeccable logic. I wish I had my camera.
“I’m going to finish eating my sugar smacks now, and hopefully you'll realize how stupid that sentence sounded before I finish.”
Consider that challenge accepted. I don’t take my eyes off of her for the entire duration of her cereal consumption. I even watch her slurp down the milk. Dedication is my middle name.
She looks at me expectantly, groaning once she sees the defiant leer on my face.
“Miki, have you ever stopped to think that maybe you’re just tired?”
“It crossed my mind, yeah. But I doubt it.”
“Why’s that?” she asks skeptically.
“It just doesn’t make any sense! Running’s never made me feel this way until recently! And now Taro is all of a sudden all smiley and happy out there? Come on, Mols, there’s no way that’s just a coincidence!”
“That sounds exactly like a coincidence, actually.”
I sigh, irritated by her unwillingness to hear me out. Yeah, maybe I’m exaggerating the whole “vampire” thing, but I really am worried about the source of my newfound exhaustion. Is old age catching up to me? Is it all those microwave brownies I had the other night? A combination of the two, perhaps?
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Molly scouring along her bookshelf, pushing aside dusty textbooks outdated by a few grades and yellowing children’s books she doesn’t have the heart to throw out.
“Aha!” she exclaims under her breath, pulling out a thick, laminated white book. Unlike the others in her vast collection, this one looks fairly new.
“I think this will help.”
I take a peek at the laminated cover, blowing off a thin layer of dust starting to develop.
“100 Inspirational Quotes for the Struggling Everyman?”
Molly blushes and tugs at a split end in her hair.
“Just found it in town one day, and thought it’d come in handy... what, you don’t want it? Because I’ll just take it back now!”
“No, no, it’s cool,” I assure her, not wanting to offend and ruin my nookie chances. “I’ll be sure to show it to Taro, you never know when he’ll need the extra pick me up.”
“Actually, I have something else to offer.”
My chocolate irises flare up at her suggestive words.
“Oh, but Molly, it’s so early in the day,” I tease. “Are you sure you want to exhaust yourself right now?”
“Ugh!” Molly cries in disgust, catching on to the meaning quicker that I thought she would. “Get your mind out of the gutter! I’m talking about advice!”
“Advice for what?” I ask.
“What do you think? For your exercise regimen!”
I try, and fail, to stifle a laugh.
“Molly, look, I think when it comes to sports, I know what I’m doing.”
The Indian girl huffs and turns her back to me like the bratty schoolgirl she really is deep down.
“That may be true, but when it comes to organization, you’re...”
“Lacking?”
“You suck at it. All I’m saying is, if you’re losing so much energy, why not lighten your load a bit?”
“You know Taro’s not going to want to do less! That kid’s more stubborn than you!”
“First of all, I prefer the term ‘determined.’ Second of all, I’m not talking about doing less, I’m talking about doing the same thing, but with a more even distribution.”
Apparently I’m taking too long to follow her train of thought. She grips me by the shoulders and gives me a firm shaking.
“For God’s sake, Miki, I’m telling you to get some more help!”
“Oh!” I say, the bulb in my cranium flickering to life. Instantly, I begin to run through a checklist of possible candidates who would be willing and able to help. Ibarazaki’s habit of running through the halls has finally caught up to her in the form of three consecutive weekend detentions. She’s off the list. I can’t trust Suzu or Molly with anything strenuous; Suzu because of her narcolepsy, and Molly because she sucks at it.
“Damn,” I wonder aloud. “Who would be enough of a sucker to help me out and get paid practically nothing?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Aaaaaarooon!”
There’s no sound from the other side of the door. So I knock again.
“Aaaarooooon!”
I hear shuffling from inside, so I at least know I haven’t been standing here for the past five minutes calling into an empty room like an idiot. I decide to knock just one more time.
“Aaaarooo-”
The exchange student, and Suzu’s boyfriend, finally responds, twisting the knob and peering out through the inch thick crack in his doorway.
“What is it, Miki?” he mutters to me. The black workout shirt he has on is a good indication that he’s not planning on doing anything today. It’s not like anyone wears a workout shirt to workout, after all.
“I need a favor. Can I come in?”
He lets me in, albeit with plenty of mumbling and groaning about how early it is. I decide that it’s best to keep my words soft and simple, so as to not overload his brain before I can get to the point.
“So? What’s this favor you need so badly that you couldn't until I was awake to tell me?” he asks bitingly. He’s still cordial enough to pull a seat out for me and offer me a crumb cake, though.
“Well, you know how the word around school is that I've been helping Taro to lose weight?”
“I literally wasn't aware of that until just now,” he responds, wiping away stray bits of cake out of his shirt.
“Well you should start paying attention more!” I chide. “Anyway, things haven’t been going as smoothly as I thought, and I was--”
I pause to swallow down the mushy remnants of my snack.
“--and I was wondering if you’d be willing to help.”
“What makes you think I’d be able to help?” he asks me, wiping away some crust from the edge of his eye socket. Eww.
“You're a pretty big guy.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” he groans. “It’s getting to be really goddamn annoying. Yeah, I know, I’m tall, I've got big shoulders, stop the fucking presses!”
I didn't know he felt so strongly about that...
“You’re in a country of short Asians, dude. You should just get used to it. Anyway, you’d say you’re a strong guy, right? Decent athletic background?”
I've seen the look he has on his face before. He’s attempting to discern just how much he should inflate his own ego without going overboard and sounding like a douchebag. I've done it plenty of times myself, usually when the school newspaper comes around to interview me after a race.
“Well, my uncle owns a gym back in the States...”
“Uh-huh...”
“..And, I don’t mean to brag--”
He does.
“--but I did run a 5k a few months before I moved up here.”
“Perfect! Consider yourself my new assistant trainer! Meet me by the weight room at eight tomorrow for your rundown.”
“Whoa, slow down. I haven’t even said yes, yet!”
“Well, if you don’t say yes, you’re kind of an asshole, so--”
“Says who?”
“Says conventional wisdom. You’re the only person I’ve asked so far, and the only person I’m going to ask. If you deny me, you’re just a big poop head.”
He rolls his eyes at me. “Don’t try to use that big vocabulary Molly taught you to get an edge on me! I’ve dealt with shit from you girls since I first got here! I’m not so easy to break!”
I smirk evilly at him in turn. “I’ll convince Suzu to ignore you for the next week. No kissing, no nookie, nothing.”
“Pfft, like I give a crap. Besides, Suzu and I haven’t done... ‘nookie’ yet. Do people still even call it that?”
“I do. And how do I know you’re not lying?”
Aaron goes quiet at my accusation, and even begins to sweat a little bit. I may have just stumbled on some sweet, juicy blackmail! My mission can now wholly be considered a success.
“Meet me near the weight room tomorrow morning, eight o’clock.”
Waiting for his approval is unnecessary; I know he’s not going to bail on me now, his love life depends on it.
“Bring me breakfast, and I’ll be there.”
“Do you have that in writing?” I rib.
To my surprise, he grabs a tissue and pen from his nightstand, messily scribbles down his signature, and tosses it back to me.
“Breakfast,” he repeats.
I roll my eyes and let him resume his non-activities.
The only thing to do now is wait and see how things pan out tomorrow with the addition of our newest member. Who knows, maybe I won’t need that book after all.
