Katawa Shoujo Forums

Hi everyone! It's been some time. Learning the blues is on hold for the moment but I needed to write this and get some stuff off my chest. Take that as you will.

This story is entitled Masks and actors and is set after Hisao and the others have graduated.

Prologue: A fresh mask (This post)

Act 1: Smoke and Mirrors
Scene 1: Smoke
Scene 2: Lights
Scene 3: Action
Scene 4: Mirror

Act 2: Crack in the mask
Scene 1: Performance
Scene 2: The mask slips
Scene 3: The mask cracks
Scene 4: Shattering

Act 3: Picking up the pieces
Scene 1: Superglue
Scene 2: Duct tape
Scene 3: Replication
Scene 4: Faker

Act 4: Finding yourself
Scene 1: Reconciliation
Scene 2: Setting the stage
Scene 3: Hard truths
Scene 4: Curtain call.

Prologue: A fresh mask

The apartment was dark when I arrived and as I turned the light switch on, the lights flickering as it illuminated the sparse room. It was almost barren of personality; a blank canvas and it suited me down to my bones.

Dropping my heavy bag with a groan and a sigh of relief, I shut the door behind me, closing the world off behind me.

I hadn’t thought about it much on the flight over, burying myself in books instead, drowning myself in a fantasy world but being here, now, the situation really began to sink into me.

Part of me felt relief.

Another part of me was screaming in regret.

I ruthlessly squashed that part down, trapping in a deep, distant box.

Here no one knew me, knew who I was, knew anything about me. Freedom.

I should feel happy.

Instead I just feel tired, worn out, spread far too thin, like too little butter over a far too large piece of toast.

Sighing and shaking my head, regaining my lost focus, I wandered further into the mostly bare apartment. There was a fresh made bed for me in the bedroom and I smiled in relief at not having to make my own bed on top of the long flight.

Jet lag would keep me up for a few hours longer at any rate.

Walking back into the main area of the apartment I made my way over to my bag.

It’s surprising and more than a little depressing how much you can fit into a suitcase, most of my possessions were in there, although it had helped that the apartment was furnished with the necessities.

My cooking utensils, books and the other items would be arriving sometime tomorrow, following on the flight behind me.

But there was one item that I was particularly hankering after at this moment in time. Reaching into a side pocket I pulled out a battered and slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes from my hand luggage.

Seven long strides led me to the sliding doors that opened up onto a balcony. I was on the first floor and I had a wonderful view of the late evening sky across the town just below Yamaku. I looked further up the hill, regarding my new place of employment in a few days time.

Shaking my head again, I ran my fingers through sweat slicked hair from a cramped several hour flight. The gentle wind soothed my scalp as I watched the visible stars twinkle in the evening sky above me. It was relaxing, a small little town with gently shining stars above.

I broke the moment with the distinctive click of a lighter. The end of the cigarette lit up cherry red and I dragged on it, feeling the sweet seductive and toxic fumes filling my lungs.

A long slow suicide, a sweet one, but none the less a long road that would only lead to my own end.

One that I deserve.

I took another drag, savouring the poison smokes effect.

“Hey mister! Those things will kill you someday!” Startled I jerked my hand and a flake of hot ash drifted onto my fingers and I hissed, shaking my hand to dislodge the hot ember.

I looked down from the balcony and there was a young female. In the dim light I couldn’t exactly tell how old she was but she looked to be in her twenties, dark red hair, with a slim build.

For a moment I simply stared at her and then sighed before taking another drag and carelessly blowing out a cloud of noxious fumes that drifted around my head before vanishing into the evening sky. I heard a small sound of irritation from the girl below and I felt my own irritation rise in response.

I snorted to myself and called out, “is it any of your business how I decide to off myself?” I meant in mostly tongue in cheek, my default mode of speaking always tended to lean towards sarcasm and I was jet lagged and slightly cranky already…

The girl said nothing, simply stared at me for a long moment before sighing and walking off down the street.

I sighed and finished my cigarette, before stubbing it out and binning the butt.

Time to do some organising.

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About an hour later I had most of my clothes unpacked, along with my personal hygiene stuff. I could feel sleep was still a long way off and I grumbled under my breath before deciding that now was as good as anytime to begin doing things.

I walked back into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. A rather dishevelled me looked back, bags under eyes, hair all over the place and an unhappy turn on his lips.

Time to get to work.

I shaved first, taking my beard completely off. For several minutes the simple task of shaving keeps me occupied, the blade running over skin and hair, leaving smoothness in its wake. The slightly pink foam that covered my skin begins to vanish as I shave, leaving the smell of fresh picked strawberries hovering in the air.

Leaning down into the sink I wash the excess foam off after I finish shaving and dry my face with a towel.

The smooth face that looked back in the mirror looked younger than it was supposed to be. I had a beard for so long it feels so very weird to be going without one.

A slip of paler skin is visible on the underside of my jaw. About seven centimetres long, a long thin scar runs along down towards my neck. I stare at the reflection for a moment.

Screaming and crying, as the sound of twisted metal echoes in the air –

I stagger over to the toilet and vomit, the remains of my in flight meal coming back up. The smell of bile intermingles with the strawberries, making me think I’m standing in a field of rotting berries.

My hands are trembling, shaking and I feel clammy a cold sweat on the back of my neck. I flush the toilet and run back out to the balcony, nearly dropping my cigarette as I light it. The familiar routine soothes me and I slowly stop trembling in the cool night air.

I still feel nauseous and the moment I close my eyes I can see – I snap my eyes open and swear under my breath. Looks like sleep will need to be chemically induced when my jet lag evens out a little more.

I slowly make my way back into the bathroom and douse the room with some deodorant to cover the noxious smell. Still got a couple of things that need to be done.

--------

An hour later the face looking at me is vastly different from the one that entered the apartment earlier in the evening. Black hair instead of brunette graces the top of my head, clean-shaven and glasses free eyes look back.

I think my own parents would have a hard time recognising me.

The face looking back is certainly unfamiliar and a little jarring for me to know that this will be me for the foreseeable future. The contacts apart from having corrected my vision have also darkened my light blue eyes into something closer to sea blue. It’s an odd feeling, knowing that a few simple changes have made such a difference.

A fresh face, a fresh start.

Another mask to add to the collection, the little vipers nest that I’ve amassed over my life.

I can no longer look at myself in the mirror and I turn the lights out and after swallowing some sleeping pills, fall into a dreamless sleep.

End prologue.

Well, as much as I was hoping to see more of Learning the Blues, I'm also interested in seeing where this new journey will take us. Good to see ya back!

Sucks about Monty. I got his autograph last year at Comic Con, thankfully. Lost my pictures with him, but the memories are there.

Act 1 Smoke and Mirrors

Scene 1: Smoke

Heavy knocking sounds stir me from the darkness of sleep. Yawning widely and rubbing sleep from my eyes, it takes me a few moments to realise where I was.

Right, new apartment in Japan, new job…

So why was someone hammering on my door?

“Alright, alright!” is the cross response I give, as I stumble, still half asleep out of my room across the main living area and to the front door.

I open the door and a young guy, in a blue jump suit and a baseball cap eyes me. “Delivery” he says flatly, shoving a clip board in my hands. I look over the board, taking a few minutes to translate the crisp paper.

It’s the rest of my stuff. I skim over the sheets, making sure everything is there and then quickly sign the papers with a small flourish. The young guy takes the papers, mutters a brief “Thank you,” and then vanishes down the stairs.

A minute later he clumps back up the stairs with the first box. He puts it down in front of me then heads down for the next one. I begin to drag the first one into my apartment when I hear footsteps, which definitely do not sound like the delivery mans.

A moment later, I see a young woman, dark red hair, dark green eyes, dressed in a paint-splattered set of jeans and a white t-shirt. Her eyes widen at the sight of me. “It’s you!” she exclaims, “The grumpy smoker!”

I frown and glance at her as the deliveryman comes up with another box. “And what makes you say that?” I ask warily, as I open the box and reveal my PC.

“Because your in the same apartment, so unless you suddenly mutated overnight…” she grins at me and I look away.

My new neighbour and she seems to be rather perky. I say nothing in response and open the next box, quickly checking that all my plates and bowls are intact.

Only to suddenly be startled by a face, up close to me, so close I can see her freckles. “Quiet one aren’t you?” she states, looking down at the box I’m crouched over.

“Hello,” I say quietly, backing away slightly, dragging the box further into my apartment.

She eyes me, and then clicks her fingers. “You’re not from round here are you?”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” I mutter dryly.

“Your accent!” she says with a wide grin of triumph. She then switches over to English fluidly, asking, “American or English?”

“English,” I bite out, as another box gets delivered.

My neighbour gets the new box and brings it into the apartment. I stiffen up as she steps into my apartment, my spine going rigid. “Thank you,” is the only acknowledgement I give her as I walk further into the apartment with my computer and place the box into my room.

I go back into the main area and the young red head is putting my pots, pans and plates in the cupboards in the small kitchen area.

I hadn’t expected that. I watch her for a moment, as she stretches on tiptoes, putting items on high shelves. She’s shorter than me by a good three or four inches, and I’m not exactly blessed by height myself.

“You didn’t have to help,” I state, slightly off kilter by how helpful she’s being.

“It’s no problem,” she chirps, as she places more of my stuff away. “So, are you working nearby?”

“At the school,” I reply half mumbled as I delve into the final box delivered to double check on the state of the items in the box.

A squeal of delight rings my ears. “Hello fellow teacher!” she gushes, giving me a wide grin at the news.

“You’re teaching at Yamaku too?” I ask, slightly disbelieving. I mean what were the odds of being neighbours with one of my future workmates?

“Art!” she says with another grin, gesturing at her splattered jeans. “Nakai Cho, pleased to meet you!”

For a moment I go to introduce myself in the western style, then remember where I am, “Connors Christian, at your service,” I say with a small flourish, and she eyes me with an odd vacant expression at my little dip I gave her.

“Guess you’ve brushed up on the customs,” she gives me a shrewd look as she speaks, weighing me with those murky green eyes.

I give a small shrug, looking back into the box. “I’ve been planning this for some time, so I made sure to brush up, although my accent and pronunciation are probably horrible.”

“Doesn’t your family miss you?”

The innocuous question makes my guts freeze up. I pick my next words carefully, keeping my tone light and cheerful, “Might be a distance away from them but my family think it’s a great opportunity.”

I begin arranging books on the bookcase in the main room as I talk, and I can see Cho, watching me with a half lidded, sleepy look. “Just your mum and dad?” she asks, going over to the final box.

“A little brother as well,” is my response as I alphabetize my books.

“I don’t have any siblings,” I almost don’t hear her over the sound of her opening the box, but she sounds wistful. I then hear a small laugh and I look over to see her holding one of my figurines. “Figured you’d have some of these.”

I can feel my cheeks heating up as she chuckles, before she plonks the box near me, then sits on the sofa in the living area. “Guessing your filling the English post then?” she remarks offhand, lolling boneless on the sofa.

“Why whatever gave you that idea?” I remark with a slightly sarcastic bite to the words. I hear Cho huff under her breathe at the sarcasm.

“Alright, silly question,” she grumbles.

I smirk, “was a bit of a silly question wasn’t it?” I ask rhetorically, before putting the last of the books on the shelf. I still have the box that Cho had rummaged in to unpack but that can wait until later.

A rumble that sounds more like a dog growling comes from my stomach. There is silence for a moment and then I sigh as Cho giggles. Unfortunately there’s nothing in my fridge at the moment. “I guess I need to go shopping,” I say aloud. “Where’s the best place in town to get some groceries?”

“There’s a small grocer just down the road, if you want a bigger supermarket then you’ll need to head to the next big town.” Cho pauses for a moment, an elegant finger on her chin, and she seems to have an epiphany. “Back in a moment!” She rises from the sofa, going from relaxed to running out of the room in a moment.

The cadence of her footsteps on the stairs forms an odd rhythm, it sounds like she’s missing a step out at times. I hear a door above me shut and I assume she’s in her apartment.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I ignore it for the moment. I muse for a moment. A fellow teacher, at the same school none the less – it leaves me wondering if my luck is good or bad.

My thoughts are cut off by the noise of far more careful steps on the stairs and a few moments later, Cho appears in my doorway, bearing a tray with two bowls with faint wisps of steam drifting from the top.

My nose twitches at the smell of aromatic spices and I hear my stomach grumble in anticipation. I duck my head in embarrassment and Cho chuckles, before handing me one of the bowls. I take it and we migrate over to the little kitchenette area, grabbing a pair of chopsticks each before digging in.

It was delicious.

Just a simple tofu curry and rice but to my parched and empty stomach, it was the food of the gods. I tucked in rapidly, savouring the taste and to be honest the company. I hadn’t eaten with company for some time and although I was a little uncomfortable – mainly because she’d almost literally barged in my door – Cho had been helpful, not something many of my neighbours would have done back at home in the U.K.

A few minutes later, the occasional ‘click’ from my clumsy chopstick skills having been the only sound in the room, I sigh gratefully. “Thank you,” and Cho’s face lights up in a sunny smile at the simple statement and I stifle a chuckle at her as she has several grains of rice stuck to her face. She frowns at my chuckle and pats her pace with one hand, realising that she has rice on her face, cleaning herself up with a piece of tissue from her pocket.

I give her a small smile and walk out to the balcony, closing the sliding doors behind me and in the same motion, light a cigarette. There are a few moments of quiet, as I watch the town below, with a few figures wandering by on the streets nearby in the mid morning sun. It’s a quiet, sleepy visage and I like it.

Maybe I can find my own peace of mind while I’m here.

Wisps of grey smoke drifted in a lazy crowd in front of me as the door behind me opened. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Cho’s nose wrinkle in distaste. “It’s my bad habit,” is the defensive response at her look.

“It’s my mums bad habit as well,”

That explains her distaste for it I guess. “I'm an adult Nakai, I know the risks.” She just frowns at me and gives me another one of those distant, far off looks.

There is slightly uncomfortable silence as I finish my cigarette and stub the butt out. Nothing is said for a few long moments until Cho stirs from wherever her mind had wandered off to. “You’re not good with people are you?”

I give her a wry glance and simply nod. “Thank you for everything you've done today but I need to do some things.”

Cho simply nods in acceptance musing for a couple more moments, “Do you have everything set up?”

“Not everything, still need to organise my Internet, only link back home.”

Cho makes a small humming noise, “You can use mine for the moment, passwords ‘artist’ and the network names Nakai.” I'm taken aback by this gesture and make a small gesture of thanks, “just let me know when you've got your own set up.”

I finish my cigarette in silence; Cho staring at the sun lit sky. It is a comfortable silence and as I finish my smoke, Cho bids me goodbye and leaves my apartment. It’s nice having some space back, even with all the help she’s given me.

Still, time to get the necessities I need for my apartment. I grab a fabric bag and head to town.

**

Shopping done, I arrive back at my apartment and unpack. A few bits for the bathroom but the main bulk of my purchases are herbs, spices and other condiments for my kitchen, stuff I couldn't transport over.

Unpacking doesn't take long and once that’s done, I double-check my phone. It had gone off earlier in the day and at present only one person has my number.

Loki: When you get a moment, I sent you a file, all the info you’ll need. Check it out and as much as you’re a customer I hope you don’t need my services again!

I really hope I don’t need his services again. It wiped out most of my savings apart from some I’d squirrelled away. I had enough to survive the first month but after that… well I had my job lined up thankfully otherwise I’d be in a pretty pickle.

Still better check that file now, rather than later. I grab a can of drink from the fridge and amble out to the balcony again, taking my tablet computer with me. I set myself up, accessing the wireless that Cho mentioned to me.

I log into my email account and sure enough, an email from Lokis on-line handle, thetrickstergod, is sitting there in my inbox. There’s only the subject line, ‘Details’ and a text document attached.

As the document downloads, I light a cigarette. I know it’ll kill me, but in the end it’s all that I deserve. The download only takes a few moments and I open up the file.

Loki here! Don’t worry about the basics, the best background have some foundation of truth. Only main difference for the basic details you have to remember is a different date of birth.

D.O.B: 3/11/2010

Place of birth: Nottingham

Academic background: BA in English literature, 2.2 with honours.

Work history: Worked in a lawyers office as a recorder and note taker as a part time job, in the offices of Sawyer and Sawyer, went on to university of Birmingham and completed degree, then after a year of work in a publishers office took a P.G.C.E and completed a year in a private grammar school (St Helens) then took a sabbatical and completed a Japanese language course.

References: Michelle Ruebens, headmistress of St Helens and Alison Hardy, university lecturer.

These are all set up and if anyone back traces, they’ll lead to me and I’ll answer. Stick to the details and you’ll be fine!

There’s more information afterwards, bank details and a new email account, a new phone number along with ways on to delete my previous on-line presence and to then disguise my new one.

I can feel the details forming, merging, and coalescing into a new mask, blank, fresh and ready to be filled in. Loki has given me the bare bones, a slate with only a little detail to be filled in.

How should I fill it in? What face should I present to the world? In the end, it doesn't really matter, it's all smoke and mirrors, lies upon lies and deception heaped on top of more deception.

The mask takes shape and I put it on, moulding it, shaping it to my desire, the face that I’ll present to the world.

Deception.

Lies.

Deceit.

Cowardice.

All the ugly aspects are hidden behind the mask, a smokescreen to divert the ugly truth.

That’s all it is in the end…

Smoke and mirrors.

End scene.

Hmm... Not at all what I was expecting after the first chapter.
Mildly confusing as well.
We don't know about the year this is set in yet - I first thought Ms Nakai might be Hisao's daughter, but according to his birthdate your protagonist has to be older than Hisao and his CV just doesn't contain 30 years of work experience...

Also the story switches to past tense a few times. You might want to fix that.

Cheers for that Mirage.

Timeline: Set in the year 2034.

Ms Nakai is 22 and the protagonist is 24.

I really fucked up on the timeline, was half asleep when I did that part!

And yes she is Hisao and Rins daughter! (she was born 2012, five years after Yamaku)

And this fic has some... dark undertones. There may be points when it gets a little uncomfortable for people.

As for the whole 'mask' thing it's the MC's psychology, I'm not going to spoil but it's his way of dealing with things pretty much.

I'm okay with the story, but you tend to not have apostrophes and commas in the right places, which makes me have to work quite hard sometimes to figure things out...

Smoke and Mirrors
Act 1: Scene 2: Lights

I try to sleep that night. I try, I really, really try but...

It's hard to explain.

Have you ever felt guilty?

I mean like real gut wrenching, nibble on your inside guilt? Not guilty over telling a small fib or something minor, I mean real, soul crushing guilt. The kind that hangs heavy. This felt like something alive. I could feel it chewing through my insides, eating into my gullet and up my throat, and now it was in my mouth, scraping out the backs of my teeth. If I opened my mouth it would escape.

I lost the battle.

A thin, reedy scream keened from my throat.

WHY?!

A million miles away and I'm still fucking running!

"You can't run," my treacherous brain whispers into my ear.

Run, run little rabbit from the spectre of the fear in the night.

My sheets are drenched with sweat, not from the heat, I mean it's hot but not that hot. I snort and peel my sticky vest top off and slip on a pair of sandals and pad out onto my little balcony. I'd left my pack of cigarettes out here earlier and I light one. Smoke drifts away from me in the dark in front of me and I repress a sigh.

Always leaning on my fucking crutches.

I hate being this weak but I couldn't hack it back home. I couldn't stay back there.

Still I wasn't going to get much, if any sleep, might as well do something productive. I plod over to the briefcase on the main table and snap it open, the folders inside being my goal. I pull out the first folder, labelled Class 1-1 and begin to memorise names and faces and the notes with each face.

It didn't take me long, I'd always been good with names and faces, a good memory is essential when you're a habitual liar. If you have a good memory, there's less chance of slipping up.

Three rules for being a good liar.

1) Have a good memory
2) Keep it simple
3) Make eye contact

I bite back another sigh, put the file down and go have another cigarette, and pour myself a good measure of whiskey. It numbs the guilt thrashing in my stomach, pushes it back down from where it's clawing at my throat. I finish the cigarette quickly and then go back to the lounge and the table. I boot my laptop up, from where I had left it, by the briefcase.

I start on the lesson plans for the lessons that start next week and after an hour working on them, I look up briefly in the mirror meeting my reflections gaze. Bags, bloodshot eyes - I look a mess.

I wonder how many of my co-workers will look at me and think something is wrong?

Will they see the snake?

After all, a monster can't thrive in the light, not unless they skulk under a shadow of deceit.

I look towards the bathroom where my medicine bag lay. I shake my head. No, I don't need the tablets. The whiskey has mellowed me a little and I might be able to get a little sleep.

Maybe.

Guilt hangs awfully heavy after all.

End scene two

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I just needed to write something.