Kenji's Destiny - A Short One-Shot
Posted: Sun Mar 13, 2016 2:11 am
Hey, I'm Dannflor. If you don't care about the context behind why I wrote this (and really why should you), just skip to the story down below. 
This is the first real bit of fanfiction I can truly call finished, and the first I've ever posted here. I used to write little scraps here and there based on prompts or other bits of inspiration I'd find on Katawa Shoujo communities. These scraps never really developed beyond scraps, but I enjoyed writing them. Recently, I've come back to Katawa Shoujo, and writing in general. The two subjects go together pretty well in the form of fanfiction. I decided I wanted to write some, getting inspiration from several well known authors around here. But, for my first project I wanted to go as small as possible while still creating what I could call a story. So I took one of my old "scraps" that I liked, expanded it, polished it up, and here I am. I just wanted to do something I could finish. I want to write more, hopefully slowly expanding the scope of my work.
Anyway, the reason I'm posting it here is because I want feedback on my writing! So by all means, please give feedback. Criticism is always welcome and appreciated.
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Kenji's Destiny
The dorm common room was dark, quiet, and eerily empty save for a single solitary figure. A bespectacled boy crouched in front of the fireplace, confronting a slowly dying fire. The flames crackled and popped, casting shadows that danced across Kenji’s face in a rhythmic pattern. On any other occasion, Kenji would not have been caught dead in the common room. However, a sneaking suspicion that someone had bugged his own room caused Kenji to change his surroundings. Glowing embers stared at Kenji, illuminating his glasses in a haunting way. The crazed looking boy wrapped his blanket tighter around him, glancing towards the stairwell as if to make sure no one was watching.
Taking a small device out of his pocket, Kenji fingered a few buttons before setting it on the coffee table at his side. His face grave, Kenji began to speak, staring intently into the fire as if it were something of great significance.
“Area is secure. Entry number two hundred and thirty two: Kenji’s Last Stand.” Kenji paused, frowned, and fiddled with the recording device he had placed next to him. After a moment, he started talking again.
“Entry number two hundred and thirty two: Kenji’s Destiny.” This time, Kenji seemed satisfied, and left the recorder alone. After a few moments, Kenji began uttering his story in a markedly low voice, the only sound to accompany his speech being the sudden snaps coming from the flames.
“Agent H. had reported the planned terrorist attack hours before, but it had taken me time to find the location of the bomb. Too much time.” Kenji shuddered. “While I did find it, it was nearly too late when I found it. I remember...” Kenji leaned closer to the fire, as if the coals were his audience and he were relating his story to them and not the recorder beside him.
“A bead of sweat slowly rolled down my forehead, much like a melting ice cream cone, or a gum drop rolling down a melting ice cream cone. The fate of Yamaku, nay, the world was resting upon my shoulders. This was a burden I did not take lightly. I wiped the growing fog from my spectacles, needing the clearest vision I could possibly get. There, in front of me, was imminent death. As my vision cleared, I could make out neon red numbers, counting down the seconds. Three minutes before Yamaku was nothing but a steaming pile of ash? No biggie. I once ate an entire cake in three minutes. Disarming a bomb? Piece of cake.”
“Perhaps I should explain why the fate of the world rests with the fate of Yamaku. The feminists have fought for control of Yamaku for quite some time, yet I have held it against all odds. Today, they sought to destroy it, and with it any chance I had of warning the world of the feminist invasion. If Yamaku were to be destroyed, and with it I, Kenji, the last defender of Earth, the world would be lost. So you see, I was not just saving Yamaku, I was saving myself— er, the world.” Kenji paused, knitting his brow together in a manner that looked more like constipation than concentration. “I almost succumbed to the lure of death right then and there. I had a vision of becoming a martyr, an image to rally the people of Japan and lead the victory charge against the feminists.”
“However,” and now Kenji took off his glasses, for a dramatic effect that only he would ever experience. “Something inside me snapped just then, some primal desire, some insatiable urge, some sixth sense that told me I needed to survive. I realized that my destiny was not to become a martyr, but to fight in the final battle against the forces of feminism. Also, I didn’t wanna die. With only seconds left to live, I took it upon myself to defuse the bomb. Remembering the various movies I'd watched on this same subject, I got to work. I'd taken it upon myself to educate myself about such devices during my self run "feminist apocalypse bootcamp". I could only hope that the long hours spent studying would pay off. Turning the device in front of me on its side, I spied a compartment attached to the back which would need a screwdriver to open. I reached into my bag and pulled out a very manly looking red screwdriver.” With this Kenji began to mime the actions he spoke of, stabbing the air in front of him with an imaginary screwdriver. “It was a matter of seconds before the innards of this dastardly device was visible. I hastily took out the two batteries that seemed to be running the device, and without even a sound, the device shut off.”
“Once again, I had outsmarted the feminists; just another day in the life of Kenji, Yamaku's only super soldier. Still, I needed to be careful. I had very nearly accepted death that day, and if I were to die the world would be doomed.” The fire had now died down to barely glowing coals. “I had survived yet another feminist mission that had the intent to kill me. What happened next was unfortunate, I jumped up in celebration, and hit my head on a beam running across the ceiling. No doubt the beam was put there by the feminist forces as a trap. I lost consciousness after that incident.”
“Later, the feminist forces must have found me and relocated me to my room. For I woke up the next morning in my bed, with no memory of having been moved. They didn't have the brains to just off me then and there when I was defenseless. Although, I suppose the murder of Yamaku's most popular student would have caused suspicion. The feminists had also taken my alarm clock apart for some reason.”
Kenji picked up the recorder and took out a flashlight, standing up. He made his way back to his dorm, leaving only the final embers of the fire to laugh at him.
This is the first real bit of fanfiction I can truly call finished, and the first I've ever posted here. I used to write little scraps here and there based on prompts or other bits of inspiration I'd find on Katawa Shoujo communities. These scraps never really developed beyond scraps, but I enjoyed writing them. Recently, I've come back to Katawa Shoujo, and writing in general. The two subjects go together pretty well in the form of fanfiction. I decided I wanted to write some, getting inspiration from several well known authors around here. But, for my first project I wanted to go as small as possible while still creating what I could call a story. So I took one of my old "scraps" that I liked, expanded it, polished it up, and here I am. I just wanted to do something I could finish. I want to write more, hopefully slowly expanding the scope of my work.
Anyway, the reason I'm posting it here is because I want feedback on my writing! So by all means, please give feedback. Criticism is always welcome and appreciated.
------------------------------
Kenji's Destiny
The dorm common room was dark, quiet, and eerily empty save for a single solitary figure. A bespectacled boy crouched in front of the fireplace, confronting a slowly dying fire. The flames crackled and popped, casting shadows that danced across Kenji’s face in a rhythmic pattern. On any other occasion, Kenji would not have been caught dead in the common room. However, a sneaking suspicion that someone had bugged his own room caused Kenji to change his surroundings. Glowing embers stared at Kenji, illuminating his glasses in a haunting way. The crazed looking boy wrapped his blanket tighter around him, glancing towards the stairwell as if to make sure no one was watching.
Taking a small device out of his pocket, Kenji fingered a few buttons before setting it on the coffee table at his side. His face grave, Kenji began to speak, staring intently into the fire as if it were something of great significance.
“Area is secure. Entry number two hundred and thirty two: Kenji’s Last Stand.” Kenji paused, frowned, and fiddled with the recording device he had placed next to him. After a moment, he started talking again.
“Entry number two hundred and thirty two: Kenji’s Destiny.” This time, Kenji seemed satisfied, and left the recorder alone. After a few moments, Kenji began uttering his story in a markedly low voice, the only sound to accompany his speech being the sudden snaps coming from the flames.
“Agent H. had reported the planned terrorist attack hours before, but it had taken me time to find the location of the bomb. Too much time.” Kenji shuddered. “While I did find it, it was nearly too late when I found it. I remember...” Kenji leaned closer to the fire, as if the coals were his audience and he were relating his story to them and not the recorder beside him.
“A bead of sweat slowly rolled down my forehead, much like a melting ice cream cone, or a gum drop rolling down a melting ice cream cone. The fate of Yamaku, nay, the world was resting upon my shoulders. This was a burden I did not take lightly. I wiped the growing fog from my spectacles, needing the clearest vision I could possibly get. There, in front of me, was imminent death. As my vision cleared, I could make out neon red numbers, counting down the seconds. Three minutes before Yamaku was nothing but a steaming pile of ash? No biggie. I once ate an entire cake in three minutes. Disarming a bomb? Piece of cake.”
“Perhaps I should explain why the fate of the world rests with the fate of Yamaku. The feminists have fought for control of Yamaku for quite some time, yet I have held it against all odds. Today, they sought to destroy it, and with it any chance I had of warning the world of the feminist invasion. If Yamaku were to be destroyed, and with it I, Kenji, the last defender of Earth, the world would be lost. So you see, I was not just saving Yamaku, I was saving myself— er, the world.” Kenji paused, knitting his brow together in a manner that looked more like constipation than concentration. “I almost succumbed to the lure of death right then and there. I had a vision of becoming a martyr, an image to rally the people of Japan and lead the victory charge against the feminists.”
“However,” and now Kenji took off his glasses, for a dramatic effect that only he would ever experience. “Something inside me snapped just then, some primal desire, some insatiable urge, some sixth sense that told me I needed to survive. I realized that my destiny was not to become a martyr, but to fight in the final battle against the forces of feminism. Also, I didn’t wanna die. With only seconds left to live, I took it upon myself to defuse the bomb. Remembering the various movies I'd watched on this same subject, I got to work. I'd taken it upon myself to educate myself about such devices during my self run "feminist apocalypse bootcamp". I could only hope that the long hours spent studying would pay off. Turning the device in front of me on its side, I spied a compartment attached to the back which would need a screwdriver to open. I reached into my bag and pulled out a very manly looking red screwdriver.” With this Kenji began to mime the actions he spoke of, stabbing the air in front of him with an imaginary screwdriver. “It was a matter of seconds before the innards of this dastardly device was visible. I hastily took out the two batteries that seemed to be running the device, and without even a sound, the device shut off.”
“Once again, I had outsmarted the feminists; just another day in the life of Kenji, Yamaku's only super soldier. Still, I needed to be careful. I had very nearly accepted death that day, and if I were to die the world would be doomed.” The fire had now died down to barely glowing coals. “I had survived yet another feminist mission that had the intent to kill me. What happened next was unfortunate, I jumped up in celebration, and hit my head on a beam running across the ceiling. No doubt the beam was put there by the feminist forces as a trap. I lost consciousness after that incident.”
“Later, the feminist forces must have found me and relocated me to my room. For I woke up the next morning in my bed, with no memory of having been moved. They didn't have the brains to just off me then and there when I was defenseless. Although, I suppose the murder of Yamaku's most popular student would have caused suspicion. The feminists had also taken my alarm clock apart for some reason.”
Kenji picked up the recorder and took out a flashlight, standing up. He made his way back to his dorm, leaving only the final embers of the fire to laugh at him.