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Roasted Cinnamon is a Hanako-focused alternative universe Katawa Shoujo fan fiction. While it does follow the timeline of events set out by the game to some extent, it will deviate significantly from established canon in some areas. This is not intended to be a simple retelling of the Hanako route from her perspective.

For me, this is an experiment. It is my first attempt at writing fan fiction, Katawa Shoujo or otherwise. It has been many years since I have written fiction of any sort, and even longer since I have written for pleasure. As many others before me, I was inspired by Katawa Shoujo to reevaluate my life, and this writing is an attempt to exercise my oft-neglected creative side. I've played around over the last few months with various ideas, but all of them involved projects even more ambitious than this. I was encouraged by a veteran forum member to start small. This story hardly qualifies, but it is the idea I felt most comfortable attempting to flesh out. We'll see how it goes. I hope to update regularly, but guarantee nothing.


Index

Chapter 1

9:00am, July 10, 2007
Arimuracho, Japan

A plume of ash stretches high into the clear summer sky. Reclining comfortably in the shade cast by the balcony above them, two men gaze lazily upon the calm waters of Kagoshima Bay. The younger man turns and stretches, his eyes tracing the column of debris that extends from the peak of Mt. Sakurajima.

“The mountain seems quiet today,” he muses.
His companion, a grouchy-looking portly old man, merely grunts in response.

“It’s nice to have a break after the last few days,” the younger man continues. “I was starting to get a b-“

“Don’t get your hopes up. When the mountain gets this active, it lasts days. In fact, last time I saw it this bad was in ’89. Need I remind you how that ended?”

Punctuating his interruption with a distasteful spit off the side of the porch, the elderly man’s scowl deepens. It is a rhetorical question. The young man may not have been old enough to remember the day Mt. Sakurajima’s temper tantrums burnt down the family business, but he knows exactly to what his father is referring. Reconstruction of the Cinnamon Lodge, a high-class bed and breakfast, was an arduous process completed just a few years ago.

“You say that every time there’s a bad spell.”

The younger man grins and rises from his seat. It sounds like the couple in room three have finally finished. They’ll have worked up an appetite; time to get brunch started. He steps towards the door but pauses before entering.

“Still, there is something in the air today. It feels… off.”

His eyes once again scan the mountain, searching for signs of an imminent catastrophe. Satisfied none exist, he turns and enters the inn.

_____________________

8:02am, June 4, 2007
Yamaku Academy, Japan

Standing outside class 3-3, I slowly turn the doorknob and peer inside. It’s early, so I’m unlikely to be disturbed. Fortunately, only Molly has arrived before me; she never bothers me. Still, I quietly slip inside and gently close the door. My lone companion gives me a quick glance of acknowledgement before returning to her book. Despite its brevity, I retreat from her gaze to my seat at the back of the room and begin to unpack my books. I relax a bit as I return to chapter two in The Life of Pi. It’s been a cool, quiet, uneventful morning – the best kind.

I hope it stays that way.

Chapter two turns into three, then four, as the classroom fills around me. My concentration is finally broken by the world’s loudest deaf-mute and her inseparable companion. Misha starts loudly apologizing before door is even open.

“Sorry for being late, Mutou-san!~ We were jus- oh!~”

Misha halts upon realizing our homeroom teacher is even tardier. Her comments make me check the time. It’s unusual for him to be so late.

Shizune and Misha hardly have time to sit down before my speculation is put to rest. Mutou enters the room with an unfamiliar boy in tow. This must be the transfer student he mentioned late last week. He's quite handsome; tall and slender with short-cropped brown hair that has nearly managed to arrange itself in a presentable fashion. There is nothing obviously disabled about him, although his grey sweater vest and downcast face create a gloomy aura around him. As I assess him, he sweeps his eyes slowly across the classroom. Our gazes meet for a second, and my hands involuntarily cover my face as I quickly look away.

Smooth going.

I manage to miss most of his introduction during my moments of self-absorbed shyness, but I do catch his name; Hisao Nakai. As soon as he’s done, the poor guy is sent off to the lion’s den. The only open seat is next to deaf-charge, and I can see that Shizune has already been sizing him up. Unsurprisingly, it takes no time at all for Misha to loudly assign him an embarrassing overly-familiar nickname. As half the class watches his attempts to communicate normally with the pair, Mutou begins handing out some papers. It looks like today will be another group-work session. Finished distributing the papers, Mutou coughs loudly and sends a pointed look in Misha’s direction. She quiets, and the class turns its attention to the work at hand.

The classroom is fragmented into groups of two or three students, but I sit alone, as usual. It’s not that other people wouldn’t allow my presence; I choose to work solo - attempting to accomplish schoolwork while dealing with the stress of social interaction is a futile exercise. I get more done when I can shut out other distractions. In some classes, my grades suffer little from my reclusion. Science, however, is not my strong suit. I move quickly through the assignment, skipping sections I don’t understand. Upon reaching the end, I look back and realize that I’ve passed on over half the questions. I’ll have to revisit this later after rereading the assigned chapter.

My gaze wanders around the room. My fellow students are still engrossed in their papers. I settle on watching my new classmate; currently he’s weathering the storm of yet another loudly-relayed explanation from Shizune. Eavesdropping on Misha’s translations would probably allow me to fill in a few of the blanks on my page, but I decide against the idea. Mutou usually allows me to turn in these group assignments a day or two late, anyway.

During a break in Misha’s barking, the new boy raises his head and stares out the window. He still seems gloomy; I doubt the student council’s boisterous welcoming has left a very positive impression. He turns to scan the room again, and before I realize it our eyes meet. He offers a slight smile that I barely notice as I quickly turn away and cover my face again. My cheeks start to burn.

He caught me staring.

A few seconds pass before I realize I’m rereading my assignment. Once again, I reach the end without adding to my answers. A self-conscious fire begins to rise inside me; the once cool room is now starting to feel a bit stifling.

Maybe he’s still looking at me.

A quick peek reveals he’s not. I fold and stow away my assignment. I have no reason to stay, and some cool, fresh air would do me good right now. I stand and move to leave the classroom, giving Mutou a quick, apologetic look as I open the door. Nobody else seems to notice me leave. A sigh of relief escapes me as the door shuts.

Only a few wispy clouds meander through the mostly-clear sky. Despite the warmth of a bright sun high above, the school grounds feel much cooler and calmer than our classroom. A light wind tickles the trees and produces a relaxing rustle as I wander towards the forest on the edge of school property.

Why do I always get so flustered?

Meeting new people is a part of life. After my time at the orphanages, you’d think I’d accustomed myself to new faces by now. Normally my tendency for reclusion wouldn’t bother me, but for some reason, today it does. Perhaps it’s because my new classmate looked so unhappy. I remember feeling the same way on my first day at Yamaku. Maybe he just needs a friend. It’s been a long time since I made a new friend.

That’s because I don’t deserve friends.

Besides, how can I expect to get to know new people when I can’t even look them in the eyes?

I force the subject out of my head as I try to relax and enjoy my stroll. Everyone else is in class right now, so even the main forest path is completely deserted. I allow myself to lose track of time while meandering aimlessly through the trees, guided only by the cool breeze at my back. Eventually I find myself back at the edge of school grounds. I check the time and realize that it’s already halfway through lunch. By the time I can make it back to school, Lily will probably already be back in her classroom. Since I’m not really hungry, I decide to simply head back to 3-3 and wait for afternoon classes to begin.

Fortunately, the classroom is deserted with the exception of Mutou. He’s content to let me read, and I find myself once again engrossed in my book. I manage to burn through another several chapters before I am interrupted by the entrance of deaf-charge. Misha and Shizune ignore me and make for their seats, as usual, but their companion seems interested by my presence. There’s nowhere to hide in an empty room, but I shrink back into my seat nonetheless.

Even if you want to be friends, you shouldn’t!

My new classmate is apparently unimpressed with what he sees, soon wordlessly moving to join the student council. The lack of conversation is fine with me; I’m unused to strangers taking even a cursory interest in me. Perhaps we can talk another time.

That’s probably not a good idea. Someone will just get hurt.

Although I’m aware that my social phobias aren’t completely rational, I am helpless to avoid them. Still, it’s a good sign that I’m even considering spreading my wings at all, right? I spend the rest of class berating myself between glances at him. Part of me hopes he’ll return the looks, but most of me fears that he might. I learn nothing during afternoon classes, and am relieved to hear the bell. Already packed, I’m the first to jump up and reach the door. Normally I would head to the library and curl up in a corner with a book, but not today.

A cool breeze blusters away some of my neatly arranged hair as I exit the main school building. It doesn’t really matter, my hair will be messed up soon enough anyway, and I welcome the departure from the stiflingly stagnant classroom. It’s only a few steps before I’m inside the secondary wing of the school. I head quickly past the nurse’s office – I’ve missed a few appointments recently and would rather not receive a scolding right now, even if he’s usually very gentle about it.

With a huge sigh of relief I survey the empty pool. The swim team only meets twice a week, Tuesday and Thursday. Since most of the people interested in swimming at Yamaku are members of the team, it’s rare for other people to be using the pool. There are a few others in the school who swim regularly, such as the narcoleptic girl in my homeroom, but they tend to do so early in the morning. Aside from the occasional group of students fooling around the shallow end in the afternoons, the pool is empty most of the day. I usually make it a habit to come late in the evening, when I am least likely to encounter other people. Today, however, I need to swim now.

A pair of small changing rooms, one for each sex, is located opposite the entrance at the far end of the pool. They are separated from the pool itself by a shoulder-high wall, and inside are a few lockers reserved for regular pool users; mostly the swim team. I managed to acquire a key by suggesting to my therapist-at-the-time that regular pool visits might encourage more social interaction. In reality, I just wanted to be able to store several swimsuits at the pool in case of emergencies. I change quickly and head back to the pool, draping my towel over the corner of the separating wall nearest the female changing room.

As usual, the cool water immediately relaxes me. I lay back and float with just my nose and eyes above the surface. I can feel the heat of earlier stress and tension flow out of my chest and into my arms, like little fires racing to spread havoc. My arms burn for a second and then the energy dissipates, drawn out by the soothing waters like poison sucked from a wound. I have no particular love for swimming – I just love being in the water. It’s safe in the water. It seeps in every pore, dousing my emotions and leaving me free to relax. Nothing bad can happen when I am immersed in its serenity.

Even so, I am still mindful of the possibility that other people could arrive at any time. I swim in the lane closest to the changing rooms, towel never more than a few arms’ lengths away. Of course, I wear the least revealing one-piece I could find, but the scars on my leg and arm still show. People already react so negatively to the bits of my face left exposed by inadequate hair protection; I can hardly imagine their reaction to the rest of my mutilated body. I’d rather not have another reason to fear whisperings behind my back.

I hope the student council doesn't decide now is a good time to give him a tour of the facilities…

Nobody enters. I float around for a while, then swim a few laps and change back into my school uniform for the trek across campus to the girl’s dorm. It’s still early in the afternoon, but I have no desire to return to the school. I can read in my room, and spending time around other people will just raise my stress level again. Besides, I study best right after a swim. I can focus on absorbing new material better without other emotional stress around. My room is likely to have fewer distractions than the library, too.

I spend the next few hours attempting to complete the science work I was unable to finish in class, with little luck. It’s just not my forte. It doesn’t take long for me to give up and move on to light reading. To my surprise, I still find it difficult to focus. Visions of the new boy keep flashing through my head. I don’t know why. I’ve never before been so bothered by a new classmate. Perhaps a good night’s sleep will clear my mind.

_____________________

I like the style in which you've written this, and the intriguing fact that the introductory portion starts a month after the Yamaku portion. Great writing!

I agree. This is very good writing.
I don't see what part is experimental yet, but I'm willing to be surprised.

Hanako in a swimsuit / swimming pool heh? There was some discussion thread where that topic took up a few pages. My interpretation of Hanako would never do this as she's way too insecure, in particular about her scarred body. Wearing a swimsuit that reveals so much of her scarring would pose a risk to her that she'd never be willing to take at that point. I find it especially hard to believe that relaxation in water is her reason for doing this in spite of her issues, when I'd imagine she's constantly stressed out about someone showing up, which reads like that in your chapter as well actually. I do like the touches about her being so careful and taking measures like swimming on the lane closest to the changing rooms etc., I just don't think it's good enough justification.

Maybe if she's supposed to do some sports for her health and the doctors / Nurse recommended her swimming because sweaty fabric isn't so kind on her scarred skin (now I also recall the above mentioned thread talking about chlorine water...) it would be more believable to me.

That said you're intending to deviate and Hanako swimming is already a rather large deviation. I'm not sure if your Hanako characterization is supposed to be somewhat different from the start already or if that's mostly intended to happen by having a different plot. If it's the latter one and I already feel like this Hanako does something OOC that may mean it's not quite succeeding in that (for me personally).

However, that's again how I interpret Hanako and others don't see her quite that insecure/self-conscious. I do not think of Hanako as a weak, completely broken girl btw., I just think that, as opposed to e.g. trying to do socialize more because she wants progress in her life, she'd struggle very hard with being more acceptive about her body/looks/scars in public places. Primarily because her scars aren't just harming her beauty so to say but also remind her about the horrible past.

That said, it's perhaps a bit much criticism for that short of a story so far. I'm certainly curious about the continuation and as the two above me said, that level of writing is quite pleasant to read.

edit:
Here's the thread I mentioned. Hanako discussion starts at the bottom of the first thread pretty much. Guest Poster also has a remark about wearing a full wet-suit bthooefr (it ultimately probably drawing just as much attention).

She could go for a full wetsuit, then she'd be exactly as exposed as she is when normally clothed...

Mirage_GSM wrote:I agree. This is very good writing.

brythain wrote:I like the style in which you've written this, and the intriguing fact that the introductory portion starts a month after the Yamaku portion. Great writing!

Thank you! Those are significant compliments coming from the two of you!

Mirage_GSM wrote:I don't see what part is experimental yet, but I'm willing to be surprised.

I hope to surprise you!

Blasphemy wrote:Swimming Comments

Thank you for writing this. It isn't too harsh a criticism at all, and it's exactly the kind of feedback I am hoping for. I have a picture in my mind where all the pieces are already in place. Revealing it bit by bit is difficult to do, and it is hard for me to imagine exactly what sort of implications will be established in the mind of someone who doesn't have the whole picture yet. Your feedback suggests to me that I was successful in my goal for this first chapter. Thank you!

As for your specific comments; I agree with your assessment of Hanako's extreme aversion to swimming as a result of her scars. I am wary of explaining exactly why I decided to include it anyway, but it was a conscious choice after consideration of the exact issues you raised. I believe your response indicates it has had, more or less, the intended effect. I hope you'll come to understand and agree with my decision as the story progresses.

bhtooefr wrote:She could go for a full wetsuit, then she'd be exactly as exposed as she is when normally clothed...

I'll admit, I didn't consider that. I didn't realize that "full" swimsuits existed until I saw the one posted in the thread that Blasphemy linked. I envisioned something along the lines of this. I'm comfortable with this choice, however, and I'm glad people are paying close enough attention to be raising eyebrows. I hope to keep them raised for you.

I remember I did something like this before I started posting here. You and I seem to have similar ideas of how Hanako's mind works, I'd like to see where this goes. Also, I'm not sure if it was intentional, but you made me chuckle a bit by using fire-related words as often as you did. Like the others have said, this is very well written. I'm interested in seeing what you do with the newspaper club when that rolls around

Now for the mistake I spotted and a few nitpicks:

There are a few others on the school who swim regularly...

Should be in

The young man is quite handsome...

Seems a bit too formal, maybe just replace "The young man is" with "He's"

although his grey sweater vest and...

I'm not quite sure, but I think it says somewhere in the VN that he wears his old uniform on the first day? I may be mixing up details.

Finished distributing the papers, Mutou coughs...

It works, but it could be cleaner. Maybe rearrange it to be "Mutou coughs as he finishes distributing the papers" or something.

Like the others have said, this is very well written. I'm interested in seeing what you do with the newspaper club when that rolls around

Great start. I'm interested in seeing how the story with the old man and his son connects with the larger story. You have my interest.

Thank you for writing this. It isn't too harsh a criticism at all, and it's exactly the kind of feedback I am hoping for. I have a picture in my mind where all the pieces are already in place. Revealing it bit by bit is difficult to do, and it is hard for me to imagine exactly what sort of implications will be established in the mind of someone who doesn't have the whole picture yet. Your feedback suggests to me that I was successful in my goal for this first chapter. Thank you!

As for your specific comments; I agree with your assessment of Hanako's extreme aversion to swimming as a result of her scars. I am wary of explaining exactly why I decided to include it anyway, but it was a conscious choice after consideration of the exact issues you raised. I believe your response indicates it has had, more or less, the intended effect. I hope you'll come to understand and agree with my decision as the story progresses.

Good to hear you have it thought out, I'll be looking forward to more then.

I’m always leery of reading fanfic from authors I’m unfamiliar with. Glad this produced some good feedback, which meant I read it. And enjoyed it.

Maristo wrote:8:02am, June 4, 2007

Which is a Monday, and canonically Hisao’s first day at Yamaku.

Maristo wrote:Mutou enters the room with an unfamiliar boy in tow. This must be the transfer student he mentioned earlier this week.

Mutou told the students on Sunday? Perhaps you mean ‘last week’.

griffon8 wrote:Mutou told the students on Sunday? Perhaps you mean ‘last week’.

Good catch. Fixed.