Subject: [FFML] Re: [ORIG] Ganbatte, Kaori-chan! -- Part 01
From: "DB Sommer" <sommer@3rdm.net>
Date: 7/29/2001, 12:15 PM
To:
CC: <ffml@anifics.com>

Matthew Johnston wrote:

This is a sequel to "Okaeri, Kaori-chan!"  If you haven't read
it, I suggest you go to http://www.kingdomofmel.com/cafe-pierrot/
and read it there.  This story doesn't attempt to avoid spoilers
for that story, so be forewarned!

Due to time constraints, I can't read that one, so I'll just have to take my
chances.


"I don't know if I can ever let you in.  I'm sorry."  With
that, Kaori turned, and began walking back to her dorm room.

Over the next three days, as they packed and lived and finally
traveled home, Satoru felt himself crumble from the inside.

crumble from the inside or on the inside?

She showed no signs of reversing a decision it looked like she'd
made the second another had taken what she'd been saving.

Whoa! Not sure if that needs commas or if words are missing or what, but I
couldn't follow that at all.


Throughout the next portion of their lives, one soundtrack
played to distant hearts.  That music of synchronicity set them
on a path together, even as they tried to stay apart.

With their loss of innocence came a clarity of vision.

     The music of love lingers...
     ...resonant hearts beat as one.

Nice passage above there.


November 28, 1997

Hmm. When you originally wrote this, or is there some other reason this part
takes place in the past?


Hands.
     The word shot at Kaori like a spear.

I don't really picture spears as being 'shot' Perhaps using a crossbow bolt
or arrow would be a better for the metaphor (or simile. I keep forgetting
which is which.)

 She'd written it
down, just one word among so many others. That it caught her eye
after the fact disgusted her; she was writing a love song.  But
there it was, glaring back at her, piercing her brain.

Heh. Just like writing literature, at times.

     She clenched her eyes shut.
     "Get a grip," she muttered.  But as she spoke the words,
her mind's eye began to open, spewing imagery.
     Hands on her body.  Pushing inside her.  One finger, then
two. Kaori could hear herself screaming; she could feel the
pain.  The image pushed against her harder, penetrating her will
as she shook her head.
     "No," she whispered.  But it kept pushing.

Might want to connect that into one sentence. Not necessary, however the
'but' part looks odd to me.

     The hands were on her neck now, strangling her.  She wanted
them to.  Maybe if she died in this one, it would end.  She felt
the breath trapped in her lungs, her throat slowly collapsing
under the pressure of thumbs.  They let go before they were
finished.  But it was too late; her throat was crushed, and she
lay there on the kitchen floor, cold tiles on her naked body,
clutching at her throat.

These family get togethers around Thanksgiving were always such a pain.

     "NO!"
     She heard herself screaming aloud.
     The image flashed off, like a television changing channels,
and she was back inside herself, looking into the blackness of
her shut eyes.

Since she's coming back into 'blackness' might want to make the comparison
to a TV being shut off, since switching channels to me implies there would
be a different image replacing the one of murder. Not sure if I'm expressing
myself correctly, but I think you should consider it.

Kaori opened her eyes slowly, the brightness of
her desk lamp unwelcome.  The worst of it had passed, but she
still felt her breath tight in her lungs.  She looked at her
hands and saw them white-knuckled in fists.  They hurt as she
opened them, aching muscles and joints, burning marks from her
finger nails.

think that's just one word.

  She spoke to herself softly.
     "Just keep calm.  Mom didn't hear.  It's okay.  Look at
your room.  Look at your bed.  Just look at it all.  It's just
how you left it.  It's just how you wanted it to be when you got
back.  Everything is in its place.  All the stuffed animals and
posters and your CD's

CDs' (I think)

 back in their rack and the boxes unpacked
and everything back where it belongs.

Especially the body of the dead cats she had brought back with her. Yes.
Everything was right where it belonged.

     Kaori could hear her breathing slow, and finally return to
normal.  She hated this.  She felt a creeping wave of nausea,
her stomach gurgling angrily.
     "And now for

now, for (I think)

 the last act of this little drama."  It passed
over her like a steady layer of tar, a black thick lava.

As much as I underuse metaphors, you might be overdoing them a bit. I'd be
careful about it.

     'It's getting worse,' she thought, wiping her mouth.  'It
only took hands.'  In the clarity of her body's shaking
weakness, she frowned.  'It's getting much worse.'
     She wanted to do something to keep her mind off of all

think you can drop that 'of'

     Half of Kaori's mind suddenly smiled; the other half shook
its head.

Heh. I know that feeling.

     The protesting half of her mind tried to gather some
friends.

But like her, it had no friends. :)

     "Okay, Kaori," she muttered, looking for her address book.
"Maybe you put it down."  She found the book in the back of her
nightstand drawer, next to her broken Mickey Mouse wristwatch.

What? Not 'Hello, Kitty'?

She flipped through the book, chuckling at how haphazard
everything had been written.  When she reached Masao's address,
she realized why she'd written it down in the first place.  A
large scribble:  "Mailbomb the bastard!" accompanied by an
overly cute doodle of something with fangs and horns flipping
off an imaginary Masao.

Heh. cute.


     Her hand shook as she picked up the receiver and dialed.
After three rings,

I'd recommend throwing something about it being answered here, because I
wasn't aware of it until you mentioned the maid.

     "It's not that... say, why are you still here, anyway?  I
thought the pizza had disappeared an hour ago."  Satoru lifted
the lid of the pizza box resting at Ichiro's feet on the bed,
just to be sure.

Heh

     Satoru chuckled.  "Let me guess, good with the hands?"
     "The subtle art of bringing an LP to climax has been sought
after by many a young DJ.

Heh.

     "I'm sorry, sir," mumbled the first, his voice so deep
Satoru felt it in his chest more than he heard it.  "We cannot
let you approach the building without some proper
identification."

Hmm. Interesting.

     "So?  What'd you write?" Satoru asked anxiously as Ichiro
dialed the number on the phone keypad.  It rang once, followed
by a loud click of the phone being hung up.
     Ichiro grinned, and whispered, "It was the chemical
composition of Ecstasy."
     Satoru's jaw went slack.
     "I told you, this is a Chem department party.  Nobody
outside the department is supposed to be allowed in."  The front
door clicked as the automatic locks snapped open.

Heh. Very, very nice.

     "Nah, I gave them Masao's number.  He'll probably be
knocking on your door when they ask for Ichiro's friend."
Ichiro paused.  "Actually, our two friends back there will
probably come knocking on your door when Masao gives them your
number... does he know it?  Ah well.  Regardless, you'll
probably be just fine.  I'm sure they'll understand it was all a
big accident."  With that, Ichiro disappeared into the darkened
building.
     Satoru shook his head.  "What did I get myself into?"

Something bad, but that's what makes life fun.

     Finally, she gave up, and put on an almost-black pair of
slacks and a smart slate gray blouse that hung loosely over her
frame; she noted calmly then how much weight she'd lost over the
last month.  Slipping on a pair of canvas sneakers, she felt an
odd, half-familiar satisfaction.  She unbuttoned her blouse to
the third button, letting it slide back and off her shoulders,
revealing the straps of her bra.  As an afterthought, she rolled
up her slacks to mid-thigh, smiling at how not wearing socks
showed off her ankles.

Blech. Don't know anyone that has nice ankles. They are just not an aestetic
looking body part, IMO.

     She brought the bottle to her nose, and sniffed cautiously.
"I haven't worn this in years," she mumbled.  "And now I'm
wearing perfume for Masao?"  The perfect irony of it made her
grin a little.  "Maybe I should become a novelist instead of a
musician."
     She removed the cap and tipped the bottle on a fingertip.
Two quick strokes on her neck, one on each wrist, and one over
her sternum.  "Let's see if he gets that far."

Heh. So much for feeling trepedation.

     'It's just as well you don't say anything,' she
rationalized.  'Save your ammo for when it counts.'  She sat
quietly in the middle of a hurricane, and wondered where it was
taking her.
     "Don't worry."  Masao's voice was suddenly clear, and it
took her a second to realize he'd turned off the stereo as he'd
started talking.  "I'm not... going to try anything stupid."

"Bastard!" And Kaori hit him. Masao then learned the art of not telling a
woman you were unwilling to molest them, since they regard that as a sign
they are unattractive. Of course one cannot say that they would molest them,
as then one would be called a pervert and then they hit you. Best just to
keep one's mouth shut and let the woman talk, agreeing with everything they
said, just like a mindless zombie would.

     Kaori found herself wishing it'd rain, so she'd have
something to look at on the windshield other than traffic and
the city.  She felt suddenly dry in the mouth

'dry in the mouth' sounds bland and awkward. Perhaps, "Her mouth went
dry...' and change the rest of the sentence to fit.


It was like descending into an earthquake.  Taking the stairs to
the second basement, Satoru and Ichiro stepped more cautiously
as the music threatened to rumble the ground from beneath their
feet.
"Now I can see why they have these underground," he
commented, louder than he normally would have to, to Ichiro.
Ichiro nodded in reply, his grin evident even from behind.
     "Nothing beats a good all-nighter.  You'll be pleasantly
surprised, I think."  His voice rose above the din, barely
audible as they approached the second basement door.  A
terrifyingly large man, one who would dwarf the two guards

should probably be 'who dwarfed the'

     At that, the girl laughed once, silent in then

the

the beat more than he heard it; it was loud, to be sure, but
after a few minutes in the basement, his ears had closed most of
the sound off.  Now, he could feel it rattling in his chest.

Heh. Know that feeling as well

 He
felt oddly impressed with it all.
     As he reached the center of the dance floor, Satoru felt
himself being compressed as innumerable bodies dance

danced

     "All right," Satoru spoke to himself, his voice barely
audible in his own head.  "You've made it this far."  He looked
to his right and saw her, eyes still closed, body still moving
like water to the music.  He wasn't sure, but suddenly the bare
beat had been joined by an inaudibly low melody, one that had
sneaked up on him while he was thinking.
     "Hey Itoe,

Hey, Itoe

     The dance hall moved in slow motion as the man grabbed Itoe
by the arm, and pulled her to him.  The room became suddenly
claustrophobic as Itoe struggled, her eyes making contact with
Satoru's.  For a moment, everything was quiet, and everything
was still.  He would remember nodding an affirmative, as if to
say "I'll rescue you," but he would never be sure if he actually
managed something so cool, because the memory would seem too
much like a dream to be real.

Heh. That can be the way of it sometimes. Other times you end up memorizing
every little detail without realizing it until later.

     "Hands off, buddy!"  Satoru grabbed the man's shoulder, and
pulled him back, separating him from Itoe by a few inches.  He
heard the man cry out in pain, and saw Itoe grinding her heel on
the man's shoe.

That'll hurt.

     The blade connected, stabbing into his side as he turned to
face his attacker.  He felt the scrape of metal against bone,
and a wave of nausea.  His last, blurry vision before he passed
out was of Ichiro and the bouncers wrestling the man to the
ground, and the tears in Itoe's eyes as she kneeled over him,
telling him it would be okay.

Took a knife would for her. He'll be getting that number for sure, now.


Kaori wanted desperately to close her eyes, but didn't dare.  'I
want to see the car or van or truck or whatever we're going to
run into and die because Masao is driving like a maniac racing
some professional with his look-at-me-I'm-really-rich import
sports car!'  She felt her lungs tighten, her own mind causing
her to hyperventilate.

And she thought the choking hands had been bad. :)

     "Masao!"
     "Shut up, bitch!"  Masao yelled through clenched teeth.

Ohhh. Not good.

     It wasn't until Masao's car hit the pro's car again that
life moved at normal speed.  In the split-second between the
motion and stillness, Kaori felt herself wanting to cry.  But
she didn't have time.  She saw the limp body of the pro, his
head leaning on his steering wheel, a silhouette against the
street lamps, and lost consciousness.

My. What an ending. Nice tension there. Characters were well rounded and
things flowed smoothly. Looking forward to more.

D.B. Sommer




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