ARBITARY | Sano Manjirou

eight

This was probably how Emma felt on the daily with Draken.

The two of them were in a platonic love that neither would admit out loud. It had been like that for the longest time. But who was Anari to talk?

The girl pulled out her 2001 model powerbook, web searching an image of the blue butterfly that was printed onto her little charm that she squeezed within the palm of her hand. They weren't anywhere close native to Japan. It was disappointing for such a beautiful species.

She shut her laptop down and envisioned the color in her mind.

A color that suited her well, much contrasting the boring brown that sat on the mop of her head. Maybe it was time to dye it. It had grown well long enough. The color of the sky that everyone looked up to .. where butterflies soared.

But before deciding to go back to sleep, there was a knock on her door, breathing out a sigh. Always Baji or Mikey, spontaneous with their meet up's and hang outs, never letting anyone know in advance if they were excited.

Well, they were in their right minds to be excited after forming a gang after-all.

"What are you guys do--" Anari cut herself off when she swung the door open .. only for there to be no one, no one at all. Only the sound of a car racing down the road in an instant, giving her a crawling sense of deja-vu.

Had the Black Dragons discovered her home and affiliation with Kazutora?

She immediately stepped back inside her home, but looking down at her door-step there was a box. There was a momentary debate on whether or not she should take it in with her.

But she did so anyway, locking her doors and covering all of her windows afterward, even locking them.

The odor that came from the box rotted through her home as she plugged her nose. More importantly, the box was heavy. She swore on all the clouds covering the sun that day that if Pah-chin and Kazutora decided to prank her and send her a block of cheese, she would commit arson on their bikes.

Something told Anari not to open the box, but her brain screamed like pandora's urging curiosity that enabled every nerve in her body, bypassing the adrenaline as she scrunched her nose up at the smell, slowly undoing the ribbon and scrunching her nose up in distaste at the color of the box.

Who in their right mind would choose a tie-dye box? Why not just one solid color and call it a day? More importantly, why a navy blue and maroon dotted box? Abstract art was a questionable thing, a term used for those who simply couldn't paint, or draw and used it as an excuse.

Or at least that was her opinion.

It'd been a while since she had received a boxed present like this.

Lifting up the lid, the smell only grew stronger. Only then did she feel more sure that one of them had played a prank on her.

Completely tossing the lid aside, Anari lifted up the piece of tissue paper layered on top, separating her eyes and the present.

And god did she wish in that very moment that she was blind.

The odor, the stench, the color.

It wasn't a crappy tie-dye box.

The maroon splotches were the shade of oxidized crimson, dried up like days of packaging.

Anari jumped back, letting out a yelp as a fly flew out of the box, scaring the daylight out of her small fragile being. Slowly as Anari crawled back to it, there was a material, almost similar to .. hair. But this hair wasn't dry and hay-like similar to a doll's, but rather it was more like .. grease. Almost as if someone hadn't showered in days-- weeks for that matter.