The air was crisp and quiet. A cool breeze fanned over two blonde figures on the nose of the sail boat. Behind them, a man with dirty blonde hair and strong arms let down the anchor. When he was finished, he approached his family-- the two pretty girls at the nose of the boat-- with a basket in his hand.
His chin-length hair swirled around him in the wind, and he smiled at his family as he sat down with them. He pulled the young girl into his lap, the salty air wrapping them all three like a hug. She looked out at the sea around the boat. Next to her, her mother's nervous eyes glances over the waves.
"I like it out here!" she cheered.
The shore was a thin line behind them. Her mother looked back at it and said, "All the swaying..."
"I think it's fun, Mom! Dad, isn't this fun?"
Her father calmed her and took out the sandwiches out of the basket, "Your mom just hasn't got her sea legs yet, Sea Monkey."
She scrunched her nose at the nickname and looked back out to the sea to admire the glittering caps on the waves, "I think I could stay out here forever."
Hands stopped over the blue-covered canvas. The last bit of glittery sunshine on the waves were coming together nicely. The line of shore in the distance was nothing more than a yellowish white line-- marked with just two figures standing on the beach.
"Jenni! Entra aqui ahora!"
Jenni's head didn't turn to her aunt's calls. Her face was outward-- towards the big, wide ocean in front of her. A wave caressed her legs in the water. They straddled a surf board much too big for her at eleven years of age. The small family had taken her to the beach for her eleventh birthday. She spent the whole day in the sea-- stumbling around and trying to figure out how to surf without her dad to catch her.
"Jenni!" shouted Uncle Luke, "it's time to go!"
She didn't want to go; she wanted to stay in the sea forever and try to act like nothing had ever happened. When she was in the water, it felt like her father was there with her-- watching, rooting for her in the shallows and ready to save her lest she drown. However, any time Jenni caught a wave, she never heard her father's triumphant calls.
He was gone, she told herself. Nothing could bring him back.
"Jenni!"
Unlike herself, she jumped back. Her paintbrush almost expelled from her grasp at the sudden entrance of Honey and Takashi.
"Knock much?" she seethed, "I could have been changing!"
Honey's eyes began to fill with glassy tears, "We knocked and you didn't answer."
She hadn't heard them knocking, "Oh," she said, "I guess I was zoning out."
"It's okay!" Honey reversed his attitude quickly.
She looked at them expectantly, "Well? What do you want?"
"We're going to visit Haru-chan with the rest of the Host Club, and we want you to come, too."
Jenni shook her head, "No, thanks."
Honey pouted, "But why not?"
"I have a feeling that this will be intruding on Haruhi's privacy-- especially if it was Tamaki's idea," she gave them a pointed look and sighed, "Besides, I have plans for today."
"What plans?"
Jenni sucked in her lip, "Personal plans, okay?" she told him as gently as she could. Truth be told, she wanted to be alone that day. With an adverted gaze, she shifted her weight and adjusted her shirt with a specific orange label. "I hope you guys have fun, though."
"But Jenni-chan--"
"Mitsukuni," Takashi said lowly, "let's go. Jenni-chan has plans."
Honey looked dissatisfied, but nodded once in acknowledgement. They left the room with a subtle "have a nice day". Jenni said the same and closed the door behind them.
In the hall, muffled, she heard Honey ask, "What's a Hooter's?"
Her face red, she looked down at her unfortunate selection in sleep shirts and huffed.
_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
The sand beneath her feet was warm. It gave away beneath her feet and bag, creating small footprints and impressions in the near-white terrain. The sand beneath her feet was familiar; the sand beneath her feet felt like home.
"What can I get you, young lady?"
Jenni almost gasped, lost in thought. She smiled apologetically at the man at the rental stand and said, "I'd like to rent a board for the afternoon, please."
She paid for the afternoon and took the board under her arm. Freshly waxed and brand new, the board felt familiar in her hold. She trapsed through the sand and to where she had set her bag to remove her large shirt. Shortly, she turned to the ocean, smiling as she entered its cool embrace.
"You ready, Sea Monkey?"
Jenni's bright eyes smiled at her dad-- a forest-like glimmer in the shining sun. She nodded at her dad and took his outstretched hand. He lifted her and started to walk her towards the shore line.
"Mommy, are you coming?" she asked her mother, still sitting on the shore.
Her father shushed her, "Mommy likes the sand, sweetie."
"Oh," she replied quietly. While she was upset for a moment. she soon got used to her mother's distaste of the sea. The woman was adamant of her distaste to the waves and water-- she preferred the shore. Jenni wasn't sure if Brooke, her mother, could not swim or if something had happened that made her afraid of the water. It did, however, establish a sort of distance between the mother and daughter.
Brooke had always been a watcher, an observer. At night, she'd hear her mother arguing with her father.
"You spend so much time with her--"
"--She's our daughter, Brooke!"
Jenni would cover her ears and hide under the blankets. She felt guilty, somehow, and while she tried to get her mother to have a good time with her father and her, nothing ever seemed to work. Her younger self never understood why.
Under the waves, everything seemed clear. Water rushed over her long, blonde hair and swirled her senses until she resurfaced. Even when she rolled over the sandy bottom and the line on the board tugged her ankle, she felt a sort of calm that she could only find in the embrace of a rocking wave.
She resurfaced and flipped her hair out of her face. The salty water in her eyes stung, but almost sweetly. Once she was back on her board, she started paddling out to the surf once more, trying to recall anything she could about her father. Anything besides that day. The blood and the yelling.
Anything but her loneliness since.
In the distance, an outline of a boat sailed across the water.
"My dad made this boat, you know," her father pulled her into his lap. The waves rocked the boat ever so slightly. On the shore, her mother paced back and forth on a phone call.
Jenni was sleepy in his hold, lulling softly with the waves. A whole day of sailing had left her little body exhausted. After an argument, her mother had insisted to be let off at the docks. The pair left on the boat wanted to watch the sunset.
Orange and pink blotted the sky in swirling colors.
"He gave it to my brother and I when he died. Uncle Luke wanted to live inland with your Tia, so he let me have it."
Jenni smiled, "I like it," she told him, "it's quiet out here."
Her father placed a kiss on her head, "I'm gonna give it to you someday, Sea Monkey."
Her tired eyes smiled brightly, "Really?"
"Really."
Jenni always guessed that her mother had blamed her for her father's death. It was evident in the way she acted before she left. Brooke had always been the colder of the two parents, but after her father died, she looked at her daughter in a way that was hateful. She had only come to the hospital to fill out some paperwork, and to look at Jenni in her half-awake daze with disgust on her sneer.
When Jenni had been released from the hospital, it hadn't been to her mother.
She was gone; just gone.
She had left, and she had, ironically and irritatingly, taken the boat with her.
The stupid woman couldn't sail to save her life, so everyone assumed she left with it in order to commit suicide. Jenni pondered that she had taken the boat as one last stab to her own daughter. It hurt her stomach and chest when Jenni thought about it. While grief was something she could handle, the absolute rage she felt when thinking of her mother and what she had done filled her to the brim.
She used to love her mother, although her mother did not love her. Or at least, she used to try. Even after she had left, she had tried to see it her way. She must have been hurt, after all, her husband was dead.
Now, she was filled with hate; unadulterated hate that she could not overcome.
But it didn't have to meant that she couldn't be happy.
_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*__*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
"Have a nice day, young lady," the rental man said to her.
Jenni smiled and told him the same. With her bag in hand and still smelling of the sea and sand, she walked towards the train station. Once in the rather comfy seat, she pulled her bag into her lap and sat quietly, listening to the silent rails and letting the train sway her smoothly.
Jenni's frame sat at the kitchen table, darkened by the dim light above. A muscularly thin fifteen-year-old, her hair fell to her somewhat bony shoulders. From the back room, she could hear silent arguing. In guilt, she stared down at a pair of bony, bruised, and somewhat bloody knuckles.
She hadn't always been bright and bubbly. Her teenage years had hit her like a train-- a terrible time for anyone. Along with her situation and the lack of a mother, she was out of luck. Out of patience. She felt like she was out of chances.
"Jen-Jen," little hands groped her knees. Her five-year-old cousin looked up at her with big brown eyes.
It was June 14th, five years to the day that her father died. Five years since her once comfortable life was turned upside down. She sat in her uncle and aunt's kitchen after getting into a fight in the school yard with a boy in her class. It was after summer school classes, which Jenni had had to take for missing too much school the year before.
He hadn't won.
Violent, explosive, angry, and aggressive were some of the words whispered in the principals office. They were the same words being shouted in the back room.
"Jen," her cousin said, "estadas triste?"
Jenifer took her baby cousin up in her arms, "Yeah, mi prima, I am."
Her cousin grimaced, "Por que?"
June 14th was the day Jenni couldn't forget. For others, it was probably a birthday of a loved one, another day on the train, another bright day in Tokyo. Perhaps someone was on a first date, or getting their first kiss. Maybe there was someone in the world receiving good news, someone being born, and of course, someone being lost.
To Jenni, June 14th was a day she had to hold in a somber reverence. Jenni got off the train in the market district in Tokyo, which was the closest to the Morinozuka estate. Once out of the train station, her bag heavy on her shoulder, she walked down the street, her feet still feeling as if they were in the soft sand.
She wondered when she'd go back during the summer break coming up. While she wanted to go home for a visit, she and her family didn't have the money for such a thing. Perhaps she'd go back to the beach every week-- no, maybe everyday.
Don't be ridiculous, she told herself, you'll still have dojo.
She felt a tug on her bag. Now, while Tokyo is arguably one of the safer cities in the world, Jenni knew the feeling of a tug on her bag when she felt one. Her heart accelerated, and in a flash she had turned and sent a strong fist flying towards the assailant's head area.
A strong hand caught her own just in time.
"I thought you heard me," said the taller boy, "sorry."
"Kasanoda-san," she retracted her hand, "hi."
"Hi," he put his hands into his pockets, "I saw you and uh-- I asked if I could take your bag."
Jenni stiffed a smile and hiked the bag up her shoulder, "Yeah, sorry about almost punching you."
"Just glad I was fast enough to catch it," he laughed nervously, a bit of sweat coated his rather stern forehead. Even when he laughed lightly, he had a sort of scowl plastered onto his face. Jenni wondered if he ever smiled. "So can I?"
"Huh?"
"Can I take your bag?"
Jenni shook her head, "Sorry, I'm actually heading... home right now." she wasn't sure what to call the Morinozuka estate at that point in time, really. She settled on the word for home, unsure of what else to refer it as.
Ritsu narrowed his gaze, if that was even possible, "You're walking alone?"
Jenni nodded.
"So where's--"
"--Jenni."
Jenni's blonde hair flew a bit in the ponytail as she spun around, nearly knocking into the firm chest of none other than Takashi. Without meaning to, her face heated up into a cheeky red. A bit of sunburn on her cheeks became evident as she realized the predicament she was in. Takashi had made it clear that he did not care for her hanging around Ritsu Kasanoda; the son of some sort of gang lord, apparently.
"Morinozuka-senpai," Ritsu said. He was caught between looking at Takashi in the eye and awkwardly looking off to the side. They were caught in the middle of sidewalk in a terrible silence.
Jenni quickly put her hand up to Takashi's chest, "It was nice to see you, Kasanoda-san," she waved at him.
"Yeah," he said, "You too."
Takashi was pretty quick to allow Jenni to walk ahead of her, making sure to send a glare of sorts in Ritsu's direction before following behind her.
"How'd you know where I was?" Jenni asked, not bothering to spare him a glance.
He caught onto her evasion of the Ritsu topic.
"Suzuki-san told me where he dropped you off."
"I was at the beach," she told him, "I told you I wanted to be alone today."
"I came with the car to pick you up."
Jenni sighed, seeing the black limousine parked near them on the sidewalk. She was tempted to walk right past it. "I see," she said.
Takashi looked at her. He worried about her. While she had passed by their invitation this morning, he knew something was off. She was upset about something, maybe many things since he had reacted to Ritsu's appearance. He didn't say anything; he just opened the door for her.
Jenni got in rather angrily and placed her bag on her lap. She was silent the whole ride, placing her knees towards the opposite side of the limo as to where Takashi was sitting.
Great, he thought, now I've done it.
And just after he had decided to make a move. Was he really so jealous? He had never considered himself a jealous person. Then again, Jenni brought out a lot of odd emotions Takashi hadn't experienced before. She drove him crazy in somehow the best and the worst ways possible.
Even as they sat in the limo, her angled away from him with her arms cross and with an evident look of distaste on her face, he felt a mixture of feelings he swore he'd never get over. Elation just by being near her, he thought of the way she put her head on his shoulder when they had sat on the roof the weekend before. He was terrified of her being angry with him-- of losing what little place he felt he had in her life thus far. What if he pushed her away and she wanted to go back to the United States?
"I didn't know Kasanoda was going to be there," she said angrily, "Not that I have to defend myself to you."
He knew that. He couldn't help himself, though. He'd try to meditate on it; he swore he wouldn't leave his room that night until he thought off the feeling. Maybe he should talk to his father. Maybe--
"I know," is what he told her.
He had told her clearly of his worries about Ritsu's character and reputation. Takashi wasn't one to delve into hearsay; it was another one of those things that Jenni had brought out in him. It's like she had picked apart every part of him. Every bit that he knew about and the bits he wanted to keep secret. The bits he himself hadn't known about at all until she showed up at his doorstep that day in early spring.
She was smart. She was funny, witty, kind and clever and a little explosive.
She got out of the car before him and practically stomped up to her room.
After a shower, she painted a little bit, letting the music drown out whatever poor emotions it could. She was tired, but she doubted that she'd be able to sleep that night. She never could on June 14th.
The blue canvas was about ready; her time on the waves that day had been good inspiration. The pretty white sand in the distance was bright, the clouds above her sparse and barely covered the beaming sun. The figures on the sandy shore were miniscule; small. A whisper of a memory left behind on a summer day. They were neither here nor there.
And neither was she.
She wasn't always kind. Perhaps once she had been more explosive than she was when Takashi had first met her. Ritsu, in a way, reminded her of what she was; how she had been.
Cold.
It was the only way she found to cope. Maybe if everyone was afraid of her nothing bad could happen. She wouldn't have anyone else to worry about.
The kitchen door pounded twice. Jenni picked up her cousin and padded her way to open the door.
Uncle Beppu looked at her with a look that was nearly indescribable. A mixture of pain, regret, and disappointment.
"Luke asked me to pick you up for the night."
She knew that her Aunt was upset with her. The woman thought Jenni was a devil in disguise sometimes and there wasn't much she could do about it. She was a misguided teenager on the brink of destruction; her Aunt wanted her out of the house, at least for the night.
In Beppu's car, the radio was not on.
He sighed, "I don't think I should teach you anymore."
"That's totally unfair--"
"You can't go around hurting people just because you're hurt, Jenni!" he shouted. He never shouted. He was Mr. Cool, Calm, and Collected.
Jenni bit her lip.
"First you nearly fail your sophomore year, and now you're picking fights with random boys?"
Her face felt hot.
"Those who cannot control themselves shouldn't learn--"
"--he was picking on someone else!" she admitted.
Uncle Beppu paused, "What do you mean?"
Jenni explained, "I was outside, waiting for Uncle Luke to pick me up, and I heard this kid, Kenny, yell at the asshole to stop. When I looked over, this kid was cornering Kenny and the next thing I knew I--" she seethed a breath. "Kenny's small. Can't fend for himself. I guess I was having a bad day so after I got him off Kenny I... I just didn't stop."
The car fell silent. Beppu glanced over at her once before looking back onto the road.
Jenni clarified, "I promise I'll learn control, please." she turned to him, "Don't take this away from me. I love martial arts, and I'm really good at it."
"I want you to try to focus on Judo more. Karate is too combative."
Jenni felt relieved, "Yes! Thank you. I promise," she told him, "I promise I'll do better."
Beppu just shook his head, "I know you will."
Jenni took her gaze from his face and looked down at the car's time and date.
8:17 PM
June 14
The lights in her room were dim.
Midnight had rolled around quickly. Takashi had spent much of the afternoon in the empty garden space near the dojo after his kendo session. It didn't matter what he did; he couldn't get her off his mind. He had run into his bedroom door that night. Pome, his raccoon dog, yipped and wondered what was wrong with his owner. Takashi held his head tightly and squinted away the pain. Beyond his bedroom window, the dim light emitting from the room across the estate remained so.
She was sitting on the floor, looking up at her completed canvas. An angry look plastered itself on her face, scowling up at the pretty blues and yellows of the depiction of the beach.
She wasn't painting. Or dancing around with her earbuds in. Or just sleeping.
She was seething.
The next thing he knew, she was off the floor and tossing the canvas off towards the corner, where the others propped themselves up on the wall. They knocked over and toppled, and Jenni's face, although not in good lighting, was red and angrily twisted. He had never seen her so enraged.
As quick as it had come, it was gone, replaced with hot tears streaming down a tired face. Her body toppled to the floor, knees to her chest, hands to her face, raking through that pretty blonde hair. The freckles and sunburn on her cheeks wrinkled in contorted pain.
Takashi's feet moved faster than he could fathom.
In just a moment, he was at her door, just knocking once before entering. At first, unsure of what to do, he caught her eyes. Glassy like a green body of water reflecting the light of a sad moon-- her eyes stared up at him. She wiped her eyes and was about to ask him what he was doing, but couldn't get the words out.
Takashi got to the floor and within a second lifted her onto his lap. To his surprise, she didn't ask him to release her. Instead, she just started crying again.
And he held her until her tears ran out.