You need to change. Your kendo won't get better at this rate.
Houki slammed her locker door shut. Wiping the day's sweat with her procured towel. What did she know? What did anyone know? Houki was and still is the best member of this stupid kendo club. Despite attending the school for less than three months, she'd proven time and again via ranking matches that she was leagues beyond the reach of the others. They probably didn't trust her, that or their pride was just bruised. Houki didn't really care either way, none of that mattered.
Ever since that day three years ago, the day her life became a hectic mess all thanks to that meddling maniac of a sister. She hated that woman. Whatever blood they shared was considered cursed in her book.
Houki turned her attention elsewhere as she searched for the bottle of water she'd been drinking and spotted it over by the benches in the middle of the locker room. She quickly went over to retrieve it, fortunate as it was that the place was empty save for her. The silence broke easily with the screeching of metal door hinges. Sounds of giggling could be heard in the suddenly cavernous room. Savored silence quickly turning into a buzz of gossip.
"-and so, I told her that she definitely should call him."
"Seriously? I thought you wanted him for yourself!"
"Sheesh! I thought he was hot but I never staked a claim."
"You two.", a sigh.
"Just because you have a boy frie-"
Three girls stopped dead in their tracks when they saw the rigid figure of Houki. She looked unnaturally aggravated, but the girls of the club learned that it seemed to be the norm for her. That's why they always kept silent and put fair distance between themselves and her. They treated her much like anyone would a plague, or more like a wild beast. They never knew when she'd snap, what would possibly set her off. She once punched a girl in the face for trying to befriend her for the first two weeks of transferring in. Said girl was traumatized and became withdrawn since then. It was anybody's guess as to how Shinonono ticked.
Houki herself ignored them and walked back to her locker. She drained the last drops in her water bottle and calmly screwed the cap back on. She looked at the empty packaging and thought back on her life thus far. She had to switch schools every six months, three if things seemed dangerous. She couldn't make friends, she'd just lose them again. There was nobody she could trust herself with, no one she could know long enough to build that trust. Her family called every now and then, some even had to communicate with her by letter, but she couldn't even begin to tell them of her worries. Even as a child she was already aware, that these men in black that dragged her all around the country were always keeping tabs on her. They had her phones tapped, all mail opened, scrutinized and resealed before they reached their intended recipient. It felt like a prison. Living like this would not let her advance.
Pain faintly registered in Houki's mind as she looked at the crumpled plastic in hand. She hadn't remembered doing such. Her hand was still shaking as the pressure of her fingers did not let up. She gripped her uncontrolled wrist with her free hand. Slowly, she eased off the grip but kept the bottle in hand. This was just one more reason she couldn't move forward with her life. She didn't want to. Though her mind wanted to, the heart and body thought otherwise. Outrage and anger had coursed through her body that day. She watched, powerless as her friend ran after their accelerating car. The houses, the streets, her town, it all faded away before her as her hands grasped at things out of reach.
At first, all that negativity was something she willingly harbored. No one could go near her without setting her off. She was like a cursed blade, willing to hurt anyone, anything, so long as they knew her pain. Through the years, this malignant mass was tempered into a questionable strength. That blade Houki carried herself as growing only sharper, if not chipping away at the edge. Before she was aware of it, Houki had become a being of violence. She was purely and existence that knew only how to hurt, how to be hurt. She knew the words, knew the actions and all she could do was let out the evils that always gathered within her.
The girl she'd punched after her transfer was proof enough. She hadn't meant it. Houki never meant to raise a hand against her, but certain boundaries were crossed and lines ignored. Everything became a haze of black, white and red. By the time she became aware, Houki was standing over a girl with a bruised cheek and two teeth on the marbled floor. That traitorous fist of hers was dripping blood from where loose teeth sank in.
It was all far beyond her now. This present and her future were bereft of hope. There was nothing left for her to do with it, nothing but destroy it.
Houki stepped up to a trash bin and tossed in the former plastic bottle.
The girl opened her locker to collect things for her shower. Her busy hands stopped at a picture that lay haphazardly over her regular clothes. It was undamaged, pristine and smooth as the picture displayed an older woman with black hair, herself when she was five, a boy her age whose pout reflected her own and a man in his late thirties.
Houki lifted it up to her eyes. She carried it with such delicacy that it seemed a treasure she valued far beyond the opinion of her peers or material wants.
Okay, if you win the nationals, then we'll go out and celebrate. Make sure and win alright? I'll definitely keep my promise no matter what happens.
Tenderly pressing the photo against her bossom, Houki recalled only those words. Eyes bright with fire and the callouses of a swordsman present in hands that took her own. The scent of fall filling her senses as the wind tossed her hair and ribbon in a tangled dance. Yes, that time was the only important time to her right now. The now and hereafter could leave her behind. Everything could change, just not that time... the last time she was happy.