I thought that, seeing as I've had an account here since December of last year, I may as well put a fanfic to my name, and what better way to start than with an adaptation of my favourite DS game?
DISCLAIMER: I do not, in any way, profit from the story and all creative rights to the characters and story belong to their original creators.
Before the Game
"Outta my face."
His eyes were shrouded by shadow as he kept his head slouched forward, his orange-brown hair sticking out at various angles. His clothes were baggy, his belt hung loose, his shorts were inappropriate in this climate, and he had been wearing his high-necked sleeveless dharma nearly non-stop for the better half of a year. He didn't care – what good were appearances when he needed to impress no-one?
The boy pushed his way across the Scramble, keeping his head down, his shoulders slumped and his hands deep in his pockets, his appearance disguising his animosity towards others not at all.
Upon reaching the far side of the road, he turned his gaze up the road ahead, towards the AMX store. A brown-haired girl, still wearing the white shirt and red bow of her school uniform, stopped absentmindedly a few yards before him to check her phone.
The boy heard himself saying "You're blocking my view," before shoving past her, not bothering to look back as he heard the clatter of a mobile on the pavement.
The street before the AMX mall was swarming with people, talking and laughing. They walked on every side, forcing snippets of conversations upon him. Music pumped from speakers either side of the doors to the mall, but the boy could hardly hear it above the hubbub. "Shut up. Stop talking."
Nearing Tipsy Tose Hall, a place only slightly less infested with people than AMX, one of his classmates waved a 'hello' at him, but the boy didn't return the acknowledgment, muttering only a few words as he strode passed, "Just go the hell away."
The walkway he was tracing curved up a shallow hill, paved with stairs and halved by a steel handrail, which was as cold to his touch as ice. Jumping the stairs two at a time, he at last saw the wall-art, the purpose of his visit – CAT's graffiti.
Even here, even in the polluted backstreets of Udagawa, where the walls of every street were plastered with murals or posters advertising anything, people flittered around and chattered like birds - loud, obnoxious birds.
All the world needs is me. I got my values, so you can keep yours, all right? He made his way passed Cyco Records without incident, but the discs they sold coaxed him to put on his blue headphones; the music was preferable to the hubbub of conversations.
Everything in this ward of Shibuya was a mixture of greys, browns and stale greens, and the muted blue and white of the boy's clothes, as well as his orange hair, made him stand out; made him a conspicuous target.
I don't get people. The music built a wall around him, the heavy beats drowning their voices. Never have, never will.