Disclaimer: Oh, please. If I owned Digimon, I wouldn't have to write fanfics because I'd be filthy freaking rich.

Summary: Killer soccer balls, weird monsters, and a psychopathic underclassman with a God-complex. And here I thought moving was supposed to be fun. .:Adventure 02 Rewrite, OC/?:.

Word Count: 2,349

Warnings: None.


Dear Mom,

Hey, how's it going? Long time no write. Daddy and the twins have been keeping me on my toes, sorry. Ryou and Ryuu have been a lot brattier than usual. Did you know Daddy and Ryou nearly burnt down the kitchen last week? Uh, don't get mad, though- nothing actually caught fire for more than fifteen seconds. Now there's a big black scorch mark above the stove and it kinda looks like a hippo eating icecream. The picture is attached. Personally, I think it gives the kitchen character. When you get here, please keep in mind that I had absolutely nothing to do with this incident.

Everyone is doing fine up here in Odaiba. Daddy got all of us enrolled in school and everything. I know you know this already, but I don't want to go. I liked it back in Tokyo. Everything here is so…strange. Why did we have to move, again? I mean, we all had lives back in Tokyo. It's not fair that we have to just drop everything and move away just like that. You guys didn't even tell us we were leaving until like, a week before.

You suck, Mom. I mean that in the most loving way possible, please don't ground me.

Your loving daughter,

Rikku


Everyone's familiar with that feeling you get waking up for the first day of school, right? You are violently catapulted from the one of the most epic dreams you've ever had in your life into a world of boring and normal and educational. You sit up, mourn the loss of precious sleeping time (after all, you were up until who-knows-when picking out outfits and making sure you had all your stuff) and then suddenly jump out of bed because it's the first day of school. Everybody knows you only do fun stuff on the first day. You begin the rush to make sure that you are perfect and well fed and pretty and generally just flawless and appearance and personality. I was no exception.

After the five minutes of absolute panic when I couldn't find my contact case and had to stumble around nearly blind, I was back on my feet and fully clothed. I stared into my bathroom mirror with a critical eye. I hadn't yet hit the pimply stage of my life and I would probably poke my own eye out if I tried eyeliner or mascara or anything, so I never wore makeup aside from maybe some lip-gloss. Thankfully, that meant there was nothing to worry about in the facial department today. I ran my hand a few times through my short black bangs a few times to try and give them some volume and pinned the longer half of them back with a cute little white hairpin. I tugged on my black pleated skirt just a bit self-consciously- I hated skirts with a passion. They were so…airy. It was weird. I didn't even think I owned anything this frilly till Daddy threw it at my face this morning. Bleh.

I gave up on trying to make my skirt more comfortable and straightened out my dusky blue t-shirt with a sigh of finality. Everyone was going to think I was some sort of girly-girl now, but I didn't have enough time to go find a better pair of pants. I rushed out of the bathroom, narrowly dodging two shaggy twin heads of blue that waited not-so-patiently outside the door.

"It's about time you got out!" The one on the left said, rolling his eyes and stuffing his hands into his hoodie pocket.

"What, you think doing your hair all nice is gonna make you look pretty?" The one on the right continued, snorting ruefully.

I had the sudden overwhelming urge to throw a few small children out a window.

"It still looks like a rat's nest to me!" Ryou and Ryuu, my eternally bratty younger brothers, stuck out their tongues as one. I stuck mine out right back, crossing my arms threateningly and looming over the both of them. Scoffing, they both turned and walked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind them. There was a slight glow of pride in my chest and it took concentrated effort not to make a triumphant taunting face at their backs. Stick that one in your juices boxes and suck it, you little brats.

I turned on my heel and went racing down the stairs, my curly mess of long hair bouncing around in it's low side ponytail. I really hated my hair. Most people were like 'Oh! Curly hair! I wish I had that!' but trust me, you don't. It tends to not only curl, but curl around other curls which just makes brushing a painful hassle. For now, I could only be thankful that my hair was starting to get long enough to weigh itself down and make the curls less of a boingy hassle. I would've taken the time to straighten it for today, but I haven't quite gotten around to getting all my hair supplies out of the moving boxes yet.

Speaking of boxes, karma chose that exact moment to bring to my attention the box conveniently placed at the base of the stairs. As usual, the warning came a few seconds too late. My foot hit the top of the box and I fell forwards, landing flat on my face with a rather painful crash. The box and it's pointy, metal objects dug into my stomach hard and drove the breath out of my lungs. Wheezing, I rolled off of it and onto the cold hardwood floor in defeat, surrendering to its cardboard superiority.

"IS THE BOX OKAY?" My dad shouted from the kitchen, not even bothering to come look for himself. Scowling, I flipped back over onto my stomach and pushed myself to my feet, rubbing my poor throbbing forehead and torso. I really hoped they weren't going to bruise.

"I'M FINE, THANKS FOR ASKING!" I shouted right back, mood in the gutter. First impression of life in this city? Craptastic. I liked it back in Tokyo. Boxes and small identical twin children weren't out to get me all the time.

A heavy rock of moodiness, nervousness, and reluctance settled in my stomach and made me feel slightly nauseous. I was…scared. A new town, a new school, and new people who may or may not be all that nice. I was short enough to be in sixth grade instead of eighth and clumsy enough to trip over perfectly level ground while holding onto a handrail. I really wasn't the kind of person to care too much about other people's opinions of me, but I'd rather make a decent impression all the same, you know? That wasn't going to happen if I kept falling flat on my face at every opportunity I got.

Maybe I was overreacting. The only thing I'd really done all day was fall over a box, right? And that box was just asking to be tripped over. Why else would it be right there at the bottom of the stairs? Confidence somewhat restored, I made my way carefully around other bizarrely place boxes and into the kitchen. Daddy was standing next to the toaster almost nervously, like he was afraid it would burst into flames again or something. It was actually a strong possibility. We'd only been in the house for about a week, but he and Ryou had already managed to nearly set the house on fire. The gigantic scorch mark above the stove was a constant reminder of how utterly incompetent the men in my family were at making anything even remotely edible. We had to get the neighbors and their teenaged daughter to come help fix everything. She'd been weird- why would anyone love a band with a name as unoriginal as the Teenage Wolves? I could smell the angst from a mile off. Rolling my eyes at both the memory and my father, I wriggled past my dad and stood protectively in front of the toaster, eyebrows raised.

"Daddy. If you wanna make toast, it usually helps if you plug in the toaster." I sighed, reaching behind me to hold up the plug that was obviously not in the wall like it should be. There was a long stretch of silence that was only broken by the sound of Daddy slapping his forehead.

"Uh...oops?" He tried sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. I just shook my head and plugged the toaster in, adjusting the temperature dial on the side so that the toast wouldn't burst into flames before it even hit the air again. "You know I'm no good with details!" I sighed again, deeper this time.

That was one hell of an understatement.

"Just…go do whatever it is you do in the mornings." My dad nodded in defeat and turned away. He was a pretty tall guy, which irked me to no end. Why couldn't I have inherited that instead of my Mom's tiny height? People still stopped me on the streets to ask where my mommy was and if I was lost! One thing I did get from my dad though was his hair color. I was glad for that, at least. I couldn't really see myself with blueish hair like my mom. I got her curse of curls, though. Ugh. Come to think of it, the only good thing I got from my Mom were my eyes. Unlike Daddy, who had sort of greenish-hazel eyes, I got my Mom's dark blue eyes. People kept mistaking them for black, but they were obviously blue. Any idiot could see that.

I loved my eyes and it pissed me off when people didn't get the color right.

The toast shot up from the toaster, scaring the crap out of me and sending me about a foot into the air. Maniacal twin laughs from the entryway did nothing to help my nerves. I turned to see my younger brothers snickering at me with glints in their eyes that did not make me feel comfortable at all. The next thing I knew, two sets of grubby hands had stolen all the toast from the toaster (that I had been standing in front of) and had started putting butter on them.

"Hey! Those were for all of us!" I protested. The twins shrugged and literally stuffed entire pieces of toast in their mouths whole. Ew. "Gross! You little brats!" I seethed, reaching for one of the two pieces of bread left of the plate. One was slightly more burnt than the other, so I bypassed that one and went for the more normal-looking piece instead. What with the way he cooked, Daddy was used to eating charcoal anyway. Not a second after I thought that, a beefy hand intercepted mine and scooped up the toast I'd had my eye set on. "Daddy!"

He just shrugged and stuffed the toast ('My toast', I thought bitterly) in his mouth, too. Men…were such pigs. Snatching my toast up with a sour expression on my face, I ate it as quickly as I could without looking like as much of a glutton as my Dad and brothers. Retaining any sort of lady-like dignity in this house was proving to be quite a chore. Trying hard to ignore the taste, I raced upstairs to brush my teeth and hopefully not throw up in the toilet form a mixture of nervousness, bad toast, and school jitters.

"Rikku! We're gonna be late!" One of the twins shouted up the stairs at me. From the slightly more annoyed tone of voice, I assumed it was Ryou. Ryuu was the calm one and Ryou was the hothead. They were both beings made of pure evil, though.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming!" I called back, looking myself over one more time. Messy but thankfully straight black bangs with a cute little clip, check. Decently organized hair, check. Incredibly flat chest, check. Ruffled skirt of evil with black shorts of salvation hidden underneath, also check. I sighed at my reflection one more time before tearing out of the bathroom and down the stairs.

"Okay, ready!" I said, grabbing my backpack and slipping my shoes on. Ryuu took this opportunity to quite violently shove me out the door. I half-stumbled, half-fell over the threshold and down a few porch steps before flailing to a stop a few feet away from the last step, somehow still on my feet.

A brief power struggle and some immature name-calling later, we had all piled into the car. I had managed to use my big-sister status to my advantage and had snagged the front seat while the twins pouted in the back.

The drive to school was almost totally silent other than the occasional mutters from one twin to the next. We had started out listening to some 70s music, but after hearing long-winded complaints from all three of his children, Daddy turned it off. I wasn't too horribly excited to go to a new school. What if I didn't make any friends? Was I doomed to be a social pariah for the whole year? When it came time to pick lab partners, would I be that one kid who had to stand at the front of class and ask if anyone else didn't have a partner? I'd had to do that once or twice. It was horrible.

Before my imagine could take me too far into the world where no one liked me and made fun of me daily, we were at the school. The twins were the first ones out, waving bye to Dad and melding into the crowd of kids like they'd been part of it all their lives. For a pair of ten-year-old kids, they were surprisingly hard to shake up. I was jealous.

"Oh, quit your sulking. It'll be fine." My dad 'reassured', grinning. His sensitivity to my plight was truly inspiring. Rolling my eyes, I stepped out of the car and looked around.

'Well, Rikku,' I thought, taking a deep breath. 'Welcome to hell'.


Well, that was the first chapter of my first fanfic on this site. What do you think? Is she too Mary-Sueish, or is it too soon to tell?

I wouldn't expect too much out of this fic- I'm really just writing this for fun. Updates may not come often, but I'll try my best~

Please review!