At the very least her mother would lock her down. There'd be a car waiting outside school, she'd be driven everywhere. No amount of lying would keep her from being a snob. And from there she could do nothing but be seen in the worst light. Her amazing grades? She bought them. Bad grades? She must have spread her legs for all the teachers, women too, and now they were bored of the used goods. She does well in sports? Steroids. Do badly? Back to being a whore. A second hand whore.
Her friends would rally, circle the wagons but eventually they'd be picked off. Futaro would spill all their secrets and eventually make things up. Threesomes, foursomes, weird things, and anyone who defended her? Whores too, Futaro was there, he'd have seen it, Naoki too. They'd run, leave until it was just her, only to go home, where her mom waited. She'd become a zombie, the living dead until she found despair enough to put daddy's gun in her mouth and redesign the walls. Iwashiro Naya, the cautionary tale of money not buying happiness for people who could never dream to understand.
"I'm sorry Tetsu-Senpai." She said breathing slow, the reactor walls trembled and shook, cracks forming all around, hands put fingers in leaks. Bodies pressed against doors to force them shut, to hold it all together and now her pride was crumbling, still she fought to hold. "please take me to Hakase Sarutobi Senpai. I know he'll help."
Tetsu nodded and the car hummed, cool air hissing onto sweaty skin.
The good doctor was like Tetsu, hers. It was a game, in the same way war was a game. There were rules, as long as things went your way. Her game was more medieval, relying on discretion, pageantry when needed, but most vital, were favours. That led to having people. It always had some cost. Even Adam had to give a rib to get Eve. If he hadn't been so cheap, they'd still be in paradise. Naya knew how to pay, how to be there, and what got her a doctor who'd shut up.
She just hoped it would be smooth sailing, with her vulnerable in that moment.
The reactors let out a hiss that sounded like a sigh.
Deciding to look better, Naya turned to take off her top before shuffling into a black and yellow long sleeve. It'd be another cool day in the city, cold had a knack of lingering once it started. And once that ball rolled there was only adapting. Things would get worse and as icing to the cake, there was a very real possibility of snow.
It hurt her bones just thinking it.
The change of tops made a difference, the fresh, almost crisp, natural cotton brought its own energy. Enough to sit her up.
Then came her shoe, coated like she'd been making wine of corpses.
They stopped in front of a white house that was a combination of traditional Japanese with international contemporary. As if there were some invisible rule to uphold, one she could live without, but would abide to, as long as things were going her way.