Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Soliloquies ❯ The menace of being a redhead in an all black-haired country ( Chapter 4 )

The menace of being a red head in an all-black haired country

You have no idea how many stares I get every single fucking day of my miserable existence. When I was younger, I thought it was because I had this perpetual dirt on my face that makes everyone turn around or stare at my face, unabashedly. Then later on, I realized that they were staring at my head as much as they do with my face. So, being the (ironically) naïve kid that I was, I began thinking I had something on my hair as well. So I began forming this fixation and later obsession (bordering on unhealthy, if one would take a word from that jerk wad Kudou) on cleanliness. Yes, I admit, that that is such a simplistic explanation of things. I was a child of course, I had no idea they stared at me because of my red hair and purple eyes. Now, this wouldn't have been much to stare at if I had been living in Ireland or America or whatever. Unfortunately for me and my weird-ass genes, I'm living in Japan, and what's worse, I have an unmistakably Japanese family and lineage. Do you have any idea how out-of-place I look in a family reunion? There they stand with their black or violet-black hairs, simple black or brown eyes, and there I stand near the wall trying to look as inconspicuous I can with these cursed features that I have.

I tried asking my parents about it, but they'll give me lame excuses such as, "Oh, there's nothing different with you son, you're just too handsome for your own good that's why they stare" or they'll make up this imaginary "Grandfather" that for some time I believed in, like I did with water-demons and the devil in the mirror, who miraculously had the very same features I have. Pretty soon they just plain avoided my questions, and pretty soon I formed an answer of my own, and stopped asking them anything anymore. I was adopted, simple as that.

The first few years of my adolescence, when I fully understood what being an adopted child is, I tried, fruitlessly, to search for my real parents. I couldn't really tell anyone about it, so I ended up looking for them on my own, walking the city by myself, and letting opportunities to foster friendships with peers go to waste. I had a younger sister, who looked in every way like my (adopted) mom, unmistakably NOT an adopted child, and as much as I wanted to hate her for being the real kid not like me, I couldn't. She was such a nice kid; I couldn't bear to hate her. A mild dislike maybe, but not full-blooded hatred. They always did like her better, loved and cared for her better than they did me. But who can blame them? I was such a weird child, so prone to gossip, taunts and bad jokes because of my features, and my silent attitude (that rooted from such environment, I mean, what could I possibly reply, in that age, to a taunt that I'm a child of a devil or a bastard?) did not help much.

What was my point for sharing this little information about me? One, to establish the point that I'm not an introvert just because I thought it was cool, but it is rooted in a childhood experience and the haunting fact that reminds me every time I see myself, that I, the person called Ran Fujimiya, is certainly alone and unloved.

And the second point? It's that I HATE being stared at, unabashedly, not only by random people, but especially by a certain co-worker of the name Yohji Kudou.

He stares at me as if I don't notice, as if I'm not the only one with such un-Japanese features. Now, not only do I have to be intensely guarded and paranoid outside in the world, I also have to be equally guarded and paranoid inside the house, minding my every move and word, careful not to be the butt of any of Kudou's jokes or objects of his sick… whatever you call it. It wasn't this bad at first, those first years I'm with them. He would watch me when he's trying to rile me, or trying to annoy me or trying to find facts about me to turn into jokes. But lately, this month, he watches me with such a solemn, somber look, as if he was reading a highly interesting and moving book (which he would never do, I can bet my katana on that).

I usually don't let it get on my nerves, but this time round, it's… really getting on my nerves. I never did understood Kudou.