by Nayt on Sun Aug 16, 2009 5:49 pm
After a few select events in her life, Eri Tetsuken had abandoned that name--that and all other pseudonyms she had gone by for so long. Now, there was no one else out there that would pursue her for her name alone. No more did she really need to lie to herself about her identity.
Mizuki Kato stepped foot out of the well placed dressed room, practically set upon boardwalk. Whoever thought up the idea of putting it there had a great idea. It was kind of a wonder that it didn't cost money to use--but then again, the lazy few that spent all their money getting here might just risk public indecency and change outside, were that the case.
Over the years, Mizuki had seen her fair share of fights, and approximately ninety percent of them had occurred at a distance from a hospital. Wounds and injuries, more often than not, had to be treated on the fly, on the field. Without healing salve, it had been all she could do sometimes to stitch up the larger cuts when she needed do--but there were also a plethora of other problems, like stray droplets of acid that had once splashed upon her during a battle with an acid spewing dragon. There were few treatments out there that could attend to such a thing . . .
In figure alone, Mizuki had a woman's ideal body. She had supple curves, modest breasts, and a toned and exercised physique--not overtly muscular, but well exercised. Mizuki had the gaze of a lover when she wanted, and the look of every man's desire when she didn't. She was a Cizokian, to boot, but not just any Cizokian: she was one of the Kato girls, women with outlandish reddish colored hair and reddish eyes--pink hair, in Mizuki's case, and pink eyes that were almost the same exact tone as her hair. Her hair, incidentally, was cut short; it had been trimmed into a chin length bob cut at some point or the other, and allowed to grow to the middle of her neck, before being evened out just a touch.
Mizuki wore for this day a green bikini; it was simple enough in design, but by the way the designs of leaves were subtly stitched upon it, it was no doubt custom made--but then again, so were all of her clothes, all made, by hand, by Mizuki herself.
Yet due to the revealing nature of the bikini, the illusion of a woman's ideal body quickly faded once she was out in the sun. Scar tissue was so prevalent upon her right shoulder, for example, that one might consider the possibility that at one point, she was without skin upon that entire shoulder. Deep scars like dashes and cuts lined her back, and a few select ones could be found upon the outside of her thighs and the backs of her hands and forearms. To top it all off, a stray few dots of blatantly discolored skin could be found upon her left shoulder, her stomach, the left side of her chest, and so on--all of which were, no doubt, scars from entry wounds.
The diminish in her image didn't bother Mizuki, though. She didn't really care. She had someone, the person she'd always wanted to be with. There was no point in trying to fool herself into being attractive for other men (and women). As far as Mizuki knew, he didn't really mind her plethora of scars, so long as she didn't have to take anymore for the rest of her life.
After walking for a moment, Mizuki caught the image of Cyril in the sand, but she could only see his back all that well, and that he was with someone else. A woman, it looked like--one that permeated an air of familiarity.
"Jeez, Seeru-kun, I leave you for just a second . . ." Mizuki mused as she approached, loud enough for the two of them to hear.