BTW: *asd* = anime sweat drop *asf* = anime style fall "\*text*/" = translated from Japanese _
Prologue Awakenings part 1: Mitsozuka Ayarashi
The sun was slowly rising. The air was chilled, but it was a beautiful autumn morning. The sun was just barely peeking itself over the oceanic horizon, as Mitsozuka's alarm went off. He groggily slapped the snooze button, and sat up. He rubbed his eyes with his paws, and looked at the clock... then picked up his glasses and read it properly. 6:30. 'Oy vey,' he thought, 'I could have picked a better day to quit partying the night before on.' He got up lazily, and looked around his room. Ever since he passed junior year last year, his parents finally moved the two younger children, brother and sister to him, into the bunk beds he and his brother used to share. His sister's baby room was redecorated, under painstaking direction from himself, to Mitsozuka's liking. His music posters, Game charts, and 30" flat screen TV and game systems were all in order, as he had left them last. He bent over backwards, touching his bed, listening to his body snapping and popping, before his back finally popped, sending a shudder up his spine. He stood up again, and looked at the clock. 6:35. Time to hop in the shower. He yanked off his white muscle shirt, and walked into the bathroom. He looked himself over in his half body mirror. He looked like he felt, which was like hell warmed over. His mane looked like he stuck it in a lawnmower, and the rest of his fur lacked its usual luster. His ears twitched for no apparent reason, and he turned on the shower. As Mitsozuka showered, he went over his stats in his mind. Name: Mitsozuka Ayarashi, Age: 18, Height: 6'3", Weight: 295, Official Wins: 48, Official Losses: 0, Unofficial Wins: 150, Unofficial Losses: ... he always paused here... this was the only stat that bothered him. One, which was always what he said. He didn't like to admit that his streetfighting record wasn't perfect, but it wasn't. He finished, stepped out, and wrapped a towel around his waist. Ever since puberty had set in, and his "unique" attributes manifested, he had been growing steadily larger until last semester, when he apparently peaked. He flashed his killer smile, flexed his biceps and growled, and went to get dressed. He emerged a moment later, wearing blue jeans, no shoes and holding his favorite t- shirt, dragon pattern hoodie, and white tank top undershirt. He put on his undershirt, pulled his Tee on over it, and then tied his hoodie around his waist. He glanced at the clock, 7:15, and grabbed his backpack, before trotting downstairs. His mom was obviously already making breakfast, as the smell was wafting throughout the house. He entered the kitchen to the usual scene. His mother, as always, was grumbling over the stove, cooking away at the morning meal. Being a Japanese mother, having to feed an American adult male, and an above average mix of American and Japanese teenager as well as the added hunger of his Tiger side. The average morning meal consisted of an Enormous pot of rice, a few dozen eggs, and a lot of fruit juice. Today must have meant something to his Madre, as he was known to call her, because she had made a LOT more. Today, there were eggs, Belgian waffles, 8 or 10 stacks of about 20 pancakes, sausage, rice, lo mein noodles, and Mitsozuka's favorite, sticky rice! He kissed his mother on the cheek.
"Ohayoo, Madre. How are you?"
Annoyed, as usual, but happy. "\Good morning, son. Please eat. You will have to walk to school today, I hope that is okay./"
"Hai. Arrigato, and ittedakimasu."
He sat down, across from his dad, as usual, and started piling his plate up. It was almost sad, really. When Mitsozuka overtook his father in the shoulders, height, weight and strength, his dad kind of lost interest in his son's life. He began to focus on the younger two, but he didn't talk much to either of them, except when it was important, as all they wanted to talk about was Mitsozuka, or his fights. However, Mitsozuka could care only slightly less what his dad thought, as he was used to it by now. Ever since Mitsozuka joined the high school Zanzuken fight club, he was damned near untouchable. His dad never even really noticed when Mitsozuka came in bruised, battered, broken limbs, or bleeding anymore, he would just point to where the first aid kit was located, and announce what they had for dinner and whether or not there was much of anything left. Mitsozuka usually had some, even though he really wasn't hungry. The street fights cost was usually enough that the winner's group would go out to eat, and even have enough for about 4 or 5 people. The street fights were not only Mitsozuka's main source of income, but were also where he learned how to fight so well. He perfected most of his techniques through usage in the street fight arena, and was famous for fighting for the just cause, and standing up for people who were being treated unfairly. He was still sitting at the table at 7:23 when he began wondering when his cheering section was arriving. As if on cue, in strolled a 4 year old in, of all things, a tiger suit. She came in and sat to breakfast. Soon after, in strolled Mitsozuka's kid brother, who doubled as his biggest fan, sat at his usual place, and greeted his idol in the usual nonchalant way he did.
"AYO CHAMP! How is the greatest fighter in the universe today?"
Mitsozuka was expecting this, so was ready with a quick reply. "Knock it off, squirt, I have a headache." He mussed up his hair, just to show he was kidding, and finished stuffing his face. He picked up his stuff, said a quick goodbye to everyone, and headed for his first day as a senior. _
Sorry it is so short, but I have more coming. Please Review, as it makes things want to go faster. Next chapter, Charlie! Time to go, need breakfast. Much love to the readers, laterz!