Azrail's Daughter

There is no way to hide, I'm not Japanese, I never really tried. Even if I had picked up a name, for them to call me by, just as much for their comfort? Yet, I had enjoyed it, the name did feel like me.

They were told to call me “Hitomi”. Maybe it is after the character in some “Animé” film I had seen? I did not say. Simply slipped in, into that first class. They knew I was to come, just not all that much about me, Why bother them with my history. I was fluent in Japanese already at the time. Chocked quite a few of them, the first week. Enjoyed it, truth to be told, even if I never told them that. If they did not know my age, maybe they could not say, till they saw my face?

Naturally, I did pick a few new sports, as I was there, felt it rude, not to. They never did complain, aside from the once, who's arses I kicked, thoroughly, that is. Guess I hurt their pride more then their bodies, though. Knowing, I kept quiet, leaving them, not knowing my joy and excitement. Knowing it was rude to make a point. Choosing a wealth of what the school had to offer.

Enjoying taking my place. Allowing for compliments, when due, giving a few, as appropriate.