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Title: kataro
Characters: reiko takazuki, izumi suzuki (izuko kataro)
Summary: the story of how izumi became izuko; a bond of friendship that transcends fate and how two sheltered children break off their masks.
Warning: mild canon-verse spoilers
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: it's strange to think of an izuko before canon-verse so she was more difficult to write, but i just love playing around with reiko's characterization. these two are just the most adorable of friends.
Reiko doesn’t know when she and the dark-haired girl sitting beside her met, but it never really does matter. As far back as the little brunette can remember, this Izumi Suzuki, a quiet one with no smiles and sharp grey glares, has been by her side. If anything, Izumi Suzuki was a companion well worth Reiko’s time – she doesn’t talk back, she’s not mean – even if it’s just a temporary friendship, Reiko has to admit she likes the other girl’s presence and doesn’t ever bother shooing her away. It’s only fate that ties them together, that forces one to stand by the other, and throughout the course of Reiko’s mere eleven years of life, she can’t remember a single moment that stands out to her without Izumi somewhere in there as well. All her birthdays, all her accomplishments, all her times of upset – Izumi is always there. She once only used to extend a hand or utter some rare encouragement, but after Satoshi Kurata and Boriji Watanabe had broken off from their group, Izumi became rasher and her scowl deepened. Her form of caring suddenly becomes tough love, but Reiko fights through it because their bond is worth the insults and Izumi’s moments of tenderness is worth her usual sour persona.
They’ve donned the same haircut for years now – blunt bangs, long hair that’s pin straight – and Reiko’s gone through a bit of eighth-grade syndrome and so the two girls stand at the mirror, holding a blunt pair of paper-cutting scissors in hand. Izumi’s shot up in height, and so she no longer looks like the dark haired twin to her best friend, instead standing several inches taller than her, her body maturing faster than the shorter brunette who still struggles and tiptoes to look in the mirror. They’re both wearing their old uniforms, prim little sailor dresses that will be of no more use until the next year, but that was a wintertime away.
“Izu,” Reiko exclaims, grabbing a lock of that jet-black hair, something that Reiko’s always envied, “we’ll cut each other’s hair, on the count of three!” Izumi obliges and snips off a length of Reiko’s hair just as she feels her own hair fall to her feet.
“What’s the point of this anyway?” The taller girl remarks, “We’ve had this hairstyle for so long.”
“Can’t you see,” Reiko gestures wildly, “We look the same! We’re older now – we should take the liberty in defining ourselves!” The brunette haphazardly snips at her fringe, watching the straight line across her forehead become jagged and thicker. She seems happy with whatever result she has and so she turns towards Izumi, who’s already cut her new, lopsided bangs.
“Even if the front of our hairstyles are different now, there’s still the back to deal with,” Izumi tries to pull her hair up into pigtails, frowning, “let’s not cut any more off the back, but I think having it all down is kind of troublesome, don’t you think, Rei?”
Reiko copies what Izumi is doing, tying her hair into pigtails and grinning when she finds that she’s transformed – even if it was only barely – into somebody older and gloriously more triumphant. The corners of Izumi’s mouth twitch upward when she sees Reiko’s grin, but she sighs deeply as she examines her own reflection.
“I can’t change my appearance that much,” she murmurs, holding her hair up in a ponytail, “I’ve got that pianist image to hold up. Maybe I should let my hair down –” Reiko stops her, holding her hair in place and tying it up with an elastic band.
“Look Izu, that looks great on you! You’ve been hiding behind all that hair for so long but even when you tie it away, your fringe covers you, so it’s alright. Plus, who cares about that pianist image? If you change yourself, you’ll be able to become two different people! One has her hair down, the other has her hair tied, and – ” Reiko’s babbling is drowned out as Izumi watches herself in the mirror – Reiko’s right, her bangs are long enough so that she doesn’t feel exposed, but all that hair off her shoulders is a welcome lightness. It’s strange, seeing herself but not really recognizing it at first sight – even so, Izumi appreciates Reiko’s change and it’s only natural that she changes along as well.
“It’s good to let all that fame go sometimes, Izu,” Reiko’s voice snaps back into focus and they ring with a sort of truth. The two girls drop the scissors and head out to the garden, proudly freeing themselves from a curtain of uptightness that they’ve lived with for so long.
That evening, both girls are chastised for doing something so reckless.
As the sky turns into an inky blue, Izumi and Reiko spend a few more minutes sitting by the edge of the koi pond, trying to catch glimpses of their new reflections in the moonlight. Izumi still can’t forget Reiko’s remark on fame, so she finally brings it up with a quiet “I was I could be normal.”
“It must be tiring having to keep up such a façade all the time, right? What if you could really be two people – Izu, I’ve got it! You can live your life as a normal person, but still be Izumi Suzuki, the child pianist! Just like you’ve gotten a new hairstyle, we can give you a new name, right, Izu?” The grey-eyed girl shrugs, staring at her hands in whatever light is left. “Come on, it’ll be exciting! It’s like you’re an undercover superhero!” Reiko seems to be excited about this prospect, so Izumi lets her have her fun.
“We’ll start with a name – what sounds good to you, Izu? How about Satomi? Borimi, Reimi –”
“Rei, please don’t name me after people I know,” Izumi remarks.
“Let’s think of names that have to do with your personality, then! Your hair is black, so how about Kuromi? Your eyes are grey, so Haiiromi might sound good too. Your personality is icy, so –”
“Rei, please don’t tack on –mi to the end of ordinary words. Are your naming skills that poor?”
“I just want something similar to your own name, Izu!”
“But Rei, you call me ‘Izu’ all the time, so wouldn’t it be weird to just change it all of a sudden? Why don’t we keep ‘Izu’ and add something new after that?”
“You have a point,” Reiko bites her lip in thought, “Izumo…Izuka…Izuna…Izuyu…hey, Izu, this is harder than it seems to be! You don’t seem to like any of these names either.”
“They don’t really mean anything, Rei,” Izumi points out, “but hey, isn’t it strange? Your name is Reiko Takazuki, and your mother’s name is Hanako Takazuki. My mother’s name is Sayako Suzuki, so why is my name Izumi Suzuki?”
“Are you saying that your name should have been Izuko?” Reiko asks, and she mouths the name a few times, trying it out on her tongue, “I’ve never met anyone else with that name, so I guess it’s not very commonly used. It sounds like it would be a name, right? I think I can see you as an Izuko, it’s a less girly name and it fits your cynical ways.”
Izumi smiles ever so slightly, but she still furrows her brow, unsatisfied, “they’ll be sure to figure out that Izumi Suzuki and Izuko Suzuki is the same person. I’ll need a new last name too, Rei.”
“That’s easy!” Reiko exclaims, leaping up from her seat and sizing up her best friend, “we want something that’s completely not Izumi, right? So let’s melt your icy personality with fire, so we’ll use the character ka, and since you’ll need to foil your girlishness with something boyish, let’s just throw the name for boy in there, taro! So your last name is now Kataro – hey, that actually doesn’t sound too bad!”
“It’s so masculine,” Izumi murmurs, “but Izuko Kataro has a nice ring to it. But Rei, it doesn’t mean anything! There’s no meaning to the name – what will my parents think?”
“It doesn’t matter what your parents think, Izu! It’s alright if you don’t like the name, but it does sound good. Listen, and see if you can accept it – Izuko Kataro!” There’s a dark richness to the name that makes Izumi’s nerves tingle, something fluid that creeps into every living crevice of her body and transforms her – or perhaps the name itself – into something that conforms nicely. Her shoulders feel a little heavier with the weight of Izuko on them, but Izumi is satisfied nonetheless.
“Thank you, Rei. I’ll keep the name.” Izumi licks her lips, a new name spilling over her voice, “Izuko Kataro – I wonder how far I’ll get with this name.”
Izumi requests nothing but a change of name for her eleventh birthday two weeks later. Her parents surprisingly oblige, both agreeing that less fame may be better for the Suzuki name.
Izuko walks into her new homeroom, unfortunately sans Reiko this year, and introduces herself to the class as Izuko Kataro. Some students exchange looks at her unusual name, but they stand in awe at her grey gaze and icy beauty. Some have the wit to point out her resemblance to the pianist Izumi Suzuki, but Izuko just frowns and shakes her head.
A redheaded girl, whom Izuko realizes is in her homeroom, accidentally walks in on her during one of Izuko’s after school piano playing sessions. The redhead wears a sullied softball uniform and seems tired from the practice, but she doesn’t look fazed even under the cool glare from the taller girl. She identifies herself as Akira Himura but then asks the inevitable.
“Izuko – Izuko Kataro, that’s your name, right? It’s unusual, but in an interesting way. I’ve never heard of anybody else with those names – do they have a meaning?”
Izuko stops her playing and purses her lips, lying when she says, “It’s archaic, passed down through the family.” Akira seems a little disappointed at her response, so Izuko tries her hardest to make her name seem worthy, “I’m proud of it nonetheless. Izuko Kataro – I won’t be able to come up with a better name.”
Behind her back, she crosses her fingers and thanks the gods for Reiko’s genius.
Characters: reiko takazuki, izumi suzuki (izuko kataro)
Summary: the story of how izumi became izuko; a bond of friendship that transcends fate and how two sheltered children break off their masks.
Warning: mild canon-verse spoilers
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: it's strange to think of an izuko before canon-verse so she was more difficult to write, but i just love playing around with reiko's characterization. these two are just the most adorable of friends.
Reiko doesn’t know when she and the dark-haired girl sitting beside her met, but it never really does matter. As far back as the little brunette can remember, this Izumi Suzuki, a quiet one with no smiles and sharp grey glares, has been by her side. If anything, Izumi Suzuki was a companion well worth Reiko’s time – she doesn’t talk back, she’s not mean – even if it’s just a temporary friendship, Reiko has to admit she likes the other girl’s presence and doesn’t ever bother shooing her away. It’s only fate that ties them together, that forces one to stand by the other, and throughout the course of Reiko’s mere eleven years of life, she can’t remember a single moment that stands out to her without Izumi somewhere in there as well. All her birthdays, all her accomplishments, all her times of upset – Izumi is always there. She once only used to extend a hand or utter some rare encouragement, but after Satoshi Kurata and Boriji Watanabe had broken off from their group, Izumi became rasher and her scowl deepened. Her form of caring suddenly becomes tough love, but Reiko fights through it because their bond is worth the insults and Izumi’s moments of tenderness is worth her usual sour persona.
They’ve donned the same haircut for years now – blunt bangs, long hair that’s pin straight – and Reiko’s gone through a bit of eighth-grade syndrome and so the two girls stand at the mirror, holding a blunt pair of paper-cutting scissors in hand. Izumi’s shot up in height, and so she no longer looks like the dark haired twin to her best friend, instead standing several inches taller than her, her body maturing faster than the shorter brunette who still struggles and tiptoes to look in the mirror. They’re both wearing their old uniforms, prim little sailor dresses that will be of no more use until the next year, but that was a wintertime away.
“Izu,” Reiko exclaims, grabbing a lock of that jet-black hair, something that Reiko’s always envied, “we’ll cut each other’s hair, on the count of three!” Izumi obliges and snips off a length of Reiko’s hair just as she feels her own hair fall to her feet.
“What’s the point of this anyway?” The taller girl remarks, “We’ve had this hairstyle for so long.”
“Can’t you see,” Reiko gestures wildly, “We look the same! We’re older now – we should take the liberty in defining ourselves!” The brunette haphazardly snips at her fringe, watching the straight line across her forehead become jagged and thicker. She seems happy with whatever result she has and so she turns towards Izumi, who’s already cut her new, lopsided bangs.
“Even if the front of our hairstyles are different now, there’s still the back to deal with,” Izumi tries to pull her hair up into pigtails, frowning, “let’s not cut any more off the back, but I think having it all down is kind of troublesome, don’t you think, Rei?”
Reiko copies what Izumi is doing, tying her hair into pigtails and grinning when she finds that she’s transformed – even if it was only barely – into somebody older and gloriously more triumphant. The corners of Izumi’s mouth twitch upward when she sees Reiko’s grin, but she sighs deeply as she examines her own reflection.
“I can’t change my appearance that much,” she murmurs, holding her hair up in a ponytail, “I’ve got that pianist image to hold up. Maybe I should let my hair down –” Reiko stops her, holding her hair in place and tying it up with an elastic band.
“Look Izu, that looks great on you! You’ve been hiding behind all that hair for so long but even when you tie it away, your fringe covers you, so it’s alright. Plus, who cares about that pianist image? If you change yourself, you’ll be able to become two different people! One has her hair down, the other has her hair tied, and – ” Reiko’s babbling is drowned out as Izumi watches herself in the mirror – Reiko’s right, her bangs are long enough so that she doesn’t feel exposed, but all that hair off her shoulders is a welcome lightness. It’s strange, seeing herself but not really recognizing it at first sight – even so, Izumi appreciates Reiko’s change and it’s only natural that she changes along as well.
“It’s good to let all that fame go sometimes, Izu,” Reiko’s voice snaps back into focus and they ring with a sort of truth. The two girls drop the scissors and head out to the garden, proudly freeing themselves from a curtain of uptightness that they’ve lived with for so long.
That evening, both girls are chastised for doing something so reckless.
As the sky turns into an inky blue, Izumi and Reiko spend a few more minutes sitting by the edge of the koi pond, trying to catch glimpses of their new reflections in the moonlight. Izumi still can’t forget Reiko’s remark on fame, so she finally brings it up with a quiet “I was I could be normal.”
“It must be tiring having to keep up such a façade all the time, right? What if you could really be two people – Izu, I’ve got it! You can live your life as a normal person, but still be Izumi Suzuki, the child pianist! Just like you’ve gotten a new hairstyle, we can give you a new name, right, Izu?” The grey-eyed girl shrugs, staring at her hands in whatever light is left. “Come on, it’ll be exciting! It’s like you’re an undercover superhero!” Reiko seems to be excited about this prospect, so Izumi lets her have her fun.
“We’ll start with a name – what sounds good to you, Izu? How about Satomi? Borimi, Reimi –”
“Rei, please don’t name me after people I know,” Izumi remarks.
“Let’s think of names that have to do with your personality, then! Your hair is black, so how about Kuromi? Your eyes are grey, so Haiiromi might sound good too. Your personality is icy, so –”
“Rei, please don’t tack on –mi to the end of ordinary words. Are your naming skills that poor?”
“I just want something similar to your own name, Izu!”
“But Rei, you call me ‘Izu’ all the time, so wouldn’t it be weird to just change it all of a sudden? Why don’t we keep ‘Izu’ and add something new after that?”
“You have a point,” Reiko bites her lip in thought, “Izumo…Izuka…Izuna…Izuyu…hey, Izu, this is harder than it seems to be! You don’t seem to like any of these names either.”
“They don’t really mean anything, Rei,” Izumi points out, “but hey, isn’t it strange? Your name is Reiko Takazuki, and your mother’s name is Hanako Takazuki. My mother’s name is Sayako Suzuki, so why is my name Izumi Suzuki?”
“Are you saying that your name should have been Izuko?” Reiko asks, and she mouths the name a few times, trying it out on her tongue, “I’ve never met anyone else with that name, so I guess it’s not very commonly used. It sounds like it would be a name, right? I think I can see you as an Izuko, it’s a less girly name and it fits your cynical ways.”
Izumi smiles ever so slightly, but she still furrows her brow, unsatisfied, “they’ll be sure to figure out that Izumi Suzuki and Izuko Suzuki is the same person. I’ll need a new last name too, Rei.”
“That’s easy!” Reiko exclaims, leaping up from her seat and sizing up her best friend, “we want something that’s completely not Izumi, right? So let’s melt your icy personality with fire, so we’ll use the character ka, and since you’ll need to foil your girlishness with something boyish, let’s just throw the name for boy in there, taro! So your last name is now Kataro – hey, that actually doesn’t sound too bad!”
“It’s so masculine,” Izumi murmurs, “but Izuko Kataro has a nice ring to it. But Rei, it doesn’t mean anything! There’s no meaning to the name – what will my parents think?”
“It doesn’t matter what your parents think, Izu! It’s alright if you don’t like the name, but it does sound good. Listen, and see if you can accept it – Izuko Kataro!” There’s a dark richness to the name that makes Izumi’s nerves tingle, something fluid that creeps into every living crevice of her body and transforms her – or perhaps the name itself – into something that conforms nicely. Her shoulders feel a little heavier with the weight of Izuko on them, but Izumi is satisfied nonetheless.
“Thank you, Rei. I’ll keep the name.” Izumi licks her lips, a new name spilling over her voice, “Izuko Kataro – I wonder how far I’ll get with this name.”
Izumi requests nothing but a change of name for her eleventh birthday two weeks later. Her parents surprisingly oblige, both agreeing that less fame may be better for the Suzuki name.
Izuko walks into her new homeroom, unfortunately sans Reiko this year, and introduces herself to the class as Izuko Kataro. Some students exchange looks at her unusual name, but they stand in awe at her grey gaze and icy beauty. Some have the wit to point out her resemblance to the pianist Izumi Suzuki, but Izuko just frowns and shakes her head.
A redheaded girl, whom Izuko realizes is in her homeroom, accidentally walks in on her during one of Izuko’s after school piano playing sessions. The redhead wears a sullied softball uniform and seems tired from the practice, but she doesn’t look fazed even under the cool glare from the taller girl. She identifies herself as Akira Himura but then asks the inevitable.
“Izuko – Izuko Kataro, that’s your name, right? It’s unusual, but in an interesting way. I’ve never heard of anybody else with those names – do they have a meaning?”
Izuko stops her playing and purses her lips, lying when she says, “It’s archaic, passed down through the family.” Akira seems a little disappointed at her response, so Izuko tries her hardest to make her name seem worthy, “I’m proud of it nonetheless. Izuko Kataro – I won’t be able to come up with a better name.”
Behind her back, she crosses her fingers and thanks the gods for Reiko’s genius.
Current Music: you exist in my song | wanting
Current Mood: lethargic
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