<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7587943600786400598</id><updated>2009-10-02T01:15:20.959+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rip and Burn</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rip-burn.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7587943600786400598/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rip-burn.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mad Sari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16311432231700579678</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>3</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7587943600786400598.post-1997797700642652017</id><published>2008-04-18T14:08:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-18T14:12:22.107+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Skyscrapers of Seisen</title><content type='html'>I’ve been in this school for about a year now but it only took me the first five minutes to know who Akira Kaede is.&lt;br /&gt;                I was waiting for a short briefing with the school director before I could officially begin as a student in this school, when I saw him barge in the director’s office without any greeting or notice. I still didn’t know who he was then. When he finally came out of the office, I eyed him and for a moment, our eyes met. It took me by surprise. His eyes were deep blue like the ocean but it wasn’t that which caught my attention—it was the look he gave me. He gave a new meaning to the phrase, “if looks could kill”. At that moment I knew he is not one to be messed with.&lt;br /&gt;                I was still in a daze when the secretary finally ushered me inside the office.&lt;br /&gt;                “I’m sorry for keeping you waiting. Director Fujiwara will see you now.” She gave me a toothy grin.&lt;br /&gt;                Director Fujiwara, like most school administrators, exudes an air of unquestionable authority and fatherly demeanor. He welcomed me to the school and proceeded with the briefing right after. He didn’t have to say much as the school’s name speaks for itself. It’s one of the best secondary schools in the country, if not, the world and as my mom told me, I’m so lucky to be here.&lt;br /&gt;                “I think that’s about it. Just consult the handbook or visit the Students’ Affair Office if you have any questions.” He stood up and was about to send me off to class but I stayed seated. I have to ask him about that guy. All I could think about while sitting inside the office was that look and those eyes. He intrigued me.&lt;br /&gt;                “Sir, uhm, Director Fujiwara, I have a question.” I finally said.&lt;br /&gt;                “Nani? I’m sorry. What is it?” He asked smiling.&lt;br /&gt;                I smiled back thinking about how silly my question is.&lt;br /&gt;                “That guy who came to your office before me, the one with the blue contacts? May I know who he is?” I said shyly.&lt;br /&gt;                “Oh.” He answered while shifting in his chair uncomfortably. “I should’ve known that was coming. He makes quite an impression as always.” He said shaking his head. Instead of sitting down, he walked to the window and looked outside.&lt;br /&gt;                “Since you’re going to study here starting now, I might as well introduce him. Come here.” He continued.&lt;br /&gt;                I joined him at the window and took a peek. The blue-eyed devil was sitting beneath a tree with a brawny-looking guy and a very pretty girl.&lt;br /&gt;                “They are the Skyscrapers—Seisen’s resident elite. The guy you saw here earlier is Kaede Akira. And no, the blue eyes are not contact lenses. He was born with those eyes.” Director Fujiwara explained.&lt;br /&gt;                “Like Sayuri?” I inquired interested.&lt;br /&gt;                “Yes, with more action and less drama.” He said matter-of-factly.&lt;br /&gt;                Director Fujiwara gave me a rundown on the infamous Skyscrapers of Seisen. When he finished, I realized I got more than what I bargained for. After I left his office, I felt like a flood just washed over me. I never thought high school in Japan would be so much like the gakuen dramas I used to watch back in the Philippines. I felt like I’m living a rerun of Hana Yori Dango and Akira Kaede is Domyouji Tsukasa from hell.&lt;br /&gt;                “You have been warned.” Director Fujiwara said nonchalantly to me before I left his office.&lt;br /&gt;                Akira Kaede, I learned from the director, is the only son of internationally acclaimed actress Akira Minako. He was born rich. He was born famous. And he has an ego to go with all of it. Many girls go crazy over him. He is, after all, very good looking with his jet black hair and those piercing deep blue eyes. Apparently, many speculate that his dad is Caucasian with the same blue eyes but Mrs. Akira never blew her whistle. The mystery over his paternity didn’t hurt. Instead, it just added to his charm. Although Director Fujiwara didn’t admit it, the Skyscrapers were clearly Seisen Royalty. They are free to do as they please and he can’t do anything about it. I’ll try my best to stay away from the Skyscrapers in my stay here but I learned soon enough how hard it is to avoid them.&lt;br /&gt;                When I got to my class, I noticed her right away. It’s easy to recognize her classy luxury brand headband—her trademark ever since her first day at Seisen according to the director. As luck would have it, I am going to spend the next two years in the same class as Mori Sakura, the only girl in the Skyscrapers and Seisen’s resident Queen Bee. Cliques and High School—a match made for keeps.&lt;br /&gt;                Mori Sakura is the sole heir to the Mori fortune—businesses that range from oil to real estate. She’s her daddy’s girl through and through.&lt;br /&gt;                I introduced myself to the class and the homeroom teacher told me to take the vacant seat. The only vacant seat I saw was the one beside Sakura which currently holds her Coach bag among others.&lt;br /&gt;                “Excuse me.” She said while taking her things of the desk.&lt;br /&gt;                “Arigato…” I didn’t know how to call her.&lt;br /&gt;                “Cherry.” She finished my sentence for me.&lt;br /&gt;                I nodded back. So far, so good.&lt;br /&gt;                My grandmother would be disgraced if she sees me fidgeting and worrying over a bunch of teenage Japanese socialites. I shouldn’t be like this. Think World War II, Sari, she would say.&lt;br /&gt;                The first week of school went well enough. I learned more about the Skyscrapers. It turns out the warning the director gave me was real. Michiko, my first friend in the school told me that there’s nothing big going on now because most of the students were smart enough not to cross any of the Skyscrapers and all those who came against them already dropped out of the school. Talk about harsh and drastic.&lt;br /&gt;                The second week of school marks Club Week where all the clubs in Seisen recruit new members. Michiko is part of the soccer team much to my delight. I was in the soccer varsity back in the Philippines and I’m looking forward to joining the team since soccer is more prolific here than it is there. It was then that I met the last member of the most infamous and private club in the school, the Skyscrapers.&lt;br /&gt;                 We, the new recruits were all getting ready for try-outs. Old team members were the ones heading it. All clubs in Seisen are autonomous and are given free rein. I was more excited than nervous so when it was finally my turn, I was ready.&lt;br /&gt;                “Position?” The senpai asked.&lt;br /&gt;                “Goalkeeper.” I said.&lt;br /&gt;                “Good. We don’t have a goalkeeper this term. How good are you?” She asked.&lt;br /&gt;                “Aren’t we here to test that?” was my cocky reply.&lt;br /&gt;                “Right.” She said. “Hey, Blue, I got you a goalkeeper.” She called out.&lt;br /&gt;                A lot of them hooted and cheered. I got confused and I didn’t know what that was about. If something bad happens, it won’t be the first time my big mouth got me in trouble.&lt;br /&gt;                The guy called Blue came and my jaw dropped. It was brawny guy—the other male Skyscraper. He came towards me and said, “You’re it?”&lt;br /&gt;                I tried to compose myself. “Yes.” I answered steadily.&lt;br /&gt;                “Let’s play.” He moved towards the goal. “Just tell me when you’re ready.”&lt;br /&gt;                I tried hard not the gulp. I went to the goal and made myself snap out of it and focus. “You’re good at this, Sari. You’re a very good goalie. Think of the game and not the player.” I tell myself. I took a deep breath and faced him. “I’m ready.”&lt;br /&gt;                The try-out was a blur. It began horribly having missed the first three balls but he was just warming me up. After ball three, I knew he was going for the real deal and I was ready for it. Needless to say, I nailed it and made the team.&lt;br /&gt;                Blue approached me after the try-out and messed my hair. “You’re good.” He smiled.&lt;br /&gt;                I smiled back. He’s a cool guy and after playing with him, it’s odd to think that he’s part of the Skyscrapers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(to be continued...)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7587943600786400598-1997797700642652017?l=rip-burn.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rip-burn.blogspot.com/feeds/1997797700642652017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7587943600786400598&amp;postID=1997797700642652017' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7587943600786400598/posts/default/1997797700642652017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7587943600786400598/posts/default/1997797700642652017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rip-burn.blogspot.com/2008/04/skyscrapers-of-seisen.html' title='The Skyscrapers of Seisen'/><author><name>Mad Sari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16311432231700579678</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11271707967953307162'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7587943600786400598.post-960796101322417460</id><published>2008-04-18T14:00:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-18T14:03:07.866+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chapter 1'/><title type='text'>A Bloody Beginning</title><content type='html'>We just came from a practice game against the boys’ soccer team. I am beyond exhaustion but it was going to be worth it. At least, I think so. After all, I suggested the damn thing. The girls and I were washing up in the comfort room when we heard someone moaning behind a cubicle. A few of the girls shrieked. I stepped in, miffed by their silliness.&lt;br /&gt;“Hello? Is anybody there?” I knocked and tried to open the door but it was locked. Another moan came from inside.&lt;br /&gt;“Daijobu desu ka?” I continued.&lt;br /&gt;No one answered but I was pretty sure somebody was in there.&lt;br /&gt;“I don’t think anyone is inside.” Erika, a gullible freshman hushed. “It’s probably Naoko-sama.”&lt;br /&gt;“Nonsense!” I said. I hesitated for a second but considering this could all be nothing I prepared to do the practical thing.&lt;br /&gt;“I’m going in.” I said to no one in particular.&lt;br /&gt;“What are you going to do, Sari?” Michiko, my vice-captain asked.&lt;br /&gt;“What else are soccer players good at?” I gave her a smirk.&lt;br /&gt;I kicked the door of the cubicle. The girls screamed.&lt;br /&gt;I really didn’t know what to expect but what we saw inside was the last thing anyone would’ve expected inside a cubicle of a girls’ bathroom. No, it wasn’t Naoko-sama, Moaning Myrtle or some other spirit the upperclassmen scare new students into believing haunting the toilets.&lt;br /&gt;It was a boy—a boy who looked like he just stepped out of a horror movie as he was soaking in his blood. He was obviously hurt. He probably got away and went inside the toilet for sanctuary.&lt;br /&gt;“Is he okay?” Erika whispered.&lt;br /&gt;I glared at her. I can’t believe I have a dud in my team.&lt;br /&gt;“He obviously isn’t, so go and get help now.” I ordered.&lt;br /&gt;After they went and got help, Michiko and I helped him to get to the infirmary. We didn’t know how to move him at first. Considering how he looked, he’s probably hurt all over.&lt;br /&gt;“Hey, uh, guy.” I touched his arm lightly. “We’re going to get you to the school doctor, okay?”&lt;br /&gt;He replied with a moan.&lt;br /&gt;“I guess that means ‘Okay.’” Michiko jested.&lt;br /&gt;I jerked my head, motioning her to the other side.&lt;br /&gt;When Dr. Sato finally attended to the blood-drenched guy, we left for our lockers. It was nice to do a good deed but he’s not the only one who’s aching all over. As I was cleaning up my locker, I overheard my team mates discussing about what just happened.&lt;br /&gt;“I haven’t seen him before. Do you know him, Michiko?” one of my team mates asked.&lt;br /&gt;“Nurse Nita said he’s Andrew Thomas, a transfer student from London.” Michiko explained.&lt;br /&gt;“Skyscraper?” she said in a whisper.&lt;br /&gt;“I really wouldn’t be surprised. He’s in Akira’s class.” Michiko answered.&lt;br /&gt;“What do you think, Sari?” She noticed I was listening in.&lt;br /&gt;I shrugged. King Skyscraper was at it again. What else is new in this school?&lt;br /&gt;“I’m curious though…” I began. The whole team was listening in now. “What did that Andrew Thomas do to him to make him do that? They left him bleeding to death. It’s too much, don’t you think?”&lt;br /&gt;My team mates and I just shared knowing and thoughtful looks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7587943600786400598-960796101322417460?l=rip-burn.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rip-burn.blogspot.com/feeds/960796101322417460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7587943600786400598&amp;postID=960796101322417460' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7587943600786400598/posts/default/960796101322417460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7587943600786400598/posts/default/960796101322417460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rip-burn.blogspot.com/2008/04/bloody-beginning.html' title='A Bloody Beginning'/><author><name>Mad Sari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16311432231700579678</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11271707967953307162'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7587943600786400598.post-5899753512063173678</id><published>2008-04-18T13:14:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-18T13:43:19.923+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Let It Rip</title><content type='html'>&lt;/ br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Reader,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This blog is a novel in progress written and presented in several stories. The posts/stories might be revised at any point by yours truly.&lt;/ br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I have always wanted to write and not until a few months ago, I considered doing it in a blog.&lt;/ br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Comments are welcome. Rest assured that I'll take them into consideration in the improvement of the stories. Your help will be duly acknowledged in this blog.&lt;/ br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I hope you will enjoy reading the stories as I have writing them.&lt;/ br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Thank you for dropping by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Author&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7587943600786400598-5899753512063173678?l=rip-burn.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rip-burn.blogspot.com/feeds/5899753512063173678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7587943600786400598&amp;postID=5899753512063173678' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7587943600786400598/posts/default/5899753512063173678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7587943600786400598/posts/default/5899753512063173678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rip-burn.blogspot.com/2008/04/let-it-rip.html' title='Let It Rip'/><author><name>Mad Sari</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16311432231700579678</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11271707967953307162'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry></feed>