Moving Day [Private]

The room was musty. It hadn’t been opened in some time, at least that’s what the landlady told her as she turned the key in the lock. The last occupant had died during the last Blood Games. Azami didn’t know what those were, so she just smiled and thanked her new landlady as the key was handed to her.

“I haven’t had it opened since he passed. All his things are still inside. Whatever you don’t want, feel free to get rid of.”, she finished before walking off, leaving Azami in front of the open door. Before her remained the remnants of a teenage boy’s domicile. Dirty socks were flung in the corner. Crusty dishes slowly molded over in the sink. It was unacceptable, unthinkable, unlivable.

Azami stepped inside, looking down at the floor with a grimace before gingerly setting her bag down as though if she set it down with the utmost care it might not become infected with whatever was growing inside. She set out to find the cleaning supplies, pulling open a closet door to be greeted by a pile of dirty laundry tumbling out onto her feet. Her eyebrow began to twitch as she struggled to control her outrage.

“Why!?”, she at last squealed as she kicked the offending undershorts back into the closet, shaking her leg to rid herself of the perceived feeling of ick that had transferred over to her leg.

“Gross, gross, gross…”, Azami grumbled as she went for her trusty pair of gloves that were neatly tucked away in one of the pouches on her belt. She slipped her hand inside after unsnapping the button, fishing around until she pulled them free. She pulled them on, one after the other, a hand held upward as she declared to the heavens, “All right apartment. Prepare yourself for the cleanest you are going to have been ever!”
After that Azami was like a whirlwind of scary cleaning woman. Clothes went into trash bags, heaps of the black plastic bags flying out an open window to land curbside, much to the surprise of festival goers out in the street.

“Hey, watch it! We’re walking here!”, came the challenge from outside the apartment window. A man with frizzy hair and a red face stood defiantly in front of his group of friends, Azami appearing in the window a moment later, her hair having been pulled back with a blue and white plaid bandanna holding it in place.

“You watch yourself… Mister!”, she blurted back at him, quickly spinning back around, flashing the red and white fan symbol of the Uchiha on the back of her blue jacket to the street before she disappeared back inside, sounds of clattering and well-mannered curses flowing out in her wake. Outside, the man muttered something about crazy broads, his gaggle of friends laughing nervously as the continued on down the street towards the festivities.

Inside, Azami was battling with the dishes. First, they had to be collected from where they lay, which was often not even close to the sink. Once she had them all gathered up she proceeded to fill the sink with scalding hot water and soap, switching her own gloves out for a pair of yellow plastic dish gloves that extended upwards nearly to her elbow. She pulled each into place with a snap, plunging her hands down into the sudsy water.

Scrub, wash, rinse, dry, repeat. One after the other the clean dishes began to pile up in the strainer, light gleaming off the freshly scrubbed porcelain. Azami took a moment to admire her work, nodding with determination before moving toward the fridge. She tugged open the door, the stench of spoiled milk and rotten eggs spilling forth to assault her nostrils. In a moment of weakness, she gagged, retching as she fell back from the fridge toward the open window. She backed herself to the windowsill, the Uchiha fan once again appearing in the sill on the back of her jacket.

“Oh… You haven’t see the last of me… Get yourself ready Azami, you’re going in.”, she said to herself, reaching up to undo the bandanna in her hair with a flourish. Her unbound hair fell free in waves, gently blowing in the wind as she folded the plaid cloth into a triangle before tying it over her nose and mouth, bandit style.

“Here I go!”, she shouted, as much to pump herself up for the coming challenge as anything else. She pushed off the window sill, stomping back over to the still open fridge full of rotten food. Along the way she snatched up another of the black plastic trash bags, snapping it open. She began to sweep the contents of the fridge inside, only the stench keeping her from commenting on the choice of foods inside. Seriously, did a person live here or a goat!?

She hauled the stinking bags to the window, the plastic being unable to contain the reek of rotten food within.

“Clear the way!”, she shouted towards the open window and the street below as she began to wind up, doing half a spin with the bag clutched in both hands before releasing it, slinging the garbage bag through the air, arcing down to the pile of other bags at the curb. The bag landed with great force, splitting open atop the others to release its pungent reek of rotten food. Shrieks, gagging, and coughing accompanied the split bag as people in the street scattered, covering their mouths and noses.

“Oh my god… what is that smell!? It’s like… oh man... sick”, one passerby commented as they skirted around the mess, giving it a wide berth. Another retched as they staggered back in the direction they came. Soon, no one walked down the side of the street any more, the people on the opposite side hurrying to get past the miasma.

Back upstairs in the apartment, Azami slouched down in a chair, glaring across the kitchen table at the fridge as it stood open. Lingering scents remained behind, assailing her nose as they wafted from the open doors. They whole thing would have to be disinfected. Cleaned from top to bottom, stem to stern. This she knew without even having to open the freezer. What frost burned hell waited for her inside, she could only speculate. Probably some kind of gross frozen convenience food that was well past it’s due date.

She gathered her weapons for the war to come: Bleach, water, sponge, bucket, brush. She approached the growing cold box with it’s dingy light, dunking the brush into the hot water and bleach solution.

“This is for your own good!”, she professed before taking the last two steps in a lunge. She began scrubbing at the inside as if trying to exterminate it, roughly scrubbing in circles over every nook and cranny. Fuzzy mold broke away, getting washed out and disinfected as she worked her way inside while on hands and knees on the kitchen floor.

The smell of bleach began to slowly cover over and smother the scent of rot. Each pass returned the inside of the fridge from bluish green to white. Half an hour later, she sat back on her heels on the linoleum tile floor as she looked at the inside of the now spick and span fridge.

“Yeah… that’s right…”, she said between huffing for breath. “I win. You lose. Game… Oh. My. GOD!”, she screamed as she scrambled to regain her feet, realizing that she was sitting on the floor. The sticky, grime encrusted, floor. A shriek split the building as she scrambled away from the kitchen, as if getting away from the floor would clean her pants. Outside, more people evacuated the street, not wanting to get involved with whatever murder appeared to be taking place inside.

“Ew, ew, ew…”, Azami mewled, realizing that now she too was going to need a scrubbing before this all was over. Off came the pants, being thrown into a hamper that she had cleared out earlier. She approached the closet once more with intent. Pulling it open, she reached inside and pulled out a mop, wielding it with two hands as if it were a sword that could slice through the grime and hack through the sticky substance that coated the floor. She stepped back towards the kitchen, thrusting the mop head into the bucket of hot water and bleach.

Wordlessly, she slapped the wet mop head onto the floor with a wet smacking sound. What followed was scrubbing and a ton of elbow grease. Two water changes later, the floor gleamed back at her and the entire kitchen smelled of pine and lemon. A smile began to spread across her lips as she wrung out the mop over the sink. Victory had never tasted so sweet. Now all she had to do was shower and scrub herself clean, then she could finally get onto laundering and refitting the sheets and blankets for tonight.

She skipped on her way into the bathroom, feeling the end in sight. Then she rounded the corner and saw the bathroom. Even from a distance she could tell that it would be the kitchen all over again. Every glass surface was coated in hard scale water spots, a ring of grime encrusted every bowl and tub, and the floor was as bad as the kitchen, but also splattered with pee.

“Boys are so gross!”, she cried out with a stamp of her foot, a petulant pout forming on her lips as she turned back to get her bucket and mop.

An hour later she emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel. Her dark hair was combed back, the last few drips of water rolling down her locks and onto her shoulders and back as she made her way back to her bag at the entrance to the apartment. She kneeled, digging inside for a spare set of clothes. Getting everything she needed, she returned to the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind her as she retreated to get dressed once again.

When the door opened once again, her hair was dry and Azami was clothed once more. Her dark hair was smooth and straight, parted at the side with a bandanna once again used to tie it back. She wore a mid-thigh length black skirt over a pair of dark leggings with a similarly dark t-shirt separated by a blue belt. As she stepped out she pulled the blue jacket on once more.

Her next stop was the laundry room, Azami lugging the over full laundry hamper with her outside and down a flight of stairs to the laundry room. She hauled the hamper up the couple of steps, struggling with it and the door underneath a flickering lamp outside. After a few moments of fumbling she managed to get the door open, hauling herself inside the room with it’s machines looming like monsters in the dark. She felt out the switch, flicking it on to reveal the dingy room.

She opened the washing machine, dumping her load of lights inside before adding detergent and bleach. She loaded the push mechanism up with coins, ramming it home before shutting the lid, the machine beginning to fill with hot water as she moved onto the next. In it went her load of darks, mostly the clothes she had cleaned in. Like the machine beside it, she too filled the slots with coins before ramming them home. With the lid finally shut, she realized she was at last done… At least until the machines needed to be switched. For the first time since arriving in the village, she had a moment to sit and think. Climbing up on top of the washing machine, she sat down, feet kicking slightly as they hung off the side.

“I guess this is home now…”, she mused laconically as the machine hummed beneath her. She looked down at her feet over the side of the machine, hearing the festivities happening out beyond in the village. People were all having a good time, but she didn’t know any of them. She just smiled, knowing that if she didn’t she’d be crying instead.


[Exit]
[Claiming 2,000 words towards stats for +10]

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