Prosperity: The Steel Petal: Ch 1: Grace Undone
Story by MouseJ on SoFurry
Kari has just graduated high school—but there’s no party, no future lined up, and no one waiting at the ceremony. Her city doesn’t make room for soft girls with dreams. But in a quiet dojo tucked between rusting alleys and neon rot, she finds a moment of stillness. A teacher’s pride. A ritual’s comfort. A fragile breath before the fall.
Chapter 1 of Kari's origins
--Grace Undone--
The mouse girl rode her bike through a narrow alleyway. At its end stood a little hut, a patch of greenery tucked within the urban decay of Prosperity. She chained her bike to the stone post outside, where a weathered foo dog guardian statue stood watch, and walked across the stone pathway to the wooden sliding door. The name Matsuda Dojo, written in traditional Japanese katakana, was posted on a sign next to it. She slipped off her shoes, aligning them side-by-side before stepping in with socked feet.
Within the humble dojo was a Macaque, quietly sweeping the floor of her space. Several weathered calligraphy scrolls lined the walls. In the corner beside where she entered, there was a simple altar of burnt-out incense and a woodblock plaque behind it, engraved with the kanji for “discipline, perseverance, balance.” She looked up at Kari with squinted eyes and a broad smile as the mouse bowed gratefully before the aged master.
“Dearest pupil, have you come to practice?”
“Forgive me, Sensei—I can’t stay. I just wanted to show you.” She pulled a rolled-up certificate from her backpack.
The Macaque took it gently, nodding with a quiet pride that didn’t need words.
“Why, Kari, it feels like just yesterday you were struggling to throw a proper kick.” Sensei Matsuda chuckled, her pink face crinkling into a smile beneath a halo of greying fur. “You used to wear that red bandana like a Power Ranger.”
Kari flushed. “I was eight.”
“Still got that keychain, don’t you?” She chuckled, then wiped a smudge from Kari’s cheek, brushing off the city smog.
“Look how far you’ve come.”
Kari’s smile faltered. “I only wish he came to the graduation.”
Silence. Only the faint shush of a broom as Matsuda resumed sweeping the old floorboards. Kari set her bag down carefully.
“I almost stayed late after the last recital. I thought if I practiced long enough, I could make it all fit.”
Matsuda clicked her tongue. “You always had a rhythm to your fighting - you weave them together well. But to your father, fighting was for thugs. Music was for fools. If it didn’t serve a ledger, it wasn’t worth a girl’s time.”
“I know what he thinks of all of it.” A breath. “But when the music was right… it felt like I had weight.” A smile tugged at her lips. “I used to sneak into the gym and rehearse after school. Told myself I’d try out for the dance team someday.”
The Macaque lifted her chin with a gentle set of fingers. “You keep waiting for permission. You are free now to chase whatever path calls to you. And don’t forget—this place will always be your sanctuary. Wherever your journey leads, remember: fall seven times, stand up eight.”
She ruffled Kari’s round ears affectionately, chuckling—a soft giggle Kari couldn’t help but share.
“Thank you, Sensei. I have to go now and get dinner ready before Father comes home. He’s been so tired lately… I keep wondering if I’m doing enough. He said his chest felt tight last night, but blamed the air. I told him to lie down. He didn’t.”
The Macaque’s stony expression cracked slightly at the mention of Kari’s father. “Your father forgets that even cherry blossoms fall with dignity.” She shook her head. “Anyway, go on, girl. The world won’t wait.”
Kari bowed once more, deeper this time, to Sensei Matsuda, then gave her a tight, careful hug—mindful of her old master’s fragile frame. She turned to the entrance and slipped on her shoes—aligning the soles again.
She slid the door open. Ahead: concrete alleys, flickering signs, distant sirens. Behind her: incense, wood, the broom’s quiet whisper.
She lingered on the threshold. Her fingers hovered. Then dropped.
She could’ve turned back—the sanctuary still waited.
The alley opened ahead. She didn’t look back.
As she rolled past the alley mouth, the holo-billboard flickered overhead.
Aizuna, the pastel-furred cat mascot of DreamForge, twirled in sync to a bubbly idol track. Her mouth never stopped smiling, even as her limbs moved in immaculate rhythm.
Love your fans. Be their everything.
DreamForge Productions™ – Experience Yourself™
She braked. Not fully—just enough to make the chain click. The pastel cat danced again. Her grip tightened. She looked away. Pedaled harder.
Dinner wouldn’t make itself.
Gravel crunched under her tires as she neared the looming concrete stack she called home. Her tail swayed as she walked up to Mr. Nick, the fox who made his home beneath the stairway, his jagged teeth flashing beneath long, wiry whiskers. His shabby jacket and scarf reeked of liquor, and several empty bottles lay scattered near his makeshift rug. He used his tail as a cushion, curling it beneath him like the rest of his sparse belongings.
“Hello Mr. Nick.” Kari gave a respectful bow to the longtime resident of the stairs of her compound, her large round ears flopping forward. “Hope you’re doing well today.” Her eyes lingered on the freshly opened bottles.
Nick flashed a snaggle-fanged grin. “Well, if it isn’t lil’ Miss Kazushige!” his eyes lit up through the bleary inebriation. “All dressed up for a night on the town? You just graduated—was that today? Congrats lil’ missy!”
Kari smiled faintly, her tail twitching behind her. “Thanks… I used to think I’d be on stage after this. Singing. Maybe dancing. But…”
She trailed off, shaking her head.
“But what?” he asked, grinning. “You’re leavin’ yer pappy’s nest, be free as a bird, mousey!”
He paused, then looked around, as if expecting someone else. “Speakin’ of the devil…Figured your pappy would be out there with you, proud as anything.”
“Y-yes, Mr. Nick. He was working today.”
“What’d I tell you ’bout the ‘Mister’ stuff…” He trailed off, waving his hand. It then drifted to a little pink bunny charm on his jacket. Kari’s fingers brushed the little ranger on her strap. The weight of it felt heavier.
“You… remind me of—” He paused, blinked hard, then laughed, shaking off the memory. His smile faltered.
“Always said she’d show ’em one day…”
Kari stayed quiet, and watched Nick even as his eyes wandered.
“Anyway, that’s a gaddumn shame that yer pappy couldn’t be there. He better not be working himself to death. Those corpo jobs… they drain a man out. I saw him last week—looked like something had hollowed him.” He sighed, and shook his head, before flashing Kari a fanged smile. “Well, I’ll be cheerin’ you on from down here. Now that you've done gone and graduated, you don’t need anyone’s say-so to light up the world.”
" He grinned before wheezing out a laugh. “Not many stop to talk to a mutt like me, these days. But you always did.”
Kari smiled, and opened up her backpack and pulled out a worn CredStick. “I… didn’t have a chance to stop and eat lunch today anyway. There’s about 10 creds on this.” She kneeled down beside Nick and placed it into his hand. “Please spend it on food.” She suppressed a sigh. She knew exactly where he’d spend it—and hated that. She bowed and took the stairs. Eleven flights up
As she entered the apartment, she let the gown slip into the laundry basket and tightened the straps of her backpack, with the keychain dangling from it.
The home’s bio-monitor was dark. Connected care, the slogan had said. She tapped it. Nothing.
Her father’s plate lingered in the sink from breakfast—a hearty meal she’d cooked for him: synth-yolk omelette over rice, a streak of ketchup drawn across the top. The artificial egg still set. After long days, Kari watched her father slump through the door. His ears drooped, shoulders sagged. He never spoke of the deskwork—only peeled off the WorkPatch™ with a wince and went to bed.
He worked in client transitions at Shinonome Group—a company whose ads always showed rising suns and smiling families. “Redefining your future.”
She cleaned the breakfast mess in silence. The unopened Paxetine patches sat on the table, vending-pack sleeves still intact. Optivacore strips—empty—lay discarded beside them.
He never missed a dose. He took one that morning—like always.
She set out two plates—clone pork over Nutrice, a bowl of fake miso. Made with care.
Yet his plate sat there in front of the empty seat.
He just wasn’t hungry. Maybe he had stayed late.
She picked at the rice with the synthplast chopsticks. The clock ticked. The food cooled.
The sharp trill of the phone shattered the stillness, making her squeak. She jolted from her seat, nearly dropping the phone before catching it with both hands. She inhaled sharply and answered.
“Hello, Miss Kazushige?”
“Speaking.”
“This is the Charge Nurse at Prosperity Health Systems Downtown—‘Your Health is Our Business!’” Her voice was syrupy, rehearsed. “Are you authorized to receive updates on your father’s condition?”
Kari swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“Thank you. Your father has been admitted to the ICU.”
Her chest seized.
One breath.
“What room number?”
“He is in room 1346. Please be made aware that visiting hours are over in an hour. Have a lovely day!”
The phone beeped. She stared at it, still in her hand.
Something pressed up behind her ribs. She swallowed. She stood.
Fall seven…
She touched the red ranger keychain.
stand up eight.
She slid his meds into her bookbag and ran down the stairs, hastily moving past Mr. Nick.
“Hey, mousey, where ya off ta in such a rush?”
“Can’t talk right now, Nick, I need to go!”
She pedaled. No breath. No thought. Just neon. Just speed.