Chapter Text
A new school year, a new school. Just like the four previous years. A tradition, you might say. But this is the last time. You’ve made sure of that.
How interesting it will be to spend your three high school years in one place! Your optimism grows, buoying your spirits and you can’t help smiling as you rush into the front office of your new educational institution, almost forgetting that you missed the first day (through no fault of your own).
You skid to a halt at the reception window, catching your breath, a few minutes after the bell.
“I’m…’Your Name’,” you pant to the very unimpressed, purse-lipped receptionist. But even the icy roll of her eyes can’t bring you down right now. “I was...told...to come...here...first…?”
Her lips purse impossibly tighter for a moment as she points a sharp finger in the direction behind you and goes back to her computer screen, dismissing you and making a mental note to order more make-up remover. You’ll definitely be back here. Your name and face have been noted.
You turn around. The girl on a couch straight from the deep 70s looks up at you from her bright nail file and manicured nails as she pops a bright pink gum bubble. You stare back. You see the multitude of piercings decorating her ears, she sees your little nose piercing. You admire her perfect jet black wing, and she admires your smoky kohl. She stands up and, what d’you know, she’s sporting the exact same risqué length of skirt as you are. Her impeccable high ponytail adds at least two inches to her height. You run your hand through your own loose hair streaming down one shoulder, smoothing it down after your hurried arrival.
“I’m Tsukiko,” she grins at you, mischief already growing in her bright eyes.
“I’m ‘Your Name’,” you grin back, bringing even more mischief to the table.
It’s bffs at first sight.
“So, we’re in class 1-3,” she says as the two of you walk down the hall.
You listen attentively as your eyes travel over your new surroundings. The school is small, old but well-kept. Tidy.
“Our homeroom teacher is Mr. Yukimura. He’s alright,” Tsukiko continues, trying to fill you in on as much as she can before you get to your new home for the next three years. “Most of us went to the middle school next door so we kind of all know each other. It’s a gift and a curse. There are a couple of other new kids in class 1-2, I think. It’s pretty chill around here so you shouldn’t really have any trouble. Especially not when you’re with me,” she gives you a wink and then you step foot into class 1-3.
To your pleasant surprise, your presence causes no particular reaction in the class. (You’ve had some less than friendly welcomes in the past.) Some look up and smile or give a small wave before going back to chatting with their friends or to their notebooks, others don’t even register the new addition to the roll.
“Ah, so you must be ‘Your Name’,” Mr. Yukimura looks up from his magazine as Tsukiko and you make your way through the room.
“Sorry about missing the first day,” you say, a little embarrassed.
“Yeah kid...about that. You missed the tests so you’ll have to stay after school today and tomorrow to do them,” he informs you before going back to his magazine. “And you weren’t the only one,” he grumbles.
From your extensive experience of schools around the country you know exactly the kind of teacher Mr. Yukimura is. He was once idealistic, fun, his whole future ahead of him. He had a passion for history, his subject, and had that magic mix of education and entertainment. He could hold any class in the palm of his hand. But something, at some point started to go wrong. Perhaps he was passed over for promotion one too many times or perhaps his personal life began to self-destruct. But whatever it was, it had left Mr. Yukimura a tired, world-weary and sarcastic version of himself. He was handsome once, and this still showed, but his face was now covered in stubble, faint lines around his eyes, and you could picture him perfectly with a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. Mr. Yukimura paid lip-service to the rules but you could see he wouldn’t exactly be enforcing them strictly any time soon, not with his own tie undone and slung limply around his neck like that.
Tsukiko is about to show you to your seat when he looks up again.
“You gotta take out that nose thing,” he nods at you.
“Alright,” you say, carefully removing your favourite little jewel, knowing you’re going to put it back in as soon as homeroom is over.
“And oi,” he glares at your new friend. “Didn’t I confiscate about twenty-three of those things from you yesterday?” he waves a pen at Tsukiko, in the general vicinity of her head.
“I don’t know. Did you?” she shrugs like this is the first time she’s heard of this and proceeds past his desk, her countless earrings gleaming in the morning sun. Little does he know he could confiscate 203 if he wanted and it wouldn’t make a difference. Her collection is endless.
“Bloody kids,” you hear him mutter under his breath and reflexively pat his shirt pocket for the cigarette box he usually keeps there outside school hours as you make your way .
“Sir,” Tsukiko calls out, “this is ‘Your Name’s’ seat right?” she points to the fourth seat back, next to the window.
Mr. Yukimura looks up. “Yeah, seems about right,” he sighs.
“I sit there,” she smiles, now pointing to two seats ahead of you. The desk separating you from your companion is empty and Tsukiko takes it while you make yourself comfortable in your chair.
“So…” she lounges back. “Those are the class reps, Yumi and Sho,” she nods in the direction of the boy and girl at the front of the room. The girl looks much younger than a highschool first year but also extremely enthusiastic. The boy is not much different. All smiles and sunshine.
“They’re the professional kind,” Tsukiko rolls her eyes affectionately. “Ever since middle school…”
“That’s our top over-achiever, Kimi,” she picks out a girl with a head of thick dark curls bent over a textbook at the opposite corner of the room. “But she won’t talk to anyone.”
You hear deep, loud laughter erupt from the middle of the room.
“Let me guess,” you say, running your eyes over the small male huddle. “Your good old-fashioned troublemakers?” you arch your eyebrows at Tsukiko. “And those,” you refer to the small group of kids at the very back, “are your sporty types. Mmm...My guess is volleyball. And that one,” you look over the heads of your new classmates to point out a tall pale boy, “is your dark musician who sighs a lot.”
“Yeah…!” Her smiling eyes widen in surprise. “How’d you know?”
“Oh, trust me, it’s a little bit the same everywhere,” you smile knowingly.
“You’re good,” Tsukiko clicks her fingers at you and winks again. She’s intrigued and is about to say something else but the bell sounds and you begin to file out for chemistry.
At morning break you find, unsurprising though delightful all the same, that Tsukiko subscribes to the same general rule as you: if no one sees me, it’s not illegal. She shows you the back ‘entrance’ of the school and the two of you make your escape a short way down the street to the row of vending machines.
“This looks familiar. Kinda,” you say, looking around, your memories a little hazy.
“Oh yeah? Have you been here before? What middle school were you at?” Tsukiko asks as you two take your place in the quickly disappearing line, a bubble slowly growing and expanding on her lips just to be clicked out of existence a moment later.
“Last year we were in City K. That wasn’t too bad. And the year before City W. That was pretty bad. Before that it was City J, no...wait...before that it was City B and before that City J.”
“Wow. I can’t imagine moving around that much,” Tsukiko shakes her head. Then the realisation suddenly dawns on her and you can see a little sadness wash over her. “So I guess you’ll be moving on next year, huh?”
“Oh! No!” You hurry to reassure her, your eyes bright. “We’re here for good. I told him,” you mean your dad, but in your excitement you forget to clarify this, “I told him that I’d disown him if we moved again. Ryo, my little brother, just started at the primary school down the road. It’s his first year and I don’t want him being dragged around half the country. It’s hard when you can’t keep friends. And I don’t want him going through that too...” Now it’s your turn to smile sadly, the memories of too many goodbyes flashing before you. But you force it all back, your usual smile quickly returning. “We moved here because my aunt and cousins live around here and it’s just easier this way. We’re definitely staying.” And Tsukiko can hear the steely edge of your determination in your otherwise soft voice.
Actually, it was your Aunt Kiko who mostly threatened your dad and beat him into submission to finally move here and be close to family after...After that whole thing.
You had to give it to him. He tried. He really tried. But responsibility was never his strong point and after that...there was really no one to keep him on track. It was one dead end job after another.
You have no idea how your dad and Aunt Kiko could be siblings or even related at all and you still have your doubts. But you’re forever grateful for her assertiveness, organizational skills and general badassery. You are also forever grateful that she made sure you moved in as close as possible to her, finding an apartment in the building next door so that Ryo and you can come and go as you please. And yet somehow, your wayward father still found a way to fuck it all up and make you and Ryo miss the first day of elementary and high school, respectively. You can still see the stupid sheepish apologetic grin he gave you when he realised he booked the moving van and train tickets for the wrong day and you almost had a fit. Goddamnit all.
“That primary school ain’t too bad,” Tsukiko says as she fishes change out of her little skirt pocket. “I went there and some of my cousins too.”
You will soon come to know that Tsukiko has many, many a cousin.
She drops the coins into the vending machine slot one by one and picks out a sweet tea, stepping aside for you to make your selection. There’s not much choice left and you scan the rows several times trying to make up your mind while Tsukiko happily sips her cold drink.
You’ve just about made your choice when you hear a disgruntled sound behind you. A “Tch”.
You and Tsukiko whip around. Tsukiko already quite unimpressed and ready to give a piece of her mind.
“How much longer you gonna be?”
This scowling boy, in your school’s uniform, is a stranger to you, but not to Tsukiko. Her eyes narrow dangerously.
“Oh look who decided to join us,” she throws at him. “How kind of you to finally grace us with your fucking presence. You think you’re too good to start on the same day as the rest of us?” (You didn’t either but Tsukiko knows there’s a huge difference between you and Garou. And she doesn’t trust him. Not a bit.)
You look from Tsukiko to this new kid and back to her again.
“‘Your Name’, meet our resident rambo, Garou,” Tsukiko clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “Garou, meet ‘Your Name’. Be fucking polite, she’s new and I don’t want her getting a bad impression.”
He looks straight at you, patience wearing dangerously thin.
“Hurry the fuck up.”
“What’s your problem?” You fire back at him.
“Yeah...you’re not as bad as you think you are with that thing in your nose,” he rolls his eyes. “Just hurry the fuck up already.”
He knows people like you. The kind that think they are very cool and very edgy and very different but you’re all the fucking same. Same vapid, pointless shit. It drives him insane.
You’re a little taken aback. And more than a little insulted. You hate to be unkind and don’t understand when others are so. You’ve seen your fair share of school nastiness but this boy, you just can’t figure out. You hadn’t even done anything...yet.
“Ignore this idiot,” Tsukiko sniffs, her little hands folding into fists, ready to be thrown if needed. “He’s just getting his panties in a twist because he probably hasn’t had his Coke fix. Have you, asshole?” she darts her eyes back to him.
Coke huh?
You look back at the vending machine. There’s only one left. You don’t even particularly like Coke. But you know what? This idiot has gotten on your nerves. You put your coins in extra, extra slowly, your fingertips brush softly over the buttons, taking their time. You can practically hear his scowl now. And then it’s done. You reach in and grab your ice-cold Coke from the machine.
Tsukiko looks at you and knows what’s up, starts laughing. You are definitely her person.
You pop open the can and listen to that satisfying carbonated fizz before taking a small sip.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you cock your head innocently to one side, your composure now completely regained. “Did you want this?” You say as you hold out the can to him.
If looks could kill…
“No? Because it sure looks like you do.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
It is an inauspicious beginning. But this series of unfortunate events has only just begun.
When you get back to class you suddenly realise that the empty desk separating you and Tsukiko belongs to this Garou jerk and he’s none too pleased about the arrangement either. He doesn’t like you sitting behind him, where he can’t tell what the hell you’re doing. It’s unnerving and you, you hate having to stare at the back of his head every time you look up. And forget about passing notes to Tsukiko like this.
You knew this whole thing was too good to be true. Something always comes up and fucks it up.
At the end of last period, world history with Mr. Yukimura, you’re disappointed to wave goodbye to Tsukiko as she poutingly leaves the room, waving back, promising to text as soon as you’re finished. You watch the rest of the class file out as Mr. Yukimura yanks Garou by the collar out of the crowd.
“Where d’you think you’re going?” He glowers at this delinquent. Lord. Why him? Why did he have to get this class? “Park your ass right back down,” he gives him a light shove back to his desk and slams a set of papers down in front of both of you.
“Two today,” he sighs, “two tomorrow.” If it weren’t for you two he could be already out, enjoying a smoke.
“Why the fuck did we do the tests at the end of last year if you’re just gonna test us again?” Garou growls. And you begrudgingly have to admit, he has a point.
“Watch your fucking language,” Mr. Yukimura warns, completely free of irony, slipping his tie off and throwing it on his desk. “I don’t make the damn rules,” he spreads his arms in a sign of resignation and slumps back into his chair. “Just do your damn tests.”
You take a deep breath and hope neither your teacher nor this Garou notices you squirming in your seat. You spread the tests out on your desk. You can feel your heart beating faster and harder, the neat black print on the crisp white sheets goes a little hazy. Garou is right. Everyone did tests at the end of last year and you just scraped in. Barely.
You don’t understand it. Class work? Easy. Homework? You’re a pro. Group projects? Bring it on. But tests...tests are a whole other beast. It’s like your mind goes blank and you have no idea why. You know the information is in there but...And then getting the tests back, your teachers shaking their heads in disappointment. We just don’t understand. She’s such a bright girl. You feel yourself going red. Alright, just make a start. Just write down something. You take a deep breath and will your eyes to focus…
You get through a page. You don’t know how much time has passed. You feel you are doing alright. Possibly. Maybe… When something starts to break through your concentration. A regular, rhythmic sound. You try your best to block it out but eventually it breaks right through, long, lazy clicks of a pen in front of you.
Really? He’s being this childish? You look around but Mr. Yukimura seems to be in the walk-in cupboard at the back of the room. You clear your throat huffily, hoping this will spark a at least a tiny drop of consideration in your wayward classmate, but no such luck. You clear your throat again and kick his chair from behind.
He sprawls out in his seat more comfortably and the clicking gets louder.
“Do you mind?!” you finally hiss at his back.
“Yes...I do,” he drawls and you can practically see the smirk on his stupid face as he continues clicking his pen.
Mr. Yukimura shuffles out of the cupboard and makes his way back to his desk, pausing by the two of you to check on progress. He looks through Garou’s papers.
“Stop wasting my goddamn time and write something,” he goes to cuff him across the head, but Garou ducks. Fine. Fuck. He’ll write something.
You can now attempt to finish today’s tests in peace.
“Has he always been such a...” What’s the word? Ah yes, “Dick?” You text Tsukiko as you walk home. You’re a little mad at yourself for still not being able to handle tests, the feeling of frustration and embarrassment lingering, clinging to you but you’re also mad at Garou. And being mad at Garou is much, much easier.
“Yeah, he’s a bit...strange.” Tsukiko texts back instantly, having been waiting for your messages all afternoon. “He’s always been a bit stand-offish. Well, since middle school anyway. He’s got a very high opinion of himself. I don’t know why though, that idiot.”
If there’s one thing that Tsukiko hates, it’s pretentiousness in all its forms.
“So...what do you kids do for fun around here?” you change the course of the conversation, having had enough of Garou for one day. You decide he’s not going to spoil any more of it.
“Well…” Tsukiko begins with three winking emojis and you definitely know you’ve found your person.
At the next P.E. lesson Garou makes it clear that your feud isn’t over.
Mr. Motoyama has you all playing soccer against class 1-2, girls versus girls, boys versus boys. PE has never been one of your favourite subjects but you’ve never hated it. Until today.
Your class rep Yumi kicks the ball right at you and kicks unexpectedly hard for someone her size, screaming ferociously, giving you a fright as you jump out of the way and let it roll over to the boys’ side of the field.
“Damn Yumi,” Tsukiko is bent over, hands on knees, already sick of all this running. “You still got a set of lungs on you,” she chuckles. It’s always a sight to see the smallest girl in the class turn into a beast on the sports field. “Take your time!” she yells in your direction. “No hurry,” still trying to catch her breath.
That’s fine. You don’t mind going after the ball. Better than being hit and being covered with the black and blues. The boys don’t even seem to notice as the ball rolls over to the edge of their field, too caught up in the adrenaline of their own game. You’re only a few feet from your target when it’s suddenly stopped. You look up.
Oh for eff’s sake. Why? He stands there, looking down at you, grinning, the ball firmly underfoot.
“Don’t be a dick,” you toss your hair. “Just pass it back.”
He kicks it up and catches it.
“Oh, did you want this?” he holds it out to you. You go to grab it but he pulls it back, laughing, mocking.
The girls’ game has stopped, your teammates and the opposing team watching intently. You feel yourself blush. The anger rising. Tsukiko feels it too. Starts to make her way over.
“Just give it back,” your voice is dangerously low.
“Jump,” he says, almost yawning, holding the black and white ball above his head. You’re not that much shorter than him and you could probably get it if you jumped but you’re not going to give him that satisfaction. The boys’ game has dribbled to a stop too, everyone watching.
Tsukiko is almost there and Mr. Motoyama is fed up with this circus, blowing his whistle furiously.
“Jump,” he says again. Loud enough for everyone to hear. Looking straight at your smoky lined eyes. Oh if looks could kill. He chuckles. You’re a feisty one aren’t you?
You’re not going to jump but you’re not going to back down. You stand on tiptoes and try to reach but it’s no good. Some of the boys are beginning to enjoy this. The girls are frowning at them.
“I don’t think you want it bad enough,” he cocks his head to the side now, like you did a few days ago.
“Asshole!” Tsukiko roars as she reaches your side. “Just give us the damn ball already!”
“Hear that!” Some schmuck from class 1-2 calls out. “They want balls, fellas!”
“Yeah, but not fucking yours Shiro!” Tsukiko yells back.
The boys are in an uproar.
Mr. Motoyama finally huffs through the crowd. “Give the girls their damn ball back!” he yells, red in the face.
“Whatever,” Garou shrugs and lets it drop. You’re all flustered. He wins. He turns away from you, no longer interested.
The next day Garou saunters in just as homeroom turns into first period, maths. You get your books and pencil case out as he dumps his bag unceremoniously on his desk and takes his seat.
“Hey Tsukiko,” you call out casually, over his shoulder, as you rummage around in your bag.
“Yeah?” Tsukiko calls back, checking her eyeliner one last time in her little hand mirror.
“Why do you reckon Garou always misses homeroom?” you continue, completely ignoring his presence. You can see him tense at the mention of his name.
“Oh, I don’t know...many reasons…” Tsukiko answers, snapping her mirror shut. “Maybe…”
“Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have any friends?” You suggest helpfully. The class stops their chattering and is focused on this unfolding drama. You’d never thought you’d be one of those people but he seems to bring out the worst in you.
You’d love to see his face right about now but you have to remain cool and indifferent.
“Has he always been a loner, or is this just a recent thing?” You wonder out loud. The collective eyes of the class race from you to him to Tsukiko and back. Like watching a table tennis match.
“Oh he’s-”
“Good morning class 1-3,” Mr. Asada’s booming voice stops everyone in their tracks as he walks in, a bunch of papers, and books under his arm.
“Sir! Sir!” Ichiro, the volleyball captain, can’t sit still with excitement. “Are those our tests?”
“They sure are!” Mr. Asada beams and a murmur spreads through the class like wildfire, you and Garou suddenly forgotten.
He hands the sheaf of papers to Yumi to hand out and proceeds to write the lesson’s instructions on the board while she makes the rounds.
You see Tsukiko look at her paper and shrug before stuffing it in her bag. You hold your hand out and thank Yumi as she hands you the paper. Your eyes go straight to the green-inked grade. 89? ...89??! You can’t believe your eyes. This is amazing! This is your best test mark ever! This...isn’t your writing. Wait. You feel the blood drain from your face. But a satisfied smirk spreads across Garou’s.
“Hey, this ain’t mine!” He calls out to Yumi. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a 31 on a test before. I mean, that’s pretty damn low.”
The class watches with baited breath. Mr. Asada is oblivious, humming to himself as he continues to write, his large pot belly rubbing off half of what he’s already written.
“Oh…” Yumi stammers, growing red at her innocent mistake. “I’m sorry...I must’ve got the papers mixed up.”
“Here,” he flings the paper across your desk. “That’s yours, isn’t it?”
You shove his paper at him, trying hard to make your hand stop trembling. The class murmurs again, finally growing quiet when everyone has their tests, too enthralled by their own grades. You clench the hem of your skirt in your hand under your desk and wait until Mr. Asada stops talking and everyone begins working on the textbook exercises before excusing yourself to the bathroom.
Tsukiko watches you leave, then turns back to Garou.
“You’re an asshole, you know that? Fucking hopeless.”
“What are ya gonna do?” he grins back at her.
She gets up and walks over to the teacher’s desk.
“Sir, may I go to the bathroom?”
Mr. Asada looks up from his grading, adjusting his glasses. “You know the rule. Only one person is to be out of the room at a time.”
Tsukiko bites her lip.
“But sir! My period...today it’s just so he-”
“Alright! Alright! Go!” Mr. Asada is as red as a tomato, his voice a little too loud in order to drown out Tsukiko’s and ushers her out of the room.
“Thank you sir!” She turns on her heel and almost skips out the door.
Tsukiko finds you in the girls’ bathroom down the hall, locked in one of the cubicles.
“Hey,” she calls out, softly knocking on the door. “Are you ok?” Then reconsiders. “Damn, sorry...of course you’re not.”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you reply, sounding far from fine.
“He’s such an ass,” she offers.
You appreciate her solidarity but these tears just keep coming.
There’s a quiet moment while she deliberates.
“...I didn’t do too well either, if it helps,” she confesses.
You pull back the cubicle door slowly. You know that probably wasn’t easy to admit.
“Math’s isn’t my strong suit,” she says. With Tsukiko it’s always what you see is what you get and you already love her for it.
“Who needs maths when your eyeliner is so on point?” You smile back and start folding the tissue you were dabbing your eyes with into a little square.
“That’s true. You got a point there!” Tsukiko perks up.
“Does it look bad?” You ask, checking your reflection in the mirror, that artfully applied kohl liner smudged.
“Nah, it looks even better now,” she winks at you. “Just…” she takes a paper towel and swipes carefully under each of your eyes and to the outer corner. “There we go. Perfect.”
You check your reflection in the mirror one last time, the redness in your face is dissipating, your makeup not too worse for wear. She’s right. It looks even more sultry now.
“He ain’t worth crying over,” Tsukiko says, also taking the chance to check her reflection and adjust her ponytail. “No boy is.”
You wholeheartedly agree.
This isn’t over. Not by a longshot.