a/n: a big thanks to my friend paola on twitter for suggesting a haruka spinoff, i don't know how this became nearly 5k words but i'm proud of it

The sweater, baggy and hanging loose off her shoulders, felt strange on Haruka's body. She'd grown used to Kitauji's uniform, so used to it that it had begun to feel like a part of her. The green scarf that had adorned her neck for so long now hung on her closet door. The brown shirt and skirt had been given back to the school to give to the next student that happened to fit her exact measurements.

That was what she'd told them, anyway. The truth of the matter was something she'd have preferred not to talk about, which was precisely the reason why she sat, fidgeting, in an office chair in a sweater that felt wrong with the world quietly resting on her shoulders.

"You're taking a gap year?" Matsumoto asked her, leaning forward in her seat. She had to know the effect she had on students, and yet Haruka had seen her with her own children, as soft and caring as anything.

"Yes," she replied, timid.

"Why?"

"Well, a lot of . . . things happened this year, you see, and I don't . . . I don't think I can move on just yet."

"Your college counselor told me that you were accepted into two of your top choices."

"Yes, but-"

"One of them is right here in Uji. You wouldn't have to leave anything behind - you could even commute there, if that's what you prefer." Matsumoto picked up the brown folder that had sat prone on her desk and straightened it out. "Now, the other one . . ."

Haruka gulped.

". . . It's a few train rides away. I must say, Ogasawara-san, I'm impressed. This school isn't easy to get into."

"Thank you, Matsumoto-sensei."

"So why take a gap year? Both of them are still accepting late entries. You'd be able to start in the second trimester."

"Well . . ."

"Yes?"

"I don't know what to do." It was a quiet admission, something that should have been obvious, but it made bile rise in Haruka's throat nonetheless. "Everything I know is here. I can't just up and leave, can I?"

"Do you want to?" Matsumoto's voice dropped to something softer, more honest. It was a bit jarring. Her engagement ring glinted in the light of the window. Haruka suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

"I don't know," she repeated. Then, quieter, "yes."

"Is that so?" Matsumoto coughed, and she was back to the formidable woman Haruka had feared on some level for the past three years.

"I think that I need a . . . a fresh start. Go to a place where I'm not Kitauji's band's president."

"I think that's a good idea." Matsumoto put a hand on her shoulder. Haruka flinched at the sudden contact, then relaxed into it. "You'll do well, Ogasawara-san." Something vaguely akin to a smile flashed across her features for just a few seconds. "Make us proud."

In, out.

The trains rushed by and rattled the bones in her feet.

In, out.

Five or so suitcases sat stacked behind her - having said goodbye to her family the night before, waiting for the final connection that'd take her to the college far away from everything she'd ever known.

In, out.

She had to breathe. If she forgot to breathe, she'd feel her legs go numb and she'd fall, and there might not be anyone there to pick her up anymore. The thought made her shake. Her train rolled in, wailing, and she nearly cried with relief. It shook as she stepped on, hands clenched around the suitcase handles so tightly that she knew they'd leave welts when she took them off. The seats lined up in front of her in neat rows, nearly empty. She settled down in the closest free window seat, shoving her bags in the overhead compartment and then, finally, relaxing.

In, out.

Here she was, Haruka Ogasawara, sitting in a cushy train seat, waiting to go to some new college far from everything she'd ever known, and the nervousness mixed with excitement until the butterflies in her stomach rose up and made her feel like throwing up.

In-

"This seat's not taken, is it?" An older woman stood above her, red glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. She looked like a librarian.

"Oh, no, of course. Feel free." The woman gave Haruka a quick wave as a thank-you and sat down next to her without another word.

"You're a college kid, aren't you?"

"How did you know?"

"I've been told that I'm quite perceptive." The woman adjusted her glasses, and the light glinted off of them until Haruka couldn't see her eyes. "Besides, you've got the campus pamphlet clutched in your hands."

"Oh." Haruka dropped the pamphlet.

"It's alright, it's alright," the woman sighed. "I remember when I was like you." The train started up, beginning to slowly roll out of the station. "So young, so filled with adventure. The world's got endless opportunities, especially when you're bound for the city."

"I'm not sure if I'm all that adventurous." Haruka tugged at the zipper on her purse until it stayed shut. "I'm just looking for a fresh start."

"That's nice."

"Is it?"

"You've got a lifetime of things ahead of you. Choices, love, heartbreak, et cetera." The woman held a hand to her forehead and laughed. "Ah, I'm sounding like a lunatic, aren't I? I'll find some other seat. Wouldn't want to keep creeping you out!" She got up, almost as quickly as she'd arrived, and trotted away until Haruka couldn't see her.

The college campus was, unsurprisingly, big. Much bigger than Kitauji - bigger than most of Haruka's hometown, really. It was huge, and she could hardly make sense of the map. She'd circled the building where she'd live, and that was where she started for now.

"You're heading there, too?" a girl looking around Haruka's age asked, leaning in close to peer at the map. She was tall, incredibly so. Haruka stepped aside, shuddering at the hot breath on her neck. "Hey, maybe we'll be roommates."

"Maybe."

"Not much for conversation, eh?"

"I had to travel a while, you know how the trains are." Haruka had rarely been on a train ride longer than twenty minutes, and so she didn't really know how the trains were, but she hoped that her new companion was a bit more well-traveled than she was.

"Oh, I get that. I flew halfway across the country to get here, but it's worth it." The tall girl stretched, her back making a cracking sound as she did so. "I'm guessing from the saxophone strap that you're a musician? Not to be nosy or anything, it's just hanging around your neck like that, so you're either in a band or you're trying to make some kind of a fashion statement."

"I play the saxophone," Haruka mumbled, now painfully aware of the way it hung off of her. "I used to be my band's president, actually."

"Really?" The tall girl turned to her with stars in her eyes. "That's so cool!"

"Ah, it wasn't much." Haruka felt scrutinized under this girl's gaze - like she was waiting for her to slip up, but there was no malice in her appearance. "We were a small school."

"Did you ever do competitions?" The tall girl was walking a little faster now, probably from excitement, and Haruka had to struggle to keep up. "I used to watch those on TV at home, but they all sounded the same to me. No offense!" Haruka dismissed her with a pleasant hand-wave.

"None taken."

"Did you, though?"

"We did." Haruka started to fiddle with her saxophone strap, out of habit more than anything else, as she avoided the tall girl's gaze. "We actually made it to Nationals one year, right before I graduated. They were incredible."

"I can imagine."

"I have some videos of it, actually! I could . . . send them to you, I guess."

"I think that'd be nice."

Orientation went smoothly enough, as did moving in - the green ribbon now hung, pinned, on a corkboard with printed-out photos surrounding it. Haruka smiled fondly at the biggest one, despite herself.

"Who're they?" her roommate - a girl whose name she'd tried to remember with little success - asked, pointing one hot-pink manicured finger at the photo.

"Oh! The one on the left is Kaori, she was the trumpet leader."

"And the other one?" Haruka's roommate rested her chin in her hands, as if musing over something. "She's hot."

"Her?" Asuka's smug grin stared back at her. "That's Asuka Tanaka. She was the vice president."

"Sounds important."

"She should've been the president."

"You didn't do a good job?" Haruka was beginning to think that her roommate was not the kindest person on the planet, and she resolved to find that girl she'd talked to on the way here. Still, her heart twinged at the comment.

"I wasn't a good leader," she murmured.

"Huh."

"She was." That was all there was to say, really, but still Haruka continued. "She was . . . amazing, always coming up with better ideas than me. I couldn't have held a candle to her, but she never wanted to be the president, so I was stuck with the job."

"Huh." Her roommate leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. "She sounds like a funny character."

"I guess she was."

The next few weeks passed in a blur, as early days often did. Haruka tried to remember names and faces, made small talk and waved in hallways, but she still felt the best losing herself in music. The band wasn't half bad there, and she could play the saxophone with the best of them. She loved it. She could see herself there for years to come, and that was enough of a comfort, wasn't it?

Haruka sat alone on a bench at lunch one sunny Thursday afternoon, and she mused upon those thoughts with her sweater still hanging too loosely off of her frame.

"Care for some company?" Haruka looked up, and the tall girl she'd met that first day smiled back down at her. A trio of students she didn't recognize stood behind her, waving warmly. "Ogasawara-san, right?"

"Just Haruka is fine."

"Alright, Just Haruka." The tall girl laughed, and as she sat down Haruka felt a strange comfort envelope her. "The name's Yuki."

"It's nice to meet you again." Yuki folded her arms behind her head.

"We're heading up to my room tonight for a little get-together thing," she said, forward as anything. It was a bit alarming. "Wanna come?"

"You don't know me." It was the truth, and Haruka couldn't say anything else.

"'Course I don't. I don't know these three either, but that's college, yeah? Making friends and all that."

"I guess." Haruka suddenly wished she'd brought her saxophone strap with her, or at least tied her hair back today, just so she could have something to fiddle with. "I'm in room 206."

"Great! We'll pick you up once the sun's down."

They all sat there for the next hour, exchanging complete nothings, and Haruka felt just a little better.

Yuki's "little get-together thing" turned out to be, much to Haruka's surprise, actually what it said on the label and not a massive party full of drunken freshmen and bad decisions. Someone had set up a game of Jenga in the center, and a few students held their breaths as a boy in glasses precariously started to slide a block from its place.

"You made it, eh?" Yuki herself chirped, clapping Haruka on the shoulder. She flinched. The three from before sat in a line on her bed, watching something on a laptop. "Welcome to the party." The Jenga group looked like they were just about to pass out from the suspense.

"Thank you for inviting me." Haruka bowed slightly.

"We're all friends here, don't worry." Yuki appeared distracted for a moment, looking to the bed. Something loud played on the laptop, mingling with the old music someone was playing from their phone. It was all so odd, so relaxed, that Haruka could feel her fears melting away just a bit. "I thought those three were the only ones who'd show up, but hey, what do I know?"

"It's nice." It was, and so Haruka let herself go.

"So - hic - what're you majoring in?" Yuki slurred. It turned out that a complete lack of alcohol hadn't stopped her from asking the deep questions, wobbling back and forth with her legs crossed on the carpet. A girl pulled a Jenga block from the tower, and a few cheers erupted through the room.

"Oh, erm, music."

"Right, right!" Yuki clapped her hands together like a little kid. "You were talkin' about that back on the first day. Miss President's in the house, everyone!"

"Miss President," the room echoed, with varying degrees of excitement. Haruka curled up into herself.

"It really wasn't anything big," she murmured. "I shouldn't have been the president at all, really."

"Hmm?"

"I mean, Asuka was so much better. Sure, maybe sometimes she talked over me, and there was that time she left the band for a week without telling us what happened, but . . . she was good at it, wasn't she?" The room went eerily quiet, and Haruka was suddenly very aware of her own voice, shaky and whimpering as it was. "She was the best euphonist I'd ever heard." The Jenga tower collapsed.

"She didn't sound very nice," the boy in glasses finally spoke up.

"She was, though." Haruka was convincing herself of this. "I mean, she carried the band, I was just the figurehead." Tears started to slowly creep into her eyes, blurring the scene in front of her.

"Hey, Haruka-"

"I mean, she had to have been fine. Everyone loved her, and for good reason! She was amazing!" Oh, god. It's my first month of college and I'm already making a fool of myself, I should just-

"She sounds like a jerk."

"She wasn't!" Haruka's voice went hoarse, and she was dimly aware of the big, ugly tears dripping down her cheeks and staining her shirt.

"Hey, it's late." Yuki stood up, offering Haruka a hand. "Maybe I should walk you back to your dorm."

"I'm fine," Haruka mumbled, shakily rising to her feet. "I can do it."

"I wouldn't feel okay letting you go alone like this." Haruka balled her hands into fists nearly subconsciously, until her fingernails dug into the skin of her palms.

"Fine," she said, her voice so quiet that the Jenga crowd didn't even look up. Yuki led her silently out the door, but all she could see was the glint of red glasses and blue eyes.

"This is your place, yeah?" They stopped at Haruka's dorm, and she nodded.

"Thank you for everything," she murmured. "You didn't need to do this. And I'm sorry for ruining your party."

"You didn't ruin it. It was getting late and we were all kinda loopy. If it hadn't been you, it would've been someone else."

"That's . . . sort of comforting."

"Now, get some sleep, okay? I'll see you around." Yuki waved and left, and Haruka was left with her sticky key and dorm door.

"Where were you?" her roommate asked, not looking like she actually cared that much - or at all, really.

"I was out with some friends." The picture on the corkboard still managed to stand out in the darkened room, somehow. It was giving her a headache.

"I'm going to sleep now."

"Alright."

And so she did, falling away into dreamland until she could blissfully forget the disaster party and all that it had meant.

More weeks passed, turning into months as weeks often did. Yuki became a regular visitor at Haruka's dorm - something her roommate didn't particularly seem to mind - and she kept her saxophone skills as sharp as she could. Still, in the nighttime, she found herself haunted by the photograph and Kitauji, but she refused to muse upon any of it for longer than necessary. There would be no point in it. What's done is done, as they say, and there was no changing the past.

There was only now, and college, and the saxophone hanging around her neck in the music room.

Yet, she pushed on.

"Going anywhere for winter break?" Yuki asked, packing up her things in one small suitcase. Haruka's roommate (whose name she still hadn't learned, somehow) had announced her plans to join her a few days prior. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what was going on there.

"Home," Haruka replied simply. "I want to see my family again."

"Hmm, I get that. Say hi to them for me, okay? And stay away from that Asuka chick. She sounds like trouble."

"Is that the hot girl on your corkboard?" the roommate asked. Haruka didn't humor her with an answer.

"I'll miss you guys."

"We'll see each other in a week." Yuki got up and left, roommate in tow, and Haruka cast one glance at the photograph before she left herself.

Uji was always beautiful in the wintertime, and this was no exception. Greedily, Haruka breathed in the crisp air, and it felt like home.

At least, that was what she said to herself, but the truth was that the cold hit her nostrils uncomfortably and the landscape around her felt strangely unfamiliar, like the way one's house might look in a dream. Her parents greeted her at the train station with hugs, and as she looked out through the frost-coated car window she wondered what it was that was tugging at her heartstrings like this.

To clear her head - that was all, just to clear her head - Haruka took a walk the following morning. Little puffs of cold air floated out in front of her with each breath, and she imagined that they were following her - a little trail of clouds, just floating along behind her. Uji was still cast in that dreamlike state, but she tried not to think about it much. A familiar figure sat on a bench, gloved hands trying to flip through a thick binder as papers scattered around them. The ribbon was unmistakable.

"Yoshikawa-san?" Haruka said, quietly, as if she were creeping up on a small animal. Yuuko lifted her head.

"You're here on break?"

"Yeah." Haruka looked at the bench, and Yuuko wordlessly pushed aside some of the papers. "I've . . . missed this." Yuuko didn't seem to miss the hesitation in her voice. "How's the band?"

"Being the president didn't go all that well, if that's what you're asking." Yuuko's voice was snippy, and her hands kneaded her skirt like she was rolling dough. "We won gold at Nationals, but-"

"Wait, you what?!" Haruka sat up straight, her whole body somehow feeling like it was alight. "How come nobody told me?"

"I guess you never asked." Yuuko took a deep breath. "It wasn't that great. We won by a hair, everyone was stressed out, and what'd we get in the end? A big ole' cup."

"Yosh- Yuuko, that's incredible." Haruka hated the way her nose was already starting to get stuffy. "Why aren't you more proud?"

"I am." Yuuko looked at the papers again. "It's just . . . eh, you wouldn't get it."

"Try me."

"You and Asuka-senpai were kind of dysfunctional, right?"

"We weren't-"

"Imagine that, but ten thousand times worse." Yuuko leaned back, looking Haruka dead in the eye and daring her to say more, letting the words speak for themselves. It made her shiver, but then again it could've just been the cold.

"Oh."

"Yeah." Yuuko stood up, collecting her binders and papers with her. "You should visit Kitauji sometime. Taki-sensei misses you."

"I will." Haruka didn't - couldn't - say anything else as Yuuko walked off and left her alone on the cold bench.

It felt strange, as everything seemed to these days, for Haruka to be once again wandering Kitauji's halls. This time, a nametag was stuck to her sweater with her name scribbled on it - a security precaution, she supposed - and she was no longer a student at all. First-years ran around, laughing, but she didn't recognize any of them.

"Come on in, Ogasawara-san." Haruka turned to see Taki's office door wide open, the conductor himself sitting in a soft chair. She caught sight of a cane leaning on his desk, and she wondered just how much she'd missed. "It was nice of you to come and see me."

"Of course, Taki-sensei." She felt so out-of-place it was nearly painful. "I've missed you." That, at least, wasn't a lie.

"You seem unsure of yourself." Taki's unwavering blue gaze made Haruka shiver. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh, no, not at all. Nothing's wrong, Taki-sensei. It's just . . . weird to be back, is all."

"I can understand that."

"It's getting hard to know what to do next. Not to think too far ahead or anything, but I don't know what I want to do after it's all done. Once I've graduated."

"You don't have to think about that now."

"I wish I didn't." Haruka twirled a strand of her hair around and around her finger until she could feel it pulsating. "It's hard not to think about a lot of things."

"Listen, Ogasawara-san." Taki's voice took on that chilled, commanding tone it sometimes did, and it made Haruka stand up straighter. She'd have expected Taki to stand up, too, but he didn't move. "You were an excellent president. You were a leader to them in the way that I could not be, that Tanaka-san could not be, that anyone but you could not be. You may not have been the most skilled or the most charismatic figure in the room, but you cared, didn't you?"

"I did."

"That was something they needed, to balance out my . . . methods." Taki rubbed his temples and closed his eyes. "I won't work here forever. Someday, Kitauji will need a new conductor, and if you're still up for that in five years, after you've graduated and sorted out the rest of your dilemmas, I would be more than happy to recommend you for the job." Haruka had heard the saying "stunned into silence" before, but she'd never felt it until this moment.

"Taki-sensei, that's an honor, but I couldn't- I mean, I don't know anything about teaching, and-"

"It's just a suggestion. You'll know what to do when the time is right, but in the meantime, just work your hardest and enjoy these days." Fondly, Taki looked at a dusty photograph on his desk. "They're ones you can't have back, once they're gone."

"I will."

"I know it, Ogasawara-san." Taki returned to his work, and just like that, something alive flickered back into Haruka's chest.

"How was the visit home?" Yuki lounged on Haruka's bed when she opened the door to her dorm.

"Weird." Haruka plopped down on the floor, prompting a quizzical look from her roommate. "It didn't feel like I was going home at all."

"Hmm, yeah, that is weird."

"What do you two think about teaching?"

"What?" Yuki and her roommate asked in unison.

"Taki-sensei - that is, my old conductor - said that once he retired, he'd consider recommending me as his successor. I've never even thought about that. Teaching, I mean."

"Do you want to?"

"I don't know." Haruka looked down at her fingers, and she realized they were shaking. "I always did feel nice when I was the conductor for the band on days when he was out sick."

"Think about it, then. Nobody's rushing you." Yuki put a hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to go home again if you don't want to."

Sitting in her room under the corkboard with two sort-of friends, Haruka wondered if that was true.

With her roommate fast asleep, Haruka tossed and turned, but sleep evaded her.

"What do you think I should do?" she murmured, flipping over to face the photograph. All three of them looked so happy in it. "You'd know the answer, wouldn't you, Asuka?"

"You and Asuka-senpai were kind of dysfunctional, right?" Yuuko's voice rang in her mind.

"She sounds like a jerk." Soon enough, it mixed with Yuki's.

"I wish you'd know the answer."

More weeks passed, as they did, and soon Haruka found herself at another one of Yuki's small get-togethers, this time hosted in her dorm. She suspected that her roommate had something to do with it.

"Can't believe it's already January," Yuki sighed, tipping her head back and taking a long swig of soda like it was a beer. "You'd have thought a year like this would last longer."

"You're telling me." Haruka fiddled with her saxophone strap. "I wasn't even here for the first trimester."

"Right, right." Her roommate filed her nails with a glance upwards. "What was up with that, anyway?"

"Oh, well, at first I was going to just take a gap year to . . . to deal with everything, you could say." Two pairs of eyes suddenly focused on her. "You know, losing the Nationals, the . . . Asuka drama, all of that. I needed some time off."

"What changed your mind?" Yuki asked, leaning in on her haunches like a cat.

"I don't really know." Haruka took a deep breath. "I told my teacher that I needed a fresh start."

"Is that still true?"

"Psych majors," Haruka's roommate muttered from the bed with a good-natured eye roll. "Always asking the personal questions."

"You love it," Yuki retorted before turning her attention back to Haruka. "So?"

"I guess so," Haruka murmured. "I mean, I needed to get out of there. Too many bad memories. I wanted to be someone other than Kitauji's president, and I guess I accomplished that much."

"You're doing well." Yuki tapped a finger to the side of her head, as if she was pondering something. "I mean, cliched as they are, there's something to be said about them. Fresh starts, I mean."

"Right."

"You're doing well," Yuki repeated, "-but do you think you could be doing better?"

"Yeesh, give her a break, babe." The roommate flipped over on the bed, letting her hair hang off the edge of it. "You're gonna send her into an existential crisis."

"I'm trying." It was the truth, anyway. "I mean, I'm happier here than I was at home, so that's something, right?"

"It is." Yuki clicked her tongue. "Do you miss your old friends?"

"I . . . don't know." Haruka paused. Then, quieter, "no."

"Huh."

"I think I'm going to turn in for the night." She stood up, already on her way to the bed. "It's getting late. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"You know it." Yuki started to walk backwards out the door. "Hey, and Haruka?"

"Yes?"

"Don't stress yourself out too much, okay?"

"I'll try."

Late that night - so late that Haruka could hardly see her hand in front of her face - she hopped out of bed and shuffled over the the corkboard, and slowly, carefully, she took down each photo and put them away in her dusty suitcase.

"I think I'm going to become a teacher," Haruka said one windy afternoon, with the trees outside her dorm room window standing hardy against the battering ram of air that threatened to take them down. Her roommate looked away from her book.

"Huh?"

"I mean, maybe not at home - I could find somewhere else to work, probably - but I wouldn't rule it out, either. I could do it, change my course requests, figure it out."

"You know that this is kind of sudden, right?"

"I do." With her eyes closed and her hand pressed up against the cold window, Haruka could almost imagine she was back in her childhood bedroom, watching cars rush by, but she wasn't there anymore, and she didn't mind that at all. "I've been thinking it over a lot, though. It's probably for the best."

"If you say so."

"Could you tell Yuki to come here when she has the time? I want to thank her."

"Anything for you, roomie."

Weeks and months and years passed, and soon enough Haruka stood at the entrance to a high school the next town over. If she squinted on clear days, she could still see Kitauji in the distance, Mt. Daikichi hunched over it like a protective mother. That wasn't where she was now, though, and she took a deep breath before stepping inside. Her phone beeped. She looked at it curiously, smiling when she saw the messages.

Yuki: hey! good luck today, you'll do good
Yuki: your old college pal (aka my wife) says to say hi

Haruka was just about to tap out a response when the phone beeped again.

Asuka: you're finally doing it, huh?
Asuka: about time

She walked inside and left the second message unanswered.

a/n: you know that one scene from grey's anatomy or whatever where one of the doctors goes "she's very little and you're hurting her!" that's me with haruka at asuka