Monday 22nd October

It was half five in the morning when Kusama Nowaki was woken sharply by a howl from a distant small child and the slamming of a door. He groaned and rolled over, tucking himself into a tight ball under the sheets and hoped whichever child it was would go to the parents of the orphanage rather than to him.

Unfortunately, little fists banged on his door only moments later and a shrill voice cried his name repeatedly. As tempting as it was to ignore the noise and pretend he hadn't already woken, he forced himself out of the warmth of his bed and opened his door. Immediately a small sticky, slightly damp, creature struck him about the knees and clung on like a limpet, wailing something incomprehensible.

"Hayate," Nowaki said tiredly, attempting to pry the boy from his legs. "What is wrong?"

Hayate repeated was he had howled, only slightly slower and not anymore comprehensibly. Finally, Nowaki unhooked him and scooped him up, grimacing at the suspicious dampness.

"Have you had an accident, Hayate?" he asked resignedly. "It's all right to tell me."

Tearfully, Hayate nodded. "I tried not to. I just woke up…"

"It's all right," said Nowaki firmly. "Let's get you cleaned up and back into a dry bed, huh?"

It was going to be a long day…

At six in the morning, the bin-men rattled by downstairs and Takahashi Misaki's alarm buzzed harshly. He squeezed his eyes closed and hoped that maybe Takahiro would let him lie in a bit longer, but his brother was already moving about in the living room and there clearly wasn't much chance of a reprieve.

Soon the bedroom door cracked open and Takahiro leant in briefly. "You can go for your shower now, Misaki. Your turn to make breakfast!"

Misaki grumbled his thanks and wriggled upright, still bundled in his duvet. The apartment was already freezing – they couldn't afford to pay their aunt back anymore but the bare minimum of rent and utilities and so there wouldn't be any heating in the house until the full depths of winter. But as autumn set in, it was already chilly enough that Misaki struggling to get out of bed. It took a few minutes to stoke up his courage, but he did manage to finally shed his duvet and scuttle to the bathroom. A lukewarm shower and a quick change into his school uniform – freshly ironed courtesy of his brother – later, he installed himself in their little kitchenette and fired up the stove as Takahiro went to shower himself.

They traded duties every week, one making breakfast and preparing lunch and the other making dinner, so it was easier for everyone. Misaki tended to do the cleaning because Takahiro had a part time job to go to after school, and overall it had all worked out well. They been doing this for five years now, after their parents had tried to rush home on that wet night and Takahiro had refused to be separated from his little brother. An aunt had loaned them the money for the rent of a small flat, on the agreement that they would pay her back as much of it as possible and they did well in school.

At the moment though, Misaki wasn't doing so well in school. Takahiro was naturally intelligent, if a bit ditzy, and had his study patterns down pat already, but Misaki was sure he himself had neither of those things. His grades had been steadily descending all year – he was already due to attend detentions because of failed exams and assignments – and so the school had offered him a tutor to help stop this.

Unfortunately, the tutor they'd given him was Usami Akihiko. He was a boy in Takahiro's year, one above Misaki's, and Misaki didn't like him very much – he was overly clingy with Takahiro, but intensely grumpy with everyone else and constantly in some form of trouble. They'd had a few sessions together, and while Akihiko was a good enough teacher, he was just plain unpleasant.

Takahiro emerged from the shower and Misaki served up one of the omelettes he'd been cooking, smiling when his brother took a bite and declared it a cooking triumph.

"Have you got to meet with Usagi-chan today?" asked Takahiro, who had always liked Usami Akihiko.

"Um, no," said Misaki miserably. "I've got detention this afternoon."

"Oh yes." Takahiro's face fell momentarily, but he quickly perked again. "Oh well, even the best of us have off days right? It's nothing to worry about."

Misaki agreed vaguely, but inside he knew it was a lie. Their school was an expensive private academy, and the money their parents had left was just enough to cover the rest of their fees – Misaki didn't want to be the one who wasted it. Stomach roiling with anxiety, he picked at the remains of his omelette until Takahiro noticed the time was nearing seven and their bus would be drawing near.

On a weekend Miyagi Yoh would do his best to get up at eight and go for a quick run around his neighbourhood to keep himself in shape, and also to wake himself up for the weekend. On a weekday though, he had to struggle to get up at seven, hoping he could beat his father out of the house so he wouldn't have to talk to the man.

Ever since the Incident with the Former Teacher in the year before, Miyagi's family relationships had been slightly strained, and his old man would look askance at his son every time they encountered still. His mother hadn't spoken more than five words to him either, and would occasionally hide herself in her room and cry when he came home.

Miyagi hated being in this house, but he fought to remind himself that this was the last year he would have to be here. Come the next, he would be in university and could move away from home with the little money he had saved up in his bank. Of course, that was dependant on not being expelled – he was already on some sort of list thanks to the Incident, and the strain was showing on his school work and attitude.

He hated to admit it to himself, but he was hurting still. Sensei had been kind and interested in him and he had loved her, damn it, no matter what anyone else had said. And she was dead now, buried in a graveyard too far down the coast for Miyagi to visit with any regularity. No one had offered him sympathy with her passing, no one had even deemed him important enough to tell when she had died. The emphasis had been on keeping the pair of them apart, and that wasn't fair. Miyagi had loved her, still loved her even now, but she had cared for him like an older sister would and there had never been anything untoward in the relationship. No one believed it, of course, and the resulting furore had worn the woman down relentlessly, probably had even cause her death in the end.

He cleared the front door just as he heard his parent's bedroom door open, but he didn't pause to say goodbye. He was going to be half an hour early for his bus, but it wasn't too cold a day and he needed to grab something from the store from his lunch. The cold bus stop was more welcoming than facing the silent judgement of his home anyway.

After waking at half seven in the morning, gently chivvied from his bed by his mother hovering in his doorway for fifteen minutes, Kamijou Hiroki would have to spend a good half an hour in the bathroom, hopelessly trying to find a new style and deciding on the same one. His hair would always fight back against the comb and his face always seemed to have a adolescent shine to it that no amount of washing would take away. He wasn't a naturally vain person by any mark, but if you were going to be friends with Usami Akihiko you had to make an effort, otherwise you'd look like a tramp in comparison.

Plus if Akihiko caught sight of Hiroki's flyaway forelock on a bad day, he tended to mock his friend mercilessly. Hiroki wouldn't traditionally take that sort of thing from anyone, but Usami Akihiko was that special person who could get away with most things. Of course, extensive teasing would have to be paid back with a swift punch, but no other person would even be allowed to think anything similar without immediate retribution. He'd already inflicted any amount on people both in his year and above for picking on him this term, and he was already in trouble for it.

"Hiro-chan, you're going to be late!" His mother called from outside the bathroom. "Your father wants to know if you want a lift in the car?"

Growling, Hiroki snatched up his toothbrush and set about his teeth in a frothy flurry, even while he glared at the last cowlick that he couldn't quite stick down. His father insisted on asking if he wanted a lift every day, because he was desperate to separate his son and his son's best friend, but Hiroki always refused.

"Hiro-chan!"

He spat his mouthful of froth out and rinsed quickly. "I'm coming!" He burst out of the bathroom, grabbed his coat and bag from on top of his bed and clattered out into the hallway. His mother was standing in the hallway, holding a plateful of toast and shaking her head.

"I'll tell you father you don't want a lift then," she said, as he yanked on his shoes and leapt up to pillage the plate of toast. "You'll have to start getting up earlier, I think."

"Not a chance," said Hiroki firmly. "I'll be home late today."

"We know," said his mother darkly. "Be good today."

Hiroki muttered something noncommittal, muffled by his mouthful of toast, and ran out the door. His father was already in his car and resignedly waved a hand when Hiroki ran past at full tilt.

Life in the Usami household started very early in the morning, but only if you were not the youngest master of the family, Akihiko. He would lie in bed until the last possible minute, and perhaps even beyond if he could manage it. If that meant the butler had to drag him out from under the covers by force then so be it.

This morning, Akihiko had gotten up at eight, long before it had reached that point, and so found himself not enjoying his breakfast at all, counting down the minutes before he could justify leaving and meeting Hiroki. Across the table, his elder brother Haruhiko was scowling into his bowl, occasionally glancing up to spear Akihiko with a particularly unpleasant stare, while beside him sat their father, sipping listlessly at his tea and reading the newspaper intently.

Beside Akihiko was an empty space where his mother should have been, but she was still in bed with a hangover and probably a sore throat from the amount of arguing she and her son had been doing the night before. They had clashed over Akihiko's woeful school record again, she accusing him of failing to spite her and he not saying much to prove her wrong.

It wasn't that he couldn't do the stuff – it was all painfully facile, if he was honest – but simply that he saw no point. He would receive no congratulations, no kudos, no attention, if he did well. The only thing that did get him attention these days was being bad – he was under enough scrutiny at the moment for his failing marks, his smoking habit and that brief incident with the closet and the upperclassman that still caused his father to develop an expression like he had been sucking lemons.

Almost as if the man could hear him thinking those things, his father abruptly lowered his paper and fixed his son with a gimlet eye. "You have detention this afternoon. Don't forget it."

"I won't," said Akihiko glumly, wondering how much he had to have upset Tanaka-san for the man to remind his father of that.

"This is your last chance, Akihiko," his father continued, regardless of his son's abject misery. "You screw up again, and you're expelled. I had enough trouble persuading them to let you stay after…" His face screwed up in a disgusted scowl and he almost slammed his teacup down. "So you'll do your best, you hear? Akihiko!"

"Yes, father," said Akihiko, finally pushing his plate away. "May I be excused? I'll be late to meet Hiroki."

Usami Fuyuhiko made a dismissive 'tch' noise and waved his hand briefly. Akihiko decided to take this as an invitation to go, and strolled out to fetch his bag and coat from the rack in the hallway.

It was safe to say that most mornings Takatsuki Shinobu didn't arrive at school entirely awake. He would rouse himself at eight for long enough to dress and get to the car, before slumping into a doze again while his sister was left off at her school and the car took him to his.

Once there, he would lounge in the car until he spotted Misaki arrive and after that he was free to enjoy his day of being surrounded by immature idiots.

This morning was no different, except when he scuttled to his friend's side, Misaki didn't greet him in quite the normal perky fashion.

"You're still worrying about the detention," said Shinobu, "Idiot."

"I've never had a detention before," said Misaki, hauling his bag further up onto his shoulder and tucking himself down into his coat as wind whistled sharply across the frontage of the school. "I really screwed up this time. Nii-san is really bothered by it…"

"Come off it." Shinobu clapped a hand to Misaki's shoulder and rolled his eyes. "One detention won't foul up your record at all. And anyway, now you've got Usami-senpai to tutor you, you'll probably never get another one."

Now it was Misaki's turn to roll his eyes, because there was nothing like mentioning Usami Akihiko to get Misaki into a tizzy and Shinobu knew exactly how to exploit it. "He's such a weirdo though. I had to bring him his own bento box last week to even get him to show, and he spent most of the time scribbling in his notebook rather than doing his own work or helping me." He paused and then added, "You know, my brother calls him Usagi-chan all the time. What a stupid nickname!"

"You've mentioned it," said Shinobu dryly. Whether Misaki realised it or not, Usami Akihiko was his favourite topic of conversation. "Look, never mind that. I'm in the same detention anyway, so we can keep each other company."

Misaki gave him a look. "I told you you shouldn't have said that to the teacher."

"She was wrong!" Shinobu exclaimed as they entered the school building, shuddering slightly as the first wave of warmth struck him. "She should have accepted it and moved on!"

"You probably shouldn't have called her 'dozy' though." Misaki paused and added, "And you definitely shouldn't have sworn at her when she didn't listen."

"Whatever." Shinobu directed them towards the library. "Come on, I want to pick up a book before class."

Miyagi always installed himself into the same seat at the library, often with the same poetry collections to keep himself company until people started to arrive. Aikawa Eri from the year below and Isaka Ryūichirōfrom Miyagi's own year would come over every morning and chat with him, and without fail, Takatsuki Shinobu would come creeping around the place not long after.

Shinobu's older sister Risako and Miyagi had dated for a couple years, before the Incident had gotten Miyagi into everyone's bad books and they had split up, Risako moving to an all-girls school not long after. All through the relationship, Miyagi had always had the sense that Shinobu had intensely disliked him – he had greeted all attempts at conversation with a scowl and had often simply run away when Miyagi approached him – so it was a puzzle now as to why Shinobu was apparently stalking him.

Today he excused himself from Isaka's and Aikawa's company and slipped between the shelves, winding his way around until he was able to sneak up quietly on a certain blond. Shinobu had holding a heavy poetry anthology, peering through the gap it had left in the shelf, trying to catch a glimpse of his target.

"You must really enjoy Basho," he said, grinning when the boy jumped and dropped the book on his toes. As Shinobu cursed and clutched at his injured foot, Miyagi picked the book up and carefully stowed it back on the shelf. "So what are you hanging about here for then?"

"I was just reading up on my poetry," the boy exclaimed, eyes wide and honest.

"I'm sure," said Miyagi. There was just something about those big stormy grey eyes, wide and horrified, that made his mouth dry out a bit. "So you were reading up on your poetry on Friday? And Thursday? And every day for the past month?"

Shinobu opened and closed his mouth a few times, before he looked down at his feet, clenching his hands into tight, little fists.

"Only I could have sworn last year, you absolutely hated me," Miyagi delivered his killing blow before he could get too caught up in the adorableness.

Shinobu's gaze shot up and the older man was startled to see that there were tears forming in his eyes.

"I never hated you!" he yelled, clapping a hand to his mouth immediately and then repeating himself in a much quieter tone. "I never hated you. I…" He swallowed sharply and then said, "You should take responsibility! I like you!"

"That's… nice…." Miyagi stuttered. "But what…?"

"No, I mean I like you." Shinobu blinked and clenched his jaw. "I like you, Miyagi…"

"Ohhh." Realisation sunk in and Miyagi took a quick step back. "Oh, I see."

"I've always liked you. Even when my sister was dating you, I knew you'd be better with me! It's fate that we be together!"

"Shinobu…" Miyagi braced himself for the unpleasantness that was going to follow. It wasn't that he was displeased by the confession – in fact it was nice to know that someone as cute as Shinobu liked him – but he didn't think it was right. He was still stuck on sensei, and it definitely wasn't fair on Risako. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm flattered but I don't think this would be sensible. I mean, there's been so much going on this past year for me, and your sister…" He drew to an uncomfortable finish in the face of Shinobu's expression. The pixie-ish face had crumpled into a ferocious scowl, tears leaking down his face in streams.

"I'm not going to give up on you!" he exclaimed, prodding Miyagi's chest. "You'll have to take responsibility eventually!" And with that he turned and fled, leaving Miyagi behind in shock.

Shinobu's habit of stalking Miyagi every morning no longer bothered Misaki . He would let his friend go off and obsess on his target for half an hour, while he read up on some new recipes. Cooking was Misaki's escape and he was always on the lookout for something new to create.

Today, he was thinking about some sort of warming stew for dinner sometime soon, and trailed down the shelves until he found the savoury section. One of the older students was already there; Kusama Nowaki, from the year above him, was reading through a Cooking for Beginners book. Misaki eased past him and chose a much more complicated book, flicking through the page until he found what he wanted.

"That looks good," said Nowaki after a minute, and Misaki looked up to see the bigger student smiling down at him. Misaki looked back at the page he had been reading – a one pot seafood stew that did indeed look delicious – and then nodded. "You're in the cooking club, aren't you?"

"Yeah." Misaki grinned, suddenly into his subject here. "You should come along, we do easy things too."

"I might give it a try," said Nowaki, putting his book back on the shelf. Misaki tucked his under his arm and they headed to the desk. As they walked, a small blur of blond hair and tears shot past at speed; Misaki started after him and then realised that he had little hope of catching up to Shinobu and even less of comforting him if he did manage to catch him. He remained beside Nowaki instead and promised that he would try to talk to his friend at lunch about what had happened.

He checked the book out as Nowaki spoke about preparing meals at his house, which seemed to be some sort of group home place. Misaki didn't know much about Nowaki, except that he had previously been in Misaki's year but had been moved up one into Takahiro's year for being too smart. He had been in a different class when he had been in Misaki's year, so they had never had much contact before, which Misaki was rather regretful for – the upperclassman was always friendly and seemed to work really hard when it came to his family.

"Nowaki!" A strident voice rang out, causing the librarian to drop the book Misaki had handed her and shush the offending student vigorously. "Sorry." It was Kamijou Hiroki, who Misaki feared in a deep and visceral sort of way, and he was tempted to abandon his book and run for it when he noticed the silly smile that had appeared on Nowaki's face.

Kamijou was constantly cross, and had a reputation for having a keen right hook, so why Nowaki was smiling at him like a lovesick girl was quite beyond Misaki. But Misaki now had problems of his own – Usami Akihiko was strolling across too, all tall and handsome, blonde hair swept back out of blue eyes. He didn't smile at Misaki, but his mouth quirked into the brief smirk which often substituted for it.

"How are you this morning, Misaki?" he asked, voice rumbling and smoky. Beside them, Hiroki was apparently trying to start a fight with Nowaki, and seemed to be failing greatly, which was only driving him to greater heights.

"I'm fine, thank you," he said briefly in return, taking his book back from the librarian and thanking her. "How are you?"

"All the better now you're here," said the older student, and Misaki fought the urge to scowl at him. Usami Akihiko had two settings – chilly and emotionless, or incorrigible flirt – and you could never be sure which you were going to get. Misaki wasn't entirely sure which one he preferred either.

"You think you have time to learn to cook?! Clearly I'm not giving you enough work to do!" snapped Kamijou, loudly enough that the librarian shushed him again.

"But Hiro-san teaches me so well, I can't help but get my work done!" answered Nowaki, still using his softest, happiest voice. There was a slight crook to the smile on his face that indicated he knew exactly what he was doing to drive Kamijou insane, and Misaki found his amusement catching.

Fighting to cover his smile at the pair's antics, Misaki looked up at Akihiko expecting to see a similar smile. He was badly disappointed – there was no smile, no amused glimmer in his blue eyes. Instead, Usami Akihiko looked heartbroken, lips slack in misery, eyebrows tilted down, shoulders hunched in. Misaki followed his gaze and found himself staring at his brother.

Takahiro was accompanied by his new girlfriend, a pretty girl in his year called Manami. They were in the corridor outside the library, Minami joking and laughing with Aikawa while Takahiro chuckled along. He and Minami were holding hands, and occasionally she would sort of bump against him, the physical contact purely innocent but oddly intimate at the same time.

Did Akihiko have a crush on Manami then? But no, Misaki had never seen them together. What he had seen a lot of was Akihiko paying ridiculous amounts of attention to Takahiro though, and a thought bubbled up. Takahiro had never seen Akihiko's attention as anything but platonic, but he had been treated in a remarkably affectionate way and responded in kind, with a caring friendship and childish nicknames. It was almost certain that Akihiko knew he had no chance, but Takahiro had accidentally strung him along despite this – what self-respecting teenaged boy called another 'Usagi-chan' without it meaning something? As much as Misaki didn't particularly like Akihiko, he wasn't a bad person and definitely didn't deserve to look as miserable as he did right then.

Misaki struggled to find words that might comfort the older boy, and accidentally blurted out, "Usagi-san…"

Immediately that gaze sharpened and swung down to focus on him, eyes briefly narrowed in consideration.

"Uh, sorry, I didn't mean to say that! Sorry!" Misaki backtracked furiously, struggling to shove his borrowed book into his bag so he could flee. A heavy hand scrubbing his hair stopped him and he looked up gingerly to find Akihiko smiling down at him weakly.

"You can call me that. I quite like it."

"You're sure?" stuttered Misaki.

"Absolutely certain," said Akihiko firmly. He already looked a little cheerier, and Misaki sought for find something else to seal the deal.

"I won't be able to make the tutorial this afternoon," he said, "But I'll make up for it tomorrow and bring you lunch? I noticed you don't eat lunch very often." He blushed. "Not that I've been watching you of course, that would be weird!"

"You can watch me all you want, Misaki," rumbled Usagi-san – and damn it, the cutesy nickname did suit him in some unexplainable fashion. "Thank you, I would really appreciate that."

The blush remained, somehow cloying up Misaki's throat so he couldn't speak and insist that he wasn't watching the older student at all, he really wasn't weird or anything, and so he didn't manage to respond before the bell went, and Hiroki and Nowaki had to stop their bickering and part ways. Kamijou stormed off, dragging Usagi-san with him; but not before Usagi-san caught hold of one of Misaki's hands and gave it a brief squeeze.

Misaki waved goodbye in a slightly startled fashion as Kamijou fully towed his classmate away, and found himself wishing that the brief amount of contact had been much longer. Usagi-san's hand had been cold and strong, his slim fingers holding a surprising amount of grip.

It took a lot of effort to shake himself out of his reverie, so he could put his book away and run for class. He really had enough problems in his life without Usami Akihiko adding to the mix.

It had been a generally flustering day for Misaki so far – what with having to deal with a tearful and then irritable Shinobu in class, and then finding himself being actively sought out by Usami Akihiko at lunchtime. The older student hadn't sat with them, but he had leant down over Misaki just as he was about to take a mouthful of his bento and had actually stolen the food off the fork. Misaki had used that fork only moments before, and he had almost been able to sense Shinobu's glee at his embarrassment.

"Thanks for the food," the upperclassman had said as he had sauntered off just as suddenly ashe had arrived.

Bubbling over with embarrassment, Misaki had leapt up and half shrieked at the other young man, "Usagi-san! You idiot!" But the complaints had died on his lips when Akihiko had partially swivelled around in his steps and given Misaki the brightest smile he had ever seen, a properly happy laugh spilling from his lips before he continued on his way. Misaki had just tucked himself back down into his seat and started eating again, desperately trying to quell the crimson blush on his cheeks.

All through the rest of the day, Shinobu had badgered him about the incident, trying to goad him into some sort of confession and distracting Misaki from asking awkward questions about what had happened to him in the library. Misaki had staunchly resisted outwardly, but inside his brain was ticking over quickly. Well, if he was brutally, brutally honest, Usami Akihiko was all kinds of attractive… Of course the boy was also a complete asshole, but he had his moments of kindness too… He had walked Misaki home quite a few times, even though his house was in the total opposite direction, and he always praised his student whenever Misaki got something right. And he was intensely nice to Takahiro, when people tended to take advantage of Misaki's brother's naivety.

By the end of the day, Misaki had talked himself in and out of having a crush on Usagi-san at least four times, but he had finally settled on a reluctant acceptance. Not that that meant he would admit that to Shinobu of course.

And now, after everyone had finished their after school clubs and gone home, here he was, sitting in an otherwise empty classroom and hoping he hadn't gotten the wrong place. Thankfully, moments after he began to consider going to stand in the corridor, the door opened and Shinobu clattered in. He was still in his baseball getup and looked windswept and rosy from exertion.

"You couldn't look any more like a newbie," he said, dropping his bags to the floor with a clatter and sinking into a seat beside Misaki. "Arriving early…" He shook his head in mock disappointment. "Didn't you have your cooking club?"

Misaki flushed and said, "I did, but I asked to leave early." His blush deepened as Shinobu started to laugh at him. "I wasn't going to be the idiot who turns up last and gets in extra trouble for it! I don't know how this works!"

Before Shinobu could continue to mock him, thankfully the door opened again, and a small stream of people entered. There was Nowaki in his baseball uniform, and the ever scowling Kamijou still wearing his kendo getup, followed by Miyagi and… Oh god… Misaki cowered down into his seat and turned his attention to the window in the hope that the last entry wouldn't spot him. Usagi-san was still in his school uniform, the one that had clearly been tailored to fit him better because no one could look that good otherwise, holding a well-thumbed library book and reading a passage intently as Miyagi compared it to another. He was so focused on the book that Kamijou had to pull out a chair for him to sit on, and didn't even glance up when the door slammed back against the wall and a teacher marched in.

Beside him, Misaki heard Shinobu grumble, "Oh, not him…" as the teacher stopped at the head of the class and surveyed them all with a grim expression. It was Igarashi -sensei, a PE teacher who was well known for dancing on the edge between harsh and downright cruel. It was rumoured that he had once suspended a pupil by the ankles with the gym ropes for misbehaving in class, and you could hear the man screaming at his chosen victims from several classrooms away. It didn't help that he was a big man, who had clearly once been trim and fit but was now running to fat, and knew how to throw his weight around.

"Usami!" he roared, pointing a stubby finger at the boy in question. "Get your nose out of that book and pay attention!"

As if stirred from a dream, Usagi-san closed the book slowly and set it down. Igarashi-sensei glowered at him for a second but then appeared to decide that it wasn't worth another bollocking and moved on.

"Right, you lot, you've all got a week's worth of detention, right?"

There was a wave of muttered, unhappy agreement.

"Yeah, bitch about it all you want, it's still happening. Your punishment is to help with the preparations for the Halloween festival next Wednesday." A smile crossed his face. "And it won't be the fun jobs either, lads. Today, we'll be starting with cleaning the place up, and after that we'll be moving on to construction work. Maybe some manual labour will knock some sense into you." He slapped a piece of paper down on Misaki's desk. "Sign in on the register and then I'll assign you places to go."

Misaki scribbled his name down, gritting his teeth when Igarashi-sensei scoffed and repeated, "Misaki? Nice name, kid."

Igarashi-sensei followed the register around the room, giving short nods to Shinobu, Nowaki and Hiroki, steering well clear of Miyagi and then locking onto Usagi-san.

"Well, well, our resident prince finds himself in detention once again. How many times this term is it, Usami?"

"I try not to keep a count," said Usagi-san coldly.

"No, that would be beneath you, wouldn't it," sneered the teacher, snatching the register away. "You'll be outside, clearing up the leaves and rubbish from the grounds. Take…" He glanced around the room until his eyes lit on Misaki. "Take Takahashi with you. The brooms and rubbish bags are in the cleaner's store, and if I spot either of you slacking then there will be hell to pay! Go on."

Avoiding Shinobu's slightly manic leer, Misaki grabbed his coat and slouched after Usagi-san into the hallway. There they stood in silence for a few moments, until Usagi-san sighed and said, "So, do you know where the cleaner's store is?"

"Um, first floor, next to the nurses' station," said Misaki, having to take a few skipping steps to keep up with the older boy's long strides when he set off for the stairs. "You didn't know?"

"Never had to use it." Akihiko gave him a brief over the shoulder look. "Have you had to?"

Misaki laughed nervously and said, "Once. We were making doughnuts in cooking club, and I dropped a big bottle of oil for the deep frying, and it went everywhere."

"Hmm."

As it turned out, Usami Akihiko had a talent for creating the sort of silences that Misaki just couldn't resist filling with anxious chatter. He talked as they fetched the brushes and bags, as they walked through the school and as they went outside to the concrete playground that the school used for all its events. Wind was whistling sharply in the distant trees now, gaining speed as it rolled across the flat of the sports pitches before it rocked up against the back of the building where they stood.

Misaki shuddered and did up all the buttons on his coat, struggling to hold the broom and rubbish bags at the same time, surveying the area glumly. There wasn't much rubbish, but there were a lot of leaves – it was autumn after all – and there were still a great many just waiting to fall off the trees.

"We might as well get started," said Usagi-san, solemnly. "Since we're never going to get this done."

They decided to pick up the rubbish first, scurrying around the playground to catch wrappers and paper that the wind kept just inches from their fingertips. Usagi-san spent ten minutes trying to scoop up an abandoned newspaper, and only succeeded in the end by physically throwing himself at it in a full body tackle.

When they finally managed to get the last of the rubbish into a bag, they dropped it by the side of the building and took a minute to huddle in the shelter out of the wind. Before this could have any sort of restorative effect, though, Igarashi-sensei stuck his head out of a window on the second floor and howled at them to stop slacking. Grudgingly they grabbed a brush each and set out on opposite sides of the playground to attempt to clear up the leaves.

Akihiko had never liked autumn; he felt it was a season that sought to actively conspire against him. The winds mussed his fine hair into tangles, the cold had that piercing quality that bit through all layers of clothes as it sought to remind you what it felt like, the weather changed at the drop of a hat, never into anything pleasant. And this was the season he was named for!

Across the playground, Misaki was making manful headway on corralling leaves into rubbish bags, while Akihiko was frankly struggling to use the bloody brush. He always admired people that knew how to do these sorts of things, mostly because he was so woeful at it, and Takahashi Misaki was proving himself to be very admirable indeed.

The wound that Takahiro had left behind was still very fresh and still throbbed at every new sighting of the boy and his girlfriend, but if his life so far had taught Akihiko anything, it was how to be resilient. Sometimes his ability to move on scared even him – he'd caught himself daydreaming about Misaki at least twice today, as well as on a couple previous days. His affection for Takahiro had been long standing and intense, and he still wasn't free of it entirely, but this new attraction seemed even stronger in its infancy. There was just something about Takahashi Misaki that made him happy.

"Usagi-san!" The new nickname called him out of his reverie, and Akihiko looked about to find Misaki scowling at him. "It's not fair if you stand about daydreaming while I do the work!"

"Sorry, sorry." Akihiko glowered at his brush again and then laid about a small pile of leaves with it. Perhaps technique could be replaced with enthusiasm?

As it turned out, this wasn't entirely correct, but through one method or another the pair of them managed to clear the whole playground within a couple hours. They piled the full bags by one of the walls, and, as Misaki just tied the last one shut, Igarashi-sensei appeared. He stormed over to them and stopped to survey their handiwork grimly.

"Not bad. You'll have to do it again before the festival though, of course."

"Of course," said Akihiko sourly. Already, new leaves were clustering at the edge of the sports pitches, ready to make a attack on the concrete as soon as they left.

"You've missed something though." The teacher tutted, and Akihiko wondered just exactly how much trouble he'd get in for punching the man in the throat. "You should get that, Usami."

Another gust of wind caught the offending object, and whirled it high in the air. Akihiko's heart sank slightly as he realised it was that bloody newspaper, the one that had led him on that wild goose chase not long before. The damned thing had escaped from the rubbish bag and now looked set to lead him on another embarrassing chase.

Thankfully, though, the wind died sharply as Akihiko approached it, enabling him to snatch it up just before another gust struck. Igarashi -sensei had the gall to actually look disappointed, and Akihiko decided to rub it in a bit by correctly folding the paper out and scanning the first page as he strolled back.

It was a rather sensationalist headline, he thought, compared to those he'd seen on his father's much drier papers. 'TOKYO RIVER MURDERER STRIKES AGAIN' it screamed, accompanied by a bright picture of police tape blocking off a small bridge.

"Take your time, Usami, please do!" roared Igarashi -sensei, fists clenching in annoyance and face starting to turn a remarkable shade of fuchsia.

Akihiko tucked the paper under his arm and strolled back a little faster, in case Igarashi-sensei exploded with anger. Never mind this river murderer, Akihiko had other problems.

So that was a loooong chapter. I don't think the others will be so long, but I wanted to get everyone into their school life settings.

In case anyone's confused as to ages and things:

Grade 12 – 17-18 year olds – Miyagi, Isaka, Asahina, Haruhiko.

Grade 11 – 16-17 year olds – Akihiko, Hiroki, Nowaki, Minami, Aikawa.

Grade 10 – 15-16 year olds – Misaki, Shinobu, Todo, Sumi.

Obviously I've had to jerk ages around a lot to make it work, but I hope no one cares about that. Anyway, this should be updated everyday until Halloween, because this is horror story country! I'm going to creep you out as much as possible!