Why the hell does it have to be pastel yellow? Seriously, what was wrong with the navies and blacks used in other schools' uniforms? Why this shade of congealing custard?
Hibiki glared at her reflection as she held her new school's proposed uniform against her front. It was no use, the damn thing completely washed her of colour, the yellow making her look pasty. She didn't have that much to work with in the first place.
She sighed, tossing the dress back onto her bed. It didn't fit her anyway, too small in the shoulders. She'd have to take it back to the tailor's at some point. She couldn't help but smile at that, anywhere else would have had the basic school shop. Not this place, with its small platoon of tailors and seamstresses.
Hibiki huffed and flopped backwards onto the bed, staring listlessly at the ceiling. This pattern was getting old, really old. Move to wherever Father was stationed, enrol, start classes, get mocked, get ignored, move again. It had been the same for the last year and a half. She'd sat through 9 different interviews, eaten in 9 different cafeterias, received 9 sets of 'Welcome' ambushes from the established school thugs. It had better be different this time. Ought to be, this place had offered the option of boarding.
Now she was in an apartment usually reserved for foreign teaching assistants, in an institution that resembled the Vatican, awaiting the arduous process of her segregation, otherwise known as classes to start tomorrow on Monday.
Hibiki huffed again and closed her eyes and proceeded to try and talk herself out of her bad mood. This place was a good school, specialising in international relations and history and literature and, well, everything it seemed. She'd seen some of the various facilities on her wanders over the last few days, under the guidance of the school's Chairman. That had impressed her. She knew Father had contacts, but to be shown round by the man who runs the place?
There was potential here, she kept telling herself, there was potential. There were specialised staff to help her if she needed, she could finish secondary school here without having to follow Father's work around, she had an array of extra-curricular activities to amuse herself, heck she effectively had her own flat. These could be the best years of her life.
Well it could be guaranteed, if it weren't for her fellow students. She hadn't met any yet but what she had seen from a distance filled her with dread. To start with there seemed to be two breeds of girl; the gigglers and the glarers as she'd dubbed them in her head. One half all beaming, groundless smiles which didn't quite reach the eyes every time. The other walked in icy silences, moving in packs like wolves, only decidedly less aesthetically pleasing, never saying a word. All rather standard, nothing she hadn't seen or handled before.
The men on the other hand, they seemed new. The clichés she'd seen boys slot into since she was 12 didn't seem to apply here. She didn't know if it was the fact she was observing from a distance but they all seem to act a little older than they were meant to be, already in the proverbial suits and ties. They were all men in boys' bodies rather than boys trying to be men. All a little strange really.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the top corner of the door swing away from the frame. Sighing, again, Hibiki strained her neck to look over at the doorway. Milo's dark head appear around the door, patient eyes finding her and staring pointedly at her. Hibiki groaned and rolled over on her side. She didn't want to go, didn't want to venture out there, didn't want to go find this 3rd year that had been shackled with her. He probably didn't know he had either. Nope, she was just going to lie here and ignore the growing pain in her stomach which reminded her that she hadn't eaten since yesterday lunchtime. So when the combined efforts of Milo tugging on her sleeve and the acid in the stomach all but eating its way through the muscle wall, she didn't rise with good grace.
Glowering, she snatched an envelope and a hand drawn map up off the desk opposite her bed, scanning it quickly to remind herself of her destination. West wing, second floor, third music room. Right. Giving her reflection a quick evaluation and deciding she had neither the time, patience nor heavy duty equipment to make herself look presentable, Hibiki stuffed her feet into her boots and stuffed the letter and map into the breast pocket of her shirt. Milo was waiting calmly by the door, watching the room's inhabitant stomp delicately towards the door. She wrenched it open and held it as Milo slipped out in front of her, turning his dark head to observe the corridor before moving off ahead of her. Hibiki shut the door and locked it, stowing her keys in the back pocket of her jeans. She leaned against the shut door for a second, letting her eyes slip close. Against her better judgement, she was going to give this place a good shot, she was going to try and make this work. Somehow. Growling she pulled out the map again and set off down the corridor. This Morinozuka character better be ready for this.