West P.O.V.
I stretch lazily in the bed as rays of sunlight shine on my pale face. It's too early for this.
My name is West, I am nineteen years old.
I have classes in an hour, so I put on a pair of black jeans and a white tank top. I can't believe I'm so poor that I can't afford clothes. This wouldn't have happened if my parents were around. But they're not. They were arrested for treason. I wonder why I wasn't too. Britannians are so full of themselves, I regret having their blood run through my veins. I put on black combat boots and light mascara and head out of the door.
The streets are full.
I walk in the direction of the university. It's a small private institution which is rather hard to get into. It primarily focuses on sciences. After Japan's liberation lots of Britannian professors remained and tried to adjust their methods of teaching to the new curriculum. I sigh as I walk into the building and head to class.
I sit next to a black haired boy. Lots of girls are head over heels for him. But I'm not like that. I'm different than the other girls.
"I like your hair," I heard him say. I cringed. "It's pretty."
"Thanks", I mumble.
Why did he talk to me? I take a closer look at his face. It looks painfully familiar. But before I could finish the thought the professor walks in and class starts.