Walking through the hallways of Hakone Academy, Arakita grumbled as he shuffled his ways past a plethora of students. Morning practice had been grueling and, despite the cool rinse off he'd had afterward, the cyclist was still in no mood to interact with anyone more than necessary. The scowl that was set onto his face was directed in the direction of anyone who dared to give him a passing glance, effectively scaring them off from the moody teen. There was still chatter going on everywhere however and, much to Arakita's annoyance, he couldn't do anything to stop that problem.

After having stopped by his locker for a quick moment to pick up his needed books, Arakita trudged on his way to his classroom. On any normal day the class would only be half full by the time he got there, leaving him enough time for at least some peace and quiet before another difficult day in class began. Usually he'd like to spend the minutes before class at his seat, eyes closed and mind unfocused as he tried to sneak in a few more minutes of sleep. Unfortunately for the cyclist, today was not one of those normal days.

Upon opening the door to his classroom, Arakita was met face to face with the sight of over half his class already inside. Confused for a moment, he glanced over at the clock on the wall, confirming that he was indeed still a little early to class. He would have shrugged off the unusual occasion for something that happened only once in a blue moon, but the amount of noise his classmates were making and the way they were all crowded around one seat in particular—the seat next to his—told him that something else was off about today. Curiosity officially peaked, Arakita slinked his way through the small crowd of students to see what all the hubbub was about. Those who saw him coming moved out of the way, allowing him access to the person who had been stealing all the attention in class.

"Oh, Arakita, good morning!"

Glancing down at the girl seated in her desk, Arakita found his curiosity about the crowd lessening only to be replaced by even more unanswered questions. The girl sitting in the desk, who was currently ignoring one of her friends fussing over her, was waving at him in greeting. With her non-dominant hand.

"What the hell happened to you, [Name]," he asked gruffly.

Pushing a few people out of his way, Arakita plopped himself down into his seat beside her, dropping his bag next to him with an audible thud. His eyes were directed at her—or rather, her dominant arm—as he eyed out the thick cast that encased it. Already a few of their classmates had scrawled messages onto the off-white plaster in colorful permanent marker and Arakita could make out short messages of 'get well soon's and 'I hope you feel better's.

Realizing that the group conversation was over as [Name] had already begun shifting her full attention to the dark haired cyclist, the group of classmates slowly dispersed. Only some of [Name]'s closest friends stuck nearby, but they didn't bother to interrupt the conversation she was having with her seatmate.

"I got into an accident during club activities and broke a bone in my arm," she explained, lifting her injury slightly for emphasis. Despite the furrow in her brows that told him she was upset at herself for getting hurt, there was still a persistent smile on her face. "The doctor said it'll probably take a couple of months to heal."

"Idiot, why can't you ever stay out of trouble?" In spite of the rude words, Arakita's tone of voice softened just slightly as he watched the way [Name]'s arm trembled as she placed it gently back onto her desk. Her only response to his rude question was a movement in her shoulders that somewhat resembled a half-assed shrug.

Rolling his eyes as a final retort, Arakita leaned back in his seat and turned his gaze away from [Name], effectively ending the short conversation. He didn't need any further details and, noticing that her seatmate had lost interest, [Name] returned to her conversation with her friends who were impatiently standing around. She would have plenty of time to tell Arakita the gruesome details of her injury later that day when they were eating lunch together.

With the conversation ended and Arakita leaning back in his chair for some before-class relaxation, the dark haired cyclist tried to rest his eyes for a bit. This task proved fruitless however, because every time he found himself nodding off, his eyes would wander and end up fixating themselves on the colorfully signed cast on [Name]'s arm. He knew how frustrating it could be getting an injury from doing something you enjoy and he also knew how difficult the recovery afterward could be. It didn't help her situation at all that she had just so happened to injure her dominant arm, essentially making her hand useless as well. There were going to be plenty of things—easy things—that she would have to relearn how to do just to survive the next few months ahead.

Noticing his stare, [Name] waved her good hand in front of his eyes to gain Arakita's full attention before asking, "Is there something you needed, Arakita?"

Flushing slightly from having been caught mid-stare, Arakita masked his gaffe with a scoffing snort. "Yeah, I need you to cover up that damn arm of yours," he countered, waving a hand flippantly in her direction. "Those bright colors from all the markers are starting to give me a headache."

It was going to be a long, vexing next couple of months.