Author's Note: Well, hello, everyone! First of all, thanks for clicking on this story! If you just want to get reading, you can just skip this AN. :P If you're someone who's read my past KnB stories, an extra thanks to you, and it's with great pleasure that I finally bring you my Akashi/OC story! This one has been in the works for a long time, and hopefully, you'll enjoy it.

So, a few notes. First, I don't own KnB or its characters. Just my OCs and the plot. :) Second, like most of my stories, this one is completely written. I'm actually still working on editing some last-minute things, but I have the general story down, so there shouldn't be any problems with me finishing posting it. (Posting the first chapter now is just me trying to motivate myself to finish the editing process lol. I will, of course, let you know if I decide to change anything big.)

If you've read my last KnB story, Contradictory, then this story will be similar because it has two pairings and dual POVs. This time, we're going with Akashi/OC (of course) . . . and Ogiwara/OC. I didn't plan on doing this at first, but I'd overestimated my ability to write Akashi (who I believe is the most complicated character in KnB), and so I added Ogiwara's storyline to . . . lighten some stuff up. But don't worry, there won't be a lot of drama/angst in this story since that's not my style.

And you've probably noticed, but my author notes can get long . . . sorry! I personally think it's cool when authors explain their though processes and behind the scenes stuff, but if you don't, feel free to go on to the story!

Chapter 1 — Mitsuri

When I tilt my head, I can see the picture's flaws.

His eyes are off. They appear crooked, one larger than the other, giving him a crazed look. The corners of my lips rise, amused and unpleased at the same time. I've always been terrible at balancing my drawings.

I rip the piece of paper from my notebook, crumple it up, and toss it into the nearby trash can. It was my second attempt at drawing this particular character and to no avail. A dead end, it seems. I have everything else about to perfection — his hair, a bit spiky and falling in waves on his forehead; the smooth angles of his cheeks; the height of his body, the length of his arms. But I can't figure out his eyes. I've tried widening them, angling them, spreading them apart, but nothing seems right. And whenever I seem right on the edge of something, I always mess up the second eye, ruining the whole thing.

I should just give up on this character.

But something attracts me to him. I want to draw him — I want to complete the image I see in my head. The image of a proud leader, with a fierce confidence, a vivid imagination, and a quest to see all those he loves safe and cared for.

His reality is one I want to see come alive.

"Mitsuri-chan."

I shake my head from my dreams and look up from my notebook, another blank page facing me. My grandmother has entered my room, quiet as usual, her gentle voice announcing her presence.

"Yes?" I say, closing the notebook and placing it on my nightstand.

"Your sister is finally coming home today, yes?"

"That's right." My stomach twists at the thought. Her plane comes in this afternoon. Grandma and Grandpa had offered to pick her up in a taxi, but apparently, she'd refused. I guess that after traveling so many different countries, you hardly feel worried in your own.

Grandma smiles. "It will be nice to see her again," she says.

"Right . . ."

For Grandma, it's not just pleasantry. She's truly excited to see my sister, Reiha, come home. But I have a feeling that the happy reunion she imagines might not come to fruition.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready for school?" she asks, looking toward the clock.

"I was just about to get dressed."

Drawing before classes always calms my mind down so I can face the day. My therapy, if you will. Not like I have anything to be stressed about — though, today I may need to be calm more than usual.

I reach toward the coin on my desk, a five yen, and finger it over in my palm three times. I try to think of some question to ask, but I have no decision facing me. I flip it anyway, and it lands heads, the side with the flowers. Maybe that's a sign.

Forty-five minutes later, I'm on my way to school for my second year at Rakuzan, a prestigious high school in the Kyōto area. It's early in the first semester, and the cherry trees are still in bloom, scattering the pathway, a soft pink blanket.

The closer I get to Rakuzan, the more light gray uniforms I see. Most students are still excited about the start of the school year. They're loud, bumping into each other, friendly touches. I walk alone. In middle school, I used to trail close to other parties so it would look like I was part of their group, but I stopped that once I realized how pathetic it was when they never even turned around to acknowledge me.

I am fine on my own.

Although Rakuzan is a difficult school to get into, and its coursework proves that, during my first year of high school, I coasted through with moderate ease. The teachers and student body alike are brilliant, and I enjoyed the hard work it provided me. I devoted myself to my studies, and so I rarely ever participated in the social side of the school other than my after-school club. That was fine with me. No one ever noticed me, and no one invited me to anything — I suppose you could say that was how I wanted it. I had confidence in myself and my abilities, but I hated the unpredictability of others. A year of invisibility where I could just focus on myself and my studies was like a dream.

Even being invisible, though, is tiresome.

"Akashi-san has really grown, hasn't he?"

"Is it just me, or has he changed a bit from last year? It's like he's matured . . . well, I mean, he's always been more mature than the other boys, but now he seems even more like an adult. I find that quite attractive."

"Well, you know, my boyfriend's on the basketball team, and he said that he's been so much more relaxed lately! It's like he —"

I am used to the daily whispers and rumors. The fact that they are about Akashi Seijūrō is not surprising either. Student body president, captain of the basketball team, possibly professional shōgi player, and who knows what else . . . Akashi is the most famous student on campus. He's the type of person that appears to coast through life on a red carpet; everything comes easy to him, and nothing daunts him.

I've only spoken to him once before, when he'd visited the debate club's room. At first, I was scared that he was there to observe our club and possibly terminate it, since that was well within his power. At the time, we had no credentials to our name, and there were only two other members. I believe we were actually more so arguing at that time (a touchy topic I don't remember the details of) when he first walked in. Akashi didn't add any opinion of his, just told us to continue as normal, but at the end of the hour, he approached me.

"You're a first-year, Kasayama-san?"

"Y-yes!" I squeaked out.

"And you're the club president?"

"That's right."

"Impressive," he said. "I expect this club will be a success."

I had wanted to tell Akashi that I thought his position was impressive, too. Being school president and captain of the basketball team must be so much more taxing than just arguing every week, but he left without another word.

Rakuzan, despite being known for its more conservative schooling, encourages students to participate in multiple clubs. In order for students to handle the workload, most clubs won't meet every day (unless you're a demanding sports club), instead assuming a more lax type of group. As one of the lesser-known clubs, debate falls into this category. When I'd first entered Rakuzan, I'd wanted to join a club for my college applications and was surprised to see that they had no debate club. Apparently, it was active a few years ago, but all their members graduated, and no one had wanted to revive it. So, as debate was something I was interested in, I made it my goal to bring it back to life. Although it was tough securing a faculty advisor and gaining members, at the end of the year, we had eight members (including myself) and would meet once a week to partake in heavy discussions that would often extend for hours. I never joined another club after debate, no other activities interesting me. I did consider the art club, but my drawing was always something much more private to me, and I didn't want others to see it.

As we're only a week into the new school year, I have yet to set up a time for the club to reconvene. Part of me is scared that no one will show up, even the previous members who'd seemed committed, and another part of me is nervous because last year, now that the club was more established, there had been talks of going to actual tournaments. But . . . Akashi saw something.

Sometimes, I find my one experience with Akashi Seijūrō strange. And sometimes, I do not at all. Since I am the invisible girl, I listen a lot more than people think, and the rumors are ripe around Rakuzan, especially when it concerns Akashi. It seems like I'm not the only one he has brief, calculating conversations with.

Akashi Seijūrō is a mystery to many — maybe all. But I suppose that's what makes him so interesting.

The school day ends with nothing extraordinary happening. Not that I'd expected anything out of the usual to occur — no, anything exciting that's going to happen will happen later this evening.

But then, as I gather up my things and enter the hallway toward the stairs, a certain red-headed boy approaches me.

A face no one would mistake. Eyes no one would forget.

Looking at him, with him staring straight at me, business clear on his agenda, I have a sudden epiphany — the eyes of the character I have been so desperately trying to draw . . . they have been so close . . . they have been here all along.

Because if Akashi Seijūrō's eyes aren't perfect, then what are?

"Kasayama Mitsuri," he says.

I blink a few times, realizing I'd been gazing altogether too hard into his eyes. He doesn't seem put off, though. Nothing ever seems to unhinge him. "Yes?" I say.

"I heard you're going to enter the debate club into tournaments," he says.

I have no idea where he heard that, but I suppose it's not surprising considering how involved he is in everything.

"That's — well, it was just a thought. It would be nice to have some credentials to our name."

"Of course. When do you plan to have your first meeting?"

Why does he ask? He doesn't want to join, does he? He can't be thinking of that — he must already have so much going on. . . . He must just be polite . . . or maybe he asks this about all the clubs.

"I . . . I really haven't thought of it," I confess. "I've just been getting into the school routine. I was waiting for things to settle down before establishing a time."

"That is probably wise," he says. "Let me know when you've set a time. I would like to attend."

And just like last time, he turns around and leaves without another word.

My breath catches. There had been a few people watching us — because people watch Akashi wherever he goes. But none seem to have overheard what we were saying, which is probably a good thing. (I suspect people might come to the club simply because Akashi is, and I wouldn't want halfhearted participants.)

Trying to calm my thoughts, I clamp my hand around my bag's strap, straighten myself, and steel myself for the other impossible event going on in my life. Something that will undoubtedly serve to cause me more trouble than Akashi attending a club meeting.

My sister's return.

I have not seen Reiha in two years, and even then, that was just a brief visit. It would be more accurate to say I haven't really been with her since we were eight years old. At that time, our parents decided to divorce. As children, it seemed so sudden, but now, when I think back at it, I can remember flashes of late-night arguments and silent treatments that would last for days. Dad and Mom both fought for custody, but in the end, Mom, supported by her parents, our only grandparents, got both of us,.

If that wasn't enough to break up our family, Mom then declared that she wanted to travel the world. It seemed that, now that she was finally free of Dad, she wanted to do all the things she couldn't before. Our first stop: America.

I remember the fear of flying for the first time. The strange new scents that made up an atmosphere entirely different from Japan. Wild colors and overlapping accents. If I tried, I could probably remember specifics. But I didn't spend enough time in the States to form any concrete memories, and so my impressions remain fragmented and incomplete.

Because I hated it. Being away from the comfort of Japan, a language I knew, faces I was familiar with . . . every minute was like torture, making me physically ill. Finally, after seeing that I couldn't handle it, Mom allowed me to stay with her parents in Kyōto, while she and Reiha would continue to travel the globe.

Sometimes, I wish I had fought through it and stayed. Stayed so that I could still have a mother and a sister. But then, when I think of the comforts of home and my grandparents' gentle smiles, I assure myself that that route would have been worse. There's no way I could've made it through.

The last time I saw either of them was at my mom's wedding two years ago. After flying all around the world with Reiha, Mom had found someone she thought she could love again. They chose to settle in America, and the wedding took place at a beach in California. Reiha and I were the bridesmaids, but while we spent the two hectic days side by side, we barely talked. It was as if our closeness as children had evaporated entirely.

It wasn't all that surprising, really. Maybe we would've grown apart even if we'd never been separated. Our personalities were like night and day, after all, and what had kept us together as children was nothing more than blood. At least, that's how I try to view it now.

But then, a few months ago, Mom decided that it was time for Reiha to have a semblance of normality and routine in her teenage years, an actual high school life. She fought tooth and nail, apparently, but Mom wouldn't budge. So now, she is coming home — my sister, my twin, the mirror image of me, but the girl with a personality so different than mine.

Reiha cried when I left. We sent each other emails and postcards, and for a while, it seemed like nothing had changed. But now, I'm not so sure.

There's a rap on the door, and then, before Grandma or I can answer, it's shoved open and a girl stomps in. She carries a bag on her shoulder, a suitcase in her hand, and outside, behind her, I can see more luggage — how much does she own?

Reiha looks a lot like me — well, exactly like me, you could say — but also different. She has the same straight honey-colored hair, though hers is a few inches shorter, and her eyes are the blue hues of the sky. Her skin is tanner than mine, though, and the way she carries herself is entirely different. With confidence, no fear in her steps. She is not invisible in any way — no, she wantsto be seen. And not to just be seen, but to be seen by everyone.

She glances at us, her light eyes passing over Grandpa, then Grandma, and finally alighting upon me. Her suitcase falls to the ground with a thud. I wince. Throwing her shoulder bag to the floor, she says, "So is this the place? It's smaller than I thought it'd be."

"Have some respect!" I blurt out the words without thinking.

Reiha's eyes turn onto me, and her stare suddenly seems icy. I wonder, for a moment, if we really are twins. If I tried, could I look like that? She says, "Is that what you're worried about, sis?"

My heart pounds within my chest.

Last year had been nice. My year of invisibility. But now, I know that this year will be anything but.

A/N: Thanks for reading on past the first paragraph! I'm editing chapter two today, and I'll get that posted now so you can have a taste of both POVs. Otherwise, I usually post a new chapter every one to two weeks. If you guys have any thoughts, comments, criticisms, whatever, please let me know! I love getting reviews. :D

One last note before I go: I don't pretend to know everything about Japanese culture or other things featured in this story. I've taken the liberty to kind of make up stuff as I go, such as Rakuzan's dual-club nature and the debate club. If you see anything that doesn't make sense, or you're like, "that's not how it works . . . ," please forgive me, and feel free to let me know!

Thanks once again for reading! Until next time!

~ J. Dominique