Authors Note:
KHR and all the other goodies that will appear here soon don't belong to me. There's not enough begging in the world that would make it so, and therefore, the reason why I and the rest write fanfics.
I know I haven't written a single blessed word in a long while. And instead of boring you with the usual complaints regarding the pressure of my other (real, employed, and often frustrating) life, or regale you with the sad, tragic fact that I lost my net connection for months due to miscommunication and lousy service—why don't I just tell you that there comes a time when NO WORDS come calling or knocking around and so there really isn't going to be ANY writing that could occur during said times.
That being said, I have no idea how this thing came to life. It just did. And so, like any good creature of creation when smiled upon by their fickle Muse, I decided to give in and runaway with the idea while it's still there. Much better fate than simply ignoring it and then living to regret it.
That being said, I hope you'll enjoy this ride. Well! MY first fic in 2015!
Day One:
BROWN IS THE COLOR OF DEATH
Good judgment comes from experience,
And experience-well, that comes from poor judgment.
Anonymous
There often are times in one's life when absolutes are made and certainties are proven. Times when life shows you that the universe is filled with undeniable truths and irrefutable tenets in which you must concede and live by.
And for as long as she would live Kumiko Sawada-Yamaguchi would forever associate the color brown to the color of chaos.
Now, usually, chaos would require more bold color than the mundane, safe hue that is brown. And truthfully, Yamaguchi-sensei used to believe this fact too, because once upon a time, she thought red was the color of chaos and change and chances. After all, it was red that brought to her side a means to continue on the future. Brown, unlike red, after all doesn't call to mind anything dangerous, certainly no hue could be less so, being so soft and warm and safe.
Brown, all things considered, reminds most people of the newly-turned earth and the color of the moist mud where children played right after summer's rain. Brown is the sweet potatoes bought from street peddlers. Brown is also the color of it's the color of one of the most sinful concoctions ever created by man—chocolate.
No, brown isn't especially threatening or even alarming. Yet for this school year's resident of Namimori High, they might as well revise and review everything they ever wrote or said or thought about the color brown. Because this year, three certain brunets in her class would prove that brown could very well be indeed the color of danger.
It began with the one that walked—no not walked—stalked into the room like some barely leashed creature from the wild cackling softly from behind a small black notebook clutched in front of his face by a hand with unusually long fingers, head barely visible enough to reveal reddish-brown hair spiked up like some rabid porcupine. The way he wore his uniform was barely passing regulation and his ears were pierced from lobes up to its very tip. He was also ridiculously skinny and taller than the average freshmen that came through her door.
Huh, guess that makes passing through the metal detectors pretty damned inconvenient. Wonder how many minutes it takes to remove them.
"Morning. You belong to this class kid?"
She had to ask seeing as how the room was still empty and the rest of the student body and the members of the faculty were dutifully attending the Entrance Ceremony.
Barely acknowledging her query whether he belonged to her class, the boy stared at her for half a second with icy blue-grey eyes, cocked an eyebrow and pointed with a finger (yes, that finger) towards the sign hanging just by the door's threshold before dumping his bag into one of the tables at the back and hooked his long legs around his chairs spire to drag it close before perching on it much like a lounging hyena, occasionally cackling with the same eerie snicker.
Weird kid. Oh well, one weirdo per class wouldn't hurt none.
Unruffled, she turned towards the door and waited and noted that five minutes after the assembly ended another figure stood stock still by the sliding door, simply watching both her and the room's other occupant with an intense, assessing gaze.
This newer addition was slight, skin paler than alabaster and hair that could only be called chestnut cut in an oddly feminine wedge that skimmed his well-shaped jaw. His features were beautifully rendered, bordering on the patrician, his cute button nose and pouty lip saving his face from becoming nauseatingly perfect.
He gave small bow, inclining his head politely towards her and murmuring in a smooth, mellifluous voice a simple greeting.
"Good morning, Sensei."
"Morning. First or Last?"
"First or last what, Sensei?"
A small smile and a raised eyebrow followed suit. Really, what's with the freshmen and their eyebrows? Snorting rather indelicately, she replied. "Name. You tell me now and we won't have issues later. Tell me your preference."
"Ah, of course."
A nod and a small smile graced full lips, dewy and pouty and terribly distracting in someone so young and appealing. She could feel her maternal instincts just fluttering at the sight of the boy that she almost missed his amused response.
"How utterly diplomatic of you, Sensei."
Pinning the younger one with a look, she reached up and adjusted her glasses before muttering. "So? Choice? I haven't got all day, kid."
"Of course. Forgive me. First. Kei."
"Kei huh. Alright, we'll do formal introductions later. Pick a seat while we wait for the others then."
The class was already half-way to being filled when there was a loud boom followed by an announcement through the PA system that one of the school's sprinkling system suddenly exploded and warned the students to stay in their room while maintenance deals with the problem.
Yamaguchi Kumiko-Sensei was about to start checking attendance when her ears caught the tell-tale squeak of rubber soles burning in rapid acceleration across well-waxed wooden floors.
Her final student for the day burst into the room at a dead run as if the hounds of hell were chasing after him. He collapsed on the floor, panting and gasping like a single strong gust of wind would knock him into a coma.
"You alright?"
The figure currently gasping and heaving like a dying mutt on her classroom floor gave her an apologetic grimace and nod from behind disheveled autumn locks. Eyes the color of the heavens during sunset focused desperately on her face even as thin, peach-pale lips wheezed apologetically.
"Sorry for the inconvenience Sensei."
"What the hell happened to you?"
"Uhm, that."
"That?"
"Hell, I think. Sorry."
"Hell huh? Fine, so first or last kid?"
Kid? "First or last what Sensei?"
"Name. Spit it out, we haven't got all day."
The kid gave her a shy smile and for a moment she got lost in the brilliance of those unusually lambent orange-gold eyes even as her ears caught his soft, slightly hesitant answer.
"Yoshinobu, but I'd like it very much if you call me Shin."
This time, it was her eyebrows that gave in to the urge to rise cockily. "Shin, huh?"
Yep. Without a single doubt, Kumiko Sawada-Yamaguchi, homeroom adviser of Namimori High Class I-C pondered the very real case that, for this newest school year—her class would definitely consider brown as the color for chaos, danger and disaster. And she wouldn't want it any other way.
