Author's Notes
I've been wanting to write this story for years, and now it just won't stay down. Like a volcano, spewing out all its information in one shot…not that I got it all down. I'm not that fast a typist. I've planned this to be twelve chapters, all Kouji's POV, which should be interesting, especially since the summary only tackles the main issue and not the other stuff that crop up.
On a separate note, if you read my other stories (the longer ones), I've got a poll on my profile, where you can vote for which one you want updated regularly after I get some of the more manageable length ones out of the way. It's blind poll this time because of the disproportionality I got last time, and just because a certain story doesn't get the most votes, doesn't mean it won't be updated. I'm just curious to know what all you readers think.
Okay, enough of that. Enjoy.
The School Project
AU-It all started with a new school, and a certain student. He never talked, never fought back…it was discerning to say the least. Then I was paired in a school project with him, and found out quite a bit about him-including the fact that he was my brother.
Kouji M/Koji & Kouichi K/Koichi
Rating: T
Genre/s: Drama/Family
Chapter 1
The Beginning of it All
If you're looking for my autobiography, go look somewhere else. Actually, on second thought, don't even bother. I'm not the kind of person who puts the details of his life out for publicity's show. You can ask different people, and they'll tell you different things; that's just the way the world works, especially when you're not too in on the whole social network thing. But there are times when these different views can really hurt someone…and that's really why I'm doing this, you know. Sort of, I'm not too good at expressing what I'm feeling.
This isn't even about me. Well…it is, but not in the way you might think. Or you might…I wouldn't know. I'm no psychoanalyst. I don't like them much either, whether they call themselves counsellors or psychologists or psychiatrists, although I've only ever sat and really talked with one (not counting the school counsellors I have to talk to every time I change schools). I won't say it was the worst experience of my life, because it wasn't, but it's certainly not one I'll voluntarily undergo again. There's no such thing as private to them, prying into matters that should be none of their business, taking their 'patient's' mind apart to shatter it into a multitude of pieces to then rebuild it, exposing its entire content in the process. As long as she's helping my brother though, I can tolerate it.
That's what this is really about. My brother. But it's not your usual "how I met my brother" tale. And yes, I do mean "met"; we've, like all twins, have known each other since we were born, but there's a large gap in between through which we both passed, blissfully unaware of each other's existence. Perhaps bliss is the wrong word; it wasn't easy, that's for sure, more so for him than for me. I mean, I lost my mother, but so did he, and a few chances for friends. He lost his home as well, and almost his life.
But it's a long story, and I suppose I'd better start with the first time I met him.
We had moved, again. From Osaka to Jiyugaoka, Shibuya. Dad's job means he has to move around a lot, and that always means a new school, and new people not to get along with. Once a time, I would have tried to get to know people, connect with them, but when you spend little time in one place, you tend to recognise the futility of it all. I wouldn't call it giving up. It's more like taking the outside roads. It's a world you're never going to stay in too long; getting too attached will only bring more pain that you don't want. Koichi was, to be honest, the near opposite extreme. In the end, what matters the most is finding an intermediate, an equilibrium.
The same thing applied to places, just not to that personal depth. Perhaps because places, for all their symbolic meaning, were inanimate. Whatever they were was what you thought of them. They wouldn't just turn around and smack you in the face like people could, completely rewriting your psyche in a matter of years, months, weeks, or in the very rare case, days.
So Dad, his wife Satomi, and I moved into Jiyugaoka, almost at the end of the first semester of my last year at elementary school. My real mother, Dad had told me, died when I was two, of some sort of sickness I could never remember the name of. She is dead, honestly, and she did die because she was sick, but it actually didn't happen till that day, a week after we moved in and sorted out the paperwork, when I first started at Jiyugaoka Elementary. Either way though, Satomi never was and never will be my birthmother. At least now we understand each other better. She hadn't really gotten the chance to know me; I hadn't given it to her. But all that comes later. It began with that first day. For me anyway. After all, the beginning and end of any tale is relative to the person telling it.
Of course, I hadn't known at that point in time. Simply thinking that my first day of school at Jiyugaoka Elementary was going to be like every other first day of school I have been forced to endure in the twelve years of my life, I went in my normal mind-set.
Dad walked me on that first day. For the longest time, I wondered why he would always that. He was hardly ever home after all. Except he always walked me on my first day at any school. Even if at times he was so wrapped up in his cases that he never got the chance to go back. Satomi had wound up having to handle the transfer of enrolments from my last elementary school in Osaka. Dad was between the office and his clients the whole time.
To be honest, I think we've had the typical father-son relationship…relatively. After all, he had needed to raise me himself for six years, adding to the pressure of being a lawyer where everyone was either breathing down your neck or after it. I know one thing from watching him; I am never becoming a lawyer. Ever. Leave that to someone who doesn't have anyone they care for. Because that's a weakness that could one day cost you big time. Especially when you're forced to conform to laws that your heart would fight with all its might. But I'll get to that in due time.
Anyway, Dad walked me. He dropped me off at the office, introduced himself and me, then hurried off to some business meeting. The secretary looked at me, almost as if she was cross-examining me, then handed me a schedule and a map, quickly explained the abbreviations (which tended to differ from school to school) and a few elementary rules and regulations, then came around her desk to drop me off to my first period class, seeing as it was too late for homeroom.
She didn't mince words. Good. I hated it when people did. Seriously, there's a lot better stuff someone can spend their time on than sprouting a bunch of jargon people aren't even listening to. But at the same time, she didn't have that cold air of unfriendliness. She sat more so on some sort of equilibrium. Not that I really took note of that. Those qualities simply stood out of that first meeting, and the only reason I still remember them is because I've seen her again since.
In any case, she walked me to class, pointed out a few main areas, buildings, the auditorium, the likes, then exchanged a few words with a younger woman who was to be my teacher for all subjects except the electives, grade segmented and sport, then left me alone with her.
The first thing she did was smile. And that really irked me. Seriously. Smiling for no reason takes the meaning out of a smile. And that gave me the first impression of her not being a very impressible character. In fact, if I couldn't hear how quiet the class was through the open door, I would have to had questioned her teaching abilities. There weren't many teachers who managed to be sweet, kind, and at the same time, stern enough to contain a class of pre-teens and actually teach them something. It was a bit of a switch for me as well; my last general teacher had been quite strict. Anything above an 'indoor' speaking tone or unrelated to matters pertaining to academics immediately earned oneself a detention. Strict, but perhaps not so effective when you're dealing with people several years shy of becoming adults.
This woman was quite different. Black hair clipped back, quite common in these parts. Green eyes…not so common, but not entirely unusual. Her name was Alice Kanon. She didn't look Japanese either, but she spoke it fluently enough. However the way she said her name made it obvious that it hadn't been originally intended to be spoken primarily in the Japanese dialect. It came out 'Arisu' when a native Japanese said it…unless their English lacked the notable accent that seemed to be engrained in most of us. Especially since a majority of the Japanese population don't begin English till high school. There are a few schools that begin in elementary; two of mine did, but with all the moving around and the consequent gap of knowledge, I didn't get very far into it at all.
Back to class. Social Studies (called humanities or SOSE in some schools). She gestured me into the classroom without another word after the brief exchange of introductions, which to be honest sent that first impression whirling.
The class, which I then noted had been somewhat talking rather silently amongst themselves in the brief intermission, fell respectively silent again. Temporarily. Mrs Kanon smiled at everyone, then turned to smile again at me. 'Everyone,' she introduced. 'This is Koji Minamoto. He has moved here from Osaka, and will be joining our class, and I know you'll all do your best to make him feel welcome.'
The rudimentary 'welcome' speech. But it was the way customs ran deep in society. Especially ours.
I bowed. Again, custom, keeping my back straight and arms stiff at my sides, before straightening. 'It's nice to meet you,' I said, somewhat flatly, ignoring the looks I received.
The teacher clapped her hands. 'All right,' she murmured. 'Seating.'
There were two seats available. One next to a brunette in the front who was swinging on his chair and gave me the impression he wasn't the type who could sit still for more than five minutes. The other was next to a dark haired boy in the back corner who seemed more interested in the shadow his desk cast than anything that was going on around him. Not in the sense of being rude though; he had looked up during when the talking had been going on. The rest of the class was all paired up in their desks, but to be honest, no-one at that moment really stuck out.
Until Mrs Kakon sighed. 'You may sit next to Mr Kanbara,' she decided, giving the brunette who was swinging on his chair a look. 'I trust you'll show Mr Minamoto around.'
'Yes ma'am,' he chirped.
Great, one of those boisterous types, as the first thought that fluttered through my head as I sat down in the allocated seat.
Mrs Kakon took the roll then, thirty or so students whose names I immediately forgot…except the boy who I was sitting towards. Because he, ignoring all customs and the teacher up the front, grinned, held out his hand to shake, and said: 'Hi, I'm Takuya Kanbara. You wan-'
Luckily, he was cut off. I got the feeling he was going to go off on some random tangent. And now that I know him better, I know that was exactly what he had been about to do.
But he hadn't been cut off by the teacher, but by the breathless secretary who had shown up at the door again. And there was something about the expression she wore that immediately put me on edge.
Not even a half hour at this new school, and already, it was driving me up the wall. It wasn't until well over two months after that I noted exactly which wall it had driven me up.
Mrs Kakon had obviously noted the look as well, as well had some of the class. Less than a third I think; the remaining two thirds started chatting again. Me. I just ignored the chatty boy beside me, looking at the doorway which had been vacated as the two women conversed just outside its visual limits. I would have said chatted, but the expressions on both faces had seemed far too serious.
More so when the black haired woman returned to the doorway only long enough to gesture a student out. Specifically, the one who sat by himself at the back.
It was a little odd. She didn't use his surname, or anything at all. Just a simple given name.
'Koichi,' she said, the inherent lightness in her voice a little dark. 'Come outside please.'
Everyone looked at her, before looking at the boy who was slipping out of his desk. The whispering started again as the teacher withdrew, but I didn't catch a lot of them. There was something about him not being the type to get into trouble, and a few more spiteful comments to which the brunette sitting next to me snapped back with the ferocity of a little dragon, effectively shutting them up.
It took ten or so minutes for Mrs Kakon to return to the room, with a slightly sorrowful expression on her face, and alone. Neither the boy, Koichi, nor the secretary, were with her.
'Mr Kanbara,' she said, eyeing the boy beside me, Takuya. 'Please see my after class. Everyone, turn to page 54 of your textbook, read the section till page 62 then answer the questions that follow. Mr Minamoto, please share with Mr Kanbara. No talking please.'
There was a sudden hushed silence, before a few disgruntled and surprised murmurs broke out, only to be shut up immediately after words. Within minutes, everyone was reading the prescribed pages. And I got the feeling from the initial reactions that this wasn't the work the teacher normally assigned.
In the end, the class was dismissed with only one girl in the middle row having finished the assigned questions. To everybody else, it was written as homework, as students packed up their books for sport.
Takuya stayed back, seeing as Mrs Kakon had wanted to see him. I stayed too, if only because, one, I hadn't brought my sport uniform, not knowing Monday meant sports, and two, he was supposed to be showing me around, and it was easier on my pride (if that's what you want to call it; I would personally disagree). Mrs Kakon didn't seem to mind my presence, so I simply hung by the door, books in hand.
I didn't here what she said to him, but they talked for about five minutes or so, before the brunette went and collected the books left behind. His own, and that of the other student who had never returned to the period.
Takuya came over to me, and looked at my books. 'Have you been you your locker?'
I answered with a simple 'no.'
He nodded, constant smile gone. 'Come on then.' He gestured at his hands with his shoulders…somewhat. 'I need to put this stuff away anyway.'
He led the way, pointing out classrooms that were apparently on my schedule. Turned out not all of them were; I didn't take exactly the same classes he did.
He paused by a locker, before turning to me. 'I'm assuming this one's yours,' he said. 'Seeing as it's the only empty one.'
He was right. Not that you could tell just by looking at the lockers. But being there at least twice a day would tell you which ones didn't have someone hovering over it.
'You need to enter in your combination and then open it,' he explained, moving to a locker about three columns across and working on his own combination. 'It's probably on your schedule.'
It was, and it didn't take long for it to open and for me to dump the unnecessary books into it. It took a little longer for Takuya, if only to separate the two sets of books.
'I'll give them back to him when he comes back,' Takuya mumbled to himself, slamming the door shut. 'Dunno how long that's going to take though…'
His voice trailed off a bit, before he realised I was standing there. 'That didn't make any sense at all to you, did it?' he asked, in all seriousness, nothing like the…well, bouncy boy that had been swinging on his chair. He shook his head afterwards. 'Never mind. They'll explain it. Probably have an emergency assembly.'
He suddenly thrust a plastic bag containing something soft (sports uniform I noted) into my hands.
'I keep a spare,' he said in answer to the unasked question. 'Need to for soccer practice. But it's clean. Mum just washed it yesterday.'
Too much information, but that was, I reluctantly had to admit to myself, rather nice of him.
He was right about the other fact too. They did have an assembly for all the fifth graders. And I think the news had temporarily shocked everybody into silence, regardless of what emotions, ties or bonds ran between the people listening and the person actually involved. Even me, who hadn't so much as made eye contact with the guy at the time, but I realised a little later on that it had affected me more than I noted at the time.
It turned out that his mother had passed away that morning. To be honest, I wondered for a fleeting second how he hadn't known his mother was sick before he left for school. I mean, it had been pretty early during the day. But apparently she had been sick for some time, because the principal continued discussing something or other about it. He unfortunately used words that were very difficult to remember.
The rest of the day passed almost silently, but the next day set things into full swing again (or so I assumed; I had, after all, missed out on 'normalcy's' painting.. Relatively. A blonde in the second row commented that Takuya was being more snappish than normal, to which he replied he wouldn't be much of a friend if he wasn't. The said friend was notably absent, the empty twin desks in the back row glaringly obvious.
I didn't see Koichi Kimura again till after five weeks had passed (four of those were summer break).
Takuya, unfortunately (at the time anyway), stuck like a leech. It had turned out he didn't live too far away from my house either.
Author's Notes:
Alice (Arisu) Kanon: Arisu is the Japanese version of Alice, which is an English name meaning 'noble sort'. Kanon is a japanese name meaning 'flower sound'. Which indicates she's either half Japanese or she's married to a Japanese guy. Or both.
