Chapter 1

Sawamura nearly tripped over his own shoelaces as he hurried up the stone steps into the Seidou school. He was running late, which was a very common occurrence with the young boy. The bell signaled the start of class and he flew into his first class, barely seating himself before his teacher could turn around to shut the door.

"That's the third time this month, Sawamura." Ochiai said.

"Sorry, I missed the bus again, sergeant!"

Ochiai sighed in obvious irritation. "That excuse won't fly in the real world, Sawamura. If you're late one more time it's detention. Understand?"

Sawamura's face burned with embarrassment and he nodded, "Yes, understood, sergeant!" while his classmates failed to conceal their snickering.

The class went by uneventfully and slow, which was nothing new for a literature class. The bell rang and Eijun gathered up his tattered books into his arms, ready to speed out of the room.

"Not so fast, Bakamura!"

Sawamura sighed and turned away from the door, going against the current of classmates to his teacher's distant desk. "Yes, sergeant?"

"This is your third offense this semester, you know what that means?" Ochiai said.

"Uh… stand on the hallway with buckets of water and no more warnings?" Sawamura frowned.

"Nice try. It means I need to conference with your parents about this behavior before it becomes a habit." Ochiai tore out a sheet of notebook paper and scribbled down a quick note, passing it to the young student. "Here. Have your parents sign this and bring it back to me tomorrow."

Sawamura took the note and placed it securely in his binder. Before he could leave he was stopped once more by the bane of his existence. "And, Sawamura? Your books were just issued in August and are already in terrible condition. Any more damage and you'll need to pay for them in May. I'm already giving you slack considering its current condition."

It was true, Sawamura's school-issue books were in almost a worse shape than his own supplies, no matter how new or old they were. It wasn't his fault, though, books just weren't safe in his home. It was not a building of learning like the school; it was a building of learning to hold your tongue.

Sawamura nodded and rushed out of the room to his next class, which was luckily in the same hallway, otherwise he'd be late again. It was an art class, his favorite class. He plopped down at his easel, next to his friend Furuya and Haruichi.

The young male teacher, Yuki hobbled around the room, setting up a still-life in the center of easels. Furuya leaned over as Sawamura began to place his books and binders under his chair to make room for paints and brushes on the stand under his canvas.

"Hey, you were almost late again." Furuya whispered.

"I know, my English teacher had me stay late." Sawamura sighed.

Haruichi leaned over as well. "Why did he make you stay? Did you miss the bus again, Eijun-kun?"

"Yeah..."

Haruichi exhaled. "He thinks he can do anything he wants because second period is his planning class. I have him fourth and he never holds us back. He makes you late for being late?"

"What a hypocrite." Furuya muttered.

A glare from Yuki silenced them and he gave the class today's lesson plan. "Class, settle down! Who can tell me what we're doing today? Hm?"

There was a long silence and students avoided Yuki's gaze, looking anywhere but at him. "No volunteers?" Yuki picked up his class seating chart. "Kominato!"

Haruichi startled, "We're… painting?"

"Very good! Class, remember, easels mean painting! This week I want everyone to wear old clothes because acrylic does not wash out! I have a box of aprons in the back for anyone who needs one."

The class continued on smoothly. Anyone who knew Sawamura knew that this was his thing: he was always found doodling on homework page margins or working all class in art to perfect something as simple as shading. He was very driven when it came to creating his own personal masterpieces, something that tends to distract Furuya (who would get so caught up in watching his friend paint that he would neglect his own work).

Furuya, being a suspected sufferer of ADHD (Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder) by his teachers, always complained that Furuya couldn't just make his own "piece of garbage" while Picasso (Sawamura) was right next to him. Furuya also admitted to enjoying Sawamura mix paint into tie-dye-like colors on his pallet.

Sawamura smiled to himself, very pleased that he finally found the right shade of brown to mix into the shading of the plastic apple on display in front of him. His canvas had the pencil sketches of all the fruits and empty wine bottles perfectly laid out, looking surreal against the nearly-finished painted apple and orange. Furuya marveled at his ability to put so much effort into painting one tiny part of the canvas, while he always tried to cover his entire board with a layer of paint before class let out. As a result, his canvas was a shiny beige of drying paint with nothing to indicate it was a still-life of fruit except for a few blobs of color at the bottom (where he "totally" was gonna add some high-lights or whatever to make them into fruit").

"Ten minute warning!" Yuki called out.

Everyone filtered to the sink and trash cans and their artist cubbies where they were encouraged to cover their pallets in plastic-wrap to save their unused paint. Sawamura was notorious for working until the end of class, speeding through the cleaning process in a solid minute because he wanted as much time as he could get away with to paint. Once he started something, he couldn't leave it unfinished. It was, as his another friend Kanemaru called it, curse of the artist.

It was three minutes until classes changed; most students sat and pulled their chairs together, or waited at the door like dogs. Sawamura walked to the empty sinks and washed out his brushes. He smiled when he turned back to his easel to see Haruichi and Furuya had already cleared away his supplies and put them away.

"If we help you clean, then you have more time to paint, and that's more time for us to watch." Harucihi would say every time Sawamura asked them about why they helped.

The rest of his classes passed slowly, and lunch was excruciatingly slow considering Sawamura didn't have money for food. He sat in the bathroom stalls that day, sketching in his spare notebook until the bell changed classes again. Having last lunch meant switching classes as soon as he was done eating (or in today's case, starving alone in a bathroom).

After school he headed straight into town, on his way to his part-time job at a small flower shop. It was September and the business was slowing down. His hours were being cut shorter and shorter and he joked with Haruichi that if he didn't know any better he'd say his boss was trying to get rid of him.

He frowned. It wouldn't be the first time he wasn't wanted.

Sawamura tugged his school blazer over his arms tighter, the bitter wind causing him to shiver against the fraying fabric. He desperately needed a new school blazer; this one was from middle school and only fit because it was his adopted brother, Miyuki's, and at the time it was cool to have clothes just a bit too big. He took a deep breath, wishing Miyuki hadn't moved out so soon. His brother was nineteen, while Sawamura was seventeen. It was hard having him away.

Sawamura smiled when he saw the storefront, the large windows full of colorful flowers and ribbons. He walked in, saluting to his boss, Kataoka Tesshin. He entered the "employee's only" stock room, cramming his books into the small locker and putting his school blazer up on a rusty hook. Then he tied on an oversized apron with the company name 'Tesshin Florist' in cracked print; the apron was so large it had to be wrapped around the young boy's slender waist to resemble a dress.

"Good evening, boss!" Sawamura saluted when he reemerged from the stock area.

"Hello to you, too, Sawamura." Kataoka said.

Sawamura grinned while he walked around the displayed flowers, checking for dead leaves to trim. "Your sunglasses is cool, boss!"

A small giggle alerted them to the woman at the front door: Rei Takishima, Kataoka's girlfriend.

"That's a brand new sunglasses." Rei smiled softly and skirted around Sawamura to get a closer look at some white poppy flowers, delicately lifting the petals with her hands and taking in the scent.

Rei and Kataoka suddenly remember that Sawamura nearly failed his sophomore year sports class, almost having to quit his job at the flower shop, until Kataoka decided to help Sawamura study at work since he clearly didn't at home.

"It's only been a month," Kataoka told Rei. "We can't let Sawamura fail Sports. I can't have my best worker quitting on me."

Sawamura pulled a browning flower from the back of a display. "I'm your only worker," he laughed.

"I know." Kataoka said.

The door had an old bell attached to it, dinging loudly whenever a patron entered. The bell dinged loudly as a regular, Masuko, came into the florescent-lit shop.

"Hello, Masuko-senpai!" Sawamura called from behind a large potted sunflower.

"Hello, Sawamura-chan!" Masuko replied in his usual happy face. He continued to the counter, talking briefly with Kataoka as Sawamura cut a few sunflowers by the stems and wrapped them up. He thanked Masuko while he handed Kataoka his money.

"My mother will love these." Masuko smiled.

He was gone in an instant and Kataoka's eye twinkled before he pounced. "Pop quiz."

Sawamura moaned. His boss, to ensure he didn't fail, hammered him with pop quizzes on sports (focusing on baseball) randomly throughout work days. To make sure Sawamura didn't forget, he'd ask the same questions multiple times. Kataoka said he didn't want Sawamura to skate through life on beginner's luck. kataoka tossed a candy bar to the boy (the traditional reward for correct quiz answers), who snatched it up greedily and ate it instantly. He hummed in contentment.

Rei swept the floor and watched the boys from afar, feeling warm inside, proud them. Ever since Sawamura began working for them he's been like family, even if he doesn't know it yet. There was something charming about the teen. Rei checked her watch, calling out, "Sawamura, honey, it's seven. Time to go home." She was always surprised when Sawamura would frown and quickly recover at the idea. The three of them did one more sweep of the shop, cleaning up the rest of the spilled dirt or fallen petals. They sent Sawamura out ahead of them while they locked the shop up.

"Good night, boss! Good night, Rei-san!"

Sawamura fumbled with his school blazer as he walked down the dimly-lit sidewalk before remembering it had been busted since January.

"I really need a new blazer..." he hummed to himself.

It was nearly eight o'clock by the time he returned home and, though he lived close to work and school, he made an effort to be late on his return trips. His parents didn't need to know it only took ten to twenty minutes on a good day to get to town or to school.

Sawamura gripped his books to his chest tightly as he shifted his weight from one foot to another, eventually gaining the courage to open the front door, which was unlocked as usual. The floorboards creaked under his weight and the door made a loud wood-on-wood scratching noise since the door wasn't aligned right with the frame. The house was cheap and everyone knew it, though that was far from why Sawamura never had guests over. Or friends. Or anyone.

He toed his shoes off, carrying them in his other hand as he walked to his room. In all honestly he was surprised no one stopped him yet. His father was usually on the living room couch (being the first room you enter when you enter the house). His mother was always in her bedroom, another place he had to pass through to enter his small sanctum. Remembering the teacher note he, for once, hoped frantically they hadn't left without telling him again. He knew he was in trouble for having a note, but he was dead if they had to get called by the school.

Sawamura made it to his bedroom, pushing the solid door open with his shoulder. The doorknob was broken and in the kitchen drawer, leaving his room to be the easiest one in the entire house to "break into." He stopped when he saw his parents sitting on his bed, the mattress sagging heavily under their combined weight and the broken spring box. They looked livid and their eyes told them they had been drinking.

His father drinking alone was bad. His mother drinking alone was bad. His father and mother drinking together? Sawamura was inevitably screwed.

His father with a rockability hair style was a large man and very mean. His mother was the seventeen-year old who he married in a teenage act of rebellion against her parents. Neither had graduated school, and both blamed it all on Sawamura. Miyuki was adopted when their mom was eighteen, but Miyuki wasn't around to be yelled at anymore. Logic took a backseat and anger took control of everything and anything.

"What is this?" Sawamura's mother slurred, holding up a beginning-of-the-year test Sawamura took (and failed) in Sports.

"F? You failed a fucking test on where boys love sports?"

"Sorry, mom..." Sawamura panicked. "It was to see how much we already knew and they teach baseball differently from middle school did—"

The rage in his father's eyes stopped him dead in his tracks. "What?" he screamed.

His father continued to yell. He was accusing Sawamura of trying to lie, though Sawamura couldn't make out half the words. His father was already on his feet, his arm swung back and hit Sawamura's cheek so hard it knocked him and his belongings on the dirty floor.

His eyes stung and he opened them to see his sprawled out notebooks and an empty liquor bottle. His father stepped over him (not before stepping on his hand) and turned to his wife, slurring for her to come with him before walking out to collapse on the couch.

His drunken mother narrowed her eyes when he saw Sawamura weakly pull his books together in a pile, the teacher's note falling freely to the floor. "What's that?"

Sawamura swallowed. "A... a teacher note..."

"The fuck did you do this time?"

He stumbled to his feet, taking his father's place on the bed and handing the note over. "I was late to class again… he wants to talk with you about it…"

Another smack on the cheek had him reeling while his mother angrily walked away with the note, slamming the door the best she could. Sawamura stared at the round hole in the wood, barely making out his mother walking in the direction of her room. The loud snores of his father calmed him down and the fear crept away, though never fully leaving. He curled up under his blanket, closing his eyes, forcing his burning cheek against the cool pillow.

Sawamura woke up earlier than usual that day, before either his parent. His luck was turning up! The other night his father had beat him so hard he overslept his alarm, having to run the entire distance from his house to school. His head still ached when he thought about it.

He tip-toed out of his room and into the shared family bathroom. The lock on that door thankfully worked, but it was the only lock in the house to do its job. He peeled his shirt off, tossing it to the floor with the rest of his clothes. The glare of the mirror, broken in two places, brought his attention to his body. His torso was lithe and pale, too pale for a young boy. He lifted his arms above his head, marveling at the thin layer of skin moving over the small muscles. His stomach skin stretched and appeared even flatter than usual, his ribs protruding in even lines while his hip bones pointed outward sharply from his body.

It was no secret to his family that he didn't eat enough. His father and mother liked to use their "extra" money on liquor, lottery tickets… generally some new kind of white-trash money hole. They expected their son to eat at school, sometimes refusing to feed him dinner or breakfast because he "would get fat and expect food every day." He inhaled evenly and tried to calm his aching, contorting stomach. He slipped away from the mirror before he could get further lost in his own skin, stepping gingerly into the shower and washing himself as quickly as he could with their limited soap and hot water.

Once the shower was done Sawamura snuck back to his bedroom, not surprised to see his father still asleep on the couch. He changed, throwing his old clothes on his bed, and grabbed his school supplies before heading to the front door. He paused when he saw the teacher note sitting on the kitchen table; he picked it up, reading it for the first time since his English teacher scribbled it out.

Mr. and Mrs. Sawamura,

It has come to my attention that your son, Eijun, has trouble arriving to school on time. This has been an on-going occurrence and today was his third late arrival since the start of the school year. I would like to talk with you about your son's current progress and home situation to affirm whether he is truthful in his excuses for being late. It disrupts the teachings of my class and hinders not just his education, but that of the entire class. Tomorrow (September 15) would be ideal to speak with you about his behavior. Please sign this note to prove you have read it and whether or not you can attend the meeting.

Eijun's grip of the white page tightened and crinkled the dirtying paper. How could his teacher say that? To write to his parents in such an arrogant way, as if they were children themselves. He may be late often but it's always under five minutes! In fact, he was there on time more often than the teacher himself, who comes in half the time with the excuse of having car trouble. This note made him sound even worse than he was at coming to school. And to top it off that line about him being truthful makes it sound as if he was making up lies of grandeur!

Eijun had never been so mad at a teacher in his high school life. The bright red marker bleeding through the bottom of the page displayed his mother's response, likely a drunken one from the night before.

Tomorrow works for us. Thank you for bringing this to our attention.

His mother's name was scrawled in tight, overlapping letters. He easily could have forged the note if his handwriting was that sloppy. Eijun glanced at the bright time on the oven clock, sighing at what he knew would be a bad day at school.

Knowing the teacher had a penchant for ruining his plans, Eijun left home early so he could stop by Tesshin Florist to tell Kataoka he might not be able to make it to work that night.

"I'm sorry, boss!" Sawamura bowed. "But my English teacher is a real dick!"

Kataoka and Rei both chuckled, knowing Sawamura to be a sweet energetic boy but it was hilarious whenever he used language like that.

"It's okay, Sawamura." Rei winked. "You work too hard. Study your sports tonight with your free time, yeah?" Kataoka nodded in agreement, patting Sawamura on the head.

"Now get to school, and be back tomorrow with your textbook." Kataoka said while Sawamura groaned because, first he has to sit through a parent-teacher conference with the three people he disliked being alone with most, and now he has to give his boss more ammunition for pop quizzes? Today was not his day.