Chapter 1/ Aria

Thursday 20th June / 2:43 pm / Kagoshima High School, Geography classroom G1

You have -1- new message.

I glance down at the phone in my pocket, where a new notification lights up the screen. For a moment, I even consider checking it, but then I notice that the teacher's eyes are hovering in my direction. It's probably just a text from Mum telling me she's going to be late, I reason. Or spam mail. Whatever. Either way, I can't afford getting caught out again – not if I'm to pass this class, anyway.

It's not that I find geophysical landforms boring. In fact, I'm sure there are people in this world who love nothing more than to label volcanic diagrams. It's just that time of day where every minute seems to drag on forever. As if the hands on the clock stop moving when I look away. Frowning, I lower my pencil to my notepad and scratch in a few more lines. The picture details my view – the few desks in front of me and the backs of the people sitting there. It's bad, even by my standards.

I'm just working on the dark ponytail of the girl to the left when I realise I don't know her name. Not that I particularly care about the majority of the people I go to school with, but it seems strange that I would never ask someone who sits so close to me. I make a mental note of it, for all its worth.

And then, next to her, sits Kimiko.

I suppose it's a bit immature to label another as your enemy at the age of sixteen, but if anyone's going to be deserving of that title, it's Kimiko Harada. I'll admit it – she's pretty damn perfect. She knows it, and so does just about every other person in the school, thanks to her sharp tongue. I've been on the receiving end a few times, but mainly it's the younger students she picks on, the ones with about as much self-confidence as a mop. But I'm not going to dwell on it. I'm not going to be childish.

So in the end, I just draw an arrow to her illustration and write 'bitch'.

That ought to do it.

After class, I rush to catch up with the black-haired girl from earlier. It takes a few minutes to find her amid the crowds of students, but eventually I spot her hunched over her locker in the corridor outside.

"Hi," I say, approaching her.

She freezes. Then she peers over her locker door at me and mumbles something. I can't quite hear it over the noise, but it sounds a little like "I'm busy."

Now, I'm not the outgoing type. In fact, I would usually class myself as the complete opposite. But I've seen this girl being pushed around and ignored before, so I'm not about to back down.

"Want to walk with me to the final class? I've got biology—"

I'm interrupted by the sound of the locker door slamming shut. The girl turns to look at me with a harsh, dry expression. "Don't feel like you have to be nice to me just because I'm a foreigner. I'd rather you didn't try."

"What?" I can feel myself getting annoyed at her attitude. Indifference is one thing, but this is ridiculous. I frown, saying nothing as she collects her bag.

Somewhere nearby, the bell to move us along to the next lesson rings out across the corridor. At the same time, a shouting arises from the crowd, and I notice several people moving back as two figures split them. They rush past me, shouldering their way through the clusters of gawping students. One of them I recognise as Mr Murakami, my social studies teacher from last year. I don't catch his expression, but I can tell from his speed that he's in a hurry.

"Wonder what's up with them," I mutter to myself. Turning back to the girl, I add, "Want to find out? My class is in that direction anyway."

The girl stares at me for a few moments, then slings her bag over her shoulder. "Okay."

It seems that several other people have gotten the same idea. A few laugh and point down the corridor at the disappearing backs of the two teachers. Making sure that the girl is following me, I pull away from the lockers and begin down the corridor.

What could be so bad that it would require Mr Murasaki's attention, I wonder. Has something happened? Probably just some first year with their head stuck in the railings, or even something similar. Whatever it is, it'll probably make the walk to biology more interesting. More join us as we go along, and soon we pass through the doors of the block and into the courtyard.

What I see, however, makes me stop dead.

A crowd is gathered to the left, each person staring up at the building that casts them in shadow. There's a girl standing on the roof, motionless aside from the flutter of her uniform in the wind. It doesn't take much to work out what's going on.

I allow my mind to tune into the sounds arising from those gathered. Some are panicking. Others are mortified. A small distance away, I notice Mr Murakami cup his hands and call out to the girl: "Saeko Ishiguro, stay right where you are. Help is on its way."

Ishiguro... A gasp escapes me as I recognise the name. The girl is from my art class. We don't speak often, but just the other day I lent her a pencil that she never gave back. Sure enough, when I stare up into the shadows of her face, a sense of familiarity springs to mind. Her small features are emotionless. It's as if she doesn't even realise where she is.

All at once, I feel sick. Somehow, just knowing the girl's name makes the situation all that worse.

"She's not really going to jump, is she?" The girl with black hair moves up beside me, concern heavy in her tone. I don't answer her; my eyes are fixed upon the roof.

Saeko tilts her head to stare down at the ground. Perhaps she's having reservations. Or maybe she's sizing up the distance, calculating the fall. I'll never know. But what I do know is that nothing can prepare me for what happens next as Saeko takes a step forward.

And jumps.

A/N: It feels strange to be writing fanfiction again. I had so many ideas for my next story: Attack on Titan, Fallout 3, Amnesia, Assassin's Creed 3, even Far Cry 3... but in the end, it came out as this. Strange, considering it was about two years ago when I watched Mirai Nikki. XD I have some ideas and a good direction for this fic, so I hope it comes out well. Perhaps it could be my new Dreamweaver...? It's going to be told from the point of view of several characters, so please bear with me if the prose is a little trippy at times.

As usual, please feel free to favourite / follow / leave a review. I'd love to know what you think of my first chapter!

-VoRTeX