First and Second
You know what it's like when obsessed girls start fangirling over some "incredibly hot" guy? They claim they're in love, that they'll never want another, that that boy is their entire world. Then, in a few days, or weeks if you're lucky, they decide that this other guy is their one true love. Then the cycle starts all over again.
Honestly, it's frustrating. You'd want to bonk them over the head, knock some sense into their evidently empty heads. Kami knows how many times Ino's sobbed to me about how she might be too fat, that her current infatuation might like another, that maybe she's too ugly. Really, all that worrying over trivial things just to repeat it all over, the only difference in the routine being the guy she's worrying about.
You'd think that girls are bad enough. But it's a hundred times worse when the one Cupid shot is a guy.
Some guys like Kiba rush through relationships, and come out of them with a huge, red slap mark across his face. And then there's others like Rock Lee and Naruto, who actually stay true to their word and continue liking that one person, whether that girl spurs their advances and go after a more elite guy, or if that girl's too shy to meet their gaze. I thought I was going to die when Lee professed his undying love for that pink-haired nerd, Haruno Sakura. Naruto went crazy when that pale violet-eyed brunette Hyuga Hinata finally amassed the courage to ask him out. Even Chouji, my best friend, Chouji, wondered about whether he should ask our childhood friend, Yamanaka Ino, out.
I swear, love makes people seriously stupid.
The only ones who didn't give a damn about this screwed up chaos we call "love" were Neji, Sasuke, Shino, and me. Neji didn't care because he was too obsessed with being a child prodigy—and showoff—with perfect grades. Sasuke didn't worry either, since he already had an army of fangirls stalking him. Shino was only interested in things with antennae and three or more pairs of legs. And me? I'd already figured out the design of this ridiculous puppy love a long time ago.
It was obvious. If you were on top, you had it all. The guy with the hottest body, the most gorgeous face, the coolest hair, and the biggest fanclub would always win. I had none of these things. Why should I set myself up for disappointment?
I looked average, acted average, was average, and my life was sure as hell going to be average. I didn't want anything more than that. I wanted a life that wasn't too troublesome, a nice, normal life. I didn't need trouble. That much I knew beyond doubt.
At least, that was what my ideals back then were. Back when I thought I knew what 'troublesome' meant. But for the whole of my life, I thought I knew what 'trouble' was. My mother, girls, homework, those things were troublesome. And yet this girl had to come into my life and make me rethink what I was so sure was a fundamental knowledge.
It started out as one of those dull, windy September days at Konoha High. We were in the courtyard. Shino was utterly bored, since there were no insects in sight. Sai was drawing his next masterpiece, and Neji just sat there taking up space while Chouji stuffed his face with barbeque chips. Naruto and Sasuke were arguing, Kiba was tying Naruto's shoelaces together while the blonde's attention was on insulting Sasuke, and I was complaining about how school was so troublesome while a flock of fangirls drooled over Sasuke. Nothing out of proportion in our regular, screwed up lives.
Then Ebisu-sensei came trotting along, his loud, obnoxious voice raised to maximum volume, evidently pointing out which buildings were which as three unfamiliar students trailed behind him.
Everyone in the courtyard shut up, all eyes trained on the newcomers. Considering the large amount of rude bystanders that were obviously whispering about them, I was surprised when not one of the three new arrivals seemed the least bit perturbed. Ebisu-sensei's annoying voice echoed throughout the courtyard awkwardly. They kept on walking, we kept on staring.
Then, cutting the silence in his usually unsubtle attempt at being subtle, Naruto said, "It's them! The transfer students! Dattebayo!"
His version of whispering was our equivalent to a shout, and yet none of the transfer students even turned his way. They didn't seem to hear. Or rather, they didn't care.
The one closest behind Ebisu-sensei was a boy of slender build. He had dark burgundy hair and incredibly pale cobalt eyes. The Japanese symbol for "love" was etched on the left side of his forehead, just beneath his hairline. Dark shadows rimmed his eyes, and he was ashen. Maybe he was an insomniac.
The second was also a boy, with messy chestnut hair and umber eyes. His face was more rugged than the pallid features of the other. He was also stockier and taller, although if you looked closely, you could see the faint resemblance between the two. Although one had eyes edged with marks from lack of sleep, their eyes were the same, proud and fierce. The stockier one seemed more outgoing than the pale one, although that wasn't saying much. If you saw that evil basilisk's glare he had on his face, you would know what I mean.
The third student was a girl, who was just as tall as the redhead. Her sandy hair was tied into four chaotic pigtails at the back of her head. She wasn't as pale as the redhead, but not as tanned as the brunette. She had a strange eye color, a dark teal that I'd never seen in anyone else before. Her eyes, too, had that overbearing look that the others had. Instead of the usual stockings that high school girls wore, she had fishnets, one sleeve that covered half of her left thigh and another that covered her right calf like a sock.
That was the first time I saw her. The second time was in literature class. I was dozing off and hadn't realized that she was there.
A sharp whack over my head quickly changed that.
"Wake up, lazyass," she muttered as she passed by my desk, sitting down in the seat assigned to her. Unfortunately, that seat was right behind me. I peeked up at Kakashi-sensei, the teacher of our class, rubbing my head ruefully. He had his masked nose buried in his Icha-Icha book. As I stared at him, he looked up, met my gaze, and gave me an innocent "Who, me?" look before turning his attention back to the pervy volume he held. I groaned. Why did I have a feeling he deliberately put that girl behind me? With that troublesome person behind me, I had a feeling that I'd get hit over the head with books a lot more often now.
I moaned quietly before placing my head back in my arms, trying to resume the nap that had been cruelly cut short. Hopefully that girl wouldn't interrupt me again. It would have been such a drag.
I should've known that that girl was going to royally screw up my life.