The Ghost of Iwatobi High
Chapter 2
What's His Name Again?

"Sawako, are you all packed?" My mother's voice carried over from our medium sized kitchen as I came down the stairs. In my hands, I held my two carry-on bags, one a small suitcase and the other a new duffle that I had got specifically for this trip. Setting the bags down by the front door, I looked around my childhood home knowing that I probably wouldn't be seeing it again for at least a year. I was a bit sad thinking about it.

This had been my home for as long as I could remember. Each room was filled with memories; from the doorway where mom marked my height as I grew to the tropical aquarium where my clownfish, Tolkien, swam that I had gotten for my twelfth birthday. Our white Persian cat, Fatty, lounged idly on the tile floor by the stairs, sunbathing, and I leaned down to run my fingers over her soft fur.

"Morning, Fatty," I said scratching her behind the ears. She purred softly and leaned against my touch, stretching her body out and rolling on her back for a belly rub. "You're such a weird cat," I said patting her soft belly twice before standing up.

"Sawako." My mother called again.

My attention snapped to the kitchen doorway where my mother stood. Watabe Ume, or Ume Fairchild as she was now known, bared little to no resemblance to me. Growing up, I was told that I looked just like my dad which was true; I had his short stature, dark hair and eyes and both our faces seemed to be permanently frozen in what many would call a death glare. My mother, contrariwise, was tall –much taller than was normal for people from Japan – at 5'7 ft she really stood out in a crowd, she had light brown hair that was cut into a short pixie, and her eyes were a golden honey color. About the only thing we hand in common was our complete lack of figure.

"You're a bit distracted today," she observed smiling.

"Yeah," I nodded absently looking around the room.

Mom's smile dropped slightly as I did this, then as quickly as I looked back she was smiling again. She probably hoped I didn't see that. "Well, breakfast is ready so come eat." She said and disappeared back into the kitchen.

Following after her, I was immediately struck with the thought that this would be the last time we would have breakfast together. At least until December rolled around; which was nine months away and seemed like a lifetime. So much could happen in nine months. I sat myself down at the table and stared at the copious amount of food that sat there. From the looks of things, she had been cooking from early this morning because there was no way she would've been able to make that big of a fruit salad and fry that many eggs unless she had. "Mom," I sputtered, "you didn't have to make so much food. I would've been fine with poptarts."

At my words, she spun around wielding a metal spatula and a plate of unidentifiable breakfast food. "You're not going to eat poptarts on the day you're taking off to Japan," she said. "You need something more substantial and those things are only filled with sugar. I won't allow it!" Her eyes were firm and I knew there was no arguing with her.

"Yes, ma'am," I replied breaking eye contact and letting my hair fall forward.

"Aww—geez," she sighed as she turned off the skillet, setting the plate down on the table, then taking a seat next to me, "what's with this ma'am business? It makes me feel old. A thirty-two-year-old woman should not be called ma'am by her own daughter. I mean I was about your age when I had you..."

"–Sorry," I said, knowing how much my mother hated to be called ma'am.

There was a beat of silence, then as if a switch had been flipped, mom broke out into a fit of giggles. "I'm only teasing you, Zashiki Warashi. I'm a mom I get to do that," she smiled and pushed the plate of eggs towards me. I had to smile too at the familiar pet name.

Zashiki Warashi, or guestroom child, was something my mother had called me since I was very small. As I understood it, in Japan zashiki warashi were little ghouls that inhabited homes and brought good luck; taking the shape of a small child with bobbed hair and a red face. Up until I was about eight or so, I had always worn my hair in a bob and I guess I reminded mom of them. Not that I minded because she'd always said that I was her good luck charm.

"Come on, eat," Mom urged already putting food on my plate without asking. She set about sliding about three fried eggs on my plate, then scooping out a generous amount of fruit salad, then picked up the plate of food she had been carrying before. I couldn't tell what it was, but it looked like long rolls of bacon that seemed to be stuffed with something. "And look at these!" she excitedly started placing the things in front of me, "I came up with these this morning! I call them oinkers!"

"Oinkers?" I wondered picking one up and examining it.

Mom seemed proud of herself as she nodded. "Yep. It's like pigs in a blanket only better! I took a sausage, wrapped it in a pancake and tied it together with bacon. And then you dunk them in maple syrup," she explained. "It's the ultimate breakfast food!"

Her face was stretched into a Cheshire cat-like grin that frankly made her look both ridiculous and little scary. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or say something about it. Although, I ended up not doing either of them when I looked at my plate and realized that my mom had precariously stacked about ten oinkers on it prior to adding one more spoonful of fruit salad to the heap. This resulting in a huge pile of food no one, much less me, could possibly eat in one sitting; not unless I was someone like Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson. "Mom!" I yelled exasperated, "I couldn't possibly eat this much food."

She didn't say anything at first. But then I heard a telltale sniffle coming from her side of the table. My head snapped up to see my mother –still in the process of scooping out yet another helping of fruit salad –staring back at me with tears in her eyes. "I know. But please –please just let me have this, Sawako. Just for today," she whimpered. It wasn't uncommon for my mother to shed a few tears –it was tactic she used a lot to get her own way –however, I knew this was different because it was today of all days and she'd never try to hold back her tears unless she was genuinely upset.

And me being me, couldn't stand to see her cry without breaking out into tears myself. "We agreed," I said dapping at my eyes, "no tears."

"I –sniff –can't help it. My baby's leaving me..."

"Mom, I'll –hiccup –be b-back in n-nine m-m-months," I replied. By now neither of us were able to hold back the waterfall of tears we'd stored up; the dams breaking and the emotions we'd been holding back coming to the surface.

"W-who am I-I g-gonna m-mock t-t-the Kardashians w-with?" Mom sobbed clutching me to her.

I was past the point of comprehensible speech; we both were. So when I spoke, I meant to say something along the lines of, "There's always Laurel next door." Laurel being the daughter of our neighbors Mr. and Mrs. McKinley, only a couple years older than I was, and was the only person I'd really consider a friend. What came out of my mouth, however, was slurred beyond belief making me sound like Jabba the Hut. "Theeee—whaaaa—baaa—Laurel!"

Meanwhile, this was the time my step-father George chose to make an appearance. "Okay, so I've put all the bags in the car..." He stopped and took one look at my mom and I clutching each other in a death grip, while we both wailed at the top of our lungs. I imagined we looked like a couple of toddlers throwing a tantrum. Then pushing up his horn-rimmed glasses and sheepishly brushing his blonde hair from his forehead, he asked. "What's going on here?"

Mom lifted her from my shoulder and managed to get out four words. "Sawako. Leaving. Japan. Today."

That only made George more confused. And I could practically see his thoughts as he looked off to the side. 'Women. There's no understanding them.'

...

Homesickness was something I had become accustomed to. Japan, as much as I liked the country, wasn't home. And on more than one occasion, I found myself missing the crystal blue waters, tropical reefs, and white sandy beaches of Hawaii. But more than anything what I really missed was my mother and George.

Of course, I talked to them occasionally on the phone or skype and exchanged constant emails with my mom. So, in reality, I talked to them almost every day, still, it wasn't the same. Being an entire ocean apart was hard. I couldn't listen to George go on and on about migratory patterns of birds. I couldn't go surfing with Laurel. (Despite the fact, that I wasn't any good at it and I ending up wiping out more times than actually standing on the board.) Nor could I eat any more of my mother's bizarre culinary creations.

It's funny how being away made me miss things like that.

I watched the scenery blur past the window and stifled a yawn. I had overslept again. I didn't mean to, truly I didn't. But at some point last night I got too absorbed into my drawing and ended up passing out at my computer desk. Fortunately for me, my dad was home this morning and wound up waking me up at 07:15; which left me with just enough time that I could still catch the train as long as I rushed through my morning. So it went without saying that my appearance was disheveled as I tried not to fall asleep on the stranger standing next to me.

That's another thing... what was with public transportation being so crowded? I've lived in Japan for a year, so I should've been used to it by now. But every time I board one of the many trains I find myself overwhelmed by just how crowded the country actually is. (Or maybe it seems that way because I grew up on a little island where there weren't that many people.) In the city, like Tokyo for example, a hundred people are packed into a space that really only meant to hold about fifty. Iwatobi, being a rural fishing town, isn't much better; packing about sixty-five people in each car during rush hour.

As a result, my face was pretty much smashed into the window. 'I really hope they clean these...'

"–dako-chan! Sadako-chan!"

That voice...I recognized it. My head turned and I immediately picked out a familiar blond in the crowd of people. It was my classmate Na...umm wait. What was it again? Na...na...na –Batman! Dang it! I can't remember his name.

This is bad. This is really, really, bad. Maybe I can pretend I didn't see him, except he's coming over here and that other guy is with him –the one with the blue hair and red glasses –and I don't know his name either. I was about near panicking at this point, looking for some way to avoid my impending embarrassment. Because I would be embarrassed not remembering their names when they so obviously remembered mine, or what they thought was my name. But this train was too crowded and I was stuck, literally cornered by the doors, with no way to weasel my way through the mass of bodies surrounding me and I had no idea how what's-his-face was doing it.

Abort. Abort. Abor– "Ohayou Sadako-chan," the blond chirped stopping in front of me. His magenta eyes flickered briefly in the sunlight, instantly reminding me of the pink hibiscus flowers that grew by my childhood home. 'Pretty.'

"O-Ohayou," I replied unconsciously fidgeting my hands. I couldn't get away with calling them dude, could I? Probably not. "Umm... I'm sorry. But I'm not so good at remembering names."

The blue-haired boy adjusted his glasses, similarly to how George did when he was nervous. "Ryugazaki Rei, second-year. We're in the same class, I sit directly behind you," he said.

Ah, that's embarrassing. I couldn't even remember the name of the person sitting behind me. "S-so sorry, Ryugazaki-kun. I'll be sure to remember now," I blushed leaning forward slightly so my hair would shield my face.

"It's alright. We haven't really spoken to each other before now," he responded scratching the back of his neck, awkwardly. He's really nice too.

"And I'm Hazuki Nagisa! But you can call me Nagisa if you like." The blond interjected, enthusiastically. "I sit behind Rei-chan, so don't feel bad if you didn't notice."

They're both nice. "Okay. Arigatou, Nagisa-kun," I said his first name as he requested and instantly his face lit up. It was really something how he was able to smile a 100-watt smile like that. It was almost blinding. 'I see stars...'

"I didn't know you took this train," Nagisa began conversationally.

"I don't usually. But I kind of overslept this morning and missed my usual 07:15 train," I told him.

"Ah, I see. So you get to school really early," he nodded, "Now that I think about, you are always the first one in homeroom. Why is that?"

There were several answers to his question. The first being that the 07:15 train was typically less crowded than the 07:45 train. Second, I liked to take my time in the morning before classes and draw in my sketchbook. But overall, the earlier train was just easier for me because I was able to have time to fully wake up before class. "I like to get to school earlier because it's peaceful," I explained, "In the morning, there aren't many people so it's quite."

"And you like quite?"

I nodded. "I've never minded it."

"So what do you do?" He wondered.

"Sometimes I read in the library, though mostly I draw."

That quipped his interest. "Really? What do you draw? I can't draw anything, I tried making posters for the swim club, but they didn't turn out very good," he said.

That was kind of a loaded question as I drew anything from buildings to people to plants and everything else in-between. Sometimes my drawing was more cartoonish in nature, while others were like 3-D sketches that jumped off the page. It all depended on how I was feeling at the time. "Umm...I don't really have a preference. I just draw what I see, I guess," I replied.

It was then that the loudspeaker came on announcing the next stop. Nagisa's attention shifted to the speaker mounted above my head then back to me. "Ah, this is where we get off," he remarked. "Sadako-chan, it was nice talking to you. We'll see you in class, m'kay?"

I was confused. I didn't think the school was until the next stop. "But aren't you getting off a stop too early?" I wondered stepping out of the way as the doors slid open and people started to exit the train. Rygazaki had already stepped off and was standing on the platform to wait for Nagisa, who had lagged behind to talk to me.

"We are. But Rei-chan and I run the last length to school," he explained.

"Oh." My eyes darted between the two boys. "Then you should get going or you'll both be late," I said.

Nagisa nodded and stepped onto the platform. But he stopped suddenly and turned back to me as if he remembered something. "Oh, Sadako-chan! Since you've joined the swimming club, maybe you could run with us sometime," he offered.

"Maybe."

Nagisa smiled at my response and waved. "Bye-bye."

I waved back and replied with a farewell of my own. Then the doors closed again and I was once again smashed up against the windows, watching as the two boys jogged down the road toward the high school. Running with them in the morning couldn't hurt. And I wouldn't mind talking to them some more in class either.

I just hope I don't forget their names again...

A/N: Thank you to those of you who have read, reviewed, followed, and favorited this story so far. Honestly, I'm never quite sure how my fics will be received and I wasn't really expecting such a response so quickly.

This chapter is a little shorter than the first one. But I did try to include some of the swim club members in it. I also tried to show a little bit of Sawako's background with her mom and her step-father George. I'll go more into that later.

Please leave any feedback in the reviews or if you have questions you can put those there too. I also accept PM's too. And as always, constructive criticism is encouraged and sought after by me.