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Rain splatters against the sidewalk. Mutsuki darts towards the music building, head down and raincoat pulled over his hair. He clutches his books to his chest. His foot catches in a groove. The concrete surges towards him. Mutsuki yelps as his palms fly out to break his fall. His notebook flaps through the air. His textbook skids several meters in front of him.
Ow. Mutsuki sucks in his breath, flexing his hands. His palms are skinned, red and raw.
"Let me help you," says a voice from behind him.
Huh? Mutsuki blinks. A boy with hair that's half white and half black scrambles to grab his textbook and notebook for him. He holds an umbrella over Mutsuki as he offers him the books. "Th-thanks," Mutsuki whispers. His face colors.
"No worries." The boy beams at him. "Are you going into the music building?"
Mutsuki nods.
"I'm a TA for the musicology class," says the boy. "Sasaki Haise."
"Mutsuki Tooru," he says, getting to his feet.
"Are you okay? That was a hard fall."
Mutsuki nods again.
"Come on." Sasaki smiles at him, reaching out to rub Mutsuki's shoulder and guide him inside. He closes the umbrella and shakes it off. "Terrible weather. I'll see you in the classroom, okay?"
"Yeah. Thanks." Mutsuki heads to the lecture hall, glancing over his shoulder. No one's smiled at him when he messed up before. Usually people would just roll their eyes and think he's an idiot who can't even walk right.
He pushes his way into the classroom, scanning for a seat. Towards the back, preferably. And there's one, in a row of seven seats. He hurries over and asks a boy with purple hair and two moles under his eye if he can slip by.
The boy huffs but tucks his legs back. Mutsuki squeezes past and takes the seat next to him and another boy with orange hair and huge grin.
"What happened to your eye, man?" asks the orange boy.
Mutsuki winces, adjusting his eyepatch. "Some sand scratched it."
"Shirazu Ginshi," offers the orange boy. "You moved into the Chateau, right?"
The overflow dorm. Mutsuki nods. It's not like he had any friends in his old dorm.
"I live there too. I thought I saw you on our floor. You have the single room, right?"
"We all live there," mumbles the purple-haired boy.
"I'm Mutsuki Tooru," he says. "And yeah. I have the single room."
"This is Urie Kuki. He's my roommate," says Shirazu, gesturing to the purple-haired boy. urie grunts at Mutsuki, meticulously writing the date in the corner of his notebook. "I'm the RA," Shirazu adds, and Urie scowls as if this is a personal affront. "This is Yonebayashi Saiko. Shirazu gestures to the blue pig-tailed girl snoring next to him. "Saiko, Urie, and I are juniors. Hsiao Ching-Li, Saiko's roommate, and Higemaru Touma, and Aura Shinsanpei. They're sophomores, and they live on our floor too."
Mutsuki waves. "Junior too."
Aura's hair covers his eyes. Higemaru waves back, gulping a cup of coffee. Hsiao sticks out her hand, a huge smile on her face.
"Is everyone here a musician?" Mutsuki asks.
Shirazu shakes his head. "It counts for one of our general requirements, after all."
Mutsuki lets out a sigh of relief. He does music, but he's not that good, and he knows it.
"It's weird I haven't seen you around," Shirazu comments.
Mutsuki tries to dry his damp notebook. He looks around for Sasaki. No sign of him. "I was an off-campus student until last semester." And then things went poorly once the other kids found out just where Mutsuki had come from. A place for severe juvenile criminals? But you're not even a juvenile anymore!
"Nice. What's your major?"
He's not pressing. The tension in Mutsuki's shoulders dissolves. Saiko snores. "Literature. Yours?"
Shirazu says his is maths, and Saiko's is recreational studies. Hsiao's is also recreational studies, Aura's is theater, and Higemaru's is business. "And yours?" Mutsuki inquires of Urie.
The boy looks at him like he's a leech drinking away his time and attention from perfecting his schedule. "Business."
"Oh. Okay." Mutsuki shrinks in his seat.
"He's an asshole to everyone; don't worry," says Shirazu. "You aren't special."
Urie glares. Mutsuki wants to vanish and reappear in another row.
"Hello!" chirps another voice. A girl with pink hair plops into a seat in the row in front of them. She smiles at them. "You all live in the Chateau, right? I'm Ihei Hairu."
Shirazu flushes. The girl is very pretty, Mutsuki will give her that. Saiko snuffles and then sits up, blinking and rubbing her eyes.
"I'm a senior," chatters Ihei. "And I've been trying to take this class since I started here. I can't wait to see Arima. He plays the violin like me. It's gonna be a tough class, though; the syllabus is packed."
"How do you already have one?" Shirazu demands, rubbing his forehead. His hair sticks up.
"Was it posted online?" Mutsuki wonders. He's worried. If he's already behind—
"No, no," says Ihei with giggle. "I got it from one of the TAs yesterday. Koo—um, Ui. The one with the bowl cut."
Mutsuki peers down towards the front of the classroom. There's Sasaki, standing between a man with a plain face and a man with a bowl cut.
"Professor Bowl Cut," Saiko declares in a low voice.
Hsiao lets out a guffaw. "I like you. You're funny."
"She is," agrees Higemaru.
"Can I see that syllabus?" demands Urie.
Hairu hands it over, beaming. "According to the syllabus, there are two chances for extra credit. I'm going to do both of them." She bites her lip. "If I can."
"We haven't even started studying yet, Hairu," Hsiao points out. "How do you know you'll need extra credit?"
Do they know each other? Mutsuki frowns.
"Tutoring high schoolers, and participating in the memorial concert at the end of the semester," Urie says. "High schoolers. Ugh." His lips almost vanish as he rolls them.
The memorial concert. To mark the fifth anniversary of the incident that hurt all of those professors. Mutsuki gulps. He'd like to participate, if only for the sake of honoring those memories. No one bothers to remember his family, or honor their memories. Then again...
"Do you play instruments?" asks Hairu. "I play violin."
"Saxophone," Shirazu declares. Saiko says clarinet, Higemaru says flute, Hsiao harp, Aura cello.
"Piano," Mutsuki admits. Wow. So we all do. "So we could all participate in the concert."
"Violin," Urie says, barely looking up from his tablet. "Saxophone's such an irrelevant instrument."
"Professor Kuroiwa plays it," retorts Shirazu.
Urie mumbles something that sounds like "my point exactly."
Arima walks into the room, and the din silences. Mutsuki listens as he outlines the semester and hands out the syllabus. Hirako Take, one of the other TAs, give Mutsuki his. They have until the first exam to decide whether to sign up for tutoring or for the concert, or both. From the sounds of things, Shirazu and Urie definitely plan to do the latter, and Hsiao and Higemaru too. Aura hasn't said anything and Saiko said probably not.
"What level are you in piano?" Shirazu asks Mutsuki after the class is dismissed. Mutsuki has the next period off before literature. Hairu waves and flits off to join the group of fan students swarming Arima.
"I've been playing since high school," Mutsuki says, voice thick. Because he started playing when his therapist recommended it. It would help him. Give you something beautiful to create, Tooru. You can make something beautiful. But when he looked at his hands, he just saw blood, and a monster.
"Since elementary school," Urie mumbles. Mutsuki scowls. Why is he being such a bitch?
"Hey Kuki!" calls a voice behind them. Mutsuki turns as a boy with thick eyebrows rushes up to them and slaps Urie on the back.
"Don't touch me," Urie grumbles. Mutsuki hopes they don't fight.
"Good to see you," chatters the boy as if he hadn't heard. "And you must be Shirazu Ginshi. Another saxophone player, eh? Kuroiwa Takeomi. Urie and I are old friends from childhood. Our dads were best friends."
Urie looks as if the next use of the word friend is going to make him strangle Takeomi. His face turns as purple as his hair.
"Did your dad used to teach here?" ventures Mutsuki.
Urie looks at him like he's a green fly. He nods and pushes past, stalking down the path. Gray clouds billow over the sky, but the rain has softened to a drizzle.
"He died in the when the professors were attacked," Takeomi says.
Oh. All of Mutsuki's frustration with Urie Kuki vanishes. Urie must feel so lonely. Maybe he misses his father too.
"Wanna come over my place for pizza for dinner?" chirps Saiko.
"Hey, cat killer!" a voice calls.
Mutsuki whirls, but in the crowd, he can't catch the face who called that. His hands fly to his ears. Did he even hear that, or was it his brain malfunctioning again like the broken clockwork it is? His face burns.
"They weren't yelling at you, were they?" asks Shirazu.
"That's so mean," says Saiko, her lip trembling. "To lie like that."
"It was about Suzuya, wasn't it?" asks Hsiao. She nods over her shoulder.
Mutsuki glances. A boy with black hair and with odd red lines on his arms skips off, splashing in the puddles. Deliberately.
"Yeah, I heard he killed them last year. Heard they caught him and everything," says Higemaru. Aura says nothing, holding his binder to his chest.
"I was too quiet in my old dorm," Mutsuki says. He lifts his eyes and sees Urie paused nearby, glancing over his shoulder. Mutsuki's eyes meet his, and then Urie continues on.
"Ignore them," calls Sasaki Haise. Mutsuki freezes. He smiles at Mutsuki. "Rumors shouldn't follow a person like Suzuya or anyone."
Really? You really mean that? The idea that anyone could think like that gives Mutsuki hope. Rumors have dogged him all his life. Rumors about his father, rumors he was a slut starting in elementary school, rumors about his life at the detention center, rumors about the cats.
Rumors or facts?
Maybe Sasaki would say it didn't matter. No one else ever has.
"We can all help each other," Shirazu says. "Study and all. Except that Urie; he seems to be focused on graduating summa cum laude and doing it all on his own because his dad may have taught here as a business professor but he's still an asshole."
"But his father was killed," Mutsuki says quietly. "That's so sad."
"Do you know him?" asks Higemaru. "He seemed cool."
Shirazu curls his lips as if he's personally offended. "I had classes with him last year. He used to say that people who went to review sessions were nitwits who couldn't learn the material on their own."
"Are there review sessions for our class?" inquires Hsiao. "Like, Arima's notorious for being fair but tough."
"Yep," says Shirazu, glancing at the syllabus. "Thursday nights. Sasaki's holding the first one."
Mutsuki's heart picks up pace. He'll make sure to go to that one. Maybe Sasaki will have advice about literature too.
"Aren't you coming tonight?" Akira yanks her books out of her bag, glancing at Takizawa.
He brushes his shaggy white hair back from his face. "All five of us don't need to be there for every review session. You and Sasaki are taking it tonight. I'll take it next week with Goody Two Shoes and Blank Face or the week after with you again or Mop Head or whoever."
Akira grits her teeth. "I'm wasting whole sentences talking to you when it seems like you don't want anything to do with being a TA."
Takizawa grips the back of one of the seats in the row above her. He peers down at her. "So that's it, huh? You just don't want to be left doing anything on your own."
"Would you?" Akira retorts. You dolt.
Takizawa laughs as if she said something hilarious. "I'm always on my own."
That's your own bloody choice! Akira sucks in her breath. She grabs her mug of coffee and pours it down her throat. It burns. She coughs. But it's better than wasting the energy arguing with this walking headache. She could be spending that energy doing something else. Like planning the review session.
"Good morning," calls Amon Koutarou, striding into the empty classroom.
Akira coughs again, coffee singeing her windpipe. "Morning," she manages.
He nods at her. He doesn't look much different in the five years since she's last seen him. His hair's still dark and gleaming, jaw strong, shirt perfectly tucked into his pair of slacks, and his eyes are still guarded. She tried to talk to him after class the first day, but then she remembered Takizawa's coldness, and she couldn't bring herself to speak to him. She hugged her bag to her chest and stormed off instead.
"Review session tonight," Amon says. "Akira, you and Sasaki from the other section are taking it?"
She nods. Takizawa studies his filthy fingernails. Amon frowns and studies the class roster. "Akira, do you remember Yasuhisa Kurona?"
"I've heard her name," Akira says. Mostly because of what happened last summer. Her twin, Nashiro, developed alcohol poisoning at a party and died.
"Shit," says Takizawa, dragging his hand through his hair. "I saw that news story too."
"I tutored her when she was in high school," Amon says. "And I was getting my masters. Just—try to reach out to her. If you can."
Akira nods. "We will."
"Great." Amon clears his throat. He welcomes the students as they pour in and then gets down to business. He's an engaging teacher, Akira can tell. The way he talks, how he breaks down different concepts—it reminds her of her father. Kurona sits near the back, dressed like a Goth wannabe. But at least Kurona takes notes.
One of the students falls asleep midway through the class. Akira nudges Takizawa. He looks up. She gestures to the student, a handsome boy with dark hair.
Takizawa's eyebrows arch. "What do you want me to do?" he hisses. "They're adults; we can't control them."
Akira scowls. Wasn't disrespect something that set you off before, when we were in high school? She gets to her feet, stalking over. The new Takizawa might roll his eyes but the old one wouldn't have even brought it to her attention. He would've marched over the second he noticed and shaken that student, made him an example, earned the professor's praise.
Amon keeps teaching as if Akira's still in her seat. Akira slips into the seat next to the student. He snores lightly. And then louder.
Are you even asleep? Akira grasps his shoulder. She shakes him. He doesn't move. Now titters echo through the classroom. Amon ignores them. Takizawa frowns now, half-rising from his seat.
"Wake up," Akira snaps.
The student jerks. He lifts his head, smacking his lips and rubbing his eyes. A mole sits on one of his cheeks. "Yeah?" His eyes run up and down Akira.
"You're being rude," Akira says. "If you can't stay awake, drop the class and let someone else take it. We've got a waiting list long enough for—"
"If what you want is for me to pay attention, then why didn't you just say so and then stop talking and distracting me?" sneers the student. He rests his chin on his fist. "Or are you more interested in making sure I make Professor Postdoc feel good in his wittle heart?"
Heat pools in Akira's face. "If you're that—"
"Shh, Mado," croons the student, focusing on Amon. "Clearly I need to catch up. I don't want to miss a thing."
Akira could scream. But she can't. She makes her way back to her seat.
"Do I need to kill him?" asks Takizawa.
Like you care. Akira shakes her head.
"Furuta Nimura," says Takizawa. "Violinist. Music minor."
"You grade his papers," Akira manages. "Or I'll fail him."
"That bad, huh?"
Akira realizes she's gripping her pen so hard her knuckles have turned white. She blows out her breath. She's being ridiculous. She shouldn't care this much.
Class ends, and Akira focuses on the review session. She meets Sasaki back in the classroom at seven in the evening. The boy beams at her. It's their first, so as she expects, not many people show up. A green-haired boy who waves at Sasaki, a tall boy with long hair and a vacant stare, and a boy with pink hair and a smile. Akira works with Hanbee and Higemaru while Sasaki works with Mutsuki Tooru.
"I remember hearing your dad lecture once at my middle school," Higemaru tells her.
Akira nods.
"Your dad?" questions Sasaki.
"He taught here," Akira answers. "He was—a great musician. And teacher. Amon Koutarou was his TA when he was getting his masters."
"Wasn't he sued in the end?" asks Hanbee. He covers his mouth as if he probably shouldn't have said that.
"By a whiny professor who couldn't accept his work was shoddy," snaps Akira. Damn, where did that come from? And then he died. A year before everyone else died. "And the lawsuit was thrown out." And then the Fueguchis died too. A few years later. Or so she heard.
"His daughter goes to school here. She's a freshman," reports Higemaru. "Fueguchi Hinami."
"Oh, I know her," says Mutsuki. "She's in my Russian lit class. But she's only a part-time student."
If her father had been a decent professor, Hinami would have gotten free tuition just like Akira did. Akira's never met the girl and hopes she never does. She can't imagine why Hinami would want to go to school here. Can she really just not let go?
"I met him once," Sasaki says.
"Where did you go to undergrad?" Akira inquires.
Sasaki shakes his head. "You wouldn't know it."
The students leave, and Akira and Sasaki pack up. "We should get dinner sometime," Akira says. "Ui and Hirako too. And Takizawa." Not that he'll come. But they should try. She wants to fit in with them.
Sasaki nods eagerly. "It's strange, isn't it? Not knowing anyone."
"I wouldn't know," Akira points out.
"Oh." Sasaki snorts. "Sorry."
"For what? You've no need to be."
"Then, sorry for saying I'm sorry." Sasaki gives her a thumbs up. Akira can't help but smile in spite of herself. "You have a friend group?"
"It varies depending on who's here this year," Akira responds.
Sasaki gives her a knowing smile. "We could check out that Indian place. I've been wanting some naan bread. I can send an email to everybody? Maybe for some time next week."
Damn, he really is eager to make friends. Akira nods. "Sounds great."
"Good night!"
"Night," Akira echoes. She hesitates, and then heads into the practice room and grabs her cello, positioning it between her legs. She starts with scales, the ones her father taught her. The notes carry her away, back to a time when he might have worked in this very room.
"Up late, Mado?'
She jumps. The strings squeak.
Amon leans against the doorframe, tie half undone.
"You too," Akira responds. "Go away. You're interrupting me." It's amazing how easily the snark comes to her. Just like five years ago.
"How did the review session go?" Amon presses.
Akira continues to play. A hymn fills the air. "It was small. Three students. But at least it wasn't empty."
"Good." Amon leans against the wall. "How's Takizawa doing?"
Now Akira stops playing. Silence screeches in her ears. "He's—well, you've seen him in class." She bites her lip. "Amon, can he even do this? Why is he here?"
"Of course he can," Amon declares. "He's strong. I know he is."
I know he's capable; that isn't what I meant. "He's depressed, isn't he?" Maybe she shouldn't say that. But fuck it.
Amon stiffens. "I don't know, Akira. But he's here. He's capable of getting a masters, a doctorate even if he wants to. He's strong."
Words, beautiful words, but Akira remembers stories of classmates falling apart. But all she can do is nod, grip her cello, and play another song. Amon listens.
"You're as talented as your father," Amon says quietly.
Akira's heart stops. He smiles at her.
Why did you leave me? Why didn't you let me kiss you? Why did you come back? Why now? She can't say any of that. Instead, all she can say is: "I'm applying to DMA programs this semester."
Amon nods, golden light shining against his dark hair. "Good for you. If you need any advice, let me know."
"Actually," Akira begins, getting up and leaning her cello against her chair. She grabs the bulky black case. "Arima says that since I'm working under you, you should write my recommendation."
Amon blinks, and then a smile spreads across his face. "I'd be honored, Akira. Any program would be lucky to have you."
She snorts. "Thanks."
"Your father would say the same thing."
Is this your way of telling me that you still just see me as his daughter, as the girl who got drunk and whom you dragged home, the girl whose kiss you blocked?
"Give me a list of places," Amon says. "I'll make sure you get your recommendation."
And all she can say is "thanks." He's a postdoc. He's teaching, and she's his TA, a masters student, and they're not even.
She wishes they were.
Up next: Urie and Shirazu are Done with each other, and Ui finds himself dragged to his worst nightmare: an undergrad party.