2: Tomoya's New Perspective

"Right," I smile, holding Kotomi's hand more confidently than before. "Let's go,"

The hum of the electronic bell buzzes above us. Smirking, I turn my head towards her. "'Looks like we're both delinquents today,"

"No," she shakes her head as she opens the door. "You're still lazy, but I eventually convinced you to start caring about getting to class on time during middle school."

"You can only do so well at sports," I slip into my seat. "I was on track to earn a sports scholarship, but I needed to up my grades if I wanted a chance of getting into a good school. It was tough, but I realized I'd have to buckle down and start paying attention in class." Yawning, I raise an eyebrow towards her, now two seats to the right of my window spot. "It had nothing to do with jealously,"

"I never said that," Kotomi giggles, placing an Ancient History textbook on her desk. "I just think it's denial to say you're a delinquent anymore,"

"You know," I whisper, "just because you said that, I'm gonna burst into a song and dance number in the middle of our homeroom teacher's introduction speech."

"Good morning, class,"

Our teacher approaches the podium with startling precision. He has a finely-tipped nose, and eyes that constantly remain narrow. High cheek bones and a crescent-shaped frown complete his consternating look.

"Good morning, class," he examines a stack of papers held entirely in his right hand's fingers. "I hope you enjoyed winter break, as your first year of high school is going to be very difficult."

Joy. My face sinks. Another teacher eager to flaunt his authority.

"Middle school may have been a challenge to some of you, but high school is another matter entirely. You will spend three years studying advanced curriculum, whether it be in science, math, history, or foreign languages; each class will be a comprehensive course that paves a road of success for those who wish to head to college."

What about those who don't? I sneer. Not all of us are aces.

"Many have crumbled under the weight of this enormous pressure." He tapped his finger hard on the side of the podium. "But, I am confident that all of you will perform well. While I have to make you aware of the challenges Hikarizaki High School will throw your way so you don't go in half-cocked, I also want to remind you that everyone in this room has an equal opportunity to succeed."

My eyes drift to the ground.

"I believe any student who works their hardest can achieve what they wish to accomplish; not just in the classroom, but in the real world as well. I wish you all the best of luck this semester," he peeks at his attendance sheet. "Now, I'll read off each of your last names. When yours is called, stand up and take a moment to introduce yourselves."

Once homeroom period ends, I continue my conversation with Kotomi.

"That was a bit more inspirational than I thought,"

"Not all teachers are selfish tyrants, Tomoya-kun," she winks.

Flushed, I smother my right cheek in my palm. "Of all of the teachers I've seen this has to be the first who isn't." I look out the window. "It's funny, though,"

She watches me with concern. "What?"

"I worked my butt off trying to get into a good school during middle school, and it paid off. My grades were just good enough to reach the minimum requirements for a sports scholarship. Not only that, my coach said I might possibly the best basketball player on this school's team."

I spin my left arm. "Specifically, he pointed out my left hand was really strong. He said it was a blessing and a curse, though; shooting could turn into an exercise in unpredictably if I don't fix it."

"Yes?" She senses there's more to this than I'm letting on.

"You, meanwhile, worked as hard as you ever did. When you graduated from middle school, your grades were so high, the two best schools in the country offered you scholarships. You had the money, so you could have gone to either of those schools."

I glance at the emblem on my uniform, reading "1974". "Hikarizaki is certainly prestigious, but it's not as high quality as those. The only convenience going here grants you is location, and I doubt you'd care about having to travel far away as long as you had the resources to do it. So, why—"

"Two reasons," she interrupts, flipping to the correct page of our first period Ancient History class's textbook. "One, my parents' research group is based near here. When I got the chance to see the research team test the prototype to the dimension-traversing device, I took the opportunity to read through the schematics for the device, and the theorems the team were basing said schematics on. Once I became well-acquainted with them, by the time I was in eight-grade, I was actively participating in the second part of creating the device; creating a remote device that could send footage of alternate worlds to us. By the end of this week, we should be testing the final version of the machine. Had I not been here, it may never have happened.

"The second reason is more important," she beamed thoughtfully. "If I went to another school, it'd mean we'd rarely get to see each other. Worse, all that work you'd done to keep up with me would have been for nothing."

I stare at the palm of my hand, eyes watering. "That's not fair . . . Even though I worked my hardest, I ended up a burden. You could've accomplished a lot more if—"

"Hey," she hurries over to her seat and grabs both of my shoulders. After a few seconds, I turn my head up to meet with her eyes. "I made this decision completely of my accord. I can accomplish all the things I want to through this school. It may sound just to feel bad about tying me down but bringing it up now serves no purpose but to feel bad for yourself."

I wipe the water from my eyes.

"From the day my parents died, you've never stopped helping me through my recovery. The least I could do is let us spend the rest of our high school days together."

Hesitating slightly, she gives me a peck on the cheek. I instinctively reach my hand to feel where her lips were but I stop myself a moment before.

She's right . . . It's dumb of me to feel sorry for herself. Why am I being whiny about her kindness?

"I'm sorry," I sigh. "I shouldn't have let myself get in a bad mood,"

"No problem," she blinks. "Just try not to do it again, okay?"

"Sure," I stand up from my seat. "So you mentioned the project's all but finished. Do you have high hopes it'll work?"

"My guardian is confident it will," she brings a hand to her chin. "The only thing concerning me is project lead, Dr. Hiromu Hideki. My guardian told me he's always been cheerful and enigmatic, but he's been acting weirder than normal lately. While he insisted all previous milestones be reported to the public, he's insisted closed mouths in the time leading up to this final test. In addition to this, I've overheard murmurs from conversations he has in secret with some of his co-workers in his office. Nishimura-san has confirmed he hasn't been involved in any of those discussions."

Fear washes over my face. Not this again. "Kotomi-chan . . ."

"I'm not putting any weight behind it yet," she clarifies, hands up. "I just needed to vent; there's something Dr. Hiromu isn't telling us."

"'Seems so," I shrug. "The question is how serious the secret he's keeping is."

After first period, my face falls onto the desk with a thud. I'd forgotten how difficult it was to stay awake during class over the course of winter break. My eyes begin to flutter closed.

"Okazaki-san,"

A strict voice above me disturbs my slumber. A dark-eyed female student with short hair who I recognize as the Class Representative eyes me intently. "I will not tolerate delinquent behavior in this class. Only nap during this break if you're sure you can keep yourself awake during lessons."

"I'm not a delinquent," I point to Kotomi. "Ask her and you'll see,"

She rolls her eyes and sighs. "I'm surprised a close friend of hers like you hasn't picked up her better habits."

"You should've seen me in middle school," I crumple onto my desk. "I'll do my best to stay awake.

She nods, a skeptical look on her face. "That's all I ask."

The school day drones on painfully slow. I manage to keep myself awake during each period due to my best efforts. By the end of the day, I'm eagerly anticipating my first meet with the basketball club. I part ways with Kotomi at the school entrance before I dash to the gymnasium. Because of her obligations to help put the last touch on her parents' research project, she elected not to join any after school clubs.

I burst through the door to meet the eyes of five other players and the coach, a burly chested man with a well-trimmed mustache and beard. Smiling at my arrival, he rushes up to greet me.

"Tomoya-san," he greets me with a firm handshake. "Nice to meet you. My name is Miturashi Yamato."

"A pleasure, sir." I grin.

"I've heard you got a lot of talent and skill, so I better see that show on the court." He winks. "Now, you're a few minute early. Once the rest of the guys get here, I'm gonna kick us off with an inspiring speech. Once that's done, we'll spend our hour running through as many scrimmages as we can in the time allotted. I'll have you guys rotating positions each time so I get a feel for who's good at what."

"Got it, sir,"

"Until then," he motioned to the group at the other side of the basketball court. "Socialize; get to know your teammates, otherwise, you'll never learn to trust them on the field."

Nodding, I sprint over to greet them. Three of them pass balls to each other in a simple catching drill. One stands away from the others. He has long black hair with eyes to match, and a determined look on his face.

"What you staring at?"

One of the average joes tossing balls asks me.

"I-I'm sorry," I turn to face him. "Okazaki Tomoya,"

"Hatake Taiuchi," He shifts his scarlet-colored eyes to the player I was watching. "That's Hanzo Yuichi. He's come in as the best middle school player in the country."

That good, huh? "What team did he play for?"

"The Fighting Dreamers," he grins. "'You played them before?"

They weren't in our division, but memory of them returns. Their star offensive player was a guy who looked almost exactly like Yuichi does now with flowing dark hair and teeth that were constantly clenched. We only faced his group twice and lost miserably both times.

"He's that guy?" I whisper.

"You remember, huh?" Laughing, he puts a hand on his hip. "The first thing he did was walk up to the coach and promise he'd earn the top offensive spot. I've heard your pretty good, but that guy could wipe the floor with you."

He shoves me forward. "Why don't you two get to know each other?"

Might as well. I sigh as I approach the prodigy. He eyed me with precision and focus I'd never seen from someone my age.

Well, besides Kotomi-chan of course.

"Hey, I'm—"

"Your stance," his eyes darted to my feet. "It gives away your strength."

This guy sounds like he was ripped straight from a shonen manga.

"When you sprint, you lead with your right foot, indicating your right handed." He narrows his eyes. "From what I remember from our games, you aggressively pursued anyone with the ball until the opponent gave. You were willing to work with your teammates, but only after you had the ball. Until then, any tactic was fair game. Had you been aware of your partners' abilities, your team would have been performed much better."

You haven't realized how much I've grown since then. Still, I better play along, or I'll reveal where I get my confidence. "You talk big," I smirk cockily, adding to the atmosphere. "Let's see whether you'll be talking smack once I waste you on the court,"

A couple gasps erupt from my side. What was so daring about that? It has to be the dumbest thing I've ever said. Are they really that desperate for drama . . .?

"That's all I ask," he smiles psychotically. "When that whistle blows, I'll show you what it means to be a prodigy."

Edited August 12 9:06 PM