A/N: Oyyyy, I'm doing a rewrite of KB. It's been years since I touched that story. I started it at 15, finished it at 16. Now I just wanna see how much my thinking and my writing has changed.

"Hey, Makoshima-san!"

Two figures—one tall and broad-shouldered and the other short and slender—turned at the same time, making the boy who had called out backpedal.

"Ah, sorry. I meant Tadashi-san."

The girl narrowed her eyes, her gaze flicking between the two males in scrutiny. Then she turned to her brother. "Tadashi... do you know this guy?"

"Y-yeah." Tadashi's grip tightened around the straps of his backpack. "We're... acquainted."

The frown creasing her brow lightened ever so slightly. "Fine then. I'll meet you at the convenience store. Is that okay, brother?"

He nodded once.

As soon as she was gone, pushing her raven hair back as the wind shifted, the boy's face twisted into one of pure contempt as he regarded Tadashi. "You piece of shit. How dare you show your face here again."

Tadashi lowered his gaze. "That was all a long time ago."

"Maybe for you. But for some of us, it still feels like yesterday. You don't have any right to absolve yourself of responsibility!"

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You mean nothing to me anymore." He sneered, starting to turn away. "Though I can't always say the same for the others."

When Tadashi found his sister again, she had finished her shopping and was eating a soda ice lolly. Wordlessly, she handed an unopened one to him, and he peeled it open.

"Well?" she prompted. "Elementary school or middle school?"

Quietly, he confessed, "Elementary."

She sighed through her nose. "I see. I hope you apologized to him."

"I did, but it's not enough."

"No," she admitted. "I guess not."

"Iwa-chan!"

Groaning, Iwaizumi Hajime turned to see his best friend, Oikawa Tooru, sauntering down the hall and pretending not to the notice the admiring looks he got from the two first year girls who had been gossiping busily about a teacher's affair by the window before his arrival. "You know," Iwaizumi said casually as Oikawa joined him in his walk to class, "There's a reason why I left as soon as you disappeared into the faculty room."

"Ahh, don't be so mean~" Oikawa grinned. "Admit it! You enjoy my company. Why else would you keep walking to school with me every morning?"

"We live two houses apart, Shittykawa. I don't have a choice."

"Nonsense, Iwa-chan. You always have a choice, and your choice is me!"

Iwaizumi shouldered him aside.

"Anyway," Oikawa smoothly changed the subject, "Did you hear? There's supposed to be a new student transferring in today."

"Seriously?" Iwaizumi cocked an eyebrow. "But it's the middle of June. The school term's almost over." He supposed, however, that it wasn't entirely unusual. They got new transfer students all the time, Aobajosai being one of the most prestigious private schools in the Miyagi Prefecture.

Nudging Iwaizumi's side with an elbow, Oikawa teased, "We could use this opportunity to get you a girlfriend! Watanabe-chan from the Student Council told me that she's a super cute third year."

"How the hell does she know? Nobody's even seen them yet."

"Ah, you know that girl. She likes to stick her nose into everyone's business. But," Oikawa stroked his chin, mock-contemplative, "maybe she likes the broody types. Then she'd love you—ack!"

Iwaizumi had cuffed him over the head. "Idiot. What if Watanabe-san's wrong, huh? Ever consider that, Stupidkawa?"

"Enough with the hurtful nicknames, Iwa-chan!" Oikawa harrumphed, folding his arms. "Besides, she's always right. Most of time. Sometimes."

"You're fighting a losing battle," Iwaizumi called back as he walked ahead.

"Hey, wait up!"

As the pair made their way to their separate classes, two new faces were changing into their indoor shoes near the entrance of the school. It was mostly the attention of their female peers that they garnered, though most of that attention was directed at the boy rather than the girl. As the boy slipped his shoes on, the girl stood on his left, her hand firmly placed on his shoulder.

"Tsk," the girl clicked her tongue as they both shuffled forward with the rest of the student body, who were all hastily rushing to their classes, "The grades are separated by floors. You're on the top floor, brother. Think you can get there on your own?" Unlike her brother, who had tussled blond hair and stunning blue eyes, she blended in much easier with the crowd, her long black hair and dull grey eyes being quite entirely common. Their uniforms was pressed and pristine—they would have no issues with the school's strict dress code.

"I'm sure I'll be fine," he answered with a crooked smile that betrayed his flustered disposition. He ducked his head a little, whispering, "But Naoko... everyone's staring."

Her face, usually completely inexpressive, lit up ever so slightly in amusement. "You must look like a foreigner to them. Don't worry, brother, your novelty will wear off by next week. Do you want to dye your hair, maybe? That would turn them away a little."

"I'll be fine," he repeated, somehow sounding less certain than before.

"Wow," Naoko scowled as someone's whispers reached her ears, "I'd date her if she weren't so short." She could practically feel his eyes landing on the back of her stocking-covered legs as he added, "And unfashionable."

"Have you seen the guy?" A female student nudged her friend, smiling almost lecherously. "He's so huggable!"

"Ignore them," Naoko murmured under her breath, so that only her brother could hear. "They're just gossipy idiots who can't keep their mouths shut."

They stopped at the bottom of the staircase that led up to the third year floor.

Staring up at the vast, looming stairwell, Tadashi balked.

But then a comforting hand landed on his left shoulder, and the tension eased from his body like water draining from a pool, having come to recognize his sister's reassuring touches. He turned to face her solemn expression. "Naoko?"

"You'll be fine," Naoko told him firmly. "Now get up there before you're late." She sighed, softening slightly. "I'm sorry I can't be with you. With my... track record, there's no way the school would've allowed me the privilege of skipping a grade."

"It's okay," Tadashi mumbled, trying to smile. "I'll be fine, right? We both said it."

Naoko hugged him, squeezing tightly. "Good luck, brother. If anyone talks to you, just answer politely. You don't have to make conversation if you don't want to."

As she watched her brother disappear upstairs, she sighed through her nose, leaning against the wall, as if would support all of her troubles. Already, she could tell that the rest of the school year would be long.

Maybe we should have gone to Karasuno instead, she mused as she ventured down the second year halls, That country bumpkin school seemed a lot more... docile.

Oikawa yawned, slumping over his desk. As soon as he and Iwaizumi had parted ways, his classmates had begun to suck the energy out of him. He tried his best to sit up straight as his fan girls turned in their seats so they were facing him, giggling ever so often. So boring. Where's the new student? Watanabe-chan said that she'd be in my class. After all the hype, he was eager to at least glimpse her face.

At the front of the classroom, the bearded Japanese Literature teacher was hastily sorting through his notes and muttering under his breath about forgetting his folder at home. Class had technically started five minutes ago, and greetings (led by the snooty, blue-haired Class Representative, Kitamura Toshio) had already been chorused.

Some of the more studious students in his class already had their books open to the appropriate chapter, but Oikawa—as well as many of his male classmates, judging by their goofy, grinning faces—was awaiting the arrival of the new transfer student. But seeing as how beloved he was to much of the student population, his true feelings were not evident on his expression.

In actuality, he had not been that excited when he had been told by Watanabe Emiko, the gossipy president of the Student Council, that a 'cute girl' was transferring today. He had figured that she would be just like the rest of them and go after him solely based on his looks and boyish charm. But now all the attention this mysterious girl had received was really driving him toward the edge of his curiosity.

"Look!" someone said after a phone dinged, their busy teacher none the wiser to the illicit device. "Ishida just texted me saying she's super cute!"

"Damn, really? Cute girls are the best. Think she wears thigh-highs?"

Oikawa briefly spared the two male speakers a disbelieving glance. While he appreciated thigh-highs as much as the next schoolboy, Iwaizumi would probably spike a ball in his face if he heard him talking like an older pervert.

"I don't know, fellas," said a third boy, getting up from his seat in the middle row to join the other two in the back row. "They said she was walking with a guy."

"Maybe he's her boyfriend!" piped some girl, doing brilliantly at stating the obvious conclusion.

"They could also be related, Yumi-chan. Brother and sister, perhaps?" a dark-haired girl refuted.

"No way! Yuzuru-kun told me that he has blond hair and she has black hair. They can't be related."

The red-haired girl that sat next to Oikawa narrowed her eyes at the speakers as she turned in her chair. "Whoever she is, she'd better not bother Oikawa-san. Fan girls are so annoying."

It was almost laughable how she kept glancing toward him every three seconds, as if waiting for him to shower her with approval. Despite her words, Oikawa knew her antics quite well—she was no different from the rest of his fans.

He threw her a bone anyway, offering her a charming grin and some honeyed words. "No need to be so harsh, Niyashima-chan, but I appreciate the concern~"

"A-ah!" Red bloomed in her cheeks so that her face matched her hair. "Right, Oikawa-san..."

Honestly, Oikawa thought, exasperated, When's the transfer kid going to show up? I could've done ten jump-serves by now. At least start the lesson, sensei. He looked up at the poor teacher, who was scratching his half-bald head. It didn't seem like Oikawa was going to get any sort of salvation from him.

He was almost tempted to make conversation with his closest seat-mate, Niyashima Anzu, when the doors slid open and an unfamiliar face walked in.

An unfamiliar male face.

Everybody fell silent.

But then the shock wore off, and the classroom descended into a hiss of whispering.

"What?! That doesn't look like any sort of cute girl to me!"

"Is he in the wrong class?"

"The hell is up with that wimpy look? He's just asking to get beat up."

The girls were kinder, albeit a little more forward.

"Hey, he's pretty cute. Think he's single?"

"He looks like a total virgin, too. Not that it's a bad thing."

"What the—?! Don't tell me you're already writing a confession letter, Ami-chan!"

Watanabe-chan... was wrong? Oikawa's mouth turned downward. Of course, she couldn't have been right all the time, but Oikawa had been banking on her information being correct this time around. Ah, geez. What a letdown. He narrowed his eyes. But doesn't he seem... kind of familiar?

At the front of the classroom, the teacher had stopped fruitlessly rearranging his papers and was not encouraging the new student to introduce himself to the class. After some stuttering that left even Oikawa with secondhand embarrassment, the boy managed to spit out the most basic introduction. "I'm Makoshima Tadashi! Please take care of me." He bowed at the waist, revealing to Oikawa the nervous beads of sweat pooling on the back of his neck.

Makoshima Tadashi. Oikawa's hand, which had been clicking away at his mechanical pencil, stilled. I see how it is.

When Tadashi made no move to lift his head, the teacher cleared his throat. "You can get up now, Makoshima. Please take a seat in front of Oikawa. Oikawa, raise your hand."

Oikawa, who had already lifted his arm before being asked, beamed at Tadashi, seemingly the model student.

Tadashi swallowed. "Yessir!"

Much like a robot, Tadashi marched over to the window seat in front of Oikawa's before hastily setting his bag down on his desk and withdrawing his stationary case and the appropriate books.

You don't remember me, do you? The words were on the very tip of Oikawa's tongue. Or are you just pretending? Deciding the gauge the new student a little, he prodded Tadashi's back with the back of his pencil, whispering, "Hey, Tattsun."

Tadashi practically jumped a foot out of his seat. Eyes wide, he turned. "T-Tattsun?"

Skittish, isn't he? "Can I call you that?"

"Er, sure..."

"Great~! Hey, Tattsun, can I borrow your eraser, please? I left mine at home."

"Ah, of course! It's no problem..."

What happened to you? Oikawa frowned when Tadashi's back was turned, the blond almost frantically digging through his pencil case. Acting pathetic like that. Letting me walk all over you. You make me sick.

Finally, Tadashi managed to find the elusive rubber. "H-here, Oikawa-san..."

Once Oikawa had finished using Tadashi's eraser, he returned it and introduced himself properly, "Thanks, Tattsun. I'm Oikawa Tooru, by the way. It's nice to meet you."

"Nuh... Nice to meet you, too."

Outwardly, he smiled easily. "I'm sure we'll get along fine."

Like hell we will.

There was a faint, familiar tug of guilt in her chest that almost had her turning around and returning the keys to the absentminded secretary she had stolen them from, but Naoko ignored it. Honestly, she admonished silently. You'd think they'd have better security...

Expertly, Naoko weaved her way through the crowd, feeling the weight of the keys in her skirt pocket bounce against her thigh occasionally. Not wanting to cause her brother too much trouble, she had avoided heading upstairs to see him during the ten minute breaks in between periods. But now it was lunchtime, and she would drag him out onto the rooftop, a quiet place, for him to report his entire day to her.

Swiftly, Naoko slid the door to her brother's classroom open, about to call out to him when she saw just what was happening.

Namely, two hulking third year boys pressed up against either side of him. The shorter one was offering her brother cigarettes and talking in a low voice.

Naoko slammed the door shut behind her, making them startle.

"Shit," the short one laughed. "I thought it was a teacher. You need somethin', cutie?"

"Step away from my brother," Naoko said, an edge in her otherwise calm voice.

"Hey, hey, we're just trying to be friendly," chuckled the other, a nasty grin on his visage. "Geez, buddy," he turned back to Tadashi, "Don't be such a stiff. Take one."

Tadashi's eyes were wide and pleading when the thug shoved the packet toward his nose, as if were about to punch him. "Nacchan," he bleated, squeezing his eyes shut in humiliation.

"Hey." Before the shorter aggressor could even blink, Naoko's hand had shot out and snatched the packet of cigarettes away. She crushed it in her grip, reducing the cardboard container—and its contents—into a mini accordion of sorts.

"Fuck! You have any idea how expensive those are?! You're gonna pay for that, you bitch!" the taller one snarled. "You're fucking lucky I don't hit girls. Come on, Itsuki, let's get outta here. Better watch your back, Makoshima."

When they were gone, Tadashi breathed out a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Nacchan."

"Pricks," Naoko spat, glaring after the way they had gone. "Should've punched the lights outta them before they left. If they mess with you again, I'll fucking kill them."

Wincing, Tadashi grabbed her arm. "Please don't. It's not worth it."

"Brother, if I hadn't intervened, they would've hurt you one way or another. They're not gonna learn their lesson without a good beating. Words are wasted on them. Tell me if they bother you again."

"Okay..."

"I'm serious, brother." Naoko's gaze hardened. "Tell me so I can take care of it, okay?"

"Alright, alright."

Seeing how upset he was over the small altercation, Naoko closed her eyes and sighed. She tugged his sleeve. "Come on," she urged with a gentler tone, "Let's go to the rooftop to eat. I stole the keys."

"A-again?! This is the third school we've been to that you stole something..."

Naoko didn't bother defending herself. Instead, she merely smiled and said, "Because you love the rooftop, brother. And so do I."

"Geh!"

Iwaizumi looked up from his lunch—the cafeteria's curry rice special—to see Oikawa groan. "What do you mean 'geh'?"

"I left my lunch in my bag. I knew I forgot something!"

Iwaizumi snorted. "Well, hurry up and get it, dumbass. I won't stop anyone who tries to take your seat."

Oikawa sniffed. "Heartless as ever, Iwa-chan."

"Yeah, yeah. Go already."

Humming a tune and greeting various (mostly female) classmates as he walked down the hall, Oikawa felt his stomach grumble. Guh. Better hurry up, huh? Oikawa grumbled inwardly. Knowing Iwa-chan, he'll probably try to replace me with Mattsun or Makki as soon as possible.

He was almost to the door when he noticed—through the windows—some kind of confrontation going on inside. Narrowing his eyes, he pressed himself against the wall—out of sight—and began to spy.

What the? That's Makoshima! And who are those guys? They're not in our class... The last person he noticed was the black-haired girl standing a bit further away from his former bully and those two thugs, her hands balled at her sides.

Then, without warning, she shot forward and snatched the item in one of the male's hands. Cigarettes, Oikawa realized. How very illegal...

Things got loud enough for him to hear.

"Fuck! You have any idea how expensive those are?! You're gonna pay for that, you bitch! You're fucking lucky I don't hit girls. Come on, Itsuki, let's get outta here. Better watch your back, Makoshima."

Disgruntled, the two boys that had been surrounding Tadashi trudged off, their hands in their pockets.

He waited until Tadashi and the mysterious girl had calmed down enough before entering. "Pardon the intrusion~! Hi again, Tattsun." You turned down the cigarettes, huh? What a good boy you're pretending to be.

"Er, hey," stammered Tadashi.

"Just forgot my lunch. I'll see you around."

With that, Oikawa walked off. The last thing he heard before he closed the door behind him was the girl demanding, "'Tattsun'? Who the hell is that pretty-boy peacock?"

Who the hell are you, huh? Oikawa shot back in his head, the question quite genuine. I've never seen your pretty face around here before.

But whoever she was, she was friendly with the boy who had tried his best to make his childhood hell. She was guilty by association.

Oikawa smiled. I can use this.