AN: Ack! I didn't realise how small these chapters actually look! Did you know this comes to a page and a third on a word processer? Waaa!! Neeways... I already have up to chapter five written, so after that the updates will slow down somewhat... Sorry about the chapter length guys... But it can't be helped... *waves* Jaa ne!

Chapter 3

"Omi Tsukiyono?"
Slowly, Omi lifted his head up off the desk.
"Hai." [Yes.]
The teacher gave him an evil look. "I beg your pardon?"
"Hai... sensei?" [Yes... Teacher?] Omi cautiously tried adding the extra word.
Tapping the top of the register with a finger, the teacher narrowed his eyes towards Omi. "I don't care where you say you're from Mr. Tsukiyono," he muttered quietly. "In my classroom you will speak English. Do you understand?"
Omi nodded mutely and dumbly before re-finding his voice. "Hai... [Yes...] I mean, yes sir..."
"Now, Mr. Tsukiyono, answer my register properly." He paused for effect. "Are you present?"
Omi nodded again. "Yes sir."
The teacher nodded curtly before continuing down the register.
Omi sighed slightly, lowering his head back onto the desk in resignation. Today was going to be another bad day. He could feel it.
Swearing slightly he remembered his English homework. He'd not finished it. He knew there was a reason he'd had to stay up last night. But there was nothing to be done about that now. He was just going to be told that he had another detention in a language he barely understood.
And to be perfectly honest, the Japanese teenager was past caring.
He looked up again towards his teacher. Their gazes locked for a moment and Omi swallowed hard. The man was foreboding and just felt, wrong, somehow.
But then again, students and teachers were supposed to have that kind of relationship around here weren't they? May as well go with the flow, as they say.
Having been dismissed from registration, Omi slung his bag onto his back thoughtfully. He didn't even know why they were here yet. When he'd inquired that morning about Aya and Yohji's outing last night he'd been told that there was still no information. If they had information on the target then they weren't telling him. Omi just wished they would hurry it up. Not so they could complete the mission, but just so they could get out of here.
Just as he was approaching the door, still thinking about the mission and how quickly it would be over, someone collided with him from behind. The force slammed him into the classroom door, catching the handle under his ribs painfully.
Clamping down on his lip determinedly, Omi took a pace backwards, clutching at his side. This was regular too. He should have been on his guard by now. He'd avoided it yesterday.
Setting his bag down, he kept a tight grip on his injured waist and leaned heavily against the wall attempting to recapture his breath. The teacher bustled past him, pretending not to see what had just gone on, an armful of papers attempting to cover his escape.
Omi glared at him. How could he just ignore that...? But then again, Omi supposed he was different. And everybody was afraid of things that were different. Grimacing, he took his bag up again and headed to his English lesson. The one where he was supposed to hand in homework...

Frowning, Omi ignored the irritating voice in his ear as he zipped up his pencil case determinedly.
"C'mon Omi? I only wanna borrow a pen..."
"No."
The green-eyed blonde beside him ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "A pen," he went on dramatically. "My kingdom for a pen!"
"Keep your kingdom..."
"Ooooomiiii!"
"Chigau!" [No way!] Omi then paused realising what he'd said, the language he'd said it in, and the volume he'd said it at. "I mean," he continued quietly, glancing around. "No... You should've brought your own..."
Tilting his head to one side curiously, the boy murmured something quietly.
"What?"
"Nihongojin?" [Japanese?]
Omi blinked and nodded slowly. "H... Hai... Boku wa nihongojin desu. Anata?" [Y...Yes... I'm Japanese. You?]
"Iya. Gomen. Boku wa amerikajin desu." [No. Sorry. I'm American.]
"Demo... Anata wa..." [But... You're...]
There was a rapping of a ruler on the blackboard as the petite British woman taking the class summoned their attention.
Omi never took his gaze from the young American beside him.
The boy glanced back towards Omi and winked. He leaned towards Omi slightly so as to mutter, "I hate to be disrespectful, but could we speak English? My Japanese is nothing to yours..."
Omi started to reply in Japanese but cut himself short. "Yeah, but my English isn't too good..."
"Better than my Japanese."
Omi nodded decisively. "Okay." Then he paused and looked up quizzically. "What's your name?"
"Richard."
Omi nodded and smiled. He was finally making friends. Maybe things were going to get better.