October 9th, 1995
The sun shines brightly in the clear blue sky; it's approximately eleven in the morning, almost midday. At Teikyo University Elementary School, known best for being a private institute for the more talented younglings, half of its students and staff are spending their time outdoors, working up an appetite for the upcoming lunch hour, for the most part.
Some of the children are playing a variety of sports, such as basketball or soccer; they play with slight caution, as the courts are surrounded by concrete. Other students are either lying or sitting in the grass, passing the time with games based on logic, such as chess or riddles; mind games are a speciality of theirs, and mini competitions, though they tend to get out of hand, are always amusing in some manner. The chaperoning adults simply watch, talking amongst themselves as the children go about their business.
Inside the education facility of the young and gifted, most of the remaining children are in the middle of class, learning different subjects, all of which are crucial to their potential success later in life. Those that remain, outside of that particular group, are inside the library, reading or studying under the watchful eyes of their teachers and the librarian.
Within its center, surrounded by all the bookshelves, are child-sized desks and chairs; all of them are currently occupied, much to the dismay of six-year-old Light, who just wants a place to sit, so he may write lines in peace. In irritation, he tugs on his uniform's tie; it's a lovely maroon red, with tiny white diagonal stripes. His annoyance is justified; some of the kids are using the companion seats as an extra space, mainly to hold their books. For a second, he thinks about pushing them, the books, off one of the chairs but quickly decides against it; he'd just get in trouble and that can potentially alter his spotless permanent record.
Therefore, he walks away from the desks, heading further down the library, hoping to find somewhere to sit, even if it's on the filthy carpet. He tucks his short-sleeved white shirt back into his blue dress pants as he goes; if a teacher catches someone with it barely untucked, there'll be hell to pay. With this in mind, he tightens his gray belt; it's best to prevent a potential argument with any of the adults.
He glances down each column of bookshelves. Everywhere he looks, there are students standing around, browsing and whispering to one another. He pouts, displeased; so far, he's having no such luck in locating a place he can sit alone. By the looks of it, he's likely going to spend the entire time silently complaining about his misfortune; when he heads to lunch afterwards, he's still going to be doing such. He doesn't like his plans getting interrupted, regardless if it wasn't done on purpose.
At the very back, he reaches the last few columns. Surely, no one's back here. However, there is, much to his continued dismay; in the very last section, a single student is sitting on the floor. With unkempt white hair and striking blue eyes, eight-year-old Hajime writes neatly in his notebook, occasionally pausing to briefly skim through the open textbooks lying around in front of him; already done with current chapters for each of his subjects, he words ahead with his notes, prepared for what's to come.
Light silently watches for a few more seconds, his agitation dimming; finally, someone who's trying to get some work done during this short period of time. Although… He hums quietly. Then, he speaks up, perhaps too loudly. "I-"
"Aah!" Hajime yelps, startled; his notebook goes flying out of his hands, briefly soaring through the air before landing some feet away. He turns his entire torso towards Light, eyes wide; his posture shows that he's still a bit frightened.
Light stares at him. "O-kay." He glances back towards where he came, listening closely; no one is coming to investigate the loud yelp of surprise. Interesting. Shaking his head slightly, he looks back towards the weird boy and steps forward, moving closer. Midway, he pauses, leaning down; he picks up the discarded notebook. Fixing the dented pages, he continues walking the final few steps. "I," he repeats, stopping in front of an open textbook, "don't think it's a very good idea, skimming through your work." He holds out the notebook.
Hajime, no longer frightened, just blinks, baffled. "A-Ah, uh, huh?" Lost in his confusion, he hesitates to grab his own notebook from the younger student.
"I don't think. It's a very good idea. Skimming through your work," Light repeats, except slower.
Hajime pouts, sounding sad. "Y-You didn't have to say it so r-rudely…" Slowly, he takes back his notebook. He hugs it closely, anxious. "...A-And it wasn't my w-work I was s-skimming; it was l-later chapters. I just w-wanted to see what comes n-next, to be r-ready for it…" Closing his notebook, he grabs his backpack, which lies nearby. He puts it inside, then reaches beside himself for his folder that contains all the work he's finished. He drops it and all the papers spill out, scattering all over the floor. "Gah!"
Light hums, watching him squirm around to hastily gather up his things. "People will pick on you if you don't work on your stutter, you know." The boy visibly flinches at the blunt remark. Sighing, Light decides to help pick up some of the papers; not out of kindness, but more so out of pity for the older boy.
"I-It's not like I c-can help it," Hajime says defensively, stacking papers together. "I-It just happens… S-Sometimes…"
Light rolls his eyes, grabbing the papers that remain scattered about. "You can help it, if you'd socialize more." It comes as no surprise to him that the strange boy is something of an outcast. Neatly stacking the papers, he hands them over; the boy takes them with a shaky hand. "I'm Light Yagami."
"Hi," is all Hajime says. He focuses more on putting all the papers back inside the folder. Once that's done, he carefully places it into his backpack, avoiding another accident. He sighs in relief. Then, he begins picking up all his textbooks, one at a time, putting them inside his bag, too.
Light watches. He speaks up again as the boy places his last textbook inside the bag. "You aren't going to say your own name?" He's more curious than offended by the lack of a returned introduction.
"Huh?" Hajime stares at him for a second, confused. Then, logic and decency catch up to him. "Gah!" He falls over from his own surprise of his brief stupidity. He bows his head. "I-I'm sorry; I'm Hajime Katsuragi!" He stands up, belongings completely gathered and inside his bag. "..." He tilts his head, confusion returning. "...W-Why do you need my name, t-though? There's no likelihood we'll see each other again." He puts his bag straps around his shoulder.
"Maybe," Light agrees. "Maybe not," he immediately disagrees afterwards. "We'll see, won't we, Hajime?"
"Ummm…" Hajime doesn't know how to respond; Light kind of confused him, again.
"If you're not using this spot anymore, could you move?" Light asks, dully. "I'd like to get some work done, too, before lunch and I don't have much time left to do that."
"U-Uh, s-sure?" Completely baffled still, Hajime steps aside.
"Thank you." Light sits on the floor, exactly where Hajime had been. Opening his own notebook, which he'd been carrying with him the whole time, he starts writing lines; random ones to practice his handwriting, an annoying assignment for English. "By the way," he calls out, hearing Hajime walking away. "You wrote your science and social studies notes together; you should fix that, to avoid future confusion." At the corner of his eye, he sees his new friend face-plant onto the floor; he must have been really caught off guard by the information.
Groaning, Hajime sits up, rubbing his face; his cheeks are red in embarrassment, his chin has a rug burn, and his nose is slightly bloody, from landing on it. Ignoring what just happened, he digs through his bag and pulls out his notebook again. He searches through his notes. When he sees the mistake, his mouth drops and his eyes go wide in horror. "Gaaah!"
"Scatterbrain," Light utters, continuing his work. He just might have to keep the older boy around, at least for a little while.
December 1st, 1995
The weather outside grows cooler, colder with each passing day. Snow gently falls from the sky; although it's not enough to stick to the ground, iced roads may become an issue. Schools are getting closer to reaching winter break; however, if the weather continues to steadily "worsen", they'll likely be let out sooner.
Anju, now thirteen years old, walks down the sidewalk, returning to her home after another day of school. She's attired in the winter edition of her uniform; a bright-red blazer jacket with white trimming, a white collared shirt underneath with a red bow, a coral-pink skirt that comes only an inch above the knees, white knee high socks, and red shoes. She carries with her a black school bag, fashioned with a metallic red bow, an obvious indicator of the accessory belonging to her.
In due time, she reaches her quiet neighborhood. However, instead of approaching her home and heading towards the front door, she passes her house by; she walks to the one next door, her uncle and aunt-in-law's place. She'd rather spend the next few hours with their company than be at home alone with the complete utter silence that would've come with it as she waited for her mother to return from work.
She politely knocks before entering, letting anyone inside know that she's there; she has become a frequent guest at the Yagami household, often arriving around this particular time. "Hey, Aunt Sachiko!" she calls out. Seconds later, the woman in question returns her greeting with one of her own; she's within the kitchen.
Walking inside a bit further, with her shoes now off, she pauses in the living room. Light has already returned home, but it appears he's got a friend over this time; sitting on the floor, criss-crossed, he's working on a paper and across from him, resting on his knees, is a white-haired boy, who's reading through a textbook, aloud. They must have homework over the weekend, too, she thinks.
"Hey, Light," she greets cheerfully, staring down at him and the mystery friend. He mumbles a greeting back, uninterested. His friend briefly glances up from the textbook; he, then, continues reading, except now it's in a whisper. She approaches them, leaning over; she gives Light an awkward hug from behind. She stares at the boy. "I see you've made a friend."
"..." His friend gets really quiet. "..." He raises the textbook higher, covering his reddening face.
"He doesn't like talking very much," Light states, shrugging off his friend's reserved behavior. A mischievous glint enters his eyes. "And when he does, he stutters a lot; it's sometimes hard to understand him." He's lying; he just actively points out the flaw to everyone, knowing it upsets him, in hopes of his friend eventually getting over it.
"..." Behind the textbook, Hajime grimaces, a hurt expression forming; he really wishes that he'd stop letting everyone know about that… "..." He lifts a hand and does a slow, childish wave in the general direction of Light and the older girl. "...H-Hajime…" He points to himself afterwards before refocusing on the textbook, keeping his face hidden from them.
She smiles warmly despite the awkwardness. "Hi, I'm Anju, Light's older cousin."
Although he's still hesitant, Hajime gives her a brief thumbs up from behind his textbook, politely acknowledging her introduction.
Realizing the conversation has ended, and that she's been interrupting them, Anju takes a few steps back and ends up on the couch nearby. She briefly glances towards the kitchen, where her aunt-in-law is; the woman is still slaving away, cooking what's likely to be a fine dinner. Nearby, Light's younger sister, Sayu, is bouncing around the dining area in excitement, uttering what sounds like nonsense to them but important to her. Anju giggles to herself before looking away, digging through her school bag for the books she needs.
Science, biology, history, and literature, she thinks, pulling out each respective textbook. Next, she takes out her notebooks, each for a specific subject. She briefly stares at the four textbooks; she chooses biology first, as it's the thinnest and she'll likely get done with it pretty quickly. She gathers everything she needs for the subject. Before she begins, she briefly glances up to look at the boys; Light has gone back to writing and Hajime, though she cannot hear him, is reading again. Maybe it's a weekend project, she wonders, curious. Humming to herself, she looks at her things and starts her own homework.
She works for ten minutes, quickly finishing the first subject. She puts away the notebook and textbook for it, no longer needing them. She moves onward, to science; she finishes it within fifteen minutes. Putting those belongings away, she glances between her history and literature textbooks; both are very large, nearly equal in size. Which would she rather deal with last? A very long story with questions at the end or an equally long chapter about a piece of history with twice as many questions at the end? She easily chooses to do literature first.
Twenty-five more minutes go by.
Anju has just finished her literature homework and is now moving onward to history, the last subject. She makes sure to put away everything else first, not wanting to accidentally mix up her work. In the middle of her doing exactly that, she notices Hajime; he's staring at her, head tilted, and is sitting a bit closer to the couch. She glances around; Light isn't in the room anymore. Bathroom break? she wonders. She smiles kindly at the boy and gives a little wave, similar to the one he'd given her earlier, before putting the rest of her completed assignments away in her bag.
Afterwards, she opens her history textbook to the appropriate chapter.
"..." Hajime keeps staring. Should he talk? Does he have to? He can just silently wait for Light to come back. "..." He turns his gaze to the textbook she has. "...Wh-What's that f-for?"
She glances back up and smiles again. "History."
"..." He bites on one of his nails nervously. He gazes at her bag. "..." He points towards it. "...A-And the other o-ones?"
"Science, biology, and literature," she answers.
"Y-You already finished t-those?" he asks, eyes wide in awe.
She sheepishly laughs. "It wasn't that complicated, so…" She trails off, becoming modest. "...It was pretty self-explanatory, the answers."
"W-Whoa…" He keeps staring at her in awe.
Left amused by their brief interaction, she stays smiling, even after starting her final piece of weekend homework. A few minutes into working on it, she glances up to check on Hajime, out of sheer curiosity; he has gone back to reading the same textbook as before, Light sitting across from him again. She wishes to assist them but shall wait until they ask for her help; she doesn't want to overstep her boundaries with her cousin's friend.
So, in silence, she continues with her homework, smiling to herself a little longer.
February 16th, 1996
Cold eyes stare out an upstairs window, gazing at nothing in particular. The gloomy weather outside rages on. Dying smoke begins to cloud her vision. Hotaru glances down, towards the backyard; there's a burn pile there, nothing but ashes remaining of what was once her play structures. Even so, her face remains expressionless, concealing her negative feelings deep inside.
She has witnessed many things no child ever should've. She has said many terms no child should have within their vocabulary. Yet, despite the adultery and cruelty around her, a part of her had always remained childlike; at the end of the day, she was always playing with her toys, reenacting the rare innocent moments she'd see daily. Now, she no longer can; her things have been destroyed. Her father wants her to grow up, become one with her feminine side. She doesn't want to, though. Being ladylike is gross; becoming vulgar someday is grosser.
She doesn't understand why he even cares; he has other children to harass instead of her.
Just recently, she found out about that. She always knew he liked being with women, apart from her mother, because the loud, lewd noises she hears every night is the best proof of that but she hadn't known something like that was the result. However, not only does she have quite a few younger half-siblings and ones of the same age as herself, but she also has more than ten older ones, too. Her father gets around a lot, it seems; it must be his goal, leaving behind some form of legacy.
Stepping away from the window, she approaches her bed, sitting upon it. Her expression remains blank but the coldness of her eyes fades into sorrow. She's only seven; she shouldn't even be worrying about becoming a proper young lady, something her mother agrees with entirely. She should be doing what other children do; play, make friends, have a happy childhood. She scowls; she used to play, she's never had friends and likely never will, and she doesn't feel happy at all. One out of three isn't so bad, she supposes with a sigh, her thoughts too mature for someone of her age.
Why can't he ask one of his older kids to be proper, she wonders. This feels more like a punishment than readying me for the future. It…probably is, actually… A punishment… She grimaces and makes a face of disgust; no, thank you. She's perfectly fine the way she currently is; she doesn't need to be prepared for anything. And she's done nothing to deserve this sudden command, so her mother must have really pissed him off this time. I wonder what she did…
Loud footsteps destroy the silent atmosphere; someone's approaching her bedroom.
Instinctively, she sits up straight. With a deep breath, her expression returns to one of emptiness. The light within her eyes dulls, creating difficulty in reading her emotions through them. She's ready for whoever it is, though she has an idea. Seconds later, her father steps into the room.
Dramatically, he slaps his palms together, rubbing them as if brushing away dirt. "And that's that; no more childish games." He stands directly in front of her, crossing his arms. He gives her a stern look. "I see another toy in this room, I'm burning it; understood?" Hotaru nods shortly, staring blankly at him. "Good, because from here on, you'll be learning proper etiquette. Do you know what that means?"
"Be ladylike, not boyish or childlike," she answers blandly.
He nods. "Correct; you're going to become a proper young lady, the exact opposite of your stupid mother." She clenches her fist, grabbing tightly onto her clothing; he doesn't notice. "Your tutor will be here shortly."
She couldn't help herself. "Did you sleep with her, too?"
A loud cracking sound vibrates through the room, seconds after the words leave her lips; she's left with a reddened cheek, courtesy of his hand. He wags his finger at her, face close. "Don't you ever ask me questions like that again or you'll get another. Understood?" His tone is dangerously low.
Fuck you, she thinks. "Yes, Sir," she states, holding back a glare.
"Get yourself dressed in something more appropriate," he harshly says, eyeing her current clothing with disgust. "No more baggy clothes; you're not a boy." Her eye twitches; she's angry. He raises his hand, as if to slap her again. She involuntarily flinches. He smirks. "Be on your best behavior when she arrives within the hour; I will not hesitate to punish you for any foulness." He doesn't wait for an answer; he exits the bedroom.
Gently, she touches her injured cheek; it still stings. She sits there a bit longer, thinking, wondering. Promising herself of a future with brighter days, she does as he requested.