THREE
As Aomine sat in another lobby chair with less padding than before he considered submitting an inquiry into investigating genetic anomalies to explain if a mutation had mysteriously erupted and increased the height average of Japanese males. It had only taken a few seconds after seating him for the principal to figure out that he could not understand English. She'd excused herself, poked her head out of the room, and jabbered a command beyond, then returned to her seat, sinking into it comfortably. Thirty seconds later a boy that Aomine could only describe as a tree ambled inside. The third towering Asiatic person he'd encountered in the last twenty minutes.
The newcomer was tall and broad, with thick arms and large hands. Short messy brown hair topped a face with long features and almond eyes set below a pair of hefty yet tamed brows. From the shoulders hung a loose pink t-shirt and an orange armband snuggled the left sleeve where Aomine could interpret a leg and arm of a capital A. Everything about this guy screamed big. But as foreboding as his stature implied he appeared laidback and harmless. What was the word for people like this?
Gentle giant. And they may have hit the nail on the head with this one.
Aomine sat with mild irritation as the two bandied words, feeling like an infected kid trapped in a bubble that everyone kept bouncing around, avoiding responsibility. Finally the tree turned to him, a stupidly honest smile stretching his lips, and held out a welcoming hand.
Aomine hesitated, unaccustomed to western greetings, but accepted the offering.
"I'm Kiyoshi Teppei," he said in Japanese. "Aida tells me you've gotten into some trouble already on your first day."
Considering that he'd coldcocked a kid that was an understatement.
"Something like that."
Kiyoshi snickered, arced around him, and plopped onto the neighboring seat.
The principal leaned forward, elbows propped on her chair armrests, fingers woven together. She asked that Kiyoshi understand the extent of the situation from him and translate it to her so the matter could be resolved. So he expounded the affair. How Cornrows approached and taunted him, possibly using derogatory slurs, then appropriated his schedule. With provocation, Aomine reacted and dropped his harasser to the floor. He made sure to express clear intent to disarm, rather than injure. Kiyoshi relayed the information and once he finished, the principal stroked her chin, her other hand drumming the polished armrest.
"Alright," she said and pointed a finger at Aomine but kept her attention on Kiyoshi. "This will be a warning. Daiki's new in this country and misunderstandings are to be expected until he conforms to the language." Kiyoshi was allowed a moment to interpret her words. She looked to him and continued, "But that does not make you immune to disciplinary action. Punching out other students is a violation and will be dealt with severely if you repeat it."
Once he was informed, he took a moment to clarify something that was bothering him. So he turned to Kiyoshi and asked, "Why did she call me Daiki?"
Kiyoshi's brows shot up in surprise then sunk as he laughed good-naturedly. "She's unfamiliar with Japanese cultural mannerisms when addressing people. Born and raised here with third generation parents. Practically an American. In this country, the given name is used."
He didn't hesitate to scowl and chanced a peek at the principal, who sat patiently and unbothered. How, he did not understand. Being in a position where you felt deaf and mute to all those around you was becoming immeasurably frustrating.
"Well, I don't like it," he said.
Again Kiyoshi laughed. "I mean this without disrespect, but you'll find that the kids here are too accustomed to familiarization. You'll be hearing your name possibly until you graduate."
He repressed the urge to hang his head. Had he paid attention in middle school, he would have been prepared for this cultural idiosyncrasy. Now he would have to weather it with everyone he came into contact with and, until he learned to convey his distaste with it, he could do little to change it.
"I think you meant to say the kids are too ignorant."
Kiyoshi smiled.
The principal cleared her throat and both he and the gentle giant attended to her. She pulled back her sleeve to view her watch then shoved out her chair. He intercepted the signal, as did Kiyoshi, and both stood with her.
"You'll be his buddy until he acclimates to the school, Teppei," she said and Aomine withheld a sneer. "See him to his classes but don't skip your own."
The dope saluted her and they were ushered out of the office.
They paced the halls of the second level of the atrium—where administration was located. Beyond a chest-high barricade laid the lunchroom below where a series of retractable benches formed five orderly columns. Strips of red and black banded the wall at waist level, racing past locker stands and classroom entryways, all ruddy in color. Red tiles stretched on, though in a less saturated shade that gave a lukewarm feeling to the place.
Kiyoshi nudged his arm and curled his fingers beckoningly.
Aomine produced the schedule and handed it over. "Playing tour master?"
"They'd have to pay me," Kiyoshi smirked, eyes glued to the crumpled sheet. "And because I'm seventeen that would be child extortion. Think of me as a big brother."
"I hear they have self-help classes for those types of complexes, Kiyoshi."
The giant laughed. "Call me Teppei, please."
He scrunched his nose.
"Your choices are either Teppei or oni-chan."
Aomine groaned, head dipping back with a hint of frustration. Kiyoshi may act like a dope but clearly he was more clever than he let on, meting a dose of obstinance that warned Aomine respect my culture and I'll respect yours.
He lifted his head and sighed.
Kiyoshi's lips peeled back with ecstatic vigor.
The enthusiasm overload was starting to bog him down. How could a person smile so damn much? He decided he'd seen the last of them from this oaf today and engaging an emotionally draining day of academia while being the target of scrutiny, scorn, and biased observation was more tolerable.
So he bopped the lug's shoulder.
"Don't you have a job to do? Lead the way, Teppei. Room 219 isn't gonna find me."
. . .
8:25 AM
Kagami plowed the halls after descending to the ground floor, feet seeking the desired classroom. The hall pass clenched tight in his fist permitted his post-bell stroll. He threaded through the lunchroom, found an exit, and hugged a locker-lined wall bracketing the quad. Numbered portals broke the chain of compartments every forty feet, square porthole windows allowing a peek inside. He could easily have crossed the quad to reach his class on the other side. The terrace unraveled thirty-by-twenty yards and was dotted with towering birch and drooping oak, all slobbering with Spanish moss. Bunches of oleander and sprigs of firebush margined four intersecting pathways. Shy of a dozen park tables lay strewn about, their addition meant to preserve the turf from sustained abuse by students. But he needed time to cool down.
Aida's criticism weighed heavy on his mind.
How many times had he been reprimanded for Haizaki's aggression, his innocence questioned and testimony disregarded?
Too many.
He brought the hand not clutching the hall pass to palm his forehead, brushing his fringe aside.
His temper always had been a problem.
Especially when his attacker knew which buttons to push.
And Haizaki was a quick study.
A voice from the quad halted his thoughts and he stopped. "A little late, aren't you?"
Ambling across the lawn came a familiar face. Male, about his age with blond hair that capped the head in short spikes. Thin brows swept over narrow gray eyes and oval-rimmed glasses. The body was trimmed with lean muscle that suggested some form of athleticism. Kagami overshadowed him by half a head. Rung around the left sleeve of a charcoal graphic tee was a yellow armband imprinted with a large typeset A.
The captain of Arlington's varsity basketball team. Hyūga Junpei.
Kagami straightened as the captain neared.
"Not like you to play hooky, Taiga." The address was acceptable.
Hyūga was one of many second and third generation Japanese-Americans with little to no cultural attachment to their national heritage. A disposition Kagami understood well and was himself adjusted to. Few people, aside from school administrators, used his surname.
He sighed, "Yeah. Came into a little disturbance this morning."
Hyūga cocked a brow, appraising him curiously before homing in on his closed fist. He gestured to it and said, "Should I be concerned?"
Kagami shoved the slip into his pocket. "No. And shouldn't you be in class, Jun?"
A tiny wire of purplish white light jutted from Hyūga's crinkling eyes and Kagami flinched.
He tried to escape Hyūga's dissecting glare by diverting his eyes.
Needle-like pain pricked his neck and his hand clamped over the sting. Not again.
He glared at the captain. "Watch it, sparky."
No amusement filled Hyūga's stare. Only scorn.
Then he understood.
"Who told you?"
"Who said anyone had to?"
Kagami rolled his eyes. "Alright, Detective Conan. Explain your so-called findings."
"This isn't the first time I've seen you stride the halls with that melancholic self-loathing expression. So what happened?"
He really did not want to admit to punching Haizaki. That would only validate Aida retracting her accountability.
Hyūga's voice took on a demanding undertone as he called for Kagami's attention.
He grumbled indignantly, shrugging his bag higher. "Haizaki baited me and I hit him."
He tensed, eyes screwed shut, expecting another shock. School doctrine enforced heavy regulations on Apparitions, identified by color-coded armbands, to limit any expression of power during hours. The captain studied the restrictions of his breed and found a loophole. Hair-thin bolts were not expressly forbidden because little harm came from them.
Bullshit.
He cracked an eye open warily to see Hyūga's raised hand hovering before his face, middle finger cocked and loaded against a bowed thumb. A zing of electricity bit his forehead when the captain flicked him.
Kagami slapped Hyūga's hand then went to soothe the pain. "God dammit, will you stop that?"
"Quit disappointing me and I'll consider it."
"Like you've never been harassed by Haizaki."
Hyūga scowled, eyes flickering with insult. "You know I have."
Kagami pursed his lips. Right. Unsafe territory.
Hyūga deflated. "If you've any hope of making varsity, stay out of trouble. I'm not telling you to turn the other cheek, but don't give him your third strike either."
"Ken'll roast my ass before I get my third strike."
The captain chuckled and popped his knuckles on Kagami's shoulder. "Get to class."
He smiled and watched Hyūga's retreating form disappear into the portal he'd earlier used.
Strangely his temper had weakened but he paid it no mind.
He diverted to the nearest quad passage and smoothed the hall pass as he neared his first period class.
It would be okay.
Hyūga braced up and became impervious to Haizaki's torment.
And so would he.
. . .
East Arlington
8:30 AM
Akashi's concentration was interrupted by a soft vibration in his pocket. He maintained an air of diligence over a spread calculus textbook and surveyed the instructor's watch. The aging woman with a bob of thinning blonde-gray hair reclined in a plush swivel chair with a Styrofoam cup in one hand and a folded-open spiral notebook in the other. No immediate threat of detection. It was not his way to text in class, but it was rare to receive one while lessons were in session.
He fingered the device and brought it under the lip of the desk, sneaking cursory glances to access a new message.
It was from Junpei at Arlington high.
Taiga got into it with Haizaki again. Looks like he fucked up his knuckles or something. Deal with him.
A displeased sigh passed through his nose. When would Taiga learn?
He bounced his eyes between the screen and pages laden with graphs and equations to thumb a response.
I'll take care of it.
The phone was returned to his pocket. He wished he could say it had been a while since he had intervened on behalf of his brother's impetuous nature. Well, half-brother to be accurate. The circumstances of their relation were far from traditional and average. A product of suppressed affections, a culturally-inspired dedication to preserving commitment, and parental arbitration. But Kagami Kenshin overcame those obstacles and raised two boys from separate mothers whose only commonality was their unusual red hair. Age had been a factor that disrupted any chance of bonding as youths, Akashi's mature intellect was too advanced for an attention-starved Taiga to understand and adapt to. Akashi only made the effort when he learned of the black mark tarnishing Taiga's childhood. They did not possess the nuclear brother-brother relationship. But they were family.
He glossed the material laid out before him, interest lost. Four incidents had transpired since late August, all of which had been reported by Junpei and each time Akashi slid down off the fence and coerced Taiga to mind himself. He even offered friendly basketball scrimmages on their home court to drain what he believed to be a surcharge of energy. But something had his brother coiled tight.
Striking another student was a problem that he needed to mitigate quickly. Any aspirations of being recognized for professional basketball would disintegrate if his brother punched out every aggressor who triggered him.
His distant gaze found the windows towering on the other side of the room where sunlight faded in between splits in the clouds. Along the wall of pine and cypress he spotted a hawk scouring from a scraggly branch for its next meal.
Well there was an idea. A third party opinion would help.
But he wouldn't seek the hawk.
Rather the hawk's keeper.
Again with stealth, he retrieved his cell phone, filtered through his contacts and found Midorima Shintarō.
His thumb skated across the keys.
Meet me at the usual place for lunch. I need your ear.
I wasn't going to include Akashi's part in this chapter, but it was relevant to Kagami's predictable stupidity. Don't ask me why but I enjoy the idea of Akashi and Kagami as brothers. (Not entirely because of the red hair, either.) For the same reasons delineated in TWCH, I kept Hyuuga's hair both short and blond.