The time that was being spent in that class was creeping by.
A wildly varied assortment of students were straddling the line between awake and asleep, making mischief in futile attempts to ease their suffering.
A small blonde yawned from the back of the room, smiling devilishly as she produced a straw from deep inside her blazer. She was well-rehearsed in how to tear tiny squares of paper from her maths book almost silently, synchronising the tiny ripping sounds with the clack of the chalk on the board.
Not so silently, a pink haired boy from the front of the classroom yelped and twisted around as he felt something wet ping off the back of his neck, earning the class an indignant glower from Mr. Furuhiro.
Some of the class snickered under their breaths, as the assault continued with not even a token resistance from the victim or the watching bystanders.
The pink haired boy, embarrassed, returned to his sums. He was a mechanic, as indicated by the slightly foul scent of petrol that lingered insistently around him, mixed in with smoke fumes and metal. Although he looked to be- and indeed, very much was- a delinquent, what he lacked in linguistics and creativity, he made up for in a brain that made him a walking calculator, a talking physicist and an oppressed chemist.
Mr. Furuhiro often looked at his work and tutted that he wasn't living up to his full potential. Kazuichi Souda had aced even his hardest equations, and the science teachers had high praise for him.
"You keep on getting distracted in class." Mr. Furuhiro remarked to him on a monthly basis, when the month's test results were published. "Can you explain to me why?"
Kazuichi's two answers were both blonde, but not necessarily simple; for one, a childish little demon lurked at the back of the class. Kazuichi shuddered as he remembered her pigtails- or as he liked to call them, horns. The second issue was the blonde woman next to him. Right next to him. At the front of the class. Next to him.
His mind often wandered during class, and his eyes followed suit. If he thought about her luxurious hair, he was usually looking at the silky blonde strands that drifted so gracefully over the back of her chair. If he thought about her legs- and he thought about them a lot- then his eyes weren't far behind in gazing at the porcelain skin.
He would beg for Hiyoko Saionji, a demonic traditional dancer, to be moved to the other side of the planet. On the other hand, the gears of that great big mathematical brain of his spun on a regular basis; how much would Mr. Furuhiro be willing to accept in yen if he moved me onto the same table as Sonia Nevermind?
It probably wouldn't be the biggest loss for him; after all, Sonia Nevermind was literally a princess, and her royal vaults would probably cover that cost a thousand times over when he eventually married her.
His heart fluttered, and he let out a little gasp as he saw her gorgeous green orbs looking right at him…such passion…such ferocity contained within them!
Somewhat reluctantly, Souda tore his gaze from her sharpish and went back over his already-completed sums.
Sighing and adjusting her skirt self-consciously to cover her legs, Sonia tried to pay attention to what was happening on the board. However, Mr. Furuhiro was as bad a teacher as she considered herself to be at maths, and her mind drifted from the sum of 'DR2' and 'ne0' to an assortment of serial killers attacking Souda.
The class droned on for another ten minutes, but the clock hands seemed to be made of lead.
Kazuichi absorbed a lot more spitballs than he wanted to, but was mercifully ignored as Hiyoko exchanged notes with her best friend, a somewhat resigned girl named Mahiru Koizumi.
A hulking mass of muscle sat bolt-upright at the back of the class, diligently working. A stark contrast to the oblivious, snoozing gymnast next to him, and the midget chef poking in wonder at her large bust.
A scarf-donning man seemed content with disregarding the lesson in favour of his hamsters. The girls at the back swapped more notes.
Five minutes to go.
Four. Three. Two. One…
Muffled clanks and bangs were muffled from either side of the Maths classroom, and a general buzz of activity rose in volume, flooding into the hallways. Shadows danced under the gap between the door and the floor, and the class jumped to their feet in perfect unison, stretching out their sore limbs and sloppily piling homework sheets onto their tables.
Mr. Furuhiro scowled at them all.
"The bell doesn't dismiss you! I do!" he spat, gesturing with his finger for them to sit down.
Sonia Nevermind quickly manoeuvred her chair to obey him, and so did another girl at the back of the class, Mikan Tsumiki. It didn't work out so well, and her foot hooked around the table leg. The midget chef beamed gleefully down at her position, only for Mahiru to bat him away.
"Mikan! Again?" She gave the nurse a reproachful look. "Are you OK, though?"
Flushing furiously, Mikan stuttered rapid-fire apologies. The bell cut her off midway through.
Saionji gave a sigh of relief. "Finally! Saved by the bell! Now we can get out of this dumbass classroom, and we don't have to listen to that skank over there blubbering because she's too stupid to move her feet properly."
The small class of nineteen filed out two at a time. Mr. Furuhiro snatched the sheets up, still scowling.
It was Kazuichi's intention to wait for Sonia to leave so that he could talk to her, but to his dismay, she had already walked to the back of the class to speak with the boy with the scarf.
Gundham Tanaka gently dropped his hamsters back into his scarf and coat pockets, Sonia waiting patiently for him to make sure they were settled in properly. Souda fumed silently at the front, making a point of pushing his chair in, and finding other tasks to occupy himself with as Lady and the Tramp made their way down the aisle.
It felt like a wedding aisle, to Souda.
Look at the way he's letting her touch his arm. He's obviously bewitched her, somehow…damn him!
Leaning on his desk, his eyes trailed over them as they flounced past him, with something of a frown in his direction.
"Goodbye, Mr. Furuhiro!" Sonia chanted, waving at the grouch that was their Maths teacher.
Unsurprisingly, his face softened and he raised his hand in farewell. Miss Sonia has that kind of effect on people.
Sonia pulled a book out of her messenger bag and passed it to Gundham, shouldering through the masses of exhausted pupils. Kazuichi squinted, desperate to see the book in question, but his fellow students shoved roughly in front, obscuring them from view. They disappeared from view, leaving the mechanic to trail back to his dorm despondently.
Arriving, he sulkily arrived in the corridor of his class and turned into the boy's section. Frustrated, he jabbed the key into the door and wriggled it until he heard the lock click. He burst in, and looked around, instantly picking up the change in the room.
His junk pile, his workbench, and (thankfully) his 'personal' magazines remained untouched. What struck him as strange though, was the other stuff. A bass guitar from his 'career' as a musician (the band was currently on an, 'indefinite hiatus'). A cheapo stack of baseball bats and tennis balls, from the time he went to the beach with Leon and played baseball. From carnival prizes to DVDs and used textbooks, half of his junk was in here, instead of the spare room.
He dashed out, and gritted his teeth as a bemused-looking Gundham closed his door hastily.
"You!" snapped Kazuichi, still seething from his treachery after Maths. "You've jumped dunk- ah, no- you've dumped all my old shit into my room, haven't you?"
He was met with a glower. "I have not."
"Have too! Only you could pull off something so immature!"
"Ha! What manner of hypocrisy you preach!" Gundham snorted, locking the door in such a nonchalant manner it made Kazuichi want to scream.
"Oh, shut up! You totally have put my crap in there."
"I don't have your key."
"Don't tell me that you can't get in just because you don't have a key! You totally sent your hamsters up the air vent!"
"My Four Dark Devas of Destruction would spend no such effort on a meaningless prank, and neither would I." He narrowed his eyes. "Leave, Kazuichi." The taller man turned away haughtily.
Kazuichi grabbed his shoulder, earning a nip from a hamster.
"I-I-I want answers! I certainly didn't tip my crap in there!"
Gundham turned back. "Kazuichi, do you want me to start berating you for putting my old cages into my room, then?"
"Don't change the subject!" Kazuichi started. Then it clicked. "Wait, what did you just say Gundham?"
Gundham sighed theatrically, and opened his door again, holding it wide open for Kazuichi to see a pile of cat beds, animal hutches and bowls stacked higgledy-piggledy along the wall. A small army of
"You…your stuff's been moved from the spare room as well?"
"Evidently. I want answers." Gundham slammed the door shut and closed his eyes. "I need space to perform my rituals…this clutter provides me with an inadequate meditating area."
"Yeah, fuck off, mate." Kazuichi huffed.
Still bickering, they made their way down to the spare room at the end of the corridor. It was vacant, to their knowledge, and had been used by the boys as an area for them to store all of their unwanted or useless items.
Souda produced a key that he'd had cut, and furiously mumbling, unlocked the door. Gundham reached for the doorknob, but Kazuichi huffed again and kicked the door open.
His mouth dropped open. "The-the room's clean!" Gundham sauntered in behind him, just as a baffled face peeped out from behind a corner.
Kazuichi and Gundham stared at the face. It stared back.
Save for a sticky-up tuft of hair, nothing about the boy stood out. It was a face so normal that it could be considered abnormal.
"Wh-who are you?" screeched Kazuichi, pointing a finger at the newcomer in his storage room.
The boy stepped out, still wearing a t-shirt and jeans. No uniform.
"My name is Hajime Hinata. I'm new to Hope's Peak Academy."