Chapter Two: She Doesn't Play Well With Others

Yet another new school.

As I walked through the front gates – only fifteen minutes late – that was pretty much my only thought.

A brand new school, in a new country, where I can see how long it takes for the teachers to get sick of me. As far as my experience went, that usually wasn't very long. Apparently, esteemed educators do not appreciate being upstaged in class. They also, seemingly, don't welcome their desks, classrooms, or any school property for that matter, accidentally catching fire. Tch, figures.

My new school was remarkably… unremarkable. It was average in just about every way. Neat and tidy, but it wasn't overly polished or new. According to all reports, it had average grade rates and there was no particularly outstanding athletic ability within the student body. The normality was a nice change from stuffy rich schools, idiotic private tutors, and schools for troubled youths.

For all appearances, it seemed my parents thought the change of scenery and a fresh start would do me good. I scuffed my – incredibly non-regulation, knee high – boots against the concrete as I restrained a scoff. My father was married to his high-level executive job and my mother was in France, visiting relatives with my half-brother and her new boyfriend or husband or boy-toy or whoever it was she was taken with now. In reality, my parents thought the change of scenery and the independence might get me out of their hair.

I found my classroom easily enough thanks to the fact I'd already memorised the school map, and an easy glance up at the sign stating "First Year Class A" confirmed my destination.

Not bothering to knock, I slid open the door and studied my new classmates with a half-glare. Taking in their general appearance – ranging from neat to rumpled, but all the proper school uniform – I almost sighed. They looked so boring. One guy in the back seemed to agree with me, his dark head resting on his desk, apparently asleep.

The teacher jumped at my entrance but quickly turned to face me. A sharp (and well practiced) glare on my part easily prevented him from commenting on my appearance, although he gave a disapproving look at my long, silvery – apparently an unacceptable colour – hair, knee-high lace-up boots and the multitude of rings and couple of chunky bracelets I'd taken to wearing.

Making no move introduce or excuse myself, I stood in the doorway waited until he cleared his throat awkwardly and turned to address the class.

"Ah, everyone, this is your new classmate, Akira Conti. Miss Conti has been studying abroad," his gaze turned timidly back to me, "I'm Mr Yamaguchi, I hope you feel welcome here."

I nodded once to him, and then drew my eyes over the class again, with a lazy glare, looking for a spare seat. The only free place was up the back, next to a short-ish guy with straight blonde hair who was sitting next to the guy who was still asleep.

As the teacher continued with whatever lesson he was pretending he could teach, I uncaringly leaned back in my chair and propped one foot up on the other knee, getting comfortable.

The blonde guy next to me looked worried.

"Hey," he whispered, causing me to shift my attention back to him from the diamond-shaped crack in the ceiling. He blushed a little and looked taken aback at his own boldness but continued nonetheless, "Mr Yamaguchi is pretty tough, you don't wanna get in troub-"

He was interrupted by a reprimanding, "Mr Sawada? Is there something more important than my class that you must discuss? I believe you can inform me in detention, seeing as you conveniently missed the last one."

I glanced to the man, surprised. From his timidness just moments before, I'd guessed he was a pushover. Maybe he was just brave against the pathetic like this 'Mr Sawada' sitting next to me.

Seemingly encouraged by his own power, he turned to me and gave me another disapproving look.

"And Miss Conti, that outfit is not the appropriate uniform! I believe a detention should make you understand proper personal grooming."

I lazily blew my fringe out of my eyes as I shrugged and muttered a soft 'Whatever', before returning to my ceiling-gazing. It wasn't like I had anything else to do.

For the rest of the day, classes were, generally, boring.

As I wandered to the room which the teacher had told us to meet him in for detention, I curiously wondered who the delinquents were around here. Hours of sitting still listening to lectures I already understood made me itch to release some energy. My knives were strapped just inside my boots calling me to assert my dominance on my new playground. I always liked beating up thugs, not only was I doing everyone a favour, but they always tended to underestimate me right up until I left them crawling back to their mummies, crying.

Sighing, I supposed I should resist those kinds of urges. After all, it didn't seem like such a bad place and at least there was no Mother and Father.

The detention room, I discovered, was actually the teacher's personal office. As I entered I vaguely noticed his diploma hanging on the wall and some photos of – I supposed – his family. Already waiting in the two available seats were the blonde guy who'd talked to me – the so-called 'Mr Sawada' – and the black-haired guy who'd been asleep.

The dark-haired teen looked up at my entrance, standing up and offering me a grin and his chair.

"Yo! I'm Shinsei," he greeted with more enthusiasm than a person should have, well in my opinion, ever, "First day here and you already got detention? Man, you must be unlucky!"

He laughed in a friendly manner, with no hint of mocking, and it grated on my nerves.

"Akira," I answered in a bored and more than slightly annoyed voice, accepting his invitation to sit but hypocritically glaring at him for the sexism all the same, "I'm Akira Conti."

"And this is-" Shinsei happily continued, as though I hadn't already turned my back to him before he was interrupted by the blonde guy who'd tried to warn me in class.

"Er, I'm Mikomi Sawada," he said then looked straight at me – which even I could tell was a rare thing for the timid guy.

And there was something in his eyes that caught me and made my own eyes widen in surprise. I still can't describe it but it was something, charisma maybe. But it compelled me to offer this Mikomi a small smile and an unusually polite 'nice to meet you'.

The exchange was interrupted by the teacher entering with a rather creepily happy smile on his face.

"For your detention today you'll be cleaning out the disused storeroom by the back gate," the old creep announced with barely restrained glee.

I groaned, brilliant manual labour.