Something New: The Dark-haired Jerk
"You need to dress conservatively. You can't flounce around anymore… Yuka, are you listening to me!?" Lal Mirch scolded. "I've been lax about it before because I don't have the time for this," and she flailed her hands around to signify putting up with Yuka's teenager quirks, "But you will follow the rules from now on. You will act proper and you will act normal." Lal Mirch sat, propped up high so she could cut Yuka's hair. The tone of the scene is a family-orientated comedy sitcom.
Yuka was miffed, to say the least. She couldn't even paint her nails. "And aren't you the perfect role model?" Yuka sulked.
"Yuka, this is serious. If Squalo finds you, that's all there is to it. You won't stand a chance. So stop acting like a fool and hold still. I can't cut your hair if you're jerking around." Lal whacked Yuka on the head, her husky voice soft and militant.
"Oww. But, I just want a mirror!" she protested. There was a compact mirror on the counter.
"Heh. You can look when I'm done." Lal Mirch smiled maliciously.
"What!?" Yuka quickly turned around and swiped the scissors from Lal and ran to the mirror in the bathroom.
"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU! I can't go to school like this!" Her hair was cut completely uneven. Strands in the back were much shorter than parts of the front. At least her bangs were untouched.
"Then listen to me when I tell you to stay out of trouble. This Midori Incident," she said hopping onto the sink and shuffling to stand in Yuka's face, "is something that your mother did not want to happen."
"Mom?"
Lal Mirch whacked her for interrupting.
"Things have settled down. Tomorrow night, we're training. You'll get the brunt of your punishment then." Not good. There was training, and then there was Midnight Punishment Training: an entire night of mountain climbing, soccer field suicides, and hand to hand combat training with the one and only Lal. The infant woman hopped down and disappeared, and the girl was left to herself and her reflection.
"What did Mom say?" but no one answered.
Fuming, she began, carefully, to salvage her hair.
At some point that weekend, Yuka met Tsuna, Yamamoto, and Gokudera. The entire affair was chaos and a half with lost pythons and an assassin weed-whacker. However, for the life of her, she could not remember Tsuna's face afterwards. She wondered how Haru had ever become impressed by him, but before the thought could be further reflected upon, Lal Mirch kicked her ass and other larger problems distracted her.
On a crisp, breezy Monday morning, Yuka set off for school. As she waved to the mailman beginning his rounds, she grumbled about how she did not look herself at all. No, she looked like a two-year-old, with her short cut peachy bob and freshly pressed Namimori uniform. The mailman looked at her in confusion. He thought she looked familiar, but just simply could not place her. Ahh! It was the girl who saved him from yet another dog whose favorite flavor was mailman. He then waved how-de-doo cheerfully.
But Yuka only looked blackly at the ground this lovely morning. Her appearance was, perhaps, saved from utter immaturity, by a new pair of black, horn-rimmed glasses of the sort worn by huffy, shut-up-you-little-hooligans librarians. Or, like Mrs. Igarashi. Or, like, nobody. Her mother's ring, attached to a silver necklace, was concealed under her blouse. She rubbed the talisman furiously, wishing her frustrations away. The purple jade grew darker and darker and, unnoticed, almost seeming to swirl. Yuka persuaded Lal Mirch to let her wear it, as long as she kept it hidden. It wasn't a hard argument to make—Lal had always preferred that she wear it.
Even though the rising sun warmed her shoulders, Yuka was cold with gloom. I miss walking with Haru. I miss dressing up. She didn't want to change schools and she never missed the exalting school roof, the old marble gateway, or the lurking Mrs. Igarashi more. Little tickling caterpillars crawled around in her gut, eating her edges as if she were a leaf. It was new water.
Turning the corner, she bumped into Yamamoto and Tsuna on their way to school.
"Yuka-san. Good morning!" Tsuna waved.
"Yamamoto-san, Tsuna-san, what's up! Hey listen, Yamamoto, can girls join sports clubs like the baseball club at Namimori? You told me about Baseball Club last night, but uh, the snake tried to eat his kid brother…."
"He's not my brother!" Gokudera said, coming up sourly beside Yuka and butting in. "How can a four-eyes play sports anyway. You look like my grandmother with those spectacles." He pointed at Yuka's horn-rimmed glasses and looked at her like she was an idiot. You could say Yuka was a hipster.
"What are you talking about! These frames have character!"
Then again, I'd be bitter too if that little cow boy bugged me all the time. Now ignoring Gokudera, she repeated to Yamamoto her question.
"Yeah, there's a girls' baseball club. There's a whole bunch of other girls' sports clubs too. Hey! I have an hour before practice after school ends. I can show you around." . I have twenty minutes before baseball practice after school. I can show you around all the clubs," he wrapped his arm over her shoulder, signifying he'd watch over her, then continued talking about how his father was buying new plasma TV for the sushi restaurant. Yuka let his arm stay around her—it didn't feel possessive. No, it felt comfortable.
In fact, here she was, already fitting in, a regular piece in the puzzle. Maybe she had always been normal enough for Namimori?
Yuka was out-going as a hungry duck. During the day, she made loads of new friends. She talked all about Midori and what it was like and asked about Namimori. Of course, she left out the significant detail that she had been a delinquent. With her glasses in place and her uniform inspected by Lal Mirch that morning, she appeared to be an immaculate bookworm and very well-put-together. Normality must always be a camouflage.
Midway through the day, Yuka met the Namimori head prefect, Hibari Kyoya. Their relationship could have been non-existent. Who knows? Yuka might have never got on Hibari's nerves. I could have lied to you in that good old summary and this might really be a Yamamoto x OC fic and not a Hibari x OC fic. I'm in control of this story, after all. More powerful than Mukuro. Hibari fics are much more in demand than any other type of story.
And I got you to read this far.
But I will not scam you. This is why I am letting Hibari and Yuka meet, even though she would be far happier with a stud like Yamamoto. Or even Ryohei. He has a nice body, you know.
Anyway...
Yuka was a happy hen surrounded by a gander of chattering girls. She heatedly discussed Midori, proclaiming its tyranny, but of course, left out her colorful delinquency. She couldn't emphasize enough how much she admired Namimori's liberal faculty and marveled over the after-school activities, like knitting club and cooking club, the girls told her about. Yuka was caught up in own excitement like a busy bee who had discovered a meadow of blooming flowers. When she had expected to be diving into cold water, warmth pleasantly surprised her. She had never had so much attention, and as a rather adorable, slightly geeky looking transfer student, many girls found her approachable and easy to talk to. The Namimori faculty had long given up trying to keep students in perfect line in between classes, and as the noise in the hall grew and grew, they shut their doors and occupied themselves with their own eccentricities.
Yuka's mind raced as she plotted about how to use this new identity to the greatest advantage. The tweak of a smirk appeared again as her hair bounced to her step. Attention, people... school supplies, she lost her coordination when an extremely heavy book landed in her arms. And then another, and another! Library club! She slipped while walking down the stairs. The books threw up into the air. She careened down the flight as if it were a slip 'n slide. Her fake glasses fell off at the bottom, and the fake lenses popped out because they were so cheap.
However, to her surprise, her landing wasn't that painful. No, it was quite soft. As the shock wore off like the settling of lightening, she found herself sitting on the stomach of a boy. A sleeve with a red and yellow armband poked out from between her legs. Yuka couldn't see his face because her foot had neatly landed on top of it.
The girls at the top of the staircase stopped, hushed, and then, slowly inched away.
Yuka quickly removed her foot. Her hand came up to her mouth as she peered down at the face she thought she had squashed, and perhaps, knocked out cold. She didn't want to offend anyone in this new world, and possibly, lose this beautiful spotlight she had attracted. Damn, it felt nice.
"Are you okay? Oh my gosh, I am so sorry." she sputtered, leaning over his face. She needed to show concern because she so wanted to remain liked. "Do you need to go to the nurses? I'll take you!" His silky hair, fanned out on the hallway floor, was trapped underneath her hand as she leaned over him. Yuka hurriedly wiped some of the dirt off his cheek with the edge of her sleeve, like when she was little and tried to glue together a broken vase.
"Get off," he cut in. His steel-grey eyes were narrowed.
His eyes! They were pools of twinkling liquid metal. For that brief instant, she was hypnotized like a moth to a light. This boy… wow… he's handsome… and he smells good, not like those thugs at Midori. He smelled like pine trees, and to agree with another fan fiction author out that as of August 2012, goes by the pen Starleatta, green tea, and I'll just add, made from well water. (I give up on thinking of how Hibari smells, but for the purpose of this fic, I like to think he smells really good.) She looked down at his face amazed, her mouth dropping open a little.
"Just get off." Annoyed with her delay, the kid pushed her off so hard that her back painfully smacked the staircase behind her.
Yuka was slow to recover. Falling down the stairs, landing on a boy she had actually thought was a little cute, and then realizing, to her embarrassment, that he wasn't friendly like everyone else, was a brain overload of crazy shit going down. Having experienced all these emotions in less than 30 seconds, Yuka was, all in all, dumbfounded.
Well... What the hell, she thought, and her head wilted to the side.
The boy was standing now and he glared down at her. Yuka was no longer entranced. She didn't like the way his steely eyes studied her collapsed body on the staircase, nor the way he smirked in the corner of his mouth. He seemed to get a kick out of her situation. He flipped out a notepad and a pen.
"What's your name, herbivore?"
'What's your name'? What about an apology!' She picked herself up, but remained on the staircase so she could still be taller than him. She put one hand akimbo and the other she placed on the staircase railing. She had to keep her composure. It was just another typical wanted to explode on him, but restrained herself, thinking of her Aunt's warning. Auntie Lal already had a Midnight Punishment Training prepared for her that night. She didn't want to provoke her Aunt's parental wrath any further. In the end, she compromised, and so, she tried to reason with the boy.
"Don't you think you're being KIND of rude, I mean…" she began.
"Kusakabe, what's her name?" the he asked, looking over his shoulder. A delinquent with a funny haircut was the only one left in the halls.
"Her name is Hakuchou Yuka. She's a transfer student, Hibari-san." Kusakabe informed, using her new surname. He had a toothpick in his mouth, but had taken it out, concerned about the situation. "This is her first day."
Completely ignoring his assistant's merciful hint, Hibari continued to scribble in his notepad. "Double detention for reckless behavior, a bad attitude, and scuffing the floors. Detentions are at the Disciplinary Committee room after school. But since I have time... I'll bite you to death too."
He flipped his notepad shut, the black mop of silk now falling over his eyes. All she could make out was a sinister smirk slithering like a snake in the grass.
He launched himself at her. Instinct and reflex made her hand holding the staircase railing lever her to the side. His tonfa only met air. Yuka was now backed up against the railing. An opportunity was presented. Knee him in the stomach? But Auntie Lal's warning and the scars of previous Midnight Trainings once again popped into her head like moles with gravestone hats.
Instead, she swiveled off the staircase, relinquished her higher position, and put some space between her and the prefect. That felt a touch like Salsa…. She thought, for dance, she could admit, she liked learning at Midori. She had never moved herself like that before in a fight. Then again, she had never met a fighter her match.
However, she would later regret not taking that shot at his stomach. Hibari Kyoya, strongest of the Vongola guardians, had underestimated her because he thought her a typical athletic girl. He suspected she read romance novels all day and spied on guys like Yamamoto Takeshi, sighing with the windchimes. She was a girl after all. A girl with glasses. Why wouldn't he think her a weakling?
Hibari turned around, a flicker of resentment in his hard, iron eyes.
"Hibari Kyoya: Namimori Disciplinary Committee Head Prefect," Yuka dictated from his arm band in a lame drawl.
Irritated by her evasion, Hibari lifted up his tonfas. Yuka heard the little spikes protruded out of the black metal sticks, and took a step back and her palms lifted up. He looked her again in the eyes. "You're interesting… I won't miss this time." Hibari approached her again, but this time, much faster and much more aggressive.
Just barely side-stepping his first swing, she managed to lift her foot and slide off her left beige Namimori Uniform loafer. She put her hand inside the shoe as if it were a glove. Tango… That move felt like Tango! With her hand protected from the spikes, she managed to deflect Hibari's second tonfa. But the third swipe crashed into her stomach.
Breath knocked out, she was pinned against the lockers opposite the stairs. His right tonfa remained rammed into her stomach, while his left now grinded painfully against her shoulder. The girl was pinned. She had dropped her shoe, shocked by the blow, and it rested a couple feet away. Now, both her hands were occupied trying to push away the tonfa agonizingly cutting into her shoulder. What an awful mood this is for a romance, is it not?
"How resourceful?" He sneered, glancing at her shoe. "But what are you going to do now?"
"What are you mean what am I going to do? Get off."
"Aren't you being a little rude?"
Yuka seethed with anger. He treated her just like those Midori teachers. She was been chewing a winter-fresh stick. She spit it out hard and fast. The glob of gum struck the prefect's white dress-shirt. Hibari's thoughts surfaced on his face, and he obviously seemed to think the little stunt was pathetic. But the expression was interrupted with a new glint reflecting a sliver of violet.
"And what's this?" He turned the tonfa to lift her silver chain that carried her mother's jade ring.. With a quick flick of his stick, he snapped the thin silver necklace, caught the purple stone band, and stepped back. Yuka fell to her knees, clutching her bruised stomach as Hibari stowed his tonfas, removed the offending gum from his shirt, and flipped out his notepad. "Jewelry is prohibited. Prefect's confiscating this," he said, holding up the ring between his fingers. "That's another detention for violating the dress code, Yuka-chan."
"Give it back." Her grunt was low and quiet with the need to make him obey her. However, she still clutched her tummy, detracting from the threatening aura she wanted to convey. Still, she wasn't begging. She was demanding.
He just ignored her and walked away. "Go to class."
YEAH RIGHT, AM I GOING TO HIS STUPID DETENTION.
Yuka needed to relax. Her face was red and she wanted to stick her head in the ground like an ostrich. She knew she couldn't go after him and reclaim her heirloom ring. Oh boy, did she want to, but alas, she could not summon power and destruction on par with Godzilla. Her stomach still hurt from his hit, and she was also worried someone would ask how she had managed to stick up for herself as long as she did. She sat in the back of the class, her glasses abandoned, her face down on her desk. She had to be smart in picking her battles. Lal Mirch had told her, time and time again, that her hot, defiant head was not a strength, but a weakness. She couldn't make stupid irrational decisions. She had to check herself.
She spent the rest of the day on the roof, hot, bothered, and in a hurry for the day to be over. Her mind was like a stormy ocean. She hadn't meditated in so long. But it was the only way she could restrain her urge to shout a declaration of war from the school roof. Who did he think he was? Furthermore, where the hell had the girls gone that, last period, followed her around like ducklings?
Energized, but still bitter, Yuka skipped detention without a second thought. She hadn't meditated since Mrs. Igarashi had ripped up her essay she had worked on for countless hours at the library to complete. (One of the few times she had actually tried hard in school.) It was on the sexism in their English textbook, 'A Young Lady's Guide to Romantic Literature.' Was the prefect her destined replacement for Mrs. Igarashi, that old bat? Would there always be some evil school-patrolling prude to haunt her?
She hurried to meet Yamamoto in the courtyard. She looked tired and ready to call it a day. Yuka found the baseball player already wearing his uniform, orange clay painting one leg that had slid into a base. One of his bronze arms held a wooden baseball bat, while the other waved Yuka over. He grinned cheerfully at her. No wolfish grin. She liked that.
"Yuka, you ok? Where are your glasses."
"Oh? Yeah. I am…. Uhh, I decided I didn't like them."
"I heard you got on Hibari's bad side."
A ball dropped in her stomach. Are the rumors travelling already?
"Oh that? Hahahah," Yuka laughed nervously, creepily holding her hands together. "It's nothing to worry about. Ugh… Hibari and I just ugh had a umm… a little misunderstanding. Everything's fine now!" She smiled reassuringly to Yamamoto.
"Ahahah!, that's good to hear. Hibari's a pretty tough guy—wouldn't want to run into him in a dark alley. Good thing you got that worked out." He slapped her good-naturedly on the back. "So what club do you want me to show you first?"
Yamamoto's tour wasn't long because he had to go to baseball practice. On the way to the fields, Yamamoto pointed out the Dance Club practicing in the gym. Yuka's heart was set like concrete.
"What's the dance club like? I took some lessons back at Midori."
"Eh? I heard they're very talented. They won Nationals a couple years before I came here school."
"AH! Really?" She felt so at ease with this guy. She was beginning to forget the traumatic run in with the arrogant jerk-face. "I dance, but I've never thought about competing! How do I join?"
It would make wearing her disgustingly homogeneous uniform worth it if she could at least dance again. Namimori's colors were boring, dull, and bland like oatmeal without sugar. They constricted her soul. The news of a dance club lifted her spirits more than any of the schemes she had been plotting all day. Fantasies that included a certain prefect in some way, shape, or form, usually ending with him unconscious, or crying for mercy and with that stupid armband on her arm.
"Just go inside and talk to the captain. I gotta get going. Hey! Come to my game this Saturday! Cheer me on, ya know? It's an important one. Tsuna and Gokudera will be there too, so you won't be alone or anything." He flashed a dazzling smile. The boy definitely brushed his teeth.
"Sounds like fun! I've never been to a baseball game. I can't wait, Yamamoto-san!" Yuka shouted back, watching him sprint off.
"See you around!"
That guy is really nice. She smiled to herself, watching him stride out confidently into the expansive green field.
Then, unfolding her spare pair of horn-rimmed glasses and pushing them onto her nose, she strutted into the gym. This school may be the prefect's property, but the dance floor was hers.