An interesting chapter to write. Sorry, not much of Shion here.
I can't seem to decide whether this universe uses Japanese or Western names, so forgive the odd mixture of the two...
Love All, Trust A Few, Do Wrong To None
"Woah, Nezumi! What happened to your face?"
Safu watches nervously as students flock around him. Two days was plenty of time for their... disagreement to become very, very obvious in the form of a deep purple bruise accompanied by scarlet scab across his left cheekbone. She winces. It looks painful.
"Seriously," another student is saying as she bends over to peer at it intrusively. Nezumi shies away from his friendly classmate, though she seems oblivious. "Did you get into a street fight or something?"
Her boyfriend laughs. "It's an impressive bruise, that's for sure!"
Nezumi glowers out of the window. After a brief pause, he says, "... I fell."
The laughter increases in volume. "No way."
A sharp sound echoes around the room as Nezumi slaps a prying hand away. "Don't touch it," he growls.
"Hey, sorry. Didn't realise it was that sore... Oh man, it's swollen! Look," he addresses his friends, ushering them over (to Nezumi's chagrin). "From this angle, you can really see it's swollen."
Nezumi sighs irritably. "Have none of you ever seen a bruise before?"
"Not one as bad as that!"
The longer the pre-class conversation continues, the guiltier Safu feels. It had just been a brief moment of misdirected anger - anger at Shion's behaviour more than Nezumi's, really - and the man had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, teasing the wrong person. She sighs. Maybe I should apologise. If for no other reason than to make sure he doesn't get me in detention - or worse, suspended.
Chancing a glance over at the tall man, she quickly decides that now is not the appropriate time to do so, however, as Nezumi is stubbornly refusing to admit who punched him, adamant that he simply 'fell' - to his classmates' amusement.
I'll apologise after class.
A thought suddenly occurs to her, and she sits up a little straighter. Class. It's the beginning of class. The teacher's late. She narrows her eyes imperceptibly. And so is Shion.
She wonders vaguely if he overslept; it's one of Shion's bad habits. Usually she would know because they walk to school together - understandable since they live in the same street - but today Safu had texted Shion saying she'd be getting a lift from her grandmother, who was driving down to the lake to go fishing with a friend.
She belatedly realises she never received a reply.
I wonder if he's okay? He did seem a little spacey yesterday... Her brow knits at the thought. He's been so unpredictable lately.
There's a small click as the door opens and their homeroom teacher stumbles into the classroom looking uncharacteristically unkempt. "Okay, okay, everyone, I'm here now. You can all shut up while I do rollcall."
Safu blinks lazily as the teacher runs quickly through the list of names, her monotonous voice a mindless drone in the background of her thoughts. It drifts so far into the background that Safu almost misses her name, and quickly stammers, "Uh, here," and clears her throat. After recovering from her surprise, she sighs and unconsciously purses her lips in deep thought, her chin coming to rest on her left palm.
"Shion."
It's silent. Safu perks up.
"... Okay, one absent."
Safu narrows her eyes. She resists the urge to roll them at the thought that Shion overslept again, but inside she's irrationally concerned. It's not like anything could have happened to him. Stop being ridiculous, she scolds herself, but she can't quite bring herself to believe the words.
Halfway through third period, Safu's worries get the better of her. She conveniently sits in the back row and her teacher is concentrating on teaching the class about the global aftereffects of deforestation; but Safu has read ahead and is already fully informed of the potential consequences of humanity's selfish actions.
She smoothly reaches down and pulls out her phone from the front pocket of her schoolbag. Inwardly, she curses Shion for distracting her from lessons and making her break the school rules like this as she begins to text. She leans further back into her chair so that the downwards inclination of her head is less obvious, and turns her attention to the small letter keys that are too far away from her eyes.
Slender fingers quickly type, Where are you?
Checking to make sure her phone is on silent, she stares impatiently at the whiteboard as she waits for a response. She recieves one surprisingly quickly.
Home. Overslept and ill. Coming at lunch
She furrows her brow. Why are you coming into school if you're ill? Stay at home.
Important exam prep p5, can't miss it, the swift reply reads. Safu begins to type, but her message is interrupted by another text, added on seemingly as an afterthought: Texting during class?
Safu can't help the small smirk, but delays her reply as she notices the teacher striding in her direction. She places the phone in her lap between the folds of her skirt and tries not to look too suspicious, not bothering to correct her lazy slouch.
"Safu," her Geography teacher's voice murmurs quietly, with a hint of surprise overshadowing her annoyance. "Use of cellphones is forbidden during class. You know that," she says disapprovingly.
Safu sits up straighter at the accusation. "I wasn't using my ph-" Clack.
The teacher raises an eyebrow at the phone now on the floor, then glances back up to meet Safu's embarrassed gaze and folds her arms. "You weren't using your phone, eh?"
Safu stays quiet and breaks eye contact.
The teacher sighs, bending to pick up the device from where it had fallen out of Safu's lap and, to Safu's surprise, returns it to her. "Since it's you, Safu, I'll overlook this. But don't let me catch you with it again."
"Yes, miss," Safu mumbles, accepting her phone with some chagrin and slipping it back into her bag.
The rest of the lesson is spent silently fuming in embarrassment at having been caught, and as she hurries to leave the classroom, she decides she isn't cut out for all this rule-breaking business.
Chestnut eyes flick around in an attempt to catch sight of Shion's elusive new friend. She ignores the curious glances as she turns around on the spot in the centre of the corridor and focuses her attention on searching for the man she really would rather not be searching for.
"Ruka," she calls on a whim as the lanky blonde passes her.
He raises an eyebrow. "Safu? What a surprise," he says dryly, though with a hint of curiosity. "What do you want?"
She fingers the lapel of her coat restlessly. "Have you seen Nezumi? I wanted to speak to him after class, but as soon as he got out of the door he just... vanished."
"Nezumi, huh." Ruka purses his lips in thought. "I didn't see him, but if you're looking for him, he's most likely somewhere without people. It seems that guy really values his personal space."
Safu nods slowly, before straightening her posture resolutely. "Okay."
She abruptly turns on her heel and strides back down the way she came, ignoring the annoyed drawl of, "A 'thank you' wouldn't hurt!" from behind her.
Someplace without people, eh... She hums in thought. It's lunchbreak, so there are people everywhere. Even in some of the classrooms, if they can't bear the canteen. Plus it's sunny and warm today, so there are lots of people outside...
Her eyes widen fractionally and she subconsciously increases her pace until she is almost speeding down the sparsely-populated halls. If I factor in his connection with Shion...
She pushes through the heavy-duty door, unmindful of the No Access To Students sign pasted across it, without even glancing around to double-check her privacy. Safu has the best reputation in the school amongst the staff, and she doubts any would call her out on this minor slip-up.
Safu has only been up to the roof once since she began the school, and that was when she was looking for Shion so he could help her reject a boy's love confession. In the end, Shion wasn't much help and had insisted it would be better if she were to tell the boy herself that his feelings weren't requited.
Needless to say, the roof doesn't exactly hold many happy memories for her -not like it does for Shion (or at least, that's what he said to her once).
"Can I talk to you for a minute?"
The dark ponytail flutters in the air as the tall man flinches. He turns away from the railing on which he had been leaning and fixes her with a look that is too surprised to be a glare.
Safu takes his silence for acceptance, and continues anyway. "Look, Nezumi,"she starts, her voice slightly strangled. Apologies aren't her kind of thing. "Yesterday, when I hit you - I shouldn't have. You really piss me off, but that time I was more angry at... at Shion, than at you. So I shouldn't have taken it out on you."
The words 'I'm sorry' don't pass her lips, but the message is understood.
She is about to say something else, but then -
"Shut up."
Safu blinks.
"I don't care." Nezumi's words are harsh, but there is no bite behind them. Safu remains quiet, still a little stunned at his reaction. After a moment, he continues. "Whether you're sorry or not makes no difference to me. You punched me. So what? It's not as if it was the first time someone's done it. And I've dealt a number of my own."
"But-"
"Look, don't apologise," he snaps, turning to face her fully, one hand still on the metal railing. "I probably deserved it anyway." With this, he pushes off the railing and glides past her.
When he's about twenty feet away, almost at the door, he pauses, and without glancing back, he calls, "And don't worry. Your precious reputation won't be marred. I won't tell anyone."
"Why?" she manages to demand through a haze of confusion.
At this, Nezumi does glance behind him, and though his expression is carefully neutral, Safu is sure there is some hidden emotion he's supressing. His stance is stiff, his fists are clenched and his jaw is set - but he radiates no anger in his piercing grey stare.
Before Safu can ask him about this, he turns away and vanishes through the access door, almost as if he was just an image on the wind.
Dammit, he hisses mentally. Nezumi's footsteps echo eerily around the barren corridor, and he idly wonders where everyone is.
That old man's a lecherous bastard, but at least he gives good advice. 'Don't get involved with people', he always says. 'Look out for number one'. 'Getting close to people only makes things difficult and complicated'. Dammit.
His long strides bring him to his classroom before he's even realised where he's going, and he freezes awkwardly in the doorway as he realises he has no idea why he's here. "Dammit," he mutters again, this time aloud. After a brief glance around the empty room, he catches sight of the large clock hanging tiredly above the whiteboard. It's almost the end of lunchbreak.
He backs out of the small room and heads down the stairs. The rumble of lunchtime chatter is audible now, though he smoothly evades it down a narrow corridor - a bit of a long way round, but less troublesome than cutting straight through the canteen and risking a run-in with his classmates (who just can't seem to get enough of talking to him, despite his unsavoury attitude). He reaches his next class five minutes before the bell rings and settles onto a stool beside an old electric keyboard in the corner.
Music is one of Nezumi's electives, and though he's been at the school for a good few weeks, this will be his first lesson. Up until now, the headmistress has been pulling him out of his Music lessons to force him to attend counselling sessions, because she's afraid he might become a 'problem student'. Nezumi isn't a 'problem student'. He just wants to be left to mind his own business, but the people around him always seem to get the impression - how on Earth they manage, Nezumi has no idea - that he's a friendly, sociable guy who's just a little shy.
During his sessions he has made sure to say all the right things and respond in all the correct ways to maximise the probability of escaping the headmistress's watchful eyes. Thankfully, the system is easy to fool, thus he finds himself in his Music class, with absolutely no idea what anyone is doing.
An image of Safu's livid expression flickers behind his eyelids, unbidden. It is swiftly followed by Shion - first smiling happily and naively, and then glaring at him with murderous intent, eyes blood-red like a demon.
That was how his classmates had described him after his argument with Safu. 'Demonic'.
The image shakes Nezumi to his core.
Before he can dwell any more on the matter, however, the first students begin to arrive, followed swiftly by a bald man wearing a large red earring, who Nezumi assumes is the teacher.
The man is rather tall and doesn't bother to quieten the class as they enter the room, instead sitting behind his desk in the far corner. He keeps glancing around the room and then back to his laptop screen, and Nezumi realises he must be doing rollcall.
It seems very odd that he doesn't seem to be doing much of anything, letting the students mill around and more or less do what they like, and the dark-haired man is a hair's breadth away from saying something about it, when a thought suddenly strikes him.
It's an independent class. Everyone knows what they're doing and is getting on with it themselves.
A brief scan of the classroom's occupants confirms this, and Nezumi gets the urge to slam his head into a wall.
But he merely purses his lips irritably as he strides up to the quirky teacher.
"Excuse me?" he asks, his tone polite but cold.
The man glances up, and Nezumi is taken aback by how old he looks up close; wrinkles litter his face and his jowels are barely hidden by his shirt collar. "Yes, uh...?" he trails off as if attempting to remember Nezumi's name, but a spark of realisation lights up his blue eyes. "You must be the transfer student!"
Nezumi isn't sure whether or not to be insulted by this man's obvious astonishment. "Yes, and it appears that everyone knows what to do except me."
The old man cracks a youthful grin and lets out a chuckle. "Yes well, that's what happens when you transfer in halfway through the year." He doesn't seem to mean this in a bad way, and quickly continues. "My name is Mr. Knox, but as one of my students, you have the privilege to call me Rob."
"My name is Nezumi. It's a pleasure to meet you sir."
Rob looks only a little put-out at the 'sir'. "The pleasure is mine, Nezumi. Now..." He cranes his neck around Nezumi to take a good look at the class, before gesturing in one student's direction. "I hear you are quite gifted, Nezumi. I have one student who seems to be struggling a little - his performances are magical, but his compositions... Let's just say they leave a lot to be desired." He flashes a smile. "Perhaps you could offer him some friendly guidance?"
Nezumi raises an eyebrow but saunters off in the direction of the vague gesture anyway. He isn't really interested in helping other people; if they can't compose a piece of music, why the hell are they even in this class?
Still, it gives him something to do.
The student indicated is sitting hunched over a keyboard (it appears the school could only be bothered to buy one actual piano, and so most students have to make do with electric keyboards while composing). His deep violet shirt abruptly reminds Nezumi of Shion's eyes, though only the sleeves are visible, the rest hidden under a baggy black sleeveless sweater. There's an oversized woolly hat on his head, concealing short hair.
Nezumi gazes impassively at the student's back for a few moments longer as he ponders how to initiate contact. He isn't the friendly type and greetings like 'Hey there!' really aren't his style. He supposes he can tap the boy on the shoulder, but from the looks of things he's so engrossed in his work he might flinch away, or even scream. One thing Nezumi wants less than having to deal with an incapable Music student is having to deal with a flustered incapable music student.
Eventually, he slides into an adjacent seat, crossing his legs gracefully and leaning into his palm, elbow on the desk, in order to see what the student is writing.
Instead of messy staves, though, Nezumi's attention is captured by the puff of thick white hair protruding from the front of the hat. Grey eyes widen, zoning in on the man's face, and dark glasses are just about visible through the haze of messy snowy hair.
"Shion?"
As expected, Shion lets out an unmanly yelp, his head bolting up to meet Nezumi's slack-jawed stare, and squeaks again as his knee makes sharp contact with the desk. He swears under his breath, dropping his pencil to rub at the injured kneecap.
Nezumi resists - with great difficulty - the urge to glare and/or roll his eyes at the stupidity of the person in front of him, and instead asks intelligently, "Why are you here?"
"Oh gee, I don't know, maybe because I take Music?" Shion grinds out through gritted teeth, his attention still mostly focused on his smarting knee as he attempts to massage some feeling back into it.
Nezumi raises an eyebrow, still inwardly shocked at the revelation. "What's a science nerd like you doing in a Music class?"
Shion shoots him an indecipherable look. He ignores the question. "Why are you here? Sitting next to me, I mean?"
"The teacher sent me. He said your compositions 'leave a lot to be desired'," Nezumi drawls icily.
The glare he receives from the usually cheerful man is equally as cold. "Well then wouldn't it be best if you didn't concern yourself with such commoners? I'm sure you'd be much better off writing your own music rather than trying to help someone who so obviously shouldn't be here."
Nezumi's eyes are wide. He wasn't expecting that reaction. What the fuck is wrong with this guy? Is he bipolar? "I'm sorry to intrude on your personal space. It appears failing requires a lot more room that I thought." His upper lip curls slightly in irritation. "Not that I would know anything about that." He stands up suddenly, the squeal of chair leg against wooden floor going mostly unnoticed in the noisy room. Nezumi shoots the shorter man one last cool glare before composing himself enough to leave the room with enough dignity not to slam the door behind him.
"What the hell?" he mutters angrily to himself as soon as he turns into the empty corridor. What is up with him? One moment he's all happy and smiley and the next he looks as if he's about to kill me! What did I do?
If this is about his argument with that Safu girl... Nezumi's brow furrows. Maybe he's just in a bad mood because of it. She is his best friend. He snorts. I didn't think Shion was capable of bad moods.
His pace slows somewhat as the fiery anger within him mellows out. Still, it doesn't matter what mood he was in. People just don't do that. It's rude, and completely unjustified, and... Nezumi's brain makes a strange gurgling sound as the irritation returns, and he exits the building, temporarily squinting against the harsh afternoon sunlight. He lifts a black-clad arm to his face, shielding his eyes. He stops just outside the gate, standing still in the middle of the road (which is thankfully empty).
Why do I care, anyway? It's of no consequence to me who he riles up in his free time. He pauses. Except when she takes her anger out on me, that is. He bites back a sigh, and tilts his head back, staring into the bright cerulean sky. I don't care how Shion treats me. I don't give two shits about him.
I don't.