As a bit of an explanation, let me announce that I kept Yahiko's looks as they appeared when his body was being used as "Pein," but I'll give him his original brown eyes instead of the Rinnegan.

Why?

I won't pretend not to be a simp for it because we all know those piercings and that cold attitude are hot.

'Kay, thanks!

I hope you enjoy!

"We are pleased to announce that your submission has been selected as the recipient of this year's grand prize."

I reread the first line of the letter in my hands over and over again. This has to be a dream, right?

A few months ago, an ad was online for Amegakure's University of Art's annual art contest. Thinking there was nothing to lose, I sent in a recently completed painting, expecting not to hear anything back.

Truthfully, I'd forgotten all about the contest. That's how much I didn't expect to win the full-ride scholarship to the prestigious school. Lo and behold, though, as I read further, there were instructions on what dorm I'll be staying in, a class schedule, and even a monthly allowance from the school for supplies and food.

Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes; I covered my mouth with a hand to keep silent. I share my current abode, a studio apartment, with two other women. None of us are friends but had no choice but to amass our funds, or else we'd all be homeless.

"Oh, you got in. Congrats," Yugao muttered emotionlessly. She didn't look up from her book as I stood before her and our other roommate, Ami. She, on the other hand, appeared furious, "What do you mean you're moving to Amegakure? What about us? What about rent? We signed a lease, Konan!"

I argued straightfacedly, "Consider the money you two have swiped from my wallet over the past few months payment enough. Did you think I wouldn't notice?" The two women looked like angry deer caught in the headlights of my hypothetical car, and I wouldn't hesitate to run them over if they didn't get out of my way.

Ami sputtered, "B-But we didn't take enough to equal what you owe us. It's not fair."

Rolling my eyes, I waved a hand while heading for the door, "I'll be late to work if I sit here and listen to you whine any longer."

As a nineteen-year-old woman with naturally blue hair, it's hard to find full-time work, much less at a place that'll pay decently. So, I've juggled three part-time jobs to make ends meet. I'll need all the money I can get from tips tonight if I want to eat on the way to Amegakure tomorrow. The bus ticket took all the minimal savings I had.

Hours later, I returned home to find most of my belongings trashed. The two women were gone, working as dancers at a nearby club overnight, but they were the obvious culprits. Are they trying to get back at me for leaving?

With gritted teeth, I sorted through my ripped and torn clothing in search of anything that could be salvaged. I can sew, so if the damage is minimal, I might be able to repair it. The marker they'd used to ruin them all couldn't be helped, though. I'll have to get a part-time job in Amegakure and buy new clothes. These will have to work until then.

Rather than wait for them to come home and try something else shady to keep me from leaving, I packed the few promising items, stuffed them into my backpack, and left. It wouldn't be the first night I've slept at a bus stop and likely won't be the last, either.

When I finally stepped foot into the prestigious school's main building in Amegakure, it took everything in me not to look around in awe. The floors were pearly white, and the walls were covered from ceiling to floor in works of art in various styles. It was a creative person's dream come true.

This place is the nicest I've ever stepped foot in. As someone who grew up in the very bottom of the lower class, there are many things I'm going to experience for the first time.

"Ah, you must be Konan," a polite voice came from nearby, causing me to snap from my daze to see a man with long white hair, glasses, and a smile approaching. He wore a very nice suit in a shade of brown that made his eyes pop. It made me feel like a roach because my clothing was old, worn, and too big.

Regardless, I forced a neutral expression rather than a frown and nodded, "I am."

"My name is Kabuto Yakushi. I'm the dean's personal assistant."

We shook hands, and I followed silently when he gestured for me to do so.

"It's dumb luck that I noticed you walk in. There's usually not anyone at the front desk until term begins."

He led me out of the building, filling the silence without needing a response on my part, "I'll take you to your dorm. I'm sure you want to get settled in."

"If I may, your submission was incredible. I'd appreciate it if you kept this between us, but it was the clear winner from the very beginning. The dean and staff here can't wait to see what else you're capable of."

As he held the door open for me to enter the dorm building, I blurted out lamely, "This place seems too good to be true."

Kabuto chuckled, a hand to his lips, "Don't say that yet. The classes here are the most difficult among the country's art universities. You'll have to continue earning that scholarship."

I nodded as we stopped at the last room on the third floor out of five, number 308.

He handed over a small key, "Please make yourself at home. If you have any questions, you know where to find me now."

A sigh of relief left my mouth when he finally left me alone, and I took a calming breath before turning the key and stepping into my new dorm. All my life, I've struggled with social anxiety. By far, I feel more comfortable alone than around others. That's why a wave of disappointment marred my high when I closed the door behind me and noticed two beds and not one.

The entire room was bigger than the studio apartment I left behind. The beds sat with a side against the wall, their headboards against one another. Desks were set up, one on each side of the room, as well as dressers and small closets. A door leading to a small bathroom and a media center with a television was on the wall across from the beds.

I won't be living here alone.

By the looks of things, my mystery roommate had already arrived and unpacked, which surprised me because the term doesn't begin until next Monday, and it's only Tuesday. I didn't see a single other student the entire time Kabuto led me around.

Biting my lip anxiously, I shrugged off my backpack, glancing at the neatly stacked books on the desk closer to the door. Their duvet and pillowcases were black, as was their empty suitcase tucked neatly under the bed. A laptop rested near their books.

At least, whoever they are, they're neat.

When I picture art students, my first thought isn't someone with all-black belongings. Glancing down at my black backpack, shoes, shirt, and shorts, I scoffed. Who am I to talk? Honestly, I prefer to buy dark things because it's easier to hide stains, meaning they'll last longer.

Before coming to the college, I stopped by the store and spent the rest of my money on items like a toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, a towel, a small sewing kit, and some lady products. With that little shopping spree, my wallet is now as empty as the day I bought it.

I unpacked in silence, reflecting on all the hardships that led to this moment.

For the first time, I have a bed all to myself. Tears welled in my eyes when I looked at the thin blanket and pillow the college provided on the one to be mine. Everything is so clean and fresh. It's so normal, something I've never had.

After stuffing my now-empty backpack into the closet with my worn-out combat boots, the only shoes I currently own, I began putting away my toiletries in the bathroom.

I blinked slowly when I pulled back the shower curtain, intending to place my shampoo, conditioner, and soap within because men's products were inside. Then, a tiny smirk tugged at my lips. I knew there had to be something weird about my roommate when her belongings appeared so plain, and it turns out she uses male products.

Placing my items on the opposite side as hers, I shook my head to myself. She's smart, though. Women's products cost more because companies know people will pay for them regardless. Brands are competitive and boast about unique benefits of their products, whereas, for the most part, men just see a three-in-one shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, see if it smells okay, and buy it.

By the time I was done unpacking and settling in, it was sunset outside, and I was tired to the bone. With nothing else to do, I opted to shower and go to bed early. It's been a very long time since I've rested well because those awful housemates of mine have sticky fingers. Years ago, I began hiding most of my money in my pillowcase rather than my wallet so they'll wake me if they try to steal it.

Since no one was around to witness it, I didn't bother holding back the tears as they fell in the shower. Hot water. That's another thing people take for granted. It feels so incredible on the skin that I could stay there for hours. This bathroom is so bright and free of mold.

It's best to release all my emotions now so no one realizes what a bumpkin I am. Above all else, I want to make at least one friend. All I need is one. That's not too selfish, right? Preferably someone who doesn't lie or steal from me.

Outwardly, I almost always appear calm and unbothered, but that's only because I've had years of practice masking discomfort.

Sleep began heavily calling my name.

While drying off, I heard the door to the dorm open and close, meaning my roommate had returned. Part of me wondered where they'd gone all day, but the majority of me said it was none of my business and I shouldn't be nosey.

My eyes narrowed as I stared at my reflection in the steamy mirror while brushing my teeth. As stupid as it is to get a piercing when you're barely making enough money to feed yourself twice a day, I got one on the day I turned eighteen, February twentieth of last year, to celebrate the fact that I no longer needed to have a guardian. It's a labret piercing under the center of my bottom lip.

I remember the caretaker of my final halfway house chastising me for getting it, saying everyone would take one look at me and know my terrible upbringing, but I don't care. Getting this piercing made me feel independent and free. I don't regret it.

So, I rinsed my mouth with heavy eyelids as exhaustion began to take its toll on me. After tidying up any mess I might've made in the bathroom, I dressed and hung my towel on the rack near the shower before stepping out, only to freeze when I lay eyes on my roommate, who was typing away on their laptop at the desk across the room, by their bed.

Maybe my eyes are playing tricks on me, and they're just super tall and androgynous, but that looks like a man's back. Hesitantly crossing the room to my own desk, I opened the envelope containing all the informational papers Kabuto'd sent me in the mail to double-check that I was in the correct room.

I was. He even brought me to the door himself, so there's no way that was a mistake.

Okay, maybe I should just introduce myself. I could be making an assumption. What if he's a transgender male or a super masculine woman? I'd hate to offend my roommate before the school year even begins.

Somewhat awkwardly, I approached, "Um, hey. I'm Konan. What's your name?"

The person didn't physically react, but my steps froze when an incredibly deep voice responded, "Yahiko."

That is most definitely a man!

Paling, I nervously looked at his profile when finally able. Not only is that a man, but it's an alternative-looking, handsome one, at that.

His skin was lightly tanned, and he had pretty brown eyes, messy orange hair, a sharp jawline, and a serious smolder that burnt into the laptop screen as though it insulted him personally. And "Yahiko" had piercings, lots of them. From where I stood, I could see he had four or more in his ear, three horizontally through his nose from the bridge and downward, and snakebites on either side of his bottom lip.

Sharp brown eyes shot over to me, making mine widen in surprise because Yahiko's aura was intimidating without him having to stand or say a word. He eventually did speak, though, "I'd appreciate it if you'd stop staring."

Swallowing nervously, I nodded, lamely returning to my own desk to drop the papers there, "Sorry, I just... Well, I'm wondering if one of us has the wrong room."

"Dorms are co-ed."

My neck turned so quickly it almost popped, "What?"

The man's voice remained emotionless and dull as though I bored him, "It appears you're someone who enjoys idle chatter. I'm not, so don't talk to me unless absolutely necessary."

"...Ha..."

I gave the back of his head an incredulous look. How rude! We just met, and he already went out of his way to make it clear he doesn't want to be friends. Way to make things awkward from the start! We have to spend the rest of the year in this room together!

Inwardly, I was angry, but, as always, I kept my outward composure and wordlessly heeded his request by climbing into my bed and calling it a night.

No matter how unfriendly Yahiko may be, I refuse to let it damper my excitement for starting school on Monday. I'll just ignore him like he intends to me.