I wave everyone goodbye as the train pulls out of the station and northeast, its final stop somewhere in the country.
So weird to think that I won't be seeing anyone of them for the better part of the year… maybe even ever again.
Though, that's not exactly a healthy line of thinking – you're supposed to stay friends with people you like, right?
Anyway, I'm hardly the only high-schooler here, but I think I'll certainly be the only one disembarking in the Yamaku-Sendai area.
After a few moments of awkward browsing, I pick out the tunes to provide the background music for the trip – a jazzy-pop artist. They're a dime a dozen, but this one speaks to me in a way the others don't.
You're supposed to try and find your own authentic music taste, and some really go hard for it, reaching deep into the 20th century catalog, but I don't see why that's necessary when we have such a wealth of options today.
Things are popular for a reason, right? You can't be appealing to the vast majority of people and be completely wrong…
Ok, maybe that's taking it too far, but the sentiment remains.
I never understood standing apart just for the sake of being apart – it must be a cultural thing, as my friends online don't seem to share the sentiment, being all too eager to form cliques and get isolated.
That kind of thing isn't for me – it's all just very predictable and hollow. I end up bored, more often than not.
Maybe this school is the shock that inspires something? One can hope.
I pull out the pamphlet – the phone signal is spotty on the road, and I really don't have an idea who I'd call anyway, so old-school is the way.
The material is that plastic-like paper you get with most pamphlets – it's like they know how intrusive pamphlets are as a medium for information delivery, so the tactile experience is improved in compensation.
Should I have protested more about changing schools?
It's not like I necessarily need to go to a specialized school – yeah, I'm legally blind without my specs, but that's workable in typical education institutions.
Yet, when my dad mentioned the idea, I folded almost instantly.
His pitch wasn't all that – I'm fairly sure he barely knows where he sent me, and is mostly trusting whatever's in the pamphlet.
Yet, despite having friends and prospects back in the city…
Maybe I actually want the clean slate – Mitsuaki version 2, the new model?
It wasn't convenient to transfer out right away, so it's already late May when I finally make the cut. I've been living like a ghost in the interim, my entire class aware I wasn't going to stay until the end.
I flip open the pamphlet, admiring the colorful and sleek presentation before actually focusing in on the words.
Pool, running track, on-site medical staff… dormitories. Neat, that'll be a new experience, they look well-appointed.
There's a handful of staff profiles, mostly people I doubt I'll interact with.
What else… library, clubs and activities… also there's a school festival of some sort, that's neat.
Wheelchair-accessible hallways and staircases… wait, don't they have elevators? Or are the chairbound students accommodated with classrooms at ground floor?
Some text about high academic achievement and extra-detailed screening process for teachers, that's probably there to hook the more future-minded parents…
I mean, it's inoffensive when presented this way.
The question is whether it's really the way it's shown in the pamphlet, but I guess I'll know firsthand soon enough.
I double-check that it's my stop with the conductor and the schedule, then hop off the train, my luggage in tow.
It's about 7AM, and I've slept through most of the drive – my phone's about to die, but I did send a text to my dad to let him know I'm in Yamaku at the very least.
Typically, I'd have arrived the previous night, but there was some kind of mixup, which meant I had to take a trip in the middle of the night.
While my eyes leave much to be desired, the rest of me is hale and hardy – on a pleasant day like this, hauling a luggage case and my backpack up a hill is only slightly outside my comfort zone.
Fortunately, there's pretty much no one on the road, and it's not that steep a climb.
I rise out of the fairly urbane center of Yamaku into a heavily forested hillside, then up the hill proper. The transition from urban to pastoral is freakishly fast… or at least hauling luggage through it makes it seem that way.
Someone is at the gate when I arrive – and it's one hell of a gate, probably put there to make the school much more serious and imposing than it needs to be – and they hand over a dorm room key and the note that they've taken care of my luggage.
Apparently, I can still make it to class, they notified my homeroom teacher and he's waiting in the main building's lobby.
"…"
"Toru, right?"
"Yes. You are the science teacher?"
He looks like a chronic insomniac, unshaved and slouched.
"Correct. I'm also your homeroom teacher. My name is Mutou."
He pauses for a second, scratching his chin:
"Did you arrive alright? I hear there was an issue with the train?"
"Yeah, they let me know ahead of time, so it's not a problem."
He gives a shallow nod at that:
"Very well. Welcome to Yamaku Academy. The head nurse likes to check in with every new student when they arrive, but since you're here later than usual, that can wait for this afternoon. We need to introduce you to the class, they're waiting upstairs."
I am glad that my first impression on my new classmates is taking time away from science class.
"Do you want to introduce yourself to the class?"
I almost ask 'why' before realizing the faux-pas that might be.
"Of course… but please don't make anyone clap in greeting. Its cringe."
"Cringe?"
"As in intensely embarrassing on behalf of someone else?"
He silently mouths the word, as if the act of doing so mechanically adds it into his vocabulary. Waving for me to follow, we start going upstairs.
"Cringe…" he mutters, "Oh, I recall you specifically requested not to be in the sight-assisted class with Miyagi-sensei?"
"Yeah," I nod. It seemed a bit too much, and since I was given the option… I figure I can always transfer over if classes suddenly become a problem.
We make it to a door with a small plate that reads '3-3'. He enters first, holding the door open for me to join.
"Class, we have a transfer student this year."
The classroom looks fairly generic – small personal desks with a row of lockers in the back.
I didn't expect anything special, but seeing a couple of students with missing limbs is a bit jarring. That, and the girl with the outrageous pink hair, she's definitely an eye-catcher.
"Hello everyone. My name is Mitsuaki Toru. I'm a big fan of board games, I used to play volleyball, and I'd really appreciate it if someone would show me around once class is over."
There's a bit of a whisper through the classroom – ordinarily the small size of the room would make it easy to overhear, but the number of people doing it makes it impossible to parse out a single comment.
The girls that are very obviously using sign language might have the best advantage in that regard.
Mutou points out the empty desk next to pink hair girl:
"We'll be doing group work, I recommend you work with Hakamichi, she's the class rep."
He motions that I should get to my seat, then starts handing out assignments – apparently, homeroom was just prior to this, so it's business as usual.
I sit down, and the girl, slightly shorter than me with an outrageous hair color – a bright bubblegum pink - gives me a smile:
"You're Hakamichi-san?"
She snorts:
"Tch-ahahahaha!"
So, I'm guessing she's not Hakamichi.
"Nice to meet you too, but I'm Misha, or Shiina Mikado more properly, but just call me Misha! Hakamichi is Shicchan over here!"
Her amusement simmers down, and I lock eyes with the class representative – or rather lock spectacles, since we're both saddled with the accessory.
She doesn't flinch from the eye contact, but does eventually dart a quick look to Misha to make a few gestures with her hands. Sign?
"Shicchan," she stops, then adds: "Shizune likes board games as well! Since she's deaf, we're usually together so that I can…"
"Interpret," I nod, my assumption confirmed, "that's very kind of you, Mikado-san."
It feels odd to drop the honorific so fast.
"Aw, thanks! It's no biggie."
Shizune makes a few more gestures – unlike previously, it takes a moment for her partner to absorb the information.
"Ah, okay. Shicchan is the class rep, so if there's anything you need to know, feel free to ask. We'd also be happy to show you around after class."
"I appreciate it. There was a miscommunication and I ended up coming straight to class."
The two work like a well-oiled machine – Misha seems to have a sixth sense for when Shizune has something to say, turning to check every so often.
They'd make for an excellent Manzai duo, what with one looking prim and proper and the other a good-natured goof.
Sadly, despite my command of two languages, I don't know a single thing about sign, so their comments and discussions are a mystery.
"Ahahaha, that's okay Micchan, we'll be happy to step in where the system fails you."
Another few quick signs. I presume 'Micchan' is me.
"But you really should know where you're going before going somewhere."
There's a slight change in her inflection when she's speaking for Shizune – it's faint, but with this being my first notable interaction with a classmate in the new school, I can't help but notice the detail.
"Please let the class representative know that uncertainty is the spice of life, and I will not be living flavorless gruel."
Misha's face falls, and she makes a few quick gestures.
Shizune frowns as well, slowly demonstrating a motion with her hands that Misha then repeats a few times until it elicits a satisfied nod.
"Did I say something wrong?"
"I just didn't know how to convey 'gruel'," comes the sheepish response.
Fair enough, but how did Hakamichi want to respond to that?
Shizune seems to have picked up on the communication gap, looking over and making a sharp gesture. Misha relays my message, making the motion she apparently just learned flow seamlessly with her other moves.
"You will find that there's more to life than spice."
She tilts her head a bit:
"Aww, but I like spice… oh, and feel free to call us by our names. It's what everyone does!"
"I'll keep that in mind. Now, about this assignment…"
Hisao starts the story much too uncertain and has unique baggage - this work uses an Original Character because a confident and strong-hearted Hisao is no longer the same character.
I understand now why he resonated so much with an entire generation - we were all Hisao a little bit back in 2012.
The arc question for this story is 'Who makes the decision?'