We end up being the fastest to turn in the assignment.
The two of them have an easy cooperation, while I have the good sense to know when to jump in and when to back off.
The same pattern persists throughout the rest of the day's classes, though I end up being mostly left to my own devices.
Finally, the last bell of the day rings, and we're free to go – or at least I would be, if another classmate doesn't immediately plop down into the seat in front of me.
She has a neatly wrapped stump where her left hand used to be. It's so blatantly eye-catching that I feel guilty for noticing it before even looking at her face.
Far as I know, wrapping is done while the wound isn't healed over yet… could it be recent?
No, that doesn't make sense, the school year started a while ago and I'm allegedly the only new kid.
"Hey new guy."
Shizune rolls her eyes, making a dismissive gesture. Misha seems a bit amused by the manner of approach.
"Ahahahah! Micchan, meet Micchan – or, formally, Muira Miki."
On cue, Muira extends her good hand for a handshake – her fingers are long and slender, but her nails are very poorly kept in comparison to Shizune's.
"I wanted to introduce myself since you mentioned being into volleyball – we don't have that but we do have a track club here, so when you get around to thinking about that, let me know."
Clubs are great ways to meet people, and I appreciate her offering an easy in like this- for someone who looks much rougher than Hakamichi, she seems a bit more considerate.
"Thank you, Muira-san."
She chuckles, standing up:
"No, no, Miki is good. Took me a moment to get used to it, but honorifics just kinda aren't a thing here. Have fun touring the grounds with the Student Council."
I turn to look at the two, and Shizune's pout says everything I needed to know.
"You guys are in the student council?"
Misha gives a nervous chuckle, her hands acting automatically to translate the question.
"Well… yes!"
Revealing something like that is not enough to annoy someone, is it?
"But..?"
Shizune adjusts her glasses, then signs to Misha.
"But nothing! It's just as she said, we are part of the Student Council that ensures everyone can have a satisfying school life!"
This seems like it's not giving me the full picture, but drilling into it seems like it'd be a good way to irritate the duo.
Naturally, to stay on Shizune's good side, I should feed into her sense of power and control… but that's also not the way I communicate.
"So, any other dark secrets? Family feuds? Lovers? Aliens?"
Misha flinches, blinking a couple of times. She doesn't translate the question.
Shizune looks alarmed, forcibly meeting Misha's eyes and making a questioning gesture.
"Oh, no, nothing like that Shicchan, Micchan was just trying to make a joke!"
A quick gesture.
"It's not funny."
I barely get to open my mouth before she adds:
"Shicchan says."
I guess I stepped onto some kind of land mine? Great, high school intrigue.
Best nip it in the bud, before it grows into something worse.
"I didn't mean to offend."
Finally, Misha seems to relax, which in turn feels like a load off my shoulders.
"It's okay Micchan, it's your first day. Do you want us to show you the way to the nurse's office?"
"Please, yes."
I almost forgot that I need to stop in over there.
I wave goodbye to the student councilwomen, having given great gratitude for their gracious guidance.
The door with the 'Head Nurse' label is half-open, so I take it as an invitation to walk in.
Said nurse, a man in his late twenties or early thirties, gives me a grin as he looks away from his laptop.
"Oho! You must be the new student in class 3-3!"
I nod: "Yeah. How can you tell?"
He leans in slightly, creating a conspiratorial vibe:
"Everyone else came in the morning but you."
Well damn, not my fault the trains had an issue.
"Come, sit down. Have you been given any information about the school?"
I take up his invitation and sit down onto one of those three-legged examination chairs.
"Only what was given in the pamphlet. I don't know if I was supposed to learn more."
He shakes his hand in a dismissive gesture, then types my name into a program search bar.
"Mitsuaki Toru coming to us from Osaka. Several eyesight-related issues."
Is that surprise in his voice?
"Can you please take off your glasses?"
"Uh, sure?"
I oblige, and the world goes from high definition into very abstract watercolors, edges fading and mixing into each other.
It's no longer possible to tell what his expression is, mostly because the only way I can tell where his face is by the fact that there's a glob of skin and hair color above the glob that kinda looks like a labcoat.
"Can you look over there to the chart?"
I haven't noticed any visual chart as I sat down.
"Nope."
"Alright, mind if I position you?"
"Go ahead."
He guides my shoulders so I look at a mass of green with a whitish block in the middle.
"I see that there is what I assume is a piece of paper."
"You can't make out any of the letters or numbers?"
"Without you telling me, I wouldn't have an idea that there are any."
He does something on the laptop, but I can't tell what from the sound of typing and clicking alone.
"Alright, please put your glasses back on."
And the world comes alive again, in stunning high definition. It's still as fascinating an experience as it was in the first months of my eyesight deteriorating.
"So, you should be fine so long as you don't lose them. If something does happen, please reach out and we'll arrange an express delivery of a replacement pair."
"I do have an older pair – not exactly great, but I can tell people apart while we're in the same room."
"Hold on to those too, then."
He clicks something on the laptop and then folds it closed.
"Planning on joining any of the clubs?"
I was going to look into the track club, actually. Muira did offer.
"Yeah, track."
"You are class 3-3, that means Muira."
"Are you sure you want to be a nurse – this is the second time you've deduced something and I haven't been in here that long."
"On the contrary, deduction is almost as important as raw knowledge and experience in medicine," he says with a cheerful finality to it.
Can't really argue his point, to be honest, so he's right to punctuate it.
"The track team is a good environment. If you're really going to go for it, the teacher in charge has experience with best practices and equipment selection – otherwise, just try and show up regularly."
"Cool. Thanks for the heads-up."
"I'll run the full battery on you in about a month, the information your parents sent over with your transfer request is still recent."
He puts a finger on his chin, trying to scare up any other things worth mentioning, only to shake his head:
"That's about it from me, unless you have any questions?"
"Yes."
"Oh?"
I point to the program-sized box of condoms on one of the shelves in the office.
He gives me a knowing nod:
"I might look old, but it wasn't so long ago that I too was a teenager – if you think you may have need for them, don't hesitate to ask. I even have a cool pamphlet about how to properly store, use, and dispose of them."
I somehow doubt any piece of media pertaining to sexual education can be cool.
"Thanks for looking out, I guess?"
A wink, though it's not nearly as creepy as winks usually are:
"Happy to help. Now shoo, I have a computer game to get back to."
Looking back on my previous work, it was very much a product of its time - it was a community, people were learning, characters were traded and ideas explored, then backtracked on.
This one is a shorter and possessed of a clear vision from the start, instead of discovering one along the way.