Not Tenimyu-related, but WTF.
I'm sorry for posting non-Tenimyu stuff, but this is too weird to post in my LJ or in my fic comm. This is Mia anothermiyaw's fault. Please don't read if you like Twilight to the extreme, seriously. No offense to Meyer fans ^^;. This...this is just one of those crack I throw up when I'm bored and when people nudge me to do evil *stares at Mia*.
Title: White Light
by: nikki hiiragizawa
Fandom: Katekyou Hitman Reborn meets Twilight
Pairing: uh... Byakuran x Irie o-o
Genre: crack. crack. badfic crack.
Rating: PG?
Disclaimer: Reborn! (c) Amano Akira; Twilight (c) Stephenie Meyer
Notes: This is someone else’s fault, I swear. Mia anothermiyaw ... I should be writing NaNo today <3.
My mother drove me to Namimori in a rental car. I wanted to just ride the train and get there on my own, but she insisted that she wanted to come with me. I let her do as she liked, hating to have another heated argument with her just before we go our separate ways.
She stopped by a waiting shed near the street where I was supposed to go. I got out of the car and reluctantly slipped on a jacket over my favorite white shirt. The shirt had a large, glaring picture and kanji of Shinjuku, where we used to live. I wore it as a farewell gesture, but right now, wearing it on the streets of Namimori seemed inappropriate.
I’ve come to Namimori again. I’ve lived here for some time when I was young, when my mother was newly-divorced and I was still studying. It was in this town that I experienced being tortured to the point of mutilation by my sister, who didn’t see anyone else aside from her cute little brother -- me. The town was generally peaceful and quiet (save for our house) but the random outbursts, explosions and apparitions from the neighbors left me a traumatic past.
We left this town because of my trauma and because my dad decided to live here and my mom didn’t want to see him. But now, things had changed. I had to go live with my father now, partly to run away from my still-obsessed sister and partly to let my mother live in peace with her new love.
Now, I’ve come back to this town to let that past haunt me once more. I detested Namimori. I preferred living in Shinjuku with its bright night lights, lively neighborhood, delicious food and bargain stores that sells computer parts and other gadgets for almost half their prices. But despite that, I’d rather spend time here in this traumatic town that live with my sister who decided that my life can be lived by two people.
“Shou-chan,” my mom called out as she peered out of her car. “You don’t have to do this.”
My mom looked a little like me, or so the neighbors before said. How could I leave my pretty, accomplished and romantic mother? Well, of course I could, seeing how she had done everything for me in the past even if she spent more time bugging me to get a girlfriend than helping me do my homework. Plus, I didn’t want to live with my evil sister again -- ever. Last time I decided against leaving, she planted BL manga in my room.
...Well, they were mine, yes. But they were supposed to be hidden!
“I want to do this,” I told my mom. It was not really a lie, but my mom seemed to think I was lying. I crossed my fingers behind my back just in case she started a discussion about me leaving the house again.
“...Tell your father he’s...well, tell him I said hi.”
“I’ll tell him.”
“I’ll see you soon,” she said, seemingly having no intention of ending this discussion. “You can come home whenever you want. I won’t make any comment about the guys you bring home again.’
“Mom,” I warned. “I’ll be fine.”
She smiled at me from the car before rolling up the window and driving off as fast as she could, leaving me behind by the waiting shed with four bags, one box and a cloud of dust. I walked towards my dad’s house.
Hiroshi, my dad, was quite pleased with the fact that I decided to be with him. Still, it was a bit awkward, living with someone I hadn’t seen since I was a kindergarten kid. We’re not really conversationalists and I’m so sure we don’t have anything in common. Not to mention that I hadn’t really made a secret of my dislike for Namimori.
But then, starting today, I’ll be living with him.
Hiroshi was waiting by the street corner when I arrived. He gave me a nod and helped me with my things. “Long time no see, err...Shouichi,” he greeted. “Wow, it’s been several years since I last saw you and you haven’t changed at all.”
Please. The last time you saw me I was six years old.
I followed him, walking just to his left, towards his house. “I bought a motorcycle for you. It’s really cheap,” he suddenly announced. I started having a bad feeling about this. My dad is a bit old, but surely, he could still manage to tell bicycles and motorcycles apart, right?
“What year is it?” I asked, ignoring the fact that I was a bit impolite. He bought me something and I was already asking about its price and vintage.
Just as I thought, though, my dad had problems judging vehicles. “Um, remember Morishita-san by the market?” he asked. “He got too old to drive his motorcycle so I bought it off him.”
I groaned. “Dad, I’m not a mechanic. If anything goes wrong in one of its parts, we could just throw it in the bin...”
“It’s still running!” my dad defensively said. “B-Besides, I already bought it for you! Kind of like a homecoming gift.”
Wow, I didn’t even have to exert effort in bargaining.
“Y...You didn’t have to,” I said, feeling a little guilty. “I could find a lot of part-time jobs here and buy a Harley eventually.”
“Nah,” my dad said. “I want you to live happily here.”
Oh. Okay. That would be close to impossible, especially since I already made it a point that I hated Namimori.
But I still went to live here.
After some silence, we finally reached his house. It was a small house, quite old. There were lots of junk everywhere -- a washing machine that was probably not working, a crate of bottles, a pile of wood.
It was too messy -- like that recycled Earth from Wall-E.
Still, the appearance of recyclables did not deter my attention from the vehicle perched on the front steps of the house, just inside the small gate. It was a red scooter, kind of like the ones grandmas drive to buy coffee down the street. It looked a bit...old but I had to admit I found it cute.
“I like the...scooter a lot. Thanks, Otou-san.” Oh well at least I can use this to go to school tomorrow. I wouldn’t want to walk all the way to Namimori Community College.
As I walked to my so-called room to unpack, the realization hit me. I had to enter a new college tomorrow.
Namimori Community College has a very small population. These people mostly grew up as playmates. Their grandparents probably experienced puppy love together or something.
Even though I lived here before, I would still be treated as the new guy from Shinjuku, the possible otaku, the ronery guy.
My previous life here would be an advantage. Maybe they’ll take little notice of me when they found out that I’ve been living here during the first fourteen years of my life. But I was pretty sure that my appearance: orange hair, freckles, glasses, geek aura and inexplicable clumsiness will probably make me stand out all the more.
I stared at my reflection from the mirror that hung in my bedroom. Who am I kidding. No matter where I go, I’d never fit in. I’ve been born a hikikomori, an antisocial, and I would be like that forever. I’ll never ever fit it. Maybe it was because all other people are idiots and should learn the basics of C++ before speaking to me.
I wasn’t able to sleep well that night. I felt caged, imprisoned, confined, and other synonyms. I missed Shinjuku’s night life. I cried all night, mourning for the loss of bargain stuff I could leech off the computer shops there. Now, the only shop I could see bargains from would be the local supermarket.
Breakfast was uneventful. My dad was hurrying to get to the earliest train possible to avoid the rush. I ate breakfast alone, uncomfortable that the kitchen looked like it was infested with aliens. I decided to do my best to do the housekeeping while I’m here.
It was raining, typical Namimori weather, and I immediately locked the house and opened my umbrella. I walked into the rain under my umbrella’s shield, listening to the pitter-patter of my own feet as I walked to my scooter.
The scooter was covered with a large piece of tarpauline. Dad probably had it covered before it rained. I sat on it and placed the key in the ignition. It started well, but I didn’t have any idea how it’ll run against the rain. I revved it, and the machine roared so loudly, I thought I would go deaf. I reluctantly ignored the roar and steered the scooter out of the gate. As long as it could get me to the college, I wouldn’t mind a little noise.
Finding the college was not that hard. I knew that it was built near the rest of the Namimori school, where I studied earlier. I found the row of buildings and parked in the lot in front of the one that looked like the college building. A few paces ahead, I saw a shiny large motorcycle (a Harley?) and it stood out from the mass of bicycles and scooters just like mine.
As usual, the school had the rural feel in it: green shrubbery, chain link fences, vegetable garden at the back for the discipline committee’s food and the tell-tale chime of the school clock. Well, I thought, at least this was something I need not adjust to.
I walked inside the institution and looked for the dean’s office. A secretary was there. I introduced myself and she recognized me immediately. “Ah, Irie-san’s son. Welcome to Namimori Community College.”
I bowed in greeting, fidgeting as she stood up to hand me a folder. “Here’s your schedule and book list,” she told me. “There’s also a map of the school, in case you get lost and couldn’t ask for directions.” She gave me an attendance slip, for my professors to sign while I didn’t have an I.D. yet. She went over my classes, telling me where to fin the rooms. Eventually, she ushered me out of the office, leaving me to fend for myself while I try to mingle with the Namimori crowd.
Taking a deep breath, I walked through the corridor with the other students. They all ignored me, what a relief.
My first class went well. Unlike high school, no introduction was needed and I merely sat at the back of the class, listening to the professor. At the end of the class, I approached my professor and had my slip signed. It was a good class and I didn’t attract too much attention because of my hair or freckles -- it was a good sign.
I went out of the room and started walking to my next class when someone caught up to me. “Hey,” the young man said. He was blonde and about as tall as me. He had a weird tiara on his head. “You’re Irie Shouichi, right?”
“Yeah, so what?” I said, not even letting my eyes look at him for more than five seconds.
“Ushishishi. Nice meeting you. I’m Prince the Ripper.”
I stopped walking, facing him in surprise. What was this guy smoking. “What?” I asked.
This...Prince the Ripper chuckled some more and patted my arm. “I’ll let you call me Bel if you become my minion.”
“W-What are you talking about?” I demanded. I was freaking out, but I had to go to my next class. I did not wait for his answer and instead, brought out my schedule so I can see where I had to go next.
“Oh, we have the same class again, Shou-chan,” Bel said, grinning comfortably. “I could help you find our room.”
I was trapped. I had the feeling I would be ripped to pieces if I didn’t follow him. “Oh...thanks...”
“So you’re from Shinjuku, ne?” Bel asked as we walked towards our next class. How nice, he was trying to start a conversation. “Is it different from here?”
“Y-Yeah,” I replied as I looked around. Seriously, the guys around us seemed to be eavesdropping. What was so interesting about Shinjuku and me anyway?
“You have orange hair. Are you really Japanese?” Bel asked me. I was getting pretty annoyed.
“My mom used to drink lots of tomato juice before I was born,” I answered.
“Ushishishi.” Bel seemed amused at my answer. “Well, my mom was royalty, even after I was born.”
I can’t help but roll my eyes, hoping he didn’t notice it under my glasses.
The rest of the morning occurred without any problems, aside from my chemistry class where the professor asked me to stand up and introduce myself. I blushed, stammered and ended up falling flat on my face that I nearly hit my head on a tap.
One of my seatmates in my class before lunch invited me to eat with him. He was tall, with widely insane eyes and long, platinum blonde hair. I was a bit wary of him, but he had good fashion sense so I decided to go with him. I couldn’t remember his name because he spoke too fast. I just pretended to know and smile at his every curse directed to a teacher or subject.
In the cafeteria, we ended up sitting with a lot of other people. He introduced me to the rest of the boys, but honestly, my poor mind could only take so much. I blinked at them, said hi, and forgot all of their names. The boy from another class, Bel, waved at me from across the room. My new friend didn’t seem to approve of him since he shouted to keep Bel’s mouth shut.
So I was there, sitting in the cafeteria and not really paying particular attention to my so-called new friends. It was then that I saw them.
They were sitting at the far end of the cafeteria, but my glasses-aided eyes saw them anyway. They were five people, sitting around a table in complete silence. They all had trays before them but they weren’t eating. They were the only people in the room who weren’t staring at me and my orange hair. Instead, they were looking at different directions, away from anyone. I then realized that they weren’t like anyone else.
They didn’t look alike. one of them was tall, blonde and had a cue stick in one hand (he kept stroking it, it was quite noticeable). The other was tall with black hair and he was staring at the table with his beady eyes. Another was shorter than the others, with blonde hair, goggles and a jumpsuit that could have seen better days. Another, the only female, was petite with black hair. The last was tall, with platinum blond hair and interesting eyes.
They were different, but they had similarities. They were all pale, paler than me. They also wore strangely decorated clothes, either black or white. They were like pale shadows at the back of the canteen, unmoving and without sound.
I couldn’t look away.
They all looked like models, like 3d images of an online game. They were doing nothing, but seemingly so preoccupied. I kept staring at them, wondering why them, seemingly from the world of RPG, were here in such a boring place.
“Who are they?” I asked the platinum blonde guy beside me. I still couldn’t remember his name.
As I looked back to refer to them, I met the eyes of one of them. The one with short, platinum blonde hair was looking at my friend and let his eyes travel to meet mine.
He immediately withdrew his gaze, turning to quickly to another place. He seemed bored as usual. I kept my own gaze down, embarrassed that I had been caught watching them. Silly me, I should be minding my own business.
The long-haired blonde guy beside me snorted. “Ah, you mean the Giglioneros.”
“Giglioneros?” I repeated.
“Yep. That’s Gamma, Genkishi, Spanner, Uni and Byakuran. They live together in that old house at the edge of Namimori. The one looking like a haunted house,” he cackled. I rolled my eyes.
Strange, unpopular names, I thought. I suddenly remembered what my seatmate’s name was: Squalo something. Oh well, he had a weird name, too, but it didn’t have charisma like Giglionero’s.
“They are all...nice-looking,” I said, apparently an understatement of what I really think.
“Voooi! They’re just pieces of trash,” Squalo said with a somewhat giggly sound. “They just appeared here from nowhere, squat and went on like some mysterious family. I ignore them.”
I felt a little pity for them. They didn’t seem to be liked here, then. They were like outsiders. Somehow, I felt for them. They were just like me. An outsider. As I looked at them, I met the eyes of the one who looked at me before. This time, he was smirking a little, as if he was interested in me. I looked away.
“Who is that guy with the platinum blonde hair?” I asked Squalo.
“Voiii! That’s Byakuran. Don’t waste your time over him, he’s a serious jerk.” He made a face. I wondered if Squalo tried getting into Byakuran’s pants before and got rejected.
I inwardly grinned. I looked at Byakuran again. He wasn’t looking at me, but he was apparently smirking, like he was planning something.
Lunch ended with me wondering about the Giglioneros and their hidden mystery. I walked to class with another shy guy (I didn’t catch his name) and entered the biology lab.
The boy I was with went to the back of the class to sit with a friend. I was left to look for a free seat -- which I found right beside Byakuran. I instantly noticed him because of his white outfit and weird hair. I passed by him to sit down on that vacant chair. In an instant, I felt him stiffen. I looked at him and our eyes met again, yet he had the strangest expression in his face. I looked away, partly rattled by what happened.
I took the seat beside him and set my bag on the table. I didn’t look at him but I saw him draw farther from me. He looked away as if he was seeing or smelling something bad. Conscious, I took a whiff of myself. I smelled like strawberries, since that was the only shampoo available in the local drugstore. I also smelled like my old cologne, which I wore since I was a high schooler. There was nothing really bad about my smell and I wondered why he was being so overacting. I looked away from him, trying to focus my attention to the boring biology lecture.
At one point, I took a peek at him from the side of my glasses. I found him staring at me, wide-eyed. His fist was tightly curled on his thigh and his back was rigid. I wondered if he always stiffens at the sight of a new person in school -- or maybe the sight of an orange-haired one. Really now.
If this was his normal behavior, I’d totally swallow all of Squalo’s noisy aura willingly.
As I thought about it, the bell rang loudly. Byakuran was quickly out of his seat. He rose with grace and turned around, walking away and out of the room before anyone else could stand up.
I gathered my books and fixed my bag, a little vexed and teary-eyed. Was my perfume that bad? My mom said it smelled nice. It wasn’t fair. Was he judging me because of my orange hair or because I didn’t wear designer clothes? For some reason, I was annoyed and humiliated.
“HI! AREN’T YOU IRIE SHOUICHI?!” someone asked.
I looked up to see a young man, quite well-built and tall, with cropped hair. He was grinning at me widely. Maybe he didn’t think I smelled bad.
“Shouichi is alright,” I said.
“I’M SASAGAWA RYOUHEI FROM THE BOXING CLUB!” he announced cheerily. I longed to have his happiness. “PLEASE JOIN THE BOXING CLUB!”
“Uh...I’m not good at gym classes...” I said.
His face seemed to sadden a little, but his spirit was dampened. “OH WELL I HOPED YOU COULD TEACH ME HOW YOU SOCKED BYAKURAN.”
“E...excuse me?”
Sasagawa laughed. “He looked like he was punched with a death blow or something!” he said, still laughing. “I won’t stop pushing you to join the club, though! See ya!” He traipsed away from me. I wondered what the hell was wrong with the people I meet.
The final bell rang. I hurried to the office to surrender my attendance slip. As I entered the room, I was surprised to see Byakuran in the office. He seemed to be arguing with the secretary. He was trying to change his schedule in biology.
I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t be the reason, right? Something else must have happened that made him want to change times. A...A person I just met couldn’t have possibly have that kind of intense dislike for me.
A accidentally stepped on a conveniently-placed piece of crumpled paper on the floor. Byakuran whirled around and saw me. He looked at me from head to foot before smiling to the secretary once more. “I see, I guess it cannot be helped. Thank you for your time.” He turned around without looking at me again and went out of the door, closing it as he left.
I turned to the desk and meekly handed the secretary my attendance slip.
“How was your first day?” she asked cheerfuly.
“Fine,” I lied. She looked at me skeptically. It was probably obvious on my face.
I slowly walked back to my scooter. It was the only scooter left in the lot. It was like a bit of comfort to me. I sat on it and leaned against the handlebars, tired of all the strange things that happened and of the strange people that I met today. It was turning cold again, really what’s with the mist in this town, so I decided to stop acting like a dramatic idiot and go home for real.
.end..
....Just so you know, I have no plans of continuing this, even though it was pretty easier to write than my own NaNo stuff o_o. Also, Meyer's original chapter is longer (v. long in fact) so I just removed all the unnecessary stuff LOL ^^;. Sorry D:
Title: White Light
by: nikki hiiragizawa
Fandom: Katekyou Hitman Reborn meets Twilight
Pairing: uh... Byakuran x Irie o-o
Genre: crack. crack. badfic crack.
Rating: PG?
Disclaimer: Reborn! (c) Amano Akira; Twilight (c) Stephenie Meyer
Notes: This is someone else’s fault, I swear. Mia anothermiyaw ... I should be writing NaNo today <3.
My mother drove me to Namimori in a rental car. I wanted to just ride the train and get there on my own, but she insisted that she wanted to come with me. I let her do as she liked, hating to have another heated argument with her just before we go our separate ways.
She stopped by a waiting shed near the street where I was supposed to go. I got out of the car and reluctantly slipped on a jacket over my favorite white shirt. The shirt had a large, glaring picture and kanji of Shinjuku, where we used to live. I wore it as a farewell gesture, but right now, wearing it on the streets of Namimori seemed inappropriate.
I’ve come to Namimori again. I’ve lived here for some time when I was young, when my mother was newly-divorced and I was still studying. It was in this town that I experienced being tortured to the point of mutilation by my sister, who didn’t see anyone else aside from her cute little brother -- me. The town was generally peaceful and quiet (save for our house) but the random outbursts, explosions and apparitions from the neighbors left me a traumatic past.
We left this town because of my trauma and because my dad decided to live here and my mom didn’t want to see him. But now, things had changed. I had to go live with my father now, partly to run away from my still-obsessed sister and partly to let my mother live in peace with her new love.
Now, I’ve come back to this town to let that past haunt me once more. I detested Namimori. I preferred living in Shinjuku with its bright night lights, lively neighborhood, delicious food and bargain stores that sells computer parts and other gadgets for almost half their prices. But despite that, I’d rather spend time here in this traumatic town that live with my sister who decided that my life can be lived by two people.
“Shou-chan,” my mom called out as she peered out of her car. “You don’t have to do this.”
My mom looked a little like me, or so the neighbors before said. How could I leave my pretty, accomplished and romantic mother? Well, of course I could, seeing how she had done everything for me in the past even if she spent more time bugging me to get a girlfriend than helping me do my homework. Plus, I didn’t want to live with my evil sister again -- ever. Last time I decided against leaving, she planted BL manga in my room.
...Well, they were mine, yes. But they were supposed to be hidden!
“I want to do this,” I told my mom. It was not really a lie, but my mom seemed to think I was lying. I crossed my fingers behind my back just in case she started a discussion about me leaving the house again.
“...Tell your father he’s...well, tell him I said hi.”
“I’ll tell him.”
“I’ll see you soon,” she said, seemingly having no intention of ending this discussion. “You can come home whenever you want. I won’t make any comment about the guys you bring home again.’
“Mom,” I warned. “I’ll be fine.”
She smiled at me from the car before rolling up the window and driving off as fast as she could, leaving me behind by the waiting shed with four bags, one box and a cloud of dust. I walked towards my dad’s house.
Hiroshi, my dad, was quite pleased with the fact that I decided to be with him. Still, it was a bit awkward, living with someone I hadn’t seen since I was a kindergarten kid. We’re not really conversationalists and I’m so sure we don’t have anything in common. Not to mention that I hadn’t really made a secret of my dislike for Namimori.
But then, starting today, I’ll be living with him.
Hiroshi was waiting by the street corner when I arrived. He gave me a nod and helped me with my things. “Long time no see, err...Shouichi,” he greeted. “Wow, it’s been several years since I last saw you and you haven’t changed at all.”
Please. The last time you saw me I was six years old.
I followed him, walking just to his left, towards his house. “I bought a motorcycle for you. It’s really cheap,” he suddenly announced. I started having a bad feeling about this. My dad is a bit old, but surely, he could still manage to tell bicycles and motorcycles apart, right?
“What year is it?” I asked, ignoring the fact that I was a bit impolite. He bought me something and I was already asking about its price and vintage.
Just as I thought, though, my dad had problems judging vehicles. “Um, remember Morishita-san by the market?” he asked. “He got too old to drive his motorcycle so I bought it off him.”
I groaned. “Dad, I’m not a mechanic. If anything goes wrong in one of its parts, we could just throw it in the bin...”
“It’s still running!” my dad defensively said. “B-Besides, I already bought it for you! Kind of like a homecoming gift.”
Wow, I didn’t even have to exert effort in bargaining.
“Y...You didn’t have to,” I said, feeling a little guilty. “I could find a lot of part-time jobs here and buy a Harley eventually.”
“Nah,” my dad said. “I want you to live happily here.”
Oh. Okay. That would be close to impossible, especially since I already made it a point that I hated Namimori.
But I still went to live here.
After some silence, we finally reached his house. It was a small house, quite old. There were lots of junk everywhere -- a washing machine that was probably not working, a crate of bottles, a pile of wood.
It was too messy -- like that recycled Earth from Wall-E.
Still, the appearance of recyclables did not deter my attention from the vehicle perched on the front steps of the house, just inside the small gate. It was a red scooter, kind of like the ones grandmas drive to buy coffee down the street. It looked a bit...old but I had to admit I found it cute.
“I like the...scooter a lot. Thanks, Otou-san.” Oh well at least I can use this to go to school tomorrow. I wouldn’t want to walk all the way to Namimori Community College.
As I walked to my so-called room to unpack, the realization hit me. I had to enter a new college tomorrow.
Namimori Community College has a very small population. These people mostly grew up as playmates. Their grandparents probably experienced puppy love together or something.
Even though I lived here before, I would still be treated as the new guy from Shinjuku, the possible otaku, the ronery guy.
My previous life here would be an advantage. Maybe they’ll take little notice of me when they found out that I’ve been living here during the first fourteen years of my life. But I was pretty sure that my appearance: orange hair, freckles, glasses, geek aura and inexplicable clumsiness will probably make me stand out all the more.
I stared at my reflection from the mirror that hung in my bedroom. Who am I kidding. No matter where I go, I’d never fit in. I’ve been born a hikikomori, an antisocial, and I would be like that forever. I’ll never ever fit it. Maybe it was because all other people are idiots and should learn the basics of C++ before speaking to me.
I wasn’t able to sleep well that night. I felt caged, imprisoned, confined, and other synonyms. I missed Shinjuku’s night life. I cried all night, mourning for the loss of bargain stuff I could leech off the computer shops there. Now, the only shop I could see bargains from would be the local supermarket.
Breakfast was uneventful. My dad was hurrying to get to the earliest train possible to avoid the rush. I ate breakfast alone, uncomfortable that the kitchen looked like it was infested with aliens. I decided to do my best to do the housekeeping while I’m here.
It was raining, typical Namimori weather, and I immediately locked the house and opened my umbrella. I walked into the rain under my umbrella’s shield, listening to the pitter-patter of my own feet as I walked to my scooter.
The scooter was covered with a large piece of tarpauline. Dad probably had it covered before it rained. I sat on it and placed the key in the ignition. It started well, but I didn’t have any idea how it’ll run against the rain. I revved it, and the machine roared so loudly, I thought I would go deaf. I reluctantly ignored the roar and steered the scooter out of the gate. As long as it could get me to the college, I wouldn’t mind a little noise.
Finding the college was not that hard. I knew that it was built near the rest of the Namimori school, where I studied earlier. I found the row of buildings and parked in the lot in front of the one that looked like the college building. A few paces ahead, I saw a shiny large motorcycle (a Harley?) and it stood out from the mass of bicycles and scooters just like mine.
As usual, the school had the rural feel in it: green shrubbery, chain link fences, vegetable garden at the back for the discipline committee’s food and the tell-tale chime of the school clock. Well, I thought, at least this was something I need not adjust to.
I walked inside the institution and looked for the dean’s office. A secretary was there. I introduced myself and she recognized me immediately. “Ah, Irie-san’s son. Welcome to Namimori Community College.”
I bowed in greeting, fidgeting as she stood up to hand me a folder. “Here’s your schedule and book list,” she told me. “There’s also a map of the school, in case you get lost and couldn’t ask for directions.” She gave me an attendance slip, for my professors to sign while I didn’t have an I.D. yet. She went over my classes, telling me where to fin the rooms. Eventually, she ushered me out of the office, leaving me to fend for myself while I try to mingle with the Namimori crowd.
Taking a deep breath, I walked through the corridor with the other students. They all ignored me, what a relief.
My first class went well. Unlike high school, no introduction was needed and I merely sat at the back of the class, listening to the professor. At the end of the class, I approached my professor and had my slip signed. It was a good class and I didn’t attract too much attention because of my hair or freckles -- it was a good sign.
I went out of the room and started walking to my next class when someone caught up to me. “Hey,” the young man said. He was blonde and about as tall as me. He had a weird tiara on his head. “You’re Irie Shouichi, right?”
“Yeah, so what?” I said, not even letting my eyes look at him for more than five seconds.
“Ushishishi. Nice meeting you. I’m Prince the Ripper.”
I stopped walking, facing him in surprise. What was this guy smoking. “What?” I asked.
This...Prince the Ripper chuckled some more and patted my arm. “I’ll let you call me Bel if you become my minion.”
“W-What are you talking about?” I demanded. I was freaking out, but I had to go to my next class. I did not wait for his answer and instead, brought out my schedule so I can see where I had to go next.
“Oh, we have the same class again, Shou-chan,” Bel said, grinning comfortably. “I could help you find our room.”
I was trapped. I had the feeling I would be ripped to pieces if I didn’t follow him. “Oh...thanks...”
“So you’re from Shinjuku, ne?” Bel asked as we walked towards our next class. How nice, he was trying to start a conversation. “Is it different from here?”
“Y-Yeah,” I replied as I looked around. Seriously, the guys around us seemed to be eavesdropping. What was so interesting about Shinjuku and me anyway?
“You have orange hair. Are you really Japanese?” Bel asked me. I was getting pretty annoyed.
“My mom used to drink lots of tomato juice before I was born,” I answered.
“Ushishishi.” Bel seemed amused at my answer. “Well, my mom was royalty, even after I was born.”
I can’t help but roll my eyes, hoping he didn’t notice it under my glasses.
The rest of the morning occurred without any problems, aside from my chemistry class where the professor asked me to stand up and introduce myself. I blushed, stammered and ended up falling flat on my face that I nearly hit my head on a tap.
One of my seatmates in my class before lunch invited me to eat with him. He was tall, with widely insane eyes and long, platinum blonde hair. I was a bit wary of him, but he had good fashion sense so I decided to go with him. I couldn’t remember his name because he spoke too fast. I just pretended to know and smile at his every curse directed to a teacher or subject.
In the cafeteria, we ended up sitting with a lot of other people. He introduced me to the rest of the boys, but honestly, my poor mind could only take so much. I blinked at them, said hi, and forgot all of their names. The boy from another class, Bel, waved at me from across the room. My new friend didn’t seem to approve of him since he shouted to keep Bel’s mouth shut.
So I was there, sitting in the cafeteria and not really paying particular attention to my so-called new friends. It was then that I saw them.
They were sitting at the far end of the cafeteria, but my glasses-aided eyes saw them anyway. They were five people, sitting around a table in complete silence. They all had trays before them but they weren’t eating. They were the only people in the room who weren’t staring at me and my orange hair. Instead, they were looking at different directions, away from anyone. I then realized that they weren’t like anyone else.
They didn’t look alike. one of them was tall, blonde and had a cue stick in one hand (he kept stroking it, it was quite noticeable). The other was tall with black hair and he was staring at the table with his beady eyes. Another was shorter than the others, with blonde hair, goggles and a jumpsuit that could have seen better days. Another, the only female, was petite with black hair. The last was tall, with platinum blond hair and interesting eyes.
They were different, but they had similarities. They were all pale, paler than me. They also wore strangely decorated clothes, either black or white. They were like pale shadows at the back of the canteen, unmoving and without sound.
I couldn’t look away.
They all looked like models, like 3d images of an online game. They were doing nothing, but seemingly so preoccupied. I kept staring at them, wondering why them, seemingly from the world of RPG, were here in such a boring place.
“Who are they?” I asked the platinum blonde guy beside me. I still couldn’t remember his name.
As I looked back to refer to them, I met the eyes of one of them. The one with short, platinum blonde hair was looking at my friend and let his eyes travel to meet mine.
He immediately withdrew his gaze, turning to quickly to another place. He seemed bored as usual. I kept my own gaze down, embarrassed that I had been caught watching them. Silly me, I should be minding my own business.
The long-haired blonde guy beside me snorted. “Ah, you mean the Giglioneros.”
“Giglioneros?” I repeated.
“Yep. That’s Gamma, Genkishi, Spanner, Uni and Byakuran. They live together in that old house at the edge of Namimori. The one looking like a haunted house,” he cackled. I rolled my eyes.
Strange, unpopular names, I thought. I suddenly remembered what my seatmate’s name was: Squalo something. Oh well, he had a weird name, too, but it didn’t have charisma like Giglionero’s.
“They are all...nice-looking,” I said, apparently an understatement of what I really think.
“Voooi! They’re just pieces of trash,” Squalo said with a somewhat giggly sound. “They just appeared here from nowhere, squat and went on like some mysterious family. I ignore them.”
I felt a little pity for them. They didn’t seem to be liked here, then. They were like outsiders. Somehow, I felt for them. They were just like me. An outsider. As I looked at them, I met the eyes of the one who looked at me before. This time, he was smirking a little, as if he was interested in me. I looked away.
“Who is that guy with the platinum blonde hair?” I asked Squalo.
“Voiii! That’s Byakuran. Don’t waste your time over him, he’s a serious jerk.” He made a face. I wondered if Squalo tried getting into Byakuran’s pants before and got rejected.
I inwardly grinned. I looked at Byakuran again. He wasn’t looking at me, but he was apparently smirking, like he was planning something.
Lunch ended with me wondering about the Giglioneros and their hidden mystery. I walked to class with another shy guy (I didn’t catch his name) and entered the biology lab.
The boy I was with went to the back of the class to sit with a friend. I was left to look for a free seat -- which I found right beside Byakuran. I instantly noticed him because of his white outfit and weird hair. I passed by him to sit down on that vacant chair. In an instant, I felt him stiffen. I looked at him and our eyes met again, yet he had the strangest expression in his face. I looked away, partly rattled by what happened.
I took the seat beside him and set my bag on the table. I didn’t look at him but I saw him draw farther from me. He looked away as if he was seeing or smelling something bad. Conscious, I took a whiff of myself. I smelled like strawberries, since that was the only shampoo available in the local drugstore. I also smelled like my old cologne, which I wore since I was a high schooler. There was nothing really bad about my smell and I wondered why he was being so overacting. I looked away from him, trying to focus my attention to the boring biology lecture.
At one point, I took a peek at him from the side of my glasses. I found him staring at me, wide-eyed. His fist was tightly curled on his thigh and his back was rigid. I wondered if he always stiffens at the sight of a new person in school -- or maybe the sight of an orange-haired one. Really now.
If this was his normal behavior, I’d totally swallow all of Squalo’s noisy aura willingly.
As I thought about it, the bell rang loudly. Byakuran was quickly out of his seat. He rose with grace and turned around, walking away and out of the room before anyone else could stand up.
I gathered my books and fixed my bag, a little vexed and teary-eyed. Was my perfume that bad? My mom said it smelled nice. It wasn’t fair. Was he judging me because of my orange hair or because I didn’t wear designer clothes? For some reason, I was annoyed and humiliated.
“HI! AREN’T YOU IRIE SHOUICHI?!” someone asked.
I looked up to see a young man, quite well-built and tall, with cropped hair. He was grinning at me widely. Maybe he didn’t think I smelled bad.
“Shouichi is alright,” I said.
“I’M SASAGAWA RYOUHEI FROM THE BOXING CLUB!” he announced cheerily. I longed to have his happiness. “PLEASE JOIN THE BOXING CLUB!”
“Uh...I’m not good at gym classes...” I said.
His face seemed to sadden a little, but his spirit was dampened. “OH WELL I HOPED YOU COULD TEACH ME HOW YOU SOCKED BYAKURAN.”
“E...excuse me?”
Sasagawa laughed. “He looked like he was punched with a death blow or something!” he said, still laughing. “I won’t stop pushing you to join the club, though! See ya!” He traipsed away from me. I wondered what the hell was wrong with the people I meet.
The final bell rang. I hurried to the office to surrender my attendance slip. As I entered the room, I was surprised to see Byakuran in the office. He seemed to be arguing with the secretary. He was trying to change his schedule in biology.
I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t be the reason, right? Something else must have happened that made him want to change times. A...A person I just met couldn’t have possibly have that kind of intense dislike for me.
A accidentally stepped on a conveniently-placed piece of crumpled paper on the floor. Byakuran whirled around and saw me. He looked at me from head to foot before smiling to the secretary once more. “I see, I guess it cannot be helped. Thank you for your time.” He turned around without looking at me again and went out of the door, closing it as he left.
I turned to the desk and meekly handed the secretary my attendance slip.
“How was your first day?” she asked cheerfuly.
“Fine,” I lied. She looked at me skeptically. It was probably obvious on my face.
I slowly walked back to my scooter. It was the only scooter left in the lot. It was like a bit of comfort to me. I sat on it and leaned against the handlebars, tired of all the strange things that happened and of the strange people that I met today. It was turning cold again, really what’s with the mist in this town, so I decided to stop acting like a dramatic idiot and go home for real.
.end..
....Just so you know, I have no plans of continuing this, even though it was pretty easier to write than my own NaNo stuff o_o. Also, Meyer's original chapter is longer (v. long in fact) so I just removed all the unnecessary stuff LOL ^^;. Sorry D: