College Still-Life (Higher Education, Eat Your Heart Out)
Title: College Still-Life (Higher Education, Eat Your Heart Out)
Pairing/Group: Yamapi-centric, featuring NEWS and Arashi and a few cameo appearances.
Rating: G
Warnings: This is AU!
Notes: tinyangl , I truly hope you enjoy this! I had a lot of fun writing it. Thank you for such a fun and flexible request! Merry holidays. <3
Summary: Glimpses of daily life during a couple of days in Yamapi’s senior year of college.
As class rounded up and the students began gathering their things, Yamapi stared mournfully at the piece of paper in front of him.
I think you’ve misinterpreted the meaning of this assignment. Please speak with me regarding an extra-credit assignment to make up the difference in your grade. - T ❤ ☺ ❤ ☺ ❤
Yamapi sighed. “I really don’t have time for this,” he muttered.
“Eh? What was that?” The boy to Yamapi’s right paused in the midst of stuffing his notebooks into a messenger bag.
Clearing his throat, Yamapi slid the paper across the surface of the desk between them. “One of the TAs wants me to do an extra-credit project. Says I didn’t understand the point of the economic conversion model assignment.”
“Huh? It’s not even a bad grade…oh.” The other boy pointed at the initial and laughed. “Pi, there are three teaching assistants for this class. Of them, only one has a name that starts with the letter ‘T’. He’s just messing with you, man.”
“What,” Yamapi leaned over and stared at the note again, “I’m such an idiot!” He swung his head to the back of the lecture hall where the TAs habitually sat, watching over the students. One of them was already staring in his direction: Takizawa. Yamapi crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. The TA blew him a kiss. “Sometimes I really hate that we grew up with him.”
“He probably just wants to molest you again,” Yamapi’s classmate interrupted. “Tsubasa’s out of town for that conference, remember? Takki’s probably just lonely and remembering your glory days as teenagers together. Anyway, have fun at your next class. I’m meeting up with Yuu-kun for some delicious, delicious, Italian food.”
“I don’t like you,” Yamapi stated. “Why did you have to choose a business class for your elective? You’re a child development student, get the hell out of my class.”
“Lasagna,” the other boy intoned. “Calzones. Chicken alfredo. Pasta with marinara sauce. Tiramisu. I’ll take pictures for you.”
Yamapi’s tone was mild. “I hope you choke on it and die, Jin.”
Akanishi Jin, Yamapi’s best friend and one of his roommates, laughed in his face. “Go grab Shortie from his exile in the practice rooms and get to class. I’ll see you guys later.”
~~~~~~
Apparently “Shortie’s” joint songwriting project with “that fool Yasuda” was going well. Yamapi basked quietly in the cheerful atmosphere of his friend’s chatter, eyes closed, waiting while more students filtered into the classroom and the professor arranged her materials. “And I told him, straight out, that moving to the fifth is the standard and acceptable progression for the establishment of the cadence pattern, but he insists that going to the fourth will increase the ‘artistic tension’. As if anyone cares about artistic tension! It’s an advertising jingle for a fictional brand of marshmallow fluff. It doesn’t need artistic tension. And if we wanted artistic tension, the thing to do would be to throw in some counterpoint, add a suspension from the submedian, and build the chord linearly to make a unique musical statement.”
“Ryo-chan,” Yamapi yawned, “when you feel like coming down from Music Theory Land and conversing like a normal human being, I’ll be waiting for you.”
Ryo scowled at him fiercely but the amused glint in his eyes gave him away. Nishikido Ryo was the type of person who thrived on scorn and genuinely enjoyed both teasing and being nettled. “I need better friends. Kinder, gentler, more caring friends who are interested in what I have to say.”
“I’ll listen to you,” a cheerful tenor interrupted. “Ryo-chan always has such interesting things to say! Hi, Yamapi.”
“Hey, Kei-chan,” Yamapi replied as Ryo restarted his rambling litany.
“Koyama, you would not believe what I have to put up with during my songwriting assignments. I’m partnered with Yasuda, right, the guy who wears makeup all the time and is doubling in fashion design, and he’s convinced that the only way to successfully compose an advertisement…”
Koyama Keiichiro, Asian literature major, listened attentively to Ryo’s happy lament while he perched a chair nearby, murmuring sympathetically whenever the monologue demanded it and exchanging amused glances with Yamapi. They’d met two years before in a course about The Tale Of Genji, which Yamapi had signed up for with every intention of using to catch up on sleep between his other courses, the real ones meant for his major, not general education requirements. With Koyama’s bubbly conversation and enthusiasm for the subject, however, that class had become one of the most enjoyable experiences of Yamapi’s college career.
A thin shadow leaned over Yamapi’s desk. “Do you ever get tired of the sound of your own voice, Nishikido?”
Ryo broke off his tirade and smirked at the newcomer. “Not when the alternative is listening to you, oh great and mighty teaching assistant.”
“Matsumoto-senpai,” Koyama chimed in, “did you find the citation you were talking about the other day? The one about vitamin consistencies among peaches?”
Jun’s smile was wolfish but fond. “Indeed I did. I’ll prove my point about Momotarou to you someday soon.”
Koyama and Matsumoto Jun, a Master’s Degree candidate in nutrition, had an ongoing debate about the nature of dietary symbolism in children’s fables. As a teaching assistant, Jun was supposed to sit silently in the back of the room, ostensibly to watch for students not paying attention. When Yamapi, Ryo and Koyama chose to sit in the back and relax during their elective, they’d discovered that Jun was more than willing to let them mutter softly and would even occasionally chime in on their conversations, just for a break in the tedium. It was, after all, Jun’s third time TA-ing for the Basics of Nutrition class in two years.
(“In every other department in this university,” Jun had groused when Yamapi asked him about the repetition, “graduate students get rotated around to different courses so they can experience a variety of topics in their field. We, on the other hand, have opted for expertise in teaching a particular subject. I am an expert in recounting diseases caused by basic mineral deficiencies to little idiots who don’t care. And I am bored out of my mind. There are only so many five course dinners I can plan before I want to start serving human flesh.”
Ryo had adopted Jun as The Most Entertaining TA Ever from that moment on.)
~~~~~~
Koyama made Yamapi and Ryo linger in the classroom after the lecture finished. “I left my notes for a paper I’m working on in a friend’s dorm room last night. He’s bringing them by for me.”
Ryo raised an eyebrow. “Who do you know who still lives in the dorms?” On-campus housing was only guaranteed for two years and all upperclassmen were expected to find apartments near the school.
“A guy from my neighborhood. We grew up together, although he went to a private school. We’re used to studying together. He’s a sophomore this year. And no, Ryo-chan, you can’t steal his dining pass. I get all of his guest meals.”
Yamapi yawned. “Food is good. Free food is better.”
“In that case, don’t forget,” Jun called from where he’d been shooing freshmen out of the fourth row, “I’m running a review session in the basement conference room of the main library Thursday night at seven. Potluck dinner, bring something to share.”
Yamapi gave him a thumbs up. Jun offered the trio the nonchalant flick of the wrist that served as his version of a casual wave and strolled from the room.
“Potluck,” Koyama mused. “I wonder if I should make beef or chicken curry?”
“HIYA, KEI-CHAN!” Standing in the doorway waving was a short boy with large eyes and fashionably tousled brown hair, hand fluttering in the air enthusiastically.
“He was just over last night,” a low voice grumbled, “it’s not like you haven’t seen him in three years.”
Koyama grinned at the door. “Shige! Tego!”
Ryo bumped Koyama’s shoulder with his own. “Which one is yours? I claim the other.”
“They’re both mine,” Koyama said loftily. “They’re roommates.”
“You can’t eat two free meals at the same time,” Ryo protested.
The short boy bounced into the room and up to Koyama’s desk. “You’re eating lunch with us, right? I’d really appreciate it if you would look over my research proposal. You can, can’t you? I love it when you edit for me, Kei-chan!”
Following at a more sedate pace was a dark-haired boy who was almost as tall as Koyama. “Sorry about Tegoshi, Kei. I ran into him out on the quad by the art building after my chemistry class and he refused to meet us at the cafeteria. Kusano says hello, by the way.”
“I’m even bringing company,” Tegoshi chirped. “Massu, from my sculpting class. You’ll like him, Kei-chan, he’s fun! He needed to talk to the professor but he’ll wait for us outside the dining hall.”
“I miss the dining halls. So much food to choose from.” Yamapi’s comment came out in a sleepy drawl.
“You should come with us, too!” Tegoshi seemed unconcerned by the fact that he had never met Yamapi before.
Ryo squawked. “You’re going to claim a free meal and just leave me to starve? Some friend you are, Yamashita! I called it first!”
“You can come too,” Tegoshi offered, grinning sunnily at Ryo. “Massu is a junior but he bought the off-campus meal plan because his apartment is too far away to go back to all the time and he gets hungry a lot and goes in for snacks whenever he can, so he can check someone in, too. Hi, I’m Tegoshi Yuya!”
“Tegoshi, these people are seniors,” the tall boy hissed. “Why would they want to eat lousy dorm food?”
“Yamapi, Ryo-chan, this is Kato Shigeaki, the guy I was talking about.” Koyama said and poked Shige’s shoulder.
Shige sighed. “Nothing ever goes well for someone who is introduced with that phrase.”
“Your hair looks funny,” Ryo informed Shige.
“I’m hungry,” Yamapi informed Tegoshi.
“I think I’m getting a headache,” Shige told Koyama.
~~~~~~
Masuda Takahisa turned out to be cheerful and friendly, although somewhat shy. He was more than willing to spend one of his guest meals on Yamapi. “Food is better enjoyed with company than alone,” he smiled.
Yamapi felt the instant gratification of meeting a kindred spirit. “Do you think they have tiramisu for dessert today?”
Massu’s eyes grew round. “Ooh, that’s a great idea! I really hope so. And ice cream, too.”
“Coffee flavored! Coffee ice cream is delicious. And it would go really well with tiramisu, because that’s coffee flavored, too. And chocolate. Coffee and chocolate!”
Ryo and Shige were aghast. “You haven’t even had lunch yet,” Shige pointed out, while Ryo cringed at the thought of the sugar high and the inevitable crash that would follow.
“Dessert can be lunch,” Yamapi told Shige gravely. “It’s fuel to keep you going.”
“It’s important to eat what you like,” Massu added.
“Don’t ever let Princess Matsumoto hear you talking like that. I need more coffee if I’m going to have to deal with you people,” Ryo grumbled and marched off to claim a mug.
Koyama had swooped through the crowds like a vulture and tossed his bag on a table that was just being emptied. “Shige and I will stay here and guard our table. You guys go get food and we’ll get something when someone gets back.”
“I want the seat by the window,” Tegoshi’s wide eyes swept around the group. “May I sit there? Please?” No one bothered to contest him.
“Let me know what’s on the salad bar,” Shige instructed his roommate, who laughed and trotted off toward the rotisserie counter with Massu.
Yamapi glanced at Koyama and Shige. “I’ll go fetch Ryo-chan and get coffee for everyone.”
“Don’t let him fill his mug with espresso like he did the last time we had coffee after class,” Koyama advised. “Ryo-chan doesn’t get enough sleep and he has to be able to keep his fingers steady on his guitar while he practices. And we can add some sugar to his coffee. It never hurts to sweeten him up.”
“Yes, Mama Kei,” Yamapi pursed his lips and saluted.
~~~~~~
Shige, it turned out, was a legal studies major and couldn’t stay for very long because one of his courtroom procedural seminars was enacting a mock trial and had scheduled a rehearsal.
“Shige’s the judge,” Koyama stated proudly, as though being nominated for the role was akin to winning a competition. Yamapi watched with interest as Shige flushed pink even while his expression soured as if he’d bitten into a lemon.
“Nobody else wanted to do it,” he muttered. “It’s boring. You sit and try not to fall asleep while everybody else gets to research and plan and draw up arguments.”
Massu paused with a mouthful of potatoes poised just in front of his face. “As the judge, shouldn’t you not know what’s going on so you can decide the case?”
Shige shrugged. “The professor gets to decide whose case was more convincing. In the mock up, I’m pretty much a glorified secretary. I get to take notes on who says what and then let the professor know that, yes, we had meetings and, no, nobody’s slacking off.”
“Nobody except you,” Ryo raised an eyebrow.
Koyama beamed. “The professor really likes Shige. He was the only person to get full marks on the midterm exam.”
Yamapi and Massu grunted their appreciation while Ryo laughed. “A perfect score on a law exam? You must be the biggest nerd in the country. I bet you read contract bylaws before you go to sleep at night.”
“It’s usually historical precedent timelines,” Tegoshi put in.
“My point exactly. He’s a nerd!”
Shige glared. “What about Tegoshi? He shattered the curve on his psych prelim. Half of his class wanted to kill him.”
Tegoshi clucked his tongue. “They did not, Shige, they just needed to express the jealousy and frustration they felt due to their own shortcomings in discipline and study methodologies.”
“That still doesn’t explain why they felt the need to line the hallway outside our door with thumbtacks at three in the morning.”
“Ow,” Yamapi blinked. “How do you know it was at three in the morning?”
“Because I got back from the library at two and got up at four to finish writing a paper and stepped on one on my way to the common room to get water for my coffee pot.”
Massu tilted his head to the side, looking something like a confused teddy bear. “How do you know it wasn’t someone on your floor?”
Shige groaned while Tegoshi tittered. Koyama patted Shige’s hand comfortingly and explained, “It’s the same thing. Tegoshi chose specialized housing for the psychology department and pulled Shige in as his roommate. Their floormates are Tegoshi’s classmates.”
“I got the highest number in the housing lottery and got to pick first,” Tegoshi displayed two charming dimples.
“First, like, before anybody else?” Massu gaped. “Tegoshi is amazing!”
Yamapi blinked. “Isn’t the lottery supposed to start with the lowest number?”
“They decided to change it last year,” Tegoshi helped himself to a slice of cucumber from Ryo’s tray.
Shige sighed as he stood and grabbed his tray. “The thing about Tegoshi is that he doesn’t live in the real world. The real world lives around him.”
“I want the world to live around me,” Yamapi pouted. “I wanted tiramisu!”
Ryo made a face. “It wasn’t even listed on the dessert menu, Pi, give up on it already.” Yamapi sighed heavily and swirled his spoon around in his soup.
“They’ll bring some out in a little while,” Tegoshi reassured the others.
“Dammit, Tegoshi, I hate it when you state something improbable as fact. It’s creepy because it always works out,” Shige groused. “I’ll see you in a few hours. Make sure Kei doesn’t forget his outline again.”
“I won’t forget!”
Shige ducked his head in a brief nod. “It was nice meeting you all.”
“Goodbye, Kato-kun! Have a good trial meeting,” Yamapi and Massu called toward Shige’s retreating back.
Ryo took a sip from his cooling coffee, expression thoughtful. “You know, tiramisu would taste pretty good to me right now.” Even as he spoke, one of the doors behind the dessert display on the other side of the cafeteria swung open to reveal a rolling cart heavily laden with layered spongecake and powered chocolate.
Three heads turned to stare at Tegoshi, who hummed to himself as he drew pictures on a plate with soy sauce. Koyama shrugged and returned his attention to his stir fry.
Ryo grinned and threw his arm around Yamapi’s shoulders. “Pi, let’s kick Akanishi out of the house. We have a new best friend.”
~~~~~~
On Thursday morning, Yamapi awoke to discover that he was not alone in bed. “This is getting really old, Jin. I know you have your own room, I helped you move into it.”
“Whatever, you love waking up to me in all my drowsy glory,” Jin scratched at an elbow and peered at Yamapi’s laptop, which was resting on his chest as he reclined, sprawled across fully three-quarters of Yamapi’s bed.
Yamapi glared through bleary eyes. “I mean it. If you’re that cold we can get you a space heater.”
“Why waste the money? You’re enough of a furnace to heat Siberia.”
At seven in the morning, all Yamapi had the energy to do was sigh.
“Oh, you got an e-mail last night. Apparently there’s some big function for the freshmen and that fashion-pansy TA of yours had to reschedule the review session to Saturday for them. He says he’s still going to be there with a casserole tonight, though. I like casserole. We’re going tonight, right?”
Yamapi pulled his pillow over his head. “It’s a review session for the nutrition class, Jin, not a frat party. Besides, it’s on Saturday now.”
“Pi, do you really want to give up your Saturday to go over the ingredients in calcium supplements? There’s free dinner and we’re going.”
Hesitantly, Yamapi raised the pillow. “I do like free food.”
A knock sounded on Yamapi’s bedroom door. “Would you two stop loafing around and get up already? It’s Jin’s turn to make breakfast and I want waffles.”
“If you want waffles, go ahead and make waffles, Tiny,” Jin shouted, sticking his tongue out at the closed door. “I’m busying staying warm!”
“Pi, kick his ass out of bed already. Jin, I’m giving you ten minutes to have my waffles cooking. And if the coffee is already gone when I get out of the shower, someone is losing their life.”
“Cranky, cranky.” Jin pulled Yamapi’s comforter up to his chin and wriggled even more deeply into the mattress.
Yamapi yawned. “Go shower, Ryo-chan. We’re coming.”
“If you do, I don’t want to hear about it,” came the retort through the door.
Jin cackled. “Oh, Yamapi! Oh, oh, oh!”
With the speed of years of training and experience, Yamapi’s hand shot out and stroked along Jin’s collarbone. The ensuing shriek and the horrified flailing that took Jin-and Yamapi’s blanket-to the floor would inevitably be the single greatest source of amusement in Yamapi’s day.
~~~~~~
Jin had somehow magically scheduled all of his courses into the first three days of the week, meaning that he was free to lounge around the apartment in his boxers as he desired on Thursdays. Alternatively, it meant that he could spend his time finding new and inventive ways to pester his friends. Text messages seemed to be his latest passion.
rsvpd to girly ta that well b ther 2nite dont think he likes me the tall chaty guy will b ther 2 ps ur sis sez hi
Yamapi nearly banged his head down on his desk. I wish you would stop answering my emails.
♥!
His phone lit up again, displaying Ryo’s contact information. PI i swear to GOD i am going to BURN HIS PHONE
If you can wait until tonight I’ll help you flush it down a toilet.
Jin’s number: i no ur talkin about me w lttl1 give him my luv i think he blockd me agn c u at lbry 700
~~~~~~
To Yamapi’s surprise, he arrived at the library earlier than either Ryo or Jin. He wandered downstairs to wait for them in a hallway alcove by the designated review room. Even more surprising to him was that Jun wasn’t the only person standing outside the basement conference room while Maruyama, one of the library assistants, unlocked the door.
“Sometimes I think my roommate has the right idea and I should just moonlight as a beta tester for video games. It’s the only way to go in life.”
“Don’t be melodramatic,” Jun said as he nodded his thanks at Maruyama and flicked on the lights. Yamapi smiled in greeting as the cheerful librarian passed on his way to return to whatever-it-was that college librarians did.
“I’m serious,” the other man was shorter and more solidly built than Jun, but the pen tucked behind his ear and the pile of manila envelopes in his arms marked him immediately as another graduate student. “I’ve been grading for three hours. Do you realize how hard it is to not grade for grammar, paragraph structure, and syntax? Every dangling participle I see gives me a new headache, right between my eyes.”
Jun merely waved a travel mug under the other man’s nose. Apparently it was his version of rejuvenating smelling salts.
“Please tell me that that’s a very large, very warm, very accompanied-by-a-bagel, French Roast,” the shorter man said.
“You know, someday I’m going to stop feeling sorry for you and make you supply your own grading-stress food.” Jun clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “I would never feed you a bagel, you cretin. That many carbs are unhealthy all at once.”
“That’s cold, Matsumoto.” The other man grumbled as he followed Jun into the conference room. “Bagels are life-giving sustenance.”
Footsteps squeaked down the stairwell at the end of the hall. “Yo, Pi! I found the toddler.”
“You will die in your bed bereft and alone in your old age,” Ryo punched Jin’s shoulder. “We brought vegetable chips and sugar-free cookies to satisfy the demands of the nutrition gods.”
“Your offerings please the nutrition gods,” Jun called from inside the classroom. Yamapi chuckled as Ryo blinked, obviously not having expected the TA to be within earshot.
More footsteps clattered down the stairs and a tall figure darted between Ryo and Jin. “Matsujunmatsujunmatsujun! I brought the dish. Turned off the oven, too, just like you said!”
“Only because Oh-chan reminded you,” a reedy voice commented from the landing.
“I just didn’t think the light should be on,” another voice corrected.
Jun stepped out into the hallway. “Aiba, how many times do I have to tell you that it’s not safe to run with glass dishware in your hands? And what are you two doing here?”
“Nino came over to play Mario with me,” Aiba slowed to more sedate pace.
“And Oh-chan came over to get the crayons Aiba confiscated from his itty bitty students this week,” the owner of the reedy voice was somewhat thin and reedy, himself.
“They’re not itty bitty, Nino-chan, they’re between seven and ten years old!”
The third person shuffled down the stairs in Nino’s wake. “Itty bitty means itty bitty.”
Jun rolled his eyes and motioned everyone forward, into the conference room. Yamapi caught sight of the other grad student hunched miserably over his stack of folders at the end a table.
“Aiba is my roommate,” Jun informed his students as he unwrapped the foil from the top of the casserole dish. “I asked him to bring over the casserole so I could leave it in the oven and not worry about it getting cold and needing to be reheated. Sakurai Sho over there shares my carrel in the library and he’s here because I can’t trust him to feed himself. Ohno is here because Nino’s here. You can’t separate them with a crowbar. Nino is here because he’s a cheap, sleazy mooch who hates paying for food and would rather make me pay for it, instead.”
Nino crooned. “Aw, baby, you say the sweetest things.”
At Yamapi’s elbow, Ryo snickered. “So basically they’re like Pi and his fatass roommate.”
“I’m not a fatass, shrimp-boy,” Jin retorted. “You’re just small everywhere. It’s okay, I know you’re jealous. Besides, you’re his roommate, too! Maybe you’re the fatass!”
“I hope there’s lots of rice,” Yamapi mumbled. “I want extra rice.”
At his table, Sho brightened. Jun quirked an amused glance at him. “Don’t worry, there will be. The rice cooker is the one kitchen appliance Sakurai can use without lighting the house on fire. He’s inordinately proud of his few talents so I brought one along.”
Sho wilted. “You’re mean, Matsujun.”
“Drink your coffee and do your grading.”
“Are you old geezers even allowed on school property?” Ryo wanted to know, eyeing Nino’s vintage handheld.
“Must be, because Sho-chan over there is ancient and he’s allowed in.”
Ohno drifted by the table, munching on a cookie. “Nino thinks Sho-chan was born at age fifty.”
Sho crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at them all. “Remind me again why I agreed to live with you, Ninomiya?”
“Because you love me and can’t resist my charms, of course.”
A sharp rap on the door broke the cycle of insults. “Knock knock, I brought people along for a multi-subject study session!”
“We were already sitting comfortably upstairs, I don’t see why we had to come all the way down here.” Yamapi could hear Shige’s grumble from out in the hall.
Koyama came in, loaded down with fabric shopping bags from the nearest supermarket. “I’ve got produce!”
Tegoshi trailed in after him, counting things off on his fingers. “Grapes, bananas, blueberries, strawberries, carrot sticks, celery sticks…”
“Fresh broccoli, too! Remember to leave some of the grapes and berries aside so we can sketch them for our still-life project.” Massu had apparently been sitting with Tegoshi and Shige when Koyama herded them all downstairs. “Oh! Professor!”
Several people made noises of confusion and surprise. Ohno just smiled beatifically. “Hello, Masuda and Tegoshi.”
Jun clapped his hand to his forehead. “I completely forgot that you were teaching that sculpting class here.”
Ohno shrugged. “Most of my time has been devoted to my doctoral exhibition. Sometimes I forget that I’m teaching, too.”
Massu beamed. “We’re going to make concept sketches before trying to sculpt, just like you suggested. Well…I’m going to sketch. Tegoshi is going to…do something else.”
“Tegoshi-san’s sketches are always interesting,” Ohno said mildly, as Tegoshi laughed.
“Ooh, ooh!” Aiba executed a little bouncing jump. “Oh-chan, teach me to sculpt, too! Teach me to sculpt!”
“Absolutely not, no way,” Nino, Sho and Jun protested, “You are not getting your hands on sharp sculpting tools!”
Aiba pouted a little, then declared that he could draw, anyway. He stole one of the folders Sho had emptied and an extra pen lying on the table, evidently perfectly content to sit and amuse himself with making cartoonish sketches.
“I’ve got paper plates and plastic utensils,” Shige started handing out disposable dishware. Yamapi smiled at him and snatched two paper cups to decorate.
Jun sighed. “Apparently we’re not going to study at all.”
“What, nutrition?” Jin was already halfway through a large piece of bean casserole. “I’m studying nutrition right now. Hands-on learning.”
“Let me guess, you’re the one who answered my e-mail to Yamashita’s address?” Jun pursed his lips. “I’m almost sorry I said it was fine to bring friends along.”
Jun’s comment reminded Yamapi that he should probably apologize for leaving his computer signed into his e-mail client. Maybe later, when there were fewer pointy things around. He grabbed a plate and loaded it with casserole and veggies, picking a seat at the table already occupied by Sho and Aiba.
Koyama had snatched a handful of beet and taro crisps and wandered over to stand by Sho’s paper buttresses. “Hi, Sakurai-senpai, do you remember me? I took your class in the structures of international commerce last year.”
Sho peered at him. “…Koyama, right? You wrote the paper about promoting translations of Souseki’s ‘Kokoro’ and ‘I Am A Cat’?”
Koyama grinned. “Yes!”
“I feel no ethical remorse in telling you that your paper was one of the best-written, most coherent arguments I’ve ever graded. Thinking about it now gives me feelings of warmth and hope for the human race.”
“Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it! It was very fun to write. Souseki is my friend’s favorite author, it was actually his suggestion. Oh, I need to go get some fruit before Ryo-chan takes it all. Nice to see you, senpai!” Koyama scuttled through the crush of bodies by the food, immediately striking up a conversation with Tegoshi.
Aiba paused to admire the smiling, sunglasses-wearing flower he’d drawn. He handed it to Sho with a flourish. “Are essays really that bad to grade?”
“Sometimes I wish I could send them all back to grade school grammar classes,” Sho glowered. If the future of the world rested upon the ability of his undergraduate students to communicate properly, Sho hoped fate would be merciful and give him a heart attack at a young age. “I’ve gone over this chapter three times but I don’t think a single student in this class knows how to define ‘requisition’ or ‘primage’.”
“A formal request in written form and a percentage of a shipping fee commonly given to a ship’s captain for special attention to particular freight.” Shige placed lowered himself into the seat next to Yamapi.
Sho almost dropped his coffee. “You…you get an A.”
Shige ducked his head. “That would be really helpful if I were in your class.”
Having come by to deliver a plate containing a nutritionally balanced meal to Sho, Jun made a suspiciously derisive noise. “Of course,” Sho groaned. “None of the capable ones belong to me.” To Jun, he muttered, “You get mocking privileges only because you bring me coffee. Everyone else dies.”
“Are all graduate students so violently minded?” Yamapi wanted to know. Ryo would probably make a good graduate student. He already matched well with Jun’s level of snarkiness and apparently that was a requirement for higher degrees.
From across the table, Aiba stole a piece of celery. “Don’t worry, Oh-chan’s not. He’s really calm and helpful and cheerful and friendly. Actually, Sho and Jun are friendly, too. And cheerful! Maybe not calm. But definitely friendly!”
Shige smiled. “I’m a friend of Koyama’s. I’m a sophomore in the law track and I have an open slot for an elective next semester. He suggested I try something in the economics department, like the international publishing class.”
“Unfortunately, the class I’m giving next semester is already full,” Sho was already dreading the next round of grammarless assignments.
“I know, I saw that in the registration website. Could you recommend something similar? Do you know of anything else that’s being offered about international economic policy?”
Sho blinked. “This…is for an elective?”
“Yes.”
Sho twisted around to exchange incredulous glances with Jun. “You’re going to be a junior and you want to take an upper level economics course in your free time?”
One corner of Shige’s mouth quirked up. “My friends would tell you I’m a bit of a nerd,” he confessed, “and I’m thinking about looking into international business law.”
“I’m a business major,” Yamapi offered. “I could help you if you want to look into business classes.”
Shige smiled wanly. “I’m not sure I want to commit to the business track just yet. I kind of want to test the waters with economics first.”
“Fair enough,” Yamapi shrugged. He looked at his empty plate for a moment. “I think I need more casserole.”
“You need cookies! Multiple cookies. Make two stacks so I can have some, too.” Having placed his order, Aiba returned to drawing lopsided kangaroos with overly large teeth.
Heading back to refill his plate brought Yamapi past a lively discussion between Nino and Ryo, apparently about the mechanics of various incarnations of handheld game systems. Nino seemed to be largely in favor of games with complex, percussive keystroke combinations. Having been at the wrong end of Ryo’s devoted passion to the “elegance and fluidity of directional balance in Katamari Damacy” a few too many times, Yamapi decided to avoid entering that conversation.
A few steps past Nino and Ryo, Tegoshi was persuading Jin that Massu had agreed to participate in a psychoanalytics research project and wouldn’t it be fun if Jin volunteered to take part too? From the haughty expression and almost glazed eyes, Yamapi deduced that Jin would fold and agree to be a guinea pig within five minutes. He leaned down to mutter into Tegoshi’s ear, “I’ll treat you to dinner if you hypnotize him into thinking he’s a monkey.”
Tegoshi laughed. “That’s silly, Yamapi. How would you tell the difference?”
Massu was hovering over a pyramid of fruit, fussing over the arrangement of the green versus the red grapes. “The shape is bothering me,” he confessed to Koyama and Ohno. “The red ones look sort of like berries when they fall off the stem. Won’t that get confusing?”
Ohno picked up a fallen grape and popped it into his mouth. “It only matters if it matters to you. The clay is all grey when you’re working with it, anyway. It’s up to you how you paint it later on, to show which are grapes and which are berries.”
“I never realized how intricate an artistic set up could be,” Koyama marveled. “With so many small fruits it can really get complicated. If something rolls the wrong way everything could fall down!”
“At least cleaning up for a fruit still-life is fun and tasty,” Ohno ate another grape that had wobbled away from Massu’s arrangement.
Yamapi looked down at his plate and considered his second helping of dinner. No, he decided, he’d much rather eat his food right away than have to stare at it from a distance.
Jun came up and selected some fruit of his own. “Not much studying getting done for the nutrition final, but at least everyone is eating properly and getting something done. Well, except for Nishikido, but as long as Ninomiya is out of my hair I’m willing to forgive that.”
Yamapi lifted one shoulder and dropped it in a noncommittal shrug. “Free food. It works for me,” he said.
Pairing/Group: Yamapi-centric, featuring NEWS and Arashi and a few cameo appearances.
Rating: G
Warnings: This is AU!
Notes: tinyangl , I truly hope you enjoy this! I had a lot of fun writing it. Thank you for such a fun and flexible request! Merry holidays. <3
Summary: Glimpses of daily life during a couple of days in Yamapi’s senior year of college.
As class rounded up and the students began gathering their things, Yamapi stared mournfully at the piece of paper in front of him.
I think you’ve misinterpreted the meaning of this assignment. Please speak with me regarding an extra-credit assignment to make up the difference in your grade. - T ❤ ☺ ❤ ☺ ❤
Yamapi sighed. “I really don’t have time for this,” he muttered.
“Eh? What was that?” The boy to Yamapi’s right paused in the midst of stuffing his notebooks into a messenger bag.
Clearing his throat, Yamapi slid the paper across the surface of the desk between them. “One of the TAs wants me to do an extra-credit project. Says I didn’t understand the point of the economic conversion model assignment.”
“Huh? It’s not even a bad grade…oh.” The other boy pointed at the initial and laughed. “Pi, there are three teaching assistants for this class. Of them, only one has a name that starts with the letter ‘T’. He’s just messing with you, man.”
“What,” Yamapi leaned over and stared at the note again, “I’m such an idiot!” He swung his head to the back of the lecture hall where the TAs habitually sat, watching over the students. One of them was already staring in his direction: Takizawa. Yamapi crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. The TA blew him a kiss. “Sometimes I really hate that we grew up with him.”
“He probably just wants to molest you again,” Yamapi’s classmate interrupted. “Tsubasa’s out of town for that conference, remember? Takki’s probably just lonely and remembering your glory days as teenagers together. Anyway, have fun at your next class. I’m meeting up with Yuu-kun for some delicious, delicious, Italian food.”
“I don’t like you,” Yamapi stated. “Why did you have to choose a business class for your elective? You’re a child development student, get the hell out of my class.”
“Lasagna,” the other boy intoned. “Calzones. Chicken alfredo. Pasta with marinara sauce. Tiramisu. I’ll take pictures for you.”
Yamapi’s tone was mild. “I hope you choke on it and die, Jin.”
Akanishi Jin, Yamapi’s best friend and one of his roommates, laughed in his face. “Go grab Shortie from his exile in the practice rooms and get to class. I’ll see you guys later.”
~~~~~~
Apparently “Shortie’s” joint songwriting project with “that fool Yasuda” was going well. Yamapi basked quietly in the cheerful atmosphere of his friend’s chatter, eyes closed, waiting while more students filtered into the classroom and the professor arranged her materials. “And I told him, straight out, that moving to the fifth is the standard and acceptable progression for the establishment of the cadence pattern, but he insists that going to the fourth will increase the ‘artistic tension’. As if anyone cares about artistic tension! It’s an advertising jingle for a fictional brand of marshmallow fluff. It doesn’t need artistic tension. And if we wanted artistic tension, the thing to do would be to throw in some counterpoint, add a suspension from the submedian, and build the chord linearly to make a unique musical statement.”
“Ryo-chan,” Yamapi yawned, “when you feel like coming down from Music Theory Land and conversing like a normal human being, I’ll be waiting for you.”
Ryo scowled at him fiercely but the amused glint in his eyes gave him away. Nishikido Ryo was the type of person who thrived on scorn and genuinely enjoyed both teasing and being nettled. “I need better friends. Kinder, gentler, more caring friends who are interested in what I have to say.”
“I’ll listen to you,” a cheerful tenor interrupted. “Ryo-chan always has such interesting things to say! Hi, Yamapi.”
“Hey, Kei-chan,” Yamapi replied as Ryo restarted his rambling litany.
“Koyama, you would not believe what I have to put up with during my songwriting assignments. I’m partnered with Yasuda, right, the guy who wears makeup all the time and is doubling in fashion design, and he’s convinced that the only way to successfully compose an advertisement…”
Koyama Keiichiro, Asian literature major, listened attentively to Ryo’s happy lament while he perched a chair nearby, murmuring sympathetically whenever the monologue demanded it and exchanging amused glances with Yamapi. They’d met two years before in a course about The Tale Of Genji, which Yamapi had signed up for with every intention of using to catch up on sleep between his other courses, the real ones meant for his major, not general education requirements. With Koyama’s bubbly conversation and enthusiasm for the subject, however, that class had become one of the most enjoyable experiences of Yamapi’s college career.
A thin shadow leaned over Yamapi’s desk. “Do you ever get tired of the sound of your own voice, Nishikido?”
Ryo broke off his tirade and smirked at the newcomer. “Not when the alternative is listening to you, oh great and mighty teaching assistant.”
“Matsumoto-senpai,” Koyama chimed in, “did you find the citation you were talking about the other day? The one about vitamin consistencies among peaches?”
Jun’s smile was wolfish but fond. “Indeed I did. I’ll prove my point about Momotarou to you someday soon.”
Koyama and Matsumoto Jun, a Master’s Degree candidate in nutrition, had an ongoing debate about the nature of dietary symbolism in children’s fables. As a teaching assistant, Jun was supposed to sit silently in the back of the room, ostensibly to watch for students not paying attention. When Yamapi, Ryo and Koyama chose to sit in the back and relax during their elective, they’d discovered that Jun was more than willing to let them mutter softly and would even occasionally chime in on their conversations, just for a break in the tedium. It was, after all, Jun’s third time TA-ing for the Basics of Nutrition class in two years.
(“In every other department in this university,” Jun had groused when Yamapi asked him about the repetition, “graduate students get rotated around to different courses so they can experience a variety of topics in their field. We, on the other hand, have opted for expertise in teaching a particular subject. I am an expert in recounting diseases caused by basic mineral deficiencies to little idiots who don’t care. And I am bored out of my mind. There are only so many five course dinners I can plan before I want to start serving human flesh.”
Ryo had adopted Jun as The Most Entertaining TA Ever from that moment on.)
~~~~~~
Koyama made Yamapi and Ryo linger in the classroom after the lecture finished. “I left my notes for a paper I’m working on in a friend’s dorm room last night. He’s bringing them by for me.”
Ryo raised an eyebrow. “Who do you know who still lives in the dorms?” On-campus housing was only guaranteed for two years and all upperclassmen were expected to find apartments near the school.
“A guy from my neighborhood. We grew up together, although he went to a private school. We’re used to studying together. He’s a sophomore this year. And no, Ryo-chan, you can’t steal his dining pass. I get all of his guest meals.”
Yamapi yawned. “Food is good. Free food is better.”
“In that case, don’t forget,” Jun called from where he’d been shooing freshmen out of the fourth row, “I’m running a review session in the basement conference room of the main library Thursday night at seven. Potluck dinner, bring something to share.”
Yamapi gave him a thumbs up. Jun offered the trio the nonchalant flick of the wrist that served as his version of a casual wave and strolled from the room.
“Potluck,” Koyama mused. “I wonder if I should make beef or chicken curry?”
“HIYA, KEI-CHAN!” Standing in the doorway waving was a short boy with large eyes and fashionably tousled brown hair, hand fluttering in the air enthusiastically.
“He was just over last night,” a low voice grumbled, “it’s not like you haven’t seen him in three years.”
Koyama grinned at the door. “Shige! Tego!”
Ryo bumped Koyama’s shoulder with his own. “Which one is yours? I claim the other.”
“They’re both mine,” Koyama said loftily. “They’re roommates.”
“You can’t eat two free meals at the same time,” Ryo protested.
The short boy bounced into the room and up to Koyama’s desk. “You’re eating lunch with us, right? I’d really appreciate it if you would look over my research proposal. You can, can’t you? I love it when you edit for me, Kei-chan!”
Following at a more sedate pace was a dark-haired boy who was almost as tall as Koyama. “Sorry about Tegoshi, Kei. I ran into him out on the quad by the art building after my chemistry class and he refused to meet us at the cafeteria. Kusano says hello, by the way.”
“I’m even bringing company,” Tegoshi chirped. “Massu, from my sculpting class. You’ll like him, Kei-chan, he’s fun! He needed to talk to the professor but he’ll wait for us outside the dining hall.”
“I miss the dining halls. So much food to choose from.” Yamapi’s comment came out in a sleepy drawl.
“You should come with us, too!” Tegoshi seemed unconcerned by the fact that he had never met Yamapi before.
Ryo squawked. “You’re going to claim a free meal and just leave me to starve? Some friend you are, Yamashita! I called it first!”
“You can come too,” Tegoshi offered, grinning sunnily at Ryo. “Massu is a junior but he bought the off-campus meal plan because his apartment is too far away to go back to all the time and he gets hungry a lot and goes in for snacks whenever he can, so he can check someone in, too. Hi, I’m Tegoshi Yuya!”
“Tegoshi, these people are seniors,” the tall boy hissed. “Why would they want to eat lousy dorm food?”
“Yamapi, Ryo-chan, this is Kato Shigeaki, the guy I was talking about.” Koyama said and poked Shige’s shoulder.
Shige sighed. “Nothing ever goes well for someone who is introduced with that phrase.”
“Your hair looks funny,” Ryo informed Shige.
“I’m hungry,” Yamapi informed Tegoshi.
“I think I’m getting a headache,” Shige told Koyama.
~~~~~~
Masuda Takahisa turned out to be cheerful and friendly, although somewhat shy. He was more than willing to spend one of his guest meals on Yamapi. “Food is better enjoyed with company than alone,” he smiled.
Yamapi felt the instant gratification of meeting a kindred spirit. “Do you think they have tiramisu for dessert today?”
Massu’s eyes grew round. “Ooh, that’s a great idea! I really hope so. And ice cream, too.”
“Coffee flavored! Coffee ice cream is delicious. And it would go really well with tiramisu, because that’s coffee flavored, too. And chocolate. Coffee and chocolate!”
Ryo and Shige were aghast. “You haven’t even had lunch yet,” Shige pointed out, while Ryo cringed at the thought of the sugar high and the inevitable crash that would follow.
“Dessert can be lunch,” Yamapi told Shige gravely. “It’s fuel to keep you going.”
“It’s important to eat what you like,” Massu added.
“Don’t ever let Princess Matsumoto hear you talking like that. I need more coffee if I’m going to have to deal with you people,” Ryo grumbled and marched off to claim a mug.
Koyama had swooped through the crowds like a vulture and tossed his bag on a table that was just being emptied. “Shige and I will stay here and guard our table. You guys go get food and we’ll get something when someone gets back.”
“I want the seat by the window,” Tegoshi’s wide eyes swept around the group. “May I sit there? Please?” No one bothered to contest him.
“Let me know what’s on the salad bar,” Shige instructed his roommate, who laughed and trotted off toward the rotisserie counter with Massu.
Yamapi glanced at Koyama and Shige. “I’ll go fetch Ryo-chan and get coffee for everyone.”
“Don’t let him fill his mug with espresso like he did the last time we had coffee after class,” Koyama advised. “Ryo-chan doesn’t get enough sleep and he has to be able to keep his fingers steady on his guitar while he practices. And we can add some sugar to his coffee. It never hurts to sweeten him up.”
“Yes, Mama Kei,” Yamapi pursed his lips and saluted.
~~~~~~
Shige, it turned out, was a legal studies major and couldn’t stay for very long because one of his courtroom procedural seminars was enacting a mock trial and had scheduled a rehearsal.
“Shige’s the judge,” Koyama stated proudly, as though being nominated for the role was akin to winning a competition. Yamapi watched with interest as Shige flushed pink even while his expression soured as if he’d bitten into a lemon.
“Nobody else wanted to do it,” he muttered. “It’s boring. You sit and try not to fall asleep while everybody else gets to research and plan and draw up arguments.”
Massu paused with a mouthful of potatoes poised just in front of his face. “As the judge, shouldn’t you not know what’s going on so you can decide the case?”
Shige shrugged. “The professor gets to decide whose case was more convincing. In the mock up, I’m pretty much a glorified secretary. I get to take notes on who says what and then let the professor know that, yes, we had meetings and, no, nobody’s slacking off.”
“Nobody except you,” Ryo raised an eyebrow.
Koyama beamed. “The professor really likes Shige. He was the only person to get full marks on the midterm exam.”
Yamapi and Massu grunted their appreciation while Ryo laughed. “A perfect score on a law exam? You must be the biggest nerd in the country. I bet you read contract bylaws before you go to sleep at night.”
“It’s usually historical precedent timelines,” Tegoshi put in.
“My point exactly. He’s a nerd!”
Shige glared. “What about Tegoshi? He shattered the curve on his psych prelim. Half of his class wanted to kill him.”
Tegoshi clucked his tongue. “They did not, Shige, they just needed to express the jealousy and frustration they felt due to their own shortcomings in discipline and study methodologies.”
“That still doesn’t explain why they felt the need to line the hallway outside our door with thumbtacks at three in the morning.”
“Ow,” Yamapi blinked. “How do you know it was at three in the morning?”
“Because I got back from the library at two and got up at four to finish writing a paper and stepped on one on my way to the common room to get water for my coffee pot.”
Massu tilted his head to the side, looking something like a confused teddy bear. “How do you know it wasn’t someone on your floor?”
Shige groaned while Tegoshi tittered. Koyama patted Shige’s hand comfortingly and explained, “It’s the same thing. Tegoshi chose specialized housing for the psychology department and pulled Shige in as his roommate. Their floormates are Tegoshi’s classmates.”
“I got the highest number in the housing lottery and got to pick first,” Tegoshi displayed two charming dimples.
“First, like, before anybody else?” Massu gaped. “Tegoshi is amazing!”
Yamapi blinked. “Isn’t the lottery supposed to start with the lowest number?”
“They decided to change it last year,” Tegoshi helped himself to a slice of cucumber from Ryo’s tray.
Shige sighed as he stood and grabbed his tray. “The thing about Tegoshi is that he doesn’t live in the real world. The real world lives around him.”
“I want the world to live around me,” Yamapi pouted. “I wanted tiramisu!”
Ryo made a face. “It wasn’t even listed on the dessert menu, Pi, give up on it already.” Yamapi sighed heavily and swirled his spoon around in his soup.
“They’ll bring some out in a little while,” Tegoshi reassured the others.
“Dammit, Tegoshi, I hate it when you state something improbable as fact. It’s creepy because it always works out,” Shige groused. “I’ll see you in a few hours. Make sure Kei doesn’t forget his outline again.”
“I won’t forget!”
Shige ducked his head in a brief nod. “It was nice meeting you all.”
“Goodbye, Kato-kun! Have a good trial meeting,” Yamapi and Massu called toward Shige’s retreating back.
Ryo took a sip from his cooling coffee, expression thoughtful. “You know, tiramisu would taste pretty good to me right now.” Even as he spoke, one of the doors behind the dessert display on the other side of the cafeteria swung open to reveal a rolling cart heavily laden with layered spongecake and powered chocolate.
Three heads turned to stare at Tegoshi, who hummed to himself as he drew pictures on a plate with soy sauce. Koyama shrugged and returned his attention to his stir fry.
Ryo grinned and threw his arm around Yamapi’s shoulders. “Pi, let’s kick Akanishi out of the house. We have a new best friend.”
~~~~~~
On Thursday morning, Yamapi awoke to discover that he was not alone in bed. “This is getting really old, Jin. I know you have your own room, I helped you move into it.”
“Whatever, you love waking up to me in all my drowsy glory,” Jin scratched at an elbow and peered at Yamapi’s laptop, which was resting on his chest as he reclined, sprawled across fully three-quarters of Yamapi’s bed.
Yamapi glared through bleary eyes. “I mean it. If you’re that cold we can get you a space heater.”
“Why waste the money? You’re enough of a furnace to heat Siberia.”
At seven in the morning, all Yamapi had the energy to do was sigh.
“Oh, you got an e-mail last night. Apparently there’s some big function for the freshmen and that fashion-pansy TA of yours had to reschedule the review session to Saturday for them. He says he’s still going to be there with a casserole tonight, though. I like casserole. We’re going tonight, right?”
Yamapi pulled his pillow over his head. “It’s a review session for the nutrition class, Jin, not a frat party. Besides, it’s on Saturday now.”
“Pi, do you really want to give up your Saturday to go over the ingredients in calcium supplements? There’s free dinner and we’re going.”
Hesitantly, Yamapi raised the pillow. “I do like free food.”
A knock sounded on Yamapi’s bedroom door. “Would you two stop loafing around and get up already? It’s Jin’s turn to make breakfast and I want waffles.”
“If you want waffles, go ahead and make waffles, Tiny,” Jin shouted, sticking his tongue out at the closed door. “I’m busying staying warm!”
“Pi, kick his ass out of bed already. Jin, I’m giving you ten minutes to have my waffles cooking. And if the coffee is already gone when I get out of the shower, someone is losing their life.”
“Cranky, cranky.” Jin pulled Yamapi’s comforter up to his chin and wriggled even more deeply into the mattress.
Yamapi yawned. “Go shower, Ryo-chan. We’re coming.”
“If you do, I don’t want to hear about it,” came the retort through the door.
Jin cackled. “Oh, Yamapi! Oh, oh, oh!”
With the speed of years of training and experience, Yamapi’s hand shot out and stroked along Jin’s collarbone. The ensuing shriek and the horrified flailing that took Jin-and Yamapi’s blanket-to the floor would inevitably be the single greatest source of amusement in Yamapi’s day.
~~~~~~
Jin had somehow magically scheduled all of his courses into the first three days of the week, meaning that he was free to lounge around the apartment in his boxers as he desired on Thursdays. Alternatively, it meant that he could spend his time finding new and inventive ways to pester his friends. Text messages seemed to be his latest passion.
rsvpd to girly ta that well b ther 2nite dont think he likes me the tall chaty guy will b ther 2 ps ur sis sez hi
Yamapi nearly banged his head down on his desk. I wish you would stop answering my emails.
♥!
His phone lit up again, displaying Ryo’s contact information. PI i swear to GOD i am going to BURN HIS PHONE
If you can wait until tonight I’ll help you flush it down a toilet.
Jin’s number: i no ur talkin about me w lttl1 give him my luv i think he blockd me agn c u at lbry 700
~~~~~~
To Yamapi’s surprise, he arrived at the library earlier than either Ryo or Jin. He wandered downstairs to wait for them in a hallway alcove by the designated review room. Even more surprising to him was that Jun wasn’t the only person standing outside the basement conference room while Maruyama, one of the library assistants, unlocked the door.
“Sometimes I think my roommate has the right idea and I should just moonlight as a beta tester for video games. It’s the only way to go in life.”
“Don’t be melodramatic,” Jun said as he nodded his thanks at Maruyama and flicked on the lights. Yamapi smiled in greeting as the cheerful librarian passed on his way to return to whatever-it-was that college librarians did.
“I’m serious,” the other man was shorter and more solidly built than Jun, but the pen tucked behind his ear and the pile of manila envelopes in his arms marked him immediately as another graduate student. “I’ve been grading for three hours. Do you realize how hard it is to not grade for grammar, paragraph structure, and syntax? Every dangling participle I see gives me a new headache, right between my eyes.”
Jun merely waved a travel mug under the other man’s nose. Apparently it was his version of rejuvenating smelling salts.
“Please tell me that that’s a very large, very warm, very accompanied-by-a-bagel, French Roast,” the shorter man said.
“You know, someday I’m going to stop feeling sorry for you and make you supply your own grading-stress food.” Jun clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “I would never feed you a bagel, you cretin. That many carbs are unhealthy all at once.”
“That’s cold, Matsumoto.” The other man grumbled as he followed Jun into the conference room. “Bagels are life-giving sustenance.”
Footsteps squeaked down the stairwell at the end of the hall. “Yo, Pi! I found the toddler.”
“You will die in your bed bereft and alone in your old age,” Ryo punched Jin’s shoulder. “We brought vegetable chips and sugar-free cookies to satisfy the demands of the nutrition gods.”
“Your offerings please the nutrition gods,” Jun called from inside the classroom. Yamapi chuckled as Ryo blinked, obviously not having expected the TA to be within earshot.
More footsteps clattered down the stairs and a tall figure darted between Ryo and Jin. “Matsujunmatsujunmatsujun! I brought the dish. Turned off the oven, too, just like you said!”
“Only because Oh-chan reminded you,” a reedy voice commented from the landing.
“I just didn’t think the light should be on,” another voice corrected.
Jun stepped out into the hallway. “Aiba, how many times do I have to tell you that it’s not safe to run with glass dishware in your hands? And what are you two doing here?”
“Nino came over to play Mario with me,” Aiba slowed to more sedate pace.
“And Oh-chan came over to get the crayons Aiba confiscated from his itty bitty students this week,” the owner of the reedy voice was somewhat thin and reedy, himself.
“They’re not itty bitty, Nino-chan, they’re between seven and ten years old!”
The third person shuffled down the stairs in Nino’s wake. “Itty bitty means itty bitty.”
Jun rolled his eyes and motioned everyone forward, into the conference room. Yamapi caught sight of the other grad student hunched miserably over his stack of folders at the end a table.
“Aiba is my roommate,” Jun informed his students as he unwrapped the foil from the top of the casserole dish. “I asked him to bring over the casserole so I could leave it in the oven and not worry about it getting cold and needing to be reheated. Sakurai Sho over there shares my carrel in the library and he’s here because I can’t trust him to feed himself. Ohno is here because Nino’s here. You can’t separate them with a crowbar. Nino is here because he’s a cheap, sleazy mooch who hates paying for food and would rather make me pay for it, instead.”
Nino crooned. “Aw, baby, you say the sweetest things.”
At Yamapi’s elbow, Ryo snickered. “So basically they’re like Pi and his fatass roommate.”
“I’m not a fatass, shrimp-boy,” Jin retorted. “You’re just small everywhere. It’s okay, I know you’re jealous. Besides, you’re his roommate, too! Maybe you’re the fatass!”
“I hope there’s lots of rice,” Yamapi mumbled. “I want extra rice.”
At his table, Sho brightened. Jun quirked an amused glance at him. “Don’t worry, there will be. The rice cooker is the one kitchen appliance Sakurai can use without lighting the house on fire. He’s inordinately proud of his few talents so I brought one along.”
Sho wilted. “You’re mean, Matsujun.”
“Drink your coffee and do your grading.”
“Are you old geezers even allowed on school property?” Ryo wanted to know, eyeing Nino’s vintage handheld.
“Must be, because Sho-chan over there is ancient and he’s allowed in.”
Ohno drifted by the table, munching on a cookie. “Nino thinks Sho-chan was born at age fifty.”
Sho crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at them all. “Remind me again why I agreed to live with you, Ninomiya?”
“Because you love me and can’t resist my charms, of course.”
A sharp rap on the door broke the cycle of insults. “Knock knock, I brought people along for a multi-subject study session!”
“We were already sitting comfortably upstairs, I don’t see why we had to come all the way down here.” Yamapi could hear Shige’s grumble from out in the hall.
Koyama came in, loaded down with fabric shopping bags from the nearest supermarket. “I’ve got produce!”
Tegoshi trailed in after him, counting things off on his fingers. “Grapes, bananas, blueberries, strawberries, carrot sticks, celery sticks…”
“Fresh broccoli, too! Remember to leave some of the grapes and berries aside so we can sketch them for our still-life project.” Massu had apparently been sitting with Tegoshi and Shige when Koyama herded them all downstairs. “Oh! Professor!”
Several people made noises of confusion and surprise. Ohno just smiled beatifically. “Hello, Masuda and Tegoshi.”
Jun clapped his hand to his forehead. “I completely forgot that you were teaching that sculpting class here.”
Ohno shrugged. “Most of my time has been devoted to my doctoral exhibition. Sometimes I forget that I’m teaching, too.”
Massu beamed. “We’re going to make concept sketches before trying to sculpt, just like you suggested. Well…I’m going to sketch. Tegoshi is going to…do something else.”
“Tegoshi-san’s sketches are always interesting,” Ohno said mildly, as Tegoshi laughed.
“Ooh, ooh!” Aiba executed a little bouncing jump. “Oh-chan, teach me to sculpt, too! Teach me to sculpt!”
“Absolutely not, no way,” Nino, Sho and Jun protested, “You are not getting your hands on sharp sculpting tools!”
Aiba pouted a little, then declared that he could draw, anyway. He stole one of the folders Sho had emptied and an extra pen lying on the table, evidently perfectly content to sit and amuse himself with making cartoonish sketches.
“I’ve got paper plates and plastic utensils,” Shige started handing out disposable dishware. Yamapi smiled at him and snatched two paper cups to decorate.
Jun sighed. “Apparently we’re not going to study at all.”
“What, nutrition?” Jin was already halfway through a large piece of bean casserole. “I’m studying nutrition right now. Hands-on learning.”
“Let me guess, you’re the one who answered my e-mail to Yamashita’s address?” Jun pursed his lips. “I’m almost sorry I said it was fine to bring friends along.”
Jun’s comment reminded Yamapi that he should probably apologize for leaving his computer signed into his e-mail client. Maybe later, when there were fewer pointy things around. He grabbed a plate and loaded it with casserole and veggies, picking a seat at the table already occupied by Sho and Aiba.
Koyama had snatched a handful of beet and taro crisps and wandered over to stand by Sho’s paper buttresses. “Hi, Sakurai-senpai, do you remember me? I took your class in the structures of international commerce last year.”
Sho peered at him. “…Koyama, right? You wrote the paper about promoting translations of Souseki’s ‘Kokoro’ and ‘I Am A Cat’?”
Koyama grinned. “Yes!”
“I feel no ethical remorse in telling you that your paper was one of the best-written, most coherent arguments I’ve ever graded. Thinking about it now gives me feelings of warmth and hope for the human race.”
“Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it! It was very fun to write. Souseki is my friend’s favorite author, it was actually his suggestion. Oh, I need to go get some fruit before Ryo-chan takes it all. Nice to see you, senpai!” Koyama scuttled through the crush of bodies by the food, immediately striking up a conversation with Tegoshi.
Aiba paused to admire the smiling, sunglasses-wearing flower he’d drawn. He handed it to Sho with a flourish. “Are essays really that bad to grade?”
“Sometimes I wish I could send them all back to grade school grammar classes,” Sho glowered. If the future of the world rested upon the ability of his undergraduate students to communicate properly, Sho hoped fate would be merciful and give him a heart attack at a young age. “I’ve gone over this chapter three times but I don’t think a single student in this class knows how to define ‘requisition’ or ‘primage’.”
“A formal request in written form and a percentage of a shipping fee commonly given to a ship’s captain for special attention to particular freight.” Shige placed lowered himself into the seat next to Yamapi.
Sho almost dropped his coffee. “You…you get an A.”
Shige ducked his head. “That would be really helpful if I were in your class.”
Having come by to deliver a plate containing a nutritionally balanced meal to Sho, Jun made a suspiciously derisive noise. “Of course,” Sho groaned. “None of the capable ones belong to me.” To Jun, he muttered, “You get mocking privileges only because you bring me coffee. Everyone else dies.”
“Are all graduate students so violently minded?” Yamapi wanted to know. Ryo would probably make a good graduate student. He already matched well with Jun’s level of snarkiness and apparently that was a requirement for higher degrees.
From across the table, Aiba stole a piece of celery. “Don’t worry, Oh-chan’s not. He’s really calm and helpful and cheerful and friendly. Actually, Sho and Jun are friendly, too. And cheerful! Maybe not calm. But definitely friendly!”
Shige smiled. “I’m a friend of Koyama’s. I’m a sophomore in the law track and I have an open slot for an elective next semester. He suggested I try something in the economics department, like the international publishing class.”
“Unfortunately, the class I’m giving next semester is already full,” Sho was already dreading the next round of grammarless assignments.
“I know, I saw that in the registration website. Could you recommend something similar? Do you know of anything else that’s being offered about international economic policy?”
Sho blinked. “This…is for an elective?”
“Yes.”
Sho twisted around to exchange incredulous glances with Jun. “You’re going to be a junior and you want to take an upper level economics course in your free time?”
One corner of Shige’s mouth quirked up. “My friends would tell you I’m a bit of a nerd,” he confessed, “and I’m thinking about looking into international business law.”
“I’m a business major,” Yamapi offered. “I could help you if you want to look into business classes.”
Shige smiled wanly. “I’m not sure I want to commit to the business track just yet. I kind of want to test the waters with economics first.”
“Fair enough,” Yamapi shrugged. He looked at his empty plate for a moment. “I think I need more casserole.”
“You need cookies! Multiple cookies. Make two stacks so I can have some, too.” Having placed his order, Aiba returned to drawing lopsided kangaroos with overly large teeth.
Heading back to refill his plate brought Yamapi past a lively discussion between Nino and Ryo, apparently about the mechanics of various incarnations of handheld game systems. Nino seemed to be largely in favor of games with complex, percussive keystroke combinations. Having been at the wrong end of Ryo’s devoted passion to the “elegance and fluidity of directional balance in Katamari Damacy” a few too many times, Yamapi decided to avoid entering that conversation.
A few steps past Nino and Ryo, Tegoshi was persuading Jin that Massu had agreed to participate in a psychoanalytics research project and wouldn’t it be fun if Jin volunteered to take part too? From the haughty expression and almost glazed eyes, Yamapi deduced that Jin would fold and agree to be a guinea pig within five minutes. He leaned down to mutter into Tegoshi’s ear, “I’ll treat you to dinner if you hypnotize him into thinking he’s a monkey.”
Tegoshi laughed. “That’s silly, Yamapi. How would you tell the difference?”
Massu was hovering over a pyramid of fruit, fussing over the arrangement of the green versus the red grapes. “The shape is bothering me,” he confessed to Koyama and Ohno. “The red ones look sort of like berries when they fall off the stem. Won’t that get confusing?”
Ohno picked up a fallen grape and popped it into his mouth. “It only matters if it matters to you. The clay is all grey when you’re working with it, anyway. It’s up to you how you paint it later on, to show which are grapes and which are berries.”
“I never realized how intricate an artistic set up could be,” Koyama marveled. “With so many small fruits it can really get complicated. If something rolls the wrong way everything could fall down!”
“At least cleaning up for a fruit still-life is fun and tasty,” Ohno ate another grape that had wobbled away from Massu’s arrangement.
Yamapi looked down at his plate and considered his second helping of dinner. No, he decided, he’d much rather eat his food right away than have to stare at it from a distance.
Jun came up and selected some fruit of his own. “Not much studying getting done for the nutrition final, but at least everyone is eating properly and getting something done. Well, except for Nishikido, but as long as Ninomiya is out of my hair I’m willing to forgive that.”
Yamapi lifted one shoulder and dropped it in a noncommittal shrug. “Free food. It works for me,” he said.