The First Week –A Soon-hee Story Conclusion Update!

[demonix]

[School Festival Mural, 2007, Rin Nomura]

Her name is Tezuka.

Not if she ended up getting married and the plaque was placed after that (if that is even possible for Rin, but I've only been following the side stories of this series).

[Mirage_GSM]

She got married. There was a boy. a blind boy. In the art club. See Chapter Eight of Master Detectives.

Well, if the plaque was placed in 2007 she was still named Tezuka.
No big deal either way.

[Hoitash]

She got married. There was a boy. a blind boy. In the art club. See Chapter Eight of Master Detectives.

Well, if the plaque was placed in 2007 she was still named Tezuka.
No big deal either way.

That was when the mural was made. I'll go cajigure things a bit some more to make it clearer (unlike this sentence )

[Hoitash]

Who’s up for a heartfelt speech?

Too bad, you’re getting one anyway. I am the wordsmith, you are my pawns. Dance, my pawns, dance the dance of readers enthralled by my…

Ahem. Sorry, I’ve been reading some weird books with funny squiggles in my efforts to find a more meaningful career. Anywho:

Previous Chapter

Chapter Four: Welcome to Yamaku


Shut up, alarm. I’m awake….

I crawl from under my bed and without getting up grope at my dresser to turn off the alarm. Unfortunately, I’m too short to reach the off button, and the clocks ends up twirling into my wall, still beeping away. Groaning, I haul myself up and turn it off properly, then put it back in place.

Off to a great start here. Hey, stay positive… swimming. Swimming good. Go swim.

Putting action to word, I get up, shake my head to knock some sense into it, grab my bathroom stuff, some towels, my coat and pants, and head for the bathroom.

There’s no one else there, and once I’m done I switch into my school-issued swimsuit, put on my pants and coat, and head for the pool.

I actually managed to have a decent night’s sleep, so things aren’t off to a bad start, really. I still have to swim, get ready for school, eat, and then go to a real school for the first time in my life, but I’m trying really hard not to worry about that. One problem at a time, as the saying goes.

The grounds are mostly abandoned this early, and the morning chill makes me shiver while I walk along the path. The pavement feels cool and slightly damp under my bare feet, and every now and then a dew soaked blade of grass caresses me on the way. A mist has settled over the grass, and the sun is barely fully raised. It’s kind of creepy, actually, but also kind of pretty. Spring is a season of new beginnings, after all, and that brings with it a form of beauty all its own.

Maybe I’ve been reading too many medieval romances….

The trip to the pool is easy enough, thanks to my rat-like sense of direction. The smell of chlorine helps a lot, too. The pool itself is barely open at this hour, and I’m worried the lifeguard won’t be there –they might be late or just lackadaisical enough not to show up on time. When I step into the pool room, though, I’m greeted by the familiar scent of chlorine, water, and the weary gaze of the lifeguard.

The lifeguard is a young woman, with short black hair a bit longer than mine. She’s on the other end of the pool, and looks to be slowly wandering around its edge. I close the door behind me and walk over to a bench near the pool. The lifeguard walks over to me, waving on the way.

“Hey!” she calls, her voice echoing oddly in the room, “You’re Kim, right? Nurse said you’d be by.”

I nod and return her wave, noticing the bags under her eyes as I state, “That’s me. Nice to meet you, Miss…?”

“Oh, Taeko Isobe,” she smiles and states, “Miss Isobe’s fine. Have fun, just don’t take too long- you don’t wanna miss the ceremony.”

I nod and the lifeguard continues her patrol. I try to tune out her presence while I take off my coat and pants –it’s nothing personal, I’m just incredibly self-conscious. Once that’s done, I start stretching, and my embarrassment slowly fades as I settle into the now familiar routine. When I’m ready, I carefully step into the water. It feels cold, so I spend a few moments adjusting. When I’m used to the temperature, I get in position, and lose myself in my laps.

The stress and anxiety slowly melt away in the water, my mind blissfully clear once again as I focus on my strokes and timing my breathing. The Nurse’s advice to scale it back a bit manages to work itself into my mind, and I reluctantly stop my routine a bit shorter than I normally would. While I’m toweling off, Miss Isobe wanders over, looking a little less like she wants to crawl onto a bench and take a nap.

Smiling wearily, she remarks, “Looks like you had a good swim.”

“I did,” I say, managing a small smile myself, “I like swimming.”

Miss Isobe’s smile widens a bit, “I could tell. So, you planning on making this a daily deal?”

I nod, “Fortunately I’m a morning person.”

She smirks and remarks, “Could tell that, too.”

While I towel off she wanders back to patrol the pool, which I guess is her way of waking up, since there isn’t much point to doing that if no one’s in it. When I’m mostly dry I throw on my pants and coat and head back to the dorm for a quick shower, a breakfast casserole, and my allergy medication.

I had planned to head to the welcome ceremony a bit early so I could get a seat in the back by a wall or something, so I’m one of the first ones out of the dorm and off to the main auditorium. I’m not the only one, though. On my way down the stairs I think I see one of the first-years Setsuko mentioned skitter for the elevator, and on the ground floor a girl with dark brown hair is waiting by the open front door for an approaching girl in a wheelchair. As I make my way along the grounds I notice a couple of male students trickling their way out, and I see a couple students coming in from the gate along the way as well.

The problem with wanting to be early to everything is you end up running into all the other people who think like that.

Following the slowly gathering crowd gets me to the auditorium easily enough, and I pause to the side of the large wooden double doors to make sure I’m okay. Crowds make me nervous. I should be able to get a seat near the edge or back easily enough this early on, and if not, I can manage. Hopefully. I do know waiting around outside won’t make the seats any more available, so I head into the auditorium while it’s still relatively empty.

The auditorium has a pretty standard setup, with a few obvious differences. A large screen hanging from the ceiling above the stage is projecting the currently unoccupied podium, so that the sign language interpreter can be seen by the whole audience. The back few rows of seats are devoid of chairs to accommodate the wheelchair-bound students, the back rows with chairs have special chairs for students with things like severe arthritis, and a couple nurses are spread along the walls, just in case. Other than that it’s a pretty normal auditorium, though a bit better lit and ornamented than most.

I find a seat near the back rows at the end of the right side, and wait, placing my bag under my chair. Students are filing in at a larger rate. The chairs on the stage are naturally already full. Besides the faculty itself, lined up along the left side of the stage in chairs of their own, a second set of chairs, two rows deep and perpendicular to the faculty, seats the prominent members of the administration and some members of the school’s larger donators.

The President and Vice President of the Hakamichi Foundation have front row seats, the Vice President’s chair angled so she can translate directly to Miss Hakamichi. The Vice President is chatting away with someone in the row behind her, who I can’t quite see because the chairs aren’t staggered. Next to the VP, the President is having a sign language conversation with a woman in a dark brown suit.

Next to the two women are some men in business suits, and it’s safe to say the chairs behind the donator representatives are filled with other donators, and probably a few members from the Yamaku Foundation Board of Directors.

Hmm, I wonder if….

Yep; after standing up briefly to get a better look at the second row of chairs, I can see Director Nakai sitting on the end behind the Hakamichi Foundation Vice President –Miss Mikado’s her name. It looks like the Director is who the VP is chatting with.

Seeing the Director again reminds me of the conversation we had, when I decided I’d attend Yamaku. The Director had asked me if her scars bothered me, and I told her they didn’t. I think that fact surprised her a little, but, she was still a person, and besides, it’s not like I have a right to judge anyone.

I really, really hope the students here have the same idea about me.

The aisles are filling quickly as the start of the ceremony approaches. A tall girl sits next to me, her eyes fixed on the stage just like mine. A few students are chatting amongst themselves as old friends pick up where they left off, while new students try to mingle. Some, like me, are alone in a sea of concern for the future, not really willing to reach out just yet, but knowing that we must, eventually.

We’re all alone together. For now.

Once the start of the ceremony is only a few moments away, two women step into place behind and beside the podium, respectively. The one behind the podium is the Principal, an older woman with her graying hair in a bun. The other woman is the one whom the Hakamichi President was chatting with, so she must be the interpreter.

The mild murmuring that’s run through the room as old friends and new ones chat dies down. The Principal taps the microphone a few times, and it responds by making a couple loud clunks. The Principal shuffles the notes of her speech, clears her throat, and begins.

“Good morning, everyone, I am the Principal of Yamaku Academy, Kiyomi Matsumoto. To our entering students: welcome. To our returning students and staff, welcome back. Founded with generous donations from local corporations,” she gestures at the chairs behind and to her right, “Yamaku is dedicated to ensuring that each and every one of you gets a chance at a proper education. Yamaku is a place for you to grow and succeed as a person, a student, and a citizen-”

Or resident, in my case. Well, for now anyway.

“-and where you can come to terms with whatever it was that brought you here. The year ahead is full of promise for all of you, and I have no doubt you all will do this school proud with your endeavors, both here and beyond.”

Once her sign language translator has caught up and finished, polite applause echoes out for a few moments. When it dies down, the Principal shuffles her papers again, clears her throat, and continues speaking.

“Traditionally, the Chairperson of the Yamaku Foundation Board of Directors would also give a speech. However, Mrs. Williams is also a teacher, and is presently attending a welcome ceremony of her own. In her steed, please welcome the Director of Public Relations of the Yamaku Foundation Board of Directors, and member of the 2008 graduating class of Yamaku Academy, Hanako Nakai.”

Applause once again echoes through the room, and it sounds much more earnest this time around. Someone in the crowd even whistles. Director Nakai stiffly makes her way from the stage chairs to take the podium as the Principal steps aside. She and the Principal exchange bows, and the Director takes her place. She doesn’t seem to have any notes, and the part of her face not covered in scars looks flushed. She closes her eyes, inhales, exhales, opens her eyes, and, looking more resolved and calm, and also at a point behind us on the wall, begins her own speech:

“When I first came to Yamaku, I thought I was useless, broken, and beyond hope. That there was no future for me, and as long as I could struggle through life day by day, keeping myself away from the world that seemed to despise me so, that would be enough. I do not doubt that had I continued that line of thought, I would not be standing here before you today.

“The staff of Yamaku accommodated me and my condition, allowing me to learn in a safe environment for the first time in years. My therapist helped me grow as a person and come to terms with my problems. Still, for most of my time here, I merely coasted.

“Then I met my best friend, and some time later, my future husband,” at the mention of her husband her hands start fidgeting –maybe she’s fiddling with her wedding band or something. Smiling lightly, she continues, “They helped me see that I may be broken, but I was not beyond hope. If I could accept that the world was not as cruel as I thought, that there are people who truly care about me, I could not just coast through life, but live it.”

The Director pauses and slowly looks over the assembled students, looking an odd mix of anxious, concerned, and resolved, “The outside world will not be kind to you. Though it is much better then when I was a student, you will face struggles, prejudice, and ignorance. You will also have to accept the bitter truth that scars do not heal. However, that it is why you must make the most of your time here.

“You must take the gifts of the accommodating faculty, the friendships forged, and love found –even if only briefly- so that when the outside world sneers and glares, you have people and experiences you can turn to for support. With the help of that support, you will be able to live and thrive, no matter how brief your time in this life may be,” she smiles lightly at the assembled students, “Scars do not heal, but they do fade. Remember the gift that is Yamaku, make the most of it, and you will be more than prepared for life beyond these walls. Thank you.”

The Director takes a step back, and applause erupts through the crowd –which naturally includes me. There’s also more whistling, too. The Director looks a little flushed at the attention, but she’s smiling widely. She bows again to the Principal, and resumes her seat on the stage.

The Principal resumes her spot at the podium, but it takes a while for the crowd to settle down. When the crowd finally settles, the Principal says, “Thank you again, Director, for a lovely and encouraging speech. Before we conclude, I would like to announce that Director Nakai will be outside the cafeteria during lunch period to sign copies of her books. Limit two copies per student, no passes allowed to skip class for signing. Once again, Welcome to Yamaku, and have a good year!”

The scars of others should teach us caution.

+++
Next Chapter

Those that are able to do so, please rise for the school song:



I think Hana needs some tea and a big-ass pen.

[Mirage_GSM]

She asked me if my scars bothered her, and I told her they didn’t.

Something's not right there.
Everything else is very good as usual.

[Hoitash]

She asked me if my scars bothered her, and I told her they didn’t.

Something's not right there.
Everything else is very good as usual.

I think I was missing a that, so I threw one in.

And thanks

[Mirage_GSM]

It's more aour use of pronouns:
The way you wrote it, Hanako asked Son-Hee if Son Hee's scars bothered Hanako, and Son-Hee told Hanako that Son-Hee's scars don't bother Hanako.

You can leave the "that" out if you want.

[Hoitash]

It's more aour use of pronouns:
The way you wrote it, Hanako asked Son-Hee if Son Hee's scars bothered Hanako, and Son-Hee told Hanako that Son-Hee's scars don't bother Hanako.

You can leave the "that" out if you want.

Ah, right, my continued failing at basic reading comprehension

Think I got it this time.

[Alpacalypse]

I caught one, boss!

much better then when

"than"

Anyway, can't be bothered to look for any more, this is great!
I'd dance as a pawn if this is what I'm dancing to. damn, really need to get on and read H&K: Master Detectives

Also, I'd rise for that school song - then I'd air-guitar to it. Thanks for bringing it to my attention.

[demonix]

It's more aour use of pronouns:
The way you wrote it, Hanako asked Son-Hee if Son Hee's scars bothered Hanako, and Son-Hee told Hanako that Son-Hee's scars don't bother Hanako.

You can leave the "that" out if you want.

Ah, right, my continued failing at basic reading comprehension

Think I got it this time.

Nope..

The second her should be a me.

[Hoitash]

It's more aour use of pronouns:
The way you wrote it, Hanako asked Son-Hee if Son Hee's scars bothered Hanako, and Son-Hee told Hanako that Son-Hee's scars don't bother Hanako.

You can leave the "that" out if you want.

Ah, right, my continued failing at basic reading comprehension

Think I got it this time.

Nope..

The second her should be a me.

I officially hate that sentence.

Okay, now I think I got it.

[Hoitash]

Yay, high school. Whiny freshmen, terrible food, horribly written history textbooks…

And people wonder why I don’t get my teaching certificate….

Previous Chapter

Chapter Five: Welcome to the Jungle


Okay, you can do this. It’s just a matter of scale. This class is about four times the size of the one at the ward, so just focus on the row in front of you. Scale, just like Miss Sorami said. Besides, you handled the ceremony. You’re just worrying too much. Stupid missed laps, and I don’t have PE today. Great.

Really I’m probably just making a mountain out of a molehill, but it’s helping me get through the organized chaos that is the crowd of students, so in lieu of Pocky sticks or an orange to fiddle with it’ll do the job. The one thing I’m not too worried about is my actual academic prospects. I did, after all, get five years of education in slightly over as many months.

A quick count of Class 2-3 gives me sixteen desks, which is the average for the classes at Yamaku, according to Kenji. The -4 classes get a bit big because they have the wheelchair bound students, amputees, and usually the degenerative neurological disorders, depending on the nature of the disorder. The -1 and -2 classes tend to be on the smaller side, so on average there’s usually around 200 students at the school. That’s what Kenji told me, at least.

Anyway, most of the students are already here, and a few are talking to who I presume is the teacher, a relatively young looking woman with short black hair, a somewhat worn face, and a skirted suit that seems pressed and straightened to within an inch of its life.

Over the weekend I had asked Kenji a bit about Yamaku, so I’d have an idea of what to expect. One of the things he told me was that his old English teacher had retired recently. He didn’t know anything about her replacement, though if I had asked he probably would have found out for me. That didn’t seem proper, though.

Oh, my first class today is English. I probably should have mentioned that sooner. I manage to grab a seat at the end of the row by the door, and busy myself preparing for the coming class as best I can. As the tolling of the bell looms, the students start taking seats, including those talking with the teacher.

The bell does eventually ring, and so begins my first official day of school ever. Not counting the psych ward, at least –which legally won’t when I’m twenty.

“Good morning class,” the teacher begins. She has the weird polish in her voice that bilingual people sometimes get, from having to remember what language to speak at any given moment, “My name is Nozomi Hoshizora, or as you’ll be expected to refer to me, Mrs. Hoshizora. I’m your English and homeroom teacher, which is rather convenient today as English is your first class. As part of homeroom, I’d like everyone to introduce themselves, even if you were in class together in 1-3. Then you can select your class representative. Before that, however, I have some start of the year announcements.”

I wonder if she practices sounding so pretentious, or if it’s a side effect of being bilingual and a teacher.

I should probably focus less on why my teacher sounds like she has a stick up her ass –please pardon my language- and pay more attention to what she’s actually saying.

Mrs. Hoshizora pulls some papers from her desk and briefly looks them over before saying, “First off, a reminder from the athletic clubs that medical approval to apply is required from either the Head Nurse or the Assistant Head Nurse if Nurse cannot be reached. Medical approval does not guarantee acceptance to a club.

“The newspaper club would like you to know that both digital and print copies of the school newspaper, the Yamaku Enquirer, will be available starting next Tuesday, with a bi-monthly print schedule following. Braille copies are available outside class 3-2.

“The roof is off limits to all students pending replacement of the fence, which is expected to be completed by the end of the trimester. The Administration apologizes for the sounds of construction, which should conclude by the end of the trimester.

“The student tea room is open to all students to use responsibly, and for recommendations or requests regarding its contents, please leave a suggestion form for the tea club. For direct contributions, please contact the tea club directly, due to student body dietary restrictions.

The teacher sighs and smirks lightly as she continues, “Are you troubled by strange noises in the middle of the night? Do you experience feelings of dread in your basement or attic? Have you or your family ever seen a spook, spectre or ghost? If the answer is "yes," then don't wait another minute –join the Occult Club today! We’re ready to believe you. Speak to Ito-sensei if interested.”

A couple students snicker quietly, and I hear a derisive humph somewhere to my left. Mrs. Hoshizora glances up at the class to get them to settle, although a few students look genuinely interested, while I spend a moment thinking of fluffy bunnies and kittens to keep my mind from wandering to places I don’t want it to go.

“Finally,” the teacher continues, “the science club encourages scientifically minded students of both genders to consider joining, as membership has been traditionally mono-gender. Though not as traditional as tea or archery, the science club is dedicated to expanding student’s knowledge and understanding of the world around them.”

Mrs. Hoshizora looks up from her papers, “Those are all the announcements I have, so let’s move on to introductions. I do see a few new students this year, but it’s a good idea to reacquaint yourselves with your fellow classmates, as well as new ones.”

Starting with my row, all the students stand up and introduce themselves. Some mention their disability, some make it obvious they think the formality of introductions are a waste of time, and everyone spends just a second too long keeping an eye on me when I introduce myself. There doesn’t seem to be any intent besides idle curiosity, so it could just be bored teenagers intrigued by the unusual.

Being unusual where the unusual is usual is something I have to get used to.

After the introductions comes the battle for class representative. Three students are interested in the position, which is about three more than I expected. I’ve never been one for politics, though, so that might just be personal opinion.

After a couple brief speeches about why they’re the best candidate, and a gentle reminder from the teacher about academic performance, the job eventually goes to Hayato Sonoda, a male student with long black hair combed over one side of his head. The comb-over is to cover a scar that runs along the side of his head, which you wouldn’t notice except he’s one of the students who mentioned what his disability was.

With business wrapped up, we dive into the English lesson.

Mrs. Hoshizora may use a lot of words and have a stick lodged firmly up her rectum, but she knows her stuff and knows how to make sure the students know it, too. I and a few other students seem to catch her attention early on, though I’m not sure yet if that’s a good thing or a bad one. I think one of the other student’s to catch her eye is the one Setsuko mentioned as living next to me, but I’m not sure.

After English is social studies. The teacher is an older man with a graying goatee and a face crinkled from smiling a lot. The students seem to like him, and he obviously enjoys his work. Doesn’t stop him from piling on the homework, but it’s mostly reading and writing, which is what you expect in this kind of class anyway.

Once the Japanese teacher enters the room, the students tense up and the mood instantly changes. Omiya-sensei is a cranky older man who probably should have retired with the previous English teacher, but didn’t. He seems the type to be hard on floundering students, and whenever he glares near me the hairs on my neck stand up. I make a mental note to work on my formal Japanese, which is one of my weaker subjects, so I don’t get his attention for falling behind. Or his attention at all if I can help it –he’s kind of creepy, like a looming specter kept at bay by a threshold of salt, and none too happy about it.

The last class before lunch and my trip to meet the Judo Club is math, which is the class I’ve been dreading the most. Math and I don’t get along too well. I mean, I can do basic math in my head, but then you go and add angles and letters and my brain gives up and begs for some candy.

Having the class before lunch doesn’t help, that’s for sure.

The math teacher, Ito-sensei, is a heavyset, aging man who seems constantly on the verge of keeling over from exhaustion. He also seems constantly constipated. He doesn’t make the hairs on my neck stand up like the Japanese teacher did, but he doesn’t seem to take poor performance well, either. In a way that shows he cares, though, so I can’t fault him for it.

I wonder why he’s the occult club advisor. I’d figure the Japanese teacher for something creepy like that.

Kenji warned me that everything isn’t what it seems here. I think I’m starting to see why.

Whatever his outside class activities, Ito-sensei has excellent timing, as he wraps up his lesson mere seconds before the lunch bell tolls.

With the limited time I have before my remaining classes, I shovel a casserole into my mouth at my desk before heading off to the Judo Club. I may not have much time, but I’m just dropping off some paperwork, and I have a good enough memory of the corridors and halls that I should be able to get where I’m going pretty quickly. How things go when I get there is an entirely different matter.

Therefore, send not to know /For whom the bell tolls, /It tolls for thee.

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Next Chapter

I would hate to have math before lunch.

I also hate that lunch is at ten o’clock sometimes, but such is life. I guess that’s why they invented tea time and jobs that don’t require getting up at five in the morning.

[Mirage_GSM]

My name is Nozomi Hoshizora-sensei

You don't use honorifics like "sensei" when referring to yourself. You don't usually use honorifics in your stories, so this is a terrible place to start

who probably should of retired

should have retired
Those "official announcements" were kind of strange. If you hadn't mentioned repeatedly how stuck up the English teacher is, I would have thought she was messing with her students... As it is I'm not sure what to think about them...

[Hoitash]

My name is Nozomi Hoshizora-sensei

You don't usually use honorifics in your stories, so this is a terrible place to start

There is actually a point to doing so in this story that may or not become apparent as the chapters go on.

who probably should of retired

should have retired

Ah, thanks for that. Woulda worked if she was talking, but sadly that was not the case.

Those "official announcements" were kind of strange. If you hadn't mentioned repeatedly how stuck up the English teacher is, I would have thought she was messing with her students... As it is I'm not sure what to think about them...

They're just your general morning announcements, really.

[Mirage_GSM]

I really don't think teacher are usually pitching club memberships like TV commercials...
At least stuck up teachers don't. I could imagine something like that from nurse.