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I apologize! I've been very busy with senior year, but now that I've got most college-things finished, we should be a little more on schedule now. Please enjoy whenever possible.

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Chapter Two: Morning

The sun's quite bright today.

I raise myself with my elbows, groping for my glasses, wincing at the sunrise piercing the greyness of the morning sky. My hand shuffles against the bed, past the billowing white sheets surrounding my body, and pulls back the waterfall of cloth so slowly making its towards the floor, wrapping its length around my ankles. A sharp intake of air, as the touch of cold makes its way upward around my slowly retracting legs.

It's freezing.

Says the voice in my head, as I nuzzle into the pillow at my side. Dark, cold, and freezing. Just how most mornings start out, anyhow. It still doesn't change the fact that I really don't feel like getting out of bed. I've been enjoying sleeping here for the past how-many hours, savoring each moment of quietly lying down underneath these covers, albeit unconscious in the hours' entirety. But that doesn't matter, it's comfortable where I am. Even if it means feeling like an inanimate object with a knack for idling in self-imposed laziness. A very comfortable, self-imposing inanimate object.

My eyes drift wearily towards the nightstand beside me, gazing between the tufts of bedsheets, towards the nearby clock and its shimmering electronic pixels. It's all a little blurry from here, like it's too far being so close by. Makes me wonder just how much sleep didn't I get last night, if it means not being able to see in the mornings. Probably not a whole lot. It'd make sense.

...Mm.

Right. I, um. Forgot I wore glasses for a second.

Sighing, I reach across the bed, probing for the aged translucence of my lens, pressing the weight of their frame against my nose. The view of the dorm that I've resided in for the length of my educational career permeates itself through my glasses, showing the same, simple walls, simple mattress covers. A ceiling covered by an abundance of daydreams and sleepless nights past, of the ends of the week spent wasted and unproductive, heavily tinted by the essence of solitary philosophizing and the hue of khaki-colored bareness. It's a room, and it's mine, and there isn't anything worth noting other than how there isn't anything worth noting. A square box of irony.

I swallow, sticking a tongue in my cheek. So this is what it's like being normal. Normal being too reflective, and skeptical of an average life without one-hundred percent contentment. Or of having absolutely nothing to do about it, and anything to do in general. I should fix that some time soon, and I could – though I don't really feel like doing work.

But, I have people to impress. I have people, like Naomi, to not miserably fail high school in front of, people that are going to stick around for something of an unknown, interminable duration. For graduation and beyond. And I suppose only God, or whatever omniscience in the sky, knows how long that'll be – other than a really long time.

I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose. My presence must be another one of those selfish joys of hers. And even then, it's hard to see myself minding it. Hardly something to complain about.

Most things are better shared, after all.

Like, sushi.

And dinner tables.

Family-sized sukiyaki bowls.

...Ugh. I'm hungry.

Shaking my head, I reach for the laptop underneath my bedsheets, angling it to shade me from the inconvenient morning glare, opening a list of e-mail in my browser. Still nothing from Akio's end of the internet; still nothing in the recent twelve hours of homework-free leisure we've spent away from our educational obligations. Which means my patiently waiting on that article review he was supposed to send last night's gonna spill into the cold, empty daybreak, it seems. That's not really an addition I'd like to welcome with this kind of an exhausted and food-exempt morning start, but it's not really his fault, either. He isn't part of the journalism club, meaning I wouldn't be surprised if volunteer work wasn't a high priority on his list of obligations. However short that list may be.

Besides, that book he was reading might've been better than I thought, and he could've gotten carried away. I should ask for it once he's finished his read-through, the next time he stalls on his annotations. It could be collateral for whenever this happens again.

I sigh, clicking over the messenger on my laptop screen. Maybe Naomi's gotten something for me to work on, or something to talk about. I might as well check. Just need to make sure she's awake first.

Ding.

Oh, right. Of course, course she is.

Welp. At least I'm not the only one who might accidentally be up this early in the morning. I suppose that's nothing to complain about, either.

“Hey, Natsume,” greets an all, far too familiar voice over my speakers. Her face pops onto my screen, an image from the messenger's chat window, sported with an airy grey tank top strung loosely across her shoulders. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” I reply, feeling the small push of an emerging smile against my cheek. Loneliness and boredom averted. “You seem quite the cheerful beam of lackluster today. Feeling weary?”

Naomi yawns, sighing as she stretches her arms above her head, the light brush of static gently fizzing against her microphone. “Just a bit,” she says, exhaling. “But, that's a given, you know. Trying to be consciously aware of one's cognitive activity outside of an educational course and all. It's rather stressful.”

“Mm. Always,” I mutter. Such is the relatable plight of most high school students. “You would think that commercials portraying and advertising jubilant morning wake-ups might actually represent an ounce of real-life possibility.”

“Yes. Or, at the very least, a gram.” She pouts slightly, with an expression taut of slight disappointment. “Advertisements tend to be quite misleading. Perhaps we're unlucky?”

“Seems like it.” I chuckle at being a part of her suddenly pluralistically-definitive misfortune. We, she'd said. “But it's not that bad, I think. Our mornings could always be worse, by a long shot.”

Naomi nods. “They could,” she remarks. “And we should be thankful with being content about our supple...averageness. Or boringness, whichever. Um, how long have you been awake for?”

Her subtly elated tone of voice layers her concern, and I let go of the bottom lip I'd been unconsciously, purposelessly pressing my teeth against for however long. “I, um. Er, I only just woke up a little while ago. Just checked my e-mail, and felt a little lonely. Uh, you?”

“Um, just a couple of hours. And quite literally a couple, in the name of research, so no need to worry about my mental well-being. I've slept enough. I've also been doing quite well without my swimwear despite all the surfing that's taken place on my laptop.”

She giggles modestly at her pun, and I can't help but pull another smile at the tired edge of her voice. Anyone employing the humorous flexibility of linguistic communication this early in the morning via surfing-based paronomasia is probably well enough to properly function.

And that's good to know. Neither of us seem half, nor completely drunk on semi-consciousness.

But in that context, I've been an underage alcoholic for most of my adolescent life.

Wonder how much Suzu pays for rehab.

“I hope you enjoy surfing quite a bit, then. It'd be news to me, I wouldn't take you for a swimsuit kind of person.”

My comment is met with another short discharge of giggling. “Me neither,” she says, much a verbal shrug. “I don't swim very often, and even still, swimsuits feel a little restraining, or uncomfortable. In the sense that, wet spandex just doesn't appeal to me as much as it might to others.”

“But that's the whole point,” I reply. “Wet spandex wasn't something that was designed for the wearer's own visual appreciation. If anything, it's less an article of clothing than it is a synthetic dress of elastics au naturel. But I think that, um. That it would fit your figure more than mine, if you were to go swimming. Water doesn't really work that well with me.”

“Oh?” Her tone seems to hint at a pique in her curiosity. “And might I ask why?”

She pauses, hesitating. “Um, not trying to pry or anything. I'm just...wondering, er.”

I roll my eyes, blowing a stream of air across my forehead. Most everyone wonders.

“Well, it's less an issue with me as it is with my hair, really.” I laugh quietly, trailing off into silently cursing the untidy mess on top of my head. “Dried chlorine and all other assorted chemicals have this thing of making it even more knotted than should ever be considered possible. It's a little ridiculous.”

Ridiculous, says the voice in my head, how swimming makes my hair look straight, simply hiding the demon underneath from visual recognition. All it takes is one hopeful, futile drag of a comb, to reveal its secrets.

My undying struggles.

Naomi nods, in understanding of the complications with my...inconvenience. “That's fine. I suppose that's ample reason enough to avoid swimming.” She throws another gentle smile in my direction. “But wouldn't having to rinse it all out with shampoo and conditioner help even a little bit?”

“In this mess?” I run my fingers through the weaves my hair, occasionally meeting resistance from the numerous entangled strands in between. “I've tried as often as how many times I've failed. There's much, much envy held between us, Naomi. You have no idea.”

“Well, at least there's something there,” she murmurs, looking to the side, lips pulled in a delicate smirk. I almost didn't hear that. “You know, I would think that once your hair dried up, after a swim, it would appear all fluffy. And, everywhere. Kind of like a poodle, you know?”

“You – you just compared a couple of adjectives in relation to my hair to the fluff of a poodle.”

“But, they were complimentary adjectives.”

“A poodle.”

“But poodles are cute, Natsume!”

“Naomi, I am not a dog,” I exhale feverishly, furiously hiding my blush behind the neck of my t-shirt. My words turn muffled by the ball of cloth and embarrassment pressed against my face. “I'd prefer keeping the image of my hair separate from something that barks and flaunts flamboyant pompadour. Please.”

“Aww. I'm sorry.” She holds her arms out in front of her, and gestures invitingly with an open smile. “How about a hug, then?”

“Pardon,” I mutter, burying myself further in my shoulders. “I'm still a little miffed about the dog thing, if you don't mind.”

Naomi giggles, sticking her tongue out afterwards. “You'd be quite the pet,” she says, in a mockingly endearing fashion. “In looks and all. But, Natsume, please. I really don't mean any of this. I just, um. I enjoy it more than I should, and I hope you're not offended, I wouldn't – I mean, it's all in fun. For us, in a sense. It doesn't hurt to be happy once in a while.”

She leans on her elbow, wearing a soft grin. “You know, the best kind of smiles are the ones you don't really plan out beforehand, the ones that come naturally. That you might not want to have, even. You shouldn't have to hide yours from me.”

“I'm not – ”

I pause, closing my eyes, stopping myself from delivering a senseless denial. I vaguely remember this conversation starting somewhere between swimming and internet before we'd gotten to this emotional tangent.

“Sorry,” I sigh, pulling my chin out of my t-shirt. “I'm being immature.”

“Nooo,” she giggles. “You're being embarrassed, that's what you are.”

“Oh, shush,” I mumble incoherently, glancing to the side. My sights rest on the windowsill, and the once piercing glares of sunrise it'd greeted moments earlier, prior. It looks a little less bright now, outside.

Looks like it might rain.

I mentally scoff at a nearby cloud. The weather, continuing to be an occasional inconvenience. Seems like nature itself wants to make fun of me as well, us talking about my hair so much. Looks like I'll be spending most of my time indoors today.

I bring my gaze back to Naomi, whose eyes seem to reflect her subtle happiness, and the simplicity of enjoying the moment. Maybe a little bit of hopefulness. I don't think she's noticed the clouds outside just yet. But, it's nothing important. She'll probably notice later, anyways.

Maybe we should get a window seat during lunch in the cafeteria.

Naomi tilts her head, with a curious expression. “Thinking about something, Natsume?”

“...Mm,” I reply, breaking away from my previous train of thought. “I was thinking about what kind of a dog I'd be.”

She purses her lips and shrugs. “A really snarky one, most likely. No offense. By the way, that offer for the hug is still open.”

“Yeah, I know. The offer's still pending decision, Naomi.”

“So...might I try again later?”

I smile. You never stop trying. “Sure. But definitely later, okay? Like, after class. Maybe over lunch.”

Lunch...

...Ugh. It's unhealthy to be this hungry in the morning. Maybe I slept on my stomach a little too long.

“Aw, come on.” Naomi folds her hands, propping her chin on top with her tongue sticking out. “It's just a hug, Natsume. Nothing to be so touchy about.”

“Oh, quite the contrary,” I giggle, taking in the lightness of our conversation. “Just remind me later, and I'll reconsider my earlier decision. I promise.”

I look over at the clock on my nightstand, checking the flashing, pixelated numbers. Still a little whiles to go until the school day officially starts.

I sigh, contemplating sleep, and meeting with Naomi on the walk to 3-3. There hasn't been much going on other than our discussion, and I'm a little too emotionally exhausted to keep up with the potential drivel.

A little rest wouldn't hurt, honestly. Especially after all this...stuff.

I could use a break.

Ding.

“Morning, people.”

Ah. Well, never mind.

God, dammit.

“Akio.” Naomi perks a little, in welcoming the new guest, her eyes moving between the windows of her computer screen. “Good morning.”

“Mm, morning,” I add, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose. I disagree completely with Naomi's statement, but I might as well put in a positive for our friend. We need his help, after all. And that article.

My red-headed and T-shirt sporting companion ignores us both, staring intently below his webcam. If not looking completely bored out of his mind doing so.

“Naomi, your hair's a mess,” he states flatly.

And bluntly. As expected.

“Mean,” Naomi mumbles, fumbling for a nearby comb. “Do you have that article review ready, Akio? We've been waiting for it the entire night.”

He crosses his arms and sighs. “I would've sent it to you if I was finished. I'll be done with it by tomorrow, if you guys are willing to wait that long.”

“Oh, we're willing,” she huffs, pursing her lips. “But there's no need for the attitude, really. We know that you might have your own things to deal with.”

“Like, homework, I guess.” Akio slacks his jaw, shrugging. “And a mountain of books to read. And helping Suzu clean up the library. And that test this week. God, don't you guys have lives? I swear I'm getting less and less time to get my work done.”

“Senior year,” I remark. “Sleep, grades, social life. Choose two.”

He scoffs. “Well, easy to see which poisons you've picked, m'lady. Myself excluded, I'm counting the number of people you talk to in a week with half a hand.”

“Oh, good. You can count. I was honestly getting worried for a second.”

“Right? I'm using my noggin for once.” Akio rolls his eyes. “Thanks, mom.”

He continues, leaning against back of his chair and letting loose a small sigh. “Anyways, I've got something to do with the Literature club during lunch. I won't be doing much then, but feel free to join if you've got the time. I know you guys can't do work until I finish my annotations. We'll have food if you guys are hungry. That's all I wanted to say.”

“Food sounds pretty good right now,” Naomi chides. “I'm a little starving.”

“More than a little,” I groan. “Please stop talking about lunch. We haven't even had breakfast yet.”

“Then I take it you guys are coming?”

“Oh, of course.” I tuck my feet in my bedsheets a little, soaking in a bit of warmth from the cold. “I think I'm gonna take a nap, though. Don't feel like waiting for class to start.”

“I agree,” Naomi says. “Some rest would benefit the both of us. I wouldn't want to be dozing off in the middle of Mutou's lectures...Akio.”

“Ow, that hurts.” Akio looks to the side, rubbing his chest in mock agony. “He can't even tell, most of the time. I'm not sure why you guys started caring now.”

I frown. “Not everyone's a professional slacker.”

“It's not that bad of a position, honestly. There's lots of job security in my field.”

Naomi sighs, with a slightly concerned, exasperated expression. Perhaps she's not used to arguing a lost cause.

“Then we'll start on our own shifts, Akio. Natsume and I are gonna go get some sleep.”

“Birds of a feather,” he mutters. He reaches to the side, pulling a book onto his lap and prying its pages apart. It's the same book from yesterday. “Sweet dreams, you two.”

Naomi nods. “Enjoy the book.”

“Later, Akio,” I reply, closing his messenger window with a click of my mouse. My avert my gaze towards Naomi, who's in the midst of a tired yawn, a hand covering her mouth.

I open my mouth to bid her farewell, only to be interrupted by the growling of my stomach, and the rising pang of hunger solidifying itself inside my midriff. Instantaneously, my thoughts fly to the cupboard in the corner of my room. I might still have my emergency supplies there – emergency, in the loosest sense of the word.

“Um, Naomi?”

“Hm?” she says, rubbing a hand against one of her eyes. “Natsume?”

“Er. Wanna go meet in the commons and set up some hot water? I don't think I can take it anymore.”

The subtle remnants of the pain comes back, and I take a deep breath to simmer it down. Naomi pauses, curious, and straightens as the context clicks my message into place.

“Oh! Oh, sure, I – I'll, um. I'll just get dressed and, uh. See you there. Ramen?”

“Yep,” I sigh, mustering some semblance of a grin. It's hard to feel bad about eating before sleeping if you have someone to accompany you. “Just something to make us both happy, today.”

“Well, I like it,” she giggles. “However simple it may be. I'll be right out.”

The connection between our messengers falter, and I press the top of my laptop against its keyboard. Cold emptiness greets me as I throw my legs to the side of the bed, my feet into some slippers for warmth, as I grab a pack of unhealthily familiar instant noodles from the cupboard, mentally extinguishing the small surge of guilt with thoughts of a steaming bowl of satisfaction. The shade of the outside's cloud-covered morning sees me off, a touch of compassionate chill, as I pull a jacket over my shoulders, stepping into the vacancy of the hallway, echoes accentuating the spacious nothingness in which the corridors bask adrift before school hours.

The pleasures of inanimate objects, I think to myself. Just idling into whatever happens next.

Like renovation.

“Natsume?”

“Um?” I turn down the hall, finding Naomi huddled at the side of her door, similarly dressed with a jacket and slight shivers.

“Natsume,” she breathes. “Wow, it's cold. Sorry I didn't beat you to the commons.”

“Not everyone's at their fastest this early,” I condole, stifling a yawn with my hand. I walk over next to her, waving the packet of shrimp-flavored starch in the air. “I have the...uh, thing.”

“Good,” she sighs. “Come on, let's go make breakfast. We shouldn't waste our time standing in the frigid here.”

I giggle, which sounds more like a soft shiver than anything else. The cloth of our jackets don't seem to be doing much for the either of us. “Hardly a waste of time. We're together, aren't we?”

“Well,” she says, with a sheepish grin. “If you put it like that, then I suppose I can deal with it. Don't you feel like sleeping today?”

“Oh, sure. Sleep.” I huddle against her shoulder, and we continue our journey down the hall. “I'll lose a little if it means enjoying a warm meal.”

“Meal is a very loose term for you, isn't it, Natsume.”

“Extremely.”

She glances towards me, still sporting the awkward smile, but noticeably more relaxed. Small talk goes a long way, apparently.

The walk goes on with small, leisurely steps, in silence, the air punctuated softly by the shuffling of our feet against the floor, and the inaudible inhales and exhales from our chests. Our gazes hardly stay in the same place, brushing over the insignificant details of the walls, our almost matching paces – but it's more comfortable this way. Nothing changes, like this.

Am I supposed to prefer it this way?

I sigh. It's not normal being so content with so little, is it?

Naomi shudders, ducking into her shoulders, her jacket. “Brr, it's so cold in here.”

I nod, looking up at the ceiling passing by. “Keen observation, really. I wouldn't have guessed.”

“Oh, Natsume.”

“I mean, um. The temperature's relative to whatever you're feeling. So I suppose we're rather warm in the eyes of the floor tiles, or the corridors.”

“But they don't have eyes.”

“It's a figure of speech, Naomi.”

She rolls her eyes, with a smirk. “I was kidding, you know. Gosh.”

“Fine, alright. I was just making sure.”

Naomi smiles, again. It shouldn't be this easy to make someone smile.

“Thanks. And, well – you seem rather warm to me,” she says, slowly pulling a hand out of her jacket, rolling her sleeve around her wrist. “Regardless of perspective. Look, here – I'm nearly freezing.”

She offers me her hand, and I try to ignore the jump inside my chest, cautiously taking a quick glance at her expression. The same glimmer of hope from earlier this morning, with a shade of mischievous intent. Hidden underneath the guise of casual conversation.

I shake my head, consolingly. Maybe we know each other too well. “It's okay. I can feel how cold it is already, I'm fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Almost positively so. “Mm, I'm fine. But thanks.”

Almost, I say to myself.

Naomi sighs, eyes closed in a painfully optimistic manner, somehow still sporting the same, contented smile. “Darn. That's alright. Didn't hurt to try, after all.”

I give a quiet, empty laugh. The walk continues, now even more silent than before, our footsteps constantly reminiscent of the ordeal that we've both taken to. It would be a lot easier if we were – if I, could make things easier on us both. But that's my problem, not her's.

Do you ever wonder what her problem is, then?

I swallow, wringing my hands against each other in my jacket pocket. Maybe that's it. Maybe I'm just being selfish. Maybe I'm just afraid to try, and risk losing something in a game of chance. Though I could change that if I wanted to.

Why not?

After all, my heart says. What have you got to lose?

Other than your best f –

I shake my head at the images rushing to mind, sighing away a small, aching pain. I'll solve all of this, and deal with it. Eventually, I suppose.

Awesome to see this continued, I had forgotten about it. It looks Natsume at least knows she likes Naomi back, and is now just trying to figure out if taking the next step is worth it. Normally a plot line I really don't like, but it works here.

AntonSlavik020 wrote:Awesome to see this continued, I had forgotten about it. It looks Natsume at least knows she likes Naomi back, and is now just trying to figure out if taking the next step is worth it. Normally a plot line I really don't like, but it works here.

Yeah, I usually don't like it either. But I love making things work when they shouldn't, especially in writing, so here's to the long story ahead.

It's not as restricted of a plot as it may seem, I assure you.

Great work with the back and forth banter; definitely seems to be one of your fortes.

And I'm all for lesbians, but Natsume's fears are very realistic. Risking your friendship for a potentially controversial relationship is kind of a Big DealTM.

Can't figure out how to do superscripts on this thing.

Hmmm. This is certainly different from what I imagined. Can't say I can complain...

Mahorfeus wrote:Great work with the back and forth banter; definitely seems to be one of your fortes.

And I'm all for lesbians, but Natsume's fears are very realistic. Risking your friendship for a potentially controversial relationship is kind of a Big DealTM.

Can't figure out how to do superscripts on this thing.

The best part is, you can take 'controversial' in a couple of different senses. Mostly social ones (if not all), but still. It depends on how you look at it.

Fun fact: If you're on a MacBook, you can alt/option + 2 and it makes a ™. Yay, keyboards.

KeiichiO wrote:Hmmm. This is certainly different from what I imagined. Can't say I can complain...

Me neither. It's a good thing, though.

Glad to see this fic return! If you're looking for edits, you put face instead of fact in the second full paragraph. If you weren't looking for them, well too bad, you got one.

motokid108 wrote:Glad to see this fic return! If you're looking for edits, you put face instead of fact in the second full paragraph. If you weren't looking for them, well too bad, you got one.

Much appreciated.

Did a little happy dance in my chair to see this updated, and I'd say it was worth the wait

It feels a lot darker than the previous chapter. A lot more serious with an almost bad omen surrounding it. I'm gonna go ahead and blame that on the weather outside Natsume's window,

Whatever I say, I bloody loved it, pal

Munchenhausen wrote:Did a little happy dance in my chair to see this updated, and I'd say it was worth the wait

It feels a lot darker than the previous chapter. A lot more serious with an almost bad omen surrounding it. I'm gonna go ahead and blame that on the weather outside Natsume's window,

Whatever I say, I bloody loved it, pal

I'm working on chapter three right now, so that I hopefully won't be stalled that much by my senior project (and Dark Souls II). That way, I might be able to manage a schedule, or some semblance to one, in the near future. Which would be a good thing to have.

Yeah, and weather does...stuff. It's another one of those things that you can take as you will. Some people like rain, some don't.

Oh yeah, Dark Souls II is coming out this week... heh heh. I don't imagine that being very distracting at all.

Chapter Three: Joseki

“Here, take this and pass it down. You'll be working in study groups for this assignment, and no larger than three.”

Akio stiffens at Mutou's words, and I notice his hand inching towards his open backpack, his rather large, hardcover novel stuffed behind a number of folders and papers. Naomi simply puffs her cheeks and blows some hair to the side, flipping through the pages of her notebook, having decided beforehand who her partner was. The same partner for every group assignment, actually.

I suppose this is another one of those things I'm not supposed to mind.

The packets of schoolwork fall from Mutou's hands and onto Haruhiko's desk, its occupant tinged with slight, growing dislike. Sounds, of the shuffling of binders and writing utensils, envelop the classroom, punctured by the hopeful gazes of potential study partners – as Haruhiko passes on the packets to Misaki, to me, to Naomi. And so, distribution continues, only pausing on the occasional, inattentive student. In particular, Akio.

“Alright, alright!” Scowling, Akio closes his book, handing the packets to an impatient Shizune. “It's not like I wanted to keep these, anyhow,” he adds, only to be met by her continually frustrated frown.

Mutou runs the length of the board with his chalk, dotting its surface with numerous white marks and sketches. After finishing, he turns, casting a gaze across our silent attempts to organize our small islands of isolated desks and chairs.. If he didn't play the part so naturally, I'd have thought he hadn't gotten his coffee this morning – with the tired demeanor and all. Surprised he hasn't broken into a yawn yet.

“Everyone,” he says, with a slight frown, idly waving his hand to attract our attention. “You've all got the test next week, so you should use this chance to share some knowledge with each other. And if you make well with your time, this class period should be easier to appreciate.”

A small, yet not-so-silent minority of the class lets loose the typical sigh of dubiety, others offering the straightening of posture in what might be, against all likeliness, a want of labor. Mutou pauses, as though detached, and stuffs his hands into the loosely hung pockets on the lower half of his trenchcoat.

“Anyways,” he continues. “That's about it, really. Go ahead and get into groups, just make sure to turn your work in at the end of the period.”

“Naomi,” I moan, into the suddenly chatter-bustling atmosphere, throwing my notebook onto my desk. “Partners.”

“Oh, of course,” she replies, smiling. “Our third?”

I glance around the classroom and exhale, deflated. Other than Shizune, no one looks like they want to do work this morning – which doesn't help us in the slightest. Of course, Akio might be worth a shot asking, and Haruhiko as well, if the two aren't destined to work with each other already. But they're slim chances to begin with, and I'd rather save my hopefulness for something more worthwhile.

Some hair falls in front of my glasses mid-reverie, and I musingly twist it around my fingers. Had Hanako been present at all, we'd offer her our help, though it's not normally in her nature to take up on such requests. Which is understandable. It's just a bit hard to ignore someone in a desk directly adjacent to one's own, despite that person's necessity of introversion. I mean, Naomi and I would welcome her if she were able to attend class more often. She looks like she could use some company.

...Or a lot of it.

I shake my head, throwing myself off of my growing absentmindedness. “Uh, I haven't thought of anyone. Have you?”

Naomi shrugs, looking around the room. “Not really,” she says. “Everyone's pretty much the same as we are, in the sense that they figure out their group members beforehand.”

“Alright,” I mumble. My arms cross, hopefully in a way that doesn't entice others into the assumption that slacking off is on my high list of priorities today. “I guess we should just start working, then. Maybe our loneliness might attract the unfortunate amongst those who couldn't quite find any better luck than we did.”

“You're cynical,” Naomi giggles. Her fingers lightly prod the insides of her pencil case, searching for some writing utensil of preference. “But, that's probably for the best. I'll work on ahead then, so we can compare answers afterwards.”

I nod, setting my pen on the top of my packet, slowly scribbling my name on the thin line rested across the page. Most of the questions early on seem to be related to derivatives, and the later ones anti-derivatives – ending with a section of multiple choice to finish. It doesn't seem entirely unconquerable, but the typical adolescent attention span might have something to say otherwise.

I run my thumb across the side of the packet, listening for its thickness, wincing. Unfortunately, my general being spells out typical adolescent quite nicely.

This might take a while.

“Yeah,” says my companion, interrupting my train of thought. I glance, and see Naomi wearing a worried expression, a bit put off. “I was thinking the same thing, too.”

“Then I'm assuming you'd like to split the pages.”

“I...I think so.”

She smiles. “But if you need help, just ask. We're working on this in cooperation, after all.”

“Oh, sure.” My pen circles one of the answers in the English multiple choice. “I would love to try racing to the last page with you,” I mutter, helping myself to a smirk.

Naomi lightly swats at my wrist with her hand. “Cynical,” she teases, giggling.

Our eyes meet, briefly, as she goes on to starting her half of the packet work. I sigh, taking my attention away from Naomi, reverting it back to the packet as well. I'll at least have some fun with this by trying to beat her in terms of speed. Not that I was actually challenging her to anything, anyways, but it would be more humorous if I took myself more seriously than intended.

If only I could face some of my other problems with the same logic.

My hand immediately flies to my face, frustrated at my brain, flattening itself and my glasses against my head.

God, I really should lay low on the pessimism.


***


“So, you raise the exponent by one, and divide the entire variable by that new number. If I remember correctly, that's how you find the derivative.”

I click my pen, slacking my jaw, leaning an elbow against my desk. “Isn't that the anti-derivative, Naomi?”

“Really?” Naomi's posture loosens, as she straightens in her chair, dropping a hand on top of her chest. “Oh, sorry. I got confused there for a second. Thanks for catching me.”

I shrug, clicking my pen out of boredom. The click dissolves into the discussions of the students surrounding us. “It's fine. If I were more adept at math, I suppose we would be more even. The fact is that my proficiency in the greek alphabet is as lacking as my ability in its numeric substitution. You see the problem here, right?”

“Yes, I do,” she giggles. “Oh, well. Physics aren't as bad as you think. I can try to help you another time if you really need it.”

I slouch in resignation, nodding. You're far too kind, Inoue.

Bleep.

My back straightens, and I look down towards the inside of my duffel bag, spotting a familiar, vibrating glow. I quickly shove my hand inside, digging around the stacks of paper and notebooks, pulling from its depths the plastic-like solidity of my cellphone and flipping it open, curious. No one really ever texts me except Naomi.

“Hey, are you guys almost finished with work? Bored out of my mind. Should relax before test.”

I peek over to the side, to a couple seats down in the row ahead. Ah. The almighty condescending omniscience, Akio Hayashi himself. Leaned over his desk, a phone hidden behind a book.

Reaching over, I show Naomi the text message, to which she simply looks at me in what appears to be concern. Upon quickly analyzing her eyes, I nod.

“Suspicious, I know.” I move some hair to the side of my glasses, to avoid blocking the view of my cellphone. “It's not every day he consciously decides to be nice, much less a host.”

She gives me a nod back. “I could go out for some tea. It would be relaxing enough, if he doesn't mind. But there's the article we have to finish with Mutou. We need to get some papers from him about the school budget, don't we?”

Oh, what.

I flip my phone closed, swallowing, annoyed. That's another notch on my forget-to-do list. I guess I'll put that off for later for when I'm not being enticed by liquid ecstacy.

Well, I was eager for the taste of the Kagoshima Prefecture on my lips. Now it's tainted by guilt.

“That's fine. I'll grab the papers and work on them another time. It's not like it's supposed to be finished tomorrow, anyways.”

“If you insist, sure.” Naomi takes my share of the packet off my desk, neatly filing the respective halves together. “So we should just give this to him at the end of class? We're pretty much done with the assignment.”

“Yes,” I groan, holding my head in my hand. “Take it away from me. It's too early in the morning for this.”

“Oh, the durability of your work ethic,” she giggles, adjusting her sleeves. “It's ridiculous. Though it does make way for your sarcastic side once it wears, so don't take it as a bad trait. I happen to love it, okay?”

I roll my eyes, shrugging, still pressing my hand against my face. Not very often someone appreciates my inherently occasional slacking. In my defense, it really is far too early in the morning, mostly because of that all-nighter I pulled with Naomi. I'm hardly in any position to regret it, though.

After a while, Naomi finishes piling the papers on her desk, turning to face me. “Hey, Natsume,” she mutters, trailing off, as though initially forward and now hesitant in her choice of words. I notice her posture change subtly – the figure one holds when welling in reminiscence.

I raise an eyebrow in concern. This is odd. She doesn't do this often, unless something's on her mind. “Yes?” I ask warily.

Our pause hangs a silence between us, briefly distancing ourselves from the internal capsulation of the classroom. Immediately, I feel lost, wondering where I take place in this thought process I'm not being informed of. I lean forward, hoping to reach out my concern for Naomi as much as possible.

“Naomi, is there a problem?” I ask again, still concerned. Roughly translated, I might as well should've asked what she's thinking about. It would be a more direct, if not rather crude approach to the answer I'm looking for. “Naomi?”

Naomi blinks, slowly gaining the composure lost in the brief span of time, of what must have literally been a couple of seconds. She shakes her head, playing into the frame of her new, recovered self. “Sorry. I was just thinking about something. About tea.”

“Mm,” I reply, acknowledging. Of course you were thinking about something. “What were you trying to figure out?”

I refrain from adding anything referring to the short-lived though extremely tangible mood shift. She frowns, biting her bottom lip, falling into more easily observable conscious thought.

“Does - does Akio know what time we'll be going for tea?” she says, sticking her tongue into her cheek. “I might have to reschedule some things for tomorrow if it's in the evening. I was thinking we could get our work done then.”

“The article?” I accidentally slip into a half-octave higher. The guilt is already starting to nip at me, an experience that I'm not enjoying at all at the moment. It's as though this project's an annoying fish that writhes without oxygen and refuses to release my finger and finish itself off. I ponder over the chances of us leaving early in the morning, which are slim to none. “Let me ask Akio first. If it's in the afternoon, we can make it back in time for some newspaper work.”

I flip my phone open, thumbs darting around the keypad. If only I'd had time to plan ahead, we – er, I wouldn't be procrastinating so much. I'm sure we can finish the article in a couple of days at the very least, even if we fit in some work tomorrow, so the deadline should give Naomi and I a day of rest that I know very well we could both use.

A couple of minutes pass, without a reply. Naomi and I decide to review and go back and forth on a couple more problems, looking over more of our notes, comparing answers. Nothing really happens in the time left in class, and as the period goes on, more and more people finish up their work – all the more socialization between the work-weary students. But, Mutou doesn't seem to mind. As with many things in his professional life.

I take the time to rest my head in my arms, on my desk, reflecting on minutes past. I was so excited by the promises of tea that I'd forgotten about the article Naomi and I had to write for a brief moment. But, I really do wonder what we can accomplish tomorrow. I guess if we make it back by evening, a lot. Though I'd honestly prefer to distance myself as much as possible for any sort of mental laboring tomorrow. Just for tomorrow.

I sigh into my sleeves, noting Naomi writing fervently into her planner. I feel tired. I need sleep.

The bell rings, and Naomi and I pack our respective belongings, stuffing our notebooks in our bags. Akio rises from his desk, neatly, as though prompting to leave the classroom since the beginning of class.

“Hey,” he calls, taking a couple steps towards our desks. “I got your text. I was thinking tomorrow afternoon, but I can adjust if you guys need to accommodate...things.”

He struggles for a second, trying to generalize whatever plans we might have that he's out of the loop on. Naomi slides her backpack on her back. “Does earlier in afternoon work? Like, maybe a little after lunch. So we can have an appetite and still have enough time to talk if we need to.”

She looks at me, and I shrug. “I haven't any plans, other than to fit into your schedules,” I answer, “or other than that Naomi and I will be doing some project-related work afterwards. So feel free to do with my time as you please. What's mine is yours, and equivocally vice versa.”

Akio massages his neck, keeping one hand on his cane.

“Somehow you're laid-back and still busy every time I see you,” he says. Akio sighs, dropping his arm to his side. “Well, I have to play catch-up and study for the test. You guys want to come to the library for some more review?”

I shake my head, in quiet rejection. “I'm a little tired, Akio. Naomi?”

Naomi giggles. “Believe her, Akio. Natsume, I'm actually going to go study for a bit. I'll see you later, okay?

I nod, unable to escape the feeling of being left out, and she follows Akio as he makes his way across the classroom, joining the dispersing crowd. Slowing down, she turns, waving, and I wave back, cupping my hands around my mouth for effect.

“I'll catch up soon, and I'll text you later after lunch.”

“Don't worry. You need the rest, Natsume!”

I smile, swallowing, feeling her concern cutting into my chest like a knife. “Thanks,” I mouth, near-soundlessly.

Naomi smiles back, as she walks with the crowd out the classroom door. Double-checking our papers, I grab the whole of the assignment and walk calmly to Mutou's desk, dropping it onto his desk. His eyes immediately raise and pick up on my presence.

“Ah, Natsume.” He reaches into a drawer, pulling out some laminated sheets of paper. “These are for you. Some more information I could pull for your project.”

I bow, feeling a little too formal for my own good. “Thanks, Mutou,” I say, brushing my hair out of my eyes. “It means a lot.”

“Don't worry about it. Come back if you need something, and I'll see if I can help.”

I take a deep breath, grabbing the strap of my duffel bag. If I need something, and I most likely will.

“Thanks, again,” I repeat. “I'm going to go...rest, for a little while.”

He nods. “Sure. Give my regards to Inoue when you get the chance.”

On his words, I bow one last time for good measure. Satisfied, I exit the room, heading towards the opposite direction of the trickling number of students passing by – towards the dorms.

I reflect lightly over the course of the class period. Naomi and I will most definitely be coming back quite a few times. Hopefully it won't be testing any limits of ours. And, speaking of Naomi, I hope she's okay. She seemed a little too deep in thought for me to not be worried about her.

I put my hand on the railings of the hallway, dragging my hand across the wood finish. I guess I'll have to see what she has planned for tomorrow, whatever that may be. I can't say that I'm not anxious for tea, however. I'll enjoy the short reprieve from school, in our small little group. Eager to spend a couple hours away from my...troubles.

Perhaps, a little too eager for tomorrow.



**



“That's fine. I'll grab the papers and work on them another time. It's not like it's supposed to be finished tomorrow, anyways.”

Natsume looks into the distance, appearing uneasy. I think she's trying to subvert her conscience from how she hasn't prioritized our newspaper article. But I know she needs more rest than she thinks she does. Mentally, if anything.

“If you insist, sure,” I reply, taking her packet work off of her desk, filing them together. “So we should just give this to him at the end of class? We're pretty much done with the assignment.”

She groans, holding her head in her hand. “Yes, take it away from me. It's too early in the morning for this.”

Her pain-inflicted timbre brings to mind a dying animal – a Natsume crushed to death by fatigue and academic workloads. The image makes me laugh, and I openly do so, hoping that it plays off some of her stress.

“Oh, the durability of your work ethic,” I giggle, taking my chances with a joke. “It's ridiculous.” Laughing still, I lean towards her, trying to comfort her with some verbal reinforcement, as she oft does with her self-critique. “Though it does make way for your sarcastic side once it wears, so don't take it as a bad trait. I happen to love it, okay?”

Love.

The word slips, and I slowly retract, straightening back into my seat. That was a mistake. I didn't mean to say that so...openly. Hopefully, Natsume's not offended in any way – I mean, knowing her, she's rather sensitive about our relationship with each other, but hopefully she saw that more figuratively than I might have come across. I don't want to step past any more lines than I need to.

I clench my fists, pulling back to avoid digging my nails into my palm. I hate having to walk around this all the time. I just want to settle these things between us. Sometimes, I could care less if she said yes or no – though I'd prefer a yes, ultimately. At the very least, I just wish she'd say...something.

I take a deep breath, distracting myself briefly by filing our packet into further neatness. Throwing a glance at Natsume, it seems that she's just thinking, still holding her head in hand. Everything is fine, at the moment. I ponder over my options of when I might be able to talk her. We should both have free time after tea tomorrow, depending on how long we decide to stay out. But I won't get any time to talk to her alone if we spend the entire day with Akio.

Perhaps I could...just ask?

“Hey, Natsume,” I start, turning to face my best friend. Her eyes meet mine, and I falter, the rest of the sentence hanging in my throat. My voice trails off, reminding me how afraid I am of stepping on these thinly painted lines between us.

Natsume raises an eyebrow. “Yes?” she asks. In my head, I realize the tactlessness of a question like this in the middle of class, planning to discuss something so personal out in the open. I shouldn't have bothered. Not that I would have known ahead of time the right way to do things. Even so, that was stupid of me.

But, still. I should tell her that I just want to talk to her. To tell her that I'm...serious. About what I want to be with her. And maybe convince her it'll be alright, if she's worried. I need to ask if she feels the same way. I mean, I don't want to be selfish. But I have to let her know that it hurts having to wait so long, being held in suspense over a single answer. She deserves to know how I feel, and I can't keep this on my chest for much longer – it hurts, and it's a lot to handle alone.

...I wonder if she remembers what I told her that day in the Nurse's office. Maybe I should ask her about that, too, if she really –

“Naomi?”

I blink, finding myself in my seat again. Natsume's leaned on her knees, bent forward, a mix of concern and confusion on her face. Looking into her eyes, I can see that she's trying hard to figure out what I'm thinking about.

You know...it's really not the right time.

I shake my head. “Sorry. I was just thinking about something. About tea.”

“Mm. What were you trying to figure out?”

I bite my lip, trying to come up with a sufficient response, and a lightbulb in my head goes off. I can solve Natsume's problem and still have some time to spend with her, after all.

“Does - does Akio know what time we'll be going for tea?” I ask. “I might have to reschedule some things for tomorrow if it's in the evening. I was thinking we could get our work done then.”

“The article?” Her voice raises unnaturally, subtly taken off-guard that I've brought up this specific topic. She develops a squint in her eyes, the kind that sets her clockwork going off on her hard, analytical side. The side I've been working with for so long.

Internally, I smile. Not very often that something gets through her pseudo-lackadaisical shell. But I know she has priorities, and she takes care of them...rather well. So I hope she appreciates this in the long run.

Natsume, turning back to me, takes out her phone. “Let me ask Akio first. If it's in the afternoon, we can make it back in time for some newspaper work.”

I nod, relieved, staring at our packet as she texts Akio at a busy pace. Akio doesn't seem to be the type that minds being so malleable, so he shouldn't have much issue with the schedule. He's more lax than Natsume, sure, though school isn't of much importance to him. He's an avid reader, if anything.

I flip through the packet, watching the substance of this class period passing by at a rapid pace. We should go over these, to make sure everything's correct. We have a lot of time on our hands, even if it doesn't always seem like the case. With how much has passed already.

So, we should make the most of what we have left.

Maybe it's just me being dead tired, but this chapter felt very hard to read...
Some parts of the dialogue felt a bit... unnatural? stilted? e.g.

“But the levels of insatiability your body has frequented as of recent is beginning to worry me, Naomi.”

Also, in this story Mutou seems to be teaching English, economics and maths besides science...

I expect nothing more than the seedling of which had already minimally sprouted...

Either there's too much or too little in this sentence. I'm not quite sure what you want to say.

Mirage_GSM wrote:Maybe it's just me being dead tired, but this chapter felt very hard to read...
Some parts of the dialogue felt a bit... unnatural? stilted?

Hmmm, yes. I wanted to get to know Natsume better, but the words kept getting in the way. It's as if some kind of reverse Asian<->English error script was in operation. Needs a tad more editing, perhaps.

Mirage_GSM wrote:Maybe it's just me being dead tired, but this chapter felt very hard to read...
Some parts of the dialogue felt a bit... unnatural? stilted?

Also, in this story Mutou seems to be teaching English, economics and maths besides science...

I apologize about the dialogue. Guess this go around didn't turn out as favorably as I'd have liked it to.

And despite knowing about teacher rotations, it escaped my mind throughout this entire chapter. That was full-blown human error, there...

brythain wrote: Hmmm, yes. I wanted to get to know Natsume better, but the words kept getting in the way. It's as if some kind of reverse Asian<->English error script was in operation. Needs a tad more editing, perhaps.

The original draft had a completely different approach to the chapter, but in the end, it didn't work out ('it' being a change of perspective at two different points), so I changed a lot of it to accommodate for what was removed. Though, what I added didn't address the lack of substance at all. The edits should be coming in some time between now and the fourth chapter, so after then, I'll be able to get some sleep at night.

The input is always appreciated, of course, even if it burns and makes me want to kiss desks with my forehead. Progress is a painful process indeed. For everyone's sake, and the story's, I'll work on minimizing at least one side of the spectrum of hurt. My thanks again.