The earth moves, and Yamaku moves with it.
Prologue: Foreshocks (this post)
Chapter 1: Epicentre
Prologue: Foreshocks
“Thank you very much to the third-years of the Yamaku Music Club, for their beautiful rendition of the Academy song.”
Another thunderous round of applause fills the gymnasium, echoing off the bare steel trusses and lacquered wood floorboards. The musicians in question, high up on the wide, open stage, take their bows, clutching violins, trumpets, flutes, and all manner of different instruments.
The cacophony slowly fades as the club members depart the stage, some wheeling themselves to specially constructed ramps, others on crutches, or assisted by other students, arm in arm. It takes a little time, but the stage is eventually emptied, save for the Student Council President at the podium, flanked by her Vice-President and sign-language interpreter.
The president’s voice, clear as water and brimming with self-assuredness, resounds from the speakers.
“Now, we move to the Student Council handover ceremony, where we will pass on the great responsibilities of council leadership to our duly elected successors.”
Misha’s neck begins to turn a little sweaty. It’s not stage fright, but she still feels a bit out of place as one of the only two second-years at the graduation ceremony, surrounded by third-years about to embark on the next stage of life’s journey.
It brings her anxieties into sharp relief. This time next year, it will be her up on that stage, preparing to leave for the wide world beyond, and she still has absolutely no clue what she’s going to do.
Misha’s hands move reflexively, translating the president’s speech to no one in particular. She looks to her right at Shizune, who’s watching the president and her interpreter with rapt attention.
“Being President of the Student Council has been both a privilege and an honour, especially at a school as unique as Yamaku Academy. We were faced with many challenges this year, but I am proud of how well this council has surmounted every obstacle in budgets, administration, and relations with the Foundation and higher staff. I am sure that the trust the staff and students of this academy have placed in me, and the council, has not been misplaced.”
The current president’s a nice person and all, but, as her speech goes on, Misha can’t help but feel it’s all a little too… flowery.
Maybe that’s why Shizune is so engrossed, Misha muses, because she hopes to emulate the president’s style for her graduation speech next year.
A small smile creeps onto the pink-haired girl’s lips.
“We now invite the president-elect of next year’s council, Shizune Hakamichi, and the vice-president-elect, Shiina Mikado, to the stage.”
Jolted from her thoughts, Misha scrambles to her feet, quickly falling in behind Shizune who leads the way to the stage with graceful, measured strides.
Waiting to meet them is the president and vice-president, standing side by side, hands clasped in front of their waists.
Misha and Shizune turn to face them, and all four girls bow before approaching one another.
Stepping up to the outgoing vice-president, with her boy-cut brown hair and black eyepatch on her right eye, Misha shakes her hand.
Suddenly, the vice-president leans in and quietly whispers in Misha’s ear.
“You’ll do great, Misha, I know it.”
Caught a little off guard, the girl can only blush and stammer out a response.
“Ahh… t-thank you, Naoko-senpai.”
They’ve been great leaders, even if their relationship was sometimes soured by Shizune’s… assertive attitude. Misha’s going to miss them.
Breaking their grasp, the president and Shizune turn back towards the crowd, with Misha following.
“Congratulations to Hakamichi and Mikado for winning this year’s elections. We wish them all the best in their stewardship of the council.”
The thunderous applause washes over them once more, the cameras at the back of the gymnasium flashing like stars.
For the first time, Misha’s actually a little excited for the future. A leadership position with her best friend in the lead, a job she knows Shizune will be awesome at.
Maybe this year will be alright.
“Runners, find your marks!”
The brand-new track team captain’s barked order cuts through the idle chatter of the athletes, who promptly break from the disordered gaggle where they’d been warming up and move quickly to the maroon running track.
A few sprightly souls can’t help but rib the newly minted club leader as they storm past.
“You’ve been working on that voice of yours, haven’t you, Captain Kenta?”
“Ah, shaddup, Hana.”
Emi lets out a chortle, her twin blades bouncing as she jogs into position.
The air is brisk but unusually cold, pricking her exposed skin. Short sleeves are certainly not suitable winter athletics attire, but the current queen of the academy’s track team is not about to handicap herself with something as bulky as a jacket, damn the consequences.
Arriving at the white line, Emi’s eyes do a quick sweep of the track, of the small piles of snow clinging to the bleachers or the branches of bare trees, before refocusing her gaze down to the one thing that matters.
The finish line.
Emi closes her eyes, steadying her breathing, opening them again to focus down the two white lines that are her boundary, leading to her prize at the very end.
She bounces on each leg, flexing them, readying them for-
“Is first place gonna be yours again, Fastest Thing On No Legs, hm?”
Her concentration broken, Emi can’t help but let out an annoyed huff. A tall shadow passes to the right of her field of view, but the voice alone gives it away.
Her again. How long is this bullshit going to go on for?
Bending over to test and adjust her footing, Emi lets fly with her own barb, disdain saturating her tone.
“You’ll know it when you see it, Miki.”
What was that motto those English suffragettes once used? ‘Deeds, not words?’ Something to that effect.
Miki can talk whatever game she likes, Emi tells herself. The rankings will speak for themselves. They already do speak for themselves, incidentally, which is why Emi is having to use all her willpower not to verbally demolish the one-handed smart alec. Again.
“The higher the pride, the longer the fall…”
The smarminess in Miki’s voice almost sets Emi off. Anger floods her veins.
Breathe, girl, she’s just trying to get a rise out of you to throw you off your game. Don’t fall for it.
Inhaling and exhaling several times, Emi manages to get her heart rate under control.
Keeping her voice steady, she tries to get the other girl to buzz off.
“Run the race first, then talk shit to me.”
There’s dead silence for a few moments. Emi can feel the eyes of the entire team on both her and Miki, silently watching the drama unfolding before them.
The tension between them almost seems to be crackling, daring each other to make a move.
Silence.
Then, finally, Miki backs off, her shadow disappearing from Emi’s peripheral vision with a parting jab.
“We’ll see, Emi, we’ll see.”
The tanned girl strolls away to her position, snickering to herself.
“Tch…”
Trying to shake the interaction from her mind, Emi stands back up, locking her eyes on the goal once again, sealing herself in that world where there is nothing but her, and the track.
Where she can be free.
The piercing voice of the captain pulls her out of it again.
“Alrighty people, consider this your last race of the school year. Exams are just around the corner, so if you want to cement those rankings to better rub it in everyone else’s faces during Spring Break, I advise you to put in your best shot now.”
There’s some scattered laughter from the team, but the captain’s trademark jokes only seem to inflame the tension between the top two competitors.
Her eyes narrow.
The stakes have been upped. Now she has to win this race.
“100-meter sprint, people, nothing too fancy. Listen to the commands.”
Blocking out everyone else around her, the seven or so other girls on either flank. It’s her, and the finish line.
Nothing else.
“Ready…”
The athletes bend as one, hands finding their place on the rough texture of the track.
Emi looks down one last time, adjusting, then snaps her head back up.
Let’s do this.
“Set…”
“Tea, Hanako?”
Lilly’s voice shakes the girl from her reverie.
Her friend is standing before her, a white ceramic pot held carefully in the dainty fingers of both her hands.
“A-ah… y-yes please, thank you. I-I can pour, if you want”
Lilly smiles and shakes her head.
“No, no, I’ll pour this time Hanako. Thank you for offering.”
With a familiar fluidity, Lilly gently places the pot down on the table, her fingers delicately tracing the rims of the teacups. Moving them side by side with a soft clink, she picks up the pot and begins to pour, the other pinky finger testing the height of the liquid.
It’s a ritual both girls have been party to on hundreds of separate occasions. For Hanako, seeing this blind, blonde girl pour tea with better grace and precision than most sighted people has become a fact of life.
With both cups full, Lilly slides one over to Hanako, the gentle fragrance of the tea quickly filling the air.
“It’s just ordinary green tea, but I feel that it’s good to sometimes return to the ordinary every now and then.”
Hanako gingerly lifts her cup to her lips, taking a sip of the floral, lightly bitter brew.
“I-It’s perfect Lilly, thank you.”
The blonde girl gives a satisfied smile as she too sips from her cup.
“It’s nice to be able to do this in the early afternoon for a change. Half-days are such a rarity, so we must be thankful for the third year’s graduation.”
Oh, right. That brings up a point Hanako has been meaning to ask.
“I-Isn’t the whole student council supposed to attend the graduation ceremony?”
Lilly’s smile turns cheeky.
“Only the incoming president and vice-president. The little workers like us can relax and soak in the afternoon sun.”
Hanako can’t help but smile at that, too. The less time she spends in the classroom, the better.
Lilly sets down her teacup.
“Have you finished reading anything interesting this week, Hanako?”
The innocent, ordinary question surprises the girl.
“A-Ah… y-yeah…”
She’d rather not talk about it right now, to be honest.
Oblivious, Lilly plows on.
“What book was it?”
Shame begins to burn within Hanako’s heart. Her voice trembles.
“Ehm… n-nothing in particular…”
The slightest touch of a frown seems to cloud Lilly’s face before she corrects her expression, a gentle, comforting smile once again upon her lips.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Hanako, but I promise you I will not judge.”
Well.
In a tiny voice, she silently admits the truth.
“S-Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes…”
At this, Lilly’s head tilts.
“Ah… isn’t that supposed to be a children’s novel?”
Caught, her embarrassment blooms fully, a bright red flush spreading across her face.
“Y-yes.”
Lilly opens her mouth, but before she can get a word out, Hanako scrambles to explain herself.
“I n-never got the chance to read it when I was in e-elementary school… so I wanted to f-find out what it was about…”
Hanako dips her head, even though her friend can’t see her expression.
Lilly appears to put two and two together, and her face suddenly turns apologetic.
“Ahh. I understand now. Sorry, Hanako, if I offended you. Whether or not it’s a children’s novel, it’s a beautiful work to read.”
The air turns somewhat awkward; both evidently had the wrong idea going into this conversation.
Thankfully, Lilly breaks the spell by adjusting in her seat and speaking once more.
“Did you like it?”
That’s a complicated question. Hanako doesn’t really know herself.
“W-well… it wasn’t bad… it was just a bit too… m-melodramatic…”
It seems a bit of a faux pas to be so critical of a book about a young teenage girl dying of cancer after being caught in the blast of an atom bomb, but it’s her true feelings.
“A-and I read elsewhere that it’s n-not very accurate… apparently the real-life S-Sadako finished way more than one thousand c-cranes before she died, which… kind of took the impact out of t-the ending…”
At this, Lilly raises her eyebrows in surprise.
“I did not know that, Hanako. I suppose it’s a good habit to question the assumptions one is taught at an early age. Well done for finding that out.”
Hanako’s face once again turns red, this time, at the praise.
It’s… nice.
Suddenly, Lilly’s eyebrows shoot up, as though she’s just remembered something.
“Speaking of cranes…”
There’s the sound of her chair being moved on the carpet, and she stands and starts to turn for the door.
“I’m going to my dorm room to collect something. I’ll be right back.”
Caught off-guard by this abrupt declaration, Hanako stands up, too.
“I-I can come with you, Lilly.”
Lilly turns her head to her, the motherly smile which defines the tall blonde playing on her lips.
“It’s okay, Hanako. Enjoy your tea. I’ll only be out for a few minutes.”
Leaving the still-steaming cup of tea on the table, Lilly reaches for and extends her cane as Hanako resumes her seat.
Hands around her teacup, she watches as her best friend gracefully moves for the sliding door, her fingers finding the latch as she moves it aside and steps out into the hallway.
There’s a small shunk as the door is closed on Hanako, the muted, rhythmic tapping of Lilly’s cane echoing down the hallway until it disappears.
Leaving her alone.
In the silence.
Except for the ticking of the classroom clock.
For some reason, Hanako turns her head to read the time.
2:45pm.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
…
It’s…
…eerie…
Trying something a little experimental.
The premise is simple. The cast of KS is moved from the 'canon' setting of 2007 to a certain day in early March, 2011.
All else will follow.
Stay safe, everyone.