Persistence (OC Story)
Posted: Sat Feb 23, 2013 7:18 am
I had an idea for a character, and now he has a story. Just so you know, my other fanfic is still alive, but I wanted to start this one before I forgot anything about it. So, without any further ado, here is Persistence.
I’m heading towards the school. My pace is slower than usual. Mostly because I don’t want to be here. Unfortunately, I don’t have a choice. My parents’ decision to send me here doesn’t even make any sense. This is a school for the disabled, but I don’t have a disability. I went to a different school last year, and another school the year before that. This is the first time, though, that my change in school wasn’t brought on by us moving.
No, my parents want me to learn to be independent. Well, they wanted that last year, but I didn’t know enough Japanese to get around by myself. That’s why, last year, I went to a school that specializes in teaching Japanese to Americans, like me. I’ve usually been decent at learning other languages, but those that I learned were Latin-based. I can get through some basic conversation, but I usually have to pull out my phone and start using online translators.
I think my dad mentioned something about this new school, Yamaku, I think it’s called, being far enough away that I would have to be self-sufficient, yet close enough that I could get help from them if I need it. It’s expensive, but I don’t think money has ever been an issue for us.
I think this is the tenth time I’ve had to switch schools. I’m not sure, I lost track a while ago. As such, I’ve never wanted to make any friends. I know that I’ll probably never see any of them again, so what’s the point? This year is no different. It’s my final year in high school. Hopefully then, I’ll be able to go back to the States. I just hope nobody tries too hard to get me to be their new friend. I’ve always hated that. I’ve had my fair share of those types of people, but I had always felt that I wouldn’t get along with them anyway. It would just be a waste of my time and theirs.
As I make it up to the top of the hill, I see some of the students going to what I assume to be their respective classes. It is the middle of the school year, after all. I’m still not used to being in school at the end of June. My new homeroom teacher is supposed to meet me. Unfortunately, I have no idea where. My parents had my stuff delivered to my room last week, for some reason. Maybe it was their way of making sure everything was packed on time. I still have some stuff in my backpack, though. Toothbrush, extra clothes, some video games. The stuff that I still needed at home.
I enter the grounds through the gate. One of the students notices me looking around and makes their way toward me. Great. I don’t want to deal with this person. I can already tell she’s crazy, what with her pink hair in some sort of downwards spiral on each side of her head.
“Kon’nichiwa!Watashinonamaehamishadesu!Anatawa, atarashikodomodesuka?” she says, louder and faster than I’d like her to.
“Please slow down,” I begin with my best Japanese, “I’m still learning the language, and can’t keep up with native speakers.”
“Wahahaha! I’m sorry! I thought you could!” she says slower, but still too loud, “My name is Misha! I would ask if you are the new kid, but I know you are now!”
This Misha girl is really strange. Every time she talks, she makes weird hand motions. It makes me wonder why she’s here. Maybe she has some disorder that causes spasming when she talks, but I don’t think one exists. I’m not sure how comfortable she is with talking about it, so I opt to change the subject, hopefully one that gets me away from this girl as soon as possible.
“Yeah, I’m the new guy. My name’s Shawn. Could you show me where the dorms are? I’ve got some stuff I’d like to drop off before I start.” I would also like to change into my uniform that my parents decided not to give me before I left. I’m wearing a Mӧtley Crüe T-shirt and a pair of jeans. I know that I’ll probably be let off the hook on my first day, but it’s going to draw unwanted attention to me.
“I don’t think there’s time, Shocchan. Class starts in five minutes.” Shocchan?
“Shocchan?” I ask, echoing my thoughts.
“Yeah! You look like a Shocchan!”
“Sorry, but I don’t think you know me well enough to start giving me a nickname.” All she responds with is a disappointed frown. “Anyway, which building are the classrooms in?”
“They’re in that one,” she says, pointing to the large building directly opposite the gate. “But I need to go do something right now. I’ll see you later, Shawn!”
Well, that’s two problems solved. I wonder why she didn’t have time to show me the dorms, but has the time to go do whatever it is she’s doing. Whatever. If she wants to be late for her class, she’s allowed to. It’s not my life.
I head into the class building, and am greeted by a man, who, since there’s no one else around, I assume to be my homeroom teacher.
“Hello. You must be Smith?”
“Yes, that’s me.” I’ve been in this country long enough to know that teachers refer to their students by last name. It’s strange, but I’ve gotten used to it. A little. We shake hands.
“My name is Mutou. I’ll be your homeroom and science teacher. I know you probably want to learn the lay of the land, so to speak, but we need to get to class. Are you going to introduce yourself?”
I didn’t want to, but I need to make it known to everybody that they need to speak slowly for me to understand them. I hope I don’t have to talk to them too often, though “I suppose so,” I say with no hint of excitement.
“Very well, then.” We start heading up the stairs to the third floor. When we arrive at the class, I note the class number in my head, just in case. 3-3. Thank God the numerals are the same here. Mutou enters the room, apologizing for his late entrance. I reluctantly follow him, and now all eyes are on me. I opt to not look at any of them. “As you can see, we have a new student. This is Shawn Smith,” he says to the class. I suppose I have to say something, now.
“Uhh, hi. My name is Shawn, and, as you can probably tell, my Japanese is not that great.” I decide to end it there. Maybe they won’t talk to me if they think it’ll be hard to do so. Mutou begins going on about acceptance and all that boring stuff. He eventually gets into the assignment for the day. Sounds like it’s group work. Oh joy. He hands out the assignment, then realizes I’m still standing at the front.
“Your seat is in the second row, by the window,” he tells me, “Unfortunately, it seems that Hakamichi and Mikado aren’t here right now. They are in the Student Council, and would be able to help you out. Feel free to work with whoever you would like to for now, though.”
I take that to mean that I’m allowed to work by myself. If need be, I’ll ask someone for help. On second thought, I probably won’t, but whatever. I take my seat, and set out to figuring this out. Unfortunately, I can’t, since it seems someone is already trying to rope me into their group.
“Hi there, I’m Miki!” she says. The only thing I notice about her is the fact that she’s missing a hand. I feel like an ass for it, so I try to avoid it. She has a nice tan, and long hair. “You seem like a smart guy, wanna be in our group?” Clearly, she didn’t get the memo that most Japanese people are smarter than most white guys. At least she knows to speak slower around me.
“I don’t think I’ll be much help,” I say as politely as I can. I just want her to go away. I start to go over the assignment, but it’s clear that she hasn’t gone away yet.
“I can tell you’re having trouble with this, maybe we can help?” She’s trying to be nice. I know, though, that it’s just because I’m the new guy. Everyone is always obligated to help the new guy. I try to come up with the best excuse I can.
“Sorry, I like to figure things out by myself.” It makes me come off as an asshole, but it got the job done. Miki sits back down, and I get to work deciphering the instructions.
By the time class is dismissed for lunch, I managed to get one whole problem done. Thank God it isn’t due at the end of class. I pack up my things and decide that the best thing to do is eat something. I haven’t eaten anything yet today, and my stomach will start sounding like a thunderstorm if I don’t get some food in there.
I go down to the first floor, where I assume the cafeteria is. Luckily, my hunch was right. I look over the menu, and order some rice cakes. The cafeteria is crowded, but I manage to find a secluded spot away from everybody. It isn’t long, though, until someone sits across from me. I’m fine with it, unless they start trying to talk to me. Which, of course, they do.
“Nazeanatawasubetejibundetabeteiru?” They must not know that I can’t understand when they talk that fast. This time, though, I try feigning deafness. It just might work in this school. After about a minute she repeats herself. After another minute, she waves her hand in front of my face to try and grab my attention. I suppose there’s no getting out of this.
She opens her mouth, most likely to repeat herself, but I cut her off. “Can you please speak slower? I can’t understand natives all that well.”
“I said, ‘Why are you eating all by yourself?’” Another person trying to be nice. I don’t like these overly nice people. They just make me uncomfortable.
“I’m eating by myself because there was nowhere else to eat,” I lie. This girl doesn’t give up talking, though.
“I’m Naomi; I’m in your class.” Why were you talking so fast, then? I told you I have trouble! I don’t actually say that, but I really want to. “Have you made any friends yet?”
“No,” I say, “I want to get to know the school first.”
“If you had a friend to show you around, everything would be easier for you,” she responds. At this, the warning bell rings, signaling everyone to get back to class. I get my bag and start on my way back to class. Naomi follows, obviously intent on talking to me. “It almost seems like you don’t want to have friends.”
“I’m heading back to the United States after I graduate, I don’t see much of a point in making friends that I will never see again,” I explain. Naomi remains silent for the rest of the trip to class.
Thankfully, the rest of the day goes without people talking to me. Word must spread quick at this school.
When class ends, I leave the building. It isn’t until now that I realize I still don’t know where the dorms are. The solution is easy enough, though. Everyone will want to get rid of their bags to enjoy the rest of the day, so I follow some guys. At a safe distance, of course. They lead me to the dorm room. I fish my key out of my bag. Room 1-1-9. I head to the room, and notice that only one other room seems to have an occupant. Not wanting to get into a conversation with this guy, I put the key into the door and turn. At this, I hear locks being undone from behind me. I quickly open the door, enter, and close the door. I look at my door, and there aren’t near as many locks as I heard the other guy undoing from his door.
I get to work on my homework. It’s not a lot, but translating will take time, and I don’t want to fall behind and get held back...again.
When I finish the homework, it’s already dark outside. This seems like it’ll work out well for me. If I don’t talk to people after class, they won’t want to talk to me during class.
I start unpacking, and get my room looking the way I want it to. Well, as best as I can get it, anyway. Once I finish unpacking, I hit the hay. I hope less people will talk to me tomorrow.
Hopefully, you enjoyed. I don't have a set schedule for updating, but I will update as often as I can. Constructive criticism always appreciated, I'm still learning.
I'm not sure how I'm doing with keeping everyone in character...
I’m heading towards the school. My pace is slower than usual. Mostly because I don’t want to be here. Unfortunately, I don’t have a choice. My parents’ decision to send me here doesn’t even make any sense. This is a school for the disabled, but I don’t have a disability. I went to a different school last year, and another school the year before that. This is the first time, though, that my change in school wasn’t brought on by us moving.
No, my parents want me to learn to be independent. Well, they wanted that last year, but I didn’t know enough Japanese to get around by myself. That’s why, last year, I went to a school that specializes in teaching Japanese to Americans, like me. I’ve usually been decent at learning other languages, but those that I learned were Latin-based. I can get through some basic conversation, but I usually have to pull out my phone and start using online translators.
I think my dad mentioned something about this new school, Yamaku, I think it’s called, being far enough away that I would have to be self-sufficient, yet close enough that I could get help from them if I need it. It’s expensive, but I don’t think money has ever been an issue for us.
I think this is the tenth time I’ve had to switch schools. I’m not sure, I lost track a while ago. As such, I’ve never wanted to make any friends. I know that I’ll probably never see any of them again, so what’s the point? This year is no different. It’s my final year in high school. Hopefully then, I’ll be able to go back to the States. I just hope nobody tries too hard to get me to be their new friend. I’ve always hated that. I’ve had my fair share of those types of people, but I had always felt that I wouldn’t get along with them anyway. It would just be a waste of my time and theirs.
As I make it up to the top of the hill, I see some of the students going to what I assume to be their respective classes. It is the middle of the school year, after all. I’m still not used to being in school at the end of June. My new homeroom teacher is supposed to meet me. Unfortunately, I have no idea where. My parents had my stuff delivered to my room last week, for some reason. Maybe it was their way of making sure everything was packed on time. I still have some stuff in my backpack, though. Toothbrush, extra clothes, some video games. The stuff that I still needed at home.
I enter the grounds through the gate. One of the students notices me looking around and makes their way toward me. Great. I don’t want to deal with this person. I can already tell she’s crazy, what with her pink hair in some sort of downwards spiral on each side of her head.
“Kon’nichiwa!Watashinonamaehamishadesu!Anatawa, atarashikodomodesuka?” she says, louder and faster than I’d like her to.
“Please slow down,” I begin with my best Japanese, “I’m still learning the language, and can’t keep up with native speakers.”
“Wahahaha! I’m sorry! I thought you could!” she says slower, but still too loud, “My name is Misha! I would ask if you are the new kid, but I know you are now!”
This Misha girl is really strange. Every time she talks, she makes weird hand motions. It makes me wonder why she’s here. Maybe she has some disorder that causes spasming when she talks, but I don’t think one exists. I’m not sure how comfortable she is with talking about it, so I opt to change the subject, hopefully one that gets me away from this girl as soon as possible.
“Yeah, I’m the new guy. My name’s Shawn. Could you show me where the dorms are? I’ve got some stuff I’d like to drop off before I start.” I would also like to change into my uniform that my parents decided not to give me before I left. I’m wearing a Mӧtley Crüe T-shirt and a pair of jeans. I know that I’ll probably be let off the hook on my first day, but it’s going to draw unwanted attention to me.
“I don’t think there’s time, Shocchan. Class starts in five minutes.” Shocchan?
“Shocchan?” I ask, echoing my thoughts.
“Yeah! You look like a Shocchan!”
“Sorry, but I don’t think you know me well enough to start giving me a nickname.” All she responds with is a disappointed frown. “Anyway, which building are the classrooms in?”
“They’re in that one,” she says, pointing to the large building directly opposite the gate. “But I need to go do something right now. I’ll see you later, Shawn!”
Well, that’s two problems solved. I wonder why she didn’t have time to show me the dorms, but has the time to go do whatever it is she’s doing. Whatever. If she wants to be late for her class, she’s allowed to. It’s not my life.
I head into the class building, and am greeted by a man, who, since there’s no one else around, I assume to be my homeroom teacher.
“Hello. You must be Smith?”
“Yes, that’s me.” I’ve been in this country long enough to know that teachers refer to their students by last name. It’s strange, but I’ve gotten used to it. A little. We shake hands.
“My name is Mutou. I’ll be your homeroom and science teacher. I know you probably want to learn the lay of the land, so to speak, but we need to get to class. Are you going to introduce yourself?”
I didn’t want to, but I need to make it known to everybody that they need to speak slowly for me to understand them. I hope I don’t have to talk to them too often, though “I suppose so,” I say with no hint of excitement.
“Very well, then.” We start heading up the stairs to the third floor. When we arrive at the class, I note the class number in my head, just in case. 3-3. Thank God the numerals are the same here. Mutou enters the room, apologizing for his late entrance. I reluctantly follow him, and now all eyes are on me. I opt to not look at any of them. “As you can see, we have a new student. This is Shawn Smith,” he says to the class. I suppose I have to say something, now.
“Uhh, hi. My name is Shawn, and, as you can probably tell, my Japanese is not that great.” I decide to end it there. Maybe they won’t talk to me if they think it’ll be hard to do so. Mutou begins going on about acceptance and all that boring stuff. He eventually gets into the assignment for the day. Sounds like it’s group work. Oh joy. He hands out the assignment, then realizes I’m still standing at the front.
“Your seat is in the second row, by the window,” he tells me, “Unfortunately, it seems that Hakamichi and Mikado aren’t here right now. They are in the Student Council, and would be able to help you out. Feel free to work with whoever you would like to for now, though.”
I take that to mean that I’m allowed to work by myself. If need be, I’ll ask someone for help. On second thought, I probably won’t, but whatever. I take my seat, and set out to figuring this out. Unfortunately, I can’t, since it seems someone is already trying to rope me into their group.
“Hi there, I’m Miki!” she says. The only thing I notice about her is the fact that she’s missing a hand. I feel like an ass for it, so I try to avoid it. She has a nice tan, and long hair. “You seem like a smart guy, wanna be in our group?” Clearly, she didn’t get the memo that most Japanese people are smarter than most white guys. At least she knows to speak slower around me.
“I don’t think I’ll be much help,” I say as politely as I can. I just want her to go away. I start to go over the assignment, but it’s clear that she hasn’t gone away yet.
“I can tell you’re having trouble with this, maybe we can help?” She’s trying to be nice. I know, though, that it’s just because I’m the new guy. Everyone is always obligated to help the new guy. I try to come up with the best excuse I can.
“Sorry, I like to figure things out by myself.” It makes me come off as an asshole, but it got the job done. Miki sits back down, and I get to work deciphering the instructions.
By the time class is dismissed for lunch, I managed to get one whole problem done. Thank God it isn’t due at the end of class. I pack up my things and decide that the best thing to do is eat something. I haven’t eaten anything yet today, and my stomach will start sounding like a thunderstorm if I don’t get some food in there.
I go down to the first floor, where I assume the cafeteria is. Luckily, my hunch was right. I look over the menu, and order some rice cakes. The cafeteria is crowded, but I manage to find a secluded spot away from everybody. It isn’t long, though, until someone sits across from me. I’m fine with it, unless they start trying to talk to me. Which, of course, they do.
“Nazeanatawasubetejibundetabeteiru?” They must not know that I can’t understand when they talk that fast. This time, though, I try feigning deafness. It just might work in this school. After about a minute she repeats herself. After another minute, she waves her hand in front of my face to try and grab my attention. I suppose there’s no getting out of this.
She opens her mouth, most likely to repeat herself, but I cut her off. “Can you please speak slower? I can’t understand natives all that well.”
“I said, ‘Why are you eating all by yourself?’” Another person trying to be nice. I don’t like these overly nice people. They just make me uncomfortable.
“I’m eating by myself because there was nowhere else to eat,” I lie. This girl doesn’t give up talking, though.
“I’m Naomi; I’m in your class.” Why were you talking so fast, then? I told you I have trouble! I don’t actually say that, but I really want to. “Have you made any friends yet?”
“No,” I say, “I want to get to know the school first.”
“If you had a friend to show you around, everything would be easier for you,” she responds. At this, the warning bell rings, signaling everyone to get back to class. I get my bag and start on my way back to class. Naomi follows, obviously intent on talking to me. “It almost seems like you don’t want to have friends.”
“I’m heading back to the United States after I graduate, I don’t see much of a point in making friends that I will never see again,” I explain. Naomi remains silent for the rest of the trip to class.
Thankfully, the rest of the day goes without people talking to me. Word must spread quick at this school.
When class ends, I leave the building. It isn’t until now that I realize I still don’t know where the dorms are. The solution is easy enough, though. Everyone will want to get rid of their bags to enjoy the rest of the day, so I follow some guys. At a safe distance, of course. They lead me to the dorm room. I fish my key out of my bag. Room 1-1-9. I head to the room, and notice that only one other room seems to have an occupant. Not wanting to get into a conversation with this guy, I put the key into the door and turn. At this, I hear locks being undone from behind me. I quickly open the door, enter, and close the door. I look at my door, and there aren’t near as many locks as I heard the other guy undoing from his door.
I get to work on my homework. It’s not a lot, but translating will take time, and I don’t want to fall behind and get held back...again.
When I finish the homework, it’s already dark outside. This seems like it’ll work out well for me. If I don’t talk to people after class, they won’t want to talk to me during class.
I start unpacking, and get my room looking the way I want it to. Well, as best as I can get it, anyway. Once I finish unpacking, I hit the hay. I hope less people will talk to me tomorrow.
Hopefully, you enjoyed. I don't have a set schedule for updating, but I will update as often as I can. Constructive criticism always appreciated, I'm still learning.
I'm not sure how I'm doing with keeping everyone in character...
