06 / 04 / 2019 - Shijo Junior High School, Daito.
"Shirakami Akane!"
The half-lids snapped up, wide open — crimson-ashen eyes luminous and bright, a faint vertical pupil visible in their depth.
Hearing his name in the silence of the room, he immediately stood up from his seat; as his view rose above the sea of students, he faced the front.
"Hai! (Yes!)"
Not a loud or strong voice, yet calm — perfectly tailored to meet their expectations. With his hands at his sides, he could only gaze towards the podium, through this stifling ceremony.
'What a hassle…'
"Masayuki Kei."
He thought aimlessly as he heard another roll call from his presumed homeroom teacher. Then again, amidst his plain face, his senses were unusually reactive to those around him.
Tiny, nervous fidgeting, the ragged, perhaps anxious breathing of children — coupled with the heavy expectations of their parents, no doubt. What a pain.
Realising that he would spend three years with this bunch of children was a bit nauseating and strange, but the problem was that he was the same age as them.
His eyebrows twitched slightly, but he kept his chin level and stood straight.
The smell of wood and wax wafted to his nose, invigorating his mind. His eyes remained open to the roll call, despite his bored thoughts, and he could only swallow it.
'I'm selfish enough to attend this despite everything, so at least, I will make the most out of it.'
Remembering what had happened yesterday and the night before, he could still feel an ache in his shoulder and whole body — masked by this uniform, full of wounds.
His eyes winced, and silence prevailed once again on this beautiful day; as his thoughts wandered, the room held its breath, signalling something.
Hence his gaze flicked to the empty side, through this vacuous gymnasium — one particular teacher, facing the podium, began a slow formal bow.
Whatever it was, there was an urge to sigh, but he kept it at bay.
Mirroring the teacher's movement in synchronisation along with the rest of the class, he bowed too — slowly, his head and eyes facing the ground for a few seconds, staring at the polished brown floorboards.
Then, lifting his head and body slowly, matching the rhythm of the room, he sat back down on his folding chair, entirely unhurried.
"As of April 6th, I hereby formally authorise the admission of these forty students into Shijo Junior High School."
'That's probably it, no?'
At long last, he thought.
Thirty minutes passed in agony — a boring, tedious monologue that seemed to serve no practical purpose beyond passing the words from one ear to the other.
It really was a struggle to keep himself awake between the pain in his body; absentminded, his mind was active despite everything, unfortunately.
Though he had shut down some functions of his mind, just enough to anchor himself to this reality — the sharp scent of floor wax drifting off towards the heat of the magma bridge.
Shrrukkkk
Snapping awake, his dim gaze slowly returned to the present, lifting his chin slightly. The heavy scraping of chairs signalled the end.
"New students, please exit."
As the words were uttered, the marching music played from the speakers all around him. Finally — his eyes tracked the homeroom teachers one by one as they walked in line.
Under his perfunctory face, they stood up and stopped right at the front of the rows of seats, facing directly towards the students. Well, he seemed to know what would come next in the itinerary.
"Class 1-A, stand!"
His lips parted slightly, letting out a small breath. His class was called, but the command didn't apply to him yet — he had to remain in his folding chair for another minute.
Some of the front row rose in a crisp, synchronised wave, stepped onto the centre aisle, and turning on their heels, began the long march towards the back exit.
Seated near the back, the line of exiting students passed directly beside him — moving in a single column like an ant colony, an inch from his shoulders.
Nervous rhythmic shuffle of indoor shoes, rigid stiff shoulders, terrified expressions — each trying their best to look forward and avoid eye contact.
And when his row was signalled, Akane finally stood up. The regenerating wounds and wounded flesh itched and protested under the sudden movement.
Stepping onto the aisle, falling into the gap behind the student in front of him — the roles now reversed — he marched towards the double doors and passed the remaining rows of seated children.
Catching their anxious, pale faces through his crimson-ashen eyes.
…
The heavy wooden sliding door of Class 1-A was left wide open, swallowing the single fine line of students as they scuttled in from the grey-white corridor.
Flicking his eyes to the right — on the massive blackboard, a seating grid was drawn in white chalk. Finding his name on it, his seat was already dictated.
Tracking it, his name was on the desk near the back window on the fifth row — certainly a cliché position, but he didn't put much thought into it.
Walking on, through the falling slant of light on the right, he sat down on the rigid wooden chair; his injured rib throbbed a jolt through his back as he settled against the backrest.
'Finally, some peace at last.'
"Huuuhhhh…"
Sighing a mouthful of white mist, he let his back slump for a bit — not caring about his surroundings anymore, desperately longing for some relaxation after the earlier tension.
Narrowing his crimson-ashen eyes, he let his gaze fall upon the bright brown wooden desk. Around him, the room filled with low, frantic murmuring — children from the same local area exchanging glances.
Trying to anchor and find familiarity in these spaces that felt foreign to them. Tuning out the noise — it was not a bad idea to enjoy this chatter rather than dwell on slaughter and carnage.
Clack
The front sliding door shut flat, and realising something, he leaned forward slightly as the ambient noise was cut off from the hallway. Tranquillity reigned as the homeroom teacher stepped up to the dais.
Thud
Dropping a three-foot-tall stack of textbooks onto the wooden surface. Lifting his eyelids, fighting the weariness to focus — a person standing behind the podium.
Profiling. A middle-aged man, near his 40s perhaps — dark charcoal-grey hair, cropped neatly, kind features with subtle creases as he smiled, a shaven jawline, and reading glasses.
"Quiet down."
The teacher's tone was entirely different from the previously rigid one — this time lighter, more at ease than the roll call.
He turned to the board; with fluid movement, the chalk snapped crisply against the dark surface, writing out his name in large sweeping characters.
"I'm Ichida Sui, and I'll be handling your mathematics curriculum this year…"
He said, then turning back around with a faint reassuring smile that instantly melted the stiff atmosphere in the room — their shoulders unconsciously relaxing.
"I know the ceremony in the gym feels like a military drill, but rest assured, you can breathe now. Welcome to Class 1-A."
A low murmur of relief escaped the collective. Akane, however, had already fixed his gaze on the table, keeping himself awake to the teacher's rhythm.
Tap Tap
The teacher rapped his knuckles against a stack of smaller, dark-blue, pocket-sized booklets on his desk.
"First things first. Front rows, pass these back. These are your student handbooks. Carry them with you at all times — there's your ID and the school regulations inside."
"Along with that, pass back these contact sheets for your parents. And don't lose your handbooks, yes?"
Some of them spontaneously answered, earning a chuckle from the teacher. The rows sprang into quiet action.
Half-lidded, though heavy, he leaned back and watched the thin vinyl booklets and loose papers cascade down the columns, student by student.
A small, lightweight stack dropped onto his desk. He took his copy smoothly, and turning sideways, passed the rest to the girl behind him without a word.
'That's easy enough.'
Thud
Noticing the heavy sound, his eyes flicked in reflex to the teacher's desk. Curse his crow's mouth — the peace hadn't lasted long enough.
"Now, for the heavy lifting."
The teacher warned, gesturing to the monolithic three-foot-tall mountain of pristine textbooks sitting on the dais. Akane's eyes twitched.
"Let's get these distributed. Front row, count out your sets and start passing them back."
A series of heavy thuds resounded as he watched in cascade — some of them overwhelmed and groaning, perhaps only now realising there was no fun in school. Yeah, him too.
Thud
"Here."
A shadow fell across the bright brown wood of his desk. Motionless for a moment as if resigned to his fate, he lifted his eyelids — his dim, sleepy gaze falling on the student in front.
Messy, voluminous light-brown hair with jagged layers and long bangs that partially framed his face. Akane's gaze stayed for a few seconds.
Then flicked away — continuing the profile. Fair skin, slender facial structure, eyes half-closed, serene, sunny, and slightly smug.
It was the boy from roll call earlier — Masayuki Kei, or whatever his name was. He had completely turned around in his seat, holding a heavy stack of fresh textbooks.
"Take yours and pass the rest back, Shirakami-kun."
The boy whispered with a slightly strained, sunny smile. A sunshine boy? A model student who would be the centre of this class? Well — a passing thought, to refresh his mind.
A second passed. Was Masayuki-kun trying to secure an ally? Or was it simply his habit to offer a sunny, reliable smile and be helpful? Whatever it was—
"Right, thanks."
Offering a calm smile in return — polite and entirely normal in tone — he replied amidst his internal monologue. He reached out for the stack, and the weight transferred to his arms.
The uniform jacket tightened against his torso, and through the crisp fabric pressed against his skin, the regenerating flesh screamed — a sharp burning ache flaring up.
Still, not a single muscle twitched. His hands were stable. He smoothly slid the top copy onto his desk, keeping his chin level.
"Man, these are really heavy."
The boy opposite mumbled, head hanging downward as the murmur drifted — lingering, wanting to extend the conversation.
"I heard the curriculum here is brutal. Did you go to Shijo Elementary, by the way? You don't look familiar."
A standard, meaningless icebreaker — but not much of a hassle to answer. As reliable as he was, Akane handled it.
"Mmm, well, I'm from outside the district."
He said smoothly, keeping a half-smile, a bit dazed. Turning his body to the back, he flashed the same smile to the girl behind him — a polite acknowledgement.
"Here's yours."
To the outstretched hands of the students in the row behind him — and without awaiting their reaction, he turned back to deal with this Masayuki.
"Ahh, an outsider, huh? Tough luck blending into these cliques."
The boy chuckled, turning back around as he heard the teacher clear his throat at the podium.
"Well, I'm Masayuki. Good luck to us both."
Akane let his gaze fall back to his desk, one hand resting lightly above it, the other tracing the smooth cover of the English textbook. Internally, letting the pain subside.
"Then, I'll be depending on you for the rest of this too, Masayuki-kun."
Whispering lightly to be heard, he felt a flinch from the seat in front. He shook his head lightly. It really wasn't hard to be normal, after all.
…
Time passed in a blur as he fought sleepiness through one mundane administrative task after another. Ichida-sensei scribbled essential dates on the chalkboard.
Droning on about school property, then concluding with a reminder for everyone to have their parents sign the emergency contact sheets by tomorrow morning.
Akane simply dozed — shutting off most of his mind — keeping only his posture steady and his face neutral as he watched the clock on the wall tick down.
Finally, the long hand clicked into place, signalling the end of the homeroom period.
Ichida-sensei clapped his hands together — the sharp smack drawing everyone's attention back to the front, serving at least as a waking call for Akane.
"Alright, that's everything for today. Since it's the entrance ceremony, you're dismissed early. Make sure you head straight home — no loitering in the shopping districts in your new uniforms."
The teacher then shifted his gaze to the student sitting in the front-right corner — the designated class representative for the day.
The student stood under his gaze, rigidly, his voice cracking slightly with nerves as he delivered the formal closing command.
"Stand!"
Across the classroom, thirty-four chairs scraped heavily in unison. Akane rose along with them, grimacing slightly — the corner of his lips twitching.
"Bow!" the representative commanded.
"Thank you very much," the class chorused in a synchronised wave, bending forward at the waist.
Akane bowed to the exact required angle, eyes fixed on the bright brown wood of his desk. When he straightened, the rigid, suffocating atmosphere of the first day finally fractured.
The classroom instantly dissolved into loud, chaotic chatter as children began packing their bags. As Akane reached for his things, Masayuki turned completely around in his seat.
"Shirakami-kun, by the way, which direction is your home?"
Masayuki asked casually with a smile, leaning his upper body sideways against his backrest. Exactly as Akane had expected. He didn't mind an extra companion, though he had another stop to make first.
'Of course, if we are going the same way…'
"It's in 2-Chome, near the park."
Akane replied, sliding a textbook into his schoolbag. He kept his eyes low, answering with a polite smile matching his earlier tone.
"Wow, what a coincidence — same direction for me," Masayuki beamed, his eyes lighting up. "Let's go back together, then?"
"Sure. But we need to pick up my twin first — they're in the next class."
"Easy, no big deal!"
Lifting his head, Akane took in Masayuki's bright, unburdened face.
The boy stood up from his seat, clearly at ease now that he had secured a friend on day one. Akane found himself mildly amused by the sheer simplicity of it.
…
"Masayuki?"
"Whoa?! I thought you looked familiar — it is you!!"
At the school gates, both boys stopped dead in their tracks, caught off guard. Akane watched the sudden reunion, quickly parsing the situation as the pieces clicked into place.
Standing before them was Ayato — the exact same facial structure as Akane, a perfect replica.
His pale profile was framed by medium-length, messy hair with long bangs falling over his face; wide-open, calm sky-blue eyes and a mole beneath the right eye set him apart.
Ayato's thin lips parted as he looked alternately between his twin and his old elementary school friend, stunned by the double coincidence.
Akane — whose hair leaned just slightly towards his left eye — was already beginning to tire of the farce. Still, knowing his twin had a friend here meant he could let his guard down a fraction.
"You dumbface, how long did you want to keep staring at each other?"
"Shall we actually go home, or what? You can catch up along the way."
Akane muttered the words towards Ayato, eyes narrowing.
Ayato snapped back to reality, clicking his tongue first before glaring at his twin.
"Who are you calling a dumbface, airhead? Fine, let's go. Come on, Masayuki — no reason to linger here."
Letting out a rough breath, Ayato glanced at Masayuki. The sunshine boy was watching the sibling bickering with immense interest, a massive smile threatening to split his face — causing the corner of Ayato's eye to twitch.
"What are you even laughing at?"
"Nothing, nothing!" Masayuki chuckled, deliberately playing with his words. "It's just as Shirakami-kun said — we really should get going, Shirakami."
Triggering Ayato's latent anger, the teasing made the twin grit his teeth. Falling into a natural rhythm, the three of them began to walk — Masayuki floating ahead in the lead, Akane matching strides beside his volatile brother.
Minutes passed along the street in a lively atmosphere. Both were talking about various things, but mainly Masayuki talked about Ayato's past while Akane listened with interest.
"So, that's how it is…" Akane murmured.
"That's right, that's right, Shirakami-kun!" Masayuki beamed. "Ayato-kun was practically a delinquent in elementary school, you know?
"He was always way too overprotective of little Shirakami. Because he kept guarding her like a terrifying multi-armed Ashura, the other boys were too scared to even approach her. It was pitiful!"
"Why do you make it sound like I'm some kind of demon?!" Ayato barked back, his face flushing.
"Irina still had plenty of friends! I wasn't being unreasonable."
"But Ayato-kun, isolating her like that will just make it harder for her to socialise later, right?" Masayuki countered smoothly, casting a mischievous backward glance.
"It seems Shirakami-kun was right about you after all — you really are an idiot."
"What did you just— kidding! I'm kidding! Mercy!!"
Watching the banter between the two, it seemed some burden or tension slowly lessened in Akane's chest — reflected in his eyes was Ayato chasing Masayuki along the street in rage.
While the other was giggling and laughing with half-closed squinting eyes, various people walking past simply smiled at the sight.
'Well… it's good to know.'