Chapter 2: one
The start of a new school year brought pleasant weather, temperature of a little over 65 degrees, a subtle breeze, a cloudless sky, and just about the warmest and most welcoming sunlight I had ever had the privilege of walking beneath. I was quite fond of how school started this time of year—it always seemed to shed a hint of positivity over the students, the teachers, pretty much every individual I laid my eyes who wasn't, of course, in the process of sneezing or putting on a face of discomfort due to allergies. And even many of those people still seemed to have about them an air of satisfaction. I hadn't met a great number of students who didn't love the jubilance and 'buddy-buddy' atmosphere that seemed to settle throughout the entirety of the first week, voices everywhere agog and simply bursting with animation at the thought of recruiting new souls who shared their passion or desired to do so—club activities, is what I'm referring to. And even though there were an abundance of options and opportunities to start something new, my feet always led me to the same place.
The basketball club was where I met my closest friends, three eccentric fellows who happened to be second years like me. We'd all gone to the same middle school. We'd spent these past four years of our lives bonding as teammates, as friends. I truly was grateful for all of them.
"You owe me a one-on-one next week, remember that," Tomoru said with a smirk, using his physical advance to trap me in a headlock and tousle my fire truck red hair. That was how everyone always described it. They could see me from miles away, they claimed, and losing me in a crowd would be virtually impossible. Sometimes I was unsure as to whether or not they were complimenting or making fun of me. Either way, I wasn't too bothered by it. I quite liked my hair.
"You're in for a bad time, Tomoru," I uttered in a low voice, tempted to viciously bite the bare skin uncovered by his sloppily rolled up sleeve. Sato and Atsushi, who were standing idly by, started to chuckle at the sight, turning their heads simultaneously in opposite directions, as if intentionally synchronized. The two of them had coffee brown hair, bottle green eyes, and were about the same height, and I knew I wasn't the only one who had mistaken these unrelated boys as twins at first encounter.
As for Tomoru, he was much different than the three of us, and people often wondered why it was we got along so well. He was several inches taller than me, and I happened to have the second greatest height on the entire basketball team. He was a skyscraper alright, broad-shouldered, muscly, and a real looker at that. Unfortunately, however, what he exceled in other things he lacked in academic skill. I couldn't count the number of occasions when Atsushi had to sacrifice his free time in order to tutor the giant idiot, and even with his help Tomoru was still handed back plenty of test papers whose grades were less than desirable. Miraculously enough, he somehow managed to pass every one of his classes.
There was only one downside to this year, and that was the fact that one of us had been put into a separate class—not for any strange or particular reason, thankfully, but nonetheless I couldn't deny it was a little disappointing not having the three of us all in the same classroom as we'd been these past four years. Alas, the coffee twins would be torn apart by an unfortunate coincidence, and how heartbreaking it was to witness their exceedingly dramatic farewells to one another. Honestly, though—anyone who didn't know the context behind this exaggerated performance would most definitely have been taken aback at the sight of the two boys embracing and in a fit of forced tears.
"We'll see you at lunch in the cafeteria, Atsushi!" I called out to him, waving my hands in the air as he finally managed to peel himself away from Sato and trudge gloomily to his classroom. To remind us he wasn't as miserable as he was letting on, Atsushi threw a smile our way just before disappearing from our sights. Sato let out a sigh of discontentment.
"With Atsushi gone," he began, his gaze drifting to the floor as his lips bent into a pout, "now I'll have to be the one to tutor Mr. Blockhead over here."
"I heard that."
"I know. You were supposed to."
They were close. Regardless of how many times they denied it.
"C'mon, guys, we gotta get to class, too."
"Aye, aye, Fire Truck."
Due to the coffee twins' lengthy goodbye, Sato, Tomoru, and I strolled into our classroom seconds before the bell rang, hastily claiming the first empty seat we laid eyes on. Quite scattered, they happened to be, with Sato in the direct middle of the room, Tomoru in the front right corner, and me all the way in the back left corner. Other than the seats we had chosen for ourselves, there was but one more, coincidentally two seats away from both Sato and I. It puzzled me, because typically the teachers set out the exact number of chairs to seat the amount of students assigned to be in the classroom.
The reason behind it was made known to me as our homeroom teacher entered the room that morning, an unfamiliar boy gingerly following behind. A transfer student. Honey blonde hair that fell just over his thin eyebrows…the roundness of his face made him appear slightly younger, but the way his gaze was so vaguely narrowed at the floor, even as he walked to the front of the room, hinted at a presence of maturity within him, or perhaps a weariness of mind. He was fairly tall, and judging by where the top of his head reached on the blackboard, probably just as much so as me.
That was my first impression of him, my initial perspective within the short amount of time that passed before he faced the class. That was when I saw them. Vibrant eyes the color of cognac wine that, at first glance, left me speechless. Not only due to jealousy-as anyone who was observant of a person's eye color would be-but also because of the expression they cleaved to. Whatever it was was inscrutable, and I thought it'd be a waste of time to try to decipher his reason for looking the way that he did. But I couldn't look past the familiarity of those eyes. Familiar in the sense that I, too, once held such an expression, but to a much lesser degree it seemed.
Our homeroom teacher introduced us briefly to the new student, who I discovered was named Nozomi Sena, delivering the usual message as teachers do in this situation, for us all to treat him kindly and help him feel welcome in this new school. The boy said nothing. He just bowed politely to the class, then very, very slowly, crept over to his seat, all the while maintaining a discomforted face as he kept those eyes of his wide and alert.
With the soft sound of his book bag hitting the floor, class began. And while I was able to stay focused for the entirety of our classes, throughout our lunch break, our club activities and everything that came between, a short and quiet scene that unfolded before my eyes at the end of the day stuck to my brain and became a sort of afterimage.
A girl stopped by our classroom after the majority of the students had left school to go home, but several people, such as myself, had stayed a little longer for various reasons. She was a first year, if I weren't mistaken, and just as Nozomi had, this girl didn't make eye contact with a single one of us, nor did she utter a word. Upon entering the room, she made her way silently over to the boy still seated in his desk and tapped his shoulder gently, standing by patiently until he had carefully swung his book bag over his shoulder and stood up. She had a sweet appearance, shoulder-length hair close to the shade of Nozomi's, soft blue eyes that matched the color of the charm bracelet hanging loosely from her wrist. She was small in stature, even more so seemingly when standing next to the transfer student, who she soon linked hands with and led safely out of the classroom.
Every other second, she'd turn around to look at him, taking a moment to concernedly wash her gaze over both his face and his gentle footsteps. Girlfriend, was my first assumption, but something about the way they distanced themselves and their unapproachable auras made me wonder if there were something more to this relationship.
It was none of my business. I shouldn't have been bothered with it in the first place. But I suppose you could say that at times, I could be a little too observant of my surroundings for my own good.
It happened every day. The same scene at the same exact time, every day without fail. She'd visit our classroom, a solemn look painted across her face, only to retrieve Nozomi like a kindly and responsible mother picking up her lonely child from daycare. It sure seemed that way. I never once saw Nozomi in PE class, or in any extracurricular involvements of any kind, for that matter. From what I knew, he never moved an inch from that seat of his until the hmoment came for the underclassman to arrive. It wasn't often that Nozomi had been approached by any of his classmates, and I had a strong feeling that it was because they could sense it too. That something was off about him.
I had seen it once. An amiable young lady named Chiyo mustered up the courage to speak to him. Well, I guess it was more of an attempt. Even with Chiyo's cheerful disposition and polite manner of speaking, she ended up being rejected rather coldly, but in a way that left her much more sad than offended. Nozomi hadn't so much as glanced at her. His voice was low and nearly inaudible from the volume at which he was speaking at the time, but I did manage to make out an apology having left his tongue within their upsettingly brief exchange.
Indubitably, with every new occasion, no matter of what origin or circumstance, there came gossip. It truly astounded me, the stories people managed to come up with, the frantic whispering that ensued just upon catching sight of the boy eating his lunch alone at his desk, the apparent barricade that had been built around him which only that specific female underclassman could break down. Surprisingly enough, Nozomi did receive some rather positive comments from amongst the small circle of girls who found his mysterious aura to be quite attractive, but from what I overheard during their various blushing and giggle sessions was that they were much too shy to go near him. For some inexplicable reason, I was thankful for people like them, even though I told myself I was indifferent to matters involving this transfer student. A part of me was convinced that the very core of my interest in him was based around that first day I saw into his eyes, and how, for just a moment, I thought to have been caught in the act. By him.
"It's that hair of yours," Tomoru had insisted without second thought. "You stand out."
I wondered about that. And though I was puzzled by it, that wasn't the only thing weighing on my mind.
We were three weeks into the school year now. Nothing out of the ordinary had taken me by surprise outside of Nozomi's arrival, and my usual schedule wasn't the least bit shaken. I still worked diligently to pass my classes, took care of my mother whenever an opportunity arose, and at the end of the day, I still had enough juice left in the tank to practice basketball in the local park, which was located at a convenient distance of two short blocks from my house. And as always, I kept in contact with Tomoru, Atsushi, and Sato, who I was pleased to discover were doing just as well off as I'd been.
I wished so earnestly for things to stay this way. I was content with my peaceful life, and I couldn't deny a part of me feared that even the slightest change in the wind's course would tear down everything I'd worked so hard for. And I realize now how selfish that was.
Everything changed the day the female underclassman didn't stop by our room.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone