School's Out (self-insert #1)

Chapter 1

The old school house was just as I remembered it.

I took my time walking up the sidewalk, my feet kicking up dusty puffs that flew up in the air and took their time settleing back to the ground. The fragrance of freshly bloomed cherry blossoms traveled on the breeze along with the tiny pink petals. It was a picturesque morning, the kinds you see in animes to lower your guard so you're not expecting the zombie or vampire or werewolf or whatever cliche that jumps out at you in the very same episode.

I wasn't tense. I wasn't worried in the slightest. Well, maybe I was worried because at the moment I had a feeling I was suffering from a head injury or was stuck in a coma. But even for a born and bred Chicagoan, this was familiar territory. I had...I had seen this place before. It was kind of safe to say I'd been here in a very unconventional way.

"Excuse me."

I didn't turn around. I'd heard the footsteps following me for the last few minutes now.

"Is there a reason you've come here? It's rather dangerous for someone like you."

Huh. Someone like me. I knew I was shorter than the average, but it wasn't fair to make assumptions based on that. "If its so dangerous, then what are you doing here?" I countered.

A pause. "It's polite to face the person you're addressing." The person added, deftly avoiding my stroke of logic.

"If you want me to turn around, just say so." I said, amused. "Go on."

The boy—I knew exactly who it was—didn't seem to find anything about this funny. His voice was uncompromisingly cold, something you'd expect of a loud and proud villain. "Turn around, then."

I obeyed, my abaya twisting and untwisting around my legs as I moved. The dark eyes flickered with something like surprise, but the burst of emotion was gone before I could debate whether or not I had imagined it. The pale face they were set into remained impassive. "Who are you? A tourist?"

"Don't assume." I chided him.

"So you live here? In Japan?"

"No." I definitely wasn't hallucinating the longer flash of irritation. "Sorry. I live in America. You're Kazuya Shibuya, right?"

He regarded me for a moment. A cheerful gust ruffled his sable hair and sent the loose end of my black and white polka dotted hijab fluttering. I tugged it back to the front where it rippled down a little farther than my shoulder. We must've made an odd pair, a tall boy in black facing down a short hijabi. A slim pretty boy and a sturdy...decent looking girl. "How do you know that name?" He asked eventually, as if it was a secret he guarded jealously. I smiled at the thought. "Who are you?"

"I'm Nira." I had a policy of protecting personal information (real life or not) and I could tell he didn't believe me, but he didn't challenge me. "As for how I know, you might not believe that."

He raised an eyebrow. "If you know my name, then you know I'm a psychic researcher. I might believe a lot more than you might."

I bit back the tangent on the top of my tongue. "You sure?"

"I'm sure."

"I'm not from this world." I blurted out. "Where I come from, all of this is a manga and anime. I remember most things, but not all."

Silence. Birds sang. A cherry blossom landed perfectly on Kazuya's shoulder and slid off.

"Toldja." I grumbled, beginning to pace—standing in place made me antsy. "Here's the part where you laugh. Go on. I won't get mad or anything."