Worthless Pride

Who's This Smug, Shallow Asshole?

Whenever anyone called me a liar, I was quick to deny it. But that in itself was a lie. My identity is technically a lie. As I trudge through the corridor, many eyes stung my back as they bore into me.

"Chill out, they're only staring because you're new here. They just don't recognize you. It's not like they know that you're a girl." I tell myself silently. My uniform did little to distract others from my unfamiliar face. Cramming my hands into my pockets, I head to the faculty room, to meet with my homeroom teacher.

"I'm here, Ms. Aoyagi." I announce, approaching her desk. She appeared shorter than me, with chin-length light brown hair and kind black eyes.

"You must be Kousuke Oota." She professes, turning her swivel chair to face me.

"Yeah, that's me. The transfer student." I confirm.

"Well, nice to meet you." She offers a smile, rising from her desk chair and dipping her head in a slight bow. "I'll introduce you to your classmates. They should be on their way or already there." Aoyagi picks up a stack of papers, as well as a pen, which she tucks behind her ear. "Are you ready to go, Mr. Oota?" I nod, readjusting the bag on my shoulder, bowing more deeply than her, making sure to keep my arms at my side, as boys are meant to do when bowing.

"Yes. You can just call me Kousuke." I request, straightening up again.

"Very well. Let's get going." She turns around and walks away, her shoes clicking softly against the ground, as I follow. I try to maintain a polite distance, as I don't want to bump into her. We climb up a flight of stairs, passing one classroom, two classrooms, stopping at the fifth one: Class 2-5. Aoyagi slides the door open, allowing me to glance inside. Seated at the desks and standing around the room were maybe 20 boys and girls that I didn't recognize in the slightest. Have I expressed how much I like being surrounded by strangers? Because I'm not crazy about it. In fact. I don't like it at all. But here I am.

Starting to stiffen up, I follow the shorter woman inside, the students' voices gradually hushing as they retreat to their desks. I stand at the front of the room as Aoyagi writes the kanji of my name on the board:

大田康介

"Alright, listen up. This is Kousuke Oota and he's our new transfer student," she meets my eyes. "Kousuke, why don't you tell the class a bit about yourself?" A jolt went down my spine, and I was silent for a few, painfully awkward moments.

"...You can just call me Kousuke. I'm from the other side of Miyagi...and I like video games and playing volleyball..." I murmur, trailing off. Goddamn, was that one of the most awkward things I've ever said or what? I feel like such a dumbass. Great first impression, you idiot Kousuke!

"Please sit over there, next to Yahaba" Aoyagi pointed to a vacant seat next to a with fluffy light brown hair. His hair reminded me of a cream puff.

Cream puff-chan.

Nodding, I obey, taking my seat. It was near the center of the classroom. "Alright, listen up!" Aoyagi announces from the front of the classroom. "We're starting class now!"

The day went by quickly, with the second-year teachers rotating between classrooms. Aoyagi, Mr. Hayakawa, Mrs. Nakanoi, Ms. Masuzoe, Mr. Takenouchi, and Miss Hayata. They were the common core teachers. I had yet to meet the gym teacher, but if they're the faculty adviser for the volleyball club, I'd need to speak to them, at least eventually. I didn't come from Kitagawa Daiichi when I began high school, which was a powerhouse middle school. I heard that if you played on their volleyball team, Aobajōsai would invite them with the condition that they'd play for their team. But that's just a rumor.