Feet tap against the ground in anticipation as the clock ticks down the seconds left in class. Eyes dart back and forth between the timepiece on the wall and the teacher lecturing at the front of the room, words rushing faster and faster as he tries to finish his lesson before the hoard of students speed out.
It's only a half-day of class, and yet everyone is already itching to get out. Maybe it's because we only have a half-day, because there's that much more free time to do whatever they want once that ringing dismisses them.
Not that I mind either way, considering the fact that I've got nothing to do.
Well, no, that's not totally true - I've got that stupid package I've got to get for Kenji, but I'm not in any particular rush to catch a bus into the city. It doesn't seem to be particularly important to him either, since he hasn't so much as mentioned it since we last spoke.
"Fifty-nine... Fifty-eight... Fifty-seven..."
The sound of a hissing countdown begins to layer underneath the frantic attempt to get all of the week's notes out as Mutou's hands become a blur, giving us his best butterfly impression as he chalks up equations and diagrams with one hand and wipes the eraser up and down with the other. I can't help but wonder how far behind we really are when the three seconds it takes to clear the board are so valuable that he has to write and erase at the same time.
"Ten... Nine... Eight..."
The whispers rise in intensity as more and more people join in. Mutou manages to finish his lesson right at the 'five' mark, slamming the stick of chalk against the board and sending white splinters dropping to the ground.
"Three... Two... One..."
At last the bell rings out, sending books and notebooks flying from the surfaces of desks and through the door as students rush out, ready for their day off.
Mutou sulks as he watches the hoard of students crowding out the door, a sigh escaping his throat. His sadness doesn't appear to be overwhelming, however, as he quickly joins the mess of students after clearing the chalkboard and stuffing his papers into a suitcase.
"Ahhhh, that was fun~." a voice beside me comments, her arms raised to the ceiling in a stretch.
The pair of girls next to me sign back and forth about something that may as well be in a different language to me. Actually, wouldn't Japanese sign language count as a different language as vocalized Japanese? Either way, I don't understand what they're saying.
It also means that it may as well have nothing to do with me; so I'm free to pack up my things and head for the door, ready for-
"Hicchan~! Why are you always in such a hurry?"
-the rest of my day.
"Well, it's because I've got things to do." I reply, well aware of the fact that I'm lying through my teeth.
"You've always got things to do~! Shicchan and I think you need a break."
I don't think I could get a break much better than the one I've been getting; as in, laying on the bed in boredom or reading in the library. Regardless, their idea of a break no doubt revolves around manual labor and food.
"So you can ring me into doing busywork for the student council?"
"That's not what we were insinuating at all~! You always look so depressed, and we're really worried."
Worried? About me? I'm flattered. I understand that it's the student council's duty to look out for their 'subjects,' but honestly; every time I get involved with these girls, it ends with me running around for at least an hour lifting things. I like that they buy the food or snacks whenever I help out; but I don't think the headache and sore muscles are worth it.
"What makes you think I'm depressed?"
As soon as Misha relays my message; Shizune's hands fly into a flurry of finger-contortions and patterns which appears to leave even her translator unable to keep up.
"You haven't been participating in group activities, you've refused to join a club, y- ah, that's intruding on his privacy, isn't it?"
"I understand why you're worried, but I'm just fine." I return.
"Are you sure? You know we're here if there's anything you need~." Misha replies, a look of genuine concern on her face.
"Believe me; I appreciate the concern. I can take care of myself, though."
Misha looks between Shizune and I, trying to interpret the storm of sign-language that erupts from the former's hands as soon as my message is relayed.
"If you say so, Hicchan." Misha translates, no doubt leaving out all the chastisement and lecturing from her other half.
Content that everything is taken care of; I grab my things and step out of the classroom, offering a goodbye wave to keep from looking like a complete jackass.
Well, there I go again. I've got nothing to do other than read or run into the city to get Kenji's crap, and yet I still told those two girls that I was busy; to their faces no less.
Maybe that's my problem; I'm afraid to commit to anything.
Well, 'afraid' is a little much; let's say 'apprehensive.' I'm still a little 'apprehensive' about committing to anything, considering my condition. Wouldn't it be better for everyone if I went without getting attached, since I could drop dead just by climbing the stairs too fast or running too hard?
Honestly, I'd rather not get into that mindset yet. I'll give it a few more years before I go and become the bitter, detached grump. I told myself I was going to use my time here to get well; I spent six months sulking in the hospital, that's long enough. I don't know how I'm going to take that first step forward, but I'm not going to lie around for another six months.
Okay, so, with that little self-hatred episode firmly whipped into line; let's go find out what's for lunch.
...
Ah, nothing's for lunch, because the bell is going to ring before that entire line gets served. Looks like vending machine meals for me again.
I could always go and hang out with Lilly and her friend, but... Nah, I don't want to go bogging them down again. They're probably having a rousing conversation that I couldn't possibly have any input on. Let's also consider that one of them isn't fond of surprises, so me popping in unannounced wouldn't be a good idea, at least not until I get to know her better.
IF I get to know her better, that is.
******
Clink. Clink. Clink.
B13.
Clink. Clink. Clink.
E4.
Melon bread and a can of coffee isn't a wholesome meal by any means; but it's all I can do at this point.
Maybe I should learn how to cook and pack my own lunches every day; nothing extreme like roast sausage, but some rice and a sandwich would be better than what I've been 'treating' myself to. Hell, I bet it'd be cheaper in the end too.
And I could start running every morning! And working out! And join a school club and become part of a socially acceptable group of two to five friends!
It's all hot air. Yeah, it's nice to think about it, but someone like me doesn't have the fortitude to push themselves like that. We're talking about a guy who was carted around by six different girls during his FIRST WEEK at a new school and couldn't decide to stick with one of them.
I tear the plastic wrapper of the melon bread open, hurrying to sink my teeth into the domed pastry before the lunch bell can catch me off guard for what may be the third time this week. The tab of the small black can is popped off thereafter.
Considering all the other state-of-the-art facilities this school contains, it only makes sense that we have heated vending machines. And I'm thankful for that; lukewarm coffee is terrible.
The mound of bread is able to make a complete journey into my stomach before the bell rings, no doubt leaving just enough time for me to finish off the black cylinder of caffeinated nectar.
...Wait, what the hell am I doing?
There's no class for the rest of the day. There's not going to be another bell. This thinking thing needs to stop; I'm actually starting to forget what day of the week it is.
*************
The rest of the day passes without incident; no difficult lectures and no more interjections from Misha or Shizune. I considered going up to the vacant classroom, but those two have more than likely decided to head home for the day as well.
Now that I think about it; it's been a while since I've even ran into Emi or that Rin girl. I did kind of agree to be Emi's running partner for a bit there, although I'm sure she's getting along fine without me acting as dead weight.
Rin seems to be well-off on her own as well. I helped her with that wall-mural before the festival, but that was mostly menial tasks like fetching paint or mixing colors together - things she could do by herself.
There are these books sitting on my desk that are no doubt overdue. I don't know why, but even if this school doesn't have a due date policy; I still feel guilty holding onto them for so long, especially if I'm never going to pull through and finish them.
Then there's Kenji's package. I was planning on waiting until I had something else to do in the city; but now that I'm laying here staring at the ceiling, I can't help but want to go and get it over with. I'll bet it's something small, even - he said that bottle of whiskey he shared with me was from his parents; maybe it's like that.
I change out of my school uniform and into more 'normal' clothes as I wonder what could be in that package. If it is alcohol; then is he going to offer to share again?
Do I even want him to share? I've been left with a bit of a teetotaler's mindset ever since that first hangover.
What if it has nothing to do with that? I don't know what Kenji does in his room, so there are thousands of possibilities for what he could have ordered.
Raw chemicals for experimentation? Computer parts? Or could it be something more normal like a set of comic books or a movie of some sort?
Now I have to know! Damn you Kenji, taking advantage of my instinctual curiosity.
*************
The familiar sight of grey asphalt and crowded sidewalks sends feelings of nostalgia through my head as the bus pulls into the city, announcing that we'll be at the next stop in five minutes.
This time, I made sure to actually bring a map, instead of trying to go by memory or instinct. It's only a few minutes' walk from the bus stop to get there too!
Hopefully it's something small, since I'd like to go out and explore the city here. That was my main pastime as a kid often left alone by working parents; going out and roaming the city. That and soccer anyway, but the latter option is quite a bit more dangerous now.
Knowing my luck, of course, it's probably going to be something humongous. Something large, and yet light enough to make you wonder if there's even anything inside of it. That's the kind of package I can imagine Kenji ordering; big, perplexing, and yet containing nothing at all.
We arrive at the stop sooner than expected, prompting all of the passengers to spill out of the single door and onto the sidewalk.
Alright, this time I'm prepared!
I unfold the local map and find my position on it, tracing my finger across the paper as I make my way to 'central receiving.' A left turn here and a right turn there bring me right to the front of the post office.
An isolated, brown-brick building taking up only a fraction of the empty lot it's been built on. The remaining acre of space consists of parking lot, drop-off boxes, and a couple of employees smoking around the side door.
The automatic sliding-glass door parts as I near the entrance, welcoming me into an empty lobby. I'm not sure what time they close, but it must be nearing rather soon since there's already workers locking up and heading out for the night.
Thankfully a woman still remains at the receiving desk, the glow of a cell phone against her face making me wonder how much business they get here.
"Hello, sir, how can I help you this evening?"
"Hey, I'm here to get a package for 'Setou Kenji.'"
Without any questions or identification; she taps the name into a computer on the desk and scrolls up and down, giving mixed reactions to my inquiry.
"I've got a package for you, but... Hmm..."
Her fingers duck up and down the rows of the keyboard as she searches through what may be a million different people's mail. She stops and scratches her chin every so often, becoming frustrated with the machine.
"Alright, so, there's some mixups here. Physically, your package is elsewhere - but for some reason the tracker is still here. It passed through here a few days ago, so I'm going to assume someone forgot to scan it out."
WELP.
"Are you sure it's not here?"
"Kenji Setou, resident of Johto Prefecture, Tamriel? Phone number 999-999-9999?" she asks, giving me a disappointed glare.
"Yeah... that's me." I answer, calling upon all the resolve in my body to keep from either shaking my head in embarrassment or laughing out loud.
"No, your package was scanned in at somewhere else yesterday. It won't appear on the website, though, because there's an incomplete section where, like I said, someone forgot to put it on the transit list here.
"Do you know where the package is now?"
She browses the computer's database for a few more minutes before answering "about half an hour out of town, in..."
So it's at the post office in town. Go figure. Why the hell would he tell me to come here if his damned mail was a five minutes' walk away? Did he not know it was there or something, and sent me here to make sure?
Besides, what's the point of giving them a bogus residence and phone number if you're just going to hand out your name and a shipping address?
"Thank you. Have a nice evening." I respond, stepping backward and out the door.
Well, that was a complete and total waste of time.
I made all these plans for whether or not the package was big or small, and yet I didn't even consider what I'd do if there was no package at all. What I want to do is head back to the school ASAP to get back at Kenji somehow; maybe tell him the feminists are holding his package ransom and refuse to let him have it unless he shows up in person.
But at the same time, I'm already here. It would be a total waste of time if I left empty handed, rather than a partial waste of time if I gave myself a night on the town.
I took my pills a little before schedule; so it's not like I'm going to die if I don't get back. Maybe this is a good thing, since now I have two free hands to run around town with! No dead weight!
Maybe I'll eat some real food for once! I do have plenty of allowance money for this month, so one little binge can't hurt too much, right? How about I go see a movie while I'm at it; I wonder what's playing this week.
At the very least, I'm going to roam the streets like a wayward vagabond; for old time's sake. I may not even go into any stores, I'm just here to see the sights, maybe catch a drunken barfight get thrown out onto the street.
Or hell, maybe I'll meet Akira again. Lilly did say she has Saturday night off. The chances are slim as hell no doubt, but I'm sure any statistician would have a fit if they found out about me running into the same stranger three times on three unrelated, unplanned occasions.
I fold the paper map up and stuff it into my back pocket, checking the bus sign to make sure they'll still be making trips back to Yamaku here in a few hours. My watch says that it is seven o' clock sharp, meaning I've got a good couple of hours of entertainment ahead of me. The best part? Distractions are fully welcome, because I've got nothing better to do anyway!
That's what I'm going to do. I'm going to hit this sidewalk and pace my way across town, looking for the first thing that catches my eye.
The sun begins to set in the distance, prompting signs to light up and pedestrians to begin the trek home from their daily duties.
Bars, pool halls, bowling alleys, karaoke houses, and plenty of other nighttime activities spring to life, each populated by their own special crowd as their doors open for the night.
This is what I loved about the city; the night life. That feeling of wonder and amazement upon seeing the multicolored signs light up.
What a shame that I'm eighteen and still fascinated by bright lights.
Either way, it's still a sight to behold. My first round of sight-seeing takes me down the central avenue, where I'm welcomed to the sound of numerous cars speeding down the road. I'm surrounded by groups of people, each abiding by their own clique and paying no mind to one another.
Benches line both ends of the road, interspersed by parallel parking spots and potted trees. Some are vacant, while others act as a resting place for entire groups of students and other such folk.
I pull the map back out of my pocket and take a seat on one of the benches, deciding that it would be better to visit anything that interests me before roaming the alleyways.
There's an arcade a couple of blocks down the road from here, that's going to be first on the agenda.
Just the thought of that brings back memories. Dozens of nights spend roaming the arcades after primary school, betting change with friends from back then on Fighter matches.
I can't relive it with my friends from back then; mostly because they've all moved on and no doubt forgotten that I ever existed, but the nostalgia value should still be th-
"Well hello there, Hisao." a woman on the bench next to me greets.
"Hey." I wave back, wondering how she knows my name.
The wild head of hair and ruby-red eyes seem familiar somehow, but everything else is off.
"Why are you looking at me like that? Don't tell me you don't know who I am, you're practically stalking me here." she comments with an amused smile.
"Akira?" I ask.
"Ooh, lucky guess." she returns.
It's the same head of hair and the same figure; but the dress style is all wrong. There's no crisp, clean suit jacket, but a red tank top that bares her slender shoulders. A pair of loose-fitting blue jeans graces her hips and legs, bagging up around those slim ankles. To match her more casual attire; those black dress shoes have replaced by a pair of white sandals, exposing the cream-colored complexion of her feet.
"Really?"
"Yeah, really. What's gotten into you, it's not like I got plastic surgery or something."
"Oh, uh, sorry. It's just..."
"Didn't recognize me without the suit?" she asks.
I nod my head in agreement.
"Wouldn't be the first time." the girl next to me replies, bursting into a bout of hearty laughter.
This has quickly become the most awkward part of my school year. The first time was normal; strangers meet in random places all the time. The second time was a little less likely, considering how much business the Shanghai gets. The third time was pure coincidence.
But this is the fourth time. Lightning doesn't strike twice -- and it definitely doesn't strike twice again. Either my luck has really picked up or there's some kind of divine forces transpiring here.
"So, question from earlier; ARE you stalking me?" she asks.
"I find myself wondering the same thing. This is what, the fourth time I've run into you?"
"Keep it up and I might start believing in that 'red string of fate' nonsense." she answers, chuckling.
The screen of her flip-phone lights up, which causes her to grumble as she checks its contents.
"Either way, you're still here. So, what brings you here on this fine night?"
"Business, I guess you could call it." I reply, letting a sigh roll out of my mouth.
"Ah, been there, done that. Just out of curiosity; what kind of business?"
"Well, let's say I have a friend who is incredibly paranoid, and let's say he wants me to pick something up..."
"Uh huh."
"Now, hypothetically, what if this friend were to be a conspiracy theorist who thinks the postal service is run by FEMA, who are in turn run by the feminist overmind?"
"I'd say you're on one hell of a quest there." she returns, a couple of idle chuckles escaping her mouth.
"Alright, just making sure I'm not the crazy one."
"So, what happened?"
"I went to the post office here only to find out that his package has already been forwarded to the one five minutes from the school."
"Life's a bitch like that." she counters.
"Tell me about it. I was thinking of going out and exploring the city, just to feel like today wasn't a total waste of time." I reply.
Before our impromptu conversation can continue; Akira holds up one finger and reaches into her pocket, pulling out her phone and checking its contents. Her ruby-red gaze switches back and forth between the screen and me, mulling over something that may have just popped into her head.
"Hey Hisao, how old are you?"
"Eighteen, why?"
"You say you've got a couple of hours free?"
Oooooooh boy. Where could she be going with this?
"Pretty much, yeah. Nothing better to do, anyway."
She slaps the phone shut and nudges it back into her pants pocket.
"So were you planning to go out and get lost all by yourself, or would you rather have someone show you around?" the woman beside me asks, newly invigorated by the apparent turn of events.
"Who's that someone?"
"A girl who also has nothing better to do for the night because her friend decided to go on a date with a guy she's known for two days." she comments, an annoyed expression taking hold of her features.
"And that's you, I'm assuming?"
"Yep. Alone on a Saturday night with nothing to do and no one to spend it with." she answers with a smile, as if it were an accomplishment.
Alone on a Saturday night? Surely she has other friends than just that one. In fact, didn't she say she was going to talk things over with her boyfriend? Wouldn't it make sense for them to be out and spending time together?
"No one to spend it with? What about your boyfriend?"
"We're taking a little break. Honestly, anyone could see that we both needed it." she answers.
"Taking a break? I take it you had a little chat with him, then?" I ask.
Her amused demeanor sinks into another melancholy as she gazes off into the distance, expression shifting back and forth as she tries to think of the right way to answer. The silence lasts so long that I almost wonder if she even heard the question.
"It went... okay. I took your advice and we talked for a while."
"That's great! Everything fixed up?"
"Kinda-sorta." she responds. "Let's just say that asking a stubborn person to stop being stubborn is a good way to get yourself into another never-ending argument."
"Well at least there's hope again, right?"
She takes another, even longer moment to think the question over, assembling all of her thoughts together to think of the proper response.
"It's too soon to say." she answers, that one statement concluding all of her opinions on the matter.
"It'll take time, at the very least." I reply.
I'm not going to lie and say I have no interest in her as a woman, but I want her to be happy first and foremost. She's already in a relationship, and any attempted involvement from may would probably just complicate things.
"Alright, Mr. 'Master of Relationships,'" the girl beside me returns, flashing a grin, "do you still want that tour of the city, or are you going to sit here and wait for another client?"
...Okay, friends do things together, right?