A/N: The first edited chapter of the rewrite. Enjoy!

Genre: Romance/Friendship/Supernatural(?)/Coming of age

Summary:

She was arrogant and selfish, and was still recovering from the fall off her pedestal. In a coward's move, she fled from Miyagi to Tokyo, where things started spiralling out of control. Somehow, a cat or two start to wedge their way into her life when all she wants to do is survive school with the ghost of her dead cousin hovering over her shoulder.

A spinoff of "Kindergarten Bully". You should probably read that one first to get the gist of some things. Or, you can not read it and just read this instead.

Red, yellow, and green exploded in the sky, the sheer magnitude of brightness momentarily blinding her. All around her, people cheered and shouted, lifting bottles of alcoholic beverages (and some non-alcoholic) into the air. Her ears buzzed with the combined noise of the people's whooping and the bangs of the fireworks.

She breathed out a small sigh, leaning into the side of the person behind her, her orange hair free from its usual braid and fanned out across the damp grass.

She felt fingers weave through her hair, and shifted her gaze to meet Jang Shinwoo's black eyes.

"Yeah?" she asked, a slight blush appearing on her cheeks. "What is it?"

"You… look really nice, tonight," he said, going red as well as he tried to avoid her amaranth gaze.

She released a small sigh through her nose before sitting up. "Thanks, I guess." Across the grassy plain, she could see two figures sitting close to one another. One person's head was propped on the other's shoulder—the perfect representation of a happy, intimate couple.

"I'm serious, you know," Shinwoo said bluntly, regaining her attention, "I don't give out many compliments to people. You should know that by now, Rin."

"Oh, trust me, I do. Unless tiramisu is involved," she muttered, positioning her arms on either side of her and grabbing two fistfuls of grass. Shinwoo replied, but Rin was far away again, observing that couple in the distance.

The two people perked up when a third person joined them, holding drinks. The three of them laughed at something the newcomer said before accepting the beverages.

"What's wrong?" Shinwoo asked her, but she did not hear. Following her gaze, his eyes softened ever so slightly.

"Shut up, Makoto," Rin suddenly said, turning her head to the side. "I don't need your input. Don't you have other festival-goers to haunt?"

Shinwoo relaxed, knowing what—or rather, who—she was talking to. "You know, people are going to think you're crazy one day."

"Honestly?" Rin turned to him, frowning, and Shinwoo did not miss the way she momentarily turned back to observe the other couple. "I think I'm already crazy."

"Yeah," Shinwoo said. "You'd have to be. I know I'd be too."

"Welcome!"

Ryouta Rin stepped into her new home in Tokyo, careful to avoid her Aunt Masami's plump belly as the latter held the door open for the former with one thick arm. In her other arm, she held her youngest child, a brown-haired boy called Jiro. He was three and seemed to be deadpanning at everyone and everything at all times.

"It's a bit cluttered in here," Masami said apologetically, pressing her large body against the wall to allow Rin to drag her wheeled suitcases into the house. The place wasn't very big for Rin; she was used to living in far bigger places.

"It…" Rin started. She smiled. "It smells great in here." Indeed it did, and Masami blushed at the compliment.

"Thank you, dear. That would be my apple pie cooking in the oven. I put it in there before I left for the airport."

Is that safe? Rin wondered.

Seemingly reading her thoughts, Masami went on, "I left my oldest in charge. You'll meet him soon enough, he's probably doing his homework upstairs."

"Then how could he possibly be looking after the pie?" Rin demanded, sweatdropping.

"Ohoho! I like you already, my wonderful niece." Masami sighed wistfully. "So much like your mother… yet, so different as well."

Unsure if it was a compliment or not, she merely stood awkwardly in the hallway. Thankfully, Masami relieved her by sending her upstairs to unpack.

"That pie will be ready any minute," Masami promised, "Unpack as much as you can and go change into something more comfortable!"

"Right."

After hauling all of her luggage into her new room, she undressed, randomly grabbing a shirt from one suitcase. As she was putting it on, the door swung open, and a tall, tall boy stood in the doorframe.

"You must be my new onee-chan!" he declared, grinning. He cried out when she hurled a brush at him.

"Get out of here! Can't you see I'm not decent?!"

"Okay, okay! Geez!" Huffing, the boy shut the door.

If Rin remembered right, that would be Kohaku Makoto, her cousin.

"It's been a long time," she said to herself, keeping one eye on the door, just in case he decided to let himself in again. "I haven't seen that idiot kid since grade school…"

After putting on her shirt, she went downstairs, and was instantly greeted by Makoto, who was sitting at the table with a half-eaten slice of apple pie.

"Onee-chan," he said, grinning as brushed a few crumbs off his mouth. "I can call you that, right?"

"Please don't," Rin deadpanned, sitting opposite him on the medium-sized dining table. "I'm not that much older than you, dumbnut."

"Wow, that was harsh." Makoto placed a hand over his heart. "What year are you going into? I'm a first year."

"Second year," Rin said half-heartedly. When Masami joined them, leaving Jiro in the living room with the television on and putting a plate of apple pie in front of Rin, the girl thanked her aunt.

"Nice," Makoto said through a mouthful of pie. "Just a reminder though. Every school has its bastards, and there happen to be a couple at Nekoma."

"Yeah?" Rin poked at her apple pie with a fork, noting with a small amount of disgust that Makoto was using his hands to eat the pie. "Thanks for the warning. You sure you're not one of them?"

"Hey! I'm a gentleman."

"He is," Masami vouched for her son before smacking his hand. "Also, don't swear in my house."

"Sorry, kaa-chan." Then Makoto turned to Rin. "What's up with you? Just use your hands. You eat like a total priss."

"Excuse me?" Rin, affronted, glared at him. "Unlike you, I was raised right." She coughed, flushing. "No offence, oba-chan."

"None taken, none taken," Masami said amiably, "Your mother and I… we value different things in life."

They made small talk across the table, getting to know each other. At the end of their meal, Rin learned that Masami's culinary skills weren't limited to apple pie and that Makoto was a basketball prodigy with a knack for getting flirty with girls.

"So to speak, you're a pervert," Rin amended when he whispered that particular part to her. Masami had gone into the kitchen to scrub their empty plates.

"Shh! Not so loud! Besides, if you really knew me, you'd know why." Masami returned and Makoto jumped out of his seat, sliding his phone out and reversing the camera. "Family selfie! Come on, prissy sissy sis!"

"What did you just call me?!" Rin slammed her hands on the table, pushing her seat back. "You little—"

"Language!"

Grumbling, Rin entered the photo just as Masami left the frame to fetch Jiro. She came back a moment later, her three year old son in her arms. Jiro deadpanned into the camera, a stark contrast to Masami and Makoto's bright, lively smiles.

Rin smiled uncertainly. Just before Makoto pressed the button, Jiro suddenly grabbed her face.

"Onee-chan," he said, tripping over a syllable.

"Ack! Jiro—!"

The camera of the phone clicked and there was a mad scramble on Rin's part to try and see what the photo looked like. She grimaced when she saw that Jiro's chubby hand was covering most of her face. Only the right side of her face could be seen, her lips drawn back in a shout and her right eye wide with surprise.

"It's hideous," Rin complained, but Makoto wasn't hearing any of it.

"Nuh uh!" he said, wagging a finger in her face. She slapped his hand away and he pouted. "Everybody else looks really good, so no retakes!"

"You son of a—"

Masami cleared her throat and Rin clammed up instantly.

Later, Makoto managed to get a good quality scan of the image taken on his phone, and did not hesitate to shove it in Rin's face.

"Stop that!" she snapped, "You don't have to remind me of how much of a Shrek I am!"

"This is going in the family photo albulm," Makoto declared.

Rin looked to her aunt for help, but Masami simply smiled and readily agreed with her eldest son's suggestion. Sighing, Rin folded her arms.

"It could be worse, I guess," she said to herself as she rolled her eyes at Masami and Makoto.

Just days later, they were dead. A car accident. There'd been a drunk driver involved.

Rin resolved to stay away from alcohol. It wasn't a very strong one, but she was underage anyway, and wasn't looking to have a criminal record attached to her name anytime soon. Or ever, really.

A hasty funeral was arranged by Rin's mother, Masami's sister, a socialite through and through. It rained throughout the service and did not stop when Rin was escorted to her mother's limousine.

"Oh, my dear daughter!" her mother wept, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief. "I'm so, so sad... Whatever shall we do? I know you don't want to come back to Miyagi. You wouldn't mind living in your aunt's home by yourself, would you? Jiro needs you!"

For a split second, Rin considered calling out her mother on her insane bullshit. But she kept quiet; it was for the best. What kind of responsible mother would let their seventeen year old daughter look after a three year old by herself?! she screamed inside her head. Oh, but wait. This was her mother. Right, she thought with no small amount of bitterness, I'd almost forgotten.

"Yeah, sure," she said blankly, staring at her wet shoes, the rest of her attire still dry thanks to the umbrella one of her mother's assistants was holding over her. He was a man with a silver mustache. Rin briefly recalled him sneaking her the last slice of blueberry pie back at their summer villa, when she had been younger. When the world had been her oyster, because she'd been told there was nothing that couldn't be done with the right amount of hard work, dedication, and effort.

They arrived at the front of Masami's humble home, where Rin was dropped off in the rain. Her mother reached out of the car, holding her day book over her coiffed locks to defend her perm from the rain.

Rin's mother had been more than happy when she agreed to living by herself and looking after Jiro, and the woman expressed her joy by pinching her daughter's cheeks. It was brief—she didn't want to get her sleeves too wet. "Oh, dearest, you're growing up so fast! I'm sure you can handle it. I'll have Hanako drop by every Thursday to check up on you, okay?" Her mother glanced down at the watch on her wrist. "Oh, look at time! I simply must head off. I have another social to attend. I'll see you next time, pumpkin pie!"

The car zoomed off, the tires spinning and spraying water all over Rin's front. As the wetness seeped through her clothes and chilled her skin, she deadpanned at the house opposite the street, where an elderly man lived. Sometimes, she saw him peering through his curtains with a pair of binoculars. There was no sign of him today, likely because of the heavy downpour.

Her feet squelching in her shoes, she trudged to her front door, fumbling with her keys.

"Fuck this," she hissed as her keys slipped out of her hands for the nth time. Her fingers were trembling from a combination of frustration and the cold. "ARGGGH!" She let loose a shrill scream, stamping her foot on the sopping welcome mat.

Suddenly, the door opened, and a concerned Masami stood opposite Rin. Then the woman smiled, albeit sadly.

"Come inside," Masami beckoned, reaching out for Rin before thinking better of it. "I made apple pie."

"I've always preferred blueberry," Rin said lamely, entering the house. The door shut behind her. "I'm going to take a shower first."

"Of course. You're all wet, dear! Take all the time you need."

Rin resisted the urge to hug her aunt, knowing she would just phase through if she tried. "Thanks, oba-chan."

She hadn't always been able to see ghosts. In fact, she only started seeing them after Masami and Makoto died. Not to mention that they were the only ghosts that she was able to see. Or maybe there just weren't many ghosts haunting the metropolis that was Tokyo.

When she saw her dead family members for the first time, it was only natural for her to presume that she had dreamed up the past days and that her aunt and cousin were actually still alive.

Then came the freak out, when she passed through Makoto for the first time while trying to tackle him to get him to drop her bra (the pervert was still a pervert even in the afterlife apparently). She learned something new when that happened: while ghosts could not make physical contact with humans, they could still physically interact with the environment. They could pick up a pencil and draw something or pick up the remote and turn on the television for some good old basketball.

Which meant that Masami was still doing the cooking around the house. Thank god for that, because Rin couldn't cook to save her life. But she did, however, have to feed Jiro, which would have probably broken her heart had her aunt and cousin not been around.

She soon got used to the supernatural antics, much faster than she thought she would have gotten accustomed to. By the time their funeral rolled around, she had gotten completely adjusted to their presence. It was like they'd never left.

"You know, I bet everyone at school's missing me," Makoto bragged that Sunday night as he and Masami watched Rin feed Jiro. As they were ghosts, it wasn't necessary for them to eat. "I had a lot of fangirls, you know. Since you're taking my family surname to Nekoma, you might get mobbed by my fans."

"They probably would have thrown a parade when they heard the news, you pervert," Rin said snidely as Jiro swallowed his food, gurgling happily.

"Ouch! You hurt my beating heart."

Rin snickered. "No comment."

"No fighting on the dinner table," Masami scolded. "Otherwise there won't be any apple pie for dessert."

"Can ghosts even eat food? Wouldn't it just pass through?" Rin asked.

"I'm still pretty new at this ghost stuff, but I don't think so," Masami answered. "Nothing else passes through us except living, breathing humans. Or animals. Just things that are alive."

"Do plants count?"

Masami shrugged. "I don't know. There aren't many plants in Tokyo anyway, so I wouldn't worry."

"Man, this is so weird," Rin sighed, "I feel like I'm dreaming but..." She pinched herself. "This is real."

"Get used to it," Makoto said with a smug look on his face. "Because you're stuck with us. By the way, I'm coming to school with you."

"Huh?!" Rin scowled. "Why? You're dead already. What are you even going to do there? Hang out with your friends? They can't see you, you know. Not even Jiro can."

"Ghost!" Jiro gurgled. "Ghost!"

Makoto stuck his tongue out at Rin, who glared before doing the same to him.

"You two are honestly so immature," Masami sighed before getting the empty plates and dishes and putting them in the sink. "Rin, you should probably go shower and sleep now. It's getting quite late and you have school tomorrow."

"Yes, oba-chan," Rin replied, getting out of her seat and heading upstairs. "Don't you dare peek on me."

Makoto yawned obnoxiously. "Whatever. Not like there's anything to look at anyway."

"You prick!"

"Prick! Prick!" Jiro chanted, oblivious to the laughing ghost of Makoto.

"Great, now oba-chan is going to kill me," Rin muttered before disappearing up the stairs. "Hooray, we can be a family of ghosts together..." Jiro is pretty damn lucky not to see ghosts. Being a little kid must be really easy.

She paused in her train of thought as she undressed in the bathroom, the door locked shut so that neither ghost nor living person could intrude.

Or not.

There was a shrine in the main hall that wasn't there before, Kenma noted as he entered his classroom and sat down, occupying himself with his PSP. Even as he slayed monsters and leveled up, he couldn't help but have his thoughts wander back to the shrine that either his schoolmates or some teachers had put up. It was in memory of a student that had died recently—just over the weekend actually. Kohaku Makoto, if Kenma could remember correctly. He had been some popular womanizer in the first year that had also been a basketball player.

Kenma slayed another monster in his game.

Life went on.

"Where's Akane?" he heard one student ask another. The first year Aishi Akane often came into their classroom for no particular reason.

"You mean the weird girl? I heard she transferred over to some country bumpkin school."

"Nah, bro, I heard it was a really prestigious school in Miyagi."

Kenma tried not to pay them any mind, but considering that the dead first year boy had thrown the slightest wrench in his morning routine, it was harder than he expected.

"Really? What school? Shiratorizawa?"

"I think it was Aobajosai."

"Hah! Poor guys. Having to deal with the weird girl."

"I heard we're getting another student in our class today. Hopefully she's nothing like Akane."

"Maybe she's hot!"

Kenma stopped gaming and put his console away. The teacher would be coming soon. He knew because their teacher always arrived two minutes and eighteen seconds after the bell went, allowing students to socialize for a bit longer. Not that Kenma was interested in any of that.

As usual, Chinatsu-sensei was late by those precious two minutes and eighteen seconds. Kennma looked up at the clock. Nineteen seconds, this time. Chinatsu was a woman in her thirties who was still painfully single and had an odd fascination with bath bombs. She could be eccentric at time, but Kenma didn't mind. After spending months with her—she was their homeroom teacher—Kenma had become rather... desensitized to her habits and occasional rants.

"Okay, everyone," Chinatsu said, smiling at all students. "We have a new student coming into our class today. Please treat her with the same respect you would treat yourself with, okay? You can come in now!" she yelled to the side, where a girl was lingering at the doorway. In her position, she couldn't be clearly seen. All Kenma could make out was some bright orange hair. Slowly, as if she were afraid or shy—and she could be for all Kenma knew—the girl stepped into the classroom, stopping next to the teacher and turning to face the front.

The mystery girl did indeed have bright orange hair, which she wore in a loose, thick fishtail braid. Even brighter than Hinata's if that were even possible. Kenma stared at her hair for a good few seconds before taking his gaze somewhere else. Like the blackboard.

"My name is Kohaku Rin," she said steadily, taking in every single one of their faces. Her gaze stopped on Kenma a few seconds longer than it did everyone else. Her eyes were a pretty shade of red—amaranth? Possibly. "Please take care of me."

"You may call me Chinatsu-sensei, Kohaku-san. Please take a seat behind Kozume Kenma," Chinatsu ordered, her eyes going just a little bit gloomier as she recognized the last name. "It's the last seat in the last row by the window."

"Yes, sensei."

"Wait!" one boy had lifted his hand up as he spoke. "Can't we ask her some questions? She barely said anything about herself."

"Alright, as long as they're not too personal or silly," Chinatsu allowed. "Is that alright with you, Kohaku-san?"

"It's fine," Rin assured her, a gleam in her eyes. Kenma couldn't quite make out what kind of glimmer it was. Was she antsy? Excited? Kenma narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. Frustrated, perhaps? "Ask away."

One student instantly jumped at the opportunity. "What kind of guys do you like?" he asked, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"I'm not interesting in seeing anyone at the moment."

"O-oh..." Dejected, the male student put his hand down. "Man... she's cute as well..."

"What do you in your time then?" a female student asked rather obnoxiously.

"I practice my music," Rin said simply, lifting an eyebrow ever so slightly. As if she'd never considered the possibly of there being anything else important in life. She looked like she wanted to say something else, but restrained herself.

"We have time for one more question," Chinatsu informed then, "then we'll have to get started with the roll and announcements."

One girl lifted her hand up, pure curiosity in her yellow gaze. "Kohaku-chan, are you related to Kohaku Makoto?"

"Kenshin-chan!" Chinatsu reprimanded, "What did I say about personal and invasive questions—"

"It's okay, sensei, I will answer," Rin interrupted, giving her teacher a sidelong glance before answering, "Yes, he and I are related."

"Oh," the girl—Kenshin Saki—mumbled, looking ashamed. "I'm sorry for your loss."

For a second, Kenma could have sworn that Rin looked almost confused. But if she had been, she quickly recovered. "Erm, yes. Thank you. Can I go sit down now?" she added hurriedly.

"Sure thing. That was the last question anyway," Chinatsu said, gesturing to the empty seat behind Kenma.

As Rin made herself at home, Kenma put his head down and pretended to be focused on his textbook, not really wanting to have anything to do with the girl whose brother had recently passed away in a car accident.

He could hear her curse like a drunken sailor as she repeatedly searched for and failed to find her pencil case. Then she started talking. To him or someone else, he couldn't tell.

"Where the hell is it?!" Rin hissed softly, just about ready to flip her desk over in a massive rage quit.

"Kukuku," Makoto laughed as he sat on her desk leisurely. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Okay, asshole, what have you done with it?"

"I haven't done anything!" Makoto denied, grinning. "Have you tried the front pocket though?"

No, she hadn't. Grumbling, Rin unzipped the front pocket of her bag and found her missing pencil case. "I know you're behind this."

"Ah, prissy sissy sis..." the ghost tutted in mock disappointment. "You know, it's always going to be in the last place you look."

"Of course it is, dummy! Why else would I keep looking for it if I already found it!" Rin froze when her frustrated voice echoed throughout the classroom. Pretty much everyone was openly staring at her now. Coughing, Rin put her head down. "Sorry."

Makoto hopped off the desk and laughed. "Man, you're such a hoot! I can't wait to tell kaa-chan about this!"

"Shut up, Makoto," she muttered, not knowing that the boy in front of her—Kozume Kenma—could hear everything she was saying.

"Makoto?" the boy uttered under his breath, making sure that Rin was unaware that he had even spoken. "Kohaku Makoto?"

Kenma could only come to one conclusion: Kohaku Rin was weird as heck and he would do all that he could to stay the hell away from her.