Hey there, I decided to give writing another try. I'm a bit rusty at this so be a little forgiving. Anyway, this fic, set around a year after, is in honor of Sendoh, who's always been known as a pretty flat character. Thanks to naubs, and baba-darling for the editing and ideas. Rina, my lovely beta reader, you know I owe you.
Erm, hope you guys like it. D
Chapter One
The PA system blared, "Sendoh Akira. Sendoh Akira of Class III- 4. Your presence is requested in the Guidance Center now."
Basically every neck in class twisted to get a view of the tall boy in the back row of the class. He gave his peers a sheepish smile, scratched his head, and gave the professor an apologetic nod before proceeding towards the door, his spiky hair brushing the top of the beam.
Whispers broke out before he even slid the door close. Guidance Center? He can't possibly be in trouble! He heard a few girls gasp at the implication. The prospect of him being called on account of mischief was simply unlikely to contemplate. And the fact that it happened on the first day of class made it downright impossible!
He was vaguely aware of the fact that the professor was trying to calm the whole class down. His thin, reedy voice reverberated across the classroom. "Alright, no more speculations. Akira is a nice kid, and that's that… it probably has something to do with the basketball team. Now let's get back to solving this equation."
Sendoh strolled towards the Guidance Center, looking thoughtful, as if contemplating his past few actions to see which one was worthy enough to have him be called in. He looked genuinely confused… the whole class had been too, for the GC was a place for kids who were caught getting into fights, caught having raunchy sex with everyone, caught with overflowing detention slips, caught cheating, caught on blah blah blah. Nothing involving a fine upstanding young man like Sendoh Akira, of course.
The boy turned left on the corridor, looking impassive as opened the first door with the label of Guidance Center engraved in a little gold plate. He saw the secretary typing, one letter at a time with the usage of both index fingers on the keyboard. He coughed, and gave her a polite smile. She jumped with a start, unconsciously putting her hand on her chest.
"Oh my, Sendoh-san. You musn't startle me like that!" She adjusted her glasses and rheumatic hands involuntarily shaking, trying to pick up the pencil she had dropped earlier. The boy's polite smile gave in to a full blown-grin. The secretary, with three grandchildren of her own, still thought how adorable this young man was.
She gave him a warm and reassuring smile. "Why don't you have a seat? Dr. Ishii will be with you in a moment."
He thanked her, flashed a smile again, and sat down in one of the comfortable leather seats, looking as if he was trying hard not to worry. The secretary's heart just went out to him. What a nice boy he really was. "Don't worry, I'm sure it isn't anything serious. Would you like a lollipop?"
She handed him one even before asking the question. He looked baffled when he got the large, round treat in his hand, wondering what to do with it. She could understand his confusion though; that was usually the reaction for first-timers in the Guidance Center. Although what he had done to cause the merit of a visit here was odd to her. This kid in front of her had the reputation of being the kindest, most gentlemanly, not to mention most responsible student in his whole batch. In fact, the secretary would warrant that it was the case even in the whole history of Ryonan High school. She just couldn't figure out why on earth that Dr. Ishii would want this model student in his office first thing in the morning.
She gave out a heavy sigh when she saw Sendoh Akira unwrap his lollipop and blink like a lost little boy.
When the doctor ushered him into his office, Sendoh Akira thanked the gods for sparing him the long wait, and waited for the bombshell that was about to be dropped. He tried not to let a look of boredom cross his face each time the tiny man exclaimed what a "fine man" he was whilst rummaging through his papers in the messy desk. Sendoh heard him briefly say, "Aha! Found it!" and almost groaned.
I'll kill him if it's a lollipop.
It turned out to be a sheet of paper covered in numbers. The doctor excitedly wore his spectacles, his hands trembling as he prepared to deliver the news.
"Sendoh-kun…"
The doctor held his breath, prolonging the moment of suspense.
"You just scored highest in the IQ test in the batch! Congratulations!"
Oh, he thought.
That was it? He wasn't at all astonished by that announcement. He was actually anticipating a scene somewhat like it ever since he heard his name being called. But the difference was, he was imagining more along the lines of getting the highest results in the whole high school, not just the batch. Still, that wasn't bad if he beat every student his own age in the whole of Japan.
For Dr. Ishii's sake, he tried his best to muster a look of what would seem like an expression of pleasant surprise. His face almost cracked from the exertion, as he vigorously shook the older man's hand. And then he performed the trademark move which always guaranteed people to think he was some clueless jock with basketballs for brainshe scratched his head.
"Anou… Ishii-sensei…" he started, clasping his hands together in his lap.
The doctor paused in his quest of searching for another piece of paper somewhere in his desk and gave the student his whole attention. "What is it, Sendoh-kun?" he asked gently, as if talking to God's greatest gift on earth. Ishii-sensei thought he saw something smirk-like flit across Sendoh's openly trusting features. But he dismissed it as soon as he heard his next words.
"I'd… I'd really appreciate if you don't tell anyone of the results."
Ishii looked taken aback by his unexpected request. As if to answer his questioning stare, the boy grinned disarmingly at him and explained, "It's no big deal. I just don't want people to treat me any differently or anything." And then he scratched his head again, as if embarrassed by this whole ordeal.
Again, the doctor wondered how such a modest, pure being like this boy could exist in this God-forsaken place called Ryonan High, a high school populated by overgrown bullies and brats. He personally thought that Sendoh Akira was some miracle sent to the school to balance the rest of the students' corrupt and evil ways. How he could remain untainted by them would always be a mystery to him. The rest of the school staff knew him too… he was an inspiration to most of them.
He coughed so the young man in front of him wouldn't notice the tear that was threatening to trickle down his eye. Couldn't let young Akira be thinking of this unusual behavior by his guidance counselor, could he? He turned around and swiped a Kleenex, trying to be unobvious while he dabbed at the wetness in the corner of his eye. He whirled around and clasped Sendoh's shoulder saying, "Of course. You can count on me."
Meanwhile, Sendoh inwardly gaped at the doctor. Was the old fart actually crying? Did he just wipe a tear away? God…
He decided to hightail it out of there just in case he suddenly chose to get all weepy on him, and discuss the unmentioned and dreaded subject of "feelings". The sight of old men crying was never a good sign, so all he needed was to shake his hand again, and run back to class. He hurriedly shook Ishii's hand, cramming a couple of tissues in it afterward for fear that the counselor would start shedding some tears in front of him again.
He clasped both of his hands together and gave a deep bow to the doctor, meekly saying, "Thank you so much, sensei. I'll see you next time…"
…when you aren't blubbering like a woman.
He jogged back to his classroom, just in case Dr. Ishii elected on wanting to catch up and saying something else to him.
After sliding the classroom door open, he threw another contrite look at the professor for the disturbance in his class, but his attempts at making eye contact were unsuccessful for the aforementioned adult was busy discussing something with a student at the front. Quietly going back to his seat, he watched his physics professor frantically wave a slip of paper while berating an unfamiliar boy.
The boy in front was dressed in a white shirt that was at least four sizes too large for him. Black denim pants clad a pair of slender legs. Three studs pierced the lobe of the left ear, while a thick silver band conspicuously gleamed on the upper part of his right one. A backpack was carelessly slung on his shoulder, and his hand kept on shifting to try to keep in place a large black guitar case that was strapped on the other shoulder. In his right hand, he grasped what looked to be like a silver thermos.
Sendoh would have preferred to scrutinize the boy more, but his conversation with the professor was proving much more interesting at the moment.
The professor was gesturing frantically with his hands. "You aren't supposed to be here, Nagata. Class III-10, remember? Always in 10. This is 4. III-4." The number '4' was clearly emphasized.
Pretty much every face in class had a look of worry once they heard the phrase "Class III-10". Of course, everyone knew how all the assholes, the bullies, and other similarly classified delinquents ended up in 'section 10'. And stayed there. Of course, if one got away from underneath the label, it wasn't to go to a better section like a '4'. No, it was usually to end up in jail. So what was that boy doing here?
Twenty-five faces blatantly gaping faces peered at the newcomer, as if everyone had the same question in mind. Nagata merely shrugged and said, "I think I just got promoted, sensei."
The professor gawped and choked. "You just c-can't be promoted! It's unheard of! It's…" he stared at the slip, the intention to send Nagata back to Class 10, where he rightfully belonged, evident on his face. He stole a glance at the slip of paper again and did a double take. The class saw his hand trembling as he appeared to read the paper again.
Watanabe-sensei gave out a heavy sigh. Of course, of course he was wrong. Of course he had just embarrassed himself in front of the students. He glared at Nagata. "Very well. It seems the principal himself has taken care of the proceedings. You may sit in the back row next to our model student, Sendoh Akira."
The professor irately continued, "Sendoh-kun, I want you to tell me if he makes trouble."
Sendoh blinked, feeling himself being eyed by the professor, by a couple of students, and by Nagata himself. The boy looked like he was about to say something, but quickly shut his mouth. The professor stared hard at Nagata's retreating back, as if he expected the student to morph into something inhuman and devour them all when they weren't looking. Watanabe turned to Sendoh in question, who found himself nodding to the order.
Right… playing baby-sitter to a delinquent was always a favorite hobby of his.
He looked on as his new seatmate placed his thermos on the desk and carefully laid the guitar at his side, so that now it occupied the space between them. As he settled, he opened his thermos, lounged back, and sipped his coffee, looking very much, Sendoh thought irritatedly, like a young man relaxing on a sidewalk café. Up close, he noticed that Nagata had red highlights on his short dark hair that stuck in every direction, and mentally compared it with his own.
Thank God my hair is all nice and shiny...
Sendoh distractedly glanced at the girl who sat in front of him, as she softly spoke to her friend, referring to Nagata as "good-looking". Good-looking? He almost snorted. Okay, he wasn't painful to look at… fine features and all… unconcerned expression permanently attached to his face… scrawny little thing, he was.
But apparently, Nagata had still caused some kind of commotion in the class. With his reputation of coming from the notorious 'section 10'? Probably. With his looks? Not likely, Sendoh thought. Not that he was worried or anything. He wasn't really disturbed by Nagata's potential threat in Class III-4's Pretty Boy Hierarchy. In his humble opinion, Sendoh thought that he was still better looking.
With that thought in mind, he grinned and resumed taking notes.
Nagata Kaoru, meanwhile, looked to be a bit lost in thought as he sipped his Hawaiian Cona. He had currently given up the act of throwing insolent looks at the physics professor and had instead adapted a bored-stiff type of face that would have been a surefire way to piss off Watanabe. That is, if he glanced his way. And Watanabe never did.
The boy stared at his desk for a couple of seconds, and then took out a blue spiral notebook. He looked at it intently, and as if realizing something, turned to his seatmate, Sendoh Akira, who was looking engrossed in the lecture, scribbling madly at his notebook. As if he thought not to bother him, Nagata turned to the other side, where he found a girl gazing at him in a quite loving manner.
"Hi," she said.
An eyebrow rose in reply.
"You need anything?" she inquired, batting her long lashes at him.
He paused, as if contemplating to answer or not. "A brain for the professor, if you have it."
She giggled. "As if!"
Nagata's jaw imperceptibly twitched.
"Anything else?" She gave him an openly flirtatious smile. Something like revulsion darted on his face, but disappeared as the unconcerned face slipped back. When he didn't answer, she scribbled something onto a Post-It and forced it into his hand. "If you ever do need anything. My number."
"Ah," he said dryly.
After a couple of seconds, he sipped his coffee and stared ahead.
What exactly was in Nagata's mind, as he was calmly drinking his brew? That this brew that he was drinking was very good coffee, of course. Well, we already know that, since he wouldn't keep on gulping it down if it were the bad type of coffee, would he? Right. Aside from the taste of coffee, what was really on his mind? What was causing him to furrow that brow of his and gaze vacantly into space? So much, in fact that Watanabe was contemplating to himself to ask if the boy was stoned or not.
Well, of course you'd look pretty stoned too, if just this morning, you learned that you'd be torn away from your friends, as poor Nagata did when he found out that he no longer belonged in Section 10. Why, he didn't even get a chance to say goodbye and was just banished from the class as if he'd sold his mother to the black market!
Of course you'd look like Nagata if your professor in the first period didn't want you around and kept on doubting your word, the way Watanabe did. If your professor stared at you like you were some cockroach he wanted to step on, but couldn't because his feet would get dirty. As the said professor had stared at him while standing in front of the class.
Of course you'd look like Nagata if you had someone like Sendoh Akira (the boy who had the most horrible goody-two-shoes-reputation he had ever encountered in his life) to report your every move to some schmuck like Watanabe.
And of course, you'd look like unfortunate Nagata, if everyone thought you were a boy when you actually were not.
Of course.
Nagata Kaoru may have been lacking a few proper bulges in her front, but that didn't mean that she had the bulge… down there. Nope, no certain bulges bulging where they shouldn't be. Definitely not a boy.
Now he, or rather, she was downing the rest of her coffee, wondering why the professor in Class III-4 was an idiot who had to sic the rest of the class on her back. She was also wondering why she couldn't comprehend a thing in the lesson the professor kept on yakking about. She had earlier looked to… she stared at the crumpled paper… Azumi Sakura… but she doubted that the girl copied the notes that were already erased from the board.
The bell finally rang, and the incompetent Watanabe hurriedly continued on erasing everything he'd written down, as if he feared that someone intellectually inclined would catch a mistake and contradict his lecture. He bade the class goodbye, but not before catching Nagata's eye, nostrils flaring and screaming, "Nagata! Uniform!", and then stalked out.
She was indifferent to his comment about not being in uniform. The adjustments that were being made to her skirt weren't finished, according to the tailor, and she wasn't in any mood to hold a gun to his head and tell him to speed it up. Her only concern right now was getting some nice neat notes so that she could understand the lesson.
She thought of asking them from Sendoh Akira, the model student. She'd heard of his reputation from all her classmates, aside from the personnel in school that she had encountered. They always seemed to be praising him. Only the hardcore assholes in Class III-10 disliked him. They disliked him because, according to everyone, he was perfect. Basketball player, Mr. Responsible, Youth Volunteer of the Year, popular guy, nice, attractive gentleman…
Right, if he was perfect, he'd definitely be owning the best notes in class.
She turned to him, catching him in a middle of a huge yawn. With his mouth hanging open like that, she saw that he wasn't really that attractive. He abruptly shut his mouth when he found her spying. She cleared her throat, "Hey, may I borrow your notes?"
He scratched his head, somewhat similar in motion to the orangutans she watched in National Geographic. "For this class?"
He sounded, she was about to describe him with a rude adjective, but remembered to be politically correct… He sounded cerebrally challenged. She prayed to God he had good notes. "Yeah. I didn't get to copy the first part."
He handed her the closed notebook and smiled, saying, "I'm Sendoh Akira."
"Nagata Kaoru." She nodded at him, and then glanced at the notebook. "I'll give it back as soon as I copy it down."
He gave her a pleasant smile. "No problem."
Yeah, Sendoh Akira was most definitely a refreshingly nice person. All the things they said about him were probably true too. Like how he turned down the presidency of the student council because he didn't want it to interfere with his schedule in volunteering for the home for the aged. Like how he'd settle fights in the middle of nowhere, and become friends with the troublemakers. Like how he'd stop by to talk to school janitors, and smile at girls who went unnoticed by other guys. Sendoh Akira was one of those rare people who in all probability had a golden heart.
Nice boys were also a nice change from what she was used to in Section 10. She was going to study as hard as she could to stay in this class and not go back to the riotous classroom where even the teachers were afraid to go to class. Not that it wasn't fun, of course. They just didn't learn anything.
She opened the standard blue spiral notebook to the first page, eyes scanning anything that resembled the lecture she halfway tuned out thirty minutes ago. Nothing. She tried to find the Greek-sounding equations which made her feel obtuse. Nothing.
Instead, the first page she had turned to consisted of angry scrawls in black and red. Her eyes went to the first name she recognized. The teacher's. It said on the page of the notebook, Watanabe is a balding egghead.
Sendoh Akira is number one.
Die, Rukawa Kaede, die.
Under the name Rukawa were a few scribbled adjectives that were squiggled in almost illegible handwriting. From what she could decipher, this Rukawa Kaede was a lazy, good-for-nothing, pasty-skinned, anemic, idiotic, son of a bitch. Written across his name was Sendoh's, with his list consisting of descriptions in neat characters. Smart, handsome, model student, model citizen, most admired basketball player.
She turned the next page and found a gruesome comic strip. In the first box, two stick figures in what looked to be a basketball court were facing each other. The first stick figure, who had gravity-defying hair, clutched a basketball in his puny twig-like hands. Sendoh Akira. The second stick figure's face looked like a gargoyle with… what was that? Drool? Yeah, drool running down its chin. In a little speech bubble, the gargoyle said, I'm going to beat you, Sendoh. Ahehehahahaha! The Sendoh stick figure's bubble said, Kiss my ass, you bastard.
This is so retarded, Nagata thought. But like most persons who can't stop themselves from still watching the most horrifyingly disgusting scenes, she couldn't help herself from finishing the amateurish comic strip laid before her.
Her eyes strayed to the second box, where the gargoyle, having snatched the basketball away, was having its head torn off by the Sendoh stick figure. The gargoyle said, Nyaaaaaaarrgh! In the next box, Sendoh managed to sever the head off from its neck, complete with grisly red splotches on the drawing, signifying the blood spurting all over from the gargoyle's veins. In the following strips, she saw the Sendoh stick figure dribbling the decapitated head and slam-dunking it into the ring with all his might, complete with the lamest battle cry she'd ever heard of in the speech bubble, Yaaaaaaa!
The next drawing was of Sendoh standing up, and pointing to the gargoyle head lying motionless on the floor, flies swarming around it and little worm-like figures crawling out of the nostrils. Who's laughing now, Rukawa? I'll always be number one! The morbid storyline ended at the next box, the ghastly sight of the gargoyle's body standing in the center of the court still clutching the basketball, with Sendoh's maniacal laughter of 'Muekekekekekekeke' drifting in the background.
She put the notebook down and noticed that she was at the back and not the front of it, where the real notes were supposed to have been. She stared at Sendoh, who was at that time sharpening a pencil for a classmate. He found her glancing at him after a minute and immediately a good-humored smile appeared on his face.
Sendoh was sharpening pencils for the girl in front of him who was gushing how strong he was and helpful he was in sharpening her goddamn pencil. Pencils, for crying out loud. Pencils! He was in the middle of debating whether to go to the bathroom to escape her stupidity or poke her in the eye with her stupid pencils when he felt himself being scrutinized by the one and only Nagata Kaoru. Pretty Boy himself.
Sendoh did the customary smile, but was surprised when Nagata didn't reciprocate it. After all, he had borrowed his notebook and was supposed to be trying to make friends with him. No, Nagata was still eyeing him with an impassive expression.
Sendoh's smile vanished. What was this guy's problem? Was he all right in the head? Maybe he was just threatened because Sendoh was more appealing than he was. He probably hoped to come here to section III-4 and win all the ladies to his side and wasn't expecting to face someone more superior like Sendoh.
He noticed how Nagata really looked like. Too pale. Too many earrings. Too tight pants. Stupid chunky boots which would have been in style a decade ago. Too large shirt which was slipping down on his shoulder… he ogled as a thin strap on Nagata's shoulder got uncovered by the shirt. A thin strap that looked exceptionally like… His eyes narrowed and his hands stopped in their motion of sharpening the pencil.
Wait, was this guy actually wearing a bra?
Nagata gazed blankly at the blackboard and thought of the drawings and doodles of the supposedly most-exemplary student of Ryonan High…
Sendoh stared at Nagata, a suspicion forming in his mind that the pretty boy was in fact, a cross-dresser who liked wearing women's underwear…
As Sendoh unconsciously inched his chair away from her, and Nagata tried to put the psychotic pages in his notebook out of her head, a single thought entered both of their minds at the same time. They surveyed each other warily.
What.
A.
Freak.