Whoohoo, shenanigans. [Rau; Kotori.]

[Murakami Kato]

world's sleeping,

i keep dreaming for me.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,464,true][atrb=style, background: url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v723/Inra/gareki/brightgreything.png); padding: 5px; border-top: 3px solid #292929; border-left: 10px solid #292929; border-bottom: 1px dotted #292929; border-right: 10px solid #292929;] ✗✗✗ There were times where he wouldn't have said he had fantastic luck. Examples? He supposed when he managed to get lost trying to find room 3-1A and had to—fine, he could admit it, although no one else was allowed to hear about his perfectly backwards directional skills—ask somebody, or clipped himself on train handles because he was really too damn tall to move out of the way. (And perhaps inconveniently blind to the rest of the world, as they never seemed to completely register on his radar for their own elusive reasons.) Or swore loudly in front of the stuffy old couple who lived behind his house and were always looking for an excuse to take a jab at how, “Tut tut, Murakami is a family of loose cannons.” Or a long list of more embarrassing others. This was one of many such glorious times, and his face was the picture of bored discontentment. If you were to ask him, he might say he looked vaguely as though he'd just lost a bet and now had to count up his losses. His backpack was slung over his shoulder, Kato left to chew gum for as long as it would keep up its spiky cinnamon flavor in the light-washed halls. Pausing while he gestured to the club rooms, he rattled off generic Shigayomi High School information—irritated, with a sort of antsy tint to his voice. Kato was not famed for being eloquent, because shyness made him wish he was tactically—and favorably, can't forget that mention—mute. 'Would solve so many problems, wouldn't it.'

[/b] And yes, he felt that was wrong on multiple levels and had his share of aftershock guilt, but that was a technicality. And everyone knows that no one likes a technicality.

He'd been given a senpai to look over, who was "borrowed" from somewhere in Canada that he'd only read about in books and the teachers suggested could use some exposure to Shigayomi's brighter minds. (Which threw him off because he was well-aware Canada's school systems was one of the best in the world, and 'wait joking about that doesn't make sense'—only, with sudden-if-dimmed horror, then he noticed she had actually been serious and telling him to make some friends. Even a well-intentioned interloper was still an interloper.) He was not the right man for the job and, in the awkward three or so sentences they shared, successfully shot himself in the foot.

Figuratively, and with a dry, "Feeling out of place yet? Pretty heavy accent, must be a hassle. I guess you do use a lot of ehs." And he'd honestly meant for it to be a nice, safe question about Elias's opinions on Japan's exceptionally dull countryside, but failed to realize things sounded rude when he said them. (As a rule, he never bothered to seem friendly when it was easier to cling to "who cares." Apathy was his first and most trusted line of defense, but that occasionally made people think he was a smartass with a mouth.) In fact, it was not a stretch to say that he was unaware beyond a slight spark of doubt—which, in typical Kato fashion, was dying prematurely.

Somebody not taking to him was not his loss, as he liked himself just fine. He just thought it would be nice to make sure that his senpai got to class okay and with minor damage to his psyche. Being 'asked' to keep Krauer up to date with Japanese for the sake of a general examination was unexpected, but he was tutoring for his own benefit. He would manage to free up some space, and actually enjoyed that he was putting his knowledge to good use. Kato would hate to see someone fail from test anxiety or different standards overseas, since that was more or less what he would probably need to explain. (And he sort of appreciated feeling helpful, but he wouldn't flat out tell people that.)

'Teachers aren't interested in what I'm doing on my off time, though . . . so I can't really get out of it without looking lazy even if I wanted to.'[/b] Why was it that everything he did basically made him lazy in their eyes, and he dug his free hand in his pocket.


- - - -

OOC: BE PREPARED FOR NOT A WHOLE LOT OF CONVERSATION. /heisawkwardawkwardawkward

. . . that or something about a wife, but that's not any less awkward, so. Right.
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[Elias Krauer]

Boredom would be an understatement at the present moment. Elias trailed along behind his guide, idly looking at the rooms that were pointed out, the hallways they had traveled through. He stored it in his memory, making a mental map of the building. In all honesty he would rather have been fifteen places other than the school, only having showed up and gone on the tour out of necessity. He feigned interest, hands shoved in his pants pockets and the strap of his bag weighing down on one shoulder. Classrooms, halls, learning, teachers, students. School was school no matter where you were. The only thing that changed was how and the rules behind it, which was where his real curiosity lay. That was what was important.

He slid his hands out his pockets, linking his fingers behind his head. Silence from his "traveling companion" didn't bother him, and Elias was perfectly comfortable chattering away to himself, talking about nothing imparticular from drinks to cultural differences he had noticed. Anything other than things relating to himself, though he shot the occasional question towards the towering tall kid. Elias didn't consider himself short, but this kid was easily inches taller than him. And in Japan, none the less.

Elias stopped talking when Murakami spoke up, tilting his head to the side and looking at the younger student. That accent comment didn't go unnoticed. He straightened up a bit, inceasing his pace until he was close to matching the other boy's. "S'not that much ova problem. Unlike yer height. 'Least I c'n get through doorways." And a small grin crossed his face. Whether it made sense or not didn't bother Elias. The implication was there. That's all that mattered.

"S'diff'rent, but I didn't expect it t'be th' same. A city's a city, an' a school's a school, but th' people an' buildin's change. It's stupid t'go someplace an' expecting it t'be indentical t'where ya were before." He paused and gave a little. "So, it's hard t'feel outta place when y'weren't expectin' t'fit in in th' first place or even really care to. S'like... goin' ta some coffee shop an' then goin' to a diff'rent one. Y'know they won't have th' same drinks so s'not a surprise. Y'jus' adapt."

[Shimizu Kotori]

.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,400,true][atrb=style,background-image: url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v723/Inra/r07-1.jpg); background-repeat:repeat; border-right: 1px dotted #f2f2f2; border-left: 1px dotted #f2f2f2; padding: 20px; text-align: center;] Justbefriends SWEETHEART, SAYONARA, IT'S THE END! STUDY HALL WAS A PERIOD OF FIDGETING. Knee bouncing, lip chewing, and pencil flicking fidgeting. The worst part was the fact that Kotori had finally finished that book he was reading—he was always a bit of a slow reader—and sure, he could’ve brought a second book, it was just that the remainder of things he hadn’t already read in his household were obscure erotica his father had accumulated over the years. Kotori cringed at the very idea of bringing that kind of thing to school. What would his classmates say? He could imagine it now,'That weird quiet kid really is some sort of malicious pervert! It’s always the quiet ones, y’know'.

[/i] But, no, just imagine if somehow his own father walked in on him reading something like that. Kotori couldn’t’ decide if it would end in a high-five, or his father dragging him home and never letting him outside again, shouting out something about “dementing his own son” and “exposing him” and sobbing as he did it. . .Though, Kotori could admit that wouldn’t bother him. He never really did many things outside--Regardless, he couldn’t bring that kind of thing to school!

His head resting in his hands now, Kotori looked out into the hallways through the small rectangular window embedded into the entrance door of his classroom. Now, Kotori could note smiling, sitting next to the exit was pretty nice. Maybe not as nice as his seat next to the window last year, but still very, very convenient if he ever got too bored of looking at his rambling teachers. Suddenly, a quirky smile began to spread across his face—it was habitual! Really! And creepy, but Kotori knew that already—as he noticed the large, awkward figure shuffling down the hallway.

It was Murakami-kun, or in other words, Kotori’s only friend. Yes, yes, it was the kind of thing that sent Kotori hurling straight into despair. Was he really so unlikable that he’d only have one friend his whole life. . . Well, that he’d only have one friend his whole entire life that was an actually nice person. The ironic thing about it all was that this guy was supposedly, “a total badass, who’s like a tower” or whatever those guys in his gym class kept saying, and yet Murakami had never once done anything, to Kotori at least, to actually prove that rumor. From what Kotori could recall, the only strange thing the guy ever did to him was mistake him for a girl—which was actually a pretty common occurrence for Kotori, so it wasn’t that weird.

Nervously, Kotori stood up. ’We’re friends, a-aren’t we? I should say hello, or something. Or would that be annoying? Um, uh. . . Nobody will notice if I leave, so—Uh, I guess I should.’ Kotori shuffled to the sliding door, and struggled with it a bit. He couldn’t remember if it was always this heavy. . . Finally, he squeezed past it, and putting his hands and back flat against the door, mumbled,

“M-Murakami-kun.” Kotori’s eyes bugged out, ’Was that really my voice? I sound like a frog. This must be why nobody likes me, I sound like a frog. The teachers always tell me ‘Shimizu, speak up! This isn’t a mumbling contest.’ They’re right, oh, oh god. They’re so right. I wish the world was a mumbling contest, oh god.’[/i] Louder, he repeated, “U-Uh! M-Murakami-kun!”

That was when he noticed there was somebody behind Murakami. Kotori’s stomach twisted in embarrassment, why did he leave the classroom? Now he was intruding, wasn’t he? Murakami was probably skipping class like a badass with his badass friend who oozed delinquent, and Kotori was going to turn it into some flowery, lame-o fest and ruin their fun. He should just turn around, yeah. Murakami probably didn’t hear him, anyway—Or were they looking at him now? Kotori wanted to groan, he did, but that would be rude, wouldn’t it? If he groaned would he suddenly become the victim of that supposed ‘badass tower fury’? He caught his breath, remembering that Murakami and his friend probably wanted him to say something now. Stuttering, Kotori spat out,

“U-uh, um—so, what’re y-you guys doing, huh? D-Do you mind if I-I join you, hahah. . .?” Again, his eyes bugged out. What was he saying, even? Nothing, that’s what. Murakami was his friend, sure, but who said Murakami wanted him around? Sure, they’d done a lot of things together; Kotori even went to his baseball games and everything, but why would Murakami want someone lame like him stinking up his—Wait. Everything suddenly clicked,

“O-oh! That must be the transfer student, r-right? Ahah, you’re the one giving him a tour? Mm, al-alright. Can I still come along? Studyhallisreallyboringyouknow.” Kotori’s face was hot, he was blushing, probably. This happened to him a lot. Really, if he didn’t have to worry about his damned father, he’d of already allowed himself to die of embarrassment a long time ago. Kotori looked at the two of them, with their cool, delinquent, manly-like aura, and quickly averted his eyes. Oh, maybe he should’ve really stayed in that boring classroom after all.



ooc//: HOREY SHEET. HE CAME OUT SO MUCH CUTER THAN I HAD ANTICPATED. Awuh, writing Kotori is so fun, and so painful. I can’t believe I wrote so much, eitherShutupthisisalotofwritingforme. Hurhur, he’s fun.[/div][/td][/tr][/table]

MADE BY SAMEDI

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[Murakami Kato]

world's sleeping,

i keep dreaming for me.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,464,true][atrb=style, background: url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v723/Inra/gareki/brightgreything.png); padding: 5px; border-top: 3px solid #292929; border-left: 10px solid #292929; border-bottom: 1px dotted #292929; border-right: 10px solid #292929;] ✗✗✗ 'Hah, little prick—!' He went red-faced at the mention of height, and struggled to keep from letting it show on his face. (With how transparent he was, his effort was in vain. Made obvious in that he couldn't decide whether to "tch!" and turn or just stand there.) Amused, irritated and forgetting to reign in his Nice Guy persona in lieu of this new challenge, Kato leaned in—grinning impishly and all shyness lost when he might have been insulted, "What can I say." And he ruffled Krauer's mop of hair, in that easy way a Big Brother does to the sibling he's stuck with. "I was born with a complex. Guys from the west should know where I'm coming from—forgot, you're the exception to the rule. Sorry, sorry." He would get his charity hours in, Transfer Student. What better way than helping out tourists, and he dropped his hands and hid the right in his pocket again. Conscience wincing, it didn't take long to have regrets. Standing on so high a pedestal made him smug. 'Urgh. But then, doesn't matter, does it . . .'

[/b] His brand of anger was short-lived but too common. And, past the grin, Kato would have said he didn't want to feel any. When he was a kid, he had a bitter attitude and a spitfire temper; saw red in his stare as though the entire world were dyed in it. No one seemed especially important—just commodities left to keep things interesting. Back then it was about making himself known in the world.

'Who needs to worry about it anymore?' And that thought was dead. As long as his anger was in check, he liked to believe he could think the best of everyone. (And that they might do the same for him.)

Kato would bite down on too much feeling as he bit his tongue, keeping it quiet where he could. Gruff again after his confidence burned away, he settled on a 'good' answer, "Hmm." His life was spent exploring fifteen miles of nothing, and it brought on a dry, 'What an impressive guy. I can pay tribute to that, senpai . . .' An uprooting of everything you knew was not taking it black over the counter. It should be an old bruise. 'I'm not ready for that sort of thing,'[/b] but everything he saw in crisp magazine pages and on computer screens left him curious.

There was the silence that comes with being strangers, and he was busy beating himself up for letting his temper slip. Stifling a yawn, he gave up on anymore sad attempts at 'talking'—the mysterious phenomena it was—until a very broken stream of stuttering, "—eh? Shimizu? Why are you. . ." lurking in the shadows like some pervert lusting over his favorite loli action figure. (Everyone knows your dad is better fodder for that.) Having a good time talking to that door. Not in study hall, but that last one was missing some zing.

"Even asking!" A dark sense of comedy fell flat with Shimizu, and he slung an arm around him and probably sent him stumbling. The two met through special circumstances—an afternoon in a club two years ago, tacked on to each other because neither really spoke much. At the tender and impressionable age of thirteen, he must have thought he was the cutest girl he'd ever met. It was adorable when girls stutter and smile and he'd even called him chan for a while there. Shimizu Kotori could be the perfect little sister he never had.

Turns out that wasn't true. That was—not true. The experience left him head-down on his desk, canned soda in one hand and a blanket of woe hung in the air. ("Why are you so dead this morning?" ". . . . Depression.") Recovering from the shock was not an easy feat, even if it was only a day's worth of gender confusion.

But recover he did! A hit to his boyhood dreams of being the Big Brother never left scars—some part of him would say that it was battered everyday, considering his mother's babying and headstrong Ouhi. He played off the incident for laughs now, calling their clumsy friendship "destiny!" and poking fun at how Kotori was the perfect wife. (And that he would be so loathe to have to let him go, complete with dramatics. "I can understand Sensei's pain! The world is too cruel!" Gratuitous gestures included.) At the end of it, they both shared a quiet, mild approach to life. Kato hoped he didn't mind being dragged into the limelight, but that thought caught up with him ten seconds too late.

He might have called Kotori his best friend, but he got the sense he wasn't well-liked and so Kato shied away from the prospect. (And saying so was barely classy. Guys have male ways of bonding, like rivaling each other out on the baseball field. Kotori was the type who handed out juice in the stands. The disparity left him baffled sometimes.) Grinning, he took the stuttering in stride, "Yep, this is—" His grasp of the pronunciation wasn't fantastic. "Klauel-san. You guys should be in the same year, so treat him well in my stead, Shimizu!"

OOC: WELL, I GUESS THEY'RE ALL SKIPPING CLASS NOW. :"D For shame. /headshake

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[Elias Krauer]

From the corner of his eye, Elias saw a tint of red on the face of his guide. Had he hit a sore spot there? He would have to make a mental note of that. It wasn't anything too important to remember, and nothing of value would be lost if he didn't, but there was always a good game in teasing others. Elias would just have to watch his step, though, until he knew where Murakami stood on the temper scale. As fun as it was, it could be easily ruined by one little misstep, and he quite liked the way his face was arranged as was.

Elias paused, leaning back as the younger student learned forward. Invasion of personal space didn't particularly bother him, but that didn't stop the wary feeling he got. His shoulders hunched, and an annoyed little growl vibrated in his throat as one hand ruffled his hair, though he just smoothed it out, running a hand through it after Murakami was done. Short jokes. Elias should have expected one of those. He just gave a shrug, shoving his hands in his pockets with a hint of a smile. "Some chicks like shorter guys."

Once again, silence fell. Elias let Murakami take the lead, following step a short distance behind. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched the taller kid. The blonde boy prided himself on his obversation skills, and the more he could learn the better for him. A steady process, and one Elias didn't mind taking his time with. It was, after all, impossible to know everything about a person after only one encounter.

The stretching silence was irritating, and the need to hear something welled up within Elias, threatening to spill over into another ramble. Just as he was about to, a jumble of stuttered words hit his ears. The boy paused, listening to the little exchange. Another added aventurer on their boring trek through the wilderness of school? What had he heard? Shimizu? These two obviously knew each other, though. Elias hung back, content on listening until his name was mentioned. Ah, right. Japanese and their weird pronunciation.

He stepped forward, giving a little shrug and a grin. "Feel free to call me Rau. Easier to remember than Krauer." The same year as him, huh? This little tour as turning out to be a bit more interesting than he had first thought. "So, hey, what do you guys do for fun around here?"