new school, old faces
“Kamishiro Rui is my name,” I announce as my introduction. Several snickers from some people I recognize from last year are thrown my way, probably because of how I introduced myself.
Nobody ‘normal’ introduces themselves backward like that. It should’ve been ‘My name is Kamishiro Rui’. But I built up a habit of saying it the other way around. It helps me scope out the people who judge and the people who don’t.
Easily enough, I’m able to point out a few people who are judging me solely based on my introduction. However, there are a few that don’t snicker. And one in particular catches my eye. They don’t seem to be judging me…but rather intrigued by how I’d introduced myself.
Pink shoulder-length hair, pink eyes…they’re wearing the male uniform, like me, but…they don’t seem to be too comfortable about it. Maybe the uniform they got was just the wrong size? It’s happened to me before…
I’m unable to dwell on the situation much longer as everyone now was finished introducing themselves, and now the teacher is on to going over the class expectations, syllabus, blah-blah-blah.
The whole time, I keep finding my eyes wandering back over to that pink-haired someone. My eyes drift to them, then the clock, the teacher, someone random, back to the pink-haired someone, back to the clock, back to the teacher, to someone else, and so on until I accidentally catch the pink-haired someone’s eyes.
I quickly glance away. Eye contact is not my strong suit. However, it registers in my mind that they had flashed me a small smile right before I’d averted my gaze. Ah. I quickly look back at them. They’re still staring at me. They give me another smile, and I return it. Maybe I’ll finally have a friend here. Someone I can talk to at school…
Lunchtime. I stand in the middle of the cafeteria, my lunch in hand, and I look around. Most tables are full. The rest are occupied by at least one person. I don’t want to disturb anyone…so I instead trek upward to the rooftop to instead eat my lunch there.
I settle on a bench and begin to eat my lunch in silence, listening in on a conversation between two girls about how they don’t have any classes together.
I find myself zoning out as I idly eat my lunch, only zoning back in when shiny black loafers step into view. I glance up with raised eyebrows, curious as to whoever has come up to talk to me—or most likely ridicule me for being pathetic and sitting alone.
But my eyes don’t meet the cold, sharp ones of someone who knows how to take advantage of somebody like me. Instead, they meet the pink ones I’d noted from earlier. Ah, the pink-hair someone.
“Can I—“ I get cut off. “You’re Kamishiro Rui, right? The one that introduced himself in that somewhat weird way?” they ask me. Their voice sounds more on the feminine side. This has me confused further on whether this person is a boy or a girl or something in-between.
“Uhm…yeah. That’s me. Kamishiro Rui.” Before I can say anything else, they plop down in the spot on the bench beside me with their lunch in hand. They sit the lunch in their lap and hold their hand out to me. “Akiyama Mizuki,” they introduce themself.
I reach out and shake their hand. Their hand is rather cold.