Work Text:
~
If Taro could sum up his life in one word it would be “ordinary.” Everything was as expected: his parents earned average wages in cubicles at business companies; his little sister was cute, but had a tendency to annoy him the way only younger siblings could; his childhood friend wasn’t someone he would willingly befriend in the present day, but their friendship continued due to knowing each other for so long; he lived in a stereotypical suburban home within walking distance of his high school in a quiet and average neighborhood.
And people wondered why he preferred to spend his time getting lost in a good book than interact with the dull world around him.
When he was younger, he read manga and books that explored the fantastical--events so extraordinary that they could only ever occur in fiction. As he grew older, he found himself more drawn to more realistic tales. Sure, he read slice-of-life and non-fiction stories, but what really engaged him were the works about the everyday but not--normal but skewed every so slightly that it led to nightmarish circumstances and the ordinary, mundane, nonsensical everyday life only led to inescapable misery. Works like those written by Franz Kafka.
He read somewhere that you could live with a man for 70 years and never truly know him, but bring a man to the edge of a volcano with the threat of death hanging over his head and he will reveal all that he is. He liked the mixture of these two circumstances that Kafka brought out in his stories, the same for those who wrote similarly.
While he longed for some excitement in his life, Taro didn’t wish to alter the mundane of his life entirely, just wished for a change in perspective like all the other protagonists to add new depth and color to his dull existence. Under the right circumstances, he was certain he would even welcome a new bizarre normal should the moment arise.
And then his wish came true.
~
Akademi High School was a very prestigious establishment, so much so that the overall population was a little over 100 people. Though the school’s high reputation had little to do with Taro’s enrollment: it was relatively close to his home and the school had a dedicated English course that would not only cover the English language, but it’s literature as well. The class would also apply units towards his college courses and allow him a greater chance of being accepted to a university overseas should he choose to pursue his education outside of Japan.
He had hoped that he would find at least one person within that English class who saw the world and books how he saw them--hoped to find a kindred spirit. A month into his first year, Taro resigned himself to his lone seat on the courtyard fountain and the company of his books.
Come the time his second year began at Akademi, he planned to just get through high school and expand his horizons at university, hopefully among people who didn’t criticize his every move like Osana did.
He had been roped into the welcoming committee to pin white carnations onto the uniforms of the incoming freshmen. One after another he weaved the long pin in and out of gakuran. A mix-up with the number of carnations to each committee member led to a classmate asking him for the last flower in his box. Taro handed over the flower without any fuss, looking over the committee member’s shoulder towards the first year waiting for her ceremonial carnation.
At first glance, she was average with dark hair, dark eyes, average height, and average build. He meant to look away then, but his eyes remained on her as she maneuvered her features into a smile for the committee member whom he had given his last flower to. Her movements were as close to natural as one could get, but they were just that, unnatural. Even when she went to take her position amongst the other first year students Taro watched her and the practiced way she moved and interacted with her peers.
She was so exceedly normal in how she conducted herself, but the slight hesitation of her gestures, the blankness of her stare, the hollowness of her smile--it was like she was playing pretend. How was no one catching on to this--to her?
Maybe she wasn’t extraordinary, but she was most definitely not ordinary and that alone was enough to add some color into Taro’s seemingly bland world.
~
Taking a foreign language was mandatory at Akademi High. However, those who pursued to learn English were required to take their course with Jonzu Haruri (Fureddo’s uncle), who taught English language along with English literature. The class was taught entirely in English, students having had to have tested into the class with a proficient skill in the language (both orally and written). Each year had their own hour with Jonzu-san, meaning that each grade also had their own hour dedicated to a foreign language class. Meaning: the first years would precede the second years, who preceded the third years.
Everyone in the school knew this, everyone knew and thought nothing else of it including Taro.
Until he found a folded piece of paper under his desk when he entered English one day.
There was a list of titles and their corresponding authors on the page, written in clean Roman lettering. A note at the bottom was addressed to a Rise-chan, but that’s not what caught Taro’s eye at all. What piqued his interest was the fact that a majority of the books on the list were kafkaesque.
Whoever had written this was a lover of Kafka and similar stories. Not “Rise-chan,” but whoever had written to the addressed. Taro handed the paper over to Jonzu-san, who thanked him--his aged eyes taking in the words and tutting at the name Rise-chan.
“No doubt Aishi-san wrote this for Mitsurugi-san. Those two are far advanced compared to the other first years.” He smiled at Taro. “If I could only transfer them into your class, we may be able to keep them out of note-passing mischief.”
Aishi-san wrote this.
Aishi-san.
Aishi.
The seemingly ordinary sounds moved around and on his tongue in a way they hadn’t before, adding a new texture to the syllables.
Perhaps he really did have a kindred spirit roaming the halls of Akademi High--it was just a shame that they were in different grades.
~
Taro normally sat at the courtyard’s fountain during lunch, reading a book while eating to pass the time--nodding absently as Osana rambled at him if she were to join him that day if Raibaru-chan was too busy to occupy her. However, the courtyard had been closed off as someone (most likely one of the delinquents who frequented the back of the school) had loaded the fountain with soap, causing the whole courtyard to overflow with suds.
Thus here he was leaning against one of the railings of the roof overlooking the bubble-filled courtyard below. The few benches were occupied by other students, none of whom he was particularly close to enough to join their lunchtime social circle.
A trio of girls clustered near his vicinity. He had been ignoring them in favor of his book, but became interested when he heard one of them giggle out “Rise-chan.”
His eyes shot up from his book, taking in the green-haired girl who continued to giggle and swat at the red-head of their group. Rise-chan. Mitsurugi-san. Mitsurugi Rise. She had to be the first year the book list had been addressed to. Then …
The green-haired girl was definitely not Aishi-san. He may not be very observant or sociable, but he knew the girl was in his class the year prior, making her a second year.
Then he saw her.
The girl from the opening ceremony, the one who received the last carnation and gave a false smile in return. She held a slender hand up to her demurely curved lips, her eyes black half moons--her whole being in parody of mirth. Her movements had improved since the beginning of the year, more fluid and her expression more natural looking on her elegant features. Her eyes remained a hollow black-brown even as Mitsurugi-san rounded on her and shot off some scathing remark. Her eyes had narrowed and her lips quirked into a smirk as a witty reply was tossed back at Mitsurugi-san--still her eyes were a seemingly endless abyss.
The red-head just crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.
“Ooh! Yan-chan got you good, Rise-chan!” Jeered the second-year. “Now you definitely have to read that Kamina book she recommended.”
“It’s Kafka, Midori-chan,” corrected Yan-chan. “Franz Kafka.”
Who knew an abyss could bring his world to such heights?
~
Aishi-san.
Yan-chan.
Ayano.
It honestly didn’t take very long to uncover her name, what with the population of their school. He just had to pass by the shoe lockers a few times inconspicuously to find hers. Figures it would be on the opposite side of the hall from him.
He paid closer attention to the first year classrooms he passed on his way towards the courtyard during lunch, never finding her in either. It could only mean that she normally ate on the roof with her friends.
He was inclined to change his routine, to sit on the roof during lunch instead of in the courtyard. But then Osana would hound him about the change--unrelenting in her inquiries as she was in everything else she did.
But then how else was he supposed to talk to Aishi-san about Kafka? About books? About the artfully done charade she went about with everyday? About her vacant gaze and how she saw the world?
He wondered if her reality was just as oppressively extraordinarily ordinary as he imagined it--wondered if she could share with him what it was like.
~
Midori Gurin was not in Taro’s class, but she was in Osana’s. Now Taro may have been meek, but that didn’t mean he beat around the bush. Under other circumstances, he would have gone up to Gurin-san and asked her if she knew anyone who liked Kafka--his excuse being the research paper for English due at the end of term regarding major influences on English literature (he was delighted to find out that a student in the first-year class had chosen the same topic as him) and wanted to bounce off ideas with a like minded individual. The problem was that Osana would not take that as an excuse to seek someone out.
He could already imagine her with hands on her hips, calling him a weirdo idiot. “Since when do you talk to anyone about your creepy books, much less want their input?” the Osana in his head bit out.
Word would get back to Hanako and then it would be all “Big brother, why don’t you ever ask me about your books? I could help. Let me help!” And then nothing would get done and he still wouldn’t have been able to talk to anyone who actually appreciated the stories and authors he read.
None of that mattered as Gurin-san skipped into his classroom to stand in front of his seat before the first bell rang.
“Yamado-san?” she asked with a tilt of her head and an absent smile on her face.
“Yes? Can I help you?”
“You’re the second-year doing his paper on Franny Kamina, right?”
It took Taro a moment to decipher what she was talking about. “... Franz Kafka, yes.”
“Right. Right. I have a friend in the first-year English class and she’s doing her paper on Kappy, too. She won’t admit it, but she needs help. She’s crazy good at analysis but she has trouble with the emotional stuff. I figured she just needs another set of eyes, but since I don’t know anything about Kakika or any of his stories, I thought someone who’s writing their own paper on the guy would know something and would definitely be able to help.”
This was his chance. If there were ever a divine being out there, they had smiled upon him. “Of course.”
“Yay!” Gurin-san bounced twice. “I’ll let her know to meet with you in the library after school. Is that okay?”
“Sure.”
With that the green-haired girl flounced back out into the hall and out of sight.
For the first time in a long while, Taro was looking forward to something.
~
Taro should have verified with Gurin-san on whom he was meeting at the library. When he had arrived at the library, he had been flagged down not by Aishi Ayano, but Mistrurugi Rise.
Mitsurugi gave him an unimpressed look from over the lenses of her glasses. “Disappointed that it was me and not Ayano you were meeting?”
“I--”
Misturugi held up a hand, silencing him. “Just so you know: had I any say in the matter, I wouldn’t be writing a paper on the nutjob. But I lost a bet to Ayano, so now I have to. Trust me when I say that she would have loved to write this paper. She’s a big fan of Kafka, just like yourself and the two of you would have gotten along swimmingly on that topic were it not for the fact that she’s just as much of a loner as you when it really comes down to it.
“To be clear: I don’t need help on this paper. I know my flaws in writing and I’ll deal with them on my own. But I couldn’t let such a wonderful opportunity pass me by when I had the chance.”
He blinked, confused. “Opportunity?”
Misturugi steepled her hands in front of her, her glasses casting off a glare from the overhead lights. “I can get you and Ayano alone for however long you please. All I require is a small favor from you.”
Taro nodded his consent, already picturing Ayano’s dark and vacant eyes finally focused on his person.
Vaguely he wondered if Mitsurugi’s request would remain within the bounds of the ordinary as much as her slow smile stretched impossibly wide upon her face.