I awake late in the evening, or rather, early in the morning. My head aches slightly, and I don’t remember climbing into…a mattress on the floor. I give it a nasty look before looking at the digital clock Sarah must’ve bought for me and noticed the time that read “5:26” in bright red lights. If remembering correctly, my local high school starts at seven o’clock, and it is about a ten minute walk from Sarah’s home. Instead of going back to sleep, I got up and fumbled around the home.
Sarah left a note on the fridge saying that she left about an hour ago, so she could beat the in-city traffic of Sapporo. I’m slightly surprised that she needs to go so early, but I decide not to bother her about it later. I open her fridge to find that she must be some sort of malnourished, as all that seemed to be in there were expired milk, beer, and a few packages of deli meat. Some that were past the expiration date and others that were drawing close. A note is stuck inside saying, “Don’t Drink the Milk” in her handwriting.
I shrug, deciding to shower instead and go without breakfast.
Recently, some Hokkaido schools decided to allow girls to wear pants during the winter, as bare legs are not efficient in cold weather. Thankfully, this small local one agreed that it was probably better to do that than watch them embarrass themselves by wearing gym shorts under their skirts. I didn’t go to a private school in the states, so wearing a uniform feels kind of embarrassing. And the weight of the winter uniform is surprising.
I let out a sigh, grabbing my oh-so American duct tape wallet (as my designer one seems to be MIA) and shoving it in my pocket, I began to leave. One foot out the door and I realized that I had to put my shoes on. I feel silly, as I would always put my shoes on in the morning. Slumping down onto the floor, I manage to bury my feet into standard brown loafers and tumble out the door with a beaten up second hand book bag in hand.
After the first few screw ups, things actually turn out the way I want them to. I see the school coming up and there’s plenty of time before the bell rings. For once in my whole life, I’m on time and on task and that feels great. The air is cool, crisp, and I don’t pay much attention to the surroundings. As I draw closer to the school, I notice more people in my similar uniform. Even a girl I swore was a boy at first with one of those bandana cloths that flap in the wind. Cool, I thought that was just a joke Americans made up.
Something small bumps against my back and I jerk in response, simply because you don’t just have a wonderful walk and have something small and unintimidating bump into the back of you. I turn, bleak expression on, and see a…remarkably cute girl standing there rubbing her nose. I suppose my back is hard, or something. I say, in my very poor Japanese, that I’m sorry and she gives me a similarly bleak expression.
But—damn, it’s cute. I’m sure mine looked like a gorilla in comparison.
“I’m the one that bumped into you,” She says in a blindingly stereotypical high voice which I honestly didn’t think existed, “there’s no need to apologize…” she pauses looking me over, “…senpai.”
[ Shiori standing pleased]
Whoa~! I thought the silly red tie with my navy outfit was just for show. Apparently, that meant seniority, as I noticed the girl had a yellow tie on instead of a red one. Still, I can’t help but blush, as “senpai” is probably one of the neatest things I’ve ever been called. When I open my mouth to reply, I found my already poor Japanese to be diminishing quickly as I forget how to say what I wanted to say.
She giggles, “I figured you weren’t fluent, senpai. After all, you’re a foreigner.”
I nod sheepishly and she takes my hand in a way where I took great notice to how much smaller hers were.
“Ms. Winchester is the only foreigner I know, so, it’s good to meet someone around my age.” She beams, “I’m Shiori Toshifumi.”