Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ Freshman Pink ❯ Freshman Pink ( One-Shot )

Freshman Pink

by Nix Winter

www.onepinkrose.com

Notes: I don't know much about Japanese High Schools. I know American ones, so alas, for this story, Shu's gonna be in Japan, going to a high school probably nothing like what they have there.

Disclaimers: I do not own Gravitation or Shuichi. This was written for fun.

Warnings: Lots of telling not showing, it's kinda a new style for me, just mostly experimental, just something I wrote at work after dreaming it up while walking home the day before…so like, hope you enjoy it, let me know if you do, please

Shindo Shuichi's first week in high school wouldn't make a good after school special. He was a small kid, with ordinary brown hair, but oddly pale eyes, albino eyes, not at all appropriate for a Japanese. The first day he showed up with a battered gray backpack, obviously left over from middle school and a Nittle Grasper tee-shirt that had been worn too many times. On the front of that Sakuma Ryuichi was singing on stage, body twisted into subtly into a suggestive pose. He was late to his first class, and stood there in the back, paper in hand, staring at a the students in an honors language composition class. The teacher had stared back, looked at her roll and asked him just what class he was looking for. He looked at his paper, read the name of it off, the professor's name, gave her his name, chewed on the inside of his cheek.

A girl near the back of the class, a polished western look right off the covers of an imported magazine lifted her nose and told him that this class might not hold much interest for a freshman. Shuichi had sneered back, his nose wrinkling, but before he could respond better, the teacher waved him in, assigned him a seat in the back, and that was the last word he had in class for the rest of the hour. The teacher hadn't run off copies of the class syllabus for him. He'd been a late addition. He didn't even get a book.

Physical education hadn't gone any better, even if he hadn't been late. So what if he didn't look like a good soccer player?

The class after that had been intro to biology, at least on his schedule. When he arrived, he was told to go to the office, and then sent to Biology 1. He'd passed his classed well the year before, but not that well, he thought. It had to be a mistake, or his mother registered him late, or there was some other Shindo Shuichi. Everyone seemed to be expecting someone else. Someone taller, or smarter or more something. It was on his way to political history, counting the minutes until lunch, that he walked right into Yatsume Niriu. That was the name of the girl in the language composition class who didn't think he'd like the class. She brushed off her jacket as if she'd just been splashed with toxic waste, and then her boy friend closed his locker and looked around her to see what had upset her.

Shuichi smiled up at him, grinned brightly. It was some aweful self-protective death behavior that only freshman can really do properly. "What is your problem," the man asked.

Shuichi didn't think it would be possible to grow as much as this guy in the four years of school he had left. This brought a half smile, a sort of twitch to the side of his mouth. "Looking for my class?"

"Is there something wrong with your eyes? Are you blind?" The girl asked.

Shuichi colored, flamed up his cheeks. The school that Hiro and he had gone to since they were little was smaller, closer to home, and everyone knew his eyes, knew him. "There's nothing wrong with my eyes. Is there something wrong with you? Or does your body just not like digest food. You're awfully skinny."

"Hey!" She sneered at him like he was a bug, and her boy friend's fist suddenly assisted Shuichi's face into the wall of lockers.

"Watch your mouth," he hissed, stepping closer, both blocking Shuichi's escape and blocking Shuichi from the passing foot traffic. The next punch hit Shuichi in the arm and he thought his eyes were going to rattle." I don't care wehre you came from. You're here now and this is our school. You're just a slimy little kid trying to pretend you're all grown up. Apologize to Niriu."

"Her first! I'm almost a guest if this is your school! She was blocking the path!" Shuichi punched back, the guy's zipper scratching his knuckles and only making him feel smaller than he had been.

It was the girl that hit him this time, smacked him right across the face, and he made it to his next class ten minutes late, with paper towel tucked against the end of his nose. Furious, miserable, he'd taken his assigned seat in the back, and thought he could just fade into the sound of the teacher's explanations of class.

"Shindo-san," the teacher said.

He was quite surprised to find the man standing by his desk, eyes narrowed. "Is this how they dressed in your previous school?"

A pen was pointing at the red spots, like connect the dots for high school on the front of his favorite Ryuichi shirt. "No," he said, nose full of paper. "I ran into a locker."

The utter silence in the room only made him know that his classmates found that extremely funny. "I see. You must have a problem with your eyes? Can't see where you're going?"

"No," Shuichi said, thinking about the teachers he'd liked in all his time in school and trying to find something of them in this skinny mocking political science teacher. "I got a nose bleed."

"It's too high here for him," teased one of the older boys. The teacher snorted, but didn't quite laugh.

"Yes, well, we get so many new faces from the country side at the first of school. I'm sure you'll learn you way around, your place. You did get the list of required reading with your welcome packet in the mail?"

"Uh," Shuichi said, vaguely remember Hiro say something about a welcome packet, but he'd been too excited to be going to this school, too excited about the performing arts classes and so now he scratched his head and reached for his backpack. "Maybe."

"As you're so prepared for class today," the teacher said, turning his back to him, "Why don't you go down to the office, see if the nurse can stop your nose from bleeding. Maybe test you for glasses. You'll need to see clearly now that you're in a big school."

Shuichi's nose and upper lip twitched. The freshmen girl sitting in the next isle over looked down right pale, and pulled away from his a little. Shuichi gave her a little smile, shoved a bit of paper back up his nose, then stood, slinging his back pack over one shoulder. "Yeah, I'm sure not prepared. If I'd know we were going to have a demonstration of class prejudice and totalitarian Marxist dictatorship, I sure would have worn the little star that probably came in my Welcome package!"

This time snickers did ripple through the class. The teacher's shoulders scrunched up and he snarled. "Get out of my class!"

Once out side, Shuichi found a bathroom and leaned up against the wall, head back and threw away the bloody papers. High School sucked. Sucked solo bad. Yeah. It couldn't get any worse.

Then one of the stalls opened, and Shuichi had a sinking feeling. Boys did not wear high heels. He closed his eyes, wished himself small.

"This is the Girl's bathroom, baka," said a distinctly too high-pitched voice to be male. "And Ricky's going to kick your ass after school. I can't wait."

Shuichi sighed and sank down to the floor. He hoped Hiro were having a better day. He had to be.

He never made it to the nurse, but his nose did stop bleeding. Hiro found him in the courtyard and shared his lunch, which was good, because Shuichi's lunch money had gone missing. Hiro was a good friend and even bought Shuichi a soda, and didn't ask about his nose, his shirt, or his day.

After lunch, things got better, a bit. He found paperback book though, lost in the grass, but it was a romance book, by some guy named Yuki Eiri. The cover was ripped off, but it gave him an idea. People judged books by covers, people by appearances. So while he didn't read romance, he shoved the half soggy book into his backpack. In fifth period he borrowed enough money from Hiro to enact his plan, but refused to explain it. By the last period, he'd forgotten all about Ricky and threats of getting his ass kicked.

Hiro's mom picked him up and took him to pick out his musical instrument for band this year. She'd promised him a new guitar too, so Hiro was in a good mood when they'd parted.

Shuichi planned to go to the mall, then home on the subway, maybe try to convince his mom he was too sick to go back to school, for say the rest of the year. Ricky found him first.

Ricky and three of his friends. It was good for the older boy that he'd brought friends, because Shuichi didn't want to go to the grassy area in the middle of the track. He didn't want to fight anyone.

Half the soccer team and more freshmen than he could count showed up though, all gathering around as if it were some kind of rally. Someone got his backpack and he was shoved into a ring of kids. Ricky was actually taping his knuckles when he was let into the ring as well.

"Freshmen! Behold, the fine tradition of our school! You are freshmen! And no matter what you have been told, you're dirt! The rest of us have been here and supported this school. So if you think you are going to coast through this school, bring any dishonor to it, or lower the standards in anyway, I want you to watch what happens to this scab first. This degenerate, mutated little nothing actually touched the president of the senior class today, and then refused to apologize. So he's your lucky day. He's going to be this year's example. For the whole year. He is a scab, a nothing."

Shuichi blinked, standing there with his toes pointing in, his pants soaking up the water in the grass. He was not a nothing. This he knew for a certainty. Small, with mousy brown hair and weird eyes, just a fifteen-year-old freshman, he nodded and moved into a fighting stance, one foot back, fists up.

One of the freshmen girls cheered and Shuichi smiled. Ricky smiled too. "I hear you might be a fag, Shindo. Sitting in the girls bathroom crying cuz you had a bad day."

"Hell if you know what I was doing tin the girl's bathroom," Shuichi said, implying that it might be more interesting than just a freshman's tears.

Another cheer went up in the ring holding them in and Shuichi got the idea real clear, this was everyone against the freshmen, the new kids.

Ricky threw the first punch and caught Shuichi just above his right eye, knocking him back and sending fresh blood down his face. The older class man stood back, holding both thumbs up, expecting that to be the end of the battle, so easy with a bleeding Shuichi on his knees in the grass. It wasn't the end though.

Holding his one eye closed, Shuichi was thinking, 'I'm Sakuma Ryuichi, Ryuichi!" Fists doubled, he launched up from the field and ran his head into Ricky's unprotected gut. It wasn't any kind of strike he'd learned in judo class, but he really didn't care. Once he had the older boy moving backwards, he straightened and kicked, once good to the gut, then an attempt at his surprised face. This one got caught and his leg twisted. He howled, loudly, wildly like some scared kitten and the crowd of kids all took a step back.

Already the crowd was dispersing, slipping away, not in the lesson well learned mood that the older class kids had wanted though. Those that stayed still saw growling Shuichi come up off the ground, mud and blood all over him now and launch himself at Ricky's face. Ricky went over backwards and the smaller Shuichi went over with him, slapping him of all things, palm, back hand, palm, just like some psycho who couldn't stop stabbing his victim. Ricky started to snarl and spit, yipping that someone should help him. Someone yelled, "Punch him!"

And Shuichi thought that sounded like a good idea, even if the advice had been meant for Ricky, so he doubled up his fist and laid it into the older kid's face for all he was worth. Ricky's nose gushed and laughter went through the group, until someone grabbed Shuichi at the back of the neck and jerked him upwards, right off his feet.

Dangling at the end of the Principle's arm, Shuichi had no idea how big a win he'd had. Both of them ended up in the office. Ricky was of age, and the principle didn't want to call the police, so he was told to mend his ways and keep a low profile. Shuichi though was new in the school and the principle wanted to drive home that this was not acceptable. He got suspended for three days and two weeks of detention after that. He didn't get out of the office until after five o'clock and he thought it probably wouldn't help his future at the school to tell that his leg hurt and his face hurt, that he thought his nose was broken. He sat in the corner of the office, in a chair that had probably been there for generations, head against the wall, whining in a low-pitched siren that signaled the end of the world. His family couldn't be reached and the principle was starting to look at him funny and had called him a delinquent.

When Hiro showed up, he'd never been so glad to see him in all his life! Shuichi felt completely chibi, one knee drawn to his chest, arms around it, as Hiro explained that Shuichi's mother had had car trouble, that she was still stranded and that his father was away on business, but that Hiro's mother was often responsible for Shuichi, and that she had sent him to collect the boy. Hiro looked so much older and grown up when he stood up straight and smiled quietly. On top of that, he had a very nice note from his mother.

They walked side by side to the bus that would take them to the subway. Shuichi limped, sniffled. Hiro struggled to find something useful to say. "I got a new guitar. It's real nice."

"I want to dye my hair pink." Shuichi blurted out.

"Pink?" Hiro said, his stomach turning into a helium balloon all of a sudden. Suddenly high school with Shuichi was looking like a death gauntlet, but they'd been friends all of Hiro's life. He couldn't imagine it any other way. "Pink? Did you just have this day at school with me?"

"I think my nose is broken too, but I want to go by the mall."

"You're suspended for three days. I think we ought to go straight home." Hiro said, as they stopped at the bus stop. "Let me look at your nose, baka."

Shuichi winced as Hiro touched it and then pronounced. "Not broken, but I think your career as a rock star is gone. It's going to be swelled up like that for a long time."

"Rock star," Shuichi considered, sitting down on the bench, rocking the toes of his scuffed shoes over the sidewalk. "Like Sakuma Ryuichi! That would be way cool, you know? You with your guitar and I could sing!"

He got back, pretended he had a microphone and mouthed the words to something Ryuichi had sang. Hiro rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything. He liked Shuichi happy, smiling. By the time they got to the mall, Shuichi was talking about little else. Rock stars! "Come on, Hiro! You know you want to! You love your music!"

Hiro sighed as he watched his best friend use his borrowed money to buy pink hair dye and bleach. "Okay, maybe it wouldn't be bad. We could do whatever we wanted and make music that would make people happy. What would we call our band? Better pick something that will hold off the bad luck we were having today, uh?"

The woman at the counter gave Shuichi a couple pair of extra gloves and reminded him to do the strand test, to read the directions. He grinned, the first grin Hiro had seen all day. "Na, Hiro, we'll call it Bad Luck! We'll just eat all the luck that's not our way as we go and be bad luck to anything that gets in our way! We're gonna be Bad Luck!"

"Okay, okay!" Hiro laid an arm around Shuichi's shoulders and they wandered out past the food court, collecting some egg rolls and a large pop to share. "We'll be Bad Luck and girls will flock to us!"

"Yeah!" Shuichi said, looking down the road for the bus, and wondering what it would be like to have people think he was attractive, to like maybe get a girl friend or, or something.

Later that night ...

It was nearly three in the morning when Shuichi got out of bed and took over his sister's bathroom. The bleach got mixed in the plastic soda cup they'd gotten at the mall, and he combed it in with her comb. His scalp was protesting at the front long before he got to the back and one eye was too swollen to really see what he was doing. How he was going to leave that on for twenty minutes, he wasn't at all sure.

His pacing must have woke his sister, who came in wrinkling her nose. "What are you doing? Oh Shuichi-kun! Your eye!"

"Shhhhh," he said, laying one finger over his lips. "It's a secret! Hiro and I are gonna make a band and I wanna be special."

She wrapped her arms around him, he shifted his weight from his bruised knee and she hugged him like he was a big stuffed bunny. "Ane! You are special and I wouldn't tell! I love you!"

He hugged her back and smiled, only then noticing in the mirror that his brown hair had turned blond like golden near white. As he leaned closer to the mirror, poking at it a little, his sister found the dye. "Pink? Why pink?"

"Dunno, just like it. How's it look in the back?" He asked, as he itched his head with her comb. "It's gotta get real white though."

"Uh, okay. I think it looks pretty white. Shuichi-kun, your hair isn't brown anymore."

"Nope," he agreed, looking around to try to figure out how to rinse this white fire out now. He ended up with his head over the tub, as his sister sprayed it out.

"Wow! It's so white! The directions say we gotta let it dry before we put in the color. And we need some baby oil to put on ears and neck. We don't have any baby oil."

"Have to live without it," he pronounced.

"Okay," she said, not sure at all about this. They didn't wait till it was dry either.

When it did dry, it was pink, bright pink, and shiny, shimmery. Shuichi wanted to do his eyebrows, but his sister said the directions said not to, and his eye was so messed up anyway, and in the end she threatened to scream. He didn't do his eyebrows. And the next morning, his mother got the load of surprise.

His sister made a trumpet sound, and Shuichi stepped into the kitchen, threw both arms over his head and declared, "And now! It's Bad Luck! The best band in Japan! Shindo Shuichi and Hiro!"

His mother touched one finger to her temple. Her baby was fifteen now. Fifteen didn't seem so much. She sipped her coffee, one long sip and made herself look at the huge purple eye, the swelling over it, which probably should have had a stitch or two, but it was too late now. And the hair, oh my god the hair. She'd seen hair that color once on a stuffed unicorn. "It's pink," she pronounced.

"Yeah! Do you like it?" he asked with all the unfair vulnerability of a teenage boy who wasn't sure he was ready to be a teenager.

She sipped her coffee again, nodded slowly. "It is very daring, very bright. Very unique. You'll need that fire for your band. Maybe we can look into some voice lessons while you're off school the next few days. You will, of course, be taking care of the kitchen while you have so much free time."

He sighed, relieved, the holes in his self-esteem closing over under her gentle acceptance. When he took a step towards the table and she saw the limp, she added, "And we'll need to be seeing the doctor as well. Maybe some more martial arts lessons might be in order. It's a big school, I hear."

"Oh, its not that big," he said, and with that, the world got smaller for him, safer again. This school hadn't seen nothing like him, and they'd better just wait and see, cuz Bad Luck was going to rock the world! The whole world!