Katawa Shoujo - Akira Satou Route

Act 2-7 Probability

Feet tap against the ground in anticipation as the clock ticks down the seconds left in class. Eyes dart back and forth between the timepiece on the wall and the teacher lecturing at the front of the room, words rushing faster and faster as he tries to finish his lesson before the hoard of students speed out.

It's only a half-day of class, and yet everyone is already itching to get out. Maybe it's because we only have a half-day, because there's that much more free time to do whatever they want once that ringing dismisses them.

Not that I mind either way, considering the fact that I've got nothing to do.

Well, no, that's not totally true - I've got that stupid package I've got to get for Kenji, but I'm not in any particular rush to catch a bus into the city. It doesn't seem to be particularly important to him either, since he hasn't so much as mentioned it since we last spoke.

"Fifty-nine... Fifty-eight... Fifty-seven..."

The sound of a hissing countdown begins to layer underneath the frantic attempt to get all of the week's notes out as Mutou's hands become a blur, giving us his best butterfly impression as he chalks up equations and diagrams with one hand and wipes the eraser up and down with the other. I can't help but wonder how far behind we really are when the three seconds it takes to clear the board are so valuable that he has to write and erase at the same time.

"Ten... Nine... Eight..."

The whispers rise in intensity as more and more people join in. Mutou manages to finish his lesson right at the 'five' mark, slamming the stick of chalk against the board and sending white splinters dropping to the ground.

"Three... Two... One..."

At last the bell rings out, sending books and notebooks flying from the surfaces of desks and through the door as students rush out, ready for their day off.

Mutou sulks as he watches the hoard of students crowding out the door, a sigh escaping his throat. His sadness doesn't appear to be overwhelming, however, as he quickly joins the mess of students after clearing the chalkboard and stuffing his papers into a suitcase.

"Ahhhh, that was fun~." a voice beside me comments, her arms raised to the ceiling in a stretch.

The pair of girls next to me sign back and forth about something that may as well be in a different language to me. Actually, wouldn't Japanese sign language count as a different language as vocalized Japanese? Either way, I don't understand what they're saying.

It also means that it may as well have nothing to do with me; so I'm free to pack up my things and head for the door, ready for-

"Hicchan~! Why are you always in such a hurry?"

-the rest of my day.

"Well, it's because I've got things to do." I reply, well aware of the fact that I'm lying through my teeth.

"You've always got things to do~! Shicchan and I think you need a break."

I don't think I could get a break much better than the one I've been getting; as in, laying on the bed in boredom or reading in the library. Regardless, their idea of a break no doubt revolves around manual labor and food.

"So you can ring me into doing busywork for the student council?"

"That's not what we were insinuating at all~! You always look so depressed, and we're really worried."

Worried? About me? I'm flattered. I understand that it's the student council's duty to look out for their 'subjects,' but honestly; every time I get involved with these girls, it ends with me running around for at least an hour lifting things. I like that they buy the food or snacks whenever I help out; but I don't think the headache and sore muscles are worth it.