𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐒 *ੈ✩‧₊˚ⁿⁱⁿᵉ

I. 𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐜𝐞

THE SUN must have had some sort of vendetta against you that day. The blistering heat was unbearable for everyone in the city, and if a power grid were to go out, you were sure that half the residents of Tokyo would simply die. Of course, your migraines had conveniently decided to flare up again, and your body decided that you were fated to stand out by the school pool in the sickening haze of sweat and smoke that emanated from the traffic of the nearby parkway.

Your ears were no longer privy to your mumbled curses as cars honked from behind the dividing wall that surrounded your school, faint yelling coming from enraged businessmen who were bound to be late to their job as a result of the congestion. That same wall and its overhang was the only thing that provided any shade for you as you let a cigarette burn away between your raw lips. The cement was glued to the bottom of your thighs and you had eventually resigned to simply allowing your legs to remain stuck out.

You had long unbuttoned your blouse down as far as you could without exposing your bra, silently contemplating how much trouble you'd get in if you skipped class to do a few laps in the pool. You were bound to be late to class either way, with how long it was taking for your migraine to subside. The ashy end of your cigarette had started to bend, so you quickly pulled out a portable ashtray you had stolen from your father, flicking the butt into the small pouch.

Just as the ashes fell, a loud bang came from beside you, making you fumble the pouch in your hand. You had put out the cigarette with the palm of your hand when you met the gaze of four girls you had vaguely remembered from class. A sigh left your lips and you slowly unfurled your fist, wincing at the burn you gave yourself. After relighting your cigarette, you took a long drag, hollowing your cheeks and letting it sit between your lips a tad longer than you should have while the girls made their way to the edge of the pool.

"It's fine. Just try jumping."

A breeze caught the coolness of the pool's water, sending a refreshing wash of air over your body. The smoke from your cigarette billowed with the current, going still once more as the sun's heat found itself back around you. You watched as a girl with short black hair took her place on the diving blocks, feet right on the edge. What was her name? Mijiima? Nishima? You let the smoke out from your lips— Mishima, Mishima Lisa. You would run into her from time to time in the bathroom, listening as she would breathe heavily before flushing what you assumed was her lunch.

"You can totally make it!" one of the girls yelled, voice laced heavily with sarcasm. Seriously, on such a hot day like this, you would think people wouldn't be such assholes. Then again, you were probably just as much of an asshole as they were for not doing anything about it. "Dive, dive!" God, this was miserable, even for you. Mishima looked like she was on the verge of passing out. "Fly high, Lisa!" Their piercing laughter made you take another long drag off your cigarette, hoping the sound of the cicadas would drown it all out.

Maybe you should do something about this— but let's be fair, you've never really been that great of a person. It shows in your amount of friends, a bold two, both of which were anything but better than you in terms of greatness. You'd think that, as the daughter of the popular governor-elect, you'd have some notoriety, but your father had enrolled you under a different surname. Smart move on his part, considering how you ended up. You, Komiya (y/n), were nothing compared to the governor-elect's alleged daughter.

"Hey, whatcha doin'?"

You ripped the cigarette from your lips in alarm, looking up at some guy who hung one arm over the cement wall. Where the hell had this guy come from? You couldn't help but notice the familiar uniform he wore, however, as much as you tried, you couldn't seem to recognize his face. Well, not that you ever really paid attention to the people around you anyways. His gaze trailed down to you and he tilted his head with a smile that sent chills down your arms. "Oh, I know! This is called "bullying"!"

A frown made its way onto your face and you almost yelled at him for assuming you were a part of the bullying scheme—whoever this guy was, he really needed to learn how to make better first impressions. You'd call him an asshole if it weren't for the fact that he was doing better than you in actually calling the girls out for their bullshit this early in the morning. "She said she wanted to swim," called some girl with long brown hair, clearly bluffing to get him to go away. Another girl with a ponytail added onto the obvious lie, "it's like having a resort at school! Living the life of the rich and famous!"

Someone was going to have to let that girl know that not all rich people lived lavishly— that "rich" person was you. Though you supposed you were probably the only exception. One other girl decided to push Mishima lightly and leave her fumbling to stay dry. "Really? Wearing clothes into the pool?" he looked down at you for confirmation, you just let out a puff of smoke in his direction. His nose crinkled at the bridge and he looked far more nauseated than most; the poor guy probably had sensitive lungs or something. The guy decided then that he would then turn to Mishima, searching for an answer within her somber figure.

"Yeah...That's right...Because I'm hot."

Now, Mishima was far too bullied to manage to give off threatening looks but somehow she had managed to get her point across with those brown eyes of hers. You pushed off the wall, grabbing your bag— you didn't need to stick around any longer. "Me too!" Before you could distance yourself from the pool, the guy had clamored onto the plexiglass awning, leaping off of it and into the pool, fully clothed. His bag, once in his arms, had soared through the air, and by the time you had realized it was heading for your face, it was already too late. Your head had recoiled back with the collision, making you stumble back against the wall.

"What the fuck?!"

You felt the trickle of blood slide down the back of your throat and you let out a few more curses, tilting your head back to avoid bleeding onto your blouse. You pinched your nose and fought any tears that pricked at your eyes, hoping that by some miracle your nose wasn't broken (you weren't by any means dramatic, but that bag was unreliable). "The hell is your problem, man?!" you shrieked as the other girls stepped back from the pool, watching as he resurfaced with a bright grin. The flow of blood was far too strong for you to tilt your head back down, leaving you essentially blind to whatever was in front of you. Looks like you'd have to rely on your hearing if you wanted to find a way to reach the guy and beat him up.

Cicadas, honking, laughter, yelling, Twelve: someone was talking about the number twelve. You spun around just enough for your tilted back head to catch a glance of a guy watching you all from a nearby pedestrian bridge. Your breath caught in your throat as he met your gaze, the breeze rustling his dark hair as his fist tightened around the straps of his bag. It felt as though your entire being had been set ablaze as he walked off, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. And for just a moment, the world had gone quiet...

...ALL SO YOU COULD MEET HIS ICY EYES.

edited by plutocracies !!