Driftwood

Just Another Day...Is It?

  "Welcome to Koizumi High School! A healthy social environment catered to every teenager's growth.

Named after and founded by Mitsuo Koizumi, one of the brightest men of his time, Koizumi High specialises in the social developement for teens of all walks of life. We provide many crucial tools for students, parents, and teachers alike to connect and expand each other's social circles, and as such, grow in their own maturity.

Koizumi High prides itself with the quality of our handpicked teachers. Not anyone can walk in and educate our students, only those who excel in their chosen subject can hope to teach in our classrooms, however, knowledge is not the only factor. For our student's loving care and growth kindness needs to be a quality present in our teachers, the last thing adolescents need in arguably the toughest period of their developement is a loud mouthed, overwhelmingly strict brute shouting down their necks.

At Koizumi High, your children receive only the highest in educational standards, as we realise their importance for the future of your family, and possibly even the future of Japan!

Koizumi High School: Building the leaders of tomorrow." ~ Koizumi High School website, home page.

12:28am, Monday, Koizumi High School.

This part of the school schedule was...disappointing at best. It comes, a year 11 class somewhere collectively *sighs*, and they deal with the subject in question; Literacy. The teacher selection just stirs the pot of displeasure, out of all of them Mr. Fujimoto garners the most infamy. Despite the disallowance of straightening up students with a cane, his voice was and still is a powerful substitute.

Knowing they'll be bearing with him for a whole period the class kept all their stationary in check, making sure nothing was too spread out over the freshly lacquered wooden desks. The afternoon sun squeezed an orangey yellow glow from the desks, tingling the right hands of students in the middle section of desks where the heat was concentrated from the windows. As warm as it was a subtle, depressing vibe whispering "The day's not done yet" held every student present in mental limbo. 

"...Now we'll all open to page 204 of our literacy textbooks" Said Mr. Fujimoto, seated at his book flooded desk, his arms and legs crossed as he scanned the room left to right for slackers. The dread of Mr. Fuimoto was prevalent inside senior student Akira Kimura, a typically bright and "out there" kid, whose qualities are inverted under literacy classes' wing.

For Akira, life is a big CBF. Every day was the same school-wise, social-wise, and especially fashion-wise. Besides the weathered uniform his black, mid length hair was rarely combed and always retained a little bulge near the crest of his head or a spike poking out the side. Rarely did he shave the patchy moustache tacked on his upper lip, yet his 13 year old self held pride in the miniscule quantity of facial hair, and wanted to keep it. 

At the second row to the front he slumped over his desk, head buried inside crossed arms, seemingly out for the count, but focused and ready for a-

"Mr. Kimura!" 

...or not...

A thud from a solid fist against a wood desk shook the room from the front onwards. Akira flung his head upright and fixed his saggy eyes on a now standing Mr. Fujimoto, whose closed fists and tightening face of rage told everyone he wasn't taking any of their sh*t.