MUCH thanks to draco38 and MarshalZhukov for some beta-reading, they're both lovely people and you should read their stuff at once!

Running From the DEAD

By JSF16

Chapter One

When it happened when it did, Denya was quite sure he could not have been in a worse possible location. If anyone had told him that Fujimi Academy was going to be his living tomb, he probably would have said it wasn't that bad. Not that he had any love for the school; actually he had his fair share of resentment towards it.

It was a very nice-looking place to be sure, definitely a hell of a lot better than his old school in Verkhoyansk, the dorm he was staying in was more luxurious than his living room at home. But even after only a week in the school, the Russian exchange student soon found out it was plagued by the problems that seemed to permeate every school in existence. Namely, it had the same damn hierarchy.

Observing from a distance, Denya confirmed his fears over a few weeks. As always, the majority of the kids stripped off any part of their personality that stood out and hammered themselves into shape to fit the status quo that was impressed on anyone who dared being popular, or having a real social life in the academy.

So Denya decided that the best thing to do would to just cruise under the radar. He was only there for a year, and a year wasn't too long. Do well, stay quiet, spoke when spoken too, stay out of other's business and he'd be back home before he knew it. For a week he did well, but ultimately he found out that it was impossible to exist in a place like Japan without some sort of human contact. Besides that, his Japanese was struggling and all the teachers were wrapped up in other matters.

So he searched for someone to help him, preferably someone that wouldn't draw attention to himself. After looking for a week, he met Takashi Komuro, and immediately decided it was time to break his silent barrier.

He wasn't a complete stranger to Takashi, Takashi had actually been one of the first to greet him informally outside of class. He seemed friendly and outgoing, and Denya usually gave him a brief 'hello' every morning before class. However asides from that, and the occasional discussion over lunch, he kept interaction to a minimum. Frankly, he had been a little worried if Takashi would even help him at all.

But Takashi possessed natural human decency -a somewhat rare trait in the Academy- and agreed to help him, not only with language, but with Japanese culture in general. And despite Denya's attempts at caution, he soon found friendship inevitable.

Well, Denya didn't consider it to be a real friendship, more of a friendly acquaintanceship. But regardless of what he thought of it, he found himself being pulled further and further into the realm of social interaction. He was soon chatting with Takashi more and more over lunch or in the hall, and in a much more relaxed manner too. And of course then he began to make contact with some of Takashi's friends.

Denya already knew Saya Takagi of course. Everyone knew of her, she was the daughter of one of the city's richest and most powerful men after all. She was in two of Denya's classes, and she was brilliant, daring, and beyond critical. And for that reason Denya respected her, even enjoyed her.

He rarely said anything to her, but he enjoyed watching her coldly shoot down all the over-optimistic ideas of their classmates. She wasn't just a technical genius; she was practical to the extreme. During an assignment when they'd all been tasked with making up a plan of how their class would survive crashing on a deserted island, she'd stood out remarkably. While everyone else cheerfully brought up ideas of shelter and signals for rescuers, she'd addressed issues such as using heated metal from the wreck to cauterize open wounds, and sawing off infected gangrenous body parts with bits of boiled coral. She was dumping water on their parade and she knew it, Denya couldn't help but admire that.

Of course she was still bossy, rude, arrogant, and nearly impossible to talk to for five minutes without developing and urge to stuff her into the nearest locker. Even Takashi, who'd known her since kindergarten and had the highest tolerance for her, seemed to be unable to stand her presence for very long.

Denya had tried to keep his social life to a minimum though. When he'd first arrived in Japan, he was mainly concerned with learning the language to a decent extent and doing well in his studies. Get in, complete the mission, and get out. Plain and simple, just how the farmboy enjoyed it.

However no man is an island, and Denya's heritage as a farmboy began to wear him down. Since he had lived on a farm his entire life, he had always been doing something; papa had made sure to that. He was almost always doing something or moving on to do something else. Idle hands are the devils playthings after all, and no son of Mikhail Kondrashin was going to sit on his can.

But now he found himself living in a Japanese dorm room, with nothing to do but pour over his studies. And no student, no matter how determined, could stay that engaged to schoolwork for that long. Denya quickly grew bored out of his skull and he began looking for outlets to relieve himself.

He'd tried anime and manga of course, but soon grew quite creeped out by the sheer weirdness of it all. He'd tried video games and movies too, but Denya was a man of action. Sitting around and jamming buttons for hours upon end was not a viable option for very long. So he turned to the school itself for entertainment.

Fujimi Academy was a very large and predacious school after all; it was only natural for it to have a wide array of sports to partake in. Denya naturally checked off the team-based sports right off the bat and began to look at the more individualistic events, particularly the combat training.

He blew off karate without a second thought. His first week there, one of the black-belts had tried to threaten some money off of him and ended up with a fractured rib and broken nose for his trouble. After that Denya decided there was nothing in hand-to-hand the karate sensei could teach him that papa hadn't.

He was quite surprised to find spear-fighting being taught, he'd never even heard of it as a sport until then. It was definitely unique, but Denya couldn't really wrap his head around it. The whole thing reeked of sheer impracticality, he couldn't think of a single reason he would ever need or even want to use a spear, unless it was for a competition, which was probably the only point of the class anyway.

Funny how it turned out though. He'd checked out the spear-fighting to stay out of social encounters, and yet that was exactly what walked smack-dab into him. On his way to go check out the kendo classes, he rounded a corner and collided right into one of the students, knocking her to the ground.

She landed on her back, dropping her gym bag and textbooks. Denya automatically knelt down to offer his hand in assistance, and then he saw her face.

A smooth rounded face topped with beautiful flowing chocolate-brown hair and illuminated by two piercing hazel eyes stared up at him. The blood rushed to his face and his entire body locked up on him. Denya didn't believe in 'love at first sight' bullshit, but he sure as hell believed in crushes at first sight, and that was exactly what he found himself struck by.

"Ow, damn it." She awkwardly brushed herself off before pulling herself to her feet, stooping down to collect her possessions. "Sorry about that." She said, looking up at him. This snapped Denya out of his freeze, as he began to stutter for the first time in his life.

"O-oh n-n-no, m-my ba-bad, so-sorry about that. Ar-are you okay?" He babbled while brushing himself off.

"I'm fine, thanks for asking, you good?" She asked.

"Ye-yeah, I'm perfectly fine. N-no problem. Uh, I-I'm in a hurry so, I've go-gotta run. Bye." Giving a faltering half-bow, he stumbled past her and down the hall towards the kendo club, mentally kicking himself the whole way. This was how he met Rei Myimato, the girlfriend of Takashi.

There is nothing to screw up a person trying to be discreet like an out-of-the-blue crush, Denya pulled completely out of the social circle for several days, trying to get himself back in line. His first crush was from a foreign country and was already the girlfriend of his own friend. Damn it.

So he kept his distance from her, politely acknowledging and answering her while keeping socialization to a minimum when he had to interact with her, which was rare thankfully as they only shared one class.

As he starved himself of friends, he began to get more and more bored. Yes he chatted with Takashi a fair deal at lunch, but it was completely skin-deep. He and Takashi shared few interests, and their conversations rarely strayed from the simple subjects that binded everyone; pop culture, the weather, basic politics, school life, and so on. Denya didn't bring up his past much because he doubted anyone would be terribly interested in it or the things he enjoyed talking about. All Takashi knew of Denya was that he was a sixteen year old Russian exchange student who'd grown up on a farm with only his father who was an ex-military man. He was polite, intelligent, and strong.

Actually it seemed like Takashi had first seemed almost a bit surprised by Denya's appearance. Soft-spoken and well-dressed, he had an almost gentlemanly appearance, although with a rough edge. Denya figured that, as a Russian, he was expected to be the burly vodka-guzzling bear of a man who yelled a lot and communicated in grunts. Of course that was absurd, vodka was damn near impossible to find available to him. Sake was fine, but it lacked the kick that Denya knew and loved.

As much as Denya tried to keep unnoticeable, fate has a funny way of forcing people into the situation they're trying to avoid. And so, a bit over a month after he'd joined, Denya met Kohta Hirano.

It wasn't exactly a proper greeting, although it was definitely most beneficial to building a friendship. Simply put, Denya had been walking past the washroom on his way to his locker when he'd heard the unmistakable grunts and thuds of an ass-kicking.

Peeking into the bathroom, he found three big tough-looking thugs brutally kicking a hunched-up form on the ground. It took Denya a few seconds to place a name to the pained face before him, but he recognized Kohta Hirano. He didn't know him very much, he was just a chubby history otaku with glasses who often had his face stuck in a book or a toilet bowl. He was quiet and easily intimidated by teacher and student alike. All-in-all he seemed like the usual poor otaku who refused to give up his passions to join the rest of the masses. And for that, Denya respected him. And for that, Denya decided to help him.

Stepping fully into the bathroom, Denya dropped his backpack and set his hands on his hips, leveling his gaze on the three bullies. "And just what the hell do you think you're doing?" He questioned. The beating came to a stop as three bodies slowly turned to face him, a cocky in-your-face attitude stamped across their features. The one in the center stepped up threateningly, a warning grin on his face.

"Excuse me? What are we doing? We're getting our money's worth out of this fatass. And you'll be next if you don't back the fuck off." He was obviously used to his presence intimidating anyone who stood up to him. Denya didn't move an itch, just gazed at him with cool blue eyes.

"Well I think you've had enough. You can now leave him alone and go, or I will kick your ass out your face." He cracked a small smile. "And trust me, I don't think anyone will notice the difference." The boy stepped back, arms open mockingly.

"Well well guys, looks live we've got ourselves a proper little Robin Hood here! Let's bust his little white ass open shall we?" With that, he darted at Denya, his left arm coming up in an under-handed feint while his right fist plowed straight toward the Russian's mouth.

Despite the limited space, Denya neatly sidestepped the attack, grabbed the boy's right arm and drove his own right fist into his nose with a crunch. And then before the stunned attacker could react, Denya grabbed the back of his neck and smashed into a stall door with a wham! Denya let go, and the boy collapsed like a sack of rocks, blood tricking from his nose.

Stepping forward, Denya fell into a fighting stance.

"After you." He motioned towards the other two bullies. They approached him simultaneous, but the confined space prevented them from flanking Denya, who considered his options. He attacked, lunging forward with sudden speed for the left boy, only to turn around and grab the incoming punch from the right boy. Wrapping his hand around the wrist, he tightened his grip and twisted it hard. There was a cracking sound and the right boy screamed in agony. Grabbing him roughly by the back of his neck, Denya shoved him forward into the left boy, blocking his punch with the body of his own comrade.

Not stopping once, Denya threw his victim into the wall, jolting his head against the ceramic tiling. Before the boy could even think of recovering, Denya sent and uppercut exploding upwards into the bottom of the boys jaw, snapping his head back. A second driving punch from his left fist collided with the boy's temple, knocking his skull into the hand dryer. He went limp and piled to the floor, leaving only one more opponent.

By now, the final boy had recovered and was now coming at Denya, but in a more professional fighting stance that looked like karate. His arms coiled back like a snake, indicating he was preparing to punch. But Denya saw his weight shifting to his rear leg and knew he was about to kick.

He kicked, and Denya caught the snapped-up leg in both hands, and then proceeded to drive his own leg right up into the boys exposed gonads. His jaw shot open and his eyes flared in agony as a small pathetic cry squeaked out of his throat. Not hesitating for a moment, Denya roughly grabbed the scruff of his neck and brought his head down hard on the counter once, twice. The boy went limp as a rag, and Denya dropped him like a used one. He slumped to the floor into a pile with his friends, blood spilling from a gash in his forehead.

Taking a moment to brush himself off, Denya stepped over their prone forms and bent down to help the still-quivering Kohta, who'd had his eyes clenched shut the entire time. "You can get up now, they're all gone." He said comfortingly. Kohta popped one eye open, surveyed the carnage, and pushed himself up, rubbing his sore body and moaning loudly. He looked up at the bullies, all in various stages of unconsciousness, then up at Denya. Then at the bodies again and again up at Denya. His eyes widened as he made the connection, and he looked at Denya in awe.

"D-did you take out all of them?" He asked shakily. Denya smiled and shrugged.

"Da, papa taught me a bit about to protect myself. I figured you needed it more than me though. I'm Denya by the way, Denya Mikhailovitch Kondrashin." He said as he reached down to help Kohta to his feet. Kohta pulled himself up and brushed himself off before reaching back down to scoop up his backpack. Standing to shake Denya's hand, he bowed his head humbly.

"Thank you for your assistance Kondrashin-san, I am in your debt." Denya rolled his eyes.

"Forget it, and call me Denya. You don't owe me anything." Kohta gave him a thankful look, which then turned puzzled.

"Wait a second, you're the exchange student right?" He said, giving Denya an odd look

"In the flesh."

"Why'd you help out some fat otaku like me then? That isn't exactly the best way to get a positive following around here." Kohta didn't seemed annoyed in the least. He was simply confused. Denya shrugged as he stuck his hands under the tap and switched on the hot water.

"I respect you." He said simply. This didn't satisfy Kohta however, who pressed further.

"Respect me? What the hell for?"

"For standing up to them." Denya jerked his head at the three bodies on the floor. He soaped up his hands nice and good and turned up the hot water.

"I don't mean to question your judgement Denya-san, but if you didn't notice, I was the one huddling on the floor. I don't think getting my ass royally kicked is the correct way to stand up to those guys." Kohta took his glasses off and rubbed them vigorously with his shirt. Satisfied, he stuck them back on and smiled pleasantly at the result.

Denya finished washing his hands and switched off the water. Grabbing a handful of paper towels, he dried off his hands. "You've got more stones than most of the guys I've seen here Hirano-san. Most of 'em strip off all their identity that doesn't fit into the mold that the 'cool guys' are expected to fill. Like those pricks." He jerked a thumb at the forms on the floor who were just starting to stir. Finishing, he chucked the used towels in the garbage and headed for the door, motioning for Kohta to follow.

"Er, where are you going?" Kohta asked. Denya turned around to face him with a mischievous look.

"I'm off to tell the nurse that some madman brutally assaulted several students in the washroom. You didn't happen to see the nut did you?" Kohta's eyes widened and a grin slid across his face as he shook his head.

"Sorry, I didn't see hide or hair of him. Here's hoping they find him before anyone else gets hurt." Denya only nodded earnestly.

"Da, here's hoping." Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he began heading down the hall to the nurses' office, but Kohta called out behind him.

"Hold up, you still haven't explained this to me. Why did you save my ass? You must have seen a dozen beatings like that, on all sorts of students. Why help me?" Denya turned around, backpack hanging off one shoulder.

"Listen Hirano-san, you didn't fold like them. You're yourself still, da? You kept true to yourself and you haven't yielded to the social pressure. Most kids here conform as soon as they can just to be part of the crowd. You're unique, and sure other people may hate it, but I think a good deal of 'em are jealous of you." Kohta laughed at this.

"Jealous? Of me?" Kohta shook his head in disbelief. "If you think they're jealous of lonely little old me then you're crazy."

"They're jealous because you beat them in that way. You didn't bend, didn't yield. They whored out to the system. And now all they can do is give you a good beating to try and relieve their jealousy. You've got guts Hirano-san, and like that. Besides, it felt good to give those ass-holes a good lesson in minding their manners." He chuckled lightly and rounded the corner to climb the stairs to the third floor. "I've gotta fly, but I'll probably see you later. Bye, and as always, have a nice day." He took off up the steps, but was stopped before he made it to the top.

"Hey Denya-san?" Denya turned his head to see Kohta at the bottom of the stairs.

"Da?"

"Call me Kohta." Then he was gone down the hall. Denya shouldered his backpack and made his way towards the class.

It was that night, once classes were out of the way, that Denya took a step back to analyze his situation. Despite his intentions, he was rapidly spiralling back into the social world that he'd been trying to stay away from. Of course now the question was: Is this really such a bad thing after all? All of Denya's optimism regarding his plan to stay low had gone out the window weeks ago when the grating reality of a year of perpetual boredom had sunk in. And now he'd just made a friend in Kohta Hirano, which was not the ideal way to keep under the radar.

But the fact remained that if he just ditched Kohta for the sake of his own comfort, he would be just as much of an asshole as the punks he'd dropped that afternoon. Collapsing back into his bed, Denya began fiddling with the little pocket knife he'd found on the street a week ago. It was only a little three inch blade folding out of the handle, but it was fine enough, and Denya carried it in his pocket with him and often played with it to keep his hands busy. Click, blade in. click, blade out. Click in, click out. Click in, click out.

He sighed deep and slapped himself across the face. What the hell was he thinking; of course he wasn't going to ditch Kohta, not after he'd pulled his bacon out of the fire and everything. He snapped the blade shut with a hissing escaped breath and flung himself off the bed to begin pacing around the dorm.

In this case, his social anonymity was a joke now. He was going to emerge from the shadows on the wrong side of the fence, and Denya didn't like to do things half-assed. If he was doing this, it would be all the way.

Click in, click out. Denya doubted Takashi would care, he was a rare decent sort, but he would doubtlessly be attracting plenty of less-appealing attention. If he wasn't with the crowd, he'd be against it, and the crowd was good at making you regret whatever the hell you did that they did not like.

Little did Denya know that soon enough his problems would lie with a more dangerous mob than a gaggle of sneering students.

Actually, the situation went almost completely opposite of what Denya had expected. He'd been expecting bullies and sport-jocks to be hustling him for money, knocking him over in the hall, spreading rumors about him, that sort of thing. Instead he found most of the students trying to go out of their way to avoid him. They cleared before him in the halls and yielded the water fountain to him. Hell, he went in the bathroom once and scared a kid so bad he bolted out of the washroom with his fly wide open.

When Denya raised this strange behaviour to Kohta, he merely laughed and pointed out that his reputation of single-handedly wiping the floor with three big jocks was superseding his reputation as a helper of the downtrodden.

So in that end, Denya was feared. As time passed and no one else was found in a pile in the bathroom, his reputation began to die down. And eventually people just began to ignore him, not interesting in provoking him in the least. Which was exactly what Denya wanted in the first place.

A week later, Denya lay in his bed, thinking back on his status. He had one damn good friend and a few other good acquaintances. His marks were good and he was very well invisible to the public's eyes. New kids joined, made asses of themselves, and took the fire instead of him. He was five months through his year and he could already imagine the crisp air of the farm when he got back. Reflecting on this, Denya smiled. Life was good.

By the time tomorrow came, he'd be looking back on that day with envy.

A/N: Yes, I know that inserting an OC into a canon cast is often a recipe for disaster, but give a guy a chance! I'll be writing from the canon characters perspectives as well, I'm trying to integrate Denya with them smoothly, not center everything around him. So please, read and review, especially review! I slave over chapter two as we speak, or as I type, so if you like this have no worries, more is on the way!

~JSF