Disclaimer: I do not own khr, it's owned by Amano Akira

Chapter 11

Building

You know the uplifting feeling you get when the sun is starting to rise in the horizon, the glistening of dew on grass, and for some reason the air just smells cleaner - more refreshing? I would be enjoying that right now, if it wasn't for the fact I was wheezing, face a blotchy red with some serious side boob sweat going on.

In my Cassidy state of mind - former track and cross country runner in high school, student athlete that had won a few races in college, this should have been a breeze. Four kilometers of running, psh- I would do 5 kilometers for practice almost daily. So why oh why, did I feel like I was dying?

Obviously it was because Midori does little to no exercise in her life, outside of the small jogs mandatory for gym at school. Perhaps, she took a few walks around the neighborhood to greet the elderly in the morning and to run errands. The woman had been more of the bookish, house wifey type than the athletic charismatic type (the old me).

These were attributes I was not okay with.

I was going to change that, had to if I was going to be somewhat involved with Nagi - who would be somewhat involved (maybe?) with the mafia, I had to at least be able to run from danger. I doubt, being understanding and talking gently would dissuade people from harming me. So yeah, in the face of danger I was going to go full Cassidy, Midori could go use her talk therapy on someone who didn't have a pineapple hairstyle and couldn't outsmart a freak'n mafia prison.

Despite my inner monologue of the near future, the other person I have to worry about is giving me encouragement.

"Harada-sensei, we're almost there you can do it to the EXTREMEEEEEEEE."

I couldn't even answer, needing every bit of energy and oxygen in me instead of replying to the canon character. Ryohei had been the kindest of all the boxing club members, and had decided to jog slowly with me. The other boys were probably already back at the school, starting their morning punching routine.

He still looks like a punk, hoodie and gym shorts on, with sweat soaking the bandage on his forehead. But he's a sweet punk nonetheless.

At least Ryohei doesn't have a psycho possessing his body in the future. But he will have a blonde baby instructor I have to worry about.

Next year will be loads of fun, I just know it.

Hear my sarcasm?

It's strong.

-x-v-x-v-x-v-

"You've been really busy lately."

I'm trying my best to keep my voice casual, not demanding - not accusing, just neutral. It's hard not to have insecurities when the guy you're talking to on the phone is a gorgeous blonde Italian hottie. Who is sweet and all around adorkable, a guy you hardly see and most of all a guy you know a lot of women aim for. Oh, and the relationship still isn't defined yet, i'm in a weird in between of friends but more than friends. But there's the confusion of culture differences and the wonder if this is the norm for him with any female (probably not though, i've seen him freak out with other girls).

He sounds apologetic, as I hear his voice through the phone, "Things are picking up more at work, i'm sorry we haven't been able to talk much."

There isn't anything in his voice that gives it away, the sorrow that is masked in his words. But I know it's there, because it's familiar, and painful memories of the past begin to resurface about his look-a-like. Taking on a cheery note as I run my finger through a ringlet, curling the strands around and around in a sense of calm I reply, "Things happen, oh Akaya and I found something that would be perfect for you. We found a book about bears, and was reminded about your antics with Borin-sensei."

"Oh no, don't remind me." I can't help the tug of the corners of my lips, at the sound of an exasperated groan makes its way into my ears.

"Yup. It's a survival guide for all sorts of bears in the wild. We bought it for you to keep!"

There's a hint of incredulous, but I can hear him beaming in excitment. There's a sudden visual of a broad smile and a single dimple pressed into his cheeks, "You two bought stuff for me?"

"Of course, there isn't a day that I don't see things that remind me of you. I can't help but buy them sometimes."

My face is flaming as I try to squash my over analyzing brain, did that sound a little too desperate?

"Thank you, I- the same happens to me too."

Okay not desperate if it's mutual. Face hot, the previous emptiness I felt starts to recede. The heavy weight of my suspicions are gone as I gain confidence.

"So what's your address so I can send it to you? I have a few other goodies, like that one snack you're obsessed with. What was it called?"

"The rice cracker with seaweed, wasabi, and tuna flavored?"

"Yeah that's the one!" I grin as I jot down the information, deciding before mailing the book I'll stop by the convenience store.

"Oh man, those are so good."

"So what's your address again?"

The silence couldn't have been for more than 10 seconds, but it feels out of place like an orange in a bushel of apples.

"Uh," he pauses again, and there's some static from quick rustling. "I have to go, my boss is calling me! I'll send you the address later."

I don't want to overthink it, over analyze his words.

"Oh, sure?"

"Bye!"

"Bye..."

But is it over analyzing and overthinking if I'm right?

He's being distant and I don't know why.

I know how it goes, the reluctance to tell me information to locate him. Then there will be less calls, we're already starting to use the phone and not video calls. Excuses of family, work, school until there will be no more excuses because there will be no more calls.

Then just like that, he'll be gone.

I've been through this before and I don't want to do it again.

-x-v-x-v-x-v-

In my goal to become more active, I've started walking during my lunch breaks. At this point, any form of exercise will help. Unfortunately, I also get to witness teenage hormones and drama at it's peak. The teens get to roam around after being confined to their seats for so long, and the hallways are always jam-packed with a swish of skirts and boisterous laughter. Maybe I should start taking my walks outside, it would be better for my stress levels.

Stress that's starting to peak as I hear familiar voices around the corner.

"We're not the stupid looking guys with pompadours, do chicks event come in a kilometer radius of you?"

I don't want to get involved, not in a dramatic testosterone face off between pubescent teens. But it's hilarious hearing the cherubic Takahashi, who acts so innocent and cute, with a sneer in his tone.

"Why you-"

His opponent sounds much older, voice deeper, perhaps a third year student?

"Even if Hiro-hiro-senpai has the derpy looking delinquint blonde hair, he's smart and rich. Which obviously neither of you have."

There's a slight rumble in my throat, wow this kid was savage. I can't leave at this point, this is too funny, my stomach's hurting and I wave off a pair of students who are coming this way. I'll be the only spectator here, thank you very much.

"You looking for a fight, kid?"

I still, at the voice laced with anger. I knew this wasn't going to end well. I peak around the corner and spot a huge teen, like there's-no-way-he's-fifteen huge. The boy-man is towering over Takahashi and Hiroshi, by two heads. His pompadour hair style, which looks absolutely ridiculous- jelled and shiny, gives the illusion of height. He's all ready to go with clenched fists, eyebrows drawn tight, and a sneer that takes up half his face.

Then there are my two cute students, Takahashi puffing his chest out like a pissed chihuahua and Hiroshi just looking antsy while drumming his fingers against the book in his hand.

The small boy, not one to back down scoffs, "Bring it on, we all know people are only scared of you because of Hibari. At least I can fight on my own."

Fists are about to be launched, as I hear the rustle of sleeves being rolled up and spot Hiroshi edging away from the scene.

Oh no, that can't be good.

With my teacher mode immediately turned on, I come around the corner and ask with hands on hips, "What is going on here?"

The fists are dropped instantly and the sweet voice is back in the youngest boxing member's voice.

"Harada-sensei!"

The bleach blonde haired boy rolls his eyes, at the quick change in his teammate but the nervous fidgeting is gone.

I level the two with a stare before looking at the humongous teen before me, "Go back to your classes, lunch is almost over."

He's still pissed, and surprisingly his sneer is still on his face. Perhaps Hibari's cronies aren't afraid of teachers because Hibari himself instills fears among my peers. I can't imagine how these punk kids will be like in the future, where they think they can just boss people around into submission.

Part of me feels sick, the other part is raging.

"This is none of your business bit-"

Oh yeah, definitely raging.

I cut him off, voice neutral, but eyes cool. "Interesting word choice you're about to use. I believe in the student handbook your disciplinary committee head cherishes so much, it says profanity is not tolerated at Namimori Middle."

Like magic, the boy-man suddenly looks nervous. It seems like Hibari doesn't treat his followers very kindly, they fear him just as much as anyone else in the student body if that shake in his arm is anything to go by.

Voice full of authority, because this punk kid needs to listen to someone other than Hibari freaking Kyouya, I say, "Keeping the school orderly is different from bullying, do I make myself clear?"

He's glaring out the window, before he directs his glare behind me where Takahashi is probably making a face. The boy-man spits out a quick, "Yes ma'am."

"Now, go."

I nod to myself as I watch him walk away, because score another crisis averted, this teaching thing isn't so bad. Then I remember who's behind me as a beaming black haired boy looks up at me with little sparkles in his eyes.

"So, cool!"

The other boy goes for a face palm, and if I wasn't trying to keep the cool teacher image going I would've done the same. Instead I let my eyebrow quirk and say with the same stern voice, "A word Hiroshi, Takahashi."

The smiles disappear, but hey - i'm trying to be a fair teacher here.

It takes two, in this case three, to start a fight. I'm not letting these teens start trouble under my watch - i'll have enough of that with canon, don't need that here too.

-x-v-x-v-x-v-

Tangy and sour, I pucker my face as the yellow fruit slowly mellows into a sweet after taste. Then take a fork and skewer another piece, for some reason it helped my stress levels. I offer the impaled fruit to the young girl besides me, already donning the light blue dress I bought for her. She takes it cautiously and nibbles on the corner before making a face.

"You don't like it?"

She shakes her head quickly, indigo bangs swishing from side to side, and continues to nibble slowly.

Nagi spent the weekends at my parent's house now. I'm not sure at this point if it was an actual arrangement between my mother and the woman who birthed Nagi, or if she was just dumped here at night. I didn't want to ask, I already felt like I knew the answer.

Patting her head absentmindedly, because this was a stress reliever too - feeling a soft silky hair underneath my fingers, I glance at my mom from across the table.

"I think I'll move out of Auntie's house and find a place of my own."

Frowning the older woman ponders, "Aren't you too young to live on your own?"

Embarrassed because I didn't like looking like a child in front of Nagi, I squeak losing composure, "Mom I'm twenty-two!"

"Dear I know. But it's still your first year of work and you'll have to keep your living space clean, cook, take out the garbage, do laundry."

Exasperated I try not to roll my eyes, it wasn't like I was a kid, I mutter, "I can already do that!"

The already muted words almost drowned out the blunette's own murmured, "I do that now."

I couldn't speak, didn't want to let the hateful words spill out of my mouth in front of the girl who looked at me with big violet eyes. I wasn't angry at her, didn't want her to misunderstand, so I kept my mouth clamped shut.

My mother, a master of dispelling silence, smiled kindly and asked, "Nagi sweetheart, what would your own home look like?"

Eyes never leaving my face she answers, "Small, with a lot of windows." Tilting her head, her indigo bangs fall into her eyes again and automatically I brushed them away.

We both blinked, and like magic the anger slowly began to dissipate. A chuckled rumbles from my throat as I ask, "With lots of cats too?"

"Mhmm," the smile is there now, it's small but she looks absolutely delighted.

Awhile later we sat on the sofa, talking about the most random things while I braided her hair. It felt familiar as I moved a right strand to the left and a left strand to the right, crisscrossing hair.

It's strange, how when I'm with her I feel at peace but when I'm not there's a mix of anger and sadness. It's hard to see her as chrome with the short pineapple hairstyle and eyepatch adorning her face. All I can see now is a small long haired child, with big purple eyes on a small face.

To me she is Nagi, and I've begun to cherish these small moments.

Mother set the forgotten fruit onto the living room table and I went over for the sour fruit, before glancing at the young girl. She had the same scrunched up face, little wrinkles forming between her eyes and nose.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Her face drops, and there's a dust of pink across her face as she stares at the ground. "I don't like pineapples..."

I hear a small gasp escape my mother, worry etches across her face as she says, "Oh Nagi, you don't have to eat anything you don't want to! I kept giving it to you because you ate them without complaint. We have lots of fruit in the house-"

Knowing the rambling and apologizes that would come after, I interrupted, "What fruits do you like?"

She blinked owlishly at the ground and then looked up towards us, with a quiet voice she said, "I like apples."

"Me too, pineapples are too sour anyway. How about we both stay away from pineapples from now on?"

I grin as she nods.

You hear that canon? No more pineapples from here on out.