Your P.O.V.~

Two days into the start of the project. My teacher gave us three weeks to work on some damn PowerPoint about a dead poet. I swear, I looked up the woman. Misaki Kamikita, Japanese novelist and poet; born May 13, 1907, died August 15, 1979. I didn't bother to look things up. If we were to fail, I'm gonna make sure I will do equal work as he did. Which was none. No work from him so far, so no work from me.

I hopped down the stairs and found my mom lounging on the couch reading a book and sipping tea in the living room. "Hey mom, so I have a project for Literature, and I absolutely hate it."

She laughed at looked up at me. "Partners? No partners?"

I rolled my eyes. "Ugh, about that... my partner was chosen by the teacher."

"Who is it?"

"Some kid from the ghetto named Eve. He's mean as hell."

My mom was furious. "Well, he cannot come in here!"

"But mom, wait. He's from the ghetto, yes. But I came up with an idea."

She nodded and listened for my plan.

"At school, a group of kids from Tokyo Ghetto vandalized the walls," I pulled out my phone and showed my mom a picture of it. "Their signature is over here. It says 'Outsiders.'"

"So a group of kids called the 'Outsiders' graffitied your school? And?"

"They're from the ghetto, remember? My partner is, too! So, if I bring him in, or if I go to him, I can find out who the Outsiders are! And get this," I breathed. "The Outsiders are the rats who vandalized our front wall, mom."

Her face became brighter. She liked my idea. "Hell, invite him over for dinner. Then you guys shall work on your project."

I shook my head in wild protest. "Mom no, not tonight! Not immediately!"

"Why, we have nothing going on. Plus, it's your idea, might as well get to it A.S.A.P. Miss Hanabusa!"

My mom stood up and walked towards our housemaid in the kitchen and started viciously telling her to make dinner for five.

I sighed and went into my contacts. My hands shook as my thumb hovered over Eve's number. Should I? Gah, who am I kidding? I clicked his number and called him.

~~~

He showed up about thirty minutes later and my mom greeted him with an unusually happy tone and a forced grin. Eve's face looked weirded out with the welcome he got. It was like he wasn't used to it. I stood awkwardly by the staircase and observed Miss Hanabusa giving him instructions.

He looked around and saw me. We locked eyes only for a second and he glanced away. I saw his cheeks blush. Why was he blushing? My cheeks also suddenly felt heat.

Oh, hell no.

When they were done greeting him and talking to him, they finally left him alone. My mother and Miss Hanabusa scurried away into the kitchen. Eve walked towards me, but as he did, I took a couple steps up.

"What, do I smell bad?" He asked with sass.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "No."

"Are we working on our project or not?"

"Yeah, follow me." I wanted to slap myself.

I allowed him to sit down on my spinning chair that was in front of my desk while I sat on my bed. He dressed up very cleanly, like any other day. One can't mistake him for a ghetto kid by one glance, at school, we just knew because we didn't know him from anywhere.

His backpack was his usual maroon schoolbag. Eve unzipped it and whipped out a small and slim laptop.

Wait, he has a laptop?

"So I did some research myself, found out that she lived through both World Wars. And there is a library in downtown named after Kamikita. I go there sometimes."

"Huh? She has?"

"Yeah, we can... maybe I can take you there tomorrow afterschool. My lil' brother might tag along."

I looked around nervously. "Okay? Uh..." I quickly pulled out my laptop. "I know her birthday and death day. I read a few of her poems. They were good."

"Have you read Intolerated?"

"No; just "1925", "Airhead", "Compensation," and "As You Like It". Wait, didn't you say that Intolerated was an epic?"

"Yes, but I found some really good excerpts, want to read it?"

I was about to protest against holding something he already held, but I had to act nice. I pressed my lips together. "Sure."

I took my a couple minutes to read one excerpt. "So? How is it {First Name}?"

"She's really good!" And I wasn't lying. "Mind if I read more?"

"That's fine. But as you read, let me tell you that Kamikita hated that Germans did so many racist things to the Jews. She was an activist against the whole war, and she founded an anti-fascist association, but they didn't gain enough notoriety to fly into history books."

"Awe, that's sad."

"I know, but she wrote so many good books and poems, it made up for the lost momentum."

I nodded. "I remember reading about how she was an activist way before activists were a thing."

He laughed. But his laugh surprised me. It wasn't his usual scoff and smirk, but it was a genuine giggle. "You can say that."

We worked for a few more minutes until Miss Hanabusa called us. "Dinner is ready."

Father was already at the dining table when we walked off the staircase. He looked at me with a smile then he looked at Eve. His smile vanished.

"Who the fuck is he? I've never seen him before."

"Oh, this is Eve; my partner for a project in literature class."

He nodded in hesitant approval, "Come, join us, Eve."

When My mother, brother, father, and I sat at the table, Miss Hanabusa served all of us a hearty meat stew with rice.

"Where are you from, Eve?" My dad asked.

"I'm from what you guys call the 'Tokyo Ghetto.'"

My father tried to suppress a cough of disgust. "Ah. Okay. I suppose you've never had this kind of food before?"

"My dad makes stews that are similar to this one. Although, your stews taste like they have more turmeric added."

Everyone at the table looked surprised. Even I was. I didn't expect Eve to have a few of the same things we did. Plus, his dad is the one that cooks? My dad doesn't even try to cook.

To avoid awkwardness, I decided to introduce everyone to Eve. "Eve, so this is my father, of course. He is the CEO of DP Entertainment. My mom, you've met her. And this is my older brother, he's in college."

"Is he your boyfriend?" My brother abruptly asked.

I threw a pork bone at him. "No."

"Ah, hello. Nice to meet you all, bour- great people."

"What were you going to say?" My dad stared down Eve.

"Nothing," he shook his head. "Or at least, none of your business."

Everybody gasped.

"How dare you!"

"I apologize, Mr. {Last Name}."

"No! Unacceptable! I want this rat out! {First Name}! Show him out!"

I shook my head, "Dad, he didn't mean it-"

"Bullshit. Out! Now!"

He slammed the table and Eve jumped up from his seat. I excused myself and ran upstairs to get his things for him. I ran back downstairs to see the door open with Eve already outside. I hated how my mom knew why Eve was here in the first place, yet she didn't dare to speak up.

"Eve, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, It's my fault. I was raised like this and I could've done better around you rich people."

I walked him out the gate.

"Are we still on for tomorrow?" I asked.

He made eye contact with me and I felt my cheeks burn. "Yeah, sure."

Eve started to walk away then I paged him again. "Sorry, uh, one more thing. Do you know who the Outsiders are?"

His eyes widened. "Yes. They're notorious for their 'graffiti' in Tokyo Ghetto."

"Really? Do you know the people in it? Is it a gang?"

"I wouldn't call them a gang. I call them artists."

I scowled, confused. Artists? Why artists? "But do you know any of them? Personally?"

He paused for a while, as if thinking. "Yes, I do."

Then he left.

Eve's P.O.V.

I picked up Ten from school with {First Name}.

"Owahh, Eve. Your girlfriend is really pretty."

"Oh, uh, little one? I'm not his girlfriend."

"But you're pretty."

She smiled and said thank you to Ten. We walked towards the downtown area, then boarded a train station.

"Huh? The library is that far?" She asked.

"Yeah. Though, it won't take long to get there."

Ten seemed excited to go to a library. Such a naïve kid. The train took us several stops until we reached a plaza where the crosswalks stretched all directions. Stores lined up the sidewalks. People populated the area more than where I lived near.

Ten hopped off the train before we did. He grabbed my hand, curious about the sights he saw. "Eve, Eve! Let's go there!"

"Maybe another time, Ten. Pretty girl and I have homework to do at the library."

The little boy pouted, but walked on. I looked at {First Name} whose face was dusted with a light pink.

Not even was it a long walk, it only lasted about five minutes. There stood a statue of Kamikita herself in front of a brick building. We climbed up the library's steps. The building itself looked grand and busy. The three of us stepped through the open doors and were greeted by the smell of coffee and book paper. I've been here before, but each time I come, I feel like I'm experiencing it for the first time.

{First Name} stared on in wonder at the bookshelves that reached the ceiling. Ten's mouth was open big enough to catch flies. "Wow." I heard her mutter.

"Cool, huh?" I comment. "Kamikita is considered the birthmother of Japanese fantasy writing."

She nodded. "No wonder she has this space dedicated to her."

"There's a whole section on her over there," I point to a corner with books that had classical covers lined up on a shelf that also touched the ceiling. "Shall we?"

Ten was quiet for once. Obedient. He let go of my hand and wandered to the children's section. I let him. He may be naïve, but he's not dumb. He can find us later.

Her eyes glittered under the fluorescent lights that the library had. Despite how large the place was, it soon felt small.

"Okay."

I led her there. We took our seats at the nearest available table. I unpacked my small laptop, a couple pens, and a notebook. She did the same.

"Wait here," I say, "I'll grab a book or two."

I scurry off to the books at my eye level. The Life of Misaki Kamikita. Revolutionary Gone Wrong. Famous Works by Misaki Kamikita. They were all biographies and second-hand work.

I look down and squatted. Poems by Kamikita. Propaganda of the World Wars. Japan's Beloved Queen of Fantasy.

More biographies and second-hand work.

In the back of my mind, I knew she had an autobiography and a compilation of her poems that were raw and untranslated.

Then I looked up.

All I had to do was look up.

~~~

We worked for a couple hours with the raw reading materials I found. It was a goldmine of studies. I even found an unedited version of Intolerated.

What made my heart beat a million times per minute was her very presence. Her hair complimented her skin. Her smile was adorable and her voice was to die for. She was everything I would've dreamt of. And she was sitting right in front of me.

We called it a day and checked out the books.

"Hey, uh. Do you mind if I go over to your place for a while? We can do more research there."

"I don't mind actually. My place is a shithole unlike yours."

{First Name} giggled.

I found myself being considered an equal with her. I hope she felt the same. We didn't insult each other anymore.

Ten waddled sleepily on the way home. His right hand held my left and his left hand held {First Name}'s right.

I can almost peek at her smile. It made me smile myself.

Your P.O.V.~

He gave me a stool to sit on while we made space in his bedroom. It was nearing seven o'clock at night. His brother was asleep on the same bed he slept on. The window was open letting out a breeze, and here we sat up engrossed in reading. This project was becoming fun.

"What time do you have to be at home," he asked.

He wasn't bad for a kid from the ghetto. His apartment may look shitty but his dad was kind; unlike Eve when I first met him. But over these few days, Eve got more open and less insulting. I noticed that I changed a bit, also.

"I have to be home by eight. We have time."

"Cool," he stood up and walked to the door of the room. "I'll be back." Then he left.

I was alone with a sleeping boy. I quietly got back to working, but a colorful paper caught my eye. I bent over and picked it up from the floor. My eyes widened as I gasped.

Dramaturgy.

It was the same design that covered one of the walls at school.

I look at the floor again for familiar designs and I saw another drawing hidden. I grabbed it and shook my head as I blinked blankly at it. It was the same design as the literary nonsense that tainted my father's mansion. I swung my leg and accidentally kicked something metal. I look down again and see a single green spray paint canister. My head jolted up and looked around. And there it was. An assortment of spray paint cans peeking out from under the bed.

I stared back at both drawings and realized something I didn't want to accept. The Outsiders' signature.

On the back of the papers, they were signed individually by Eve.

As if... Eve was the one who created these.

Oh my fucking god. Eve is an-

I hear footsteps coming back and I hastily stuffed both papers in my binder.

"Sorry, {First Name}, but I gotta drop you off now, my dad is not feeling too well."

I nodded quickly. "Yeah, yeah. That's fine. It's okay."

He helped me pack up my books and papers. He walked me downstairs and out the apartment building. He was kind enough to walk me through Tokyo Ghetto.

"Eve," I said. "Do you have any close friends?"

"Yeah I do. Three of 'em. Stuck with me ever since childhood."

"What are their names?

He looked at me as he spoke. "Sou, Mafumafu, and Amatsuki."

I pressed my lips together. "Are you guys close to the Outsiders?"

"If I am, they are, too."

They might be the other Outsiders.

Play it calmly. "Well, my only close friend is named Soraru."

"Hmm," he mumbled. "Be safe," Eve said smiling at me. His cheeks were colored in a crimson red. He didn't look like he minded.

My face heated up also. I look down to see that we were holding hands. I didn't know. "Thank you."

I let go and turned away from him and paced away.

What was I doing?

Eve created those drawings. And he vandalized those walls.

He's one of the Outsiders.