eight

duck eat duck world

After classes ended in the morning, I went to another kind of hell.

Helping Murayama with his literature essay.

We we working in the kitchen that morning because I wanted to make cinnamon rolls, and that alone was going to take few hours before they could even go in the oven. More and more people eventually got added to my roster, as it seemed that nobody in this building ( other than Todoroki and myself ) seemed to posses any kind of brain cell, many first years coming to me with questions regarding homework. They treated me as an all-knowing sentient being, when in reality I couldn't help with half the stuff they asked me, which often resulted in work not being done. Freaking teenagers. I remembered the days.

"For the last time, Fujio, I am not doing your homework for you." I sighed, placing shrink wrap over the second tray of cinnamon rolls "I'm sure you can think of the answers if you use enough of your brain cells."

Tsukasa grinned "He doesn't have any."

"I can hear you." Fujio grumbled, staring at the crumpled math worksheet. I was no good with numbers, and I guess nobody else was either.

They didn't really have classes at Oya, per say. They really just threw textbooks at the kids and told them to learn, explaining at length why there were still so many twenty year olds here.

Murayama sat at the other end of the kitchen island, lazily writing out a first draft of his essay while munching on leftover stir fry.

I reached over and snatched the lined paper, scanning the first paragraph.

"What was that for?" Murayama shouted in between bites of stir fry

I rolled my eyes "You were staring at the same page for like half an hour." I turned my eyes back to the paper, amazed as I continued to read the first paragraph. "I'm impressed. It literally sounds like Todoroki wrote it, but I've been here since you started, so I know that he didn't. You are smart."

Murayama shrugged "I didn't get to where I am by doing my homework, but that doesn't mean I couldn't have done it."

Fujio snickered, my phone going off in my back pocket simultaneously.

I pulled out my phone, staring down at the text message from Tsukasa. It was a picture from the other day, clearly taken at an awkward angle, Todoroki's head disappearing from out side the frame. I was asleep on Murayama's shoulder, a content smile on both of our faces, hands intertwined. While I was staring at it, Tsukasa sent another message.

Try and tell me you aren't in love now.

Because it looks like he is too.

I shot the blond a glare before sighing to myself and passing back Murayama's essay. "That's actually pretty good, Hot Shot. See if you can't finish drafting that first page by the time the oven's ready for these cinnamon rolls."

With the kitchen slightly less chaotic as I had to wait a few hours to do anything more with what I was baking, I placed the used glass mixing bowls in the large sink and settled down to study Japanese Building Code. Which is not fun and quite frankly made me reconsider my entire major the second the teacher gave us a copy of the book.

Everything was going somewhat okay before a kid wrapped in layers of blankets came storming into the kitchen looking for Fujio.

"Oh dear god." Murayama groaned "I don't have the patience for this, what has he done now?"

"Where the hell are my clothes?!" The unnamed boy shouted before Fujio burst out into laughter

"Hang on." I said, confusion marring my features. "What do you mean 'where the hell are your clothes'?"

The boy shook his head in anger. "We were playing beer pong last night, and Kiyoshi and I were like, totally hammered-"

"'Cause all the first years are lightweights." Fujio interrupted, promptly earning him a smack in the head.

"Anyways," the unnamed boy continued "Nakaoka said that Shibaman said that we were going to go streaking, crash one of the other schools."

I snorted "You believed him?"

"Well" Tsukasa grinned "They were piss drunk and it was pretty funny seeing how worked up Nakaoka was."

"Turns out, it was a bold faced lie Hanoaka over here came up with, and then he and that dorky friend of his, what's his name, the one we almost killed a few months ago... oh, Jamuo! Yeah, Fujio and Jamuo ran off with my clothes, supposedly to get me back for something I can't even remember doing!"

"You almost killed him!" Fujio shouted back.

I stood up abruptly, my hardcover copy of the couple-thousand-page Building Code clattering to the floor with a loud thump. "First of all, I don't even know who you are."

The boy smiled, extending a hand from the mound of blankets he was wrapped in. "Yasushi."

I shook my head, staring at his hand. "I think I'll pass. Second of all, Fujio, give the poor kid his clothes back."

"Yeah, I'm not gonna do that." Fujio grinned childishly, earning himself yet another slap in the head.

"Fujio, give Yasushi his fucking clothes, or I swear to god-"

Before I could finish, the door flew open, Furuya rushing into the kitchen. His usual bowling shirt was untucked, a small trickle of red blood dripping down the corner of his lip. "Murayama-san, you might want to come outside." We all sat up a little straighter, panic blossoming on Yasushi's face as he realized he still had no clothes to put on. "I'll get the little twerp some clothes, but the rest of you should hurry up and haul ass to the courtyard."

"Why?" Murayama asked, shoving more stir fry in his mouth and getting to his feet, all to eager to get away from his literature homework. "What's happening?"

"We're under attack." Furuya shouted before quickly running back down the hallway through which he came.

We hurried out of the kitchen, watching all the other students panicking or in various states of hyping each other up before the fight began. Outside in the courtyard, a sea of guys in yellow sweatshirts and chino pants were marching across the field as we met Todoroki in the middle, standing in a wall-like formation. I tried to sink towards the back but Murayama reached fro my hand, pulling me to stand next to him. We Oya students walked forwards to meet the other school in the middle, Murayama moving to stand almost nose-to-nose with a scruffy redhead who was at least one head taller than him. Murayama had to look upwards to meet the other guy's gaze, and quite frankly it was kind of sad.

"Since when were there girls at Oya?" The redhead sneered, looking in my direction

Murayama grinned. I'd never seen him in an all-out brawl before but if the pictures taken at the Container Fight meant anything, then we were in for a show. "Since Dori-chan proved that she could wipe out most of this year's incoming and outgoing classes."

Untrue, but I thanked him for the sentiment.

Muryama took a step back before screaming to the rest of the crowd:

"Let's get these assholes!"