Chapter Text
Hoshimi High School, an ordinary Japanese school tucked away in a quiet town, hosts students who are just like any other. At least, that's what's written in papers.
The dismissal bell rang, and several students in Class 1-A let out sighs of relief. Before anyone could bolt, the teacher raised his voice. “Wait. Before everyone leaves, I need you all to take this worksheet.” Quiet grumbles rippled through the room as he started passing out papers to the first row.
“It’s a quick one, so I expect everyone to hand it back tomorrow.” He adds before leaving. The sheets moved smoothly down the rows—until they reached the back. One kid stood there awkwardly, shaking as he tried to get his back-row deskmate's attention, who was using his arms as a pillow on the desk.
“U-um… excuse me…” he started, forcing a weak smile, eyes already squeezing shut. “Wonger, right? Can you—”
“Fu.”
The simple growl made the kid freeze. His throat went dry before he let out a quiet “Ah?” as he opened his eyes just in time to see Jabber Wonger lift his head. To Fu’s horror, he was shooting him a glare sharp enough to snap someone in half.
“What the fuck do you want?”
Fu panicked. “UH, I was just- no, I had, I mean, I want to give this paper! So I had to, you know-.” He muttered as his voice grew quieter, trying to reason with the man in front of him, who was visually getting more irritated.
Realizing he had already made the situation 10 times worse by talking, he decided to do what he knew best.
“SORRY, j-just here! Take it!”
Runaway, Fu ran away, if you can even call it that. He practically threw the worksheet at Jabber, then grabbed his bag and bolted, stumbling over his own feet on the way out.
Jabber stared at the pathetic escape, lip curled. On any other day, it wouldn’t have bothered him. But today? He was already sick of this shit. “Tsk. Fucking pussies,” he muttered, unintentionally crumpling the paper in his grip.
For a moment, he pauses, staring blankly at the worksheet. It was different, but it felt like the same piece of paper he’d always get every day, the same one he had to answer every night after school, the same shit he had to pass the next day.
It felt sickening to him, like he felt he was reliving the same day over and over again. His face tightened into a scowl, crumpling the paper more as he whined in his head, making everything feel irrelevant at that moment...
‘This hellhole is driving me crazy.’
‘With its garbage rules, dead-end classes, and worst of all, these classmates that are straight-up wusses!’ He thought as he could feel himself rotting from the inside out just by sitting at his desk.‘Ain’t nobody here got the heart to talk back, stir up drama, or even hold eye contact.’
‘Back where I'm from, somebody would’ve squared up by now. But here? These losers look like they’d fold if I even bumped into 'em!’ The boredom gnawed at him. He’d expected the people in Japan to have some real fight in them. Instead, he got a room full of spineless robots.
‘Ain’t a single soul in this entire joint who knows how to throw hands—’
“…Nijiku, the teacher gave us something while you were gone.” A voice snapped him back, followed by a faint pair of footsteps. It made him feel the crushed paper in his hands again, as the noise of the classroom rushed in his ears.
‘Well, ain’t a single one but him.’
He looked up—Zanka Nijiku, the section’s tryhard, or as Jabber would call him, Mr. Perfect Ordinary. Everyone else bought his act—everyone except for him.
A familiar warmth surged through him, making his mind reel. The sense of numb boredom burns away in an instant as he gazes at the only thing that has a chance of satisfying him.
‘Because I know what I saw that day.’
.
.
.
.
It had been dark, but not dark enough, as the dim evening light was just enough for Jabber to see the look of repressed rage blooming in Zanka's eyes as he choked the person beneath him. The sight sent a twisted thrill through Jabber. It wasn't fear, but it was a sense of… hope?
Maybe this is hope. Hope that he'd finally found something he had been needing. As the feeling of something he thought he had forgotten returns—an intense urge that overpowers him. One that made him want to get closer to the scene, just a bit closer.
STEP
That’s all he wanted in the moment…
.
.
.
.
Jabber caught himself giggling quietly at the memory, lost in the fantasy. A few nearby students awkwardly looked away, pretending they didn’t notice.
He only snapped out of it when he overheard Zanka's friend offer to walk home together.
“Sorry, but I have to do somethin’ here real quick. You can go on without me.” Zanka rejected the request as he picked up his school bag. Making Jabber’s eyes wander to him.
“Oh, wow. Okay. Don't let me keep you from your very busy schedule, then,” The other replied, with a sudden cold tone. “See you tomorrow, I guess.” Without waiting for a response, they turned on their heels to leave, exiting the homeroom before casually asking another student to walk home with them.
Jabber raised his eyebrow at this. ‘Man, these folks are trippin'.’ He’d thought to himself. ‘Who invites people out to walk? That sounds boring and awkward as hell.’
While Zanka had just sighed at the interaction, he moved on, unzipping his bag, pulling out his phone, and taking a quick picture of the chalkboard.
Click, a noise that reminded Jabber that there were less infuriating things to focus on right now. He looked back at the guy, who was now packing his stuff, seemingly preparing to leave despite his last statement to the other guy, which caught him off guard.
‘So he was lying to that other guy.’ Jabber’s grin widened.
‘Perfect.’
Zanka slung his bag over his shoulder, arranging his seating area before heading for the door, eyes on the floor, seemingly in a daze. The remaining students’ chatter faded around him.
SLAM
The sliding door slammed shut right in front of Zanka’s face. jolting him back to reality. While also catching the attention of some of the students
“What the hell! Hey, you know I was about to—” Zanka cuts himself off as he finally takes a good look at the culprit. It was Jabber, the troublemaker in their section, leaning against the doorframe, grinning down at him with manic delight, acting like he had more than an inch of height on the other boy.
“What? Cat got your tongue, Mr. Perfect Ordinary?”
Whispers spread through the few students left in the room. They shot Zanka pitying looks, already writing him off as the next victim of the class troublemaker. Despite this, Zanka stayed calm. Silent.
Jabber’s grin twitched. He couldn't say he didn't expect something like this from a guy like Zanka. Still, he wasn’t about to back down. Especially since it's the only spark of interest he’d found in this entire boring-ass school.
So he leaned in closer, voice dripping with mockery. “You know it’s rude not to talk to someone who’s just trying to have a chat with you.” He glanced away.
“I thought you outta all people should know that best, since you're our so-called model student, but I guess you’re as disconnected from reality as your choppy eyebrows are from each other,” he'd internally laughed to himself. Feeling proud of the joke he'd made.
But still nothing.
Jabber was about to open his mouth to continue, only to realize Zanka was gone when he looked back. “What the hell?” He whipped around to the other students, but they all looked away, refusing to get involved with him.
SHUT
The sound of the second door closing made Jabber realize what had happened, and he cursed under his breath. “Well fuck me…” He had forgotten about the other exit and how Zanka could have used it to escape.
Without a second thought, Jabber burst out of the classroom, shoving through the hallway crowds, hoping to find Zanka. But instead, he found himself among unfamiliar, irrelevant faces. Each turn in the hallway led to a dead end, with no sight of that blond brunette boy anywhere, which meant
He had lost him.
After a while, Jabber stopped, bent over, and breathing hard. He slammed a fist against the wall, “So you wanna play cat and mouse, huh?” he said breathlessly, before straightening up with a wild grin spreading across his face.
“Fine, I'll play your little games, Zanka. I'll play it real well.” He laughed, low at first, then louder and more unhinged. earning a few glances from people in the hallway, but he couldn't be careless at the moment. Not when things were officially getting started