Chapter Text
Everyone knew that Mizuki Fukushima was having trouble. It was evident by the wrinkled papers the teachers would hand back to her during class, littered with red pen marks and single digit numbers at the top. It was clear in the way her once bubbly way of speaking had become dull and mumbled, her words slurred together like a drunkard. It showed by the way she never looked up anymore; her gaze was always trained on the ground. It felt like years had passed since she’d made eye contact with anyone.
If someone tried speaking to her, she would practically run away. Most days, not a single word passed her lips until she got home after school and was forced to act okay for her parents. This wasn’t much of an issue, though; no one spoke to her anyway. Mizuki had once been one of the most popular of the class. She had a circle of friends, a class schedule of teachers who adored her and her diligence in studying, and even a couple of boys who would steal glances at her in the hallways and plot how to win her attention. Everyone loved her.
But that was over. That Mizuki had died months ago. The new Mizuki is a nobody who spends all her time alone. She couldn’t change that even if she tried, which she had given up on.
Her long, jet black hair that reached her waist is now above her shoulders and dyed dark blue. The artistic makeup she once wore has disappeared. The delicate jewelry that once adorned her ears and fingers is gone, save for a single ring on her left pinkie finger she refuses to get rid of. “It’s like she’s trying to make herself look horrible,” people would mutter behind her back, eyeing her with contempt and disgust. “She used to be so pretty,” others would say, sadness tingeing their tone.
Mizuki pretends she doesn’t care. She pretends she doesn’t exist at all. Day after day, she is simply a ghost floating through the school hallways, soul disconnected from her body, barely processing her surroundings. Numbing herself is the only way to get through.
On one particular Tuesday, an announcement over the PA system calls her to the guidance office after class. Whispers and pointed fingers threaten the ghostly un-perceiving state she had worked so hard to get into. Mizuki takes a deep breath and focuses on placing her notebook into her backpack and zipping it up. She makes her way to the guidance office once the bell rings. A few other students are in there, but thankfully, they’re too absorbed in their own problems to notice her.
“Miss Fukushima, there you are,” one of the counselors, Mrs. Arata, says. “Take a seat in my office, I’ll be right with you.”
Mizuki stares at her shoes as she waits. She already knows what Mrs. Arata has called her in for. The school would never be able to handle one of their students having such poor marks as Mizuki. Mental health be damned.
“How are you doing?” Mrs. Arata asks, closing the door behind her and taking a seat across from Mizuki.
“Fine."
“Look at me when you speak, Miss Fukushima."
…
“Mizuki.”
At her first name, the girl lifts her head slightly, training her eyes on the wall behind the counselor.
“Do you know why I called you here?”
She shrugs. Of course I know.
Mrs. Arata sighs deeply, deciding to let the rude demeanor slide. “Mizuki, your grades have dropped dramatically this past semester.” She waits for a response, but Mizuki is like a statue. Mrs. Arata gives another sigh and continues, “I have decided to put you in private tutoring until your grades are back where they should be.”
Mizuki flinches. With who? The thought of working one-on-one with anyone makes her stomach turn. She couldn’t think of a single person she would be okay to work with. And anyway, it’s not like she needs to be tutored; she understands all the class material perfectly fine. There is a deeper rooted issue at play here. Leave it to school officials to overlook the things that actually matter.
“I’ve set you up with one of the school’s best students to help you get back on track.”
Like a flipbook, Mizuki’s mind races through everyone she had once been close with before the incidents. None of them are top students. In fact, she was probably the smartest of the group. Though they’re all doing better than me now.
“You’re going to be tutored by Yuki Soma.”
Mizuki’s stomach drops. She momentarily forgets to mask her reaction, causing Mrs. Arata to squint in confusion. “Do you know Soma?"
Mizuki snaps back to the present moment, yanking her mind away from past feelings that were swirling up in a whirlwind all over again at the mention of the silver-haired boy’s name. “Oh, um, yeah, I’ve seen him around,” she mumbles. “Everyone knows Soma,” she adds, her voice almost inaudible. Mrs. Arata nods.
“Well he’s a fantastic student. Of course, as the student council president he’s very busy, but he was able to carve out some time in his schedule to meet with you every day.” She gives a tight smile so insincere that Mizuki looks away. “Your first session with him will be after school tomorrow. How does that sound?”
“Fine,” Mizuki says softly.
“Wonderful. I will be checking your grades every now and then to ensure the tutoring is effective. If you continue to struggle…” Mrs. Arata’s voice trails off, and Mizuki knows she’s implying some awful punishment.
“I understand.”
“Good. You’re dismissed.”
Mizuki kicks every pebble in her path on the walk back to her house. She had done her best to forget about Yuki Soma. She thought she had killed those leftover feelings. In fact, Yuki had hardly crossed her mind since she had lost all her friends and social standing. What was the universe trying to tell her, shoving him back in her life at a time like this?
She is sure Yuki never spares her a thought. He’s the most popular guy in the entire school; there is simply no way. Of course, she had been popular once, but things are different now. She is known for bad reasons. More and more people are paying her no mind at all. She can’t imagine Yuki as anything more than some distant muse who had occupied her daydreams for so long.
She says a silent prayer that wouldn’t happen again.