Chapter Text
You are a girl.
And girls are supposed to like clothes and make-up, sleepovers, and gossip.
Girls are not supposed to like video games, sports cars, and fistfights (is it still a fistfight if it involves kicks? Well, you like kicking too).
At least, that’s what everyone keeps telling you – the woman who runs the orphanage, your teachers, your peers.
But you like all the things girls are not supposed to like – well, maybe except for the sports cars. You don’t really care about those. But you do love the thrill of moving your body, of standing before an opponent, the feeling of success from winning.
And you’re good at it.
However, because you’re also a kind person and a defender of justice, you don’t just want to pick fights with random people for the fun of it – not like you used to, at least. No, you want to use your abilities to defend the weak and to protect as many people as possible. However, you also know that you won’t have much of a chance of achieving your goal all by yourself.
Which is why you’ve decided to enrol in the all-boys Furin High School in the town Makochi, where you know Bofurin resides.
You first read about Furin High in the newspaper two years ago, in an article describing how the school went from being filled with typical delinquents to becoming vigilant defenders of justice.
And now, two years later, you are finally old enough to enrol as a first-year student.
Not that you spent these last two years twiddling your thumbs. No, you have worked hard and diligently to hone your fighting skills so that you will be well prepared when you arrive at Furin High. You also worked your butt off at a café in your hometown to save up for renting an apartment for when you arrive at Makochi.
The only one who knows of your plans is your twin brother, Ryo, the only one who truly seems to understand you. Or, well, maybe not understand you, but he accepts you and love you for who you are. And for that, you love him too.
He helped you sneak out of the orphanage to train. He lent you his clothes and helped you practice lowering your voice. He bought you bandages to wrap around your chest to hide that you were, in fact, a teenage girl and that you hit puberty two years ago.
He even gave you permission to use his name and helped you copy his own ID for your use (don’t do this at home, kids). The photo is slightly blurry, and since you share the same hair colour, nobody will notice – or at least, you hope so. As long as they don’t look too closely.
You’re not too sad or feeling remotely guilty for leaving – and ever since your brother left the orphanage, you had nothing to stay for anyways. Everyone will probably think that you’ve run away. Which technically, you have, but they don’t know to where or why. You doubt that they’ll care anyways. They think you’re weird, and the woman who runs the orphanage always tells you that nobody would want to adopt such a freak as yourself.
You’re not blaming anyone, though. It’s not their fault that you’re weird.
Your brother helps you with your suitcase. You didn’t pack much, only some of your own as well as your brother’s clothes, essential toiletries, a couple of worn cookbooks, and of course, as many bandages as you could fit. Bandages are expensive, and when you realised your brother had bought them for you with his own pocket-money, you immediately felt guilty and wanted to pay him back. But he insisted, saying that you needed your savings for when you arrived at Makochi and that with his new parents, he didn’t have much of a use of the money anyways.
You reluctantly accepted his gift, although you still intend to pay him back some day. Once you are settled in Makochi and have a little more money to spare.
“Take care,” your brother says as he pulls you into a tight embrace.
“You too, Onii-chan.” You bury your face in the crook of his neck, basking in this last moment you have with your brother before you see him again.
“Remember, no matter what you do, I will always support you.”
You nod. You are afraid that if you open your mouth, you might cry. Your brother seems to understand, though, because he gives you a light squeeze before letting you go, waves, and then, you are alone.
Or, as alone as one can be on a full train.
The ride is pretty uneventful. You have to change trains three times, but other than that, the most exciting thing happening to you is the bento you packed for your trip filled with oyakodon – leftovers from the dinner you helped cook for the orphanage last night.
That is about the only appropriate girl-thing that you enjoy doing: Cooking. You think it’s fun experimenting in the kitchen, and you love making other people happy with your food and baked goods. Even the woman who runs the orphanage thinks your cooking is decent, which is why she let you help with dinner every now and then.
Hopefully, the apartment you’ve rented in Makochi has a proper kitchen.
You arrive at Makochi one week before school starts. You’re not disguised as Ryo yet since there’s really no need before school starts, and the bandages are uncomfortable to wear.
The apartment complex looks pretty run-down, but it’s what you can afford and you’re not one to complain. Actually, you’re pretty excited to start your new life here. The landlord also seems nice enough, and he even gifts you a small box of cookies when you come to pick up the key.
So far, so good. The next step in your grand plan is to find work here. The deposit worth three months’ rent you had to pay to take over the apartment has made a huge indent in your savings, and if you want to keep living here, you have to find some way to earn some money. Maybe, you can find work at a café again as you have experience with serving customers from your old work. At your old workplace, you were not allowed to cook any of the food, but maybe this time, you will get lucky.
You start ascending the stairs to the floor of your apartment and are so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t notice the boy before you crash headfirst into him, dropping your box of cookies in surprise. However, before you can tumble down the stairs again, you are caught by two strong arms. There’s no saving the cookies though, which are now lying broken on the steps at your feet.
“Watch where you’re going,” the boy scowls, and you look up. You are met with the most unique eyes you have ever seen, the left one golden, the right one dark silver. Is he wearing contacts? Then, you notice his hair. The left half is pure white, while the right one is black as night. You wonder briefly is he dyes it, but then, you notice that his eyebrows and lashes are the same colours as his hair and conclude that this must be his natural hair colour. Then, it must also be his natural eye colour, you guess.
It suits him, you think.
No, it more than just suits him. It looks beautiful.
He lets you go as if he’d burnt himself, looking uncomfortable, and you realise that you’ve been staring for far longer than what is deemed polite.
“I’m so sorry!” You bow deeply as you apologise. “And thank you for saving me…?” You cock your head to the side, waiting for him to present himself.
At first, he looks confused, turning his head from side to side as if looking for whoever it is you could possibly be speaking to. As if he was certain that it couldn’t be him. As realisation dawns upon him, he points a finger at himself. “Huh? Me?”
You nod vigorously.
The boy narrows his eyes before reluctantly muttering, “Sakura. Sakura Haruka.”
He then looks at you intently, as if challenging you to make fun of him.
“That’s such a pretty name!” You exclaim and the boy blushes profusely, averting his gaze from you.
“Just watch where you’re going,” he grumbles. “And it wasn’t like I was saving you or anything. I only caught you because you were in my way.” He’s still not looking at you.
He’s obviously not used to people complimenting him, you think.
You smile and bow again. “Well, thank you anyways, Sakura-san.”
Sakura mumbles something unintelligible return.
You quickly bend down to scrape together the broken cookies, dumping them back into the box before brushing past him up the stairs.
When you are at the top of the stairs, you bow again, saying, “Nice to meet you, Sakura-san,” before you dart over to the door to your new apartment.
After you disappear into what Sakura assumes must be your apartment, he’s still standing on the staircase where you left him. He thinks you must be a newcomer like himself, judging by your suitcase and the cookies you were holding. He recognises them as the same cookies he got from the landlord when he moved in himself yesterday. Feeling bad that you dropped yours, he wonders if he should give you his own unopened box.
He knows he’s only just met you, but for some reason, he wants to find an excuse to see you again. You are the first person to ever compliment him. Usually, people make fun of his name, scorn him for his hair and his eyes.
But not you. No, you didn’t even blink as you took in the sight of him. Instead, you thanked him and smiled and said his name was pretty.
His name.
With dread, Sakura realises that he didn’t even ask for your name in return. And now that he thinks about it, he can’t even remember which one is the door to your apartment. Which is strange since he spent so long staring at it just moments before.
Well, since you live in the same apartment complex as him, he’ll probably get to--
Wait a moment.
Sakura shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. What is he thinking? It’s so unlike him to think about others like this. To actually want to get to know another person better. To want to do something nice for them.
He should probably just forget it, he tells himself before venturing down the rest of the stairs and into town.
The apartment feels huge. Objectively speaking, you know it’s tiny, but you’re so used to sharing a room with nine other girls that having so much space all to yourself feels quite overwhelming. There’s one larger room with a futon and a closet in the corner, a small bathroom, and a real proper kitchen with a sink, a stovetop, and a fridge in the corner. No oven, though.
You immediately begin to unpack the few belongings you brought with you, putting your clothes in the closet, the cookbooks on a shelve in the kitchen, and the toiletries and the huge pile of bandages in the bathroom.
The apartment still feels empty, but you don’t mind. It’s yours and you already love it.
Before you head into town to look for work, you consider whether to go as yourself or as “Ryo”. If you get work as Ryo, it will be easier to go directly from school to work without changing. And the less people in this town who sees you as you, the smaller is the chance of being discovered.
However, if you go as yourself, you don’t have to wear those uncomfortable bandages all the time – and if you don’t wear them all day, maybe you can reuse them more times. In the end, that’s what settles it for you.
So, you head into town as you, a high school girl full of spirit and hopes for the future.
Even though the town isn’t that small, everyone seems to know everyone, and you immediately stand out as a new face. People are nice, though, and eager to help you find work by guiding you towards café and shop owners who might be hiring. And so far, no one has called you out for being a weirdo, which you think is…weird.
However, you have no luck finding work the first day, nor the second, the third, the fourth, or the fifth.
It’s first on Saturday, two days before school starts, that you get desperate enough to search for work in Makochi’s Red-light District. You can neither dance, nor sing, but maybe some of the bars could use someone to serve food and drinks to the guests, to do the dishes, or clean the toilets. You don’t really care, as long as you get paid.
Otherwise, you won’t be able to pay for next month’s rent and then, you won’t be able to stay in this town and then, where will you go? You refuse to go back to the orphanage, only to be kicked out in a few years anyways.
When you enter beneath the large sign telling you that you are now on Keisei Street in Makochi’s Red-light District, you immediately feel out of place – well, more out of place than usual, you mean. The street is filled with blinking neon signs and people dressed in fancy clothes, and you don’t fit at all. You’re not even old enough to be here.
However, that does not deter you from your mission. Squaring your shoulders, you walk down the street, entering all the pubs and restaurants you come across to ask for work. The answer everywhere is the same though.
“Unless you can perform on stage, we don’t have anything for you.”
“We don’t hire minors, sorry.”
“But I can work in the kitchen,” you argue. “Or I can clean.”
“We’re already fully staffed, sorry kiddo.”
You’re not one to give up though, so you relentlessly continue with your quest. You are just about to enter yet another pub when a voice calls from behind you.
“Hi there!”
You turn around. A very tall girl – emphasized by a pair of very high heels – waves enthusiastically and you point a finger at yourself, silently asking if she means you. She nods energetically, making her hair swing back and forth vigorously. It’s very long and shiny and the tips are dyed pink.
Pretty, you think as you walk over to her.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help but hear that you’re looking for work, dear?”
You can’t help but notice how deep her voice is. You nod, hoping that luck is now finally on your side.
“What kind of work?”
“Anything besides performing, really,” you answer. “I used to work at a café, so I can serve food and drinks to customers. I can also clean and do dishes and stuff.”
The girl sends you a wide smile. “I have just the perfect job for you.”
