Chapter Text
For some strange reason, the girl with the long, braided, dark hair and huge round glasses is one of the most popular girls in the school. Though it could definitely be because the girl is a famous author – famous, of course, being an understatement – Kirigiri has doubts as to if that’s the true reason everyone flocks around her.
She pauses on her way to her geometry class; there’s something amiss with the aforementioned girl. Her name… I believe it was Fukawa Touko. Kirigiri awkwardly lingers in the hall, her bag slung over her shoulder, part of her long hair trapped beneath the single strap. Yes, that was her name.
From across the hall, Kirigiri can see that Fukawa looks highly uncomfortable with all of the students flocking around her. Everyone is making idle chatter with her about this and that, and yet Fukawa seems to be only half paying attention; maybe she’s just as shy as the rumours state, Kirigiri thinks, as her feet finally move on their own and she continues to her class.
Then again, Kirigiri really has no idea who Fukawa really is. The two lack classes together and Kirigiri has never heard or seen Fukawa make an attempt to talk even once. The literary girl clearly leads a lonely lifestyle. Hell, the only thing Kirigiri has heard about Fukawa has been from students gossiping, and all they repeat over and over is that “she’s shy but easy to talk to, and she never criticizes anyone”. Kirigiri thinks it’s strange; everyone, no matter who they are, is always critical of something.
Nevertheless, she has to push the curiosity out of her mind for the time being so that she can get through class. Afterwards, of course, she has a bit of free time to herself, and she plans to find out what Fukawa Touko is really like. She disregards the gossip she’s heard and takes a seat, pulling out her supplies from her bag just after dropping it to the floor near her desk.
Class moves at an indescribably fast pace for whatever reason, and when the bell rings, Kirigiri slowly packs her bag again and leaves the classroom last that day. Her teacher says goodbye to her, which she accepts with a light nod to show that she’s heard, and then she makes her way out.
She doesn’t know where to begin to find out things about Fukawa and she doesn’t know why this girl has piqued her curiosity, but nonetheless she saunters down the hallway and heads towards the library. The destination makes sense to her; maybe the girl, being an author and all, would be in the library if she just so happens to lack a class this hour.
Kirigiri’s assumptions prove correct. She takes her first few steps into the library, her eyes scanning over the various students there, when she momentarily locks gazes with Fukawa. The latter girl immediately looks away, drawing her arms around herself a little, and then one of her hands reaches out and turns a page in the novel that’s lying open on the table.
She hesitates in the doorway for a moment before she approaches Fukawa’s table and sits down across from her, acting as if she’s going to study. Fukawa’s grey eyes flick upwards at Kirigiri, and after another second she glances back down at her novel.
A minute of silence passes between them with Kirigiri staring blankly down at her spiral notebook before the latter raises her head up and introduces herself. Fukawa doesn’t respond at all, and Kirigiri thinks it’s due to the fact that the former is too caught up in her novel.
Kirigiri tries again. There’s no response, even though her second attempt was far louder than the first. She sits back and begins to think when she reasons that… maybe, Fukawa can’t hear her.
She scribbles some words in her notebook – “Why don’t you speak?” – and slides it across the table, prompting Fukawa to glance at it. Her eyes scan the words before she looks up at Kirigiri’s curious face, and with a shaking hand she aims her index finger at her right ear and mutters out a low hiss informing Kirigiri that she’s deaf. Her words are broken, but that’s to be expected for someone with a lack of hearing.
For a moment Kirigiri questions if Fukawa can read lips, and as soon as she’s sure Fukawa is staring at her, she murmurs, “Everyone talks about you, saying that the reason you don’t talk is because you’re shy. That’s… not quite the case, is it?”
“I c-can read lips,” Fukawa begins, and Kirigiri’s suspicions are then affirmed, “and I see no need to draw attention to myself by having a translator stand by me every second of every day.” Her words are spiteful and bitter.
“Why haven’t you tried to push those who gather around you away?” She’s using clearer diction than she normally would, just so that Fukawa read her lips successfully without any issues.
“It’s easier to i-ignore a band of idiots… rather than shove each away from me…” Fukawa half-growls, flicking her gaze away from Kirigiri. The latter simply stands and walks off, though it’s not because Fukawa has offended her or is too spiteful for her tastes; instead, it’s because she’s searching for something.
She returns near the end of the hour with several large books and sets them down by the notebook. Fukawa yet again looks up; on the page that Kirigiri has left open is a hastily-scribbled comment of, “You walked away because you find me disgusting…?” When Kirigiri spots it, her only response is to slowly shake her head and then reach towards one of the thinner hardcover books and open it to the third page.
Directly in front of Fukawa, Kirigiri brings her gloved hands up in front of her chest and begins practicing the signs listed, mouthing what each means as she does them. Fukawa’s eyes open wide and her jaw falls slack as she watches the mysterious woman who only met her half an hour ago begin to attempt to teach herself sign language.
After a few minutes, Fukawa manages to utter out a stunned, “W-why...?”
Kirigiri’s movements pause. She stares at Fukawa, a soft smile forming on her lips, and she simply says, “I’m curious.”
That’s definitely not a lie; she’s curious as to who Fukawa really is, as to why Fukawa seems so spiteful and why she called herself “disgusting” in the note earlier. For whatever reason, Kirigiri feels the need to get to know this girl; perhaps because they’re both social outcasts in some way.
Just as the bell rings and Kirigiri begins taking the books to the counter to check out for studying on her own time, Fukawa stops her and hands Kirigiri her notebook. There’s another note on it – “What is your name?” – to which Kirigiri responds by writing her name down on the same page and smiling her characteristic fishhook smile yet again.
Fukawa hands the notebook back yet again and hugs her novel against her chest, her gaze locked at the ground. She slowly turns and makes her way out of the library, her heavy braids momentarily twirling around her form as she retreats, and though Kirigiri knows that Fukawa cannot hear her, she murmurs out,
“I suppose we’ll meet again.”