You know what that means, right? It's "stupid" in Japanese. That's the word I'd use to describe people in general. Stupid, mindless individuals that get led around by someone who realizes their simplicity.

I got this impression after 7th grade. Can you tell I don't have a social life? Yeah, well, after 7th grade, the social life I had was damned to hell.

So, finally, I get to go somewhere new - Gachen High in Kyoto, famous for their rich snobs and supposedly cute uniforms. Psh. I have no idea what current fashion is, so how would I know what's cute? But, I wasn't about to wear that skimpy uniform, and they didn't have a rule against it, so - I bought a boy's uniform.

You think I'm a tomboy? In some respects, I guess I am. I hate most things that girls like - dresses, short/tight clothing, makeup, perfume, lotion, jewelry, taking pictures, talking to your friends on the phone or online, dating, all that useless gunk. What do I like? Music and anime. Simple enough?

There's another reason I wanted to wear the boys' uniform. I didn't want to be just another average girl. I swear, I am just about the most average person on earth. At my old private school, I was exactly 13th out of 26 kids based on my height. Because my last name is Murasaki, I was still in the middle, last-name wise. Plus, my birthday is in the middle of the year - late June. There's absolutely NOTHING special about me, except maybe for the fact that I'm so average.


The alarm clock went off at 6:45 a.m., for once. I mean, that idiotic thing sometimes goes off at 2 a.m., or it doesn't ring at all. Cripes. I should really get a new clock.

I dressed and looked in the mirror. My black slacks and white button-up shirt were loose and airy, so it was pretty comfortable. Buying the boy's uniform already had an advantage. I've cross-dressed plenty of times at my old school - but so did several other girls. I guess I'm the only one who hasn't kicked the habit. It's not so bad, my parents can still tell I'm female.

As I tied my medium length hair (see, even my hair length is average!) back in a low ponytail and put on my glasses, the person in the mirror slowly became, well, more boyish. I could very well be just another long-haired male. The thought of it was funny at the time, and quite honestly, I laughed at the ludicrous idea of it happening. I grabbed my jacket and my book bag, then went downstairs.


7:30 a.m. Gachen High I sat in a seat near the window. After hearing and reading so much about Japan's sakura (cherry blossoms), I wasn't about to pass up a chance to see them, even though I would have to wait till spring. I'm not Japanese at all, even though my name is. My parents are Korean and Chinese, but they thought that I should have a more Japanese-sounding name if I was to live here. How thoughtful of them. I do NOT look Japanese in the least, but both of my parents speak the language, so they agreed to move here so they could pursue business opportunities and let me continue studying. For what, though? I don't seem to excel at anything. And my family's not rich, so I don't get some big corporation to take over and run. How average can you get? We're not poor enough to get government help, but we can't afford a house with 3 bedrooms. Yeesh.

The teacher walked in just as the bell ring, and the talking around me slowly settled down. Disinterested, I glanced at the elderly man. Cripes. Thank God I was wearing pants; he looked like one of those perverted old men who liked to look up the skirts of high school girls. And man, were those skirts short! I could see the underwear of some girls from behind them.

"Ahem," coughed the sensei (teacher). I looked up at him again. "I am, ahem, Oburo-sensei, and I want you to, ahem, come up and introduce yourselves." I raised an eyebrow and glanced around the room - no one looked surprised, and I guess most of them had been together last year as freshmen.

"Ahem. Atsuko Tanaka!"

A busty girl stood up and pranced to the front of the room. She began to chat about herself in a high pitched, nasal tone. Inwardly, I sighed as I rolled my eyes. Did every school have these annoying bitches? My eyes fell on the teacher - he was staring at Atsuko, not her face, but her, ahem, chests. Cripes, what a pervert. I hope 1st period isn't my homeroom.

Oburo-sensei continued calling the students' names, and as I predicted, about half of them went up before it was my turn. ("Ahem! Murasaki Ritsu!")

I got up and walked to the front of the class. As I opened my mouth to say, "Watashi ("I" for girls), I decided to change my sentence. "Boku wa Murasaki Ritsu," I said. I was slightly surprised at myself - I had just spoken like a boy, but I went with it anyway. "I like music and anime." I went back to my seat. As I did so, I heard some girls whispering and giggling, and one guy said, "Jeez, a chibi otaku! (Short anime fan)" I sighed again and laid my head down on my desk, staring out the window. I watched a single cherry blossom float past the window, fluttering and turning before it landed on the window sill. "Odd," I thought. I didn't know sakura trees blossomed in September -

*BANG!!* The door whipped open, and a panting young man came in. The first thing that caught my attention was his vividly colored orange hair. Cripes, the things people were doing to their hair these days.

"Oi, Oburo-sensei!" he called, striding over to a desk. "Sorry 'bout that, I got.caught up." For some reason, this seemed to amuse most of the other students as they burst out laughing. "Yo, Hi-RO!" called the other guys as they high-fived him. Popular - that was the word that described him.

"Who'd you beat up today?" one boy asked. Before Hiro could answer, the girls in the class chanted, "One, two, three! HIRO-KUN WE LOVE YOU!!!" Hiro turned and gave them a brief wink, making them squeal, thereby destroying the rest of my eardrums.

"Oh my GOD, isn't Hiro he cutest?!" "And the coolest!" "Not to mention the nicest!" "Hey, he smiled at me!!" "I'm gonna faint, he's so HOT!"

My. Head. Hurts.

"Ahem! Ahem! Hiro-kun, for the sake of, ahem, tradition, would you come up please?" coughed out Oburo-sensei. Evidently, he wasn't very pleased with Hiro catching the attention of the girls in the class.

He smirked, then strode to the board and wrote his name out. "Hey, Namura Hiro here, 16 years old! Nice to meet you!" I noticed, amidst all the squealing, that his eyes were the same vivid orange as his hair. Talk about freaks. Not only did he dye his hair orange, but he got orange contacts, too?

The rest of the class passed by in a relative blur. Oburo-sensei was perverted and boring. Cripes. What a day this was gonna be.


Author's note: Yay, my first fic ever! I would really appreciate any comments, even flames. (well.maybe not flames. XD) Please r&r, it's really what makes writers happy!