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For as long as you can remember, you were never a very talkative child. Your parents—although you wouldn't go so far as to say they were absent—weren't the most emotionally available. You spent most of your early childhood playing with beige toys by yourself, while your parents were off making something, doing something else, or in a whole other country.

If you could describe your adolescence in one word, you would have to call it lonely.

You had no siblings to talk to, no pets, or any friends. You spent your days alone, only accompanied by your thoughts.

You were also homeschooled, free from the internet all your life and often, you would look out your window to try to catch a glimpse of other kids your age. When you were younger, you would wish to be one of those kids, to be able to run around in the grass and get yourself dirty (because your mother had an extreme, uncanny fear of anything dirty, you weren't allowed outside often). But despite this, you didn't hold anything against your parents. It was more of you wishing you were somebody else than hating your life.

As you grew older and more mature, your wishes to be one of those free children let loose faded to nothing, and you became perfectly content with spending your life alone. You learned to not talk much—if you weren't spoken to first or didn't have a reason to talk to a person, you simply believed there was no use in conversing.

Even if it sounded sad or depressing to others, it was reality to you, that wasting your breath on useless chatter wasn't your personality.

But, one fateful day, it was as if everything you had ever known was flipped upside down, with just one conversation.

Your mother had walked into your room, face as blank as always. She nodded at you, and you bowed your head respectfully. "Good morning. I have something to tell you."

"Good morning. What is it?" You place your pen down and turn around in your spinny chair to look at them.

"Your father and I will be going away for a while. You will be by yourself for a bit, so do try and take care of yourself."

"I will."

"Good." She says simply, folding her arms under her chest. "We will be leaving in a few days. Enrol yourself in a high school by next month."

You pause, staring at her incredulously. "A... high school?"

"Yes. You are entering a new stage in your life next year, and I believe going to high school is an important part of your development as a person." Your mother places a paper down on your desk, before walking away, heels clicking on your floor. "I trust you will make a good decision. You've always been smart."

She walks out, closing the door behind her.

You picked up the paper and saw it was an enrollment form for high school. It already had all your details filled out, and the only thing missing was the school you were applying to. You quickly searched online for schools in your area, dismissing a few that were rated badly and seemed to have mostly delinquents.

There were a few nice ones you looked at. Aoba Johsai High—a nice-looking private school for elite people. However, despite its beautiful appearance, you clicked off the website, shaking your head.

An even more prestigious school—the best and most expensive one in your area—Shiratorizawa Academy. It had dorms, and every club you could think of, and its main priority was helping its students graduate to be their best selves.

You were interested in this school. You were sure you would've chosen this school—if not for the fact you accidentally clicked off on some random website with the title of Karasuni High. It was a public school with a very high acceptance rate and low ratings.

Despite the big warning signs that this school immediately presented, you were intrigued. The rest of the schools showed their students as proper, prim and formal—faces laughably serious and looking as if they were held at gunpoint.

But the pictures of the students at Karasuno all seemed so happy. In every picture, you could see the genuine happiness in the students, and maybe, you didn't make the best option in writing down Karasuno High in your application form.

Maybe it was your younger self doing the writing—the young child in you still wishing to be one of those free kids who were let loose. Maybe you let yourself get swept up in your feelings because before you knew it, your bag was slung over your shoulder and you were standing at the gates of the school.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

You were new to public schools—and since you had homeschooled your whole life—you didn't know how to make friends, or even talk to others your age. Despite your excellence in school, your parents had failed to teach you the basics of social interaction—something which you did resent them for.

So, because of this, you found yourself spending your break time either sitting somewhere alone or walking through the halls to try and entertain yourself. While you were walking through the halls one time, you saw something that caught your eye.

They were all in a room, writing down something. Their hands were moving so fast they looked blurry. It fascinated you. How could someone write that fast? So, simply out of curiosity, you looked around to see an application form.

Many looked like they were signed, but very poorly. The handwriting on most of them looked messy, and on one, for their reason to join, it said that they just wanted to skip class and go to cool places.

It disappointed you. The people in there showed so much passion—so much enthusiasm for what they were doing and others only wanted to join these passionate people to skip class. So, you grabbed one and went into an empty class. You wrote down what it asked and filed some information about yourself. Then, you slipped it back and walked away, not really thinking much of it.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

After your classes, you slipped your shoes into your locker and packed up your books, slamming your locker shut and slung your bag over your shoulder. The sun was already setting and you wished to get home before it was too dark.

But, despite these wishes, it seemed that life had other plans for you, because, as soon as you turned around on your heel—ready to walk home—there was a loud noise that made you snap your head around.

"WAIT!" A screech rings out, and a tall girl is running at you with her jacket tied around her waist, flying behind her. Your eyes widen, and she stops herself narrowly from crashing into you by sliding on the heels of her shoes. "Gimme—gimme a sec..."

She rests her hands on her thighs, chest rising and falling heavily as she catches her breath. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, she raises her head and smiles widely at you, and only now you get a good look at her face. "You're L/N, right?! You signed up for the newspaper club!"

That was the club's name? "Yes, I did."

"Great! I asked around, so..." She brushed off her skirt and flipped her hair—albeit it didn't really move—and placed a hand on your shoulder. "You're in, newbie! Welcome!"

You pursed your lips, looking to the side but bowed your head, "Okay. Thank you."

"Don't mention it!" Her lashes fell into a wink. She hummed, then placed a finger on her chin. "Hey, you busy? If not, how about we get you to meet the others? They were pretty excited when they saw your application!"

You clutch the straps of your bag a little tighter, shuffling your feet on the floor. Within 10 minutes, you had more social interaction than the entire first three days of the year. She... is like a bright star, you couldn't help but think, staring at her with your lips slightly parted.

You did want to get home. You wanted to get home before it got too dark, at least, but you couldn't find it within yourself to say no to this bright woman.

"... Okay."

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Over your first year, you and this girl, with dark skin, a wide grin, and bright eyes, who was named Chiyo, grew much closer. Your dynamic, with how standoffish you were as a first-year, and how boisterous she was as a third-year, was surely strange, but somehow, you two made it work.

It seemed like it went by far too quickly—and before you knew it, you were standing before your closest friend, holding up her certificate with a bright grin. She ran down, grabbing onto and shaking your shoulders, eyes twinkling.

"Don't worry, L/N! I'll be here to read each and every one of your papers, even if I don't go here anymore! I know you're going to do big things—because you're amazing!"

Your heart squeezes, and your nose scrunched up at the unfamiliar feelings. You didn't know what you were feeling. You were happy that your friend could go on into another important stage in her life, but you were now alone again.

"I totally know what you're thinking, L/N." Chiyo snaps you out of your thoughts, and you stare at her incredulously. "You're thinking that you're going to be alone again without me—your best friend—here, right? Well, you're not! You know why?"

She gestures to the rest of the club and your clubmates hugging another one of your third-year graduates. "Because you got them here with you! I know you're not really close to them—but it can never hurt to try. Even if none of it works out... at least you can proudly say that you tried your hardest!"

A snort escapes your mouth, and you slap your palm over your lips in response, staring at her bashful smile. "Okay... Chiyo-san." You nod.

"Aw, come on! Can't you just smile for once? I mean, you've never even laughed at a joke before!" She pulls the corner of her mouth out into a smile, and she nudges you. "See?"

You pulled up the corner of your lips forcefully, and it looked incredibly awkward, scary and lop-sided. She laughed nervously, patting your shoulder. "Aha... you'll... get it one day." Unexpectedly, she grabbed your shoulders and pulled you into a hug, resting her head on your shoulders. You froze up, hands halfway in the air and eyes wide.

"Goodbye, L/N."

You slowly pat her back, fingers twitching as they rest on her clothes. "Goodbye, Chiyo."

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Often, with the absence of your closest acquaintance, you would hang out with other members when they locked you out, and you weren't allowed in for the rest of the day because you quote, spend more time in there than with them. On those days, you would usually walk home with them after school had finished.

Eventually, as the year started to come to a close, and the third-years were looking forward to their graduation, one topic was brought up

Momo—a girl in your year—sipped on her jelly drink, "Okay, so I know we've all been thinking this... who's going to be the president when Saiyi-chan graduates?"

"No way it'll be you," Minoko—another second-year girl—shakes her head. "You fall asleep in basically every meeting.

"I think... Waisha-san should do it! She's super reliable and nice to us." Yumiko, Minoko's younger sister, said with a grin. Minoko smacked her, rolling her eyes.

"You idiot, Waisha-san's going to leave the club next year. She's gonna join the art club, remember? Or did you not listen to her heartfelt speech?"

"U-Uh...It wasn't that heartfelt, Himi-"

"No, it's okay, Waisha-san, I know how stupid she is." Minoko cut off the grey-haired girl, glaring daggers at her little sister.

"Idiot! You're the stupid one!" Yumiko got up in her face, scowling.

"You have shitty comebacks!"

"You have a shitty face!"

Soon, their bickering turned into full-out fighting, grabbing at each other's hair and scratching the other with their nails. You walked out of the convenience store, holding an ice cream cone while staring blankly at the two of them.

You walk forward, and—passing your ice cream to Waisha, who is refusing to look at them—you pick them both up by their collars and pull them apart forcefully. They stare at you incredulously, feed dangling above the floor as you hold them over your head.

"Can you stop? This is ridiculous. How immature can you be?"

They faltered, deflating like a balloon and avoiding looking at you like a child who was put in timeout. "Yes, L/N... sorry..." They said in unison.

"Good." You drop them, and they land on their ass, cursing.

Momo spoke up, her smile widening. "Hey, how about L/N for president? She's totally cool-headed and helps our upperclassmen prepare everything already! I mean, she's basically our senior! And she's totally a good face for our front cover!"

Are you really that shallow?

"Hey, that's a good idea!" Waisha perked up, smiling at you. "You're like Saiyi-chan, if she was emotionless!"

"Good idea." Minoko nod her head, placing a finger on her chin. "L/N, I have a suggestion. For your first act of president, it should be that elder siblings can tell their younger siblings to do whatever they want and the younger can't say no."

"You're a trash human, you know that?"

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Since you had first started your third year, you found that there was one girl who had always stood out to you. She was very short, had thick lenses in her rounded glasses and was always apologising and tripping over her own feet. She looked dorky, but seemed passionate—something you noted when looking at her application form for your club.

You saw her changing her shoes in her locker in the morning, and—with the paper in your hand—you tapped her on the shoulder and winced when she physically jumped.

"Oh..." She recognised you, eyes widening behind the frames and her cheeks growing pink.

"You are... F/LN, yes?"

Her mouth fell wide open and yet there was no sound coming out. You asked her again. "Are you F/LN?"

She bowed deeply, creating a perfect angle as she squeaked out, "U—Uh, yes! I'm F/LN, ma'am!"

"Please don't call me ma'am." You shake your head, and she apoligises profusely. "It's no big deal. Your application to the newspaper club is nice, and I came by to let you know that you were accepted."

However, the girl had only heated up more at that, steam coming out of her ears and her pupils dilating. "I—I'm happy that you think so! You're very pretty!"

It didn't seem like she meant to say that—her first sentence having nothing to do with what you said—and her second being impulsive thoughts, probably. It was no problem, you just needed to handle this carefully. You couldn't scare her off now. "Thank you. You're quite cute too."

She fell over backwards, face cherry red, and you could only stand and stare into the distance as people surrounded you two, wondering what it is you did to break the little first-year.

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