In Which We Are Watched

In Which We Are Watched
Girl From Another World
First Love, Again?

I jerk back from the window—too fast. The chair clatters out from under me, crashing to the floor, and the room falls silent.

I scramble up to my feet to give another quick peek outside. It can’t be. Not yet. Not so soon.

“Hey, Iko-” Someone begins, but I do my best half-sprint out of the room, heart racing like I’d already run a marathon.

I can still feel the eyes on me. He must’ve seen me… right? Was it him? It was, wasn’t it? I begin to slow as I catch my breath. I run around for a moment, not sure where I’m going. I toy with the girl’s toilet, hiding in a closet, a different classroom… Maybe I could grab my bike. Get out of school. Get home. Get out of the damn country.

It feels like there’s a cold blade slicing down my spine as I lurch forward. My head is pounding, though I’m not sure if that’s from the shock of seeing those eyes in a place outside my dreams, or from collision with the hard wooden floor.

I lean against a wall, breathing sharply.

❀ ✿ ❀ ✿ ❀

It always starts this way. He’s a hunter, and I’m his prey.

The yellow eyes make their first appearance. It’s a deliberate display. It means he’s onto me, he’s coming.

A voice calls to me, saying something in a language I don’t understand.

“Are you okay?” The voice comes again. The source is a boy, Takeru. Tall, with a well built body that’s athletic, classic swimmer’s build, as you’d expect for the captain of the swim team. He stands out in school like a… standing-out thing… my head hurts.

“I need… nurse.” I mumble. He looks at me for a moment before punching his palm, and taking my arm over his back he begins to move with me, slowly walking across the distance.

Slowly, tentatively, the pair of us make our awkward way to the nurse. The door opens to the sterile room, with clean white sheets stretched over the beds in the corner. He helps me to a chair, but there’s no sign of the nurse.

As I look around, trying to get my bearings, he starts looking around for what’s available for student use, eventually settling on an ice pack that he presses to the side of my head. I should’ve leaned away, told him I don’t need it… but maybe I just wanted to believe that someone could help, even if just for a moment. I hold the ice pack to my aching head. The chill calms the ache, the sterile and soft quiet of the room calming my nerves. Takeru is the sorta guy who makes you feel kinda insignificant; cool, but not brash. The epitome of sportsmanship, at least if you listen to his ever-growing fanclub. But come to think of it… was Takeru in my class? I’ve not been the most observant, but I’d definitely have noticed him. He’s basically the prince of the school, the popular, good-looking type. There’s no way that he doesn’t make the whole class revolve around him.

“Just put a poultice on it, that’ll do.” I mumble the words halfheartedly, remembering a previous life as I do, working as a nurse. Takeru gives a small laugh.

“Huh? A poultice? You act like such a granny sometimes.”

I blush and look away. Crap. Nothing good comes of telling people my plight. In the old days, they’d call me a witch and burn me at the stake, today they’d lock me up. I’ve got to act like a modern Japanese high school girl, or else it’s gonna be impossible to get away from… The Wolf.

“Just something my granny said.”
“Didn’t you say you didn’t have a granny?” Crap. Who remembers something like that? Is he keeping a file on me or something? I can vaguely recall mentioning it near the start of the year, maybe?

“Oh... probably. Uh, my head hurts so I was just…” I begin. He looks me in the eye, and I look away.
“I was just… lying to avoid further questions.” I reply. CRAP. There’s no point in protecting my reputation now anyway. If the popular kid decides to tell everyone about it, I only have a month here anyway. But instead of judgement, or mocking, or, hell, even storming off, he gives a small laugh.

“You know, Yamada-san, you’re kinda… unique. You never pay attention in class, but you still do alright in exams. You don't really socialize, but you don't give an anti-social aura. You act like you’re from another world.”

“Huh?” I look up, startled.

“Like there’s a part of you that’s distant… it’s kinda weird, though, because to me you’re as Japanese as they come. And yet…” He frowns, then shrugs.

“Well. It is what it is. I’m glad we got the chance to talk.” He finishes with a smile.

“Why’s that?” I say, sharply. My mind is racing, a mess from the last ten minutes, and I really don't have time for mysterious mind games.

“Well, ‘cause you’re kinda cool, y’know?”

Me… cool?

❀ ✿ ❀ ✿ ❀

By the time I’m back in the classroom, there’s a dozen different rumours as to what just happened. From I was knocked out cold, to throwing up on myself. Chiyo gives me a nervous glance as I enter, and I welcome the reassuring eye contact before she returns to her phone, her shoulders sagging as tension leaves them.

Takeru moves into the seat in front of me. How did I never notice that before? His shoulders are broad, and strain against his white shirt as he moves. Typical athlete’s body. When people ask what happened, he just brushes it off, saying he took me to the nurse but I was alright, that I just had a bad fall, that I was okay and everything was fine. It was no big deal.

Honestly, it helped. After a few minutes of chatting, some of them even smiled at me. It was kinda awe-inspiring how well he gathered people to him and got their respect. I’d never noticed before, not really.

The class settles down, and I exchange some meaningful eye contact with Chiyo, enough to let me know that the bridge isn’t completely burned. That’s another weight off my heart, which feels weird, because it shouldn’t matter to me anyway.

At the end of the day, I hurriedly begin packing my things. I don’t want to hang around, even if The Wolf isn’t going to attack until the last moment, I know that I don’t want to be around people more than I should. Gives him the opportunity to sneak up in a crowd, a knife in the dark.

“You doing alright Yamada-san?”
“Call me Mariko.” I say, the formality getting to me a little. He looks at me with surprise- oh, crap. Amongst all the panic, the past lives resurging into my mind’s eye, I forgot we’re in Japan. First names are only used for family, close friends, and-

“Okay… Mariko.”
Lovers.