Late on the First Day

Through the swaying leaves of the spring season, I darted my way into my first class. I swung the sliding door to the class open with a single motion. Surprised eyes were focused on my delinquency as I walked inside the room. I felt my anxiety knock my sides and jab my chest from the students observing me.

“Apologies. I am a bit late.” I spoke.

I was late for my first class as an exchange student in Tokyo, Japan. I was extremely fortunate in my endeavors - the ability to study in Japan for my final year of education was a dream of mine. To boot, the prestigious University of Tokyo was the first to answer my call, like a knight in shining armor. The university had given me a bursary to study for the entire year. They had also appointed me a room to stay in, free of charge. I was more than thankful for the once in a lifetime opportunity, I knew not to waste the chance I had been given. I recall the endless questions my father had for me when I told him the news:

“Why?” was the most pertinent.

In all honesty, I still do not know why I was so adamant on staying in Tokyo. I taught myself to speak Japanese in Highschool and wrote Kanji within a year of self-studies. Somehow, my subconscious persuaded me to study myself to near death so that one day I could be in Japan. I wondered why, but it was too late to ask any other questions, as I was already late for my very first class in Japan.

“That’s the gaijin?” I could hear from murmurs within the class.

Mounds of eyes lasered on my location as I walked in a thirty-minutes late. I wondered if smiling would be the best practice to show my regret. In the front of the classroom, the lecturer with a bald spot atop his head, eyed me as I walked in. He sighed and spoke with utter disdain.

“I assume you are the gaijin exchange-student, no?” The lecturer asked, inspecting my appearance.

“I am. My apologies for being late, lecturer.” I replied with a bow of my head.

The lecturer scoffed, shooing me to find an open seat.

“Don’t be late to my class again foreigner,” The lecturer stated, “Or else you’ll be out of my class by next week.”

I knew he was just doing his job, he wanted to ensure the entire class was tardy for their final year of schooling. Yet, I could tell why he was going bald - stress was bad for a person’s hair. I scanned the classroom, searching for an empty seat. There was but one seat available for me, in the furthest row at the back of the lecture room, next to a man who was fast asleep on the desk. I cursed my cellphone for not being loud enough that morning, and I walked towards the empty seat. I could hear mutterings from other classmates as I walked by; I could overhear some of them commenting on my perfect Japanese pronunciations even though I was a gaijin. Others mocked me, calling me a delinquent. My first impressions at a new university were already in the gutter.

I took a seat next to the orange-haired boy, I could see him fast asleep, muttering nonsense in his dreaming state. I attempted to disregard his nuisances as the lecturer continued with his lesson. Not even five minutes passed, then I was disturbed again. The orange-hair boy placed his hand on top of mine. I attempted to shake his hand off my own, to no luck. The orange haired boy then softly moaned in his sleep beside me:

“Yes mommy~” The boy mumbled.

Drool slid out the sides of his mouth as he smiled in his sleep. I could feel myself want to puke. I pleaded to the gods, ‘WHY? Have I not suffered enough?”. I could not place any concentration on the lecturer below. so I decided to prod the bear, and pinched the boy’s nose to wake him up. He awoke with a sullen look in his eyes, drool falling down his mouth:

“Good morning…” He said, half-awoken.

“You’re making a noise in your sleep, I can’t concentrate.” I said sternly.

“Who cares, this lecturer is boooring~” He mumbled.

The boy slowly drifted back to sleep. I would not take his nonsense, and pinched his nose again, he jittered awake again.

“What’s with you? Waking me up from the best dream?” He asked.

I shook my head at the boy’s foolishness.

“Sleep in your bed, not in class.” I replied.

“It’s too noisy back at home.”

“Not my problem. Go find somewhere else to sleep then, just not next to me in class.”

The boy chuckled, then reached within his jacket pocket. He pulled out small objects in hand, placing a handful of yen-coins in my palm.

“Here’s payment for my insolences, master.” He said, drifting off back to sleep.

I could feel a tick of anger rise from my brow. Then, the lecturer below yelled at us:

“Mister Gaijin, I see you and Mister Hayakawa are having a lovely conversation. However, we are in class right now, and I have already begun the lecture.” The lecturer exclaimed.

The class murmured once again. I could feel embarrassment shoot through my ears. I looked at the boy next to me, and he hid himself in his arms, pretending to be asleep.

“My apologies.” I spoke to the lecturer.

“As an apology, would you like to answer my question?” He asked me.

“Uh-”

Before I could decline, he asked me:

“Do you know what the most important factor within the microenvironmental-business world is?” The lecturer questioned me.

I was dumbfounded from the question and decided to embrace the embarrassment for not knowing the answer. I stood like a baby caught doing a crime, unable to answer for its crimes against humanity. My arms began shaking uncontrollably, but not from fear or embarrassment, rather from my injuries in high school. I held my arm in an attempt to qualm the uncontrollable shaking. Then, the lecturer spoke:

“Miss Ishihara, your hand is raised, would you like to answer?” He asked.

I turned to see a girl in a wheelchair beside me. She had dark-green hair with red highlights tied into two buns. Her black-frame glasses sat atop her small nose. She eyed the lecturer with her violet eyes. Her frame was small, fragile, and pale from I assumed a lack of sunlight.

“The most important factor in the microenvironment in organization, organization allows ease of categorization and prioritization for determining effectiveness of other factors in the micro-world.” The girl spoke. The lecturer clasped his hands together, happy with the answer given to him.

“Precisely! That’s the answer I wanted from you, Mister foreigner.” He said, returning to his lecture.

“Yes, sir.” I said, shaking in my shoes.

I sat down with bright read ears, steam fuming from my sockets. I caressed my arm, hoping the shaking would stop. I then turned to the girl on my right, and spoke quietly:

“Thank you.” I whispered, bowing my head in shame.

“Pay attention next time.” She replied.

“Sorry.” I apologized.

I could hear a snickering coming from my left side, the boy with the orange hair giggled away. He winked, and handed me another yen-coin.

“Pay attention next time, Gaijin.” He giggled softly.

My blood boiled, it was his fault.

“I’m going to make you pay.” I threatened him.

“Don’t need your money. I’m rich.” He said, yawning.

“I didn’t mean-”

“Shut up and pay attention.” The girl said again, cutting me off.

She took a second to look at me with deadly eyes, then continued writing away in her notebook. The orange haired boy went back to sleep, covering the entirety of the desk in front of me with his arms. I looked again at the girl in the wheelchair, and she threw me deadly side-eyes as she attempted to pay attention in class.

‘She looks very familiar to me… Have I seen her before?’ I asked myself.

I knew from then on, my life was in for a turbulent year. A year filled with an idiot and a rude-but cute girl. I hoped to not meet any other charismatic characters in later down the road, I wanted peace in my life.

Peace was not going to comfort me, at all.

The encounter I had with that girl was about to turn my life back to my past; a past I had forgotten about.