"Hello, um, Nayami Ayanami…" Her eyes shifted high and low, awkwardly ebullient in all sense possible for a newcomer. She couldn't look straight at us. "It's my name. I came from Takarajima. Uh…Koyomi High School. Pwah! I mean… I mean, Koyo- Koyomi Methodolo─!"
She bit her tongue.
Miss Ayanami, with all her reservations, looked at us─shaking, unable to stop. Eyes cuing disappointment from trying too hard. Why so nervous: did something good happen to her? I chuckled─as I could not contain a misconstrued thought.
Cute.
"Calm down, Nayami. You can do it."
Our homeroom teacher, our dearly exhausted and loving Naru, embellished a bated breath. Hand smacking Miss Ayanami's shoulder caught her surprised. Feeling all her senses heighten that she could almost cough. Instead, she swallowed her fear.
Our brown-haired owl, as I'd ingrain in my headcanon, attempted to calm herself.
And─tried again.
"I…"
Water trickled from her forehead─intermingling with that highly nervous tone.
Her guise, the feeling of dread, the crowd felt the dread, and what could only be left is an existential awkwardness between the class and her.
Aligning with all of us─the watchful Mind Club.
"My name is Nayami Ayanami, a scholar from Takarajima…Uh, I came from Koyomi Methodological Magic Institute. M-my magic rank is Apex… uh, no, Mythmaker! Nice to meet you, Class 3-A!"
After swinging her head down, and bounced back─she huffed a long sigh.
Great, that introduction wasn't too shabby.
6 out of 10 for being pure.
I thought of such when for everyone else, they exchanged looks.
All suddenly bugged by her strange words, unable to resist supposition.
"…Huh?"
Confusion ignited─like dry leaves on a midsummer forest.
"She said what?"
"Whoa, easy there…an S Rank Mage?"
"Maybe she meant to say Haymaker?"
"Pfft! Like autocorrect failure or something?"
"You know she clearly said Mythmaker, right?"
"Where'd Haymaker even come from?"
"…It's a punch."
"Hah! That's got to be a joke. She looks like she can't even cast a spark rune."
"You got a point. I've never seen an S Ranker this timid before."
"You mean to say that only arrogant mages can be S Rankers?"
"No! It wasn't what I said. She doesn't just look the part."
"Shh! Guys, we have another Mythmaker in the room."
So came a rush of silence.
Whose eyes, their eyes─distraught, troubled, bouncing back and forth among themselves.
To the transfer student─who was stealing glances at me.
To the homeroom teacher─who was looking at her.
To me─who looked at everything and nothing, all at once.
"Hey, Shiro…You know something about this?"
I huffed a sign.
All hell broke loose.
Noise.
And─more noise.
"Is she telling the truth, Miss Narukami?"
"Naru!"
"Miss Narukami, what is going on?"
"Sensei, answer us!"
Mentality has united, as the group happened to strongly connect, it took everyone to a creepy vacation to hell and back.
"Miss Ayanami…are you really a Mythmaker?"
She flinched, caught by surprise from the uncouth, zealous questions judging her power status. And our instructor could only let out one glorious, "There's a time and place for everything, idiots."
"Aww, come on!"
"Silence, it's class time.
Uniqueness withheld in her presence, attention being poured won't be stopped.
Peril is already guaranteed to knock at her door─and whether it is inescapable or not relies wholly from probability theory.
I've seen the situation before.
Hence, someone drenched in cold sweat is simply a common occurrence.
Cast aside and unanswered, I can only vouch an influx of curiosity weaving out and about. She stood upright, unmoved, pressured as though under siege. Poor girl, her thoughts may have spiraled in convolution.
And not once were she protected by her six liminal guardians.
Schadenfreude, as frightening as Snow White's personal lens had focused on the matter, there's never a dull moment. I'd like to give myself a leeway over incoming excursions. I don't care what the problem has in stores for everyone else.
Pointlessness takes precedence.
Nothing ever comes exquisite to people who take everything serious into utter seriousness.
So, let's look at the problem from a different interpretation.
On occasions like this, I'd like to spend my sweet time basking in the beauty of my newly assigned classmate.
If being human is her sin, I'd forgive her.
She might be one of those uncalled for people one can easily be forgiven for war crimes. I mean, she's in the fluffy department, accentuating her brown hair to her petite frame. Physically, Miss Ayanami's someone you can find in a cute music anime. She plays the guitar, and likes bread on a certain pathological range.
First impressions really are powerful.
Boy oh boy, I'm being forced to see her in an image created out of sheer delusion and sloppy judgment. Looking at the bright side, she's such a sweet change in our classroom filled with familiar faces. These people don't get the point at all.
What's pleasant about her was her chestnut bob hair. This sight could burn into my retina and I don't give a damn if it's stays. She's got such beautiful and serene cuticles, how immensely enviable.
Meanwhile, I get super irritating bed hairs.
I feel like investing for my hair to grow was nothing but futile.
Although hers was short, the vibrancy just showed it was damning for my male head to maintain such health.
It definitely is a girly problem but to be blunt here, I'm jealous.
What if Nayami Ayanami had long hair?
Now, I'd kill just to bask in its beauty.
"Tch. Kill yourself."
"Shiro, why don't you keep your thoughts just for yourself for once?" And so, the contemptuous turn of events ensued.
"What in the actual fuck is with your bed hairs?!" From the seat before mine, Kafka Ikari furiously debated.
"It's not like your hair looks like a bird's nest or something."
And for another, Tsukuyomi Kyoukaisenjou, from the seat apart, spewed his utmost appreciation of the prized asset a true Mythmaker would always protect.
"...Just so you know, I am jealous of your hair too. It's not something you'd want to worry about, though," I retaliated, our eyes met in playfulness.
"No, no, I mean it! Rapunzel looks only subpar compared to you."
I took notice of my bangs and pulled it down until it passed my jaw. "C'mon, please don't use your lip service on me. I'll tell you now, you're uncut for the conning industry."
"Shut up, Shiro!"
"Stop agreeing with him, Yomi!"
United in freakish unison, the class reprimanded─all synchronized as if handily crafted to antagonize their immediate antagonist.
"Seriously, each and everyone of you?" I looked at Yomi and immediately corrected, "Not you, of course…"
I suppose everyone's lively today.
"You really do like yourself boiled alive huh, Shiro?" Naru, our lovely homeroom teacher called, not hiding any fury in her eyes─seething in disappointment as though I ruined the mood. "Uh-huh, you think so? You really helped me calm these clowns down."
Heh. Guess I'll take that as appreciation—so, thanks?
"Yeah? But at the cost of you being the annoying one."
Quit reading my mind.
Miss Narukami clicked her tongue and marched down the aisle.
Heels struck the floor, slowly, rhythmic without the desire for art.
Her shadow loomed over my desk.
"Then speak with your mouth!"
The whole room flinched.
I raised a hand. "How are you doin', bro!"
"You think you're funny, Shiro?" the rather sagacious teacher chimed.
I leaned back with a half-grin, tapping my temple. "I'm not a good judge of comedy," I said with a shrug, "Better consult Mister Nakagawa-kei for that."
She narrowed her eyes, sighing through her nose. "Okay… Because you're such a sorry excuse of a magic being, I have a small task to give you."
I crossed my index fingers—half joke, half warding charm.
"No, I refuse to guide her in town."
"I haven't said anything yet."
Ignoring her protest, I looked upon the eyes of our cutely bizarre transfer student.
"Those eyes know this city better than I do."