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Exceed did not like school.
L - the white haired one, not the one that looked like dad - had sent them to school in Japan. This was at the request of their other, deader, parent, who they could not remember. Yet they looked fondly upon A, who had written such nice things for them. Supposedly, both their dad and the other one had decided that they wanted Exceed to be educated in Japan, if possible. L seemed dead set on this idea, and had explained it to them in great detail.
Mr Roger was not to be told that the other L had sent Exceed to Japan. They were meant to be learning from L firsthand. Yet L said that it was more important to fulfill their father’s wishes. Just don't tell anyone, and we'll be alright. But that was okay, Exceed was good at lying to Roger. Everything about this would be fine, except for the fact that Exceed had never been to school before.
Exceed had decided they did not like school at all. L had told the staff there that Exceed hadn't been able to attend school due to illness, or something like that, and thus needed to be in middle school despite being almost seventeen already. The school had accepted, but only after L had paid for their new gymnasium. Thus, with new documentation and an apartment bought for them, Exceed had been sent to Japan; and by extension, a real school for the first time ever.
The acceptance of the staff did not mean acceptance from the students, however. Exceed - or Ryuzaki Etsumi, as they'd been called for the sake of school - was often the subject of whispers and stares. Not that anyone had called them Ryuzaki, no, to the general population they were the foreigner or hafu. They weren't stupid, and Exceed spoke Japanese fluently, but nobody seemed to care about that.
They had called L, after their first day, and demanded he bring them to America so they could study to be his successor. They'd told him - Exceed did not like school. And what had L, the impassive and cruel creature he was, said? “Give it a month. Consider it a test of your resolve, if that makes you feel better. If you still hate it by May, I'll bring you back to New York.”
Then he'd hung up. Bastard.
So they were stuck here for at least a month. May as well make the most of it, right? Exceed sighed as they straightened the jacket of their gakuran, expression deeply unpleasant. Younger children at the House had complained to the staff that they looked scary when they were in thought. Did they really? Exceed wasn't sure.
They sat at their desk, conveniently marked with their name. It was a little scratched, presumably from anxious students of the past, but it had been polished during cleaning time yesterday.
The chairs in this school were atrocious. Hard-backed, stiff monstrosities. They missed their swivel chair in their apartment, what was the point in trying to make someone sit still for so long? What was so wrong with spinning as they worked? Whatever. Whatever. Exceed would grit their teeth and bare it, to prove how worthy they were. This would show L.
Idle chatter filled the classroom, which was, at least, not so different from the House. Other children gathered around desks in clusters of three or five. Names and numbers mingled together, they closed their eyes. Exceed didn't want to know. They didn't want to know how long these children had to live, if their time at Wammy's was indicative, it was never enough. Maybe ten or twenty years at most.
Peace, Exceed, peace. It wasn't the worst thing they'd ever done. The classes, if yesterday and this morning had been indicative, were going to be easy, at least. They were a genius. The successor to L, they could handle an awful month with a bunch of teenagers. And so, Exceed allowed Ryuzaki Etsumi to slip into a vague sense of calm.
It didn't last.
Someone was whispering something. And not doing a very good job at it. They tried to ignore it, but the voice was becoming more insistent. So Exceed listened, first to the sound of it. Lilting, almost, most likely female - though it could be a late blooming male too - it was quiet enough to not break the chatter, but loud enough to be heard. Coming from behind them, southeast. Presumably the second desk back on their right.
“Tanaka-San, Tanaka-San,” the voice whispered. But it wasn't exactly a whisper. The speaker was not making enough of an effort for it to be. “Psst, hey, Tanaka-San, Tanaka-San,”
Tanaka. They wanted the attention of a Tanaka. Exceed opened their eyes and kept their head facing straight. This would make for a good reasoning exercise, they supposed. Couldn't have their analysis growing dull. Then, they glanced in their peripheral, searching for a set of kanji that could possibly mean… there!
田中実, 98.643.440. Floating over the head of the boy on their left with the undercut. That was Tanaka, it had to be. Tanaka Minoru, unless it was pronounced differently. Though with such a simple looking name, Exceed doubted it. Yet, what did the person sat behind them (they didn't dare look to check who) want with this random boy?
They kept saying it, too. Definitely female, Exceed decided. “Tanaka-San, yoo-hoo, Tanaka, can you hear me?”
There must be something particularly fascinating about this boy, then, since his peers wanted his attention. So they began to pay more attention to this Tanaka than the other names and numbers out of the corner of their eye.
First: he was wearing headphones. It wasn't technically a lesson, being the lunch period. But Exceed was fairly sure you weren't supposed to be on your phone during this time, hence why Tanaka seemed to have tucked his into his sleeve. Shouldn't be wearing wired headphones with that strategy, though. They thought, idly.
Second: he sat alone. Most of the students had congregated in little groups around desks. Their lunch time was used for socialising, and eating. Yet Tanaka's desk, next to theirs, was solitary. They were alike in that regard, they supposed. Nobody had bothered to approach him this whole period. Exceed would have thought that the girl whispering his name across the classroom would have approached him in person, by now. It was obvious he couldn't hear her.
Finally: the way he carried himself. To the casual observer, Tanaka seemed perfectly at ease. But then, Exceed looked closer. His jaw was clenched ever so slightly; his chopsticks missing the rice in his bowl in favor of stabbing the inner plastic; and his grip on them was far too tight for productive eating. So, what was bothering him?
What was currently bothering Exceed (minus the chair from hell) was the fact that this girl behind them would not shut up.
“Tanaka-San, Tanaka-San, Tanaka-San,” and Tanaka's fingers curled even tighter around his chopsticks. So he could, in fact, hear her.
Oh. It seemed they had the same problem, then.
Why wasn't he doing anything about it, then? Was he afraid? It was more irritating than it was intimidating. Perhaps Tanaka was trying not to let it bother him - yes, that seemed closer to the correct conclusion. They would need more data to prove it, of course, but it felt right in Exceed's heart.
“Tanaka-San, Tanaka-San,” she repeated, insistently. Then, the direction of the voice changed, the sound of fabric shuffling. Talking to her friends? “Jeez, he's deaf or something. Hey! Tanaka!”
Exceed pressed their lips into a thin line. Out of the corner of their eye, they saw Tanaka do the same. And-
Out of the corner of their eye, they saw Tanaka watching them. Watching Exceed watch him. How long had he been doing that?
He didn't seem to plan to do anything about it. But he looked at them, their eyes met - 田中実, 98.643.440 - and then he looked away. Exceed breathed in, breathed out. Slow. Careful. Measured. It would not do to be rash, they were only going to be here a month, this was only for L and-
Fuck it.
“Is something wrong?” Ryuzaki Etsumi tilted around on their chair, smiling amicably at the group of girls stood around the desk behind them. The second desk behind them on their right. Good, their ears weren't going dull. There were four of them, and Exceed glanced at their heads.
高山蒼歌, 68.790.827, 二宮然和, 112.920.78, 岡元操恵, 32.448.514, 岩月朝凪, 23.362.920.
“Um…” the girl who had been calling for Tanaka - Ninomiya Sawa, the name above her head and on her desk read - seemed to freeze up, and she shifted. Her face said nothing less than why is the foreigner talking to me. “No, thank you.”
“We're good.” one of the other girls - maybe that name should read as Okamoto? - nodded at them, pursing her lips. She didn't know where to put her hands, seemingly.
“Fantastic. Because I don't appreciate having my lunch disturbed.” they said, keeping their voice light, but icy. With a special type of bite they used when speaking to staff from the House. “Have a nice lunch, won't you?”
The sentiment was echoed back at Ryuzaki, empty words. Exceed turned around, and went back to their soup. It was good, actually. Vaguely, they could remember their dad preparing something like it. It tasted almost familiar. But not quite.
Exceed tried not to think about their dad too much, not in public. It had the unfortunate side effect of making them feel very small, in a world of big creatures.
They took another spoonful to distract themself. The annoying noise had stopped now, but the chair was still their greatest grievance of the hour. They would just have to try and ignore it, but that was easier said than done. Exceed needed a distraction, to prevent them from downright scowling at the bowl. At their reflection in the spoon, with the words Exceed Birthday floating over their head.
A piece of paper slipped onto their desk from their left. It was torn at the edges, straight out of a notebook, if the lines meant anything. They turned it over, inspecting it cautiously. The handwriting on it was fairly neat, yet the slight wobble of the lines indicated that the writer had held their pen so tightly their hand shook.
Thanks. It read, in hiragana.
They glanced back at Tanaka, who was pointedly avoiding eye contact with them. Etsumi’s lip twitched slightly, almost smiling. The pen was in their hand before they knew it. You're welcome, they wrote back, in kanji. And they pushed it back onto his desk.
The shock on Tanaka's face was delightful. He looked almost clownish in terms of bewilderment, his brown eyes bulged just a little. If life were a cartoon, that would have been a comedic relief scene.
“You can read and write in kanji?” he asked, practically demanded, turning in his chair to look at them. His headphones snagged on the corner of the desk, pulling oddly, and one earbud fell out of one of his ears.
They tried not to let out a snort. That would probably be offensive. “Yes, I can, I’ve been speaking Japanese since I was old enough to speak.”
Tanaka gawked at them, before remembering to close his mouth. Exceed bit back a laugh, they didn't laugh. They were quiet, calm, composed, and proper. They did, however, let out a little amused huff. To indulge themself.
“What do you think hafu means?” Ryuzaki said to him, drumming their fingers against the plastic of their lunch tray. Oh, that was a nice texture. So the chairs were evil but the plastic trays were nice. Small victories. “I'm half Japanese. I go to school here. Of course I know the language.”
He shifted for a moment, leaning his face on his hand. He looked forwards for a few moments. Then, Tanaka sighed, seeming relieved by their words. “That's good.”
“Oh? Why's that?”
This conversation was going to go either really well, or very badly, depending on what he said next.
Tanaka turned to them yet again, and said, very seriously. “Because I'm atrocious at English.”
Exceed couldn't help it. They let out a little snort, that was half a laugh and half a noise of surprise. On sheer instinct alone, they slapped their hand over their mouth and felt their cheeks burn. What the hell was that, Exceed?!
No, it was fine. Fine. It hadn't been a proper laugh. They could recover from this gracefully, and without drawing too much attention to themself. So they removed their hand from their mouth, and raised an eyebrow at him. “How atrocious, would you say?”
The response was that Tanaka bent down to his bag, fished around in it for a few seconds, then pulled out a piece of paper. He handed it to them wordlessly.
28 points out of 100. Yikes.
“Wow.” they said, looking down at the paper, then back to him, then at the paper again. They tried not to laugh. Apparently it was wrong to mock others for not being good at what Exceed was good at. “Never go to England, Tanaka-San. You'd hate having to ask for directions.”
“Is that where you're from, then?” he asked, tilting his head. Tanaka reached for the test, and they let him take it without complaint. They nodded, so he continued. “Must be culture shock, coming here. English schools seem really different on TV."
Exceed shrugged, missing the feeling of their hair brushing against the back of their neck. Their fingers twitched. They'd been instructed to tie it up, which was weird. “I've never been to real school before. So, in all honesty, it wouldn't have mattered if my school was Japanese or English.”
“I'm surprised they didn't make you cut it.” Tanaka observed, following their gaze to their hair. “Though I guess they made an exception, because you're foreign.”
“And because my…” Mentor? They were pretty sure most teenagers didn't have a mentor. Not acceptable to say, okay, come up with a cover story, quick! “Cousin paid the school a lot of money to take me. So I would assume they care less.”
His eyebrows raised so far that they were hidden by his hair. It was an interesting look on him, to say the least. “Is that why we're getting a new gym?”
“Probably.” Exceed picked up their milk carton and took a few sips. “He wanted me to come here, so here I am.”
“And do you like it here?”
What could they even say to that? Yesterday I called L and demanded he bring me back to America because I don't like school, it's strange, I don't know anyone here, it reminds me too much of my dad, there are too many rules, and-
“I hate the chairs.” Exceed said, because it was the first thing they could truly think of. They did. It had been bothering them since yesterday. “Why are they built like that? They feel horrible, I can't focus.”
Tanaka blinked, once, twice. Then, he nodded emphatically. His expression shifted to complete exasperation and understanding. “Finally, I'm not the only one! Why are the chairs made like this? I miss my bed.”
“I miss my swivel chair.” they frowned to themself, thinking about their nice chair. Exceed leaned their hands on their chin. They'd had that chair moved from England to Japan for a reason. If chairs could be sent from heaven, that chair was.
“I never do anything at a desk, if I can help it.”
“A sensible decision, really.” L did most of his work on the floor, after all. And Exceed did theirs with a laptop and a book to lean paper on. “Though I bet the teachers won't appreciate the way it makes your handwriting look.”
“Eh, do it on the wall and they don't notice.”
It was a random conversation. Stupid, really. Not like the conversation at Wammy's, where every word was to be carefully weighed up and used as a weapon. The fifth and sixth generations were, supposedly, crueler than the earlier ones. They shouldn't have enjoyed it.
And yet, Exceed found themself almost smiling as Tanaka detailed how to do homework on a wall. Their fingernails tapped against their plastic tray, and he wound his fingers around his headphone wire.
They talked for the rest of lunch.
Exceed wasn't sure how they'd ended up in a nearby playground after school. They had intended to go straight back to the apartment L had given them, but they lived in the same direction. One thing had led to another and now they were staring at the empty playground. If Tanaka intended to kill them, this was probably a good place to do it. Serial murderers usually take their potential victims to a second location, lure them in by acting helpless, distressed or injured, and then…
They glanced at him: Tanaka was sat on the swings, tiptoes brushing the ground. Don't be stupid. I don't think he's the killing type. There was a slightly conniving air to him, one that they couldn't tell if they'd made up or not, but he didn't seem the type to murder them, or anyone.
Then again, neither had their dad. Until he had killed three people.
“Do you come here a lot?” a good idea was to get him talking, so that they wouldn't have to make conversation unless they had something to contribute.
“Usually,” Tanaka was swinging slowly. Not letting his feet leave the ground, yet moving forwards then backwards. It was a strange motion, one that caught Exceed’s eye over the numbers above his head. “It's quiet after school, ‘cause everyone else is at after school clubs.”
There were many clubs at their new school - sports, gardening, calligraphy, art… none of them sounded particularly interesting. Too many people. Exceed decided they were going to sit on the swing next to him. They liked swings. The motion was vaguely similar to a swivel chair's. They clutched at the chains holding the swing up, observing the warmth of the day through them.
“And you don't go to any clubs at all?”
“Don't see the point.”
Neither do I. “Why not?”
He shrugged to himself, his tiptoes brushing off the ground for a moment to swing idly. There was something idle about the way Tanaka held himself. Like a character in an anime, maybe. He seemed so unrealistically still, until they looked closer, and noticed all the shifting. The miniscule twitches of eyelashes, the shifting of fingers against whatever he was holding. The curve of his neck.
“I guess I just don't see the point. It's not like anyone in those clubs wants to talk to me anyway, and I don't want to talk to them.”
They paused, letting their feet still against the ground. “But you're talking to me.”
“Yeah,” Tanaka tilted his head back, fingers curling around the metal that kept him suspended. “I'm not sure why, honestly.”
Exceed was quiet, at that. Because what could they say, really? They'd never really bothered talking to anyone at the House unless they'd had to.
They finally settled on: “You were looking at me.”
“Hm?”
“At lunch. You were looking at me.” Most people didn't bother with looking at Exceed. They looked at everyone else, but nobody made eye contact.
He raised his eyebrow. Or at least, seemed to. It was hard to tell from the angle they were looking at him at, and his bangs concealed a lot of his smaller expressions. “You were looking at me first, Ryuzaki-San,”
“Well…” Touché, Tanaka. “You weren't supposed to see. Me looking at you, that is.”
“That's stalkerish of you.”
“I'm not a stalker.” Just a detective. Which, in fairness, had a semi significant overlap.
He grinned, a flicker of what seemed to be amusement in his gaze. “You could be.”
“But I'm not.”
“Which is what a stalker would say, obviously.”
“Did you hit your head yesterday?” Exceed scoffed, though they weren't nearly as offended as they may have seemed.
Tanaka blinked, once. Twice. Thrice. That was an interesting pattern. Three, Exceed liked three, it was a good number. One and three, thirteen, add another three and get sixteen, their age. “You know, I'm pretty sure I fell off the swings yesterday, actually.”
Pretty sure? It was such an odd expression. Exceed wasn't sure how someone could be fairly sure of anything. You either knew something, or you didn't.
“How can you be pretty sure that you fell off the swings? Do you not remember falling?”
“No, I remember the falling part, I just don't remember why.” he did that unusual blinking pattern again, Exceed it counted out in their head. One, two, three. “I think something spooked me. Probably a bat or something.”
“Maybe you got a concussion when you fell.” they suggested, amused by the idea.
“My head does ache, actually, but I'm not sure if that's a bruise or the pleasure of your company.”
“Charming. Is this why you sit alone at lunch?”
“Oh, probably. But I have music, so it's not a big deal.”
“What do you listen to?” they paused, before adding dryly. “You will be judged on this, just so you know.”
Tanaka was quiet for a few moments. Actually, for quite a while. Then, he spoke, almost reluctantly. “...Avril Lavigne?”
Exceed didn't laugh, they had better self control than that. But they did press their lips into a line and felt their shoulders shake a little bit as they suppressed their surprise and amusement. That actually made sense, in an odd way.
“You like Avril Lavigne?”
“Yeah, so?” Borderline defensive, he sounded.
They let out a little hum. Exceed tilted their head to look at him. They'd spent a lot of time in 2013 listening to that type of music, being in the midst of a phase. Though 2013 hadn't been the best year for them in general. “Which album do you like better, Let Go or The Best Damn Thing?”
Tanaka brightened. Visibly brightened. God, if someone could look more delighted than that, Exceed would love to see it. “Oh, I like Let Go more. But Girlfriend got stuck in my head for like, a month, when I was a kid.”
“Basic.” they said, but without any bite to it. “How very basic of you.”
He let go of the swing to wave a hand. “I never said I was interesting,”
“You act like it.”
“Hey, thanks!”
That… hadn't been intended as a compliment, but looking back on it, that was their mistake. Exceed felt oddly light. This conversation had been utterly pointless, yet they felt fulfilled. They had gained absolutely no leverage over Tanaka, because he didn't seem to care what others thought of him.
His bag, set apart at a distance from the swings, began to vibrate. Aggressively. They looked at him, and tilted their head just a little to the right. Tanaka had the good grace to look embarrassed at the interruption and moved off the swing to his bag. “Ah, that'll be my mom, gimme a sec.”
So Exceed waited. They weren't sure why. They could walk away right now and he'd be too busy talking to his mother to notice. But instead, they let their eyes drift around the empty playground. It wasn't in the best condition in the world, but it was still very clean, compared to pictures of most places they'd seen around the world.
Then again, most of the pictures they saw were of crime scenes. Exceed began to map out the playground in their mind, for potential future reference.
A seesaw, blue; a roundabout, lighter blue; one of those odd structures you were meant to climb on (but only if you were under a certain size), shaped like a castle; a slide, yellow; a winged shadow on the ground…
Exceed blinked. What?
There was definitely a shadow on the ground. Large, larger than even the tallest member of staff at Wammy's. They'd estimate it at over seven foot tall. Vaguely humanoid in shape, if they considered the two lengths at the bottom to be legs. Except it seemed to have wings, large wings that spread out across the floor of the playground. A winged, invisible beast.
What the fuck.
They turned to grab Tanaka's attention, but by the time they looked back, the shadow was gone. Oh. That happened sometimes. Sometimes people would have two shadows, one human, and one… not. It was just a side effect of the numbers, they thought. Or maybe they'd made it up.
Tanaka turned back to them, smiling. It didn't seem to be a smile of joy, perhaps sheepishness? Yes, that felt right. “My mom wants me home. I have chores to do. But, uh, this was fun."
Fun.
Was that that strange feeling in their chest? Was this what it was like to… have fun? Exceed had always imagined that fun was not fun without a corpse and clues being involved. And yet, with those words, it felt right. Sometimes things did just feel right.
“So… I'll see you at school, then,”
They were quiet. Until they weren't.
“Would you like my phone number?”
As it turned out, he would.