Chapter Text
Mizuki sat on his father's lap, reaching for the sweets on the table in front of him. No matter how far he reached, he couldn't quite nab them. With a small determined pout, he lunged straight for them.
His head rammed right into the edge of the table. Pain wobbled through his brain. Tears quickly flew; he could only slightly hear his dad chastising him through the ringing in his ears. When the noise subsided, and the tears cleared, he saw his dad waving beads over him, muttering phrases he couldn't understand.
His father stopped, wiped the tears from his cheeks. "We are not a lucky family, Mizuki. You have to remember that."
Like most days, Mizuki woke with no preamble. Freed from the grogginess of sleep, he simply smacked his alarm off and stumbled into his small bathroom to shower and brush his teeth. He considered putting his prosthestic arm on now to get it out of the way, but eschewed it in favor of shuffling off to the kamidama nestled against the living room wall.
By now, it was a mindless, rote action. Something that eased the tension in Mizuki's shoulders and relieved the swelling of his paranoia. He stepped onto the stool to reach the tiny porcelain bowls, grabbing them to rinse and replace the contents. Water, rice, salt. Three simple things that offered him the salvation he craved.
A glance at a nearby clock showed he was on track to be on time, if he hurried and got his prosthetic on and finished packing his bag. Mizuki groaned. As much as the replacement for his missing arm was nice, he did not love the ache it caused, nor the chafing from the strap that looped around his chest. He made a mental note to give himself the night off from having an arm as he went through the motions of attaching it as fast he could.
Mizuki booked it down the several flights of stairs that he always qualified as his daily exercise, if only to have something good to report about his health to Toshiro. He'd only rolled his ankle down them once—the one day he forgot to change out the stale water in front of his shrine. He grimaced at the thought. Ever since, he'd been very diligent about his routine.
As soon as he breached the front doors of his complex, he made a beeline for his banged-up bike. Several lucky bracelets wrapped around the handles, all attached after he had eaten dirt in a ditch—the result of swerving to avoid hitting a cat. Mizuki rubbed his thumb against the ones on the right handle. They looked a bit worn. He'd have to get Kiri to send some more.
Mizuki pulled on his helmet. It was dark green, painted and slightly carved to resemble a kappa. When Nobuto had presented him with it alongside his own matching tanuki helmet, he had pretended to only like it a slight amount. In reality, it had been and remained the greatest gift he had ever received. A small ache of loneliness panged in his chest as he pedaled through the streets.
Going to college here was a great opportunity—beyond great, really. People like him didn't often get chances like this. An almost full ride to a solid school in a program he was very happy with, even if he never spoke to his classmates and his teachers only knew his name, not his face. What wasn't covered by scholarships and grants, Toshiro had kindly covered. Mizuki thought of ways to repay that debt daily.
After flipping off two cars that were blocking the bike lane and swerving out of the way of several misguided pedestrians, Mizuki arrived on campus. He had managed to get most of his classes online this semester, but one particularly troublesome class had slipped through. Through no fault but his own and many repetitions of "I've got time", he was short on a few core classes. As such, he was currently heading into a section of campus he had never had reason to visit prior: the Arts Center. To attend a wood sculpting class.
He briefly considered stuffing his prosthetic into his bag and wondering what the professor would do when he walked in with one arm.
After a few wrong turns in the big, cavernous halls, Mizuki finally found the right room. He pat the omamori attached to his necklace three times, then slipped it under his collar. Upon entering, one thing became very obvious: this was a very small class. The room was big enough, sure, but there were only four groups of two tables, each saddled with two stools. He wavered for only a second before quickly heading to a table close to the door. Nobody else was at that one yet, while the others all had at least one occupant, each nervously scrolling on their phones or fiddling with a pen.
He remembered being that anxious. Poor underclassmen. The professor had seemed decent according to the reviews he saw. She was dressed casually with big cateye glasses; her hair was greying at the roots, giving her a salt-and-pepper look. In Mizuki's experience, the kind-looking ones were usually fifty-fifty on actually being nice.
"Can I sit here?" a voice broke Mizuki out of his thoughts. He didn't bother to glance up before mumbling a 'yea'.
"Thanks."
The guy sat down. Mizuki peered at him from his periphery. Nervous looking like all the rest, and definitely not dressed for a 9 am sculpture class. He wore a sleeveless tank tucked into sweatpants, a gym bag hanging off his arm until he dumped it on the floor. A vague whiff of sweat reached Mizuki. Fuck, man. He didn't wanna be stuck next to the sweaty gym bro all term.
Mizuki patted the omamori against his chest and internally prayed that the guy would either drop the class, or that he didn't subscribe to the informal assigned seats that everyone usually stuck to.
He watched the clock as it inched towards 9:00. As soon as the hand tripped twelve, the professor stood and cleared her throat. Punctuality was nice, but it put a hamper in any plans of sleeping in.
The professor launched quickly into an overview of the syllabus, as expected. He listened, but he was more interested in the reactions of those around him. Specifically the guy next to him, who was earnestly taking notes on what the professor was saying. Which was just the syllabus. That they've had for a week now. They even had the option to turn in a quick quiz about it for extra credit.
Curiously, the guy had also written his name and date at the top of the page. Wuyang, as it were, was particularly organized.
Mizuki pried his eyes off of Wuyang's notes in favor of once again paying attention to the professor. The slide clicked over, and he frowned. Icebreakers.
"We'll go around the class and introduce ourselves. Please say your name, your major, and one thing you hope to learn this year, in any class."
Mizuki's mind blanked as soon as she finished speaking. He completely missed what the first person said, only caught half of the next, and then began to panic about having something to say in time, since the size of the class was so small and they were quickly moving along. Something he was excited to learn about.
Wuyang cleared his throat. Oh, no. Mizuki hadn't realized just how quickly they were moving. "I'm Wuyang, I'm majoring in Biology—Biochemistry, specifically. Uh, I'm actually excited for this class the most, since I like to work with my hands. So I guess I'm excited to learn anything about sculpting." With a half-smile, Wuyang finished, and then his eyes moved to stare at Mizuki, along with the rest of the class.
Mizuki awkwardly held eye contact with Wuyang for a moment, caught off guard. Wuyang looked nervous, his smile wavering. Mizuki finally looked up at the professor.
"'Sup, I'm Mizuki. Majoring in folklore & mythology, in the Japanese track. Doing a self study on shintoism this semester, so that's cool."
A couple of people behind him went, and then it was back to the professor. He wouldn't describe himself as particularly socially anxious, but he preferred to not talk. In general. He'd have to be back home with Kiri and his friends in order to feel comfortable yapping.
The professor went over a few more topics, then announced one last thing. Throughout the semester, they'd be working in pairs. The same partner all fifteen weeks. The person sitting next to you. Mizuki glanced at Wuyang, who was also looking at him. They both quickly looked away.
"Now, since add/drop doesn't end until next week, we won't be working on anything partner related until after that date. Our next few classes will instead be focused on fundamentals," the professor adjusted her glasses and clasped her hands together. "With that, you all are free to go. Feel free to reach out about any questions you might have."
Mizuki began gathering his things, hoping to get out before—
"Um," came from Wuyang. "Should we like, exchange numbers?"
Mizuki turned to look at him, already halfway out of his seat. "Why? You're not gonna drop?"
"I kind of just said this was the class I was most looking forward to, so no."
Mizuki deadpanned. Yeah, he had just said that, huh. "Well," he shuffled until he was fully out of his chair, then fetched his phone from his pocket. "Here."
Wuyang took his phone, gingerly tapping in his information. He expected Wuyang to hand him his, but once Wuyang returned his phone, he simply sat staring at Mizuki.
"Uh," Mizuki drawled. "You gonna give me yours, or?"
Wuyang straightened up like a cat taken by surprise. He scrambled to get his phone, a faint blush on his face as he unlocked it and handed it over. His phone had a little charm hanging from it: it was a cute little monkey with a surfboard. Mizuki resisted the urge to fiddle with it as he typed in "Mizuki K." along with his number.
"There you go," he handed it back. "Bye, now."
Mizuki turned to leave, speeding off as he heard Wuyang's faint bye-bye in response. There was really only one thing going through his mind as he prepared for the trek home: Fuuuuuck.