— gravity ain't an excuse [o]

[IRIA OTONASHI]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,10,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; padding: 5px, bTable][cs=2][style=background-color: #2d2d2d; height: 40px; padding: 7px; width: 400px; float: right; border-radius: 50px 0 0 50px;][style=background-color: #1f1f1f; border-radius: 50px 0 0 50px; height: 40px;] [style=font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 25px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 3px; font-weight: 100!important; text-align: right;]KNOCK OUT, GAME OVER[/style][style=font-family: courier new; text-align: right; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 4px;]WATCHING AS YOU FALL TO THE GROUND[/style][/style][/style]

[style=background-color: #2d2d2d; padding: 8px; width: 240px; margin-left: 3px; border-radius: 15px 0 0 15px;][style=background-color: #1f1f1f; padding: 5px; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; border-radius: 10px 0 0 10px;][style=font-family: arial narrow; color: #166deb; font-size: 50px; float: left; margin-right: 5px; font-weight: 100!important;]S[/style]urprisingly enough, the reason Iria Otonashi hated tests had absolutely nothing to do with her knowledge — or, as was more often the case, her lack thereof — on the topics being tested. She was the sort of student who was eager to learn and eager to apply knowledge; speaking only of the humanities, she was a bright enough pupil to breeze through most of her classes without trying. Nevertheless, Iria loathed tests with all her being. It had nothing to do with whether or not she could answer the questions asked, nothing to do with how her pencil lead regularly snapped as she penciled in her answers, nothing to do with the distracting sniffles and coughs that punctuated the silence of the classroom. That was all bearable. But this... this essay. Following the death of Ieyasu in 1616, Hidetada worked to strengthen the power of the Tokugawa shogunate, taking such measures as marrying his daughter Masako to the emperor Go-Mizunoo... Her fingers were cramping. The muscles in her wrists were unused to this kind of cruel and unusual punishment. There was a throbbing pain in a joint of her thumb she previously didn't even know about. If she didn't put this pencil down within the next five minutes she would surely end up somehow disabled. But. She had to continue writing. She was determined to see her essay through to the end. ...the result being that the reign of the Tokugawa shogunate was the longest of Japan's three bakufu... It wasn't as though she'd written a particularly long essay. By all standards it was relatively modest. The boy in the row before hers had written an essay at least three times the length of her own, and a girl in the back row had asked for extra paper no less than twice already. Iria's essay was not particularly short, but it at least deserved a proper conclusion before she gave up. It was a perfectly ordinary essay for a perfectly ordinary test for a perfectly ordinary student. Two more minutes on the clock. She had almost written through an entire shaft of lead. In a truly competitive spirit, she selfishly hoped that everyone that had written long essays had somehow gotten off-topic and hadn't actually written effective arguments. The avid, familiar wish of every student in the room, no doubt. And, hastily — with the half-dead hope of a sailor who had at last spotted land — Iria wrote her concluding sentence. ...yet the fall of the Tokugawa dynasty set the stage for Japan's Meiji Restoration, ensuring prosperity after the Western revolution to come. "Phewwwwww..." She let out a long and barely audible sigh of relief. Victory. Glorious, glorious victory. Ah, the classroom had never looked so beautiful as in the moment when she had finally pulled out of the darkness at last. Screw essays. Screw essays straight to hell. And, because she was in such a dulled, exhausted, insensitive state of mind — Iria Otonashi threw down her pencil. With all the force she could muster. Iria Otonashi, the perfectly ordinary student — Crack. In true disrespect to the laws of physics, the pencil flew like a dart to the surface of the desk and embedded its point there. To put it in a less obnoxious turn of phrase, Iria Otonashi had just made a hole in her desk. With the strength that was utterly useless in everyday life. "...oops." [/style][/style][style=font-family: courier new; font-size: 10px; text-align: center;]TEMPLATE BY JOHN OF OTE[/style]

[atrb=vAlign,top][style=background-color: #2d2d2d; padding: 8px; width: 125px; border-radius: 15px 0 0 15px;][style=background-color: #1f1f1f; padding: 5px; border-radius: 10px 0 0 10px;] [style=margin-bottom: 5px;][/style][style=background-color: #2d2d2d; color: #166deb; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 2px;]TAGS[/style][style=font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; margin-left: 5px; margin-top: 3px; margin-bottom: 5px; text-transform: lowercase;]anyone in school![/style][style=background-color: #2d2d2d; color: #166deb; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 2px;]WORDS[/style][style=font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; margin-left: 5px; margin-top: 3px; margin-bottom: 5px;]570[/style][style=background-color: #2d2d2d; color: #166deb; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 2px;]NOTES[/style][style=font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; margin-left: 5px; margin-top: 3px; margin-bottom: 5px; text-transform: lowercase;]lmao what am i doing. gonna get in trouble -- ![/style] [/style][/style]

[SHOKICHI RIHITO]

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[atrb=width,450][atrb=style,padding-left: 10px;][atrb=valign,bottom] ♚ one motive: cater to the hollow tagged: iria otonashi

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[atrb=width,400][atrb=style,border-left: 1px dashed #EF6710; padding: 0px 5px 10px 10px;] When Sho had taken his first glance at the essay prompt, the entirety of his being had balked. Or rather, it wasn't really that the prompt itself bothered him—rather, it was the fact that he had to write an essay in the first place. Long minutes of half-assed minute studying had gotten him far enough to manage coherent, adequately sized responses to the majority of the questions on the test, but just the thought of scrawling down an entire composition in the span of remaining time he had left... No, the idea certainly did not appeal to him by any stretch of imagination. But then he took another glance at the question and realized that the essay was, in fact, worth almost as much as all of the other sections of the test combined. 'Well, fuck,' he mused blandly, pencil shifting slightly in his twitching fingers as he contemplated whether or not he could just throw caution to the wind and forgo the essay altogether, points be damned. Then he remembered the ban his parents had instituted on Pocky because of his dropping grades, and then a peculiar determination lit up in his eyes and burned—within seconds, he was scrawling just as furiously as the next person, fishing through his mental repository of information in an attempt to locate all the facts he needed to write a legitimate essay. Ten minutes into the essay portion, he barely knew what he was writing about anymore, but he struggled to keep his thoughts in order and promptly delivered fact after fact to the paper. Ordinarily, his kanji would be neat, organized—a stark contrast against his innate laziness, which insinuated a messier style. For once, he was actually adhering, albeit without trying, to the insinuation, and it showed in the disorganized strokes of the characters he was penciling down onto the thin lines of paper. When the teacher finally called time, he was on his second-to-last sentence, and, in a twist of spite, the tip of his pencil snapped. He stared blankly at it, debating over whether it was worth the hassle to hastily scribble a few last things down with this...broken pencil tip...or simply suck it up and declare himself done. After a brief moment of contemplation, Sho could feel the ever-present waves of his laziness crash down upon him—and so he folded to its demands and set his pencil down, tipping his chair backwards as he heaved a sigh and balanced in that position, an apathetic expression settling upon the contours of his face as he distracted himself by tipping the chair to and fro. It was only when he heard the distinct sound of something embedding itself into wood that he paused, letting the chair sag, the front two legs coming down upon the ground with a soft thud. Sho glanced at the girl next to him, blinking at the mechanical pencil that was standing straight up on her desk—or rather, held vertically in place by the desk because it was physically stuck. "Damn," he commented with a low snicker, attention half-focused on the mechanical pencil and half-focused on the teacher, who had only just stood to start collecting the tests, "that's some strength. What'd the desk do to you?" He nodded in the direction of the writing utensil and, by association, the hole it had formed, mildly amused with the point that the teacher had yet to notice the most recent damage that had been inflicted on school property. THIS TEMPLATE HAS BEEN CODED BY CRUX STRICTLY FOR PERSONAL USE ♚

[IRIA OTONASHI]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,10,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; padding: 5px, bTable][cs=2][style=background-color: #2d2d2d; height: 40px; padding: 7px; width: 400px; float: right; border-radius: 50px 0 0 50px;][style=background-color: #1f1f1f; border-radius: 50px 0 0 50px; height: 40px;] [style=font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 25px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 3px; font-weight: 100!important; text-align: right;]KNOCK OUT, GAME OVER[/style][style=font-family: courier new; text-align: right; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 4px;]WATCHING AS YOU FALL TO THE GROUND[/style][/style][/style]

[style=background-color: #2d2d2d; padding: 8px; width: 240px; margin-left: 3px; border-radius: 15px 0 0 15px;][style=background-color: #1f1f1f; padding: 5px; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; border-radius: 10px 0 0 10px;][style=font-family: arial narrow; color: #166deb; font-size: 50px; float: left; margin-right: 5px; font-weight: 100!important;]T[/style]he word 'mortified' would not have even begun to describe the full gravity of Iria's feelings on the situation. Embarrassed was one thing — the snickering of the boy next to her certainly contributed to that — but there was a certain edge of panic running through her adolescent mind that the word 'mortified' did not normally encompass. What had the desk done to her, exactly? "I didn't — this was — this is —" She sputtered incoherently, her eyes flickering back and forth between the classmate laughing at her and the teacher going down the rows. Hopeless. Utterly hopeless. A terrible, no-good, very bad no-way-out situation. "Accident," she managed eventually, wrenching the pencil out from its position in the desk just as easily as she'd brought it in. That seemed like the only natural course of action. Harder to notice a hole than it was to notice a pencil sticking out of a hole, after all. But then what? Now what? "Pass up your papers, please," the teacher intoned, casually contributing to Iria Otonashi's midday crisis. The hole in the desk was small enough. She preferred a relatively slim 0.5 lead pencil with a diameter of a little less than one-fourth of an inch, so the "desk wound" that had formed was about the same size. But a large crack ran from the center of the hole to the edge of the desk. This was not the sort of thing she could conceal merely by placing her pencil or eraser on top of it. She chewed on her lip nervously. And then — like a bolt from the blue — an idea struck her. An idea born from the genius that occasionally comes with utter desperation, from the phenomenon that Rupert Sheldrake once called "morphic field resonance." From deus ex machina, the god from the machine. With the swiftness of an alley cat, Iria reached for her schoolbag and opened the front pocket where she kept several daily necessities: a small notepad, several bandages, an extra hair tie, and a pack of Kleenex. This latter object she took out, opened, and extracted two tissues from; putting the pack away, she unfolded the tissues and crumpled them haphazardly to give the impression that she, like many of the other sick students, had used them during the test. Then she put them over the crack in the desk, turned to take the essay papers from the students behind her, shuffled them all into one neat pile and folded her hands innocently. Meanwhile, the teacher was berating another student, blissfully unaware of the deception that had taken place. "I said, pencils down..." "Safe," Iria breathed. For now. Ah, but she was neglecting something, wasn't she? Her gaze flickered again to the boy next to her. Shokichi Rihito. A silent plea. Don't say anything, don't say anything, don't say anything — [/style][/style][style=font-family: courier new; font-size: 10px; text-align: center;]TEMPLATE BY JOHN OF OTE[/style]

[atrb=vAlign,top][style=background-color: #2d2d2d; padding: 8px; width: 125px; border-radius: 15px 0 0 15px;][style=background-color: #1f1f1f; padding: 5px; border-radius: 10px 0 0 10px;] [style=margin-bottom: 5px;][/style][style=background-color: #2d2d2d; color: #166deb; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 2px;]TAGS[/style][style=font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; margin-left: 5px; margin-top: 3px; margin-bottom: 5px; text-transform: lowercase;]gogglehead[/style][style=background-color: #2d2d2d; color: #166deb; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 2px;]WORDS[/style][style=font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; margin-left: 5px; margin-top: 3px; margin-bottom: 5px;]470[/style][style=background-color: #2d2d2d; color: #166deb; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 2px;]NOTES[/style][style=font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; margin-left: 5px; margin-top: 3px; margin-bottom: 5px; text-transform: lowercase;]n/a[/style] [/style][/style]

[SHOKICHI RIHITO]

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[atrb=width,450][atrb=style,padding-left: 10px;][atrb=valign,bottom] ♚ one motive: cater to the hollow tagged: iria otonashi

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[atrb=width,400][atrb=style,border-left: 1px dashed #EF6710; padding: 0px 5px 10px 10px;] In all honesty, Sho didn't understand the girl's mortification, let alone her stuttering. Accidentally creating a hole in the desk was embarrassing, yes, but—no harm done, right? Or well, technically, there was harm, but it wasn't like anyone had gotten hurt, and it wasn't as if the desk was going to spontaneously combust or collapse as a result. The desk could withstand some damage, no problem. He had seen worse things than holes on desks in some classrooms, particularly the ones that contained older furniture. On more than one occasion, he had seen things literally etched into the wood of desks, usually small doodles and phrases. Sho could recall that there was one desk near the back of the literature room that housed tiny pencil etchings of mushrooms and slimes—a small voice in the back of his head informed him that they were from some kind of Korean MMO, if he recalled correctly. Then, in the English classroom, on the underside of a desk near the center of the room, there had been a quote written in shaky English with the beginnings of "to be or not to be, that is the question"; another part of his mind recognized it as a quote from an English play, but at that point, his memory faltered and recalled no more. Belatedly, he realized that for all he had ruminated on desk damage, what had been inflicted on the desk next to his was not a mere hole. There was a crack running along it that he had only just managed to notice. Well then. "Not sure if that's gonna work, but—pff, good luck," he managed between several last quiet snickers. He then paid no further attention to the girl beside him, dismissing the incident for what it was: an accident. Or at least, that was the plan. When she began fishing tissues out of her bag, crumpling them, and arranging them carefully on her desk, Shokichi watch her again out of the corner of his eye, interest mildly piqued, being that he had nothing better to do. It was that or lament the point that he hadn't actually finished his essay before, in spite of the speed at which he had written down the majority of his ideas. Once the girl had finished with her impromptu plan of covering up the crack, Sho glanced back at his own desk and his test paper, drumming the eraser of his pencil against the smooth wood of the former. The teacher had called for everyone to pass up the papers a while ago, but he was still focused on berating another student for having not set his pencil down. Speaking of which, the boy sitting behind him was still writing as well. Heaving a sigh as he waited for the guy to pass up his paper so he could pile his on top of his row's stack, Sho plucked at the fraying wood near the broken graphite at the tip of his pencil. Within moments, the teacher was soon irritably making his way toward his row. "How many times do I have to repeat myself?" he asked the student sitting behind Sho. 'Sucks to be him,' Sho mused idly as the boy finally passed up his paper, along with those of the students that had been sitting behind him. He threw his own paper on top haphazardly, earning a stern look from the teacher, who was still hovering nearby. Making a quiet 'pff' under his breath, Sho made a point of painstakingly straightening the pile as he threw a surreptitious glance at the girl beside him, Iria. With the teacher looming so close, he wondered if she would get caught. 'Or maybe not so safe,' he thought, recalling the girl's relieved breath. The thought of ratting her out didn't even cross his mind. 'Live and let live,' some part of his mind recited spontaneously, and he agreed wholeheartedly, even if it seemed out of context. Or so he thought. THIS TEMPLATE HAS BEEN CODED BY CRUX STRICTLY FOR PERSONAL USE ♚

[IRIA OTONASHI]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,10,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; padding: 5px, bTable][cs=2][style=background-color: #2d2d2d; height: 40px; padding: 7px; width: 400px; float: right; border-radius: 50px 0 0 50px;][style=background-color: #1f1f1f; border-radius: 50px 0 0 50px; height: 40px;] [style=font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 25px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 3px; font-weight: 100!important; text-align: right;]KNOCK OUT, GAME OVER[/style][style=font-family: courier new; text-align: right; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 4px;]WATCHING AS YOU FALL TO THE GROUND[/style][/style][/style]

[style=background-color: #2d2d2d; padding: 8px; width: 240px; margin-left: 3px; border-radius: 15px 0 0 15px;][style=background-color: #1f1f1f; padding: 5px; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; border-radius: 10px 0 0 10px;][style=font-family: arial narrow; color: #166deb; font-size: 50px; float: left; margin-right: 5px; font-weight: 100!important;]I[/style]ria held her breath and counted the time in heartbeats — on the mistaken assumption that said heartbeats were proceeding at their usual rate, and not in fact averaging about two per second. The teacher's nose was legendary; his temper even more so, and it was all she could do to stop her fingers from nervously trembling as she passed up the papers. The school's boxing champion, terrified by the prospect of after-school punishment. Nevertheless, the teacher passed without comment, evidently immune to the sight of crumpled white tissues because of his many years as an educator — like a mortician might be immune to the sight of white carnations, though infinitely less poetic. "Class dismissed," the man said dryly, collecting the last of the test papers. "You now have lunch. Remember to return in time for Ms. Fujishima's advanced algebra class." Phew. "Lunchtime, huh..." But the danger wasn't over yet. After all, once lunch passed, she would have to come back to the same seat, and any teacher would be able to see... As class slowly gathered its belongings, bracing itself for another school-provided meal (though to be fair, the meals at Namimori weren't too bad), Iria Otonashi lingered behind, slowly disposing of the scene of her crime. Put more bluntly, she threw the tissues away as soon as the teacher's back was turned, covered the hole with her hand, and — before Shokichi Rihito had left the room — caught his attention with a desperate hiss. "Hey." "In this classroom, who do you hate the most, and where do they sit?" [/style][/style][style=font-family: courier new; font-size: 10px; text-align: center;]TEMPLATE BY JOHN OF OTE[/style]

[atrb=vAlign,top][style=background-color: #2d2d2d; padding: 8px; width: 125px; border-radius: 15px 0 0 15px;][style=background-color: #1f1f1f; padding: 5px; border-radius: 10px 0 0 10px;] [style=margin-bottom: 5px;][/style][style=background-color: #2d2d2d; color: #166deb; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 2px;]TAGS[/style][style=font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; margin-left: 5px; margin-top: 3px; margin-bottom: 5px; text-transform: lowercase;]shoquiche[/style][style=background-color: #2d2d2d; color: #166deb; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 2px;]WORDS[/style][style=font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; margin-left: 5px; margin-top: 3px; margin-bottom: 5px;]230[/style][style=background-color: #2d2d2d; color: #166deb; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 2px;]NOTES[/style][style=font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; margin-left: 5px; margin-top: 3px; margin-bottom: 5px; text-transform: lowercase;]short post for short moment, aw yeah[/style] [/style][/style]

[SHOKICHI RIHITO]

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[atrb=width,450][atrb=style,padding-left: 10px;][atrb=valign,bottom] ♚ one motive: cater to the hollow tagged: iria otonashi

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[atrb=width,400][atrb=style,border-left: 1px dashed #EF6710; padding: 0px 5px 10px 10px;] After straightening the growing pile of test papers from his row, Shokichi casually reached forward to jab the student in front of him with the corner of the stack, earning an annoyed glance. Nonetheless, the other student relieved him of the pile, leaving him to sit back again and watch as the teacher swooped by to collect the remaining piles, blissfully unaware of the damage that Iria had inflicted on her desk. As the teacher finally dismissed them, Sho moved to stand up. Dear gawd, he did not want to think about the advanced algebra class after lunch—math had never been one of his fortes, and it showed, being that he was barely scraping a passing grade. Admittedly, part of the reason his grade sucked was because he had never really invested much effort in that class, but even the prospect of trying made him feel tired. Really, he just wanted to get to the rooftop and forget about classes for the brief span of time he had to himself for lunch. Packing his things with an uncharacteristic haste compared to his usual languid pace, Shokichi stuffed everything into his bag and swung it over his shoulder, Just as he was about to leave his seat, he heard a sound that could only be considered a hiss—interest piqued, he turned toward the source, pinning his black-haired classmate with a curious stare and raised eyebrow. "Who do I hate the most?" he parroted thoughtfully, taking a quick inventory of the people in the room. There was no particular person he hated; truth be told, he didn't actually know his classmates well enough to outright hate any of them. Heeding his aloofness, they had left him to his own devices, and he had enjoyed their respect for his intrinsic introversion. Nonetheless, there was a distinct line between those he hated and those who annoyed him. All things considered, he could always point out someone who annoyed him and let them take the fall. It was a tempting idea. Sho made a covert gesture in the direction of a desk near the back. He normally wasn't one to nurse grudges, but he had staked claim to that seat in the beginning of the year. All had been well until some girl had had the nerve to jack it come day three of the first semester. Totally unforgivable, considering he had liked that particular spot. Another swift survey of the room informed him that the girl in question was standing near the door, chatting with several female friends. "Takabe-san," he murmured, low enough for no one but Iria to overhear. "Jacked the seat I originally snagged first in the beginning of the year." It was a free opportunity to get back at her, so why not? "Sits in the corner, right over there. You gonna swap the desks or something?" Considering that most of the other students were filing out of the room now, Sho could actually picture Iria getting away with it. THIS TEMPLATE HAS BEEN CODED BY CRUX STRICTLY FOR PERSONAL USE ♚

[IRIA OTONASHI]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,10,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; padding: 5px, bTable][cs=2][style=background-color: #2d2d2d; height: 40px; padding: 7px; width: 400px; float: right; border-radius: 50px 0 0 50px;][style=background-color: #1f1f1f; border-radius: 50px 0 0 50px; height: 40px;] [style=font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 25px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 3px; font-weight: 100!important; text-align: right;]KNOCK OUT, GAME OVER[/style][style=font-family: courier new; text-align: right; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 4px;]WATCHING AS YOU FALL TO THE GROUND[/style][/style][/style]

[style=background-color: #2d2d2d; padding: 8px; width: 240px; margin-left: 3px; border-radius: 15px 0 0 15px;][style=background-color: #1f1f1f; padding: 5px; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; border-radius: 10px 0 0 10px;][style=font-family: arial narrow; color: #166deb; font-size: 50px; float: left; margin-right: 5px; font-weight: 100!important;]T[/style]he fact that most of the students of their class were filing out to go to the lunchroom was a welcome factor in deciding Iria's innocence. Ordinarily, most teachers would stick around after end bell had rung to answer questions about the class and make sure that every student went to lunch — but this particular teacher was vaguely uninterested in student body affairs, and with the exception of a few rowdy boys still milling about at the entrance, horsing around with playful shoves and dirty jokes, the only students left in the classroom were Shokichi Rihito and Iria Otonashi. "Takabe-san." "Takabe?" Surprise crossed Iria's expression like a flicker from a TV set. Why hate Takabe, of all people? She was a fairly pretty girl, who was more or less average in all subjects but stumbled over her words whenever the teacher called on her to read — her one fault was that she was a tad lacking in tact and sensitivity, and Iria entertained a vague theory that she had selected the seat in the corner of the classroom so she could get better reception on her cellphone while she texted in school. Still — "Jacked the seat I originally snagged first in the beginning of the year." — ah. Of course. Tacit as she was, Iria could not help breaking into a grin as she heard those words. What a beautiful reason to hate someone. A perfectly ordinary, petty, silly, stupid, and completely unabashed reason. She understood. She could sympathize. Sho was still talking. "Sits in the corner, right over there. You gonna swap the desks or something?" "Ah, well..." Was she that easy to read? That wasn't unsurprising — she was fairly used to being called a 'predictable' person — but then again, there were few other things people would normally do in such a situation. She scanned the room again quickly. The boys had their backs turned. If she had a chance, it was now or never. "Pretty much," Iria admitted. Then she swung her broken desk onto one shoulder. Using her free hand as support to propel her motion, she jumped onto the desk behind her own, springing soundlessly to Mai Takabe's seat at the corner. Her school shoes did not squeak as she pivoted on one leg, picking up Takabe's steel desk — pristine from lack of genuine use — while setting her own broken one down. Then she followed the same path she came, the desk in her arms wobbling precariously but not falling, until she jumped back to her own position and set the desk down with a satisfying stomp. "Mission accomplished," she announced, throwing her head back triumphantly. Never had Iria been so glad that Namimori Middle School did not nail its furniture down. [/style][/style][style=font-family: courier new; font-size: 10px; text-align: center;]TEMPLATE BY JOHN OF OTE[/style]

[atrb=vAlign,top][style=background-color: #2d2d2d; padding: 8px; width: 125px; border-radius: 15px 0 0 15px;][style=background-color: #1f1f1f; padding: 5px; border-radius: 10px 0 0 10px;] [style=margin-bottom: 5px;][/style][style=background-color: #2d2d2d; color: #166deb; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 2px;]TAGS[/style][style=font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; margin-left: 5px; margin-top: 3px; margin-bottom: 5px; text-transform: lowercase;]tag some people here[/style][style=background-color: #2d2d2d; color: #166deb; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 2px;]WORDS[/style][style=font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; margin-left: 5px; margin-top: 3px; margin-bottom: 5px;]450[/style][style=background-color: #2d2d2d; color: #166deb; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 2px;]NOTES[/style][style=font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; margin-left: 5px; margin-top: 3px; margin-bottom: 5px; text-transform: lowercase;]put a short blurb of notes here[/style] [/style][/style]

[SHOKICHI RIHITO]

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[atrb=width,450][atrb=style,padding-left: 10px;][atrb=valign,bottom] ♚ one motive: cater to the hollow tagged: iria otonashi

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[atrb=width,400][atrb=style,border-left: 1px dashed #EF6710; padding: 0px 5px 10px 10px;] "Heh, figures," he muttered, head shifting in a half-nod, half-tilt, a veiled expression of his satisfaction at having guessed correctly. It made sense, really. She had asked where someone he disliked sat—what other reason would she want that kind of information for? While it was, admittedly, rather underhanded to let someone else take the blame, Sho couldn't help but anticipate it. He had petty reasons for disliking Mai Takabe, but then again, didn't everyone dislike someone at some point for trivial reasons? It was human nature, really. Shokichi sat on the surface of a nearby desk, watching as Iria lifted the desk onto a shoulder as if it required absolutely no effort on her part, letting out a low whistle when she swapped the desks and leaped back to her original spot. "Daamn, do you do some kind of sport or something?" he asked, beckoned by wisps of curiosity. Ordinarily he wouldn't have been interested, but it wasn't often that someone could so casually leap with a large weight on their shoulder. That kind of thing required plenty of strength and dexterity, something that most people who were not physically active on a regular basis lacked. Iria had seemed like a relatively normal, unimposing person—had he misjudged? For the umpteenth time, thoughts of how deceiving appearances could be crossed his mind. He couldn't help but grin as well before moving his hands and clapping slowly and unobtrusively, keeping the sound fairly quiet so as to refrain from spoiling the fruits of Iria's efforts. "Good job," he managed amidst a fresh flurry of snickers. Dear gawd, was it bad that he actually wanted advanced algebra class to arrive sooner now? "Good game—Takabe's screwed. We all know how anal and strict the advanced algebra teacher is over things like this. Can't wait to see her reaction." And then he dissolved into more snickers, unable to contain his amusement. THIS TEMPLATE HAS BEEN CODED BY CRUX STRICTLY FOR PERSONAL USE ♚