[Shigkego + Haruka] [Fiction/Solo] In Which I Talk To Myself

Shikego was wondering when it would happen.

Every time she entered a new school, the headmaster had to talk to her. Well, at least, have a one-sided conversation with her. They’d tell her how they’d make her feel comfortable, how they’d accommodate her, how they accepted her despite her disability or whatever. For fuck’s sake, she had notebook. She had a text-to-speech program on her electronics just in case. Can’t people fucking read?

Of course, at Hope’s Peak, it wouldn’t be any different. The headmaster would probably be more formal, have a nicer uniform, the language used would probably be more professional, the office would probably be nicer, fancier, more imposing. But, ultimately, it would all be the same – a headmaster who felt like they did their good deed for the day and a Shikego who couldn’t care less.

It hadn’t happened yet, for some reason. Well, this is the most important school in the nation, he was probably busy. What if it didn’t happen, though? What if people just accepted that she was just a girl who couldn’t speak, and everyone would just go on their fucking merry way and leave her alone?

Shikego sighed, and nuzzled into her clothes, making her look like a pair of eyes between a mop and a rolled-up orange bolt of cloth. It was cold outside, cold enough for her to wear her favorite purple sweater, along with a cotton orange scarf. It wasn’t snowing out in the courtyard, though the sky was that concrete grey that signified that snow was on the way.

In truth, Shikego was only out here because there wasn’t anyone else out here. It gave her plenty of freedom to listen to music, write on her tablet, do stuff without other people around. She smiled at this thought of being completely alone, retrieved her headphones along with her tablet from her bag, placed the headset over her messy hair, and put on some good existential post-rock.

Then, of course, someone had to ruin fucking everything for her.

“Ahem.” came a harsh female voice from above her, which, in truth, most voices did. Shikego tried not to hear it, but there was another sharp cough, and, of course, that meant business. Maybe she could play the ‘oh, I have my music up too loud, so I can’t hear you’ game with this new person? Maybe that would clue them in that she didn’t want to be bothered.

“If you continue to ignore me, I’ll have half a mind to cut the cord to those headphones and confiscate them. The school handbook, if you had bothered to read it, would have informed you that certain electronic devices are not allowed during school hours, music devices being one of them.” The voice continued. Shit. These headphones were expensive, and she didn’t want to explain to her parents that they got damaged ‘cause of some girl with a superiority complex! Shikego sighed, grumbled nonsense, pretty much the only thing she could grumble, and took off her headset, placed them on the surface of the picnic table she was sitting at, and looked up.

It was…really fucking horrifying, and somewhat cool. Half of this girl’s face was fucking covered in burns! Second-degree, maybe? In one or two places you could see muscle. Her right eye was obviously blind, and her hair, though it was hard to tell, was a wig. She had on a black longcoat, buttoned up without anything poking out from under it. Shikego couldn’t help but wince – it was really hard to look at, but she couldn’t look away. Christ, hadn’t this girl heard of a skin transplant?

The girl smiled, though some of her lip was torn off. “I see you’re looking at my scars. Don’t worry, that little look of displeasure you just had was far from the worst experience they’ve given me, not that I’m ashamed of them – not in the slightest,” the girl extended a gloved hand. Thank God it was gloved – Shikego didn’t want to touch burned flesh. Well, a part of her did. But there was another small part that wondered if it would cause this girl harm. “I am Haruka Kobayashi, Super High School Level Seitokaicho and president of this school’s student council. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Shikego shook Haruka’s hand, but she didn’t share the council member’s small smile. She had been bullied by members of the student council in the past. Not that they were punished in any way.

“You are Shikego Ichihara, yes?” The student council member asked. “The poet.” Shikego could tell that the girl wanted to add some sort of nasty comment about her defect to the end of that – but, then again, maybe that was just because of her past experiences. This girl definitely had that sort of air around her, though.

Shikego nodded.

The girl – Haruka, right? – sat on the other side of the picnic table, hands folded on her lap in a really proper manner. “I’ve been informed of your disability.”

Oh, boy, here we go.

Haruka nodded to herself, like she was aware of Shikego’s thoughts to herself. “Well, normally, I’d wait until someone has shown to be dissatisfied or have difficulty adjusting to their life at Hope’s Peak Academy until I attempt to help them, but for certain people, I make an exception. I apologize for not getting to you sooner in the school year, but certain matters got in the way.”

‘Certain People’? What was that supposed to mean?

“Well, I’d like to let you know that the student council of this academy, and, of course, the faculty and administration, will be willing to help you accommodate to this school.”

Shikego paused for a second, then powered on the screen of her tablet, selected an app, and moved one of her hands across the keys, her fingers typing so fast that it seemed that they weren’t actually there, until she hit the enter button, and an electronic voce filled the courtyard’s freezing air. “How exactly would you do this?”

The Haruka girl – it seemed to early to call her a bitch, but she was getting close to earning that moniker – seemed confused at first, before putting two-and-two together. “Er, well, I have a list of extracurricular clubs in the student council room…”

More keyboard movement. “I don’t want to join a club.”

Haruka’s friendly façade was obviously fading. “I see. I could also help you find a friend or help you integrate some sort of social circle. I find that having friends to talk to –however you would do it – helps alleviate any stress that this sort of school life brings.”

Nice save, Haruka. Shikego kept typing on the keyboard. “I don’t want a friend.”

Haruka sighed. “Well, what do you want?”

Shikego sat still for a moment, taking her eyes off of the president’s fleshy parts of her face for a second, before moving to her keyboard again. “I want to work on my writing in peace. I have followers, and I need to give them regular updates.”

Haruka mumbled ‘artist types…’ to herself. She probably didn’t intend Shikego to hear it, but she had gotten good at hearing small things like that. “Well, like it or not, you will have to participate in a school function or interact with one of your peers eventually. You can’t just expect to skate by your time at the most prestigious academy in Japan with no memories to show for it, can you? Did you know we have a poetry club here? Would you be interested in joining that? Would you take me up on my offer of finding a suitable friend for you?

“No.”

Haruka sighed. Maybe she was relenting? “Well, if you have any second thoughts, and if you are smart, you would, you know where to find me,” the president got up, put her gloved hands into the pockets on her coat, and stepped away a little bit. “Have fun in the cold.”

Shikego smiled as the door to one of the hallways closed behind her. She was free! Was that the meeting that she had been dreading? Probably not. It wasn’t with someone official. It was still to come. She slipped on the pair of headphones, started up the song she had been listening to, and opened the word processor app on her tablet. All is silent. Her future was bright.