Warnings: Asuka-OOC (Don't really have enough on the real character to do her justice...)

There was relative silence across the lawns of the Academy in the early morning hours of the day. The sun was just dawning upon a horizon obscured by trees, all coloured with the bright gold and scarlett hues of autumn. The locals of the nearby town and those few professors whom chose to commute an hour every morning to work at Germany's most prestigious academy simply shook their heads, pulling their jackets tighter about them, „Es ist schon so kühl." (trans: "It is already so cool.")

Youji sighed at the sight of that unusually red hair probably hanging into the pale's man's violet eyes, not visable from where he stood. He had heard Ran had returned this past week, but he had yet to see the man until now. Something in his chest felt relieved at the sight of the quiet man, sitting alone atop the steep slope down to the soccer field. Though, something else within him seemed to sink. They hadn't parted ways on the best of terms before Ran left for the alternative academy.

Heaving a louder, more pronounced groan, he began to stagger his way up the hill. It was just strange to be up at this shade of morning, and meeting Ran after nearly a semester was also an added oddity. The redhead, though, seemed to take no notice of him approaching.

"It's not a difficult climb, Kudou." Well, maybe a little notice.

"Psch. Please. You're sitting down 'cause you're so exhausted." He called back jovially.

He was sure the usually stoic man was rolling his eyes as he faced the opposite direction.

After making his way up the slope, the blond dropped lazily down beside his old friend and became silent.

There were a few moments of silence between them, until finally it was evident that the Fujimiya would not be the one to begin this conversation. He would have to take the initiative if he hoped to get anywhere by noon.

Youji tilted his sunglasses, "Well, I'm flattered you'd want to watch the sun rise with me, and all, but I was kind of hoping we were beyond companionable silence."

Violet eyes glinted at the other's humour but their owner spoke nothing.

"Look, Ran. I know we didn't exactly part ways on a-- well, you didn't exactly part ways with me on a good note. What is this about?" A tone of seriousness now.

The redhead shrugged and was silent for a moment before he finally spoke, "I wanted him to fear me."

"What?"

"Last year, when you asked why I tried to throw it all away; when I told him I'd kill him. I wanted him to fear me." There was a low growl, "I didn't know it then. That's why I didn't answer."

Youji watched him for a moment in deep thought, "Well? Did you get what you wanted?"

A pause, "No. He still dosen't."

The blond quirked a dark eyebrow, "Why do you say that?"

"Because he let me back in, didn't he?" The voice was icy and quiet.

Youji sighed heavily, "Ran, you don't have to do this. He's actually probably a lot more fearful of you than he let's on. He's got all of the teachers giving reports about you directly to him; the man has to be somewhat paranoid. He's letting you back in to keep his eye on you, so he can know where you are at all times."

Ran said nothing.

"I know you hate him, but is it really worth it? Back and forth from here to alternative school? You'd have been out of here ages ago, if you'd just dealt with it like a normal person."

"So would you, if you'd bothered to attend class."

The lanky senior chuckled at that, green eyes twinkling in mirth. Youji was, like Ran, a few years older than the rest of the senior class, due to his awful academic scores and attendance record. It was merely his parent's money that kept him there, as he lacked the motivation of his younger, more inspired sibling. "I suppose, but then who'd be here to put up with you?"

Silence for a few moments, "Thank you for watching Aya while I was away."

"Meh. You know it was nothing. So, how did it go?"

"Same as usual. Wake up at six, sleep at nine. Work all hours inbetween."

Youji made a face, "That's tough, man. Bet you're glad to be back."

There was no response this time, and when the blond looked over, the silent man actually seemed to be pondering over that particular question. Was he glad to return? What had he returned to, really?

"Hey, man. Let's just put it all behind us. None of it ever happened, alright?" Youji smiled, placing a firm hand on the redhead's shoulder, "Principal Takatori fears you, Aya (and the rest of the female population) adores you, I forgive you, and everything's as it should be, ok?"

After a moment's hesitation Ran nodded, the corner of his lips tilting in the ghost of a smile, "All is as it should be."

"Yeah." A pause, "Now let's get up, the grass is getting my ass wet."

"Thank you for sharing."

"Anytime, man. Anytime."

He reached over lazily, smacking the off button on his alarm clock, two minutes before it could go off. He made no effort to move, though. He was tired, and not feeling well, which was strange as he could never remember being ill before. He had always been too active and healthy to suffer any sort of sickness, so it hit him like a brick when he found he couldn't sit upright.

He rolled over, burying his face in his covers and began to remember the past few days.

Aya had been consistant throughout the past week, constantly demanding to know what he was wearing to the dance, which he still had no actual intention of attending. He felt his nerves wearing thinner daily from simply listening to her broken Japanese, and was actually beginning to understand what she said when she unknowingly began lapsing back into English. The girl was simply more than he was willing to deal with, he had made up his mind that he should simply tell her he had no desire to go with her.

Aside from that had been a series of things that continuously pelted themselves at his conscious. He was beginning to not so much grasp the specifics of what the people around him were saying as much as he could get the general idea. Over the last week he had become something of a master at reading tones and body language-- it had been necessary that after nearly three weeks he was finding a way to at least understand what was going on around him. 1

He had come to find a growing list of observations on how to know what people were speaking about, when he couldn't fully understand what they were saying:

Omi would roll his eyes and lock his jaw when ranting about something irritating, like his brother, or his day. When he was thinking, he would fidget idly with his black tie.

Crawford leaned into Schuldig naturally when the firey German was around, unknowing of it, himself. His voice became not so much lower as simply firmer when he grew irritated or upset, and he would always pinch the bridge of his nose when he was approaching the point of yelling.

Schuldig was an open book.

Youji naturally migrated to the centre of every group of people he was with. He would raise his tones to be noticed and do practically anything for the attention it deserved. His eyes became blank and dull when he was upset.

Aya made no effort to hide anything about herself from him. He almost wished there was some mystery to the girl, but as it was, he had lost interest as of their first meeting.

Ran was a different story than all of them, though. There was something very unyielding and enigmatic about the pale redhead. He rose at the ungodly hour of six every morning, and seemed to strain himself to stay awake longer than Ken in the evenings. The senior usually became a void doll around nine, but would rarely let his eyelids drop enough so that he couldn't keep his eye on the brunette.

Yes, Ran had it out for him, he was sure. He really didn't blame him for it, either, though it was getting slightly annoying. He would find the other man watching him at the strangest times, like when he was bored after finishing his lessons and hung his head upside down from the edge of his bed until he felt dizzy or started to giggle at strange things. Ran was always watching him.

It wasn't just that freezing violet-eyed gaze that was so disconcerting, either. It was the redhead's tone and body language. They never gave any sign or signal of what was going through his head. His Japanese was pronounced fluent, but monotone. Almost meaningless. He had never met someone as guarded as the redhead, which lead him to certain inevitable suspicions about his stoic roommate.

What had the guy been through to build up such barriers around himself? A loveless childhood? No, he had a sister, and she certainly seemed fond of him, as he'd seen them walking about together, chatting amiably about whatever. That was the only time the other man was readable at all. He stood very close to her, a protective proximity, and would often touch her-- a hand on the shoulder or the back-- not so much for her comfort but for his own reassurance in... what?

The two of them were a scene, walking along the walkways as if there wasn't a thing to be done. No books to read or assignments to hand in, just a quiet conversation with one's closest companion and family. Aya spoke animatedly in unaccented English with her dark eyes alight and a bounce in her step, while her brother walked more rigidly at her side, a softness in his eyes and a calm tone to his voice. He was a different Ran than the one that glared and snapped at him all evening and early morning.

Perhaps, though, what was most disturbing about the older man were the sudden whims he caused in Ken's mind. It had been a strange thing that had at first confused the brunette:

Two evenings past, he had entered the dorm room to find Ran was at the showers down the hall, however his shoes remained neatly set by the door. He wasn't sure what it was that caused it, but he had the sudden urge to steal the redhead's shoes and hide them. Being a very impulsive person, himself, and always one for a joke, he did so. He stowed them deep beneath the other man's bed, leaving them there to be forgotten. If Ran asked him, then he would simply feign ignorance.

It hadn't taken long to go into affect.

The redhead entered the room holding his folded laundry with his damp hair falling in strings against his scalp. He had passed the doorway simply, stowing his laundry in a growing pile at the corner of the closet, and turned back to slip on his shoes and leave again-- all the while ignoring the brunette.

He stared blankly at the empty spot where his shoes had been. He had put them right there, hadn't he? 'Perhaps I put them in the closet.' He walked over and opened the closet, peering down at a pair of well-shined black boots, but not the ones he was looking for.

This was most suspicious.

He turned to glance at Ken, whom was ignoring him completely, completing a maths assignment with a bored expression. He scrawled a few numbers in scratchy writing and then turned to type an equation into a calculator with his eraser-tip. Examining the result, he turned back to the paper and scrawled it down messily, moving on to the next problem.

Nothing seemed unusual.

The brunette looked up and blinked when he saw the redhead watching him, „Nani?"

"Have you seen my shoes?" Ran spoke in curt English.

"I don't understand."

„Kutsu wa, doko ni arimasu ka?" (trans: "Where are my shoes?") 2 He repeated in carefully toned Japanese.

The brunette frowned, glancing at the doorway then at Ran's red-socked feet. He stared at the man's socks for a bit in amusement before shrugging and turning back to his homework.

The stoic man was suspicious, but didn't mention it again, simply putting on his spare boots and leaving.

Before the other man returned, Ken had also hidden his tie, and his razor. He was probably going to be skewered on the tip of a katana for his, but until then he would continue to amuse himself at the redhead's expense.

Just the evening before he had hidden Ran's reading glasses and a pair of black leather gloves. The redhead's confused face had been amusing for Ken, when Ran had sat down to read over his English essay and found he had no glasses to do so. After looking for them for a while, he had become angry and frustrated, but he still hadn't out-right accused the brunette of anything.

His anger might not have been very pleasant company, but at least it was a reaction.

Frowning at this memory Ken groaned, figuring he should get up anyway, and began to rise. He was still adjusting to being the invisable, personality-less new guy. At his old school in Japan he had been the star goalie of the soccer team, and a constant figure in high school society. He had always had someone around him to talk with, study with, and share his opinions with. Here, there was no one but Schuldig, Aya, and Ran. None of which were ideal companions in his mind. If he could actually speak the language, Omi could have been a great friend, though.

Pulling on a shirt roughly, Ken got ready for the day.

"So I don't understand why you won't just tell me what you're wearing. We're going to this dance together, and I really think there should be some coordination between us. If you're going in a simple black and white tux, then I think it would be great if we both wore a set of white gloves. Or if you're planning on a different coloured shirt, than it should match my dress, which means we need to go to town and pick you up an idigo-coloured dress shirt-- it's the only thing that will do. It should be a silky kind of fabric... Ken, are you listening to me?" The younger girl turned a narrow glare at the boy to her right.

Jerking out of his reverie, in which he had painted an interesting black spiral in the centre of his canvas, the Japanese boy turned his eyes back to the girl on his left, „... Gomen." (trans: "...Sorry.")

"Ugh! I've been telling you for a week. We need to get started on this so we're all prepared for the dance. We'll need to establish a place to meet, and what we'll do beforehand, and..." The girl continued on her ranting, this time in English, leaving her date to blink quizzically at her once before returning to his former apathy.

Before him the spiral grew larger and larger, and a bit lopsided towards the right side of the material, but it still didn't look too bad. Ken didn't really mean anything by this piece, but was amused by it, anyway. It was better than listening to Aya's unrelenting rant fest, that was conveniently venued right in his left ear.

"KEN!" Her voice barked.

Nearly falling from his stool at the sound of his name, he turned to look at her, initiating the conversation in heavilly accented English, "What?"

"You weren't listening. AGAIN!" She replied, her eyes firey in their wrath, "I can't just wait around all week for your decisions. The dance is coming up soon!"

Something in him snapped, he didn't have to know the words to understand what she was starting on again, "Then dance with..." He gave up word-searching after only a moment, "...other guy!"

Raising a fine eyebrow, very much in the manner of her oniichan, she began back in his native language, "Perhaps the switching of langauges has confused you, Ken. I'm sick of waiting. Now, what are you wearing?"

People around the art room were beginning to stare at them oddly.

"No, it hasn't. I will not go to this thing with you." He threw down his brush on the stand and made to grab his canvas.

Crash.

All eyes turned to Farfarello's small office in the corner of the room, as a hubcap-- of all things-- rolled slowly out of the doorway before circling a bit and landing on it's side with a resounding rattle. A moment later Farfarello, himself, stumbled out of the room covered in thick layer of white powder. His hair appearing to be the very colour of snow-- which was oddly suiting on him. 3

With his one amber eye looking slighlty unbalanced, the teacher muttered in a low Irish accent, "It's perfectly leagal. Go back to what you were doing." And he stumbled back to his blender area, looking for a sadly misplaced titanium spork, or something of equal oddness.

The student's made confused faces and dismissed him as psychotic before returning back to their work.

Ken turned his glare back at Aya, "Find someone else."

With that, he picked up his canvas and went to sit on the other side of the room.

Lunch did little to settle Ken over the matter of Aya. As he sat silently amidst the small group at his lunch table-- Omi, Nagi, Schuldig, and Youji-- she walked past, purposefully bumping against his chair and throwing him a nasty glare before continuing on her way. The other members of the small table took notice, of course.

Ken watched her retreating form exiting the commons alongside an older girl.

Youji let out a low whistle, "Sounds like someone's got it out for you, Kenken. What'd you do?"

Brown eyes turned slowly to the owner of the voice, "Someone has what out for me?"

To his left, Omi smiled, "It's an expression, Ken kun." He had taken to adding a 'kun' to everyone's name lately, having thought it interesting when Ken called him 'Omi kun', "It means she is angry with you."

"Oh. Yes... She is." He nodded, silently sitting back in his chair and glaring at the glob of under-cooked rice upon his plate, not yet daring to actually try it.

A unanimous blink.

"Why?" The young blond asked again, his blue eyes wide in curiousity. It was rare when Ken spoke, having little to say in English he had generally been keeping silent; so now he seemed to have the rapt attention of everyone.

He shrugged, "I will not dance with her."

"You mean go to the winter dance? She asked you?" Youji questioned.

Ken simply nodded, "Yes. I am not going."

Nagi rolled her eyes, "She's a bitch anyways. She probably had another date lined up right behind you. Good thing you got rid of her while you could. I hear she's really possessive--"

"Nagi kun!" Omi frowned at his boyfriend, "You've never even spoken with her."

"But you have."

"Oh, yeah." The petite blond's smile dropped, "She's a bitch."

Schuldig rolled his eyes from his spot by the elder of the Kudou-Tsukiyono siblings, noting as Ken's attention turned back to the glob of white before him. He was slowly molding it into a castle with his fork. He sighed and looked to his own significant other out of the corners of his eyes, "Youji..."

Green eyes glanced back at him, "Schuldig..."

"Youji."

"Schuldig."

"Youji!"

"Schuldig!"

"Youji!!!"

"What is it already!?"

"Your roots are showing."

The blond frowned, "I know."

"And I need to talk to you."

"I thought that we were talking."

"In private."

"Go ahead, it's not like anyone's listening, anyway."

"They do seem pretty occupied with Ken's girl problems."

"But Ken doesn't."

"Maybe he's homosexual."

"Schu, you think everyone's homosexual."

"I was right about you--"

"I'm bi, fuck you very much."

"--and Brad!"

Youji's mouth snapped shut, his eyes clouding over instantly. The blond's frown was deeper than his expression, it was in his very aura, So, that's what this is about.

"I mean..."

"You mean...?"

"Like I said, Youji... I need to--"

"I can't believe you." Youji's tone was low.

"Would you just--"

"I can't believe you!"

"Youji! Look, I--"

By now several people had turned to watch at the sound of Youji's rising voice. Several murmers between the onlookers caused others to turn their attention to the two seniors, as well. At the other end of the table Omi rolled his eyes; he knew what was coming, everyone really did. For some reason though, it was always a big event.

"You've been at him again, haven't you!?" The blond's green eyes were narrowed sharply, "He's a teacher, Schuldig--"

"Not here!" The German leaned in, sparing the onlookers a glance, "We need to talk in private."

Without another word the two seniors excused themselves to the hallway. Behind them, there was silence until slowly people turned back to what they were doing previously. The three remaining boys at the table did not speak for a moment, though.

Nagi frowned, "What's this? No show this time?"

His boyfriend nodded, "Yea... Maybe it's actually serious for once..."

Ken's eyes had not left the door; he had just come to a revelation. His only aquaintances at this school were four gay students, one gay maths professor, one somewhat-cooky art-teacher, a clingy and stalkerish freshman girl, and her emotionless and eerie older brother. Whatever happened to normal people? Everyone he knew was either all over someone of their own sex, or in some strange way psychotic.

What would his parents have thought?

He didn't really think any of this to be negative, just odd. Another difference from Japan. He had been with Kase, but none of his friends had ever known about his relations with the other man. They wouldn't have seen him the same way. He smiled lightly, seeing Nagi rest his chin lightly on his boyfriend's shoulder as he peered into a book the other boy held before him.

This time it wasn't the memory of Japan that dug at him. It wasn't any specific memory from his past. It wasn't Kase, or anything the older man had actually done. It was what he had represented; someone to be with.

He sort of missed that.

There was a short, curt knock on the door to her dorm room, and Aya sighed before getting up to answer it. She undid the lock lazily and pounced when she saw her oniichan standing there as dull as ever.

„Oniichan! Genki desu!?"

Barely stumbling as she threw herself against his chest, he made a show of rolling his eyes, "Hai, hai."

She dragged him inside by the wrist and forced him into the same old chair, closing the door and plopping back down onto her bed. She turned to the dark-haired girl on the bed opposite her own, "Asuka, this is my oniichan, Ran."

"Pleased to meet you." The French girl smiled. 4

He nodded a bit stiffly, he wasn't used to the idea of someone else being around when he spoke with his sister. The girl hadn't been there last time he came up, and she certainly wasn't there at the beginning of the year.

"So, Oniichan! You came to see me!"

Another silent nod from the redhead.

"Asuka and I were just talking about what we're wearing to the dance! I haven't shown you my dress, RaRa, but it's really beautiful." She pulled her knees under her, getting situated.

He nodded again, quietly, "Don't call me that. Are you going alone?"

Her smile faded, "No... I was going to go with Ken but..." Seeing a dark look cross her brother's face, she shook her head, "Nevermind."

"But what?" His voice was lower, now.

"Nothing, RaRa!" She sing-songed and began to look about for a pencil to do her maths assignment with.

Ran scowled.

Looking up from a copy of The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown, Asuka smirked to herself, "Apparently this Ken fellow refused to accompany her."

Aya shot her roommate a glare.

Ran was silent for a moment, as he digested the information. It was strange how he felt his feeling being scattered and divided, waiting to merge into one conscious thought. Seeing Aya's sullen face, he felt anger. She was beautiful and sweet, and only a fool would dare refuse her. Yet, at the same time, he hadn't wanted Ken to be near her in the first place. He had practically threatened her to preserve his own privacy just one week ago; this should be a good thing. A sign that Ken was going to actually stay away from her, and he wouldn't need to worry so much.

Yet she still appeared disappointed, which made him angry. Why does she want to go with him anyway? They're hardly even compatible. Aya was sweet, caring, pretty, and full of laughter, while Ken was... Well, he was still working on that. It wouldn't even be logical for them to have anything together. He reminded himself absentmindedly that it didn't matter as long as the two kept seperate from one another.

"Just forget about him, Aya chan. He's not worth it." He spoke quietly. Stay away from him.

Asuka rolled her eyes, "I've been telling her that for almost an hour now."

"Ugh! Neither of you get it! You just don't get it!" The braided girl snapped angrily, "He's going through a lot of pain right now! He's in a place he's never been before with people he's never known. He doesn't speak the language, and he doesn't have any friends..." She paused, "Other than those ridiculous queers he's always sitting with in the commons."

"Hey!" The French girl snapped back from the other side of the room, "Youji is not just some queer!"

The younger Fujimiya rolled her eyes, "You just think he's hot."

„Il n'est pas un homosexuel. Il est un bi." (trans: "He's not homosexual. He's bi.") The older girl muttered tritely before looking back to her book.

Ran frowned at his imouto, having been good friends with Youji in the past, he did not caring much for how she was speaking, "Aya chan." His voice was a quiet repremendation.

She had the decency to look ashamed for a moment, „Gomen, Oniichan."

The rest of his visit until he left to play interpretor for Ken and Crawford was fairly uneventful, and Asuka occasionally joined them on their light conversation. The junior girl would be a good figure for Aya to have around, he decided. They did not mention Ken again, but the redhead consciously made note to speak with the other man that evening. Whatever was transpiring between his imouto and the Japanese boy was his business, and he would demand to know.

To Be Continued...

1 Actual statistics say that if a person were to be deposited alone and without any translation resources in a country where a foreign language is all that is spoken, that person will be able to generally understand the language in six weeks time. After six months that person would be fluent in the language (this is speech-wise; not writing) .

2 "...wa, doko desu ka." is somewhat interchangable with "...wa, doko ni arimasu ka." Arimasu is more relevant to the location of inanimate objects (ie:Kutsu), while desu is more of an indication of condition, quality, number, characteristics, and identity; however "Kutsu wa, doko desu ka?" is exceptable. Here Ran is rather formal/uptight (you decide which) so he's speaking more of the sense: "Where are my shoes located?"

If you're interested on the matter: Japanese uses three verbs as the equivalence of existance ("to be"/"sein"/"être"): desu, arimasu and imasu. Imasu is used to locate all living things (except plants... wtf?), as opposed to arimasu which is when looking for nonliving things (...plants?). So when looking for someone, "Kyo san wa, imasu ka." (trans: "Where is Kyo?"), and when looking for something, "Hon wa, doko ni arimasu ka." (trans: "Where is the book (located)?"). Arimasu is also used as the equivalence of possession ("to have"/"haben"/"avoir")... But that's another lesson for another day.

3 Mysterious appearance of the anime Farf. Cooky.

4 Yes, Asuka est française, because I'm learning French and would like to make some use of it.