The class ran just as slowly and awkwardly as Fuyuki had expected, each second feeling like an eternity. If there was one thing he truly feared, it was dealing with someone he knew absolutely nothing about and both of his workmates fitted the bill. Not to mention Kochizuki still looked like he might lash out at any moment... When the bell rang signalling the end of the lesson, Fuyuki rapidly gathered his stuff and left the classroom at a near-run; anything to get away from the oppressive atmosphere that Mutou's idiotic grouping decision had created. He spent the rest of the day holed up in his room, resentfully stabbing at a poorly drawn effigy of the teacher...

---

Saturday was Fuyuki's special day.
He had skipped morning classes altogether, sneaking out in the early hours hauling a dufflebag. He worked his way down to the town, surreptitiously avoiding those few students who commuted to school and booked into a small hotel near the train station. And in his little hotel room he began to set up a vast array of makeup kits, mirrors and clothes. Saturday was his [i]special[/i] day, the only day of the week when Fuyuki became Yuki. This week he had picked out a rather frilly pink dress, matching ribbons for his long hair and some classic kneesocks. The plan was to head into town after the school rush ended, hop on a train to the next city over and go splurge this week's earnings on that cat-girl school uniform. Maybe have a crepe too.
It was all going accordingly to plan, until he got off the train back at Yamaku and glanced up at the station clock. Morning classes had already ended. The town would soon be swarming with students.
Some would recognise him.

It took all of his formidable mental fortitude to stop from going into full panic mode and he headed resolutely toward the hotel. Unfortunately, history has a way of repeating itself. As he turned the last corner, just metres from salvation, he once again walked headlong into someone. This time Fuyuki managed to keep his footing, falling half against the wall; a dozen warnings blared through his head until he took notice and saw with mounting horror that he had walked into another Yamaku student. He processed the situation and its possible outcomes in an moment of impressive mental agility, trying to come up with the best bullshit he could feed to this girl... He decided on an unconventional tack, thanking his past self for removing his glaring PDA that morning. He made a few complex looking gestures in a faux-flustered manner, using what little sign language he knew to apologise profusely. With any luck, the girl would think him deaf; he was sure he could blag his way into being a lipreader too. After a moment of thought, he gave an exaggerated motion of inspiration and pulled a little notebook from one of his many shopping bags. [b]I'm so sorry,[/b] he wrote. [b]Are you ok?[/b] He passed the notebook over gingerly, doing his damnest to look as meek and feminine as possible, even giving the taller girl a nervous upturned glance.