Mariko glanced around to both sides of the corridor before opening the door. The room, while being festooned with brightly coloured papers and crafts, was empty. Nope, this definitely was the place. Every Saturday, at five, Origami Club. The O.C, except with paper instead of post-modernism. So where was club president Mizushima? It just wasn't like her to be late. She usually arrived a good fifteen minutes early to plan out the meetings. Maybe she was trying a new pair of crutches? Or maybe it was the fact that the wall clock inside the room read half past four? Mariko crossed over to it, and unhooked it from its nail. She pulled out her phone, and turned it on. Same result. She'd arrived half an hour early. She put the clock back into it's regular position, sat down at her regular chair, and sat and thought for a while. 

She thought about what had happened today. Not much, admittedly. Apart from the mute guy she'd found stalking her, the day had been normal. Average. Ordinary. Expect with someone else's high-risk glamorous life suddenly transplanted in for about five minutes. There had been no foreshadowing of any of that at all. No prior warning. The dude had seemed normal, disinterested in her or in anyone else. People came to his desk, usually alone, in between classes. She'd never even bothered to ask why. It was like asking why the angry one armed guy in the same class always looked like he was about to punch something, or why the tall scowly guy refused to change his face to anything other then perma-death glare, or why that cute first-year she'd met last week kept taking pictures of everything around her like she was afraid it'd vanish. It didn't really matter to anyone except them, it didn't impact her. (Except if that american used her as an impromptu punching bag.) in any real physical way. She was a rock. She was an island. And she was perfectly happy with that. Which was probably why she'd overreacted so hard when she'd seen Fuyuki-san up a tree near her window. 

And afterwards, when she'd seen what her actions had indirectly provoked, she wasn't thinking straight either. When she'd heard the guy was stalking [i]her[/i], she'd freaked. Her hand still stung a little from that particular incident. And after that, when Fuyuki had tried to apologize for his actions clearly not remorseful in any way for his actions, she'd wanted to show him how badly it'd scared her. She'd wanted to grab him by the neck and not let go until she couldn't feel either of their heartbeats. Even then, she would've settled for [i] explaining, in soul-crushing detail, exactly how badly he'd made her feel, staring into those tiny hate-filled little eyes and laying out the trauma of those few minutes onto him, and finally, as some sort of punishment, explaining exactly how she'd exact her revenge on him via [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vGAhSncn500#t=1m55s] hacking that tablet he used and controlling each and every little thing he said at the most inopportune times so that EVERYONE he ever met and would ever meet would know of what that malodorous little prick had done to her[/url], and turning off the machine while she was monologuing so when she walked away, he wouldn't even be able to get a good comeback even if he thought of one. [/i] She grinned. That would've been sooo good.

But in real life, people don't get second chances. Even if one tries again, time would've already passed by and the second attempt would always be marred by the first. Neither of the two of them had wanted to look each other in the eyes, both obviously embarrassed about making a scene. She'd just agreed to his terms to never bring it up again and just parted ways then and there. That's how she'd ended up here.

She sighed, mind coming up with a few good lines she could've said had she been a little bit quicker at coming up with retorts, and waited for the rest of the people in the O.C to arrive.