[B]Shu Isamu
Warakuma High - Classroom[/B]

He had gotten the window seat again. It was remarkable how in all his years of middle school he had been assigned to exact same spot in the leftmost row of the classroom, and even now that he was in highschool, his placing was still the same. He was fourth from the front, and although there were thirty desks instead of the twenty-four from his younger days, his position was essentially the same. How peculiar. Isamu didn't know what was up with the surprising coincidence, but if he ever got to meet whichever deity was responsible for the going-ons of his day-to-day life, he would remember to ask. But for now, he shelved the matter to the back of his mind, relaxing back against his chair as he took in the sun's rays. It was probably going to be a good day.

Isamu's sunning was interrupted by the ringing of the school bell. Time to get to work, he supposed. The half-Chinese teenager moved to place his cluttered box of stationery on the desk, inspecting his eclectic collection of pens, compasses, rulers and that one calligraphy brush that he forgot he had. It wouldn't be of much use anyway; school was not where he perfected his handwriting. That aside, he really needed to find a pen that worked before the teacher started handing out work. They were all dry. Or snapped into pieces due to an intense exam he did the year before. Why he hadn't cleared everything out he didn't know.

"Well," he said to himself cheerily, holding up a working blue pen with a sense of triumph. "I'm off to a great start."