[b]Sato Hashimoto[/b] // [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5VnCuNtCrno]Warakuma High, By The Front Gate[/url]

The senior almost jumped a little when he felt a tap on his back, but he suppressed it and instead turned around on his heel with gusto, causing his entire coat to swing a little. Instead of who he thought it’d be, the person that managed to get his attention was no other than Ms. Drama President herself, Leiko Hamada. Sato immediately assumed it was official club business, like maybe there [i]was[/i] Drama club on Saturdays already, due to how he tried to brush it off like it was nothing, but the unease written on her face told him otherwise.

“[i]Please don’t tell me you plan to home in that state.[/i]” Sato stopped a smirk from appearing on his lips at that. It was just a cut lip, not a broken nose. Her words confused him a bit though. Ever since she started to Warakuma High as a first-year, there were all sorts of rumors, and enough that they had managed to spread to her upperclassmen. One of the more memorable ones was that she got in fist fights often, but Sato never thought that to be possible based on his extremely limited knowledge of her. Everybody knew that her parents were rich and all sorts of malice towards her spawned from that since most of Warakuma was middle-class at best. The “affluent” part of town where she likely lived was a common subject of jokes with some of the less popular guys in his class.

Sato shook his head at her statement after a long moment, ambiguously answering what seemed to be a rhetoric. She continued with little hesitation to go on about how he should head to the nurse’s office for such a scuff. The same weird and suppressed smirk from before reappeared, though he tried with little effort to wipe it off his mug. It really wasn’t a big deal to him. When they lived in a particularly scummy city, street brawls were easy to find, and his father had always said “That’s what boys do.” In hindsight it was a stupid thing to say to a child, but the idea that guys should be able to take a punch or two always stuck with him as “right.”

“I heard the nurse was a creep,” Sato replied casually, though a pang of sharp pain ran through his jaw as he talked. His hand instinctively went to touch it but was only met with a tiny trickle of crimson liquid on his fingers again. “But that’s only a rumor, like I’m sure most of the ‘information’ I’ve heard about you is. Have we formally met one-on-one yet, Hamada?” He extended his right hand out for a shake but quickly retracted it when he remembered the smear of blood on it. “As you know, I’m Sato Hashimoto, a third-year, and member of the Archery club.”