[center][h2] Kenta Masanori [/h2][/center]
Kenta clicked his tongue gently against the roof of his mouth, the small noise enough to distract him from the class he was in. It was something along the lines of mathematics. Kenta was a bit distracted with other issues. Such as the detention he had shortly following. He bit the bottom of his lip gently, idly curious as to whether or not detentions were something that showed up on his record. He frowned, fingers running through the blonde hair gifted to him by his foreigner mother. Kenta was an odd thing, a man with blonde hair and blue eyes but fluent in Japanese with a Japanese birth father. He almost had no traits of his Japanese father in him, instead being a specimen of the Caucasian race. The lip chewing continued as he finally realized the class was ending. He gave a small frown and allowed himself a brief look back at what caused him to suddenly be reprimanded. 

---A few hours previous---

“H-hey, stop that!” Kenta shouted, running over to the wall that was currently being defaced with long flowing graffiti. Kenta stormed up to the hoodlum, who surprisingly, was actually wearing a hood. Kenta’s jaw locked and he pulled himself up to his full height, looking more like a man and less like a student as he did so in order to try and scare the graffiti artist. 

The hood just grinned and laughed “you’re Masanori, I know not to be afraid of you.” He suddenly had a glint of malice in his eyes “Hey Kenta buddy, hold this please?” With that he pressed the spray can in to Masanori’s hands and grinned “later.”

Kenta simply looked at the can, a confused look on his face. A loud noise sounded out behind him. 

“MASANORI!” 

Kenta spun and looked at the can, everything slowly clicked together. Kenta simply sighed.

----Now---

Kenta’s hand trembled gently as he reached for the detention door. He was afraid of what was going to be on the other side. A room full of delinquents? Maybe he was the only rule breaker today? The room was fairly quiet. He pushed the door open and walked in, a deep breather shuddering in his chest “U-uhm…this is the detention room right?” his fingers ran through his hair before he tore his eyes up from the floor toward the teacher and the one other student in the room. She was small, slight. He gave a small smile. She didn’t seem like a delinquent. The teacher merely huffed an answer and pointed him at the slip of paper. A disciplinary essay. Kenta simply nodded, grabbing the sheet and walking towards one of the desks.