[h1]Shiro [color=#fec080]"Glasses"[/color] Ishinuma[/h1]

Shiro wasn't very lucky.

He felt the hand on his shoulder and he knew, again, that this was fact. He wasn't very lucky. Seiryuu, and every painstaking day it brought Shiro, reminded him. Every found fight, near-death experience, and rugged glare reminded him. Shiro Ishinuma was unlucky, and that would never change.

Honestly, the kid was just trying to get lunch. Set A was (arguably) the most edible lunch plan in the whole cafeteria, so of course Shiro would order it. He got it everyday, it was routine, he had no reason [i]not[/i] to get it. So, he ordered, waited, and then felt it. The unforgettable weight of flesh on flesh, hand on shoulder, student on student.

[b]"[color=00746b]Switch your fucking set.[/color]"[/b]

Shiro turned around all too suddenly, back pressing hard against the counter as he tried to form as much space between himself and Reiji as possible. The lunch lady behind them faltered at Shiro's sudden outburst, and he cast a worried gaze over his shoulder at her. His silent plea for help was unanswered as she instead avoided eye contact. [b]"[color=#fec080]A-ah, Ishada-san,[/color]"[/b] He stammered, eyes narrowed to two anxious slits, [b]"[color=#fec080]Oh– did you want this set? I'm so sorry, here, take it! I-I'll even pay, if that's what you want just...[/color]"[/b]

Shiro curled tightly around himself, breathing quickly as he tried to ignore the fear of getting hit. God, couldn't he be blessed with one uneventful day? Shiro Ishinuma was unlucky, and this, of course, was just another reminder.