[color=#FF6200][b]Fukushu Haru[/b][/color]
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A bell rings for lunch, and Fukushu is amongst the first out of the door. On one shoulder an old leather rucksack and the other her jacket, still mostly off.

The few lessons imparted little of note. History has fascinating beats, and it always intrigued her to see what waves come from the smallest things. Things that would take a thousand recollections and historians to put together the details of what led to some great event or another.

It's all just idle thoughts, easily disrupted by the heavy double doors opening to the outside. A lot more breathable out here, where the wind blows gently and the artificial heat of the school dissipates. 

Fukushu prefers colder climates. A necessity of working on a boat in winter, but a detriment she came to enjoy. Many others would be shivering in this chill, she was still on the verge of sweat. That familiar itch at the back of her neck were moisture clusters with hair to irritate her to no end being proof of such.

Perhaps she should loosen her hair more often? She sets her items down on a shaded bench and examines a sample of hair. Its vibrant locks were done in a hodgepodge of ribbons and braids, one of the few indulgences she has. Hair decoration and care.  

She sets it aside for the moment to sit and open up her sack, pulling out a metal tin with clasps that pop open easily. Showing off the portion of fish and rice within. Grandma's Recipe, easy to make and easy to use for any fish. 

Simple, but still good food and a thing to look forward do as she bites into a piece.

"Hmm. Still chewy." Fukushu had not yet mastered the recipe completely.