It was a crisp winter afternoon.

The classroom was quiet with the odd whispering between students as the teacher stood at the front of the room, reading from a book that was firmly held in his hands.

"And so we move on to the next chapter – Haruki, continue reading for us." The teachers voice rang out in the classroom.

When no response came, the teacher looked up from the book and his eyes searched through the throng of students till they locked onto a figure in the back of the class.

In the back of the room sat a tall broad shouldered male. His short bleached hair was gelled back with thin black strands at the front, his head tilted down to the desk in front of him – scratching his name into the desk with a broken pencil. It spells 'Haru' as he continues to carve his name.

"Haruki!" The teachers shouts.

The boy known as Haruki slowly turns his head up, a small noticeable scar runs over his right black eyebrow. His striking cerulean eyes are met with curious stares from the rest of the class as he sits up and leans back in his chair, showing off the lack of decorum he has for the school uniform – the top button undone and neck tie hanging loosely over his shirt. Both his ears are pierced with a black stud.

"What's up teach?" Haruki asks in a casual tone, the unbothered look on his face triggering the teacher's eyebrows into a twitching rage.

"Read the next chapter."

Haruki lets out a sigh but stands up in all his 6ft glory nonetheless, picking up the closed book on his desk and holding it in his hands. "Which chapter?"

"5, from the beginning." The teacher grits out, his anger slowly getting to boiling point.

The unbothered teen opens the book to chapter 12, his eyes scanning over the page. "In unificationist accounts of explanation developed by philosophers, scientific explanation is a matter of providing a unified account of a range of different phenomena. This idea is unquestionably intuitively appealing. Successful unification may exhibit connections or relationships between phenomena-" He speaks out in a slow languid pace.

"Ok, that's enough." The teacher halts him, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "Sit down."

Haruki closes the book with a clap and proceeds to sit back down, hunching back over and continuing to finish off scratching his name onto the desk.

Time flies by until the bell rings for the end of the day. The teacher walks out the room and students are packing up their things, but Haruki stays sat in place solely focused on his art. The door slides open with a loud thud and an equally boisterous voice calls out into the classroom.

"Haruki, let's go!" A red haired boy cheerfully calls out, his uniform crooked and green eyes sparkling with excitement.

Azumi was a friend of Haruki's, and one of the 'gang' that they were a part of. He was shorter than Haruki by a few inches, and cheeky by nature. There was 5 of them in total, all troublemakers that made their own rules and the same age. Their motto was 'stay out of our way and we stay out of yours'.

The bleached haired boy cranes his neck to face his friend before looking back down at his unfinished work. He lets out a huff, pushing himself out of the seat and stands up. He grabs his bag, swings it over his shoulder and heads over towards Azumi.

They stride down the hallway side by side, hands in trouser pockets as other students make way for them. Azumi leans forward turning his head to look up at Haruki with a grin. "Writing your name on another desk huh? There's only so many times they will replace your desk, Haruki."

"It's not like I asked them to give me a new desk." Haruki mutters out, his eyes remaining ahead of him as they turn the corner of the hallway and head downstairs.

"At least you won't forget your name this way." The red haired boy cheekily added.

Haruki shoves Azumi to the side without much force, leaving his friend laughing as he jogs back to his side.

They head out of the school building and walk towards the front gates. By the gates are three males. A blue haired boy leans against the gate with his arms crossed, a bulky dark skinned boy with long black hair crouches down by the gate and a chubby brunette boy stands with his hands by his sides.

Their heads turn towards Haruki and Azumi as they walk towards them. The blue haired boy frowns, his arms still crossed. "You're late."

Dena was another member of the 'gang'. His serious nature made sure they were well prepared for anything, brown eyes piercing through all bullshit. His well kept blue hair was his signature look.

Azumi points over to Haruki. "Blame this one."

"As usual huh." The milk chocolate skinned boy replies as he stands from his crouching position and bends forward with his hands placed on his back, stretching out.

Aoto was the experience of the 'gang'. He looked older than he was, so was able to procure them the goods whenever they wanted. The 'goods' were only magazines though. His roughish looks were defined by the beard he'd grown, with intense dark green eyes.

The round male nods his head in agreeance at Aoto's comment, crossing his arms over his stomach.

Hito was the last of the 'gang' and the silent one of the group – None of the others have ever heard him speak. Although he was bigger built than the others, he could outrun most sprinters when being chased. His beady eyes and whisker like moustache mirrored the fish he was named after.

These were the people Haruki called friends. They'd been together since the beginning of high school, over a year ago now.

"Come on, we've got a fight today remember?" Dena pushed himself off the wall by the gates, turning to face away from the others. "Don't want them thinking we're cowards."

Aoto cracks his neck left and right whilst Hito moves his hands like he's performing a ninja technique. Azumi punches his right fist into his left palm, grinning. "If they think we're cowards then we'll just have to show em' we're not." Azumi turns to look up at Haruki. "Right, Haruki?"

Haruki nods, cracking his knuckles and rotating his shoulders to loosen them up. Aoto, Azumi and Haruki stand behind Dena – who cranes his neck to stare at them with his usual serious expression. "Ready for a beatdown?"

The others nod their heads, all with different emotions on their faces. They head out of the gates, hands in trouser pockets and walk with an air of confidence.

"Hito did his usual disappearing act again." Azumi mentions to the others as they walk out the gates.

"He'll be at the meeting place, he always is." Dena replies, not turning his attention from the path in front of him.

Aoto turns to look at Azumi, who walks beside Haruki, a look of confusion on his face. "How does he just up and disappear like that? It's crazy!"

Haruki walks, his face disinterested at the looks of displeasure from the elders he sees on the opposite side of the road. "He's a ninja." He plainly says.

Azumi and Aoto turn their gazes over to the back side of the bleached haired males face with looks of wonder. "I guess he is." They then look to each other and just nod in confirmation.

***

Step by step they make their way towards the empty car lot where a group of males stand, as if waiting for their arrival. One of the males, who wears a biker jacket with tattoos running down his arms walks away from the group and towards Haruki and his friends.

Behind him are his gang mates, some of who are perched on motorbikes and others are stood in front of them with their arms crossed – looking threatening.

"Well, well, well, you actually showed up. Didn't think you'd have the balls." He mocks, wagging his finger in a way which aggravates Azumi.

"We'll show you what balls are!" Azumi takes a step foward, only to be grabbed by the shoulder and forced back by Haruki. "Haruki!" The red haired boy argues, but the taller boy shakes his head in defiance.

"Don't fall for the bait, idiot." His eyes stay focused on the tattooed male.

Azumi huffs in response, but doesn't move an inch. Dena takes a step forward, he places his hand on the red haired boys shoulder. "Leave this to me." He takes another step towards the tattooed male, his eyes narrow and serious. "What's the bet for this time, Kenta?"

The tattooed male, named Kenta, looks back briefly to his gang before turning back to face Dena. "We want Haruki to join our gang." His eyes flicker over to the bleached haired male.

Aoto, Dena, Azumi and Hito all blink their eyes, turning to look at Haruki who wears an unfazed expression on his face. Azumi points to the bleached haired boy.

"You want him?" Azumi asks incredulously, walking over to the boy and pokes him in the face with his finger. "This guy right here? Who has the facial expressions of a corpse?"

Haruki grabs Azumi's finger to stop him from poking his cheek, his face remaining neutral.

"We want him for his brawn not his ugly mug." Kenta replies waving his wrist about, not noticing Haruki's eyebrow twitch at being called ugly.

"Welp too bad, his ugly mug is ours!" Aoto calls out, wrapping his arm around Haruki's shoulder.

Azumi nods enthusiastically, alongside Aoto and Dena who nod once in solidarity. Haruki side glances over to his friends, his lips formed in a straight line and giving them the deadeye. "Thanks guys." He mutters.

The others all look to him with their own versions of a smile, Hito hiding in the back – Azumi's beaming the brightest.

"So, we fightin' or what?" Kenta beckons them with the back of his hand, his gang mates standing behind him.

Haruki, Azumi, Dena, Aoto and Hito all turn their heads to the side, their intense stares locking onto the biker gang. "Bring it on." They say in unison, Hito miming the words, dropping their bags onto the ground.

An intense fight begins.

***

Watching the biker gang stumble away beaten and bruised gives Azumi a sense of smugness as he bends forward and waves at the retreating figures.

"See ya next week!" He calls out. His slightly bruised face grins in victory when he straightens up and turns to his friends with a 'V' sign. "We did it guys!" The red haired male cheers out.

Aoto, who rotates his shoulder with a click, turns to face Azumi and grins back whilst pointing his forefinger towards him. He has a bloody nose and fists, but is otherwise fine. "You know it! And you don't look like shit this time." He laughs out as the red haired male pokes his own cheek and winces out.

"I guess I'm stronger than last time." Azumi beams with pride, flexing his arms in a show of strength.

"You got careless last time." Dena notes. "Last time you thought you could take on three at once." His sharp eyes turn to lock onto Azumi's green eyes. Dena's shirt is ruffled and dirty, his pristine hair tussled and hands bloody and bruised.

Azumi runs his hands though his hair nervously. "Yeah, not my finest moment." His eyes look to Hito. "But at least I don't stand at a distance and throw paper shurikens like Hito does!"

Hito doesn't have a bruise on his body, his clothes still in the same condition, as he shrugs his shoulders at Azumi's remark – his whisker like moustache flicking like a tail.

"They may not look it, but those paper shurikens are deadly." Haruki's voice calls out.

Azumi's gaze is focused on Haruki, his hair is still slicked back, a slight bruise on his cheek as he unknots his crooked tie and reties it. Viridian eyes unblinkingly stare at the bleached haired male, taking in his unfazed expression with secret awe.

Once Haruki has finished tying the knot around his neck he turns his attention to his friends, who's eyes are all on him as if waiting on his instruction. "Food?" He simply asks.

"Food!" Azumi jumps up on the spot, punching the air with enthusiasm.

They all grab their bags and walk away from the car lot with confident strides, heading towards their usual food place.

Azumi walks with a skip to his step, chanting the word "food" over and over whilst Aoto walks beside Dena and having a conversation about this new magazine he found. Hito is nowhere to be seen, but this is normal and they all know he's already at the stall.

"You gotta read it man, the women in this one are just picture perfect!" Aoto grabs the magazine from his bag and pushes it into Dena's chest.

"You mean they're all fake bimbos?" The blue haired boy quirks a brow, his disinterest known as he pushed the magazine back into Aoto's hands.

"Hey now, I don't go calling your 2D girls fake bimbos! Not cool." Aoto frowns as he places the magazine back into his bag.

They banter back and fourth as Haruki watches them from behind, his hands tucked into his trouser pockets. Cerulean eyes glance over at buildings as they walk by, not taking much interest but just looking around.

"Free trial!" A feminine voice calls out, gaining Haruki's attention.

His eyes take in the form of a girl with long chestnut hair that's tied into a ponytail as she stands in front of a building handing out flyers of some sort – the opposite side of the road. She's clad in a sailor school uniform, Haruki realises its some pep school of some sort. Rich girl, he notes.

He turns his head back to face in front of him and carries on following behind his friends as the sun begins to set.

***

They make it to the place – a ramen stand in a quiet part of the city. The place is empty except for Hito who is already sitting on one of the stools and slurping down his ramen.

Azumi doesn't wait for them as he seats himself on one of the stools and raises his hand. "The usual!" He orders out to the man behind the counter who's got his back turned to them.

"And why should I do as you say, punk?" The round older man turns around, ladle in hand and waves it about in front of Azumi with a frown etched on his ageing face. "No manners, no food." His white shirt is littered with grease marks.

The red haired male pouts, his face taking on the look of a kicked puppy. "Please may I have my usual order, kind sir?" He speaks out with a rich accent.

The older man turns back to the wok, rolling up his sleeves. "Much better, the quicker you punks learn manners the quicker you'll get what you want. Now the rest of you, sit your butts down." He flicks his wrist in a motion which tells the others to sit down.

Aoto sits down beside Azumi with Dena on his left whilst Haruki sits between Hito and Azumi.

"You boys got into a fight again?" The older man question as he turns his head to the side, his old brown eyes taking in the bruises on their faces and hands.

Azumi smiles sheepishly. "We might have? But we won so it's all good."

The older man shakes his head and sighs out in exasperation. "It's not my place to tell ya how to live, but fighting is only gonna get ya in troublesome situations."

"We can handle ourselves." Dena replies to him, drumming his fingers on the counter top in absentmindedness.

"You boys have got your whole lives ahead of ya, just make sure you don't end up like me alright?" He speaks out, turning around and placing bowls in front of Dena and Azumi. The both of them grab a pair of chopsticks and snap them open, digging into their ramen with vigour.

"I feel like owning my own ramen stand would be a plus." Aoto points out with a shrug of his shoulders. "Beats being jobless and you won't starve."

The older man bites back a laugh, huffing out as he continues to dish out the rest of the ramen. "The foods for the customers not for yourself."

"First you need customers." Azumi cheekily says, earning him a ladle to the head from the chef.

"I got you idiots ain't I?" He grumbles out as he walks over and places the last two bowls in front of Aoto and Haruki, locking eyes with the latter. "How'd you ever get yourself stuck with these numbskulls?"

"They just started following me around." Haruki simply says, picking out chopsticks, snapping them and chowing down on his own ramen.

Azumi spits out his food, a stray noodle clinging to his chin as he points his chopsticks over at Haruki. "That's not how I remember it!"

Haruki just flicks his hand, chopstick between forefinger and middle finger, at Azumi in quiet dismissal who in turn gapes at him with wide eyes. "Did you really just-"

"Just eat your damn ramen already!" The chef cuts the red haired male off. "If it gets cold I'm chargin' you extra!"

Azumi huffs but complies with the boss of the ramen stand.

In silence they dig into their ramen until it's all happily inside their bellies.

"Ah, that hit the spot – thanks boss!" Azumi pats his belly with a happy sigh. They pay for the food and stand from their stools.

"Good, now get your butts home before your families worry about ya!" The chef kicks them out of his stand and pulls the shutters over the counter.

Aoto places his hands over the back of his head and looks out to the darkening sky. "Welp, guess we're finding somewhere else to hang for a while."

Haruki shakes his head. "I'm gonna head home." He places his right hand in his pocket and walks off with a wave of his left hand. "See you tomorrow."

"Wait-" Azumi steps forward to grab Haruki's arm but Dena stops him. The red haired male turns to face the blue haired teen with a look of sombre. "But Dena-"

"Leave him be."

A hand on his shoulder makes Azumi turn to look at Aoto. "C'mon, let's go hit on some girls!" The dark skinned teen grins out at Azumi, making the shorter boy groan out in reply.

"Do we have to?"

With his arm around Azumi, Aoto drags him along with him as he raises his unoccupied arm in the air with excitement. "Tonight's gonna be our lucky night!"

Watching the red haired male resign himself to his fate, Dena followed along behind them already noting Hito's silent disappearance.

***

Haruki loved his friends, he really did, but he just wasn't interested in the nightly activities that they were. He much preferred to be in his room and just allowing the night to turn into daybreak. His lack of interest wasn't lost on his friends, but sometimes they just weren't able to understand why he was so disconnected.

With both hands now in his trouser pockets, Haruki walks down the same street that he'd been down earlier with the others. The first thing he notices is that the street is a lot quieter. Only the odd few people walk up and down the paths, either coming from work or heading off to the pubs.

His strides are slow but large in step as his eyes stay looking ahead of him. Most of the buildings are pitch black, work ending for the day and the places being empty, but as he turns a familiar corner one wide building on the opposite side from him is brightly lit inside and that draws the bleached haired males attention. He steps over onto the road and jogs over to the front of the building.

He stands in front of the large windows that stretched along the street. It was a wide new build that stretched half the street, it was almost like a community centre.

"Is this a new place?" He mumbles to himself, noting that he's never seen the name before when he reads the sign.

'Skate Parad-Ice' is written on the sign above the entrance. Haruki stares at it with unblinking eyes, having no comment on the name of the place. His striking blue eyes search through blinding lights through the glass to see if he can make anything out, and as his eyes get used to the brightness its blur turns into a mesmerising vision in which Haruki has never witnessed before.

His dull uninterested face opens into a wide eyed look of utter awe as he takes in the sight in front of him.

Inside the building was a large open ice rink with a lone female figure weaving along the ice with a grace that took the bleached haired boys breath away. She wore peach leggings with a light blue dress over the top, her long flowing chestnut hair was tied into a ponytail.

His eyes followed her every movement as chestnut hair whipped around her face and shielding it from view.

Haruki felt himself moving closer to the building, hands resting on the cool glass which separated him from the spectacle a short distance away as the female figure continued to manoeuvre herself on the ice, swaying left and right like a snake and hypnotising the male.

Her arms moved delicately around her, almost like a sway as she twirled around like a ballet dancer before arching her body backwards and flipping diagonally off the ice, landing in the same spot perfectly and spinning again.

As she came to a stop, her front was facing Haruki's gaze, her auburn eyes opened and blinked they locked onto the cerulean gleam of Haruki's. Her face took on a brief look of surprise before she turned her body away from him and skated away.

Haruki let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding, his heart beat thundering in his ears. He could feel his hands trembling at the sheer exhilaration he'd just witnessed.

"What was that?" He questioned. "Who was that?"

He rests his head on the glass and closes his eyes, trying to slow down the beat of his heart. He grips his shirt over his chest with his right hand.

He pushes back from the glass and his eyes look at the, now, fogged up window – his eyes drawn to a poster in the corner of the glass. "Free Trial?" Haruki speaks out the words written on the poster before looking once more through the glass.

Without another word he turns, places his hands back in his pockets and walks down the dark quiet road and towards home.

***

Unlocking the front door Haruki steps inside and flicks the light switch on, illuminating the small space that lies within. He kicks his shoes off and nudges them with his feet to push against the small step that leads into the living room/kitchen combo.

The room consists of a small table with four cushions neatly placed down in front, a counter top lies at the back, a sink with empty bowls line the inside with a square window above it – a fridge sits beside the counter with a microwave perched on the opposite side atop the counter.

It was a small but homey place.

Walking into the room Haruki's eyes lock onto a plate that's sealed with cling-film on top of the fridge. He steps over towards it and picks up the small note that sits beside it.

"Don't forget to eat – Aunt Aiko." Haruki mutters out the words scribbled on the note.

Haruki eyes glaze over as he stares down at the note, his Aunt was always thinking of him. He remembers when she accepted to take him in under her wing after a particular incident. He was eternally grateful to her.

With a shake of his head, he opens the fridge door and places the place of food inside the fridge. "Tomorrow." He says to himself as he closes the fridge and heads into his bedroom that sits on the right side of the room – his aunts on the left side and a small bathroom seated in the middle.

He steps inside his room and throws his bag aimlessly into the room before turning around and walking into the bathroom.

A small bathtub rests in the back corner with a toilet on the opposite side, a small sink and mirror situated between them with a rack of towels neatly tucked beside it.

Haruki makes his way towards the sink, gripping the sides with his bloody hands and stares at himself in the mirror. He blinks his weary eyes then ducks his head down, turning on the tap and running his hands through the water – washing away the blood. He watches the blood flow down the plug then gathers a hefty amount of water in his hands, splashing it against his face.

He grabs a towel from the rack beside him and pats his face down, then wipes his hands transferring smudges of blood onto the towel before discarding it into the basket near the door. The bleached haired male steps out of the bathroom and heads back into his room.

His room consists of a single bed, a desk and a wardrobe – a blank canvas portraying his disconnect from the world.

Haruki walks over to the wardrobe as he proceeds to undo the tie around his neck, letting it to fall to the floor, then popping open the buttons on his shirt one after the other. He pulls his arms out of the shirt and drops it to the floor, reaching his hand out to open the wardrobe and grab a black tank top and grey shorts.

His chest is littered with small bruises here and there, a noticeable scar runs over the left side of his ribs.

He gets changed, his clothes left a mess on the floor, and flops down onto his bed on his back – staring up at the ceiling with his usual dull expression.

The longer he stares, the more the sight of the ceiling changes into the scene he'd witnessed a while back in the ice rink. The chestnut hair skating along the ice, her twinkling auburn eyes meeting his. He blinks and the image is gone.

With a groan he places the back of his arm over his eyes. He can't get that image out of his head no matter how hard he tries.

He rolls onto his side, resting his head on his arm and shuts his eyes tightly. He opens one eye and stares into the darkness, glancing around until it meets with the clock on his desk. It reads '10:34pm'.

With a sigh he closes his eyes again and rolls over to face the wall.

"Not tonight." Is all he says as he will himself into a sleepless dream of an unnamed female.