A/N: Okay, this is Realistic Fiction. The same story. It got removed again, so I've created a new account! Wootness! Now, with a new account, it may throw the bastard off.
Thouroughly revised, by the way. Very thouroughly.
Each and every review gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling, even if you have nothing to say other than, "I read it," or, "It's okay," or even, "This is just stupid." Just let me know, every chapter. Am I begging? Yes. The over fifty reviews I originally got for this fic only made me appreciate them more.
I was grinning ear to ear. Metaphorically, that is. I don't think my mouth can stretch that far... but that's beside the point. What I'm trying to get at here is that I was very, very happy.
Now, at this point, I can only assume that you're wondering why it is that I was so happy. The answer is: Aya-chan was going to Japan! Well, actually, I was already there, which made it even better. I was only in my sophomore year, yet there I was, among the exchange students. I had learned Japanese exceptionally quickly; I had been teaching myself outside of school as well, after all, and had been wanting to learn the language for over two years by the time I enrolled in high school.
My efforts had finally paid off, though it had previously merely been a fantastic dream of mine to go to Japan. I got lucky.
I suddenly laughed, causing everyone except my fellow Americans to stare. My classmates had, after all, long since gotten used to me. To be completely honest, people had been staring long before I laughed. It probably had something to do with my happy dance. Looking back, it's a wonder I managed to hop around in circles swinging my arms, considering the 82-pound luggage I was carrying. I must say, it wasn't my best performance, but amazing, nonetheless.
As I started to feel dizzy, I came to the conclusion that it would be a good time to stop "dancing" and ask the question that had been plaguing my mind for the past ten minutes or so, ever since we got off the plane. Brushing my wavy, dark brown hair off my face for the millionth time, I strolled over to our Japanese supervisor, as our American one had long since wandered off in search of a restroom. "Excuse me, sir," I politely said in his native language.
The middle-aged man looked at me, startled that I was suddenly so calm. "Oh. Ano, yes?"
"When might the superintendent from the school arrive?"
"Any minute now, Miss."
"Oh." I was silent for a moment or two, then, "What school will we be attending, anyway?"
I frowned, and asked without thinking, "Is that not a private school?"
He looked startled again, then smiled. "I'm surprised you knew. Yes, its full name is Meiou Private Academy. We started the exchange program with your school a few years ago, because all the public schools in the area already had an arrangement with a school in America. Your school asked us if we wanted to give it a try."
"Oh," I repeated. "(Well, this is certainly an interesting development. I had no idea it was a real school,)" I muttered in English.
"Nothing." I shrugged, smiled at the supervisor, and wandered back to the cluster of benches my classmates had claimed. I sat on the end of a bench at the edge of the group, setting my luggage beside me, and I got that far-off look I sometimes get when I'm feeling reserved. Most people assume I'm thinking deeply about something. This is occasionally true, but usually, I'm really just daydreaming, or not thinking about much of anything at all, which was currently the case. I didn't trust myself to start daydreaming; not now, when I had just found out that I would be going to the same school as the fictional Kurama.
"Ah! Finally!" I heard the supervisor say a few minutes later. I looked up. Another man was walking towards him with a group of about fifteen people following behind.
"Sorry I took so long, but you know how it is."
"With last-minute changes, courtesy of our principal?"
"No, with last-minute drill sessions, courtesy of my wife." The two men laughed together at what I assumed to be an inside joke because it wasn't very funny, then approached the seven of us. "Hello, nice to meet you all! These kind people, all with children of their own in Meiou Academy, have volunteered to house you kids during your stay in Japan. Now, listen closely as I read off your names, because it's more than likely that I'll mispronounce at least a few of them, okay? Good." One by one, we were introduced to our temporary caretakers.
Mine was the fifth name called. I walked towards the kind looking woman and man that looked like his name should be Ted that waved at me. I bowed when I reached them. "Nice to meet you."
They bowed in return. "Hello, nice to meet you, too, ah..." The woman frowned, trying to remember my name.
I giggled. "Please, call me Aya."
The both looked relieved. "Well, Aya-san," said the woman, "You may call me Shiori, and this is my husband..." She told me his name, but I could never remember it, and I still don't. To me, he has always been Ted. I really don't know why...
The car ride back to their house was uneventful, so I'll skip that.
Actually, no, I won't, because that would just be one of those random scene changes that I try to avoid.
We got in the car. It was white. I sat all by my lonesome in the back. Ted drove. We were in the car for a while. We pulled into a driveway in front of a house and stopped. We got out of the car. We walked to the front door. Someone opened the front door. We entered the house with the driveway with the car that was white in which I had sat all by my lonesome in the back while Ted drove to the house.
"Shuichi! Shuichi! We're back!"
At the sound of Shiori's voice, two boys looked up; one from the TV, the other from a book.
I tried very hard not to notice how gorgeous the latter was.
"Hey! It's a girl!" said the one that had previously been watching TV. "...I don't know whether to be happy or disappointed."
"Shuichi! Manners!" reprehended the man I thought of as Ted. Shuichi grinned apologetically, then went back to the TV. Okay, so that one was pretty much a typical preteen boy. I smiled slightly, then looked back to where the other boy was sitting... had been sitting... he wasn't there anymore...
Oh, there he was. Right in front of me. Perhaps I should have noticed him there earlier. He bowed, a light smile gracing his already alluring features. "Pleasure to meet you. I am Shuichi."
I smiled and bowed in return. "Nice to meet you, Shuichi. I am Aya." At such close proximity, I had a little more difficulty in ignoring his good looks. Suddenly I frowned. "Wait a second- I thought he was Shuichi," I said, throwing a pointed glance in Typical Preteen Boy Shuichi's direction.
Gorgeous Shuichi in front of me appeared to be somewhere in between amused and apologetic as Preteen Shuichi snickered. "Yes, well... he is," confirmed Gorgeous Shuichi. "It might be a little confusing."
I laughed. "Is okay. I'm used to being confused."
Shiori smiled. "Well, now that we've all been introduced, Shuichi, dear, why don't you show Aya to her room?"
"Yes, mother. This way, Aya," said Gorgeous Shuichi. Typical Boy Shuichi seemed to have forgotten about me and was fully reabsorbed into Dragon Ball Z.
As we reached the stairs in the other room, Gorgeous Shuichi eyed my luggage. "Do you want me to help you carry that...?"
I beamed. "No, I am okay!"
He looked doubtful. "Are you sure? That luggage looks to weigh as much as you do."
"Oh, it does not," I said, starting my ascent. "Weighs 23 pounds less." Take note that I was still not used to using the metric system so much. Also take note that the above was a true statement. I had done the math in my head, after all. (Really.)
"I see..." I could practically visualize a large sweatdrop forming on his forehead.
After what seemed like ages but was actually probably only about a minute and a half, we reached the top and Gorgeous led me down a short hall, then pointed out a door to me. "In there. That will be your room."
"Thank you." I opened the door with my toe and entered. There was a bed, a closet, a desk and chair, and a bedside table. Basically, it was a typical bedroom, just as typical as the preteen boy downstairs watching DBZ. I proceeded to drop everything on the floor in the middle of the room and sat down on the bed. "Nee, Aya's sleepy."
Gorgeous Shuichi smiled from the doorway. It occurred to me that he had been smiling in his polite and empty way the entire time. "Jet lag?"
"Yeah." I paused for a moment, thinking. Well, pretending to think, anyway. "Ne, Shuichi-san?"
"Yes, Aya?" I felt a little lightheaded.
"Do you mind if I give you a nickname? To prevent confusion?"
"Hm." I yawned. "How about Kitsune?"
"Kitsune?" The smile disappeared for a fraction of a second. One would only notice had they been looking for it, and I had been. I saw it, clearly, like a big, flashing, bright red warning sign against a gray background. And, as I had suspected, he regained his composure quickly. "Why Kitsune?"
I waved my hand vaguely. "I do not know. There is just something about you that screams 'fox.'" I suppressed a smirk. "You seem surprised."
"I... have a friend that calls me that." Also as I had predicted, he had not tried to deny that he was surprised. Apparently he realized that if I had seen it, pretending I was imagining things would only lead to suspicion, and I had a 'feeling' that a nosy, foreign female was the last thing he wanted to worry about at the moment.
"Mm." I yawned again. "Well, I'm going to take a nap."
Gorgeous nodded. "Someone will wake you up for dinner."
With that, he closed the door, I assume he walked away, and I fell asleep.
I ignored Typical Boy Shuichi's not-exactly-polite voice.
I rolled over.
I covered my head with my pillow.
"Oi, wake up."
"Aya, wake up!"
A frustrated Typical growled slightly. "Get up!"
"...Nee, Aya's sleepy..."
He sighed. "I don't care. Shiori-san sent me up here to get you, and I'm not going back down without you."
"...Mm... five more minutes... school isn't for another twelve hours..."
"This isn't for school, it's for dinner!"
I sat up. "Dinner?"
Typical rolled his eyes. "Yeah, dinner. Are you getting up, or what?"
"Yeah, I'm getting up!" I stood up and stretched a little.
"Good, now come on. Shiori-san's gonna be wondering why I'm taking so long."
I ran my fingers through my hair as I followed him. "You call her Shiori-san? Is she not your mother?"
"Stepmother. My dad remarried last year."
"Oh. So is the kitsune Shiori-san's son, then?
"Yeah." He paused. "Wait, who's the kitsune?"
I laughed, now wide awake. "Your stepbrother's new nickname."
I followed him downstairs, thinking to myself how this random, pointless little scene here is mostly filler. Then I wondered to myself what the hell I was thinking about. It's not like this is a fanfiction, or anything. Gosh, no.