When Getting A Hobby Makes It Worse

Shogo Narumi felt that he was the best at multitasking.

But this was not one of those prideful acclamations; he didn't even brag about this to anyone. This was something he kept to himself—for fear of unwanted questions—and something he had proof of.

He sat in the SP room, cutting a brunette mannequin's hair to fit the shape he thought best for his practicing. He focused intently on every cut, every layer. Evening out the sides and giving the mannequin graceful side-swept bangs. He concentrated viciously on the shape and direction of the hair. This was task number one.

Kei sat on his left. The redheaded boy crunched noisily on his snacks; one after another. Narumi was sure he would go mad if forced to listen to anymore of this distracting—not to mention repetitive—noise. It's bad enough with him crunching away on chips and cookies and various other things Narumi did think people should consume; in one day, or even at all. Yes, that was definitely bad enough, but no, Kei had to chip in with suggestions for Narumi's haircutting. 'That side seems a bit off Naru-Naru.' 'Her hair is shaped weird, don'tcha think?' 'Naru-naru, be careful! You're going to hack her hair to short!' It pissed him off even more when it was something he hadn't noticed himself. This was task number two.

Ochiai sat to his right. Ochiai was never too bad when it came to noise, he just clacked away constantly at his laptop, but Narumi knew it was for the SP, not himself. He didn't even bother him too much, his suggestions were always considering how he doesn't think that particular style would fit the head shape of this particular mannequin. It was an entirely different story, however, when Ochiai, for whatever reason, decided to be a goddamn prick. The manipulative young man only tended to do this when he was mad at Narumi, or if he was trying to make a point. Right now happened to be one of those times. 'Oi, Narumi, what's wrong with you today? You're making more mistakes than usual.' 'In a rut today, Narumi? Not something I expected of a genius.' This of course, when happening, annoyed him to no end, and hit just about every nerve that made him lose his temper in such ways that it was shameful. Ochiai was manipulative like that. This was task number three.

Iori and Taro prattled on aimlessly in one corner, off to the side. This would not be so aggravating had they not been having such a heated argument. Narumi tried not to concentrate on what they were saying, but it didn't help when they were being painstakingly loud. Something about a recent beauticians battle, he believed. Not one he participated in, he could tell, but one which Taro thought was unfairly judged, to which Iori countered that he was an amateur at such things and did not know true talent when he saw it. Taro of course threw back that he knew Kiri was a very talented beautician. Narumi cut off too much hair. He cursed to himself and adjusted the hairstyle in his head to fit the new accommodations. Which, of course, did not go unnoticed by Ochiai or Kei, thus a new stream of comments strung it's way from both of his friends. This was task number four.

His cell phone vibrated softly from where it rested in his pocket. This call he knew, was from his dad, as the last one had been, and the one before that. This was the constant reminder that he had to become greater; than his dad, than Osawa, than Billy, than all of them. He had to rise to the top and shoves his dad off his high perch. He had show his dad that he was better than—manipulation, inheritance, monopolizing, influence, extravagance—him. No matter what it took; his ultimate goal. He had to win, to beat him and anyone who thought he wasn't good enough to take the position of best in Japan. He would show them, sooner or later—sooner was preferred, and expected—especially her, who thought him insignificant, not worth listening to, who constantly ignored him. This was task number five.

He thought already that he had a lot to deal with. He knew though, that this wasn't even close to being half of it. His final, and probably most difficult task (next to the beating his father task) walked through the door, yawned and sat at the end of the table, directly across from him. Kiri Koshiba rarely ever came on time, showed him up nearly every time they had a beauty battle, and was constantly disrespecting him, so why did she effect him so much? He watched as a strand of her strawberry blonde hair sway as she breathed softly in and out, her head in her arms. Her milk chocolate eyes were closed in a way that made her seem peaceful. She looked very delicate when she slept, absolutely nothing like when she was awake; in fact, so much of a difference, that Narumi failed to grasp how these two totally separate personalities could be the same snarky mussy-head, he'd grown to know and- 'What's wrong Naru-naru-sempai?' His heart skipped a beat and he busied himself with his work, he would not think about her, he would not, he would n- he'd grown to know and-…and what? Love, of course. Love. It was very obvious, but he would not admit it, he would not. This was task number six.

Shogo Narumi undoubtedly believed that he had the right to say he was most definitely skilled at multitasking, more than anyone he could possibly know. He just couldn't brag about it, that was a given.