Disclaimer: I don't own The Girl Who Leapt Through Time.
"Makoto, you look hideous today." It was Chiaki. Makoto stared at his unusually pale face as he made his way to the window seat diagonal to her. His voice sounded normal, but he looked like he was also coming down with a cold.
"Right back at you," Makoto muttered. Finally giving into her fatigue, she put her head down. It wasn't long before she was reminded of what made runny noses so annoying, and began sniffing.
"Hey, Makoto." She lifted her head back up and noticed Chiaki's hand dangling a piece of tissue paper in front of her.
"Thanks." She grabbed it, wiped her nose, and proceeded to crumple it up. Only after did she notice there wasn't a box of tissues in sight. "Wait… where did that come from?"
"My pocket. I stuffed a few in there before leaving for school." Makoto's fatigued expression transformed into one of disgust. "What? It's clean, stupid!"
"Evil, be gone!" With a flick, she sent the tissue ball flying at Chiaki. It hit his right arm before he could react.
"That was childish," Chiaki lectured.
"I agree," came a familiar voice.
"You're late, Kousuke." Chiaki tweezed the tissue ball back up and tossed it onto the desk right in front of his. "I punish you with Makoto's germs."
"That was childish," Makoto lectured back. She swiped the ball from Kousuke's desk before he arrived and tossed it into the garbage can at the front of the classroom. "She shoots, she scores!"
Chiaki stared at her in disbelief. Is she really sick?
"We're not in gym class," Kousuke said as he sat down. Out of his bag, he revealed a case containing a pair of rectangular, dark blue framed glasses. He slowly put them on, oblivious of the two pairs of eyes fixated on him.
"Kousuke…" Chiaki pointed at him in awe.
"When did you get glasses?"
"It looks good on you," Makoto complimented.
Just then, the mathematics teacher pompously waltzed in, tests clutched in his hand.
"Oh, so that's why you two showed up today."
"Hey, I would have been here regardless," Chiaki defended. That much was true. Since he transferred, Chiaki hasn't missed a single class. Makoto rubbed the back of her head, ashamed that she would have skipped in a heartbeat had there been no test. Kousuke took notice of the shame written all over her face and shook his head in disappointment.
"Makoto, you really gotta-"
"You really gotta start taking classes more seriously," Makoto finished. "Yeah yeah, I know. I'll start after I feel better."
A stapled package of paper hit their desks. "Okay class, you have 75 minutes starting… now." Complete silence befell the room. 75 minutes of thinking for Kousuke, struggling for Chiaki, and torture for Makoto.