A Here is Greenwood fan fiction story
by Ukyou Kuonji
Disclaimer: Koko wa Greenwood is the creation of Yukie Nasu, and all characters and situations therein are the property of her and Hakusensha Inc., Victor Entertainment, and the Pierrot Project. No infringement is intended.
Some welcome back twice out in the hall for falling asleep in class (at least I'm not alone; everywhere you look, there's a Greenwood resident standing outside on bucket duty today. I think the whole dorm shoulda just called in sick), and a case of whaddyacall, 'syllabus shock', to electrocute a battalion.
I get back to the dorm, and there's Furusawa-sempai, whistling away as he works on his bike. Not a care in the world, he has not too bad, considering his state the last time I saw him.
"Hey, Shun-boy. Howzit going?"
"I've had better days " He grins knowingly. "But you're looking good. What, didn't you go to classes?"
"Nah, I went straight over to the infirmary once I got in. Doc Hasukawa took one look at me and promptly made sure I was excused for the day."
"Oh man, I'll just bet." I shake my head at the memory. "I mean, you looked like you'd been "
"Struck by lightning. Yeah. I was."
"No! Seriously?" Oh, man I just hope Ogata-sempai doesn't hear about this.
"Well not that seriously. I mean, both me and my bike survived, now, didn't we? Nah, I just got knocked clear of my bike, and landed in a ditch. Just sat there for a half-hour, and kinda limped the rest of the way back. Didn't know what kinda damage the bike took." He wipes a smudge off of the chrome, turns to me, and grins. "Guess not much."
I don't know the first thing about motorcycles who am I to argue with him? Besides, the thing looks beautiful, shining in the late August sun the way only a thorough wax job can make metal shine. "Yeah guess not."
His grin gets broader, and he reads my mind. "Oi, Shun-boy you wanna come with me and test this thing out? I know it looks good, but let's see how it runs."
Sempai doesn't have to ask me twice. "Sure, just let me change out of my uniform. Back in a jif."
I have no idea how fast we're going, but it's pretty darn fast. I'm clutching onto Furusawa-sempai as tightly as I can, and I've got my head resting between his shoulder blades so as to cut down on the wind in my face, but it doesn't help much. The wind is whipping my hair into my face and brushing my eyes I close them.
Furusawa-sempai's bike is pretty loud, but nestled up against him the way I am, it's not the motor I'm hearing in my left ear. It sounds kinda like a heartbeat
could it be sempai's?
It's got to be the pride in a job well done, the thrill of the open road, the sting of wind in his face. What else could it be?
He leans back against me as we take a steep rise. The smell of his leather jacket overpowers even the scent of gasoline and exhaust. I crack an eye open, and see people walking by on the street turning to look at us as we flash by.
Wonder what they're thinking sempai and I probably make a cute-looking couple
All of a sudden, I start to feel a little motion-sick. At least, I think it's motion-sickness. "Ano Furusawa-sempai?!" I practically have to scream over the roar of the engine.
I don't actually hear him reply. It's more like I can feel the vibrations of his voice as my ear is pressed against him. "Yeah?"
"How far are we from Ryokuto right now?!"
"I dunno a couple miles or so. You wanna head back?" He's a mind-reader.
"Yes! Please! Thank you!"
"Hey, no sweat."
He takes the next intersection as an opportunity to make a U-turn — at what feels like fifty miles an hour! I squeeze my leg up against him quickly to avoid scraping it against the asphalt, we're leaning over that much. And here I thought that heading back would relieve my motion-sickness.
Didn't quite manage to stifle a scream, either. And I think I may have offended Furusawa-sempai by doing so, too: "Hey, 'samatta? We're headin' back, just like ya wanted."
"Sorry! Not used to riding these things!"
"Ah, it's okay, Shun-boy. It ain't like it's somethin' ya do every day, after all. Hey," and his voice actually becomes audible as he pulls into a petrol station, "you think I should pick up a few brewskies for everyone over the weekend?"
I hop off quickly, hoping the queasy feeling will go away by being on terra firma for awhile (hey, the more firmer, the less terror), but the idea of drinking don't help much. "You're gonna pick up beer, sempai? No offense, but where are you gonna keep it for the next five, six days? I mean, it's only Monday."
He ponders this as he sticks the nozzle into the Yamaha's gas tank. "Mm, yeah, I guess you've got a point. Guess I'll have to make a run then. But I could sure use a beer after this trip in. Ya live through a lightning strike, it oughta be worth somethin'" And with that, he ambles off to pay the cashier — and buy himself that promised beer.
I just hope he waits till we get home to drink it.
Somehow I doubt he will.
Sure enough, he doesn't. "Sempai, could you at least hold off until we're home? Or at least, wait until we're stopped to chug that thing?" He's not even looking at the road as he pours the can down his throat, and it's starting to scare me.
"Oh, come on, Shun-boy, where's your sense of adventure? Have one on me, you'll forget about your fears."
Oh, hell if you can't beat 'em "Fine. How much do I owe ya for it?"
"Don't sweat it, Shun-boy. I'm in a good mood today. I've survived a lightning strike, and my bike still runs great. I'm invincible, you kidding? And just lookit that, willya?" That is the Tokyo skyline, bathed in the red-orange glow of the imminent sunset.
I'm still too jittery to bother with the proffered beer, myself. Sempai is holding onto the handlebar with only his right hand, but I'm keeping both my arms wrapped around him until we get back, thanks all the same. And if I close my eyes, maybe I can forget how he's driving and just enjoy the roar of the engine, the smell of leather and exhaust, the cooling feel of the wind around us, the yells of the others as we pull in
Oh, wow. We're back already. And we're surrounded.
"Hey, sempai, welcome back!" "Yeah, thanks."
"I heardja got hit by lightning, man!" "Yeah, I did." "Really? Wow, you don't look it."
"Oh, hey! Beer!" "Back off, that's my case, kid
" except for this one," which he is still holding in his hand for me. Somehow, I'm glad I kept my eyes shut.
Of course, now that I'm off the bike, I don't really need it. But it'd be impolite to refuse it, and anyway, why leave the others to fight over it? "Uh, thank you, sempai." I chug it. Ick, it's warm already. And under the disapproving gaze of a dozen dormmates, it's even more uncomfortable. Am I being polite or rude, here?
At this point, I just want to get it over with and get back to the room
where Suka-chan's locked me out!
To be continued.
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