There are no seconds or thirds, but not like it matters. Everyone sees one thing, and to them, that's all I am. A color. Oneshot.
A.N: All quotes are directly from the manga.
Or maybe, colorful.
I hear people use that word to describe me. Color...the first thing they see, the first thing they say. Not one person has ever met me without pointing out the obvious. Not one. Hell, even she said it. And she usually can say what I want to hear, but no one can be perfect; everyone slips at one point...
“It's really stuffy in here. I'll open the window," Yuki offered, walking across the room.
She stood in the doorway, wearing his clothes, her hands clasped in front of her. Flushed from nervousness, she smiled at the rat, though his back faced her. This house became her new home, but how would I know that? Girls..especially outsiders..the same words pounded into my head since I took my first breath of air.. Forbidden. Not Allowed. A girl should not have been in that house..so when she glanced up, hearing the roof creak, quickly followed by me crashing down, my mind set on that damn rat, why would I stop to check to see if any girls inhabited the house, or even that room?
Yuki turned from the window, not surprised to find me. He smiled smugly, completely unfazed by my entrance. That pissed me off.
"...Yo. Are you ready for me to break your neck...Rat-boy?" I felt cocky, because I knew I would beat him. After four months of training, he wouldn’t be able to touch me. But as I rubbed my shoulder, cracking it in the process, I heard it. Soft..gentle..but surprised. I chose to ignore it, to focus on Yuki, but it still hung in the air..those simple words...
"Wh-who... Well, hello, orange-head..."
I hate it. The color, my color. It makes me different. Already an outcast in the zodiac, but now in society, too. Color makes me the butt of all jokes, igniting my temper, which also has been labeled colorful, or at least my vocabulary, anyway... I grew to hate school and the people in it. Growing up different than everyone else, always picked on, my childhood couldn’t have been worse...
I sank lower in my chair, ignoring the footsteps nearing the desk. Turning my head away from the principal, I stared at the ground. Being kept after school did not fly well with me, but I had to stay, for Shishou if not for myself. I created enough trouble for him, already.
The principal crossed his arms in an attempt to intimidate me. "Why do you try to solve things with violence? All they did was tease you about your hair color. Your father is on his way here..."
When I transferred to Yuki’s school, it took some time for the students to learn my name. Being called Yuki's Cousin sucked, but being pointed out by my hair sucked worse. Of course no one asked for my name, or anything. Not like I wanted them to. Girls surrounded me, I felt cornered. They hovered over me, sat by me, stood behind me, talked in my face, I felt a nervous wreck. What if one got too close?
"Where?! Where is he?!"
I sat in my assigned seat, muscles tensed, avoiding all eye contact. The room swarmed with girls! Why did Yuki attend this school? And why did he have to be so god dammed popular? Everyone just had to meet Yuki’s cousin.
"Look, over there! The guy with the orange hair,” one student said, pointing in my direction.
"Is that his natural color?" another one asked.
"His hair is certainly interesting."
My color continues to follow me through school, past the first impressions, not going unnoticed by teachers and students alike. Countess times have I been told to dye my hair back to its "original color", and my color even comes to the point of replacing my name. I am not proud of the nicknames given to me, or the threats of dying my hair. I find both rather bothersome, and annoying.
That yankee thug, Uotani. I don't think she ever said my given name once. Always Orange-top or Orangey. And like I said, my own teachers wouldn't give my hair color a rest...
Valentine's Day never proved to be anything spectacular for me. The day always brought trouble, pain, and my body getting knocked unconscious...all by the courtesy of Kagura. I completely forgot about the date, so Saint Valentine really snuck up on me and whacked me in the back of the head. I sat in class, minding my own business when this girl I never talked to came out of nowhere, holding a bag of chocolate in her hands.
"Kyooon-chan!! Here! This chocolate is for you!"
My eyes widened in surprise. Chocolate meant... Two guys came up to me, saying something about being lucky. I'm not really sure what they said, I didn't pay attention to them. Images of Kagura kept flashing through my mind. Her punching me, squeezing me, throwing me, holding me, kicking me...
"...Today...Valentine's...Day?" I asked, feeling very nervous. I had to leave. She would find me for sure.
"Huh?" one of the boys replied. "No, it's tomorrow. Don't you have a calendar?"
I ignored him. My mind worked on overdrive. Home. I had to get home. No...that would be too dangerous. She’d look for me there. That meant..a journey! Yeah! I would take a nice, long journey! I jumped out of my seat, heading for the door, but I never got much farther. My teacher walked in, deliberately smacking me with her folders in the process (and people say I'm violent).
"Are you trying to cut out on homeroom? Punk." She smirked at me as I grabbed my face. Damn, it stung.
"Sensei..you meddling...!" I started, but she interrupted me.
"Oohh? What makes you think you can talk to me like that, Orangey?" Without missing a beat, she pulled a box out of her desk drawer. Holding it up, she continued, "I'm ready to dye that hair of yours black at any time...with this!! "Let's Dye Our Hair!""
A color. People see me as only a color, only for my hair. I didn't pick my hair color, I didn't pick my birth. Believe me, if I could have, I would have picked black like everyone else so I'd blend in and people would leave me the hell alone.
Though, I will admit that once, I didn't mind being recognized by my hair, or being referred to as a color. I actually felt...good, about my originality, my uniqueness. He didn’t look down on me, but with a look of...admiration? Adoration? The memory may be fuzzy to him, since it happened so long ago, but I know I'll always remember.
Our exchange of words took a turn for the worse, and I'll accept the blame, but that's beside the point. What matters...what really matters...even if he didn't know it...I didn't feel labeled, I didn't feel like I became another joke. What he said surprisingly didn't have any hints of hate in it, despite him being my life long enemy. And though we don't get along today, Yuki, I'll never forget our first meeting, your first words...
"What a...pretty orange color."