"So, tell me, dear. What exactly happened on that bus?"

Looking up into the face of the police women who sat on the other side of the desk, I took in her complexion. She appeared rather young with her babyish face and her dark hair was pulled back into a taut bun. She held a pen to her notepad, her blue eyes scrutinizing.

"Well," I started, shifting in my seat.

The lady rose an eyebrow at me. My lips were set in a straight line. I was just about to fold my arms across my chest when shrill pain surged up my left arm. I winced, rather bluntly, but I suppressed the urge to scream as I let it drop.

"What's your name?" the lady drawled, oblivious to my turmoil.

"Reina Kikuchi," I responded, letting out a breath.

She bobbed her head. "Okay, Miss Kikuchi, I'm Officer Nami."

"Nice name," I complimented.

"Thank you." The corners of her lips upturned. "So, do you want to tell me what happened?"

I shook my head. "I'd much rather go home. It's seven o' clock and I still haven't done my homework."

"Are you serious?"

"Do I not sound like I am?"

At my uncooperative behaviour, Officer Nami sighed, leaning back in her seat. She dropped her pen, narrowing her eyes. She seemed to be analyzing me, and I gulped uncomfortably.

"Okay," I started slowly, "I can tell you. But is this really necessary? Didn't you hear the story from that bus driver?"

She smiled. "I did. Though, it is the police's duty to hear the voices of as many witnesses as we can."

I knew she had a point. "I guess..."

She reached for her notebook. "So?"

Exhaling, I opened my mouth. "I... entered the bus right after school. It was heavily crowded, and I got bounced around a bit until finally landed on a seat. I thought I was lucky and was just about to pull out my phone to pass the time, when I heard growling from behind me. I turned around to check why and that's when I realized I wasn't sitting on a chair, but rather, somebody's lap..."

The officer had no change of expression whatsoever and despite hoping that the information was sufficient, she only continued to stare at me attentively. She must've been used to hearing confessions a lot.

I continued to explain the story in as much detail as I possibly could. As I finished telling her about the Miyabi, the frivolous brunet, as well as the indifferent passengers and bus driver, she cut me off.

"Miss Kikuchi, back to the guy you sat on, can you explain him a little more clearly?" she asked.

She was probably trying to catch him. I pursed my lips thoughtfully.

"Um... I guess his hair was parted to the right side. It wasn't spiky... more messy, but the tanginess of the colour did remind me of an orange," I said, recalling back to the time. "His eyes were a really piercing grey, too— somewhat like how the clouds are when it's about to rain—"

I stopped myself before I finished. My face grew hot. Wait, didn't I stare at him for a few seconds? How was I explaining him better than I explained the entire story?

"Hmm."

At her distracted hum, I gandered at her. "Is something wrong?"

She peered up from her notes with a frown. She rubbed her chin. "That description..."

"What about it?" I inquired.

"The station is already familar with him," she answered. "One person comes to complain about him every day. At least, it's been that way for years. As of late, his wrongdoings have been rather quiet, but I swear that troublemaker causes trouble wherever he goes."

I blinked. What? So he was notorious? It explained a lot. He must've spent a lot of time fighting considering how easily he scowled at me and flung me to the ground.

Catching my puzzlement, Officer Nami let the notepad and pen fall. "You said you went to Akelius Academy, correct? He actually goes there too."

My eyes almost bulged from their sockets. "He goes to my school?"

It was an afterthought, but technically speaking, it wasn't much of a surprise. My school was famous for its delinquent number. There were countless notorious delinquents who attended, the most notorious being Raidon Tsuki—

I fought a shiver at the recollection. That guy was terrifying, and the entire city knew it.

The lady was contemplative but she soon came with an answer, "Yup. His name's Ryu Iwasaki."

The name left me blinking. It was the same that brunet—Miyabi—had mentioned. Though, even now, it wasn't capable of making me cower in fear.

Iwasaki? I'd heard of numerous bad boys in my school despite never seeing them in person. Like Los Sakamoto, Aizen Kitawa, Rudolph, Keisuke Yamasaki, Aki Mitsoyu, etc. Every other delinquent just cast in their shadows because they were your stereotypical idiots who got into unworthy fights.

That guy who assaulted me on the train was menacing, but I guess it was wrong of me to assume he'd be someone infamous.

Nevertheless, the fact of the matter was, he was a delinquent. One who attended my school.

I pursed just mouth, peeking downward.

One who, beyond a shred of doubt, sprained my arm.

But I should be grateful for it, shouldn't I? He could've done a lot, lot worse.

"You're not surprised?"

Startled at my levelheadedness, I turned to find Officer Nami bug-eyed and slack-jawed.

"Not really," I dismissed. "My school's full of of delinquents. Plus, I've never heard of him. He sounds like quite the handful, though."

Inhaling to gather her poise, she reclined in her chair. "You must have it tough there," she eventually noted.

I returned a gentle shrug. "It's all right."

She laughed. "Have good friends there?"

"No," I replied flatly, "I don't."

The sudden downhill the conversation went and caused an awkward silence. I was always good at doing that.

"The school isn't exactly one you can make friends in," I elaborated, rising to my feet.

"Wait," she quickly called.

I stared at her only to see the concern reflected in her eyes.

"If you need to talk..."

"I'm fine."

"Are you—"

"Positive? Yes." I spun around. "Can I leave now?"

Hesitantly, she bobbed her head. I ambled towards the doorway.

"Thank you for your time, Miss Kikuchi!" she called after me.

"And thank you for nothing," I mumbled to myself as I zigzagged through the station. I avoided eye-contact with the officers who were idly chatting, overhearing a few conversations from other males and females talking to an interrogator like I did.

Right as I stepped outside, a gust of cold wind nipped my face. I shivered, pulling my jacket up tighter. Ugh, I hated December.

Marching through the thin snow, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell. Glancing down, I sighed at the time displayed. Eight o' clock exactly—just perfect. My eyes glazed over the missed calls and texts from my family members. I was just about to click my mother's name when my body accidentally crashed into somebody ahead. I lurched back, eyes wide, and the person in front of me halted. The male—six foot tall probably—rotated his head in my direction. Once my eyes snapped onto his face, my jaw collapsed.

"Huh?" he murmured, furrowing his eyebrows and leaning his head down to my height. His grey eyes were darker because of the night, but his bright orange hair was still the same as I remembered it. "Aren't you going to say sorry?"

Colour drained from my face. My heart stopped.

Crap. It was him again.

Good thing I wrote my will two years ago.