[h3][b]Rokoru Ishiara[/b]
/// [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f4iGZxO-8mw]Warakuma Shopping Complex[/url][/h3]
	“[color=red]I’m always enamored with the time we spend together, Akira.[/color]” Rokoru replied, baring his teeth slightly. Mika ran her hand through her bangs (accompanied by a deep sigh), causing several strands to fall onto her eyes. She quickly brushed them out of the way and Rokoru stirred in his seat when she did, an visable shiver slowly going through his entire body. It was a weird fascination but it really did it for him when she did that. In fact, ‘Turn Ons: Running Hand Through Hair Sexily’ was on a shirt of his, a gift from one of the guys on the team that had known of his secret kink. It was only a bolstering to his growing collection of embarrassing shirts.

His fingernails tapped against the table as he listened to Akira respond to Mika’s second question, and the answer given was cringe-y at best. Just a vague and obviously untrue response that only explained that he had accepted his reputation as Warakuma’s #1 Least Likable Person. “[color=red]Stop dancing around answering. Are you too embarrassed to reveal your faulty past?[/color]” The broad-shouldered boy donned a wide smirk. His confidence wasn’t the most convincing, but it was better than acting awkward and defensive around Akira. Rokoru slid his arms a little further onto the table, and peered out at Akira from beneath his lowered eyebrows. “[color=red]Though I suppose I could start the recounting. Just to get you into the mood to share.[/color]”

	“[color=red]I never really knew Akira until when we both ended up in the Archery club when we were first years. I didn’t care for him at the time, and neither did he I think…[/color]”

[center][. . . . .][/center]

[b]Monday, April 8th, 2013
After School[/b]

	Wearing a simple black shirt that advertised Dr. Salt, and a pair of worn blue jeans, Rokoru wandered into the Archery range. The high amount of upperclassmen in the range was partially intimidating to the teen, he already felt tall enough to not be automatically seen as some overly eager first year. Though, in a world of third years, there were still many, [i]many[/i] guys that stood over him. All he could do was pray that he’d get taller in the months to come. Rokoru felt good when he was one of the taller or tallest in a group, and the range was anything but comforting in that aspect.

	Rokoru shook the feeling off after a bit of emptily staring at everyone from the entrance. It was just practice: just shoot some arrows, make friends or something. He felt confident when he walked over to the shooting line, equipment slung over his shoulder. Stopping between a black haired boy and some random blonde girl he’d never seen before (presumably a second year or something), he prepared himself and his bow to start slinging shots, when he noticed the black haired boy getting bulls eyes with seemingly little effort. Rokoru stopped dead in his tracks, one hand on an arrow and the other grasping the bow. He recognized the boy as one of his fellow first years, and Rokoru considered confronting the boy about what he had just done. Insecurity lead him towards the idea, and after a bit of pondering, Rokoru firmly tapped the archer’s shoulder.

	“[color=red]Hey,[/color]” he started, “[color=red]I don’t think we know eachother, but I think I’m in your class or something. You’re a pretty good shot, huh?[/color]"