The classes were boring today. As they have been yesterday, and the day before. Mizuki never liked learning, but always did out of obligation and to keep her perfect image in the eyes of teachers and those students, who didn't know her that well. Back when these things mattered. Back when she still had a normal life, and a normal, functional body, she used to be a top of the class, honor student, an example many looked up to. However, the accident changed everything. She naively believed that she can make a new life at Yamaku, but that faith has been shattered almost instantly on the arrival. This place is sick, and so are the students ,and so is the omni present atmosphere. This is not a school, this is a hospital. Why should she try to be the best? There is not point if being a queen of retards, the best of the worst!

It's been several weeks already, and she didn't try paying attention even once. During the classes, she usually sat attentively, looked straight in teacher's direction and doodled random geometrical figures in her notebook, pretending to make notes. Geometrical figures was all she could draw, as her dominant, right hand was pretty much useless and she couldn't draw well with the left one yet. Not that she ever will-art was never her forte. Rather, the pointless, black-on-white geometrical figures, question marks and straight lines were an expression of boredom, irritation and discomfort, that accompanied her thorough her entire stay in Yamaku so far. She was sited right next to the window, but she never looked up. In fact, she wished she was sited away from it. The windows were way too big, the rooms were way to bright, and there, beyond the window, was an omnipresent, green scenery that made her feel sick, and homesick. She missed Tokyo. She missed the high sky-scrappers, and the crowds of people, and the fashion, and Shibuya. But of course, the life of Tokyo's famous youth district was beyond her reach, now that her body was the way it is. It used to be depressing back in the hospital, being so close to all these things, yet so far. Mizuki thought that staying away from the city will be less painful then not, but she was wrong, and she wanted to go back, and be free from this place, or this sick existence. Forvever. 

Of course, such wishes could never be granted. The only freedom she was granted, was the freedom from this class, announced by the loud ringing of the bell, familiar tune snapping her back to reality. Mizuki did that often, lately-thinking about her miserable condition, wishing to be somewhere else, hating on her surroundings. For other people, it looked like she was "day dreaming", but to her, it was more akin to "day-nightmaring", if she was to call it anything at all. Supporting herself on the crutch, she slowly made her way out of class. Slowly. Not that she had a choice, going fast was literally impossible. That was one thing that didn't bother her in the slightest, as she was never a big fan of running and physical exercise, unpleasnatries that her accident had liberated her from, which was probably the only good thing about the entire situation. 

Tap, tap, tap. Her goal was the library. Tap, tap tap. She made her way through the crowds of students, glancing left and right, observing every one of them individually and all at once. She delighted herself in spotting those who looked to be in a worse condition then herself-like that girl on the wheelchair who looked like she's two legs in grave already, pun intended. No matter how badly Mizuki felt about herself, at least she was alive and not dying-which can't be said about some of the other students, much to her amusement. However, those who looked well and didn't seem to miss anything in their body were unforgivable, and Yamaku had a fair share of such students, too. Why were they even here? They probably had some internal issues, and most of them, she bet, could lead normal life(unlike herself, for example). She'd much rather they weren't hear. She'd much rather have them disappear and be left with the ones with prosthetic limbs, crutches and wheelchairs, like she originally imagined it to be. The existence of these other..healthy..students was a shadow on her self-confidence. 

Like for example, that giant red haired girl walking straight into her...eh? 
There was a frontal collision, and one that couldn't possibly end well for her. Not only was her opponent at advantage(much, much taller, bigger, faster etc.), but more importantly, Mizuki was walking with a crutch, and it was hard to support herself as she was. Even a small push would be enough to bring her down-at this was much, much stronger then a small push. It felt more like a close encounter with a tsunami. Down, down she went, spinning round and round in the air, before landing face-down with a loud *thump* mixed with a louder *splash* and then loud *thump* again as her nemesis herself followed the fate of her victim shortly afterwards. Mizuki considered herself lucky that her crutch and right arm were bound together with several, thick, medical straps, that they often used in hospitals, cars, and mental facilities. Otherwise, she'd doubtlessly lose hold of it, and crawling on the ground, looking for a crutch or(even worse), asking someone to help her with that would be too much for her sense of pride and general self-respect to handle. 

Supporting herself with the crutch and using her healthy hand to manually pull her paralyzed leg up, she slowly rose up, disregarding the irritating sounds the red-haired giant made behind her. After getting up, and checking that her clothes are in order(she was wearing one of the longer skirts, fortunately..dread to think what could have been exposed to the public eye should she had chosen to wear the shorter version), Mizuki finally turned around, to give a piece of her mind to the source of her misfortunes. 
"[i]Die[/i]"-was the only thing she had to say to that disorderly delinquent. Her voice cold, a mixture of hatred and disgust. From her experience, tall girls were more often then not, airheads and blissfully unaware of what a spectacle they sometimes make of themselves with their height and what not-and this one, seemed to be no different, unfortunately. Making apologies like her life depended on it. Duh. If Mizuki was healthy and well, she'd, no doubt about that, give the red hair a piece of her mind. But Mizuki wasn't healthy and well, and thus, she was careful not to lose hold of herself, too much. However, she was no angel(although she definitely used to be one) and her patience had it's limits. How the situation progressed from now on, depended solely on the actions of her villain.