Say what you like about the bustling students of Yamaku; any noise that distracts me from the cicadas is music to my ears. The din in the hallway is enough, accompanied by the humid hot air, to keep the buzzing in check. As usual, I’m one of the first students out of 3-3 or any other class.
 
I wonder if 3-2 has the same day-ending race to the door. Just imagine a bunch of blind kids all fumbling and tripping over themselves, wondering where the door is, ending up in a pile of white-and-green-clad bodies.
 
Hm. With that ending, it doesn’t sound so bad. Especially with that Satou girl in the middle somewhere.
 
The buzzing intensifies. I massage the area around my ear, not to lessen the noise, but to lessen the pain. Nothing can truly stop the cicadas.
 
Failing at what medication can do, I walk to the side of the hallway and lean against the wall, where I take out the small container, twist off its lid, and swallow point four grams of ibuprofen. In addition to the point eight at lunch and point eight in the morning, I’m at over half my daily limit.
 
I adhere to the three point two gram limit on good days. On the rest, I just end up queasy or lethargic in the afternoon. Until a week or two ago, that was most of the time, but I’ve been doing well recently. Yesterday was just a minor slip-up.
 
Painkillers entering my bloodstream, I rejoin the now-thickening crowd and walk towards and then into the art room.
 
Saki, Ikki, and Kuon all beat me here. The former two have their typical smirks on. I approach my seat, fourth corner of our square, sharing a table with Ikki. When I throw my pencil-bag and sketchbook onto the table, he turns towards me with a start. Not that it can wipe away his infuriating, perpetual, toothy grin.
 
“‘Ey, Takashi!” he says as I sit down. I feel a drop of spittle land on my hand. Wiping it off, I grimace and answer with a groan. His grin widens as he laughs at my pain. “You heard the latest?”
 
I turn towards the center of our group and lean back against the table. “Everything but.”
 
Ikki’s eyes narrow at my admission of failure to keep up with this school’s efficient rumor mill. Combined with his smile, it gives the impression of confidence. “You’ll never guess who this one’s about.”
 
“Probably not,” I say, rolling my eyes.
 
We’re almost perfect opposites. His smile disappears as often as mine appears; he’d never wear a stylish hat if his life depended on it; he’s never checked out a girl in his whole life. Maybe he just hides that last one well.
 
He leans in conspiratorially, as does Saki, her smile slightly less toothy and a thousand percent cuter. “It’s Rin!” she whispers. “She was hanging out with the new guy all day yesterday!”
 
“Rin? Hanging out?” I whisper back. “Is that even possible?”
 
Saki giggles, slithering her torso side to side in the joy of our shared interest in gossip. I don’t actually know which of us started the activity or how Kuon got roped into it when he joined the club. He’s more of the silent observer type, but when he does contribute, it’s because his keen ears have picked up a detail that eluded the rest of us.
 
“Pretty crazy, right?” Saki says. “They weren’t even doing anything. Just sitting on the ground, against the wall, near her mural.”
 
Ikki speaks up. “I saw ‘em there at, like, one o’clock. And then I came back in the evening,” he gestures with his hands as if they’ll help me understand, “and they’d both just fallen asleep, right there!”
 
Kuon leans in and whispers, “I heard Rin somewhere else, actually. Asking for help with some, ah, feminine needs.”
 
Saki gasps and leans backwards, eyes wide, maybe in sarcasm. “Scandalous, scandalous!”
 
I sigh, roll my eyes again, and lean back. “You aren’t seriously getting flustered a chick having her period, are you?”
 
A scowl overtakes her face and she crosses her arms over her chest. “Confusing me with yourself, are we, Taka?”
 
I say nothing, instead turning back towards the door to find the subject of our gossip walking through it. She walks past us, straight-faced, unconcerned with our banter. It’s probably for the best.
 
Sumika follows her in, yawning. I find myself tracking the motions of her skirt, and the cicadas in my ear grow louder with my blood pressure. My sexuality curses me and I curse it under my breath as I wince.
 
Rin and Sumika take their seats on the other side of the room. The latter lets her head fall onto her crossed arms on the table; the former slouches and stares out the window.
 
Maya, uncharacteristically late, carries her formal manner in with her. She looks once over the classroom, identifies Sumika, and turns to the supply room. The two of them will probably be working on their fashion club activities. That doesn’t involve changing their clothes; I’ve asked.
 
The cicadas sing again, and my head begins to hurt. Damn these temptresses. I unpocket my pills and down one. Two point four grams, now.
 
As I screw the cap back on the bottle, someone knocks on the door and opens it. Hisao Nakai, newest addition to class 3-3, the other subject of the latest gossip, stands in the doorway. Maya, returning from the supply room, greets him there.
 
I turn back to my comrades. Ikki and Saki are too engrossed in some other discussion to notice Hisao’s entrance, but Kuon has heard him and turned his head for a better listen.
 
I raise my eyebrows mostly out of habit. “Check this out,” I whisper, knowing that he can hear me. Kuon nods, his face expressionless.
 
Facing forwards again, crossing my arms and leaning onto them, I see that Maya has left Hisao to his own devices. He heads straight to the back of the classroom near Rin and Sumika.
 
I spin around and lean in slowly towards Ikki and Saki, who track Hisao’s movement with their eyes, not turning their heads.
 
I raise my eyebrows again. “Well, well, well,” I whisper, my frown now less pronounced.
 
“This is a turn of events,” says Ikki, whose smile has widened, showing his stained teeth clearly. Saki’s grin nearly matches his. Even Kuon seems excited.
 
“Could it be…?” says the girl softly. Individually, our gazes flicker over to the new student, who’s chosen a good seat from which to check out Rin.
 
Kuon, of course, doesn’t turn to look. “You three better keep your eyes open, all right?” he says with a slight smirk.
 
I chuckle once. “Hm. If you follow up with your ears.”
 
“Agreed.”
 
We sit up straight in our seats and act natural, our less-than-secret meeting concluded, just in time for Nomiya to stride into the room and to his desk. We shouldn’t care if he sees us gossiping, yet we do. Nomiya isn’t always a role model, but I, at least, maintain respect for him, and he doesn’t approve of the practice. “Small minds discuss people, medium minds discuss events, and large minds discuss ideas,” he often quotes, as if repeating something makes it true.
 
In this moment, he smiles and bellows, “Good afternoon, everyone! First things first: Hisao there is a new member, so everyone get along with him.” He winks in Hisao’s direction.
 
Nobody answers Nomiya’s greeting, but I can hear some people shifting in their seats. I look to the side to see that Rin and Kuon are sitting up straighter. Further behind me, Sumika has at least turned her head to the side to expose her face.
 
“I think some of you have projects to work on, so please continue with those, if you like.” He looks knowingly at Maya and Sumika. “As for the rest, I was thinking that, today, we could do some rough studies. How does that sound?” His smile may not be as wide as Ikki’s can be, but it practically radiates light.
 
We mumble an approximation of agreement. Exuberant teachers have some magical ability to drain the life from their students. When the noise dies down, I hear the cicadas again, and massage near my ear, mostly out of habit.
 
“All right, then! Everyone not working on other projects, choose a partner and draw a sketch of one another,” he says in one great breath.
 
A partner, huh? I find myself weighing the pros and cons of each of my friends here. Ikki is relaxed enough to make this easy, but I know that because we’ve worked together many times before. Saki is more likely to fidget, but I enjoy drawing girls. (The cicadas try to impede my thoughts, but the ibuprofen has taken full effect now.) Then there’s Kuon, who I’m still a little awkward around; also, while I’m sure I could draw him well enough, he can’t reciprocate.
 
“You should be able to complete this today, but, if not, we can continue it next time or even do it again if you find it interesting. Remember to pay attention to light and shadow, and give it your best!”
 
While I’ve been pondering, Maya and Sumika have moved to the back table to work together, and two of my friends have come to an agreement. Ikki stands up and heads to Nomiya’s desk. Saki turns on her seat to us.
 
“I’m going to partner up with Ikki,” she says, smiling as always. “You two okay with that?”
 
We agree, and she stands up and leans toward us. “Check out Hisao!” she whispers with a wink and a nod in his direction. Sure enough, he’s trying to partner up with Rin.
 
“Sounds exciting,” Kuon says with a smile.
 
Although I am curious about Hisao as well, Nomiya has prepared some bins of supplies for us to use; these are at his desk, where Ikki went. I explain this to Kuon and go to retrieve some for us. Upon looking inside the bins, I see that Nomiya failed to mention that we’re working with ink and brushes, rather than graphite and pencils.
 
Disappointed at the medium of choice, I take some brushes, inkwells, and paper, and return to Kuon. Setting down the supplies, the obvious question comes to mind.
 
“So, how are we going to do this?” During my years at Yamaku, I’ve learned not to tiptoe around the disabilities of my peers. “I draw you, and you… sculpt me, or something?”
 
He chuckles dismissively. “No, you draw me, and when you’re done, we sit back and relax.”
 
I shrug. “Fair enough.”
 
“Besides, to sculpt you, I’d have to get a little personal on your face,” he snarks. “I only do that to cute girls.”
 
We laugh at another of our mutual interests, and Saki, overhearing us, gives him a playful punch to the shoulder. A few weeks ago, he made a sculpture of her head, neck, and shoulders, and he did indeed have to touch her face very frequently in the process. I wasted no time that day laughing over the fact that he was sculpting Saki’s bust.
 
My frown disappears entirely as I remember the memory, then returns as the cicadas grow louder in my ear.
 
“All right, then. Pose however you want,” I say.
 
Kuon shrugs casually and doesn’t move. “Like this, I guess.”
 
Disappointed by his choice, which will be difficult to draw, I arrange my paper, brush, and inkwells, and set to work.
 
Each stroke I make is measured twice and painted once. Once very quickly. Too many times, I’ve been halfway through a stroke when the cicadas chirp suddenly, forcing my hand to veer off in some strange direction. This is why I prefer to work with graphite - it can be erased.
 
The minimal noise in the room allows the cicadas to sing in full force, to my chagrin, and my right ear feels nearly useless.
 
When I finish the outlines, I tell Kuon that he can move again, and he does; he was a good model, but staying still is difficult for everyone.
 
I rinse my brush in a bowl of water and dip it in the diluted ink used to shade in the drawing. Again, I take care to have the brush on the paper for as short of a time as possible on each stroke.
 
Nomiya begins to patrol the room, moving casually to assess our sketches. First, he provides some encouraging words to Hisao, then moves on to Saki and Ikki, then to myself.
 
“Masterfully done, Takashi!” he says upon seeing my sketch.
 
“Thank you.”
 
I know he’s obligated to say these things as a teacher, but it still makes me feel good. I also know that he isn’t critiquing the sketch itself, but my ability to use the ink.
 
Nomiya returns to his desk and flops into his seat while I finish the last of the shading, around Kuon’s feet. I announce my completion to him.
 
“Cool.” For a moment, we sit in silence, watching and listening to Saki and Ikki working and the cicadas in my ear, until my partner interrupts. “Hey, Takashi,” he says without really directing the words to me.
 
“Hmm?”
 
“Why do you think people gossip?”
 
The question catches me off guard. I blink a few times and turn to look at him, but he, naturally, isn’t looking quite at me. In the corner of my eye, I see Nomiya looking at us, trying to be surreptitious. I look to my left, to Ikki’s unhygienic smile and Saki’s energetic motions. Forwards, I see Kuon’s restful but calculated demeanor.
 
Why indeed.
 
Past Kuon’s head, I see that Hisao and Rin are still working on their sketches of each other. What do we want from them? What do we want from anyone?
 
As Kuon’s question repeats itself in many forms in my head, the cicadas grow increasingly louder, until my own thoughts are drowned out. I moan in pain and my face contorts as I grab at my ear, but my hand stops upon reaching the bandages covering it.
 
Kuon notices. “You all right?”
 
The cicadas begin to quiet themselves, and I come to my senses, wiping a stray tear from my right eye. “I’ll be fine.”
 
He doesn’t indicate whether or not the answer satisfies him.
 
“Anyway,” I say, shifting into a normal pose, “hell if I know.”
 
“Hm?” He raises an eyebrow.
 
“Why people gossip, I mean. Hell if I know.”
 
“Ah.” Kuon remembers his question from earlier and shrugs, slightly smiling. “All right, then.”
 
A few minutes and point four grams of ibuprofen later, Nomiya announces, “Okay, everyone, that’s it for today! Please turn in the drawings on my desk, and I’ll see you all next Monday!”
 
Ikki, Saki, and I do as he says, and Kuon joins us. The four of us walk back to the dorms, discussing what might become of Hisao and Rin.