As my GPA gently weeped [Yukari]

Summer had finally come to Sanyo. It was the third summer that Seiji had the pleasure to experience in the city. A cool breeze blew across Seiji's face as he sat in the shadow of an oak tree, creating a contrast with the warmth of the day. Today was one of life's little miracles, in more ways than one. The weather report said that it was a perfect day for walking around, for getting out and having a bit of fun with some friends. Unfortunately, Seiji had no friends. Today was even more of a miracle for Seiji due to it being this nice on a Sunday, the one day he had to have just a bit of rest and relaxation after his shift ended at his second job.

So, he sat in the shade of his tree, utterly friendless, and read a book. It was written by an American gutter rat, giving his languishing, nihilistic view on life, love, and baseball. Bukowski sure knew how to make a man want a cigarette, which was unfortunate because Seiji very much couldn't smoke in public. Glancing up from his book, his honeyed eyes scanned his surroundings. He realized he was far from the only student there, but he was certainly one of the few there by himself.

A dozen or more happy couples were all walking around, there by the bridge, wasting away one of life's fleeting days where it felt like everything was going to be alright with one another. It was a good way to spend the day, Seiji supposed, even if he hadn't managed to make all that many friends in his time at Futaba High. He saw more than a few people he recognized from Futaba High, most of whom waved at him. Seiji tossed them a half-hearted wave back, lazily returning to his book.

If Seiji could grin, he might just have offered one up there, thinking about what he must look like to his fellow Futabans. At school, his single uniform was always perfectly pressed, jacket worn just according to the dress code, like a straight-laced overachiever. Here, he couldn't help but think he looked like a delinquent. His white button-up was completely undone, exposing the black undershirt he wore. Gone were the professional looking pants of his high school and in their place was a pair of dark blue jeans. He fancied himself looking like quite the delinquent at the moment, Japan's own rebel without a cause.

Reaching the end of one of the book's many short stories, Seiji groaned. Once more, he'd kill for a cigarette to take the edge off the day. The book was in English, as indicated by the title being printed in that language. It's how he got away with reading a book like the one he was perusing in public. Most of his peers couldn't read the sordid little tales in his book about angels with paper wings getting killed for money or impromptu trips across the country to get away from wronged women. Seiji sat up, looking out across the bridge, caught in his own little world while contemplating the last story he read.