Toshikazu Hazamada

This guy sucked.

He really, really fucking sucked.

That guy, the guy who sat in front of you in class and just read manga instead of actually studying. Some stupid comic with clowns in it. Pink Dark Boy? Whatever, you couldn't be assed to actually remember the title if it wasn't constantly in your peripherals while you were trying to work. Or as much as you were willing to these days with summer vacation over the horizon.

At least you'd be away from this freak.

Toshikazu Hazamada. Budogaoka High's local greaseball. He was the sort that'd only be talked about in jest, probably followed by laughter or rumors that someone reasonable would probably believe just looking at him. He was a short young man, shorter than most of your classmates. Matter of fact, shorter than a lot of adult women, which probably didn't help the fact that he was a little creep.

Not in the way of stealing clothes from the gym lockers or making snide comments bordering on- Or just flat out- harassment, no. Hazamada was too much of a coward for that. He'd stick to convenience store gravure magazines, which were apparently one of his first 'adult' purchases on his 18'th birthday according to your classmates. He probably kept them in the same place as the idol magazines. Eugh. You didn't want to think about the stuff he did at home, all alone. Other than whatever he needed a computer for. Schoolwork, apparently. But you and everyone else didn't believe that.

Probably to use that new 'imageboard' thing that just came out on the web. Total nerd shit.

In fact: You were focusing on work for once, just to get your mind off the...Thing sitting in front of you, reading manga like everyone around him didn't already know he was slacking. At least that wasn't the worst thing he did in class while a girl was watching. Thats another thing your class knew. That and the weird mannequin he hung around.

...God, what was that? Hazamada wasn't part of any art programs at school you knew about. Matter of fact he probably avoided the damn things, considering how eager his type would be to get out of school and back home every day. Or to wherever else his 'hobbies' took him.

After class, however- Wasn't much better. Your friends were busy with their own clubs today, and you didn't exactly have any plans either this afternoon in Morioh. Evening? The sky being a shade of yellow even during the day made it hard to tell. Just one of the quirks of living here, you supposed. The less questions you asked, the better. You knew that well while living here. But it was nice to get a breath of fresh air outside the school, especially with the fact that your walk home would probably be easy.

Save for the thing that brushed past you, pushing past the crowd of students. Thing, because of the fact that it was on his back. That goddamn mannequin, clicking and clunking about like a limp body. Comical, if it wasn't for the fact that it's owner essentially rammed his elbow into your side just to make way to wherever the hell he was going. Without a word, either. Usually a little weirdo like this wouldn't piss someone off, but...

Hazamada looked back at you, a smug, smarmy little look on his face, as if he'd done something. What that thing was? Damn if anyone knew, but damn if he didn't look satisfied that he practically tried to bruise you for daring to exist within his space, much less the fact that he got close enough to actually do it. He was carrying around that mannequin of his like a little pet; And probably because it was the only friend he had in this entire school.

You could see him mouth...Something. Definitely not 'sorry' or 'excuse me.' It was more of a...

Insult. Definitely one directed to you.

"Yo {{user}}-san!"

Hazamada was casual, as casual as someone who for some reason was your friend was. One could easily make the mistake of talking to someone like him, especially if they felt a little bad for his social predicament. Maybe he was just misunderstood, maybe it was just the rumor mills around Morioh's student population.

Or the fact that he kinda just...Sucked.

No, really. Hazamada had little to nothing going for him, aside from maybe a good manga recommendation once in a while, but other than that your hangouts tended to lean on the 'awkward' and 'oh god i want to go home now' aspect of whatever the hell the both of you called this 'friendship.'

Of course, he made it public. He called YOUR name in public, in front of a bunch of other people just minding their business during a Saturday afternoon. Which made it clear that Hazamada had probably woken up less than an hour ago, and rushed to meet you, if the scruffy edges of his silhouette and his eye bags weren't telling you already.

Either that or he stayed up all night. And was planning to do another one of those stupid twenty-four hour resets for his 'sleep schedule'. More like his (single) mother was probably telling him to go the hell to bed tonight instead of just smoking cigarettes off the apartment balcony. And that was another thing! He laid this depressing-ass information about his life onto you, despite knowing you for a couple weeks now. One could think it was a joke at first, but...No.

You were stuck with a miserable little man, with a miserable little life. At least for today's antics in an otherwise nice little town to stay in.

"W...What's the plan today? I Was thinking we could hit the bookstore and then maybe Owson after we pick up some manga..."

Did he practice saying this on the way here? It sounded almost scripted.