| Fan Fiction |
by D. Fizzle
03. Mr. Otaku
I looked around the classroom of my night class. I think I have the right classroom, but heck, with my judgment I should be right. However, the room was empty. Was everyone late or something?
There was a knock on the door and an old man walked in. He was a tiny man with grey hair, which was only a few strands around his oddly shiny scalp. Why not shave his whole head if he was balding? I couldn’t take my eyes off his shimmering head, it was too distracting.
“Student, what are you doing here?” he asked. “No one’s supposed to be in here. Are you new?”
I nodded my head, and was about to give my introduction when he rudely cut me off.
“Ahh, are you Maissugi?” he clapped his hands together and smiled, his small eyes shrinking even more as his wrinkles formed deeper creases. I cringed at his pronunciation of my name. “I heard a new student from Japan was coming today. You’re her, aren’t you?”
I nodded my head again. “I am M—“
“Classes have just begun, so you’re not too late. Come, I’ll bring you to your class!” he smiled amiably.
Stop cutting me off!
I frowned in displeasure. I don’t like this old man! However I followed him anyways since he at least had the courtesy to escort me.
“I hope you enjoy your night studies here. If you need any help just stop by the office and I’ll be waiting. Well, here’s you classroom,” he stopped at the end of the hall and opened the door for me. “Have fun and study hard!”
I bowed as he left but couldn’t help thinking how much Class President would get along with the old guy. They had the same enthusiastic personality. I shrugged my shoulders and entered the room.
I looked at them all. Half were either asleep or nodding off and the other half were texting on their cells or chatting to one another. As for the teacher, she was on her laptop, earphones intact and all.
“I am,” I paused and looked around the room again. “Excuse me!”
The first row raised their heads and looked at me. Gosh, are these kids deaf? I pouted, crossing my arms in front of my chest.
“Excuse me!” I shouted more loudly. This time I managed to get the teacher to take her earphones off. I sighed in exasperation, “Thank you.”
“Who are you?” a boy in the second row rolled his eyes and scoffed. Wow, everyone is getting a cold. I smiled.
“Thank you for asking!”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” he mumbled. I nodded my head.
“Yeah, I know that. It must be the cold, right?” He gave me an incredulous look, probably because he was so amazed I could be so intuitive. “Everyone is coughing these days. Anyways, my name is Yamamoto Maizuki, but you can call me Mai-sama. Mai-sama is new here so please treat this princess well!” I grinned and sent a wink for fan service. “Yoroshiku onegaishimasu!”
“Okay, Student, show’s over. You may take your seat,” the teacher said monotonously. Hmm, where do I sit?
There were three empty seats, one in the back, which just wouldn’t do. There was another one beside two curiously close students doing something I couldn’t quite explain. Were they playing vampires…?!
No, I can’t sit there!
I darted my eyes away from those two and sped towards the third empty seat. In was in the middle of two classmates—one reading a biology textbook and the other, a boy, writing something. Stepping closer, I could see that the boy was actually doodling and the other one…
“Ma-i-zu-ki?!” she exclaimed, sending a broad smile my way.
“Class President…hi,” I nodded my head.
“I said your name right, right?” she asked, pulling out the chair for me. I nodded my head again and took a seat. Annoyingly slowly, but it was correctly pronounced nonetheless. At least she doesn’t call me Maissugi.
“It’s so weird that we’re in the same night class.”
I mean, what’s so hard about saying Maizuki? Just because it’s foreign, people make such a big deal about pronunciation.
“Don’t mind Mrs. Kang. She’s actually a really good teacher. If you need any help just ask me, okay? Ma-i-zu-ki?”
“Huh?” I asked. Was she talking to me? I nodded my head anyways, and was relieved to see her smile in response. I need to stop ignoring her.
But it’s not my fault, she should make her presence known! I shrugged and opened up my Korean workbook to today’s assignment. The characters were a blur to me. The only words I recognized were words used commonly in the media—pabo, doong, and namja.
Putting aside the workbook, I peered at the guy beside me. He had stopped his doodling and was looking outside the window. I took the chance to look at his doodle. Calling it a doodle was actually a big understatement.
It was a very detailed comic strip of a girl in a classroom. I couldn’t read whatever the characters were saying but it still looked funny. The expressions were humorous and full of charisma.
I looked up at the guy, who didn’t seem to fit his drawings. Although I couldn’t see his whole face, I could tell he had a handsome profile. With a tall nose, and short, black hair that was spiked, he looked pretty cool! He might be even cooler than Jiyong.
Too bad he’s an otaku.
“What are you looking at?” Class President interrupted my thoughts. I looked at her and then pointed to the otaku’s comic strip. She leaned over and suddenly burst into laughter. What, was the comic that funny?
The otaku guy turned his head sharply at us. Cool? More like super scary! He had really dark, mean-looking eyes and an expression that said he was going to kill one of us. I scooted my chair a little closer to Class President. If he decides to strike I can push her in front of me.
I nudged her, who was still holding onto her stomach and her head on the desk, laughing into the wooden surface.
“It is that funny? What’s it about?” I asked.
“I-ha It’s about…hahaha, a-about—” before she could tell me, Otaku jumped out of his seat and clasped his hand over her mouth. My eyes widened when he glared at me. He whispered something into Sunghee’s ear and finally got her to stop laughing.
“It’s not that funny, actually,” she answered me, but was still smiling.
Did he say he was going to kill her? I looked suspiciously at her, but couldn’t ask for more. I don’t want her to die just so she could answer my question.
Aren’t I a good person? I just saved a life today!
I glanced at the comic strip again, but he snatched it away and put it away into his bag. I frowned, it’s not like I could read it anyways.
“Sunghee,” the teacher called.
“Yes Mrs. Kang?”
“Come to the teacher’s lounge with me. I want to show you this new program I thought you might like,” Mrs. Kang answered.
“Sure!” Sunghee smiled and ran towards the teacher.
“Oh,” Mrs. Kang looked over to the other students, “Class is dismissed, see you guys later.”
I got up and sprinted out of the classroom, just in case he decided if he couldn’t kill Sunghee, he’d kill me. I can’t die before I meet my prince. Most of all I absolutely can not die by the hands of an otaku.
Escaping the building, I slowed down my pace and began walking to Papa’s newly open restaurant. Honestly, I hated the restaurant since it was the very reason I had to leave Japan, but Papa says it’s been a dream passed down to us from generations and it’s our legacy to uphold.
Plus the fact that it’s already so popular in Korea has made Papa and Ka-san really happy, and I’m happy when they’re happy. Aren’t I a good daughter?
I stopped in my tracks, suddenly feeling a chill do down my back. It must be the approaching winter, right? It was silent around me. Were my ears playing tricks on me?
I began walking again.
Passing by a street lamp light, I saw another shadow behind me. I shivered, and quickened my pace. However, the shadow was still right behind me and gaining speed.
Time to be brave, Mai-sama! Clenching my fists I twirled around, two fists in the air.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” a shriek escaped me, my eyes automatically closing in terror. “You can’t kill me! I’m a princess and a princess can’t…get killed?”
I peeked one eye open to see nothing. Turning back around, I saw the otaku straight ahead. I paused before running up.
“Hey, wait up! Aren’t you supposed to kill me?”
©D. Fizzle Productions Saturday, November 20, 2010, 5:01 PM. All copyrights reserved. Distribution is prohibited without the written consent of D. Fizzle.