Rating: G!! (omigosh! it's a red letter day! ^O^)
Warning: sami-idiocy! possible kawaii-overload
Notes: : oo… I’m so mean to Little Wataru~ ^O^;;; but really, I don’t like him that much! he’s so cocky! definitely has inferiority complex! *runs away from the many wataru fans*
upon careful reflection, it occurs to me that i've been pretty mean to seiji too. ^O^;;; just thought i'd warn ya~ also with a bit of shingo angst... boy, this chapter's just packed with stuff! ^O^;;;

Initial K (for Kindergarten)

Wednesday

Ah, a bright and sunshine-y Wednesday, not a cloud in the sky, crisp, clean autumn air, and the sound of children's laughter floating on the wind; a perfectly idyllic scene… Unfortunately, the peace was not to last…

RRRRIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!

The shrill summoning of the first bell broke through the innocent and pure bubble of happiness surrounding the playground of Dorateku Elementary School.

As usual, Little Ryoupon, Little Keipi, and Little Kenta were already waiting at the front doors with expressions of eagerness, petulance, and adoration (respectively). Little Shinpon and Little Takepon were idly trying to kick each other to death. Little Takumi shuffled toward the door while Little Itsuki bounced around him in circles, babbling excitedly about nothing in particular. Little Wataru was "tailgating" Little Takumi and trying to goad him into an impromptu foot race. Little Kouichirou had found his friend Little Kenji and the two of them were in deep whispered conversation. Little Kyouichi and Little Seiji were calmly sauntering into line with the rest of their classmates, making eye contact with no one, tiny sneers curling their lips. Little Kai-chan was late once again, and subjected to merciless teasing by his peers.

So, in fact, when Miss Mak came out to call her class inside, she was not at all surprised to see a line of raggedy, dirt-smudged little boys looking up at her with vaguely sheepish expressions on their round faces. The only clean one of the lot was Little Daiki who was chatting happily on his cell phone.

"Didn’t I confiscate that yesterday?" Miss Mak mused. "Oh well, must confiscate again today," she thought with almost unholy cheer.

And true to her thoughts, Miss Mak deftly plucked the phone out of Little Daiki’s hands as he filed past her into the school.

"I can’t trust you not to use this in class, Daiki-chan," she explained when he stopped and glowered at her. "I’ll give it back at the end of the day."

The brooding little boy stomped off to their classroom. "Tomo-chan was just gonna tell me something good too!" he groused.

With a sigh, she followed them into the classroom and firmly shut the door behind her. The principal couldn't possibly give her another little boy today, right?

As soon as the morning announcements were over, Little Ryoupon raised his hand. "Are we going to be learning science today, Miss Mak?"

Quite taken aback, Miss Mak could only stand and blink at her overly attentive pupil. The thought of science class hadn't ever even crossed her mind. A very small part of Miss Mak's brain started planning on accelerating Little Ryoupon to grade one, just to get him out of her class.

"No, Ryoupon. Science class is for the big kids. Today is Arts and Crafts!" The strained kindergarten teacher forced a bright smile and brandished a pair of safety scissors.

"Can you teach us the chemical formula for Elmer’s White Glue?"

"And how it makes things stick?"

"And how come it dries clear?"

The three little boys by the window piped up in order down the row.

"No, Ryoupon, I cannot teach you the formula for white glue, it’s a closely guarded industrial secret. Keipi, it makes things stick because it does. Kenta-chan, it dries clear because it does."

Miss Mak’s expression showed she would brook no argument. Little Ryoupon rolled his eyes in exasperation and turned to mollify his brother by giving him a bright yellow crayon. Little Kenta, unfortunately, had to satisfy himself with watching Little Keipi scribble all over his desk with his new prize.

Little Daiki raised his hand. "Miss Mak? My friend, Tomo-chan, says that in his class they got to make soapbox cars for the derby on Saturday. He said his teacher had all the stuff ready and he even helped them," he stated, quite matter of fact.

The entire class perked up at the mention of soapbox cars.

Miss Mak fought the urge to just close her eyes, throw her hands up, and ask God why he was picking on her.

"Well, Daiki-chan, that’s very nice, but as you can see, we don’t have the materials for soapbox cars here. Today we’ll be making collages!" Miss Mak announced with forced cheer, holding up a stack of construction paper.

Little Daiki sat back in his seat and crossed his little pudgy arms across his chest. He glared at the teacher for all his worth.

"This school sucks," he muttered with a pout.

"Daiki-chan~" Miss Mak’s singsong voice held a note of warning. "Let's watch our language, shall we?"

A sullen look was Little Daiki's response.

"Okay," Miss Mak chirped, turning her attention back to her class and trying to reassert her position of authority. "I'll need some helpers to hand out the construction paper and glue sticks. First two volunteers get a gold star!"

Little Wataru waved his hand in the air.

"Ah, Wataru-chan! Would you like to take the paper or the glue?"

"Ano~" Little Wataru made no move to leave his seat. "What's the prize?"

Miss Mak looked perplexed.

Little Wataru fired off a series of questions in rapid secession: "I mean, what are the gold stars for? What's the reward? How many stars to get a prize? And how many stars does Keipi have?"

Miss Mak blinked. No one had ever asked that question before, and, quite honestly, she didn't have an answer.

"Well… That is… It’s a surprise," she concluded with a nod. "And as for how many stars you need to get a prize…" She quickly glanced over at the big purple chart and counted the number of stars in Little Ryoupon’s column. "It’s…more than 36. And, Keipi, stop glowering and turn around."

Little Wataru looked a little skeptical, but, after a glance at Little Keipi’s glaringly empty column, he shrugged and volunteered to hand out the glue sticks.

Miss Mak grabbed a black marker and added Little Wataru’s name to the chart. Then she cheerfully stuck a gold star in his column.

"Miss Mak! Miss Mak!"

Even before she turned back to the class, Miss Mak knew what was coming.

"Yes, Keipi?" she sighed.

"I’ll pass out the paper!" he shouted, bounding out of his seat and up the aisle.

"Don't drop it!" Miss Mak yelled as the chubby little boy snatched the stack of construction paper from her desk. "Everyone gets one sheet. *One*, Keipi!"

"Miss Mak! Miss Mak!"

"Next time, lower your voice, Shinpon. I'm standing right in front of you," said Miss Mak as nicely as she could manage. "Now what's the matter?"

"I want a red one!" Little Shinpon bellowed.

Miss Mak resisted the urge to dive under her desk and cover her ears.

"A red one of what, dear?"

"I want a red paper! Ryoupon got a red paper! *I* want a red paper!"

Miss Mak opened her mouth to reply that, with collages, paper colour didn’t matter, but Little Ryoupon hastily traded papers with Little Shinpon before his teacher could even get a word out. Miss Mak fairly beamed at Little Ryoupon. He was surprisingly good at dealing with the whinier members of the class. She glanced at Little Keipi, who was currently having a standoff with Little Wataru in one of the aisles, and concluded that Little Ryoupon must get a lot of practice at home.

As she was already grabbing a gold star from her desk for Little Keipi, Miss Mak grabbed another one for Little Ryoupon.

"Miss Mak?" Little Ryoupon politely put up his hand. "Could you give my star to Keipi?"

Miss Mak felt her eyebrow twitch. Just when she was starting to like the boy, he had to go and do something arrogant like assuming that the extra star was for him. Then again, he was being very magnanimous, donating that star to his little brother…

"If you're sure, I don't see why you can't donate stars. After all, it's your loss," Miss Mak said with a shrug.

At Little Ryoupon's solemn nod, Miss Mak pasted both gold stars onto Little Keipi's column on the big purple chart.

While his teacher's back was turned, Little Ryoupon looked very pointedly at Little Wataru and stuck out his tongue.

Little Wataru looked like he was going to have an apoplexy.

Little Keipi hugged his brother and planted a big sloppy kiss on his cheek.

Little Kenta stuck his tongue out at Little Wataru too…just for fun, and so as not to feel left out.

Miss Mak could almost feel the tension in the air. She sighed for the nth time that day. There was *way* too much testosterone in her classroom. It was like teaching in a powder keg.

A powder keg with a very short fuse.

A fuse that was currently lit (judging from the way Little Wataru was looking at Little Keipi).

"Okay!" Miss Mak clapped her hands to get everyone's attention. "Wataru-chan, Keipi, return to your seats. Let's get on with the collages, shall we?"

Thirteen solemn little faces turned to look at their teacher from their appropriate seats. Miss Mak almost felt a little choked up. They were just *so* cute when they were well-behaved!

"A ‘collage’ is a form of art, like painting or drawing. You make a ‘picture’ out of other pictures. The idea is to convey a general theme or emotion; a bigger picture made up of little pictures, if you will. Today’s theme is "my favourite things." I want you to make a collage using pictures of things you like, things that make you happy, stuff like that." Miss Mak made elaborate hand gestures to illustrate her point. "There’s a stack of magazines on the back table along with some scissors. There aren’t enough scissors for everyone so you’ll have to share. Do your cutting at the big table and then bring your pictures back to your desk. Next, glue them on your sheet of construction paper. Remember that it’s okay for your cutouts to overlap. In fact, that’s part of style of a collage. Overlapping is good."

The little boys all nodded in understanding.

Little Wataru popped out of his desk faster than his teacher could blink and zipped back to the big table with the magazines. He grabbed four magazines as he hurtled past the pile, but just as he lunged for the scissors, Little Takumi "pong"-ed into view. Gone was the normal sleepy-eyed expression, and in its place was one of grim determination.

"Stop it," Little Takumi commanded.

Little Ryoupon and Little Keisuke arranged themselves behind Little Takumi, glaring with all their might.

"Not everything is a competition," Little Ryoupon said quietly. "Share-"

"Or I’m telling Miss Mak!" Little Kenta interrupted.

"Tell me what?" Miss Mak asked, wading into the fray.

The entire class seemed to be ranged against one of the newer boys and you could practically cut the tension in the air with a knife.

Little Ryoupon stepped forward and plucked three of the four magazines out of Little Wataru’s hands. Then he calmly reached over and snagged a pair of purple safety scissors.

"Come on, Keipi, Kenta," he said, leading them to the other side of the long table, pointedly ignoring both Little Wataru and his teacher.

All the little boys looked at each other.

Then they looked at their teacher.

Then they looked at each other again.

Then they all shrugged and started grabbing magazines and scissors for themselves.

It was like someone had waved a magic wand and replaced Miss Mak’s class with… well, thirteen other children: thirteen well-behaved, productive, little people, puttering about the classroom, minding their own business and working diligently on their individual projects.

It was nothing short of amazing.

Miss Mak still made her rounds, though (just in case), going up one aisle, then down the next. She smiled a benign little smile at each of her industrious students. The classroom was quiet but for the ripping of paper, and she felt her frazzled nerves being soothed by the peaceful atmosphere. Sure, Little Ryoupon was doing both his own project and directing Little Keipi’s, and sure, Little Kenta seemed to be doing a collage of blond-haired, green-eyed, young men, but that was okay, right? As long as no one was getting into another fist fight—

Miss Mak was jerked out of her blissful inner monologue by the sight of Little Itsuki’s project.

"Itsuki-chan, it’s not a collage if you just paste one giant picture in the middle."

She tried to speak gently, not chastising, per se, but with just enough reproach in her tone of voice to let him know that he was doing something wrong.

Unfortunately, Little Itsuki burst into tears anyway.

"But this is my favourite thing!" he wailed, big fat droplets of water rolling down his round cheeks. "I only have the one! Besides, they hogged all the other magazines!" he screamed, pointing at Little Shinpon and Little Seiji.

Miss Mak shot the two boys a rather disapproving glare, but quickly turned back to comfort the distraught boy in front of her. She eyed the picture of the pink-clad ballerina with some skepticism.

"You’re sure this is your *favourite* thing? Your one and *only* favourite thing?"

"Yes," said Little Itsuki in a petulant tone.

"And there’s nothing else you like? You can have more than one favourite thing…" Miss Mak snagged a tattered magazine from the pile under Little Seiji’s desk and deposited it on Little Itsuki’s desk. "Why don’t you try looking for a few more things? Try to fill up the page," she suggested.

Little Itsuki, clutching the magazine like it was the Holy Grail, sniffled and nodded obediently.

Miss Mak sighed and resumed walking up and down the aisles.

When the dismissal bell rang, Miss Mak clapped her hands to get her class’ attention. "Okay, children, I want you all to finish up whatever you’re doing and then place your collages in a neat pile on my desk."

She cleared a spot on said desk and then made her way to back of the classroom to begin tidying up while the children toddled about handing in their projects.

Little Seiji turned to Little Shinpon with a wicked grin on his face. "I’ll race you," he said.

Little Shinpon’s eyes widened. Little Takeshi put his hand on Little Shingo’s shoulder in a cautionary gesture.

Little Shinpon shrugged the hand off. "You’re on!" he snarled at Little Seiji.

Little Seiji grinned and took up a "start" position. Little Shinpon moved one aisle over and crouched down too.

Little Kyouichi drafted Little Daiki and Little Kouichirou to officiate as he couldn’t do it himself. Race officials had to be impartial, don’cha know? Little Takeshi grabbed Little Kyouichi and pulled him off to one side so as to make sure neither of them would interfere with the race. Everyone else just sidled up to Miss Mak’s desk and hoped that their teacher wouldn’t notice the ruckus and stop things before they got started. Little Ryoupon jostled Little Takumi aside to get a good view of the imminent race: he wanted to analyze the boys’ style and ability for future reference.

Everyone looked to Little Kouichirou to say "go."

There was a moment of silence, and then Little Shinpon and Little Seiji were off! They hurtled up their respective aisles, little faces screwed up in determination, their collages clutched in their pudgy fists. Everyone else cheered quietly. Little Takeshi and Little Kyouichi affected looks of cool indifference, but even *their* fists were clenched tight and they were fairly vibrating with tension: the loser of this race would be the most disgraced boy in the class and shunned by all his peers.

They tore past the front row of desks, neck and neck. Little Shingo may have been ahead by a hair.

Little Takeshi took an involuntary step forward, the beginnings of a smug grin curving his lips.

As both racers neared their teacher’s desk, arms outstretched, papers extended, Little Shingo chanced to look at his opponent. Little Seiji was pulling ahead! Little Shingo scowled fiercely. This simply would not do! He couldn’t let Little Seiji win! But what could he do? They were already so close to the finish line…

With a devilish gleam in his eye, Little Shingo leaned to one side, hoping to nudge Little Seiji off course.

At that exact moment, Little Seiji leapt forward.

And thus Little Shingo veered and stumbled.

Little Seiji smacked his collage down on Miss Mak’s desk with a loud ‘thump’.

He spun around to face Little Shinpon with a triumphant smirk. "I win," he said.

The expression on Little Shinpon's face was a cross between "about to cry" and "ferocious scowl." Little Takepon stomped up and thwapped him upside the head.

"You suck!" Little Takepon announced. "You were winning too! What made you do something so stupid?"

Little Shinpon shoved Little Takepon back. "Oh yah? I don't see *you* racing him!"

"He was trying to cheat," Little Takumi spoke quietly.

Little Shinpon whirled to face the little blank-faced boy. "Liar! I wasn't trying to cheat!" he screeched.

"Then why were you trying to push him?" Little Itsuki accused.

"Well, I *didn't* push him, now did I?" countered Little Shinpon.

"Whatever," Little Seiji growled. *He* was the winner. Everyone was supposed to be paying attention to *him*. "Shinpon lost. And now he has to pay up!"

Little Shinpon leveled a baleful glare in Little Seiji's direction. "I don't have to pay you anything! We didn't bet!"

"Losers have to give up *something*!" Little Seiji stamped his foot.

"Well the joke's on you cuz I have nothing to give!" Little Shinpon stuck out his tongue at Little Seiji.

In a fit of rage and frustration, Little Seiji snatched Little Shinpon's collage. "I'll take this, then!" he yelled, holding the precious paper above his head and just out of Little Shinpon's reach.

"Give it back!" Little Shinpon sounded panicked; he didn't want to get in trouble with Miss Mak.

"You want it back?" Little Seiji taunted Little Shinpon by waving the paper in front of his face. "I'll give it back to you."

Little Shinpon's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Really." And with that, Little Seiji very calmly ripped the collage in half and handed both halves to Little Shinpon. "There. Take your stupid collage back, loser."

Everyone's eyes widened, mouths dropped open in shock. This was scandalous! Sure, they all fought amongst each other, but none of them had ever deliberately gotten their opponent in trouble with the teacher before. School work was school work; fighting was fighting. They were separate.

Little Takeshi was the first to take a hesitant step towards Little Shinpon.

"Shinpon?" He spoke quietly, casting a furtive glance at their teacher to make sure she wasn't paying attention. He took another step forward. "Shinpon? Don't worry, okay? We can fix it."

Little Ryoupon was already rooting through Miss Mak's desk looking for a roll of tape.

However, Little Shinpon burst into tears, wailing loud enough to frighten the flock of pigeons outside on the playground into flight. Miss Mak scurried over as fast as she could in her new Prada pumps.

"What's the matter?" she asked, bending down to embrace the piteous Little Shinpon.

Little Shinpon burbled something incoherently and held out his ruined project to his teacher.

Miss Mak looked at the pieces of paper, a bit perplexed. "Why, whatever happened here?" she queried.

"Seiji ripped it!" Little Takeshi blurted out, his indignation apparent.

"Seiji?" Miss Mak looked at the accused. "Is this true?"

Little Seiji stubbornly refused to look his teacher in the eye, but when Miss Mak glanced around at all the other little boys, she saw that they were all nodding vigorously.

"Seiji! What do you have to say for yourself?" Miss Mak pursed her lips in anger.

Little Seiji kind of mumbled to his feet: "We were racing to your desk and Shinpon lost."

"You ripped up Shinpon’s art project because of a *race*?" Miss Mak’s voice was shrill.

Little Seiji nodded, eyes still downcast.

Miss Mak looked absolutely livid.

"You were *running* indoors *and* you vandalized your classmate’s property?" Miss Mak expressed her outrage by marching up to Little Seiji, whipping *his* collage out of his hands, and neatly tearing in two. "I’ll not have this kind of tomfoolery in my classroom!" she said sternly, handing the paper scraps back the shell-shocked little boy. "Now hand in your projects and go home! Class dismissed!"

Everyone else shuffled meekly forward, handed in their projects, and shuffled out of the room…just like good little boys.

Miss Mak threw herself into her chair with an exasperated growl/groan.

"What on Earth am I going to do with them?" she asked the empty room.

Her gaze rested on the two halves of Little Seiji’s project. She felt a little twinge of guilt and regret: she hadn’t meant to lose her temper so, but he’d made her so mad. It was one thing if they wanted to beat each other to death, but quite another if to destroy a work of art. Art was an expression of the *soul*, after all.

Still… she’d done the same thing…

With a heavy sigh, and after much deliberation, Miss Mak decided to mark everyone’s projects with the mindset that nothing had happened and all collages were whole, hale, and healthy. She even taped Little Shinpon’s and Little Seiji’s collages back together so she could better appreciate their work.

And in the end everyone got an "A," except for Little Itsuki, who got a "B." For some unfathomable reason, his collage only consisted of that original ballerina and an Old Spice High Endurance underarm deodorant advert.[1]

THE END

[1] Old Spice deodorants have sailboats on them. that’s why I chose that brand. ^_^;;; mebbe Little Itsuki likes sailboats? or mebbe he likes the beefy men that are on the adverts? the world may never know~~~ ^_~