The early afternoon haze is broken by the pattering of feet and an accompaniment of yowls.
"Halt!" Saniwa brandishes the brush, as Gokotai's tigers skid across waxed floors.The tigers howl, dig their claws into the floor, (much to Hasebe's future consternation,) and bowl further down the corridor. Saniwa moans in desperate fury and stomps after them.
"-my love."
Does a double take.
"Is this a confession?"
Ichigo Hitofuri sitting seiza by the table, steadfastly avoiding eye contact with Tsurumaru, who in direct contrast is lounging comfortably, and grinning. She's heard and seen enough. Saniwa backpedals, and hunts down the other Awataguchi brothers.
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"Yagen," Saniwa bemoans, "what type of girls does Ichi-nii like?"
Midare leans over her shoulder, pointy chin making her yelp, saying helpfully, "Well, he likes you."
"Body type, I'm talking about body type! What does he fantasise about, before he falls asleep? What gets him hot and bothered and wild and fired up?"
"I'm pretty sure he counts the amount of dango he needs to get through the next day," Nakigitsune mutters, or rather, he would've, if he hadn't had his fox squeal it out for him.
"I bet he likes the refined, big-boobed types."
Shinano perks up, then cringes back as if a hard pinch had been swiftly dealt to the inner thigh. He whips his head around to glare at Atsushi, who returns the fierce glower in kind. Yagen's gloved hand is soothing as it slips through Saniwa's hair, cajoling her face from the low table. "You can't know for sure, Taichou."
The table shudders beneath her palms. "That's right! Yagen! We'll steal his porn books!"
"Porn-"
"-books?"
"What," says Gotou.
"What," say Hakata.
"What," says Ichi-nii, face a thundercloud.
"Why," Saniwa hisses, glaring at Houchou who was supposed to be guarding the door.
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"Well!" Saniwa announces, wringing the rag in her hands, "that plan was a bust."
"Bust?" Shinano pokes his head out from the storage rooms, sneezing three times in quick succession. "Drat!"
Atsushi waves his feather duster at him threateningly. "Why are you like this."
Shinano blows a raspberry at him. Atsushi leaps forward with his duster aimed at his buttocks and Shinano is driven back with a yelp, whisking out his own feather duster to parry. They cross weapons in rapid fire with a "thwack" "thwack" "thwack". Dust flies, and everyone sneezes.
"Stop it!" Saniwa says crossly, flapping her rag. Maeda pats down his cape and returns to wiping the engawa, his speed sending a ripple through her hair.
"Since we're being punished," she continues, arms folding across her chest in the pose of the righteous, "we might as well 'reflect on our actions' and think of a better way to find out Ichi-nii's type so we can turn me into that!"
"She has zero remorse," Honebami remarks dryly.
"Absolutely none at all," Namazuo shakes his head, admiringly.
"If I falter here, how am I supposed to win his heart?" Saniwa tells them cheerfully.
"Exactly," Tsurumaru nods, slow and wise like a sage.
"Yes- eh- wait, Tsurumaru?!"
"ODOROITAKA?"
"But- but you're my rival!" Saniwa wails.
"What."
"What."
"See, I told you it's not like that, Taichou."
"Now I'm the one surprised, how unexpected."
"Everyone, QUIET!"
They all sit down for tea. And cookies. And oranges. And crackers.
"Is that all or do you want me to bring the whole kitchen?" Saniwa asks crossly. "No, Houchou, I'm not going back to get you more candy."
Everyone settles in two groups- sprawled over the tatami or huddled around the snack table. Tsurumaru digs into an orange rind with his nails and pulls, filling the air with juice and citrus. Yagen sourly wipes his splattered glasses.
"So," Tsurumaru begins, delicately pulling the fruit apart, "What's this about a rivalry?"
Saniwa sprays cookies crumbs across the table. "YOU. You're my rival in love."
Tsurumaru laughs gaily. "No, no, really."
Saniwa's eyes narrow. "I'm not joking."
"Eh?"
"I heard him. Confess." Through gritted teeth.
"Not to me! At me! He has an embarrassingly huge crush on someone who won't notice and was asking for advice!"
Tsurumaru's verbal windmilling would have been funny under normal circumstances but now, Saniwa finds that she can only gloomily trace the patterns in the wooden tabletop. "That means I still have a rival, though."
"Are you giving up on nii-san," Mouri wants to know.
Saniwa plants her elbows onto the table and props her face up on her cupped palms, looking for all the world like a kindergartener's interpretation of a tulip. "No," she sniffles, "but how do I ask him out? We all only ever go out together as a group, and he might just reject me straight out, either way."
"Won't it be easier to ask him out, then once you're alone, reveal to him that it's a date?" Tsurumaru sticks half the orange in his mouth.
"Oh!" Saniwa digs her palms into the tabletop as she leans forward, enthralled. "That's an idea!"
"A good idea," Tsurumaru insists, "also, you can invite him to the summer festival. It'll be easy for the rest of us to slip away in the crowd."
"And we can watch the fireworks together, like in shoujo manga!" Saniwa cheers, already sold on the plan.
"Plus," Tsurumaru stuffs the remaining half orange in his mouth, "you can get his blood pumping by wearing a yukata."
"I didn't know he was that traditional," Saniwa remarks doubtfully. Tsurumaru waggles his finger confidently.
"It's because women usually don't wear underwear with that to prevent lines showing, right?"
Saniwa gapes, frowns, then flushes red. "I'll do it!"
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The plan goes off without a hitch. Saniwa had Jiroutachi teach her to tie an obi, but from there it's smooth sailing. Ichigo had been thrilled with the idea of the summer festival and all the younger brothers have been successfully wrestled into yukatas and lined up by the door some way or the other.
Ichi-nii compliments her (surprisingly!) neat obi. She tells him of her hair woes, the search for the right hair clasp, chattering on about the yukata. "-and it's super risky," she adds. "How so?" Ichigo wants to know.
" 'Cause I'm not wearing anything under this!" She reveals bravely.
Ichigo's face pales, then snaps to red. "What."
Sucess! Saniwa cheers mentally. "Tsurumaru told me that this way, it'll prevent lines from forming."
Ichigo goes from red to burgundy and storms off.
"It worked! His blood pressure is definitely raised!"
"I think that's anger, not passion," Naki's fox relays wryly.
"I have a plan, Naki," Saniwa says, calmer than they have ever seen her, wafting the uchiwa against her sweat-beaded neck, "a plan to get him to notice me as a proper, eligible woman to date." She follows after Ichigo.
"Ichi-n- Ichigo!" Her knees tremble. Her grip on the uchiwa is white-knucked and her stomach roils. All or nothing, she thinks, now or never again. Her breath rattles from her impulsivity- but what use does she have for elaborate plans when her feelings for him are straightforward and true?
"Ichigo Hitofuri!"
He turns to face her now. Oh how she wants to puke.
"I'm short!"
"Yes, I know."
"I'm loud!"
"Yes, I know."
"I sometimes make a mess out of things!"
"Yes, I know."
"My chest is completely flat!"
"Uh, I-"
"But I like you anyway!"
"I-"
"More than like a sibling! You should know."
"I... had not known."
"Well now you do," Saniwa says fiercely, "Ichigo Hitofuri, I love you."
He gently smiles, and takes her hands in his gloved grasp. "I had not known, but I had hoped."
So she flushes and he laughs, all wonder and delight, and kisses her. There is no puckering of lips, no bumping of noses or clashing of teeth. There is his warmth, a solid strength to lean on, and his scent and taste and she drowns and she breathes.
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The Happy Ever After
("Does this mean we won't be called on for any more meetings?" Gokotai stammers hopefully.
"Oh, quite the opposite," Yagen replies, trying to sound cryptic and mostly succeeding.
"Guys! Guys!" Saniwa jabs her head through the gap in the shoji doors, "I gotta tell you about the kiss!"
They groan in horrified unison. )