Jirard pressed the wing of the orange paper crane with a single fingernail. Holding up the completed crane between his fingers, he stroked his thick beard and twisted his wrist. He smiled; this was the best crane he'd folded all week. Not nearly as good as Hana's origami, he assumed, but it was better than the mangled wreck he had thrown away at the beginning of the month. Humming the theme for Super Nario World, Jirard set the crane in the multicolored pile atop his desk and slid a green paper out from the square stack.
"I knew this would happen!" Shane slammed the bedroom door shut.
Jirard jumped. A dozen paper cranes skittered off his desk. "Something happen in class?" Jirard asked as he watched his red-faced roommate stride into the room.
"Hana's quitting the tournament." Shane slammed a fist on his desk. "I told you guys it would happen."
"Wait, what?" Jirard dropped the paper. He stared as Shane thumped his forehead against his desk. "When'd she tell you that?!" Jirard asked.
"Today after class," Shane muttered.
"Why is she quitting?"
"She said she couldn't tell us."
Jirard's mind raced as he swiped some cranes off the floor. "Something's wrong. She'd never quit like that."
"Well, she did," Shane seethed. "And if you guys had just listened to me-"
"Shane, please don't be like that." Jirard sighed, dropping the retrieved crane on his desk. "I'll go talk to her. This won't be a repeat of last time." He dashed out the door before he could hear Shane's response.
Jirard ran all the way from Bluebell Hall to Primrose Hall, not letting anyone or anything stop him. He knew Hana was upset, but enough to quit the tournament? No, something else had to be wrong. Something he said? Something he did?
He froze on the stairs on the third floor of Primrose Hall. Was it something he didn't do?
Jirard cursed under his breath and sprinted to Hana's dorm. He'd been avoiding everyone for week to finish the cranes before the tournament—and Hana must have been hurt by that avoidance. Why didn't he see that before? Curse his obsessive mind!
He knocked on the door. "Hana? Are you in there?"
"J-Jirard? I-is that you?" Hana's voice was high-pitched and strained. Had she been crying?
"Are you okay?" he asked, hands clenched into fists. Nothing. Jirard's heart raced with fear. What was taking her so long to respond?
"H-hang on!" Hana called out. Jirard put his ear to the door. Something shuffled and skittered inside the room.
"Hana?" Jirard knocked again. "What's going on?" He placed his ear to the door again. Was that a pair of feet scuffing the carpet? He calmed his breathing, but only just enough to say, "Hana, please. I just want to talk to you. I'm worried."
There was a pause. He heard her clear her throat, a whisper of a sound. Nothing happened. "HANA!" He pounded on the door.
"I'm coming!" Hana sounded frantic. Was she hurt? Had she failed a test? Or worse? What could've happened to her?!
The knob turned. The door cracked open. Hana stood behind the door, blocking his view of her room. Jirard gasped—her eyelids were pink, and she wiped her nose with her wrist. She'd definitely been crying.
"Hana, what's going on?" Jirard asked, leaning against her doorframe.
"W-what are you talking about?" she croaked, forcing a smile. "Why are you here all of a sudden?" Her smile twitched. Was she mad at him?
"Why are you quitting the tournament all of a sudden?" Jirard asked, his heart sinking further.
"Well… about that, I…" Hana glanced behind her, then at the floor.
Jirard scowled. "You don't want to tell me the truth?" he asked sadly.
"No, it's not that!" Hana waved a hand frantically. "It's just… that… I… need…" She glanced behind her, then back up at him. "To go home?"
Jirard set his lips into a line. "Hana," he said with an exasperated sigh.
"Is it that apparent?" Hana rubbed her neck.
Jirard snickered. "You're a terrible liar." He brushed her bangs out of her eyes. "Can I come in?"
"I guess." Hana looked away from him. She stepped back and allowed Jirard enter the room. It looked about as pastel pink as Jirard expected. Everything was pretty orderly—except for a shelf that hung vertically above one of the desks.
"Where've you been for so long?" Hana asked with a small sniffle.
"Huh?" Jirard scratched his head. "What are you talking about?" Technically he hadn't left Asagao since the convention…but he figured that wasn't what she really meant.
"Why haven't you been around for lunch or class or anything?" Hana asked, hands clasped behind her back. "It seems like you've been upset about something."
"No, I'm not upset!" Jirard waved his hands in protest. "Of course I'm not upset." He gripped her shoulder with a gentle squeeze.
"Really?" Hana glared. "Because you've been ignoring me as if you were upset. It's not surprising I reached that conclusion." Tears sparkled in Hana's eyes. Jirard's heart squeezed tight with sorrow. He really had hurt her by locking himself away for so long—and he'd been too blinded by his goal to see it.
"Hana…" His hands relaxed as he frowned. His earlier suspicions were correct, he was sure, but he had another idea to test. "Is that why you decided to leave the tournament? You thought I didn't want you on the team? That's not at all—"
"No! Of course that's not why!" Hana almost yelled, making Jirard jolt. "What kind of worrywart do you take me for?" Her eyes wide and jaw slack—she definitely looked nervous.
"You're not a worrywart?" Jirard asked with a half-smirk.
"I mean…" Hana searched for an answer at her feet.
Jirard looked around the room, his attention drawn back to the shelf. "Hana, your shelf is broken. Do you need help fixing it?" He pointed at the shelf in question.
"N-no! That's fine!" Hana waved her hands about. Jirard jolted as Hana stepped in front of her desk. Hana clasped her hands under her chin. Trying to hide the shelf… but why would she do that? Jirard stared between the shelf and Hana, trying to read the tiny girl's frantic expression.
He glanced at the ground. There was a lumpy blanket by Hana's feet. Broken shelf and something hiding under a blanket… he had a guess what it was, but he had to ask. "What's that?" He pointed at the blanket while looking at her.
Her lip quivered. Jirard's heart ached at the sight. "Nothing. It's nothing…" Hana insisted, her voice cracking.
"Nothing? But you seem really sad about it," Jirard said. "Are you sure I can't help?" he pleaded. He stared at her, hands extended towards her, palms up, in a gesture of pleading and goodwill.
Hana crumpled to the floor. Tears began to trickle down her cheeks. "I-I was just trying to h-help you find Princess Pumpernickel, b-but…" She flipped over the blanket with a swift, sharp movement. Decorations lay in pieces on the floor. On top of the mess stood an Itty Bitty Kitty box.
Jirard's eyes widened. The box was labeled Princess Pumpernickel—the last figure he needed for his collection. "Hana," he whispered, dropping to the floor by her side.
Hana grabbed the box. "But I decapitated her and ruined it!" She hiccupped, shoulders shaking. "And now y-you're going to be s-so mad at me, and I p-promised Wallid I w-wouldn't be in the tournament in e-e-exchange, and now it's all ruined!" She sobbed, covering her eyes with her arm. It was as if a load had fallen off her shoulders and shattered.
Jirard knelt beside her and swept her into a gentle hug. He held her as she cried into his jacket. How could he have left her alone? Man, was he an idiot for not realizing he would have hurt her like this! And left her to be tricked and manipulated…
He sighed, tears pricking his eyes. He didn't deserve someone as sweet as her… he shouldn't have abandoned her. He could've treated her with more love and care while still keeping the surprise for her a secret.
Finally, he managed to spit out, "Hana, it's all right!" Hana lowered her arm away from her face. "It's okay. You don't have to feel bad." She stared up at him in shock, and he wiped tears off her cheek. "You promised to quit the tournament just to get me Princess Pumpernickel?" She bobbed her head. He smiled. "I think that's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me!"
"I-is it?" Hana choked.
"Of course it is! It makes me kinda happy that you'd go so far for me…" He sighed, thinking of the weeks he'd spent hiding away, preparing the cranes for Hana yet making her worry at the same time. "…but you definitely shouldn't go that far for me. I'm not worth giving up your dreams."
Hana shook her head furiously. "I just wanted to repay you, because you're always taking care of me and doing things for me, and I don't deserve it at all—"
"Woah, woah—what?!" Jirard's eyes went wide. "Who says you don't deserve it?" He stroked her hair.
"I…" Hana looked away, but Jirard tilted her chin so he could see her sparkling blue eyes.
"Why don't you deserve it?" he asked gently. He remembered what he told her about the bullying at her past school… but he'd had no idea it'd affected her this badly.
Tears rolled down her face and over his fingertips. She bit her lip and placed her head against his shoulder. "I'm… not a good person, Jirard."
Jirard laughed—the idea was so incredulous, he couldn't help it. "You're not a good person?" he repeated. "Would a bad person try so hard to get me this figure? Or to help her team win the tournament?" He rested his head against hers, some of his tears landing in her hair. "Would a bad person have so many people around her who cared for her?" he said in a low voice. "Would a bad person let Mai drool all over her just so she wouldn't wake up?" He chuckled. "You're kind of silly, Hana."
Hana sighed. "Maybe…"
She didn't believe him yet—but Jirard didn't mind. He would be the one that believed in her—and she could believe in him until she believed in herself. "I wouldn't be doing so much for you if I thought you were a bad person, Hana." He smiled. "I wouldn't like you so much if I thought you were a bad person."
"J-Jirard!" Hana sat up suddenly, looking him straight in the eyes.
He squeezed her, then reached out with one arm for the boxed kitty figure. Hana gave Jirard the box; Jirard kept his other arm across her shoulders to comfort her. He turned the box over in his hand, studying the box design and noting the dents. Relatively minor damage to the cardboard—it could be easily hidden if displayed between a couple other boxes. Then, he studied the decapitated cat inside the box. The kitty's purple curls, silver crown, and brown coat practically shone as the light reflected off the plastic.
Wait… brown? Silver? That wasn't right.
He grinned; after all the bad news, he was ready to share good news with Hana. "I don't think you have to worry about the tournament, either."
"What? Why not?" Hana asked.
He laughed. "This is a fake." He jostled the kitty inside the box.
"WHAT?" Hana grabbed the box, staring at it, then staring at Jirard.
"And a really obvious one, too." Jirard grimaced slightly, annoyed at the inaccuracies. He pointed at the IBK as he spoke. "For one, Princess Pumpernickel is a deep plum color, the color of royalty. Not this delicious-looking brown shade. Also, her crown is gold, not silver."
"B-but… I… but…" Hana's shoulder slumped, crestfallen as she tightened her grip on the fake princess kitty's box. Her eyebrows furrowed. "Wallid…" she muttered.
"But here's the thing," Jirard noted, tapping Hana's forehead. "You made a deal for the real, bona fide Princess Pumpernickel, didn't you?" He scooted himself in front of her, his hands on her shoulders. "You don't have to keep your end of the deal. Wallid didn't keep his."
Hana started to smile—Jirard's heart quickened—but then she stopped, jaw slack. "Do you think so?" she asked. Ever the cautious one, she was.
Jirard's eyes narrowed. "More than just think so. I'll make sure of it." He stood up, holding his hands out. Hana's delicate hand gripped onto his fingers, and he lifted her up. "Bring the kitty with you and let's hurry to the lunchroom."
Hana nodded, swiping the box off the floor. "Okay, let's go." She looked up at him with her wide heart-melting grin.
Jirard held her hand tightly as he guided her out of her dorm and dashed with her down the stairs. Oh, would he make sure Wallid didn't keep his end of the bargain. No one made Hana cry on his watch.
"Jirard, could you slow down?" Hana panted.
Jirard's pace slowed. "Sorry, I'm just really set on tracking down the truth from Wallid and completely dealing with this…" He growled. "…setback."
Hana giggled. "I know… thank you, Jirard. You really are too kind."
Jirard chuckled as he power-walked. "No such thing as too kind in my book… well, unless you're Wallid in the next five minutes."
Hana rubbed her cheekbone as they power-walked, deep in thought. "Jirard? Why have you been shutting yourself up in your room for the past three weeks?" She looked up at him with a lifted eyebrow.
Jirard glanced sidelong at her, noticing her playing with her blazer hem. Yup, he knew she would ask… but still he hadn't prepared a response. "Oh, I've been working on a… very important project. Really time intensive. Have to complete it a hundred percent and all."
"Really?"
"It has to be done before the tournament, and with the tournament coming up soon… yeah…" Jirard stammered. He smiled, squeezing her hand. "It's really cool, though. I'll show you after."
Hana grinned. "Okay. I'm glad that…" She shook her head. "Never mind. You really are the Completionist, huh?"
"Yup!" Jirard said with a smirk. The two stood in front of the cafeteria doors. Jirard stared at the door and narrowed his eyes. "And now Wallid is going to be completely sorry for what he did to you."