A Loosing Battle

The young woman wiped a stray tear from her eye as she looked over the results of her exam. Sure, it wasn't as if she was some kind of model student, but a 60% was far below the standards of both her and her peers. It wasn't really the grade she was worried about though, it was more the impending reaction from her superiors that bothered her.

She sighed heavily, then leaned back into the green bench she was sitting on. The young student tucked a few strands of red hair behind her ears, and began fumbling in her bag for a tissue. Grades were one thing, crying over them was another. And there was no way in hell anyone was going to see her cry. Not her friends, not her foes, and especially not a couple of people in particular.

The student's hand finally felt the soft, if not slightly scratchy, texture of a tissue in her bag, and she retrieved it and attempted to remove any trace of the outburst from her eyes. She was kicking herself for doing such a ridiculous thing as crying, especially when the grades she'd earned were entirely her own fault. It was not like her to cry, either. In fact, most people on campus believed that the young woman wasn't capable of showing any emotion at all.

She smiled slightly to herself in amusement. The same girl who was all worked up over a grade had earlier the same week delivered a kick to the crotch of that one disgusting frat boy. It was still being talked about in whispers between students, and they regarded her with a mix of fear, anger, and awe. This was good. She enjoyed her reputation among her peers, though at times she wished it wasn't necessary. But oh well, there wasn't much she could do about it, and as long as she attended that school there was no reason or need to change her ways.

The young student was about to stand up and walk away from the bench, when she suddenly heard a noise that made her froze. Voices. Two of them to be exact, and the were getting louder by the second.

"Damn," she muttered as the owners of the voices drew nearer. "What the hell are they doing here? Classes are in session and no one likes to take this part of the campus to the buildings, it's the long way!"

She sat up straight as a board and crossed her legs, assuming her usual confident posture. They probably wouldn't try to cause the girl any trouble, but if they did, she would be ready for them. But just as she was about ready to turn and look at the approaching students, their voices suddenly became clear, and she relaxed a bit. Phew. It was only those two.

"I still can't believe you aced that thing, even with all the goofing off you've been doing," said the first voice.

"What can I say? I'm a natural-ow! You didn't have to do that!" said the second voice.

The two of them began to chuckle playfully.

"Pfft! Natural? More like damn lucky," the first voice replied. "And I'm sure those Asian roots give you an advantage."

The second voice laughed a little.

"Now Harlock," it said. "Luck has nothing to do with it. It's just a matter of hard work and experience."

"Experience?" snickered Harlock. "That's great coming from a guy who was up til three o' clock in the morning last night, playing Pong for christ sake! Pong!"

"Hey, my title was at stake. I had to do something about it."

Harlock groaned in exasperation, and his friend laughed merrily. The young woman couldn't help smiling slightly at their conversation either.

Suddenly, Harlock shushed his companion, and the two of them dropped their voices to a whisper. The woman on the bench could still hear them, however, for sound carried easily in the area.

"Hey, isn't that Emeraldas over there?"

She froze.

"I think so." whispered the friend. "I wonder what she's doing all by herself? Maybe something happened?"

Harlock was silent for a few moments. "I dunno. She's not the type to sit out in the open like that."

The second voice, which had been quite cheery a few moments ago, suddenly seemed riddled with concern.

"Maybe she's sick? Or maybe someone did something to her? She looks pretty sad."

"Go ask her then." Harlock replied. "She's your girlfriend, not mine."

Emeraldas sighed heavily, and waited for the second person to approach. She expected to hear footsteps approaching, but was surprised when a different sound reached her ears.

"Hold my bag, ok?"

There was the sound of fabric being rubbed, and then silence.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Trust me. This will cheer her up."

"Or freak her out."

"I know what I'm doing," replied the second voice. "After all, she's my girlfriend, not yours."

Harlock moaned and his companion chuckled under his breath.

"I'm going back to the dorm," Harlock said. "Try not to do anything too stupid, Tochiro"

"That would depend on your definition of stupid."

Harlock must have walked away, because Emeraldas could hear his heavy footsteps fading away at a rapid pace. For Tochiro, however, there was only silence. But then, after a few moments, a sound could be heard.

"THUMP."

Emeraldas covered her mouth and tried very hard not to let out a giggle. Obviously her friend was trying to sneak up on her from behind, though he wasn't doing a good job of it by a long shot. A few moments later she heard another loud 'THUMP', this time slightly closer. A few more thumps followed, and then nothing. The red-haired woman was now sure he was standing right behind her, and she had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen next.

Thankfully no one was around to see it.

"TICKLE FIGHT!"

Almost before she could blink, Emeraldas found herself being tickled by a bespectacled fellow student who was so short he had to stand up on the bench in order to reach her neck. She looked over at him, and saw Tochiro grinning wildly as the tickling proceeded. But suddenly, his his expression of joy turned to horror as the would-be tickle assassin slowly realized that his deadly tickles were having absolutely no effect on his target.

Defeated, the miniature tickle warrior sank to his knees and slowly assumed a sitting position on the bench, frowning in dispair.

"Oh. So you're not ticklish?"

Emeraldas smiled and shook her head slowly.

Tochiro sighed and looked away from his conqueror, his former enthusiasm now gone, and replaced by sheer embarrassment.

Emeraldas was not mad at him though. On the contrary, it was taking every ounce of her being to keep from bursting out into laughter at the sight of his blushing face, as she thought it might hurt his feelings. So instead she turned her body to face him, and then, without warning, began to counterattack.

He proved to be extremely susceptible to the tickling and burst out into laughter. Esmeraldas started to laugh too, and took great pleasure in causing her victim to squirm under her ruthless fingers. After a few minutes of torturous tickling, her opponent cried out for mercy, and she obliged him by swooping him up into her lap and kissing him with enthusiasm.

Tochiro broke away from the kiss and looked up into the eyes of his companion. Any trace of sadness was now non-existent. It had been replaced by a loving, if not amused, gaze.

"Tickle fight?" she said "Really?"

The short student sat up slowly. Upon reaching a sitting position, he took hold of her hand.

"Did it work?"

"Maybe."

They embraced, and stayed that way for quite a long time.