Well, I see that at least a few people have subscribed. Thanks, guys! Thanks also to Zuzanna295 for reviewing. I always love reviews, hint hint. Anyway, enjoy Chapter the Second.

"Midori..."

Ayano advanced on the younger girl with a murderous fury in her eyes. Midori started to back away, regaining enough of her senses to realize she wasn't going to escape alive if she didn't work for it. She turned on her heel and began to run for her life. Her heartbeat shot up to record levels as she heard the older girl's footfalls gaining on her. Straight ahead was the door that would lead her to safety.

Please, she silently prayed. I have to reach that door...

The girl's hand closed over the door handle, and for one brief moment she thought she would be free. She turned the handle, still charging forward. Her body slammed into an unmoving door.

As the yandere grabbed her sailor collar and pulled her around to face her killer, the realization hit Midori. The door opens outwards... Her soft, quivering green eyes first met the shiny glint of the blood-soaked knife, then the darker eyes of her bringer of death. She shrunk against the door, a tear already dripping down her cheek.

"No!" she begged. "I-I swear I won't tell anyone!"

Ayano tightly gripped her knifu, holding it up just inches from the green-haired girl's neck. Her eyes narrowed. "Give me one good reason I should let you live," she growled. What good was she, anyway? Unable to take simple instructions, constantly asking brain-dead questions, nearly always missing lessons, not to mention the obsessive dependence on her e-mail apps. Half of the psycho's mind wanted to get the problem solved quickly and silently, and half was considering what dagger techniques would make the little schoolgirl scream the loudest.

"I p-promise!" Midori pleaded, choking on the lump in her throat. "I'll do anything you say!"

As if there was anything you could do for me, thought Ayano, drawing back her knife to make that ultimate strike that would rip her to shreds. She'd stick with the neck, perhaps. But a stab wasn't good enough – perhaps if she dragged the knife slowly downwards...

And then, a thought hit her. Not a thought she appreciated, but to ignore it would be suicidal for her cause. She was on the top floor of a school packed full of students, wearing a uniform covered in Kizana's – and soon, Midori's – blood, and now she would have two corpses to deal with. As much as it pained her to think about it, the little moron had just promised to do anything in exchange for her life. And that made her wonder just how far "anything" could be pushed.

Ayano slowly lowered her knife. "All right," she said through gritted teeth. "I will spare you IF you will help me get my Senpai. And you'll have to help me get out of this mess."

"Your... your Senpai?"

The yandere leaned in closer. "Taro Yamada. The love of my life. He's my future boyfriend – he just doesn't know it yet. I can't – I won't – let any other woman stand in my way. Just thinking about the life I could have with him..."

It was the strangest feeling that had ever come over Ayano. For the first time in her life, her deepest thoughts and feelings burst to the surface for the only person who would listen. Somehow, she trusted her captive to keep it a secret, perhaps knowing what would happen to her if she ever dared speak of it.

"My mother met my father the same way. She, too, had to take down her enemies for him. She had to kill, destroy, and manipulate, to gain the happy life she has with him today. And now, it's my turn with Taro-senpai. Oh, God, that boy. I… I love him!"

It was almost too much for her to bear. Even though Senpai was multiple floors away and far from plain view, she was feeling emotion. Real, honest-to-goodness emotion. Her vision began to blur, and she shut her eyes.

"Senpai..."

A figure slowly materialized on the near side of her eyelids. Taro Yamada looked into her eyes, a gentle blush on his face.

"I... I love you so much!"

Senpai was hers. She grabbed for him, wrapping her arms around him and pushing her lips against his. They felt more perfect than she could have ever imagined – so warm, so soft, exactly the feeling for which she so deeply hoped from the person she would spend the rest of her life with.

Then, from deep down inside, came a jolt of consciousness, of reality. This was just a fantasy. Senpai wasn't really there. That meant... the perfect, beautiful lips touching hers belonged to...

Ayano Aishi's eyes snapped open, and all at once she was filled with another emotion, one she had never felt before. Utter, abject horror. Directly in front of her line of vision were the shocked, wide eyes of Midori. She jumped backwards, clutching the knife tighter. If this ever got out... As soon as Midori had outlived her usefulness, she really was going to rip her apart.

She glared at the younger girl, hard. "I did not mean to do that," she growled. "The first thing you can do for me is never mention this to anyone."

Midori nodded. A hundred questions and conflicting feelings were raging through her mind, but for the first time in her life she was too speechless to discuss them.

"Get me the mop and bucket," said Ayano. "I need to deal with the body." She turned to the side, returning to the scene of her crime. After a moment, Midori stepped away from the door, her heart rate having returned to at least a manageable speed. She inched toward the utility sink, her hands still shaking. The past moments replayed over and over in her mind. She briefly considered making a run for the door, but it could never work; the murderer would catch and destroy her for sure.

Her hand closed on the mop handle, two separate opinions fighting for precedence inside her. One part wanted to comply with the orders for the sake of survival; the other part wanted to club Ayano over the head with the mop and flee for the sake of survival.

No – three separate opinions. A tiny tingle in her lower abdomen was also telling her to cater to Ayano's every whim, not out of self-preservation but out of inexplicable respect. As much as she tried to hold these feelings back, they were still enough to push "complying" to the top of her priority list.

The body had seemed to vanish; the yandere had planned ahead and ensured there would be a dumpster down on the ground below. She would have to remember to close it soon, but that wouldn't be a problem as long as Green Hair didn't distract her from her duties. The scene wasn't as bloody as it could have been – an easy cleanup with enough water. Speaking of which, there was her servant now, with the mop and the bucket.

The empty bucket.

Ayano's less-bloody palm met her face. "Fill the bucket first," she deadpanned. "Do you think I'm going to dump air on the blood to clean it up?"

"Oh!" exclaimed Midori, glancing down at her oversight. "Sorry!"

The moments dragged on as she filled the bucket and struggled to carry it back. Ayano dipped the mop into the bucket and soaked up the blood from the floor. Soon, all that remained were the bright red stains on her uniform. And therein lay the real problem: she had no replacement.

"Well?" she asked. Midori was well known for offering unsolicited advice; perhaps she could be put to use. "What do I do about the blood?"

Her kouhai thought for a moment. "Why not just try to rinse it off with the water?" she suggested.

Ayano sighed. Like that would make anyone less suspicious. "And what am I supposed to do with a soaking wet uniform? I don't even think it would all rinse out."

"Run for the locker room and tell people the sink broke?" asked Midori.

What a stupid suggestion.

And yet... there were no better options. Taking Midori's uniform crossed her mind, but that would come with its own set of problems that would need explaining. She mentally cursed herself for even considering the idea – mainly because it required visualizing Midori stripping off her sailor fuku. Worse, now the image of Midori's scantily-clad body was stuck in her mind. She felt dirty and unfaithful for it. Only her Senpai deserved that kind of fantasy.

She sighed. Trying to wash the blood off her own shirt was her only choice; it had to be done. The yandere grabbed her collar and pulled off the shirt of her sailor uniform, kneeling down to rinse it off in the water.

Midori, meanwhile, had frozen in place, her face burning scarlet. This should have been nothing special – she'd been to the bath house before. Yet there was something about seeing her senpai there now, half naked, that caught her eye. Maybe even turned her on a little. Finally, with a forced burst of will power, she averted her eyes, shaking the thoughts from her mind.