Chapter 5 – Sincerity and Sophistry

The next morning starts peacefully. Sleeping in for once, I crawl out of bed sometime around nine for a nice long shower, a healthy breakfast, and to get into my school uniform; working at a festival booth, especially around water, is not safe for a yukata. Being expected there by ten – to ensure everything is set up – I have some time to make myself look a little extra special. Not knowing exactly how to go about that, I settle on gathering my hair and wrapping it in a single braid down the middle of my back, leaving a generous portion to hang in front and over my shoulders.

My eyes still look a little sunken, so I make sure the hair casts some shadows across them to hide the weeks of missing sleep. Finishing with a green ribbon tied around the braid and into little finger-like shapes, I smile into the mirror. The style might fit in better at a renaissance fair, but I'm pleased with the result. Appearance mastered, I grab my laptop, shove it in its carry-bag, then bound out the door. My eyes linger on Amaya's door for a moment as I pass, but she's probably sleeping in before her big date.

I could use a little beauty rest, but it's too late for that, now...

The dorms are basically empty as I make my way down to the festival grounds, but it's a beautiful day out there, and there's no good reason to stay in and sleep – I hope Hisao sees that. The warm sunlight, moderate temperature, and gentle breeze create near-perfect festival weather, and I walk with a spring in my step. With the sky so clear, I imagine the temperature will climb as the day wears on, but I'll be in a nice shady booth through the worst of the heat. The biggest problem will be facing the boredom, but that's why I brought my laptop.

I might even be close enough to use the library's wi-fi...

Coming into sight of the booth, I see Naoko standing behind the counter, and looking chipper as ever. Evidently she started early and already has the game set up except for the water; unlike the majority of other classrooms, most of which are selling various junk foods, my class decided to run a game booth. Quietly joining her, I start sorting through the boxes beneath the counter for little stuffed animals, key-chains and other assorted prizes people would be trying to win, and hanging them up around the inside walls.

It's a simple game, really. On a table in the middle of the booth there are twenty-four tiny fish bowls arranged in a circle. Each one will be filled with water to the neck, and, sunk into eight of them, there are some colorful plastic goldfish. Players stand about two meters from the closest fish bowls, and try to toss a rubber racket ball into one with a fish; it's harder than it sounds. Fortunately, all I have to do is take tickets, watch the game, and hand out prizes accordingly, though we won't be busy until after noon at least.

Remembering a festival like this from long ago, I recall being held up in Dad's arms to try and win a prize playing this exact same game, but this had actually been Naoko's suggestion – hence her eagerness. When she brought it up during a brainstorming session, a few of the others laughed it off, but I had the final say, and I really liked the idea. The fact that she volunteered to set it up herself assuaged the concerns of my other classmates. Now that we've filled the bowls, she's tapping me on the shoulder, so I turn and inspect her giddy smile.

She's a bit taller than Amaya, but still shorter than my one-point-six meter frame. Her figure is somewhere in between; having Amaya's narrowness combined with some of my curves – much to Amaya's chagrin. As always, her school uniform is pressed and wrinkle-free, but she usually doesn't have those bright red ribbons hanging over her ears – festival fare, I gather. Usually her dark, forest-green-dyed hair is held behind her ears by a dainty barrette – like last night – but today it's wrapped in a tight bun with a pair of white chopsticks sticking out on top.

Looking her over, I realize how convenient it must be to commute to the school rather than live in the dorms. It was never an option for me, especially considering how far away Mom lives, though I think I'd be missing part of the experience by not living in the dorms – I might just be used to my noisy neighbors at this point, though. Whatever kind of night her hapless roommate – who is nowhere to be seen – might have had, she looks well-rested, and her cheerful expression goes along well with her excited signing.

[I love your ribbon~!] she compliments, reaching up to bat it with her finger, [It's simple, but it matches your left eye really well~!]

Cracking a smile, I heave a sigh and complain, [Well, I only had a few minutes to decide, and the matching is an accident...]

I really wasn't paying that much attention...

[You look nice, though,] I add, quirking an eyebrow at her attire, [Uniform, huh? Are you wearing a yukata later?]

[Of course~!] she beams, pointing to her bag under the counter, and the carefully-laid-out package nearby. [You and Amaya went shopping yesterday, right?] she asks with a knowing smirk, [At that dress shop you're always keeping a secret?]

I'm sworn to uphold its anonymity by the Yamamoto Initiative.

[Yeah, but I'm not changing 'til later,] I reply, avoiding the second half of her question completely.

Unfazed, she bobs her head with an excited nod; I think if Naoko could speak, she'd sound cheerful all the time, like Emi or Misha, but maybe even louder. It's possible that would become annoying considering how loud she can be even without a voice, but she can get anyone to smile without saying a word. Sometimes I wonder where she gets all her seemingly boundless energy, but I suspect she runs on smiles and hugs. Even people who are depressed, grieving, or otherwise melancholy can't resist her indelible smiles and bombastic signing.

I still worry about poor Sora... she's probably just getting to sleep now.

The conversation peters out after that, and we continue getting the booth ready in silence. Soon we've covered the walls with brightly colored prizes, and it's time to wait... and wait... then wait some more. Admittedly, I took the setup shift because it's less hectic, but the trade-off is tedium. Technically, my shift starts at ten-thirty, and Tadao was supposed to be here from noon until one-thirty, so I'll be at this booth for almost four hours. Fortunately, the crowds will be light until noontime, so, while the rest of the setup is happening around us, I decide to pull out my laptop.

Grinning at the start-up sound, I decide to boot up Call of Duty 2 and do some Nazi hunting; if anyone asks, I'll say I'm studying world history through the scope of a sniper-rifle. Unfortunately the library is apparently just a little too far away, so I won't be able to use any online features. It's disappointing, but I suppose my yelling through the headset might scare away potential suckers – players, rather. Either way, I'm soon absorbed into the game, and I basically forget all about Naoko, not to mention the growing crowd.

I hope Hisao likes video games...

A little past ten thirty, Tadao's grim visage suddenly appears in front of me, but he remains eerily silent for a few minutes. Letting him think, I focus on the game, but he eventually he starts tapping the counter to get my attention. Turning up from the monitor to meet his sullen gaze, I notice the panicked look in his eyes, and marvel at the half-chewed pencil he's rolling between his fingers; clearly he's anxious, and I can guess what it's probably about: Amaya. Closing the laptop to indicate he has my full attention, I offer him a sweet smile and coquettishly flutter my eyelids.

I think I'm gonna enjoy this.

My expression seems to make him even more nervous for a second, and he turns to look around at the other booths, fidgeting like a criminal informant – I can almost taste his trepidation. As he glances around nervously, I notice he's not in his school uniform. Instead, he's wearing black jeans, a gray slogan t-shirt that I can't read because he won't stop moving, and black tennis shoes. Every few seconds he reaches a hand up and fiddles with the gold chain around his neck, at the end of which is a tiny cross, which is one of the few things that remains of his parents.

He doesn't like people knowing he has a sentimental streak...

Right now he looks like he might have a heart attack if someone doesn't break the tension, so I tilt my head and rhetorically prompt, "Nervous?"

Returning a fake laugh, he quickly stifles the mocking mirth and draws his expression into a scowl. Slapping both hands onto the counter, he leans down forcefully, which makes the booth shake and causes some of the hanging prizes to rattle. Looking around at the booth apologetically, he takes a deep breath, and his wild eyes calm as he flicks the ruined pencil away before asking, "Does it show?"

"Naaah!" I reply sarcastically, immediately starting to laugh hysterically.

Quickly leaning back to avoid his swipe at my arm, I watch him swallow hard and look toward the back of the booth, apparently noticing Naoko. Tensing for a second, he quickly remembers she can't hear him, then narrows his eyes again and accuses, "This is all your fault!"

Moi? Little old me?

Wiping tears out of my eyes from the bout of laughter, I pat the air and shake my finger at him. Still giggling, I retort, "Oh, no-no-no! You brought this on yourself, String-Bean!"

Frowning, he drops his head down somberly and starts to say, "I guess I did, but-" Biting his words back, he lifts his head and centers his eyes on me with a accusatory stare. "This wouldn't be happening if you hadn't said anything!" he exclaims, throwing his hands up in exasperation. Narrowing his eyes again, he adds, "I thought we had a deal?"

Speech time!

Since I haven't seen him since we left the classroom yesterday, I've had some time to come up with an appropriate response to any and all of his complaints. Taking a deep breath, I decide not to hold anything back. "The fact is it was time – now or never! And what better time than the festival? This is where it started, after all – you've been at each other for a year... Besides, everyone else knows – Naoko included," I recite, pointing my thumb over my shoulder for emphasis, "And I'm sure the rest of the school does, too."

I honestly don't know how the two of them didn't...

After a short pause, I center my gaze on his melancholy countenance and continue, "The only ones who remained blissfully ignorant were probably the two of you. And, yes, that means Amaya's just as googly for you, so don't give yourself a complex – it's mutual!" As I'm speaking, I watch his face move from embarrassment to anger, then bewilderment.

It's a lot to take in, I guess...

"You two have basically been walking side-by-side for the past year, so all I did was knock your parallel lines into a tangent," I add with finality. The mathematical reference only came to me just now, but I like how it sounded. Emboldened, I decide to push a little further by adding, "So, maybe... instead of coming here and bothering me while I'm killing Nazis, you should be thanking me!"

I've wanted to say that for months... it feels better than I thought it would.

Petulantly, he spends a few seconds scowling at me, then steps back from the counter and folds his arms. Once it sinks in a bit more, he settles on a serene smile, offers a sagely nod, then raises an eyebrow. "She's really been-"

"Yes," I interject, having guessed the rest of his question.

Pointing at me, now with both eyebrows raised, he prompts, "And you?"

"Daily," I sigh, shrugging at the memory; I know there are probably new problems coming, but I really am glad this part is over.

As I shake my head resignedly, he aims his eyes skyward like yesterday, contemplating – turning the gears – then looks back and offers a bow. "Thank you, then... and I apologize," he says solemnly, "That cannot have been a comfortable arrangement for you."

The sincerity is dwarfed by how practiced his reply sounded, but that isn't anything new; he probably expected this outcome and had that reply prepared – typical fare from Tadao. Returning the bow, I set about reopening my laptop as I dismissively explain, "Nobody's fault, really. You could have done something months ago, and so could I, and so could Amaya. Let's just be happy that torment is over..."

I can't help thinking a new torment is beginning, though...

With another nod, he leans back and stuffs his hands in his pockets. When his eyes start scanning beyond me and my booth, I get the feeling he isn't just here to complain or apologize. "Speaking of torment," he says, trying to sound nonchalant, "have you... seen Amaya?"

Ah, there it is: the true reason rears its ugly head...

Smirking at his question, I decide to act a little coy; I think he deserves as much. "Short, skinny, neck-length black hair, dimples?" I describe, watching his eyebrows sink angrily with each word, "Loves books, hates hospitals, always has a snappy comeback, and never wears panties?" I continue, slipping that last one in just to make him blush, "I see her most every day, so, yes... I've seen Amaya."

Grinning derisively, I offer him raised eyebrows, but he doesn't look at all amused. His face sours and he flips his head back to toss a stray hair off his nose, then leans a little closer. Leveling his eyes and pointedly keeping a smile off his face, he asks in monotone, "I meant today. Have you seen her today?"

Tadao's murder-face is more adorable than it is scary.

Leaning against the counter, I look down at my laptop and notice that a stray NPC has apparently killed me – that's what I get for stalling. Turning up at him, I smile and reply, "No, I didn't see her this-morning before I got here, and she hasn't been by..."

Pivoting at the waist, he scans the area, presumably looking for Amaya, his eyes seeming to grow more concerned with each passing moment. The consternation in his expression is palpable, and he looks adorably lost, but I think there's more than nervousness in his demeanor. If I were to guess, I'd imagine he's picturing all kinds of horrible things, probably related to her epilepsy. It really wouldn't be surprising since, even though the three of us have been friends for so long, she keeps the details of her condition a closely guarded secret.

Ostensibly, I wouldn't have known if not for an embarrassing incident during my first week at Yamaku, and she hadn't even told him about the affliction before the festival last year; at the time all she said was that the noise frightened her. Considering she just had a seizure two days ago, he's probably concerned that she'll have another one anytime now. Just like me back in those first few shaky weeks, the infrequency of her attacks doesn't seem to dawn on him, so I decide relieve some of his worries.

"She isn't a porcelain doll, y'know," I advise sympathetically, but with a hard edge, "So, you don't have to worry quite so much - she probably won't have another seizure for a while yet..."

"I'm just nervous," he states, though I think he's just trying to convince himself. Maybe I misread his concern, but it's taking an unusually long time for his thoughts to congeal; I'm used to it, but sometimes it's tedious waiting through his long pauses. Finally, after a small eternity, he finishes the thought by asking, "What if she doesn't show up?"

It's a simple question, and I wonder at how long it took for him to arrive at such a simple question, but he's not great at conversation; he usually spends too much time thinking about what to say. Knowing that he sometimes needs a giant sign written in bold script, I decide to provide a nice, direct answer, "Then I'll go find her and give her a swift boot in your direction." Finishing with a wink, I look back down at my laptop and chide, "In the meantime, stop looking so anxious – it's unmanly."

My emasculating comment seems to fall flat, but he's distracted with scanning the horizon, so I won't feel bad. After another long pause, he says, "Well, if you see her-"

"I'll tell her you were looking for her," I finish his request and huff a breath, waving my hand to shoo him away. "Go... wander around a bit," I suggest, blatantly trying to get rid of him, "I'm sure she's just taking her time getting dressed – she's probably trying to make herself look beautiful for you, ya big stud~!"

I don't think I'll ever call him that again... it felt ever so wrong...

"That can't be difficult for her," he says, almost absently as he continues scanning the horizon.

Obviously he doesn't know about the new yukata, but I think he probably assumed she would be wearing one, so I decide to drop a hint. "Look for white, pink and black," I describe absently, focusing on the loading screen as I add, "She'll probably have ribbons in her hair, too..."

Not seeing his nod as I wait for the loading bar to fill, I can still sense his thanks. Hearing him wander away, I restart the campaign mode and go back to letting time sink away. Soon after, Naoko comes to ask why Tadao was here, but I'm less specific than she probably desired; I don't mind if the whole school knows they're finally dating, but I don't think the should be public information, and broadcasting their coupling is their decision. Of course, I'll be squeezing all the information I can out of Amaya at my earliest convenience; I'm her best friend, so I need to know.

At least that's what I tell myself.

The morning turns into afternoon, and I continue playing my game in between working with the slow trickle of contestants. Naoko's shift ends at noon, and she departs, giddily darting toward the girls dorm – presumably to change – when Yoko Guidot arrives to relieve her. Realizing I haven't talked to Yoko much, I recall she sits in the far corner of the class, so she's a little too far away for us to end up grouping together. She just transferred to Yamaku at the beginning of the school year, and I gave her the initial tour, but I haven't seen her around much since then.

I wonder how a tall girl with red hair blends in so easily.

If I recall correctly, she's in a dorm only a few doors down from my own, but she must be something of a wallflower or a shut-in because I never see her outside of class. As it turns out she's quite personable, which seems to indicate she isn't a wallflower, but she might just be talking out of nervousness – I'm the Class Representative, after all, and that might be intimidating. The way she speaks with such a polite tone, and the straightness of her poise indicate she comes from a regimented background of some kind, though I don't want to pry.

Mentioning she's of French descent and has Canadian parents, her freckled, cream-colored skin and bright-red locks of curly hair suddenly make sense. She speaks Japanese like a native and, having Canadian parents, she also speaks flawless English along with some French, but I envy her mastery of English, especially. Apparently she's deaf in her right ear – opposite of mine, fancy that – but hasn't bothered learning to sign yet. That's hardly surprising; there are a several of us who can translate verbally in groups, so it really isn't necessary.

Tadao and I are on that list, and Rajin tries, but he only has the one hand...

Having partial deafness in common, we share some stories about the issues it causes, but the conversation is mostly light; I avoid talking about being teased due to my resulting clumsiness. Meanwhile, she avoids talking much about her background, which might just be due to our essentially being strangers, but the way she looks away despondently when I ask about her family tells me otherwise. As time wears on, our conversation dwindles, and I focus on my monitor. Strangely, I think she's watching over my shoulder with interest, but I could just be imagining that.

I know I'm not the only gamer girl at Yamaku, but we're rare...

Right around twelve thirty, a familiar pair of faces appear in front of me. One of them wearing her determined grin, and the other sporting her Cheshire cat smile, Shizune and Misha stand side-by-side wearing their school uniforms rather plainly. It's a bit surprising to see Misha isn't wearing any extra decoration, but Shizune probably wouldn't allow her that kind of leeway. The Student Council should appear official at the festival, or so Shizune might say, but I think she just prefers to look official even when it isn't necessary.

She takes the Class President position seriously – to a fault at times.

Now that the festival is actually here, they're acting as overseers to ensure everything is running properly, or at least I think that's the idea. On some level it's more of an annoyance than anything else, but I'm not terribly surprised by their unexpected appearance. Curiously, I notice Yoko has frozen in place toward the back of the booth, and I'm not sure why that is exactly, but it likely has something to do with our guests. Standing, I close the laptop to hide my frivolous pass-time and greet them with a generous smile and a cordial nod.

Blissfully ignoring the fact that I don't need the translation, Misha's lilting voice – which I'm almost certain Naoko could hear if she hadn't left – follows Shizune's deft signing. "Hi, Aiko-chan~!" she booms, "Shicchan was wondering if you've had a busy morning~."

Her drill-like pink hair bobs playfully as she speaks, distracting me from what she's saying for a moment. Once I've taken a second to realize the situation, I wonder at the odd question. They both know the festival proper hasn't actually started yet, but here they are asking how busy our booth has been. Obviously they have some ulterior motive, but Shizune is usually much more direct than that, and I'm a little concerned why she's skirting the issue; I suspect her reason is forthcoming, though I'm cringing at the possibilities.

I feel like I'm about to get tricked into more work...

Deciding not to bother speaking, I sign back, [It's been pretty slow, really. Though you already knew that since the festivities haven't officially started yet. Why are you here, really?]

Shizune places her hands on her hips and gives me a stern look, but it softens quickly and she leans back and grins deviously. [I heard about your discussion with Nakai,] she signs, and Misha starts to speak, but Shizune elbows her side – I guess she wants this to stay covert, [And, while I can't condone your method, I'm impressed with your initiative – he isn't even in your classroom, and you're volunteering to help.]

She came all the way out here to compliment my initiative...?

While I'm glad to hear some praise for my exploits, I don't think I like where this is going. Swallowing the foreboding lump in my throat, I try to smile, but realize it's somewhat futile. Having never been particularly good at hiding my emotions, I accept whatever expressions cross my face as I answer, [Yeah... He was saying that he might just sleep the day away. I couldn't let him do that.]

Smiling brightly, though still with that devious edge, she replies, [Neither could I.]

Now she turns and steps to the side slightly, then looks past Misha. Her devious smile redoubles as she her eyes settle on a figure looking in the other direction. It takes a few seconds for the realization to hit, or maybe for the disbelief to wear away, but I feel my eyes widening, and I have to stifle a gasp. My cheeks start to feel hot, and I quickly look away toward my laptop to try and hide the blush, which is probably in vain. Evidently they brought the new guy out here with them, and now all I have the sense to do is stare blankly at my closed laptop.

Like Illidan's been saying: I am not prepared...!

Feeling it more than I hear it, I notice Shizune gently tapping on the counter, trying to get my attention. Looking up slowly, I hear Misha's laugh almost immediately. "Wahaha~!" she booms, tossing her head back and continuing to laugh in earnest.

Laugh it up, Bubblegum Fairy...

Luckily, Hisao is still looking away, but I see him visibly flinch upon hearing the booming laughter. While Misha is distracted, Shizune starts signing again. Unfortunately, I've found myself somewhat distracted as well – I guess he really likes sweater-vests... and tight khaki slacks – so she bumps Misha to get her talking. Leaning on the counter, Misha's supposedly clandestine whisper is still loud, but it's closer to the level of normal speech; her voice is usually a few decibels above that of a teacher lecturing an auditorium.

Using a microphone... turned to eleven...

Turning her gaze back toward Hisao, she explains, "We had to go brow-beat him into getting out of his dorm room~!"

They went to his room? Isn't that a little too forward?

Well, they are the Student Council, so I guess it's within their boundaries, but I wonder what could be so important. While I'm pondering internally, Misha is still talking, but the whisper begins to fade as she's clearly more excited than the situation seems to warrant. "Hicchan tried to weasel out of it~, but Shicchan convinced him to go for a walk with us," she explains, still speaking for Shizune, "and he explained about your im-pass-ion-ed speech."

Listening to her hang on the big word makes me smile reflexively, but the content of her message leaves me somewhat bewildered. If my guess is right, they're bringing him out here to make good on his promise to accompany me at the festival, but their motives elude my understanding – It's probably nothing good. By now I'm looking back at Shizune, having finally torn my gaze away from Hisao's backside – I may or may not have been ogling – so she gives Misha another bump to silence her translations, then continues signing.

[He said he was inspired to come, but didn't know where you would be,] she signs, turning a glance at Hisao before reaching up to tweak her glasses triumphantly and add, [So, we decided to show him where to find you, thus ensuring your goodwill gesture doesn't go to waste.]

Oh... Oh, wait...! Oh no...

If I'm not mistaken, she has figured out – by unknown means – that my interest in Hisao may not be completely rooted in simple concern for the new student. Smiling despite my sudden discomfort at that realization, I see Shizune patting the air, which is either a gesture of sympathy or a request for attention – probably the latter. As she leans forward conspiratorially, her eyes taking on a competitive glint, and, apparently trying to cut Misha out of this part of the conversation, she signs close to her body in clandestine fashion.

[Now that the players are in place, and the stakes are set,] she signs, grinning like a bobcat, [...The game's afoot, Miss Kurai.]

The cryptic challenge is somewhat bewildering, but the narrowed look, and the competitive, cat-like grin are entirely unsettling. Apart from the obvious glee, Shizune's expression is strangely neutral, which is obviously a deception; it's like a poker face. Clearly this is her initiating a competition, but she's being dodgy about the details. Still, while the rules of engagement and the game itself haven't yet been defined, I'm pretty sure she and I are the "players", and, from the way she's smiling and the repeated glances toward Hisao, I think I can discern the "stakes".

I think she's declaring a war for his affections...

If that's the case, she's being rather fair about it; she's brought him right to me on the day of the festival – maybe she's trying to lose. Knowing her, it's probably just a ploy, but she hasn't yet explained how this game is played. As Shizune leans away again, establishing her cocky grin and placing a hand on her hip, I wonder how she plans to fight this war – if it really is a war. Having played Risk with her and lost spectacularly, I know she's something of a master strategist and manipulator, but I never thought she would go so far as to turn romance into a contest.

I don't think it's much of a stretch, but still...

Maintaining her cocky grin, Shizune stands upright – presumably to end the clandestine exchange – and starts signing, [I understand you're taking Yoshida's shift, so you won't be able to escort Nakai around until a bit later,] she flashes a triumphant smile, [Therefore, Misha and I shall accompany him until your shift ends.]

Frowning, I realize her strategy; evidently she's playing white in this chess game, which makes the first move hers, and she's opening with a blitz – I'm crossing metaphors, but it makes sense in my head. That seems unfair, but if I know one thing about Shizune, it's that she knows all is fair in love and war. Quickly deciding to make a play of my own, I ready a weapon Shizune can't possibly possess – at least not directly. Directing a cocky grin of my own toward Shizune, I turn in Hisao's direction; if it's a war she wants, it's a war she'll get.

"Hey, Hisao~!" I call to him loudly, and in the most girlish, sing-song voice I can manage, "So glad you made it out~!"

Where was that confidence two days ago?

As he turns, my cocky smirk turns into a sweet, girly smile accompanied by a fast-paced wave, and I beckon for him to come closer. Meanwhile, Shizune casts a scowl at me, apparently understanding I've figured out her plan, but, much to her frustration, she can't protest without jeopardizing her position. As Hisao wanders over, I notice that he's still in his school uniform, complete with a black tie, shiny black loafers and another dorky sweater-vest. Maybe I shouldn't say dorky, though, since it still seems to suit him so well – eclectic might be a more fitting term.

It seems he really likes sweater-vests since this one looks different – it's argyle instead of the more baroque pattern he wore on Friday – but I wonder if he even owns any casual clothes. If he was rushed, he might have forgotten to pack any casual wear, but that sounds ridiculous. Maybe whatever backwater burg he hails from doesn't have any good shopping centers, or perhaps he just always dresses formally. Keeping those curious thoughts off my face rather successfully, I smile contentedly as he steps up into the space between Shizune and Misha.

"Morning Aiko," he greets, Aiming a sleepy smile at me.

Looking toward Misha knowingly, I sweetly chide, "It's already after noon, y'know."

Meanwhile, Misha tries to sign my words, but Hisao is blocking Shizune's view, and she's too prideful to change positions. At most it will just delay their communication, but it's a happy coincidence. It's possible he's doing so intentionally, although it's more likely he just doesn't realize he's being an obstruction; he isn't yet accustomed to accommodating handicaps. Using Shizune's deafness against her might be unfair, I realize, but she's using my festival schedule against me, so I think we're even.

While I marvel at the situation, Hisao scans around the inside of the booth with those big green irises. Inspecting the game thoughtfully, he smiles briefly, and I wonder if he might be remembering something from a past festival, but I'm probably reading into his expression too much. When he leans a little closer and squints toward the fish bowls, presumably trying to discern which ones have goldfish at the bottom, I notice his eyes aren't green at all; they're actually brown. Now that we're in natural light, I'm guessing it was a trick of the fluorescent lights.

I like green better, but brown eyes can be dreamy, too...

Leaning away and stretching into a yawn, he picks up where we left off and explains, "Y-yeah, well... I slept in," he shrugs apologetically, "...And, I was about to head out to try and find you when these two," he points to his sides, indicating the duo, "appeared at my door ready to drag me to the festival – kicking and screaming if necessary."

At that, Shizune scowls – evidently Misha is getting some of the conversation across – but he disarms her irksome look with a broad grin – he's really quite disarming. That causes Misha to break out laughing, which scares some of the nearby festival-goers into a quicker pace. Meanwhile, Shizune aims an impatiently raised eyebrow at me and starts signing. With Hisao between them, Misha can't see what her friend is signing, so she sputters a bit, but quickly gives up trying to translate.

[Nice move,] Shizune signs, dipping into a slight bow. [We'll be back just before Yoshida's shift ends.]

"Thank you," I say, acknowledging her deference to my tactical advance; I don't bother signing it, but Shizune understands my meaning. She answers with a slight nod as I turn to Hisao and explain, "I would have come and found you a bit later, but I'm trapped here for a while."

Glancing back at the inside of the booth, I see Yoko thumbing through a box, trying to look like she isn't eavesdropping. Realizing I'm looking her way for the first time since Shizune and Misha arrived, she quickly stands and tries to look innocent, but I don't really mind her snooping. Since she hasn't learned sign language, she probably doesn't know any more than Hisao at this point, but she's offering a supportive smile, and I'll take all the support I can get.

Turning back to Hisao, I smile and continue explaining, "I'll be here until one-thirty with Yoko." I point a thumb over my shoulder, indicating the tall, red-haired girl he hasn't met, "But, in the meantime... These two kindhearted souls," I smile and nod at the Student Council as I speak, "have graciously volunteered to help show you around until then."

Seeming deflated by the news, he sputters, "So you're not? I-I thought... O-Oh..."

Maybe he was expecting me to abandon the booth...? Or hoping I would...

Technically, since I'm the one making up the schedule, I could call in a substitute, but that just wouldn't be proper, and Shizune would probably consider that a foul. Then again, maybe he's still being bombarded with Student Council recruitment requests and isn't looking forward to walking around with them for an hour – can't say I blame him. Whatever his reason, I think he realizes that obligation is causing the delay rather than reluctance on my part – I hope so, anyway. Displaying that lost puppy look, he glances at Misha, then turns to Shizune and shrugs.

"Well, I'll be back, then," he concedes in a hopeful tone.

Keep your composure, Kurai.

Grinning, I try to hold the blush back, which seems to make it all the more fierce. The thought occurs to me that letting Hisao see the blush might score me some points, but I'd rather not have everyone in a hundred foot radius spreading silly rumors. Looking back down at my laptop nonchalantly, I pop it open this time, and gracefully hide the blush behind my hair. Meanwhile, apparently realizing that he's been blocking the other two from conversing, Hisao mumbles an apology and takes a step back.

Soon after, Misha starts signing and speaking, "We'll be back in about an hour, Aiko-chan~!"

As she speaks, I think of another card to play, but I'll need time to change into my new yukata at the end of my shift. All I should need is fifteen minutes, though, and it might disappoint Hisao in the short term, but I doubt Shizune will refuse getting some extra time to wander around with the prize – I probably shouldn't think of him that way.

Turning up with an innocent smile, I don't sign as I nonchalantly ask, "Can you make it ninety minutes?" Turning back down and focusing on the monitor – to sell my innocence – I explain, "Jun and Toru are up next, so I might have to wait for my replacement."

It's a tactical lie, but a plausible circumstance; those two boys are well-known for frequent tardiness. Since I'm looking down and away, Misha can't really read any potential deception on my face, so she just signs it back to Shizune in earnest. They both turn away, and Shizune signs something back that I can't see, but, out of the corner of my eye, I observe a prideful smile on her face. It appears as though she hasn't realized my deception, so all I have to do is keep my head down and wait – I might actually be winning this little exchange.

Misha speaks again a moment later, "Okay, okay~! We'll be back around two, then, Aiko-chan~! Don't tell her we'll be watching, Misha." Stopping, she covers her mouth and I look up to see her glancing nervously at Shizune. "Oops~! Wahaha~!" her laughter seems to shake the key-chains hanging in the booth, making them rattle – maybe it was just the breeze, though. Turning an ashamed frown toward Shizune, she adds, "Sorry, Shicchan~!"

It's always weird watching her sign and talk to a deaf girl...

Shizune glares at her, and someone who didn't know her might well be fooled, but it looks practiced to my more experienced eyes. There isn't quite as much bluster in the look, and that makes me think this is an attempted psych-out. If it is, I think she knows I'll realize her scheme, but it's bound to work anyway. Even if I don't really think they'll be watching – they'll be wandering around with Hisao, presumably – it will still make me jumpy and self-conscious. It's one last gut-punch, just to keep me honest.

Realizing I'll have to take special care when I weave my way back through the crowds to go change into my yukata, I nod at Shizune with narrowed eyes. Grinning victoriously, she turns away and beckons Misha and Hisao to follow along with a loud snap of her fingers. The pace of their exits varies; Misha veritably runs after her while Hisao lingers for a while, aiming a few furtive glances at me that bring the color back to my cheeks, which I realize doesn't bother me as much as it did before.

I think he's blushing, too...

When they've disappeared into the crowd, Yoko walks up to the counter next to me and smirks. "So, Shizune declared a war, I take it," she surmises with a smirk. A cat-like grin replaces the smirk as she adds, "I may not know what it's about, but I'm sure you can take her."

Evidently, even though she could only have caught snippets of the discussion, she picked up on the conversation enough to unscramble the content. Uncertain how she could know I'd be capable of defeating Shizune – if that's what this comes to – I smile dumbly and nod thankfully at her vote of confidence; I hope she's right – if not for my sake, then for Hisao's. The look on his face as Shizune paraded him away was somewhere between confusion and distress, and I wonder how far he is from breaking down and joining the Student Council.

I really regret supporting their case, in retrospect...

Now that I've had a chance to cool down and start to think logically, I also wonder whether the interest he seemed to have in me is greater or lesser than what he displayed for Shizune, which is more apparent in hindsight. Maybe he was just being courteous again, but I'm not sure whether his courtesy was meant for her or me. Also, forcing him to make that choice doesn't sit well; the idea of competing for his affection is somewhat off-putting morally, but I'm not the one who tossed the gauntlet.

I'll have to win this war to ensure his safety...

As the afternoon continues, Misha's slip of the tongue – a tactical psychological bomb lobbed by a strategic genius – keeps me looking up from my laptop repeatedly. When the crowds start getting busier, I have to abandon my laptop completely. This being Yoko's first year at the Yamaku Festival, she's somewhat shy and uncertain, so she often defers to my experienced judgment. Thankfully, her shyness doesn't stop her from quickly refilling empty hooks with more prizes from the boxes, and she ensures the walls look nicely stocked with plenty of variety.

Still, I do most of the talking, and the crowds begin piling up such that we no longer have any downtime, but at least the boredom is over. Now that there's a crowd, I join in with their laughter and exclamations, and our ticket bin starts to fill rather quickly. When the announcement comes over the loud-speaker that the festival has officially begun, we can barely hear it over the jovial crowd. Reflexively checking my watch, I know my – Tadao's – shift is up in thirty minutes, but I don't want to be caught unaware; I need the time to get changed.

Repeatedly glancing into the crowds, I keep a look out for the most distinct indicator of Shizune's likely presence; Misha's pink hair. It occurs to me that she might send Misha to stalk around nearby, just to distract me and further my nervousness, but I doubt she'd send her translator away considering Hisao doesn't understand sign language. She could pass notes with him, I guess, but she hates that practice – she doesn't even like sending text messages over the phone.

As she seems to be getting a lot of attention, Yoko starts to take a more active role in running the booth. The nearby town, and probably most of the visiting parents and families aren't used to seeing foreigners, so they have a lot of questions; they don't realize she was actually raised in Japan, but Yoko is too kind to correct their mistake. Given how quiet she had been for most of the shift, I assumed she was shy, but now she's much more relaxed and talkative, and that leads to some more stories.

While we're collecting tickets and dolling out prizes, she explains how her father, Pierre Guidot, is a businessman from Canada who moved to Japan with his wife in the late eighties to fill an executive position overseas. Evidently her parents gave their daughter a Japanese name in honor of the continental change, but I think it's just as likely a nod to The Beatles. In any case, it seems like the earlier reticence she showed when I asked about her family may have just been due to nervousness.

I'm not certain on that, though...

As I'm observing the crowd's complimentary interest in Yoko and getting to know her a little better, I lose all track of time. Even after our two replacements, Toru Tanaka and Jun Uematsu, arrive – on time, no less – we all continue working with the crowd until I happen to glance at my watch. Leaping back at the startling realization that I've wasted almost fifteen minutes of my changing time, I duck down, grab my laptop, wave a happy farewell to the remaining trio, and dart away as quickly as my feet - and my balance – will take me.

Spectacular. So glad I could stick with the plan.

Having no time for it, I don't bother checking for Shizune or Misha's prying eyes as I push my way through the crowds; I'll just have to rely on luck. Besides, there are pockets of people everywhere, and I could waste an hour just trying to identify them all along the way. Sprinting into the girls' dorm, I dash up the steps, run down the hall, and burst into my room. Safely behind the door, I lean against it and pause for a brief moment to catch my breath; I just ran faster than I have in weeks.

Breath caught, I set my laptop down on my bed, climb through the mess to my closet, and dig out my new yukata. Repeatedly looking at my watch seems to waste more time than just going about dressing, but I can't help myself. It's like I'm being held in a pit with a bladed pendulum slowly swinging overhead, mocking my need to rush, begging me to stop and look even as my doom approaches. Of course, it's not that dramatic; I'm not facing an execution. However, if I'm late, Shizune will see it as a defeat on my part, and I have no intention of letting her win.

Finally, I tie the obi around my waist and slip into the decorative, green geta – sandals – that match the ribbon in my hair. Recalling having painted my toenails a few nights ago, I'm glad for a moment that I'm an insomniac; it helps me get things done, sometimes. Standing in front of the mirror, I scan over my reflection with trepidation. The yukata fits comfortably, highlights my curvy figure, and the pattern works wonderfully with my hair just as it did yesterday afternoon. Seeing my contented smile, I'll have to remember to thank Miyoto for his excellent design sense.

Later, though.

With my hair done up the way it is with the green ribbon, I decide I look rather stunning and cute in a girly way, and I hope that's what Nakai thinks, but I also hope I'm not overdoing things. It pains me to remember this isn't a date, it's just a tour. This is my job as a Class Representative and concerned student. My motives may not be wholly altruistic, and I might hope for something more than a platonic friendship with Hisao, but winning the war with Shizune is for his benefit as much as my own.

Right...?

Deciding to be cautious, I lock my door in the event that Shizune decides to engage in field reconnaissance while Hisao and I are out wandering. Honestly, I doubt she'd stoop that low, but I don't know how seriously she's taking this competition; it's an unsettling thought. There really isn't anything in my room that would indicate any weaknesses she hasn't already learned about; she already knows I'm a slob and a gamer. It's possible she doesn't know my romantic history is almost nonexistent, but I'm pretty sure we're on equal footing there.

She's quite attractive for a girl, but I'm pretty sure most of the boys in school are afraid of her...

Taking a last look at my watch, I realize I have just enough time to walk, slowly, confidently, down to the booth to await Hisao's return with the Student Council. Of course, knowing I have enough time doesn't stop me from running all the way there, albeit at a slower pace than my mad dash to the dorms, especially now that I'm wearing these shoes. Smiling and nodding at the approving looks – and cat calls from Toru and Jun – I make it back to the booth and calmly walk around behind the counter.

My yukata draws a few grins from the crowd as well, which seems to have depleted now that Yoko has vanished. The two boys are uncertain why I came back, but I don't get time to explain – not that I would bother. When Shizune appears behind the crowd with Misha and Hisao in tow, I step out around the booth into view. Making a face somewhere between shock and anger upon seeing me in the yukata, she folds her arms in front of her and nods. The look she offers seems to say, "brilliant move," though I don't think she would use such an emphatic adjective.

Misha dances over to me and happily giggles, seeming to ignore my deception; either that, or she doesn't realize it was deceptive. "Wahaha~!" Her laugh makes me cringe, but I smile anyway, trying to turn my deaf ear in her direction. She lightly touches my shoulders, grinning wildly as she looks me over. "I love your yukata, Aiko-chan~! You look so pretty~!" she compliments. Turning away, she asks Hisao, "Doesn't she, Hicchan~?"

Caught off his guard by the loaded question, he blushes fiercely and shuffles on his feet, not giving an verbal answer, though his reaction indicates that he likes what he sees. Alternatively, maybe he doesn't want to say what he actually thinks because it might hurt my feelings. Then again, he's blushing so hard, I think his face might pop. Given the reaction he had when I caught him staring in the math lab – when he made up a question to justify his ogling – I'm not surprised he looks so awkward at being asked such a blundering – or tactical – question.

Does Misha understand that Shizune and I are competing?

Shizune looks on with a wondering expression, having no real idea what we're saying since her translator is looking the other way and I'm not filling in the blanks. Suddenly, Misha steps off to the side and starts signing to Shizune, and then there's nothing between Hisao and myself except a few meters of air. We lock eyes, awkwardly at first, but we both relax quickly. He's smiling and nodding, which is kind of sweet and innocent – almost child-like. The blush is fading, but he can't seem to tear his eyes away from me, and I'm frozen just the same.

Smiling back, I feel strangely light and entranced. The sounds around us seem to go silent, and I feel like I've slipped out of time. Even Misha's boisterous voice fades into the ether as we – Hisao and I – stand here, each lost in a contemplative gaze. Maybe this is what it's like to pass through one of those portals in that game I feel like I was playing ten years ago, and stare into a vortex between worlds. Gazing at his friendly expression, I sense that I've found a kindred spirit, which doesn't make sense, especially since I'm not a spiritualist.

I leave spiritualism to Mom and her religion.

There's a childish quality to his posture, even though he's slouching a bit and keeps pawing at his chest. Maybe I barely know this guy, and I've barely said anything to him – nor him to me – but there's something in his eyes that begs to be known. It's mysterious and adorable, and I can't seem to look away, but it occurs to me that I don't want that. If the rest of the world really vanished right now, I don't think I'd be bothered. All I'm thinking in this rationally vacuous moment is that I have a keen desire to learn more about this mystery man.

I don't think it's a one-sided desire, either...

Suddenly, Shizune steps between us, effectively breaking the spell. The sound of the crowds and Misha's lilt fill the air again almost immediately, and I turn my gaze down to my feet. Embarrassed, I wriggle my toes absently as Shizune starts signing something, but I've averted my gaze, so I still can't read what she's saying. As I'm unable to look up, I'm not sure whether Hisao is experiencing the same thing, but I'm not really ashamed, so much as overwhelmed – it was like a brief out-of-body experience.

"Earth to Aiko-chan~!" Misha scolds, her voice echoing in my ear as I finally turn up to face her, "Shicchan asked you a question."

Looking at Shizune, I breathe an apologetic query, "Sorry, what?"

She grins wickedly at seeing my dreamy expression and rolls her eyes as she repeats the question, which, for once, Misha doesn't translate. [Are you well enough to show him around?]

There's a hint of concern in her look, and I realize it may have appeared as though I might faint. Thankfully, she doesn't seem to have noticed I was staring at Hisao, or at least that's how it seems. Since they aren't accusing me of anything, I'll keep that bit of information to myself. It's possible they did notice, and maybe Shizune decided not to say anything that would embarrass me further. In any case, whether it was real or not, I feel like I melded out of reality for a few seconds, so I'm not surprised if I look somewhat flustered.

Clearing my mind with a head shake, I give a quick nod and start signing, [Yeah, sorry – little dizzy spell is all.] It's another lie, but this time I don't look away; I think I'm getting the hang of lying, as much as I find that thought disturbing. [It's probably just the heat,] I add, nodding assuredly, [I'll be fine if I stay in the shade.]

Backing away, Shizune heaves a relieved sigh and offers an understanding smile. As she starts signing once again, Misha dutifully translates, "We leave Hicchan in your capable hands, then, Aiko-chan~! We've shown him some of the booths already, but I don't think he'll mind repeat visits~!" Smirking, she turns and winks at Hisao, who looks away and kicks the ground, which is another child-like gesture – he's cute when he's embarrassed. In response, she throws her head back and lets out another booming, "Wahaha~!"

I swear I just saw a bird explode into a shower of feathers...

Their charge transferred, Shizune beckons for Misha to follow and, after a nodding her cat-like grin at me, the two of them walk away, headed toward the dorms. Watching them go, I wonder whether they have master keys; they are the Student Council, so maybe locking my door was futile. Paling a little at the thought, I decide to brush it aside; I still don't think Shizune would sink that low. Even if she really wants to win this competition, which is something I'm still not sure of, I think she would want to keep it sporting.

I guarantee this war is far from over, though...

In the meantime, I'm now standing silently on a sidewalk less then two meters from the new guy, and I can feel his gaze boring into me. That's both comforting and frightening, and it presents a whole other series of questions. Now that we're alone together, I'll have to wrestle with perhaps my most unrelenting, devious, and genuinely underhanded opponent: myself. Assuming Shizune really does want to win, and isn't just engaging in some elaborate ploy to debase me for her own enjoyment, she did a fine job of setting me up to face my most antagonizing detractor.

Regrettably, the person best suited to screw this up is... me.