Empty Desk, Hurting Chests

Summary: Junpei skips class, making Yukari and Isako susceptible to some unexpected wisdom.

There was no baseball to play without a batter. She forced Minako to take her pitches instead, but it nothing felt right. No fun to be had in bullying someone with intelligence. No sexual tension to revel in. No dorky passion to rekindle Isako's dying hearth of a heart.

Isako sat behind her desk, dejected. Finally towards the end of the year, she could begin flexing what a degree in English literature truly gave: an understanding of poetry.

"Now what Lord Byron was exploring in this string of love poems is self-indulgence. To surround himself in extremity. That's what characterized the Romantic Era: extreme mood swings."

She couldn't help it. Isako was human too; sadness, anger. Her ire was directed to the absent seat in the back of the class, which held Junpei twenty minutes ago. Mr. Ono went out of his way to comment 'A full class. Ready for their bushido training!' The senile cosplayer was useful for something, at least.

The implication that Junpei was so adverse to seeing her that his class would be the only class he'd skip today proved painful. Getting the lecture over with was difficult, so she portioned off half of class time dedicated to close reading some of Lord Byron's poetry.

Her laptop magically reappeared onto her desk, with the hunting intention of checking any emails from firebeast93. Hopefully including a love letter and an apology, because skipping her class was a disrespectful move, and anyone who understood the inner machinations of a woman would do just so. Alas, no luck. The only thing left in her inbox was a ridiculously worded email from Mr. Ono that talked in circles before finally asking her to izakaya at the Iwatodai strip mall.

Honestly, maybe she'd agree. She supposed she needed a reliable and passionate Tatsuta. Just one wouldn't do.

Yukari's hands still soaked in apprehension, she pocketed them and allowed her mind to wander off Lord Byron's page and into Junpei Iori's. On it, stood a hero. Junpei's Oxfords crushed Mayas beneath him, his weight convinced a Table to go from Sleepy to Crying. An absolute beast of fire wreaking havoc on the Dark Hour, protecting his healer and his glass cannon from sustaining any real scratches. A punching bag for playful banter they both needed. A shoulder to lean on when she needed it. A confidant to share secrets with, when Minako and Mitsuru were the ones to be whispered about. Where did that hero go?

Left in that hero's wake was an empty desk and broken hearts.

"Need any help, dork?" Minako asked, kneeling between her and the next desk over. The warm embrace of her smile crafted a copycat on Yukari's face, which was always a welcome surprise. "Lord Byron getting on your nerves?"

"Just... yeah." If she seemed troubled, then perhaps she should hide her feelings somewhat better. There's no use in worrying the leader of Tartarus expeditions. The team depended on Yukari to heal, good and proper, and an Evoker to the face was difficult under this brand of duress.

In reality, she knew what she wanted to complain about. This wasn't the place for it, though. As such, Yukari spat "He doesn't understand what love is. These girls he's leading on, intentionally or not, hurt when he leaves. They love him. Dumbass. His only motive is eating his fill of girl and moving on and on and on."

"I'm not sure we're talking about poetry anymore," Minako giggled.

"Yukari. Love isn't a noun. Love is a verb. It's active. If these girls really were in love with him, wouldn't they show him, in some way? Wouldn't they fight for his attention and affection?" She continued. This little lecture actually earned the attention of those around her, which happened to include Ms. Toriumi behind the desk. Toriumi eyed her suspiciously, as if Minako was expending this effort on the her rather than Yukari. The dirty look was decently hilarious, and Yukari contemplated laughing just to get her mind away from the heavy words.

"These poems are all about how he shows the ladies his love. When he's tired of doing the loving and wants some back, he gets nothing. So he moves on, in hopes of someone showing him love back."

Yukari wanted to argue. Wanted to say that it shouldn't have to go both ways in the name of love, and that it could just be repaid down the road. She bit her tongue, though. It never did, and it never would be.

Lowering her volume, Minako leaned in to give them some semblance of privacy. Ms. Toriumi didn't intend on giving it to them, though.

"How can he know you love him back if you never show him? Maybe the new girl does that."

Minako rose from her knees, offered another smile, and crept back to her seat. The microcosm of the classroom didn't halt; the chatter around her refused to subside, and the white noise perhaps tried to set her to sleep. Ah, might as well be a Romantic and indulge that emotion! Yukari set her arm as a bar across her desk and hid her face from the world in a vain attempt to nap.

Thoughts bubbled back, burning her eyes. Her fault? Nonsense. She'd shown him love everyday. With... angry comments. Stupid nicknames. Any mook could understand Junpei Ace Defective was really a rough translation for "I love you," right? Especially the one who took care of her. Dumbass.

Her legs wrapped around each other like threads of a bracelet desperate not to be separated. And she kept her head down, padding her eyes in her sleeve. It was a bad day to wear eyeliner.

Those words stung Yukari's eyes.

Those words stung, sending Isako irate.

After concluding class, Isako rushed back to the faculty office to check her emails in peace. Scrolling through her conversation with firebeast93, she noticed that he listened. And listened. Never really stopping Isako to speak, firebeast93 was a friendly slate for her to bounce ideas off of, to slap her for a reality check, never really offering up conversation about himself.

And the most recent one she sent: a contrived message begging him to act while asking him not to. She wanted to be chased. But how could he chase her? It's not like she spelled it out. A drunk, flirty message was in no way, shape, or form, a love letter. Lowered inhibitions. Love was sober. That wasn't love, what she did. What she did, that was just confusing.

Junpei didn't know Isako and Maya were the same person. She huffed off at the mention of her other self. His absence wasn't a declaration of war; it was just an absence.

Isako would need to triple her efforts, not quit them. Minako's words stung harder. New girl? That didn't speak in riddles?

Time for a showdown.