A/N: Okay, so Naoi and Yuri are going to both have POVs for a couple of chapters. I was going to say that double line breaks means a perspective change - but apparently you can't do the double lines here? Oh well. It shouldn't be too hard to tell whose perspective it is.

Enjoy!

[Chapter 25]: Distance

It didn't hit him when he was walking home from school without her.

It didn't hit him in the afternoon when he wedged chunks of clay with balled fists. Nor at night when he blacked out as soon as his head made contact with pillow.

But on Thursday morning, he dragged his tired self to the fork in the path and not a soul was standing there waiting for him. Nothing and no one could have hit him harder.

He'd felt a blow to the stomach before. This was an entirely new kind of ache.

Ayato replayed the fight three times in his head on the way to school. Whenever he thought he'd finally shaken it off, he'd see Yuri's neighborhood in his peripheral vision, or pass the Maeda coffee shop on the sidewalk, and it'd start all over again.

Double-crosser, she'd called him. Edgy. Grouch. Entitled brat who needed to mind his own business. Each time, his brain added another insult to the table, some he wondered if he was just digging out of his imagination. But each time, it ended the same:

Not friends.

And fair enough, he'd spat a few choice words at her too. There were some things he felt were justified, things she needed to be called out for. Still...

He caught his reflection in a window display of televisions. Alone, a stark contrast to the group of girls on the news who'd just won a Battle of the Bands contest. Of the four girls, one looked oddly familiar in a way he couldn't quite place. Tall, with cool grey eyes and light brown hair pulled up in a ponytail. She was laughing with her friends, arm slung over the shoulder of a black-haired soulful-type girl who looked like she'd found a smile among a pile of pain. They had each other, she had a smile, and he was alone.

Was it worth it?

It was still early when he got to campus. That one group was rough-housing around their favorite tree again; the glasses guy – Fujimoto, was it? – was viciously shaking one of the branches while Takada was draped over it like laundry. If they kept knocking each other down like this they were all going to get brain damage.

Ayato scoffed and walked right past them into the building. They didn't notice.

Good.

When he entered the classroom, Hejjiguchi and Kurimu greeted him for half a second, but went back to talking about her mother's bakery or whatever the hell mattered to them. Leaving him to stare out the window in peace.

Good.

Ami strolled in five minutes later with two cans of Key coffee and an iced tea. She handed them out to her group and didn't greet him. She had the decency to drag Kurimu to the back corner with Hejjiguchi and do her heated whispering there instead of right in his ear.

Good.

It was good to be invisible again.

Turns out the heated whispering was about him. He learned that when Ami got caught with her cell phone during History, and the teacher asked her to read her friend's texts aloud. He angled in his seat to silently relish in the triumph of class-wide judgment-casting, but she looked straight ahead and then down at her phone as she read:

"No, didn't walk home with him today. He's a jerk. Just went home. I'll talk to you about it tomorrow."

The teacher rubbed his chin. "And what did you say back?"

Ami's voice wavered a bit. What's the matter, don't you like the spotlight? Ayato thought nastily. "I told you. The biggest jerk. Call me tonight if you'd like. I want to know the details."

Teacher nodded seriously. "I'm sure we all do. Who's the biggest jerk, Kawata?"

"I don't want to spread gossip," Ami said, her cheeks growing steadily rosier with mortification. "The classroom is no place for it."

"You're right about that," he said. Then he snapped his fingers and held his palm out in a beckoning gesture.

The class turned back around in their seats, following with their eyes as Ami did the walk of shame to the front of the classroom and let her phone be confiscated. Even Masuda, who had respectfully stayed put facing forward during her text recital, regarded her with mild pity until she returned to her chair.

Not Ayato, though, who smiled when he heard her phone drop into the box with a satisfying thump. She caught his smile and glared daggers back, then turned up her nose as she fell into her seat. As if she still had any dignity left from that embarrassing display.

He could feel eyes on him after that. Hejjiguchi's, Kurimu's, Ami's. Should have known Ami was telling them his personal business. Should have enjoyed the invisibility while it lasted.

Honestly, why were they so obsessed with them? Couldn't they just leave him alone and make out or something? If they didn't learn to keep to their own soon, well… he could just give Ami something else to talk about. He could damn well drop a certain truth bomb into their midst if he so pleased, that would make things interesting. He'd love to hear Ami's take on going behind Yuri's back when she found out her own best friends were dating behind hers.

Yes, that would keep her busy for sure.

He reconsidered when plagued with thoughts of Ami standing on top of her desk every day monologuing about utter betrayal, but still… The knowledge of that power within his grasp warmed him and got him through another two class periods.

Lunch came. His legs had carried him on autopilot down a hallway and a half before he realized what he was doing. He stopped in his tracks, tried to recalibrate and mull over his eating choices. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a flicker of wine red hair. He looked. It quickly disappeared around a corner.

Maybe he imagined it.

He hadn't thought about where he would eat lunch now. The weather was nice and warm, but he shouldn't eat outside. Yuri said once that it was her favorite spot, that she wished she'd claimed it last year. She'd probably claimed it now. Unless she was having lunch with her best friend Ami.

Ayato scoffed at the thought. He could see it now – Ami and her loving sidekicks disregarding the anti-four rule to crowd around Yuri's lunch table in solidarity. Maybe she even invited Masuda.

The border bench and the cafeteria were out. But he needed fresh air and a rest.

He retreated to the club room, opened the window, and dragged the nearest desk to it. Then he collapsed in the chair and closed his eyes.

"Are you sure? Let me know if you change your mind. We'll be in the cafeteria."

"Thanks," Yuri tapped out a short reply. "I just want to be alone."

She glanced up from her phone, staring out the hallway windows with a kind of longing. Sure, October was one of the most beautiful months of the year, and she should enjoy the pleasant feel of autumn while it lasted, but…

Outside, she might run into Naoi. Their spot – it was originally his. He'd discovered it first. That was where she first found him at this school. She was sure that if she tried to eat outside, she'd find him there again. The last thing she wanted right now was to not only see him today, but risk accidentally catching his eye the entire lunch period.

The roof? No, she doubted very much she'd be alone there. Ideally that was the place she should go, since she still needed a recruit, but… she couldn't think about that either.

That left the club room.

She strode down the necessary twists and turns until she got to the right hallway. Maybe she could crack open the window today. If no teachers were looking, it might be fun to sit on the edge. Let her feet dangle a bit. Think about nothing else but balance.

Her fingers grazing the door handle, she was just about to yank it open. Body pressed close enough to the door that her nose touched the glass. But then – the window was already open. And just below it—

Naoi. Asleep. Legs propped up on the desk, back sloped in the chair. His lunch on his lap, rising and falling with his stomach.

Closing her eyes, she mouthed a curse under her breath. This room too?! Why did he have to be so selfish—

She leaned too far forward and her hand pressed harder against the handle, the impact accidentally rattling the door. Her eyes shot back open and she recoiled, cursing again silently. Was it her imagination, or did his eyes just open a crack? Was he looking at her? Shit!

She ducked sideways and fled back the way she'd come. When she was far enough away and hadn't heard any doors sliding open, she fell against a wall and took out her phone.

"Changed my mind. I'll be there soon."

Hejjiguchi really could be annoying sometimes, Yuri decided in the middle of her last class.

She'd joined the three for lunch in the cafeteria as promised. But that didn't change the fact that she wanted to be alone. It was her unspoken wish that they would talk to each other while keeping her company, and simply let her mope. Leave her be as the silent observer.

But Hejjiguchi thrived on funny, and thought friendly jabs and nudges were the pinnacle of good therapy. He offered to make digs at Naoi's expense. Why would she want to spend a lunch period hearing or thinking about Naoi?

On top of everything, he kept teasing her about having "trouble in paradise." God, she never should have told him such a stupid lie. Now she was forced to deal with that dumb all-knowing grin on his face as he accused her of having "boy problems." Thought he was so smart because he had a girlfriend, one that she'd basically given him.

Ugh, intolerable! Naoi was right—

No, she never wanted to even think that again. Naoi was a moron too, just another dumb boy who thought he knew everything. And when he didn't know something, he still talked about it like his was word of God. Nothing from his mouth had any validity to it.

So she'd be lenient with Hejjiguchi and his amiable idiocy, if not out of spite (and because she knew she was just being grumpy). But if he made a comment about the "love department" one more time...

Ami thought his jokes were funny, no surprise there. But she had the good sense to cover her smile and look down in guilt. Kurimu just frowned nervously and asked if she slept okay, patted her hand a couple of times. Offered her a strawberry pastry from her home lunch. Yuri only managed to eat a few bites, so that made her feel bad too.

Guess there was no winning with her today.

After school, Yuri's phone got bombarded with texts, signaling that Ami had finally gotten her phone back. She asked her if she was sticking around today. If she wanted to hang out after drama club.

Yuri peered out the school window, regarding the track field with interest. She saw Hejjiguchi and Kurimu on their respective sides of a chain-link fence, talking close like separated literary lovers. She considered her options.

The house was still all hers. Theoretically, she could go home and let herself stew for a few hours, with a homework break in between. Or she could stay and play interceptor.

Her phone chirped at her. A text from Hejjiguchi.

"I know I have practice in 2 minutes but I just found a joke insult generator and put in Naoi's name. Here are my favorites."

She turned off her phone and walked out the door.

Going by the track record, Ayato truly wondered if this time of year was cursed.

Mid October through early November, that is. Or later. Autumn meant beautiful foliage, and decent weather, and festivals. Lots and lots of festivals. But what did people like at festivals? Music, of course. Dancing, decorations, lanterns, costumes, and art.

Including ceramics.

When festival-goers saw masterfully painted pots and complex designs on vases, it often filled them with a fleeting but overwhelming appreciation for all things pottery. There'd be a rush of customers new and old combing through their wares for new dishes, vases, and figurines. So to keep up with anticipated traffic and keep their shelves stocked, Kimito aggressively turned up the heat in the kiln (so to speak) and ignited a season of stress for the both of them.

To present a general idea of the norm during this time: tonight, Ayato fell too deep into his own mind and accidentally clutched the blade of a fettling knife too hard in his fist. He didn't notice until Kimito yelled at him. Not in concern, but the outrage of dripping blood all over the floor.

He dropped the knife and stared down at the long, thin cut in his palm. He thought of Yuri. He squeezed his fist closed and washed it off at the sink, then bound it in gauze and tape.

Kimito screamed at him again. He was "wasting valuable working time" and apparently "couldn't be trusted with sharp objects."

"You're useless, boy!" he hollered close to dinnertime when Ayato took too long fetching his box of loop and ribbon tools.

Ayato smiled sardonically. "So I've heard."

Kimito heard and hit him for it. He didn't care very much.

After dinner, and a couple more hours of work, he carried himself up the stairs. His mother, who had turned in early, heard him and poked her head out into the hall to say goodnight. He closed his bedroom door without a response.

In his tired state of mind he did feel badly for that. She'd seen his gauze-wrapped fist and fretted about it at dinner. Kimito told her to drop it and not coddle him or next thing they knew he'd be stupid enough to cut his whole hand off, but she still told him to remember to change the bandages.

"He should know that too," Kimito had said. "If he lets it rot, he learns by experience."

Mother had looked ill at the thought, so he reminded her gruffly to "take a joke, woman." Ayato and his mother shared a subtle, private look then, both finding that Kimito's sense of humor left something to be desired.

She probably thought that the look had bridged the gap between them. To him it was not a bridge, really. Incomplete if anything. More like a dock. If anyone tried to cross that, he wished them good luck.

He sat down at his desk with a weary sigh. No time to get anything done, not enough brain power to study.

What he did next, he blamed on muscle memory.

In all honesty, he didn't know what it was. A subconscious habit his short-circuiting brain decided to indulge tonight, a reflex from the summer. He opened a drawer, lifted some papers, picked up the walkie talkie. Clicked it on. Pressed his thumb on the talk button and opened his mouth.

"-!"

The noise died in his throat. He stared at his hand in disbelief, then retracted his thumb with a shameful blip.

What did he think he was going to say? What did he even want to say?

On a theory, he glanced at the clock. It was about the same time they used to talk to each other during the summer. Spooky in a way. He almost made a fool of himself.

What were the chances that she would be on, anyway?

What a joke. He dropped the walkie talkie back in the drawer like it was infected. He didn't really want to talk to her; they had nothing left to talk about. Nothing he cared about, nothing she cared to tell him. She could go ahead and share her recruitment rants with her new best friends. They could go on and on as much as they liked about what a big stupid jerk they thought he was, and the secrets of the forbidden Hisakawa, and their precious drama cl—

Tchh!

He snatched the walkie back up and examined it. What was that static…

Did someone just press a button?

He waited for a few minutes, like an idiot. Waited for a sound that wasn't dead. Out of mere curiosity. And then he realized he was talking to no one. He pressed the talk button again just to send a scoff into dead air. Clicked the power button. Buried the walkie in the drawer where it belonged. Turned off the light and went to bed.

He fell asleep an hour later.

The walkie made a weird noise when she clicked the power button.

Kind of a pfft. Did the batteries die?

She clicked it on, no problem, then back off again. The sound didn't repeat itself.

So what if it had, though? What did she care, she had no need for the damn thing anymore. The only reason she'd needed it was because of one now ex-best friend who didn't use a cell phone like a normal person.

She flung the device under her bed and turned off the lights.

As if they intensively plotted to disgust him every day, Hejjiguchi and Kurimu were already flirting when he came to class Friday morning.

Or, Kurimu was at her desk scribbling something on a white sheet of paper, and Hejjiguchi was currently perched on his knees in Ayato's chair coyly asking what she was doing.

"—drawing her a picture as a pick-me-up," she told him brightly.

"Looks good, will you draw me one?"

Ayato rolled his eyes heavily. Did they not walk to school with their dear friend Ami? Where was their discretion? One of these days she was going to walk in on something particularly nauseating – and mark his words, that would be the first and only time he'd side with Ami Kawata.

Once he got tired of Mr. Romance pointing at what looked like a butterfly wing and admiring the purple, Ayato cleared his throat.

"Out of my seat, Hejjiguchi," he said.

Hejjiguchi glanced up briefly and threw him a wispy grin. "Before class they're not assigned," he said cheerfully, and borrowed a maroon colored pencil.

Ayato nodded, pretending to mull this over.

"I guess you're right," he said. "But, isn't Kawata a fan of order? Where is she, we should get her opinion on it—"

"Then again, home is where the heart is!" Hejjiguchi leapt out of Ayato's chair and into his own.

"I think you meant, there's no place like home." Feeling possessive, Ayato rested his feet on his desk, then clicked his heels mockingly. "As in, these shoes could've taken you home in two seconds."

A chuckle from Hejjiguchi. "You wouldn't fight in front of a lady," he said. "Oh wait, who am I talking to? You'd even fight a lady."

Ayato scowled, dropped his legs, and went to turn around. "You listen here—"

"If you really wanna start something, buddy—"

"STOP IT!" Kurimu slammed a hand on her desk. Both guys realized simultaneously that they'd trapped her between their bickering. She pointed a sharpened pencil at Ayato, then at Hejjiguchi. "No one's starting anything! Stay in your seats!"

Hejjiguchi meekly settled again. Ayato grimaced and nursed his assaulted eardrums; they were never built to handle Kurimu's pitch.

"Yes ma'am," Hejjiguchi said lovingly.

A quiver of disgust traveled up Ayato's spine and into his throat. He rubbed his temples and, God help him, waited for Ami to come in. Whatever it took to break up the lovefest.

He blamed Yuri for this.

She ran into Hejjiguchi at the vending machines between second and third period. He was getting snacks for himself, Kurimu and Ami.

"Blueberry Cheesecake KeyKats are Kurimu's favorite," he said, totally unprovoked.

Yuri nodded and punched the button for her coffee. "Are you acting this sickeningly sweet around Naoi?"

"Yep," said Hejjiguchi. He didn't sound too insulted, more like tickled. Furtively, he glanced over his shoulder for a couple of seconds; then, satisfied, he turned back to Yuri. "It'll be one month for us in a few days, so who's acting, really?"

"Wow, a whole month." She snatched up the can as it rolled into the dispensing tray.

"And as a veteran of romantic relationships—" Yuri's eyes widened from the exertion of forcing herself not to roll them—"I really think you should talk to Naoi about whatever this is. Radio silence isn't going to fix anything. It'll just make things worse." He frowned then, when the snack machine failed to relinquish its hold on the KeyKats. He pounded a fist against the display.

Yuri's eyes narrowed. "What do you know about radio silence," she muttered, popping the lid and taking a sip.

Hejjiguchi pounded the machine a few more times. "Silent treatment. Yelling. Violence. It's never the answer." He backed up a couple of steps and sized up his foe, then started using his shoulder rather than his fist. "Avoidance is a big relationship killer. Yelling leads to spiraling. If you—oomf—care about someone, you've gotta—oomf—talk to the person."

Yuri watched in fascination, taking slow drinks of her coffee. Was he going to headbutt the damn thing next? It would probably make his hair static-y. Not that she'd be fully able to tell. Right now, she wasn't sure whether listening to him give her sensible advice on relationships while mauling the crap out of a vending machine was hilarious or infuriating.

"Now, granted, Kurimu's an easy person to talk to. I don't know what it's like with you and Naoi, but—" he paused, grunting as he started really putting momentum into it, "somehow I get the feeling he makes things more difficult. I'm sure that makes you want to run and hide, but when you've been in the game as long as I have—"

Her drink began to crinkle in her tight grip. A month…?

"—you learn that you can't hide forever." Hejjiguchi gave a definitive nod. "Not from the people you care about."

"I can try," she said wryly.

He sighed, shaking his head at her like he knew she thought she was a lost cause but he could save her. Oh, excuse her, Mister Love Doctor!

"You know, it may surprise you, but I used to be real scared of relationships." He squatted down on the ground and shoved his arm inside the dispensing slot. Up to the semi-muscled forearm. "That's why Ami's crush freaked me out. She has these bridal magazines, and, well, you know me. I wanna be free as a bird."

Yuri would bet every drink in the Key beverage vending machine he was going to get stuck. At this point, she would enjoy that immensely.

"But dating Kurimu taught me that you can be with a best friend. Through thick and thin. If we just talk to each other and stick it out," he grunted again, his fingers visibly wiggling in the display window, "there's no challenge we can't face!"

Had he always talked in clichés? She didn't remember Hejjiguchi ever being this corny. "Oh, so does that mean wedding bells?"

From the ensuing expression of sheer terror and cold sweats on his face, she might've thought the vending machine was about to tip over and crush him dead. Life flashing before his eyes and everything. What was that he said before about fear of relationships?

"Let's not get carried away," he said. His Adam's apple bobbed nervously.

Yuri hummed appreciably. That's right, one-monther.

She finished her drink, threw it away, and got another one. Apparently she was going to spend the whole break period here watching Hejjiguchi twist and squirm. It was quite a sight, really. She'd get popcorn too if he wasn't currently trying to help the snack machine give birth. If only...

"I know what you're thinking," he said, catching her eye. "Naoi would love to see this."

"I wasn't thinking that," Yuri lied, because that was exactly what had popped into her head.

"You're thinking about him right now."

"No I'm not," Yuri lied again, enraged. She kicked his leg.

He laughed at her, but cautiously wiggled his legs to the side. Did he think that would stop her? She wasn't the one with a limited moving range here.

"Can't just stop thinking about the ones you love because you got hurt," he said. "I'm afraid it doesn't work like that."

Yuri glared petulantly at his kickable legs. What did he know? It wasn't like he and Kurimu had ever had a fight in their looong days together. Naoi would've had a field day if they—

Stupid. It was his fault! She was only thinking about certain irritants right now because he brought it up!

"Listen, I don't know the whole story," Hejjiguchi amended, adjusting to stretch his arm deeper in. "You said – something about him not respecting your privacy? So I don't know if it's a space thing, or – Ami said – you didn't like him talking to Hisakawa." He frowned thoughtfully. "I don't think they were flirting or anything—"

She almost choked in indignation. "I'm not jealous!"

"Okay," he said nicely, like he didn't believe her. Yuri snarled quietly. "My point is, hey, I'm sure Naoi said some hurtful things. He's… Naoi." He dug his arm in all the way up to his shoulder. "But you said once I didn't know him like you do. You may not want help in the love department—" Yuri dug her fingernails into her can—"but since you obviously still have feelings for him, you should—"

"I don't," Yuri said.

He continued wrestling with in the vending machine, but side-eyed her skeptically as he did so. "Oh, come on."

"I don't," she told him firmly, unwavering. "I never did. That confession… it was a big fat lie."

He crinkled his brow, then looked at her funny. His movements slowed like he was deep in thought.

"Why would you lie about something like that?" he asked. "Sounds like a cop-out. I mean, you asked me to the bridge—"

"And I didn't show up." She examined her nails, which just seemed like the right sassy thing to do when you were looking down on someone. "Neither did Naoi. It was just yoooou and Kurimu."

Disbelief tightened Hejjiguchi's features, then a wave of realization set them loose.

"You planned it, didn't you?" he said.

"It sure got you guys off his back." Yuri downed the rest of her coffee in a fast, angry gulp, then glowered at it for being empty. "That ungrateful ass. It was one of the best ideas I ever had!"

"Your idea?!" Hejjiguchi yelped. His voice was kind of high, so she looked back at him in interest. "You played us!"

"Yep. Like a fiddle," Yuri agreed, unaffected. She threw the empty can over her shoulder and heard it topple into the bin, which was pretty cool.

"You—I—" He started to get up, but found to his chagrin that his arm wouldn't come with him. Then a warning bell chimed—class would be resuming very soon.

For the first time that day, Yuri smiled.

"But happy early anniversary to the two of you," she said sweetly. "See you at lunch!"

The snack machine rustled and thumped frantically behind her. That should shut Mr. Love Doctor up for a while.

Hejjiguchi arrived six whole minutes late to third period, which was in and of itself a pleasantness to Ayato's day. But here was the kicker. The reason? He'd gotten his arm stuck in a vending machine. Hejjiguchi didn't look at him, or anyone, while he sat in the back and nursed his pride. And Ami didn't even get to eat her coveted strawberry pocky until next class break.

Ayato smiled for a good fifteen minutes and enjoyed the silence.

The one downside to spending the entire class break drinking two cans of coffee and watching Hejjiguchi squirm?

She really had to pee.

Hejjiguchi didn't say much for the rest of the day, which was nice.

Ayato hadn't realized until now that the buffoon was the voice of the troublesome trio – he would have guessed Ami – but when she had little luck badgering some responses out of him, she got kind of miffed and passed notes with Kurimu. But Kurimu never liked going over a note-passing quota ("it's the same as texting!" she'd shrilled nervously at Ami after fourth period. "Didn't you learn your lesson?!" To which Ami replied just as shrilly, "Notes don't chirp!") so that slowed down half an hour before lunch.

Lunch, though – they were noisy around lunch. Mostly because Hejjiguchi didn't want to eat with them. What a bellyacher! Ayato leaned outside the door and listened to his whiny protests.

"I'm not hungry," he was saying. "I just… I gotta go, um, do something? It's nice out, I have to go for a run."

Kurimu had hummed sadly in understanding, but Ami bristled at this.

"Run?" she squawked. "You're going to skip lunch with us to burn more calories? You need your nutrients, Souma Hejjiguchi! You're skin and bones!"

What was she talking about? Hejjiguchi had been regularly sating his sweet tooth ever since he started dating a girl whose mother ran a bakery. And even before that, Yuri had assured him, he didn't exactly eat like a bird.

"What? I'm fine," Hejjiguchi scoffed. "The vending machine sure thought my arm was fat enough. Listen, I'll see you later."

Ami growled a bit.

"Fine," she said doubtfully. "But what, are you going to run for a full 45 minutes? Come by the cafeteria when you get hungry." There was a pause, and then she added as an afterthought, "And bring my strawberry pocky!"

"Sure," he said distractedly.

Ayato heard footsteps, and frowned to himself when he noticed he'd been out here for a good two minutes. God! What was happening to him? Had his life become so pathetic that he was reduced to eavesdropping on these imbeciles?

Hejjiguchi walked out of the classroom, and stopped when he noticed him standing there. "What are you looking at?"

Ayato gave him a bored look. "Will you get me some pocky too? The almond crush, on the top shelf."

His classmate made a dismissive but exasperated noise and threw his hands in the air as he stalked off. With a snort, Ayato pushed himself off the wall and left in the other direction.

He did have better things to do, anyway. Like sulk in the club room.

Hejjiguchi wasn't at lunch, and by the end of the day, Yuri wasn't sure whether or not she was guilty about it.

Maybe a little, because Kurimu had fretted, and doodled a bunch of little cat faces with wiry lightning bolt-shaped whiskers in a notebook she brought to lunch. She was a nervous doodler, apparently. She'd drawn Yuri a butterfly this morning, which was sweet, so maybe Yuri felt the slightest brush of conscience for putting her boyfriend on edge.

But Hejjiguchi was dumb and insufferable with his upbeat, misplaced romance advice, so he deserved it. And Kurimu needed to just not worry herself sick so much. It would drain years off her life.

Ami, sensing Yuri didn't want to talk about dumb boys, nicely asked her how the recruiting mission was going. Which reminded Yuri that she hadn't done much of anything since Wednesday. Because she kept eating lunch with Ami and thinking about dumb boys!

God! What kind of girl was she turning into?

This was all Naoi's fault, throwing her off her game. Ruining everything because he had to be a big jerk about things that shouldn't matter to him. Things that shouldn't matter at all anymore. Did she demand the excruciating details of people in his past? No! Because she wasn't a pushy brat! Because she respected privacy and comfort over an undying curiosity.

And if that made her a "dodgy bitch" then so be it.

What else had he called her? she wondered as she finished cleaning the classroom after school. Bored little rich girl? It was nice of him to finally show his true colors. Maybe she should forget about recruitment until Monday, go on home to her mansion of a house and do what bored little rich girls do to entertain themselves. Watch television, while he did…

Hang on, what was he up to these days? She couldn't remember him mentioning anything. Well – her parents were going to be home more often at the end of this month since they were on the cusp of festivals season. That was usually the time his dad brought out his best work, so he was probably—

Wait, what did she care?! He didn't care about the stuff she was doing! Not if it didn't benefit him.

Yuri scrubbed hard with a washrag, putting all her weight into her palm. Stupid, entitled, nosy, big whiny baby—

"Um, Yuri? I think the counter is clean now," Hirohashi said warily, peeking into the classroom from around the corner. "And… why are you calling it a big whiny baby?"

Yuri muttered some more and tossed the rag over her shoulder. It missed whatever her target was and hit the floor. She walked out the classroom door, still grumbling under her breath.

Hirohashi sweated nervously and edged past her to pick it up. "Okay, see you on Monday."

Outside the building, the school's athletic field was already pretty packed. It looked like the track and field team had merged with another group and they were doing exercises together. Taking turns or doing relay races, Yuri couldn't tell. It was a blur of whistles and yelling and cheers beyond a chain link fence. She scoped the area out for a second, watching some of the baton race as it played out. Then she shifted the strap of her backpack and started down the school steps.

Whoops and screams carried from the field, which would make for good background noise on her walk across campus. It was just loud enough that she couldn't hear herself think. That, she didn't mind so much.

"Go! Go! Go!"

"You can do it, Nezumi!"

"What are you doing, Hejjiguchi?! Run for it!"

Yuri looked up in time to see Hejjiguchi shake his head hard and break into a sprint across the track. Goodness, did she do that? It was a rare day at Akuma High that the track star needed to be told to run anywhere. Didn't he have his one-person cheer team with him today? She did a quick scan of the fence and surrounding area, but Kurimu was nowhere in sight.

Hm, she must have gone home. Guess Yuri didn't even have to stay behind and play interceptor anyway.

"Hejjiguchi, your game's off today!" a girl screamed from the field. "Do your best!"

Yuri froze in her tracks. That voice…!

She eyed the field warily. Noted the folded hurdles leaning against fences and benches, waiting to be set up. Spotted the long, thick navy mats where boys and girls alike were chatting and stretching out.

Standing between the fence and the track, one girl (whose features she couldn't decipher) caught her watching and let her sideline cheering die down. She hesitated at first, then gave a little half-wave.

Yuri stared blankly for a second. Then she shook her head, turned on her heel, and walked back into the building.

A/N: R&R! Let me know if you spot any inconsistencies or errors, I've looked the chapter over but not with a fine-toothed comb.

Preview:

"—played us like a fiddle!"

"Trouble with the missus?"

"They're driving me crazy."

"Spoken like a true detective."

"It makes me sound narcissistic, doesn't it?"

"Have you ever been dead?"

"Everything doesn't revolve around him!"

"Alright, I'll do it."

"Welcome aboard!"

[Chapter 26]: Solus.