(Sorry if there's been any confusion with this upload. FanFiction dragged its heels in actually replacing the AN from before with the actual chapter 4)

Sorry for the slight delay. It has been decided that I will indeed be giving Yoko the Boosted Gear. A large majority wanted it, and I pretty much wanted it as well.

Sorry if that disappoints any of you, but this story is more about Yoko than it is her powers. In fact, Yoko being the Sekiryuutei opens up a lot of opportunities for me in writing her character.

I hope this chapter in enjoyable. A bit uncertain about this one, but I like it for the most part.


Yoko woke with a gasp. Wide eyed, she took in her surroundings: a rather plain room, with a bed, a desk near the bed, a desk chair, and a wall that doubled as a wardrobe. Panting heavily, Yoko grabbed the area over her heart. Looking down at her chest, she saw that she was wearing the same nightshirt she wore on Saturday night.

"Was…was that all a dream? No, more like a nightmare." Yoko sighed, relieved. It had been a while since she last had a nightmare, but that one took the cake. "So vivid, but obviously a dream. No way I'd act so pathetic on a date." Wiping her brow, she looked at the sweat transferred to the back of her hand. "Better get a shower. Don't want to be all sweaty for my date with Yuma." Saying the name out loud caused a pang where she had been stabbed in her dream. Yoko shuddered.

Shaking off the sudden chill, Yoko scratched her side as she reached for her alarm clock. Yawning, she brought it to her face to read the time. She gasped in the middle of her yawn, making her choke. After clearing her throat, she gripped the clock with two hands, staring directly into the LED screen until the lights started hurting her eyes.

8:00—Monday

"…Wha…" Yoko gaped, staring at the date without really comprehending it. Dropping the clock onto her bed, she took another look at her shirt. Normally, Yoko would wear a different shirt to bed each night; each nightshirt had a specific night of the week which it was worn. Yoko never forgot to change her nightshirts—she would leave them on her bed once she got dressed, ready to be put in the washing basket when she got home. Then, before going to bed, she would take the next shirt from her wardrobe. She had been following that pattern for years, and not once had she broken it.

Jumping out of bed, Yoko went to her wardrobe, wrenching the door open. Hanging in its designated spot was the nightshirt she was meant to be wearing right then. Additionally, the clothes that Yoko had been wearing in her 'dream' were missing, despite her clearly remembering seeing them in there on Saturday. Closing the door, Yoko turned around, staring into space.

"What…what the hell is going on?" Thinking about it, she didn't remember getting ready for bed. In fact, she didn't even remember getting home. The last thing she remembered was

Worthless

Waste of space

Pathetic

PAIN

Yoko gasped, grabbing her chest again. Grabbing the hem, she yanked the shirt off and looked down at her torso. No gaping hole, not even a scratch. Yoko's heavy breathing filled the room.

'Did…did all that actually happen? There's no way. I'm alive, not a scratch on me. But it is Monday, so Sunday really did happen. It couldn't have been a dream. There's no way I dreamt waking up, eating breakfast, brushing my teeth, and picking out my clothes, all in a smooth sequence of events. Dreams are usually disjointed, moving from one thing to the next with no logical progression. Who the hell dreams about waiting for eggs to cook to make an omelette? But how could it be real? The wings, the spear of light. Being stabbed. That kind of stuff only happen in stories. I mean, being stabbed happens all the time, but by black-winged killer women, wielding glowing magic spears of light?'

Thinking about that made Yoko remember the words Yuma said. Made her remember the pain she felt in that moment. Yoko collapsed to her knees, tears welling in her eyes.

She remembered Yuma saying all those awful things.

"Hmm, what does it sound like? I'm letting you know what a worthless waste of space you are before I kill you. Honestly, I'll be doing the world a favour by removing such a blight from it."

She remembered the pain of being stabbed, too real and vivid to be a dream.

Collapsing to the ground made the pain even greater. Her whole body rattled, her vision flashing white for a moment.

She remembered her final thoughts. How she welcomed death.

Her vision began to fade, the encroaching blackness covering her view of the sunset. '…whatever…I guess…it isn't all bad…at least…I don't…have…to…try…any…more…it's…kind…of…a…relief…actu

Yoko took a heaving gasp, tears rolling down her face. She brought one hand to her chest, the other to her mouth, and keened. She muffled her sobs into her palm, each breath causing her entire body to shudder. Her head began to feel stuffy, her eyes becoming sore and puffy. She screwed them closed, trying to stop the tears. She rocked in place, feeling like a little girl again, the old sting of utter rejection flaring once more.

Ten minutes later, and Yoko found herself breathing through a panic attack. She took deep breathes, just trying to ride it out. Ten more minutes passed, and Yoko's breathing returned to normal. She gasped, blinking back the tears that threatened to return. After panting for a good while, Yoko grabbed the side of her bed and pulled herself to her feet.

She stumbled as she got up, putting a hand on her temple. Her head was pounding, her eyes feeling like they were being pushed from behind. She swallowed, hard, trying to relieve the pressure. Grabbing the shirt from her bed she used it to wipe her eyes and face. She sniffled and fell backwards onto her bed, staring at the ceiling.

She closed her eyes, and used every ounce of her remaining mental stamina to take the emotions and the memories and push them all to the back of her mind. After several deep breathes she opened her eyes, tears nowhere in sight. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up again, and started rubbing the rest of her face with both hands. She stopped and looked through the gaps in her fingers.

'Right…if I accept that all of that happened,' the thought threatened to overwhelm her again, but she brutally shut the emotions down, 'then that leaves one question. How the hell am I still alive? Actually, no, there's like, a zillion other questions.'

She pulled her hands away from her face, a thought striking her. One last thing niggling in her mind. Rushing out of her room, she went to the bathroom and opened the door. Grabbing the washing basket, she began looking at its contents. 'Where are they? The clothes I wore; if I went on a date yesterday, they should be in here.' Grabbing the basket, she tipped it upside down. Dirty clothes fell to the floor, and she began sifting through them. 'Please be here. They have to be here. If they're not, then…' After a few minutes, she stopped. 'They're…not here.' She sat back, glaring at the mess on the floor.

Much like her nightshirts, when Yoko was through with her date clothes, she would take them off and put them in the washing basket. No matter how tired Yoko might have been, she always put her clothes in the washing basket when she was done for the day. The fact that there were even clothes in the washing basket at all were another red flag- one she hadn't even registered in her panic. Yoko always did the washing on Sunday evening. After the clothes were washed, she would put them in the tumble dryer then iron them to be put away.

Yoko learned early on that to be as successful as she was, strict scheduling was vital. She had gotten time management down to an art form, and the benefits were far too many to even consider deviating from her schedule. It was something she had built on for years; she didn't even have to look at her schedule anymore, having memorised it perfectly. Chores such as cooking and cleaning she did on auto-pilot, no conscious thought required.

The grand point of all this: the blatant deviations from the way Yoko carried out her daily grind were enough for her to be certain something strange was going on.

'The date on the clock…the lack of an alarm…not remembering getting home…wearing the nightshirt that was left on my bed…my clothes not being in the washing basket…the washing not getting done…I can only think of one conclusion.'

"That dream wasn't a dream. I really did get stabbed. Yuma…Yuma really did say all those…those things. And somebody found me, healed me—somehow—and took me home, redressed me, disposed of my clothes, and put me to bed."

It sounded crazy, saying it all out loud, but it was the only conclusion that made sense. What was that famous quote? Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. That, or after going out with Yuma, Yoko blacked out and went through the rest of the night without any cognizance, then had a strange dream where the date ended up with her being killed instead.

Still didn't explain her missing clothes. Hence, she had no choice but to believe that her date had grown wings and shanked her.

"Yuma…what the hell is she? Some kind of demon or…some…thing…" Yoko's eyes widened, a memory striking like a bolt from the blue.

"Urk…" Kimura groaned, trying to push himself up. His nose was clearly broken, and the fact he was trying to push himself up with one arm didn't bode well for the other's condition. "D…Demon…"

Yuma's eyes flashed, and she stamped on the back of his hand, heel first. Kimura screeched as her high-heel dug into the back of his hand, ominous crunching loud and clear even over his cries.

"Kimura…the others…she thrashed them. Was he right, then?"

"How rude. First you assault me, then you insult me," she sneered, digging the heel further in, ignoring his whimpers and moans.

"No…she reacted out of anger…she considered it an insult." She swallowed, taking another few moments to supress the ache in her chest.

She quickly returned the clothes to the washing basket and ran back to her room. Approaching her desk, she was relieved to find her phone on it. 'I need to get their side of what happened. Maybe it'll help me figure out what the hell is going on.' Opening her contacts list, Yoko paused, blinking hard.

Yuma's phone number was missing.

She stared at her phone for a moment. "How…" She opened her texts, looking at the history. Her text to Katase from Saturday was there, when she confirmed that they were still on for their date. But instead of the next one in line being her text to Yuma on Friday, instead it was a text to the girl she went out with the week before.

Yoko didn't have many friends. In fact, the number of friends she had could be totalled at a whopping zero. This being the case, she had very little need to text at all. The only times she texted was to confirm things with her dates. Both Yuma's phone number and their text history being missing wasn't too unusual. Usually after dating a girl once, Yoko would delete the number from her phone as it no longer had any use to her. The history disappearing with the number was a feature of her phone.

However, just in case, Yoko always waited two weeks before deleting any numbers. In some cases, the girls kept trying to contact her despite being let down gently. They would try and break through to her, to be the one to heal all her pain and go steady with her. Yoko sneered at the idea of it all, but she wanted to know who was calling on the occasions it happened. Those kinds of girls tended to introduce you to their friend Mr Kitchen Knife if you forget their name when they call. Most would give up in a week, and she would work her charm on the stubborn ones, convincing them to move on by the end of the second.

Having been less than 24 hours since the date, there was no chance that Yoko had deleted it. Unless, of course, she did it in the hypothetical black-out, but if Yoko had to pick between that possibility and her own memories, she's trust the latter any day.

Pushing back the creeping unease, she went back and rang Kimura's phone. After several seconds of tense waiting, he finally picked up. "Kimura, listen, about yester—"

"Why'd you do it, Banchou?" A defeated tone of voice came through the phone.

"—day, what?" Yoko paused, frowning into space. "What are you talking about?"

"Why'd you do that to us? We've been nothing but loyal to you, Banchou."

"Kimura, what are you talking about?"

"You're going to pretend nothing happened?" Defeat was being replaced by anger. "You're going to act like you didn't beat the shit out of us for no reason?"

"…What?" For the nth time that morning, Yoko faltered. "Look, we've already been over what happened on Saturday—"

"This isn't about that! I'm talking about yesterday!" Kimura yelled. Yoko pulled the phone away from her ear, but could still hear him say, "After we stuck by you when Yamada wanted us to leave, after we said we'd stay loyal to you, why'd you beat us up!?"

"How hard did she hit you? That wasn't me that was—"

"Unless you've got an identical twin that you ain't mentioned, then that's a load of shit! When we got to the fountain, you arrived after us and just started attacking us for no reason! You nearly broke my hand!"

"…" Yoko was lost for words. "I…but that was…"

"Yamada was right about you, Banchou. You don't give a shit about us, we're just your lapdogs." The anger was gone, and the defeat returned, joined with disappointment. "Me and the boys…we've decided that we're done helping you, like Yamada did. We won't tell the police or nothing about yesterday, but don't bother calling us anymore."

Yoko said nothing; couldn't say anything at all.

"Some of the best times of my life, running with you Banchou. But Yamada's right, we can't spend the rest of our lives making you look good anymore. Goodbye Yoko-Ban—no, goodbye, Yoko-san."

Kimura hung up.

Yoko dropped her phone back on the desk. Her wide eyes stared ahead, unseeing. She stood like that for a few minutes, before putting a hand on her head. "What the fuck is going on? How did they mix up Yuma and me? Did…Was it me, who beat them up? Was there ever even a Yuma?" Yoko collapsed into her chair, head in her hands. "I…Am I losing it?"

"Yoko?" Her bedroom door opened, and Yoko shot upright, staring as her father poked his head in. "Wh-Why are you sitting at your desk topless!?" Yoko flinched, and grabbed the shirt from the bed, putting it on as Tamaki looked away awkwardly. "Why aren't you ready for school?" Her looked back at her face and frowned. "Are you alright? You look exhausted."

"…Otou-san, what are you doing here?"

"I got a day off today." He said, still frowning. "Are you sick? Your eyes and face are all red."

Yoko stared at him, and realised how pitiful she must look. She looked away, muttering, "When did you get so good at noticing stuff?" She hugged her torso, staring at the floor.

Tamaki sighed and walked over to her. Putting his hand on her forehead he hummed. "Well, you don't seem to have a fever."

She smacked his hand away, glaring at him. "Since when did you give a shit, anyway?"

Tamaki winced, but frowned straight after. "I've always cared about you, Yoko, even if you don't always return the favour."

"Whatever." She looked away again, turning her chair away from him slightly.

Her father sighed and walked to the door. "I'll call the academy and tell them you won't be going in today."

"What, why?"

"Because even if you're not sick, you clearly haven't slept well at all. If you had, you wouldn't be so expressive." With a sardonic smile he left the room. "I'm sure you don't want to go to school in such a state." He closed the door behind him, and Yoko listened as he walked down the stairs.

Yoko scowled and stood up. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. All the time she spent crafting her image would be wasted if she snapped at someone as easily as just then. She looked at her phone laying on the desk, narrowing her eyes. Picking it up, she watched as it ran out of power and shut off. She let out an aggravated sigh and went to put it on charge.

'More evidence—I charge it every night.'

That done, Yoko looked up, and paused. She hadn't realised it until just then, but her curtains were closed yet she could see just fine. Which was odd, considering she had black-out curtains. Eyes could adjust to darkness, sure, but this was ridiculous. She could see as well as if she had the curtains open.

Moving to the curtains, she opened them.

"GAH! Instant regret!"

It was as if Amaterasu herself had reached down and poked her in the eyes. Yoko rolled away from the window, covering her eyes and trying to rub the spots out of her vision. After about a minute she succeeded in blinking away the smudges.

"Probably not your best idea, Ikawazu." Yoko said, squinting at the floor. After stepping back in front of the window, a weight settled itself on Yoko's shoulders, and she felt like she had swum three laps in a second. The warm embrace of the sun had turned into an overwhelming grasp, and she didn't hesitate in shutting the curtains. With the darkness restored the weakness left her body.

"Seriously, what the fuck is going on?" She stood there, still gripping the curtains, trying to keep her breathing steady. "I…I must be ill or something. Bad night sleep…as if! I'd bet my left tit that this is connected to why I'm not dead. Don't know how, but it wouldn't shock me at this point."

She fell back on her bed, head hitting the pillow. If she was going to be off "sick" then she might as well play the part. If anything, she'd get enough rest to keep her emotions under control tomorrow. And if part of her just wanted to stay in bed all day mopi—thinking—about her situation, then damn their eyes if anyone had anything to say about it.


Yoko was in a café, having a cup of tea with a girl. Katase took a sip, and morphed into Murayama who then threw her cup at Yoko. The scalding hot tea was cold, and it clung to Yoko's top. The sound of rushing water made her realise that she was standing next to a fountain. The steaming tea on her shirt felt sticky and gave off a coppery smell. Putting a hand to her top, it came away sticky and red. Long, red strands connected her hand to the fountain, and she followed them to the source. A voluptuous figure was already in the process of morphing, the hair connecting it to Yoko's hand turning black.

Yuma sneered and held aloft a spear of light. The strands on Yoko's hand wrapped around her entire body, holding her in place. Yuma threw the spear and it pierced Yoko's chest. A flash, and Matsuda's camera printed out a picture of the scene, while a pair of floating glasses nodded as it looked it over. Yoko fell back into the fountain, going deeper and deeper until the setting sun was but a distant blur. The strands washed away, and the hole in Yoko's chest closed.

For a while, Yoko just floated in darkness. Before long, however, two green eyes opened, piercing into Yoko's own.

[Not long now, partner]


For the second time that day, Yoko woke with a gasp.

"That…that was definitely a dream." Yoko said, rubbing the sand from her eyes. Feeling refreshed, she pulled herself out of bed to look at her clock. Her eyes widened when she saw the time. "…No wonder I feel so good. I've slept all day!" Going over to her curtains, she opened them up. Sure enough, the sun had set and the moon had taken its place.

Yoko always liked the moon, having always felt a sense of comfort looking up at it. Even if its appearance changed every night, its presence was a constant in life. But the feeling coursing through her was more than she'd ever felt before. Unlike that morning, Yoko felt like she could run a triathlon and not break a sweat. She opened the window, letting the cool air wash over her face. She stood there, basking in the night, staring at the moon.

"—n't know why I even bother!"

'Huh?' Yoko blinked. She could have sworn that she'd just heard her neighbour, Mr Kondo. Which was impossible, considering he lived three houses down, and there wasn't a person in sight on the street.

"Neither do I, you bastard!"

Yoko poked her head out the window, trying to get a look at the Kondo household. "That's was definitely Mrs Kondo." She muttered. Despite it being pitch black, she could easily see the shadows of figures moving behind a curtain. Three houses away.

"I work all day and what do I find when I get home? You, sitting on your ass instead of having my dinner ready.!"

"Excuse me if I have better things to do than stand around barefoot in the kitchen!"

"What, like talking to your mother on the phone all day?"

"Don't bring my mother into this!"

"…What the hell?" Yoko pulled her head back in and shut her window. The voices became muffled, but she could still hear the noise they were making. "This just keeps getting weirder." Yoko's heart raced, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. "What's happening to my body?" Her foot started tapping, a rising feeling in her gut forming. "Tch, all this excess energy is starting to piss me off, too."

She heard feet hitting the steps in the house, and she waited in place until they reached her door. Her father poked his head in, and gave her a once over. "You look better." He said.

"…I suppose."

"You must be starving."

"I guess."

"Well, erm." He looked to the side, scratching the back of his head. "I'm going to order some food in. Do you want anything?"

Yoko opened her mouth to decline, but the growling of her stomach cut her off. Brow twitching, she nodded. "Ramen."

"Right, I'll just…" He mimed a phone with his hand and left. Yoko listened as he walked down stairs, and even heard him talk to the delivery place on the phone.

Yoko huffed. "I hope this hearing thing isn't permanent."

"Ahh~!" As if to spite her, a moan came through the wall.

"Yeah, you like that?"

"Mmm, fuck me!"

"Take it, you dirty bitch!"

"Ahhhh~!"

Yoko went green. Apparently, despite being in their late 60s, the Satonakas next door still had an active sex life. "…Might want to invest in some headphones…and some mind bleach."

"Ahh, fuck me! Harder!"

"...At least it should be over soon. How long can a couple of old farts go on for, anyway?"


Yoko trudged through the school gate while yawning into her hand, dark bags under her eyes. "Who'd have thought old man Satonaka could keep it up for five hours straight? I'm simultaneously disgusted and impressed." Yoko had spent until the early hours of the morning pressing her pillow into her ears, learning entirely too much about her elderly neighbour's sex life in the process. "So much for the rest I got yesterday."

"Yoko-san!"

"Yoko-san's back!"

"I heard she got a cold!"

"I heard she got cancer and lost all her hair!"

"Gasp! So, is that a wig?"

'Don't believe that shit so easily!' Yoko barely managed to keep the shout mental, her brow twitching heavily. 'Who comes up with this garbage? And what's up with that sudden escalation!? Don't be so eager to kill me off, you bitch!'

"Yoko-saaaaaaan! Are you dying!?" One of the girls cried as she walked past. Yoko recognised her as one of the girls she dated last year.

"N-No, really, it was just a small cold." Yoko managed to hide her exasperation behind a twitching smile. "I'm feeling much better today."

"Are you sure? You look tired." The girl's friend said, looking concerned.

"I assure you, I'm fine." Yoko said, her voice strained. "Well, have a good day." She hurried on forward, ignoring their goodbyes. 'This is not the kind of attention I enjoy! Seriously, I miss one day of school and people are already writing my eulogy!'

She made it to her homeroom with little trouble after that. Several students along the way inquired about her health, but she brushed them off with a quick explanation and kept on walking. Upon reaching the room, she noticed Katase and Murayama talking at their seats. Katase was blushing and looking off to the side, while Murayama just looked confused and concerned. Katase, noticing Yoko, perked up. Murayama had the opposite reaction, and gave Yoko a sour look.

Yoko nodded at the pair and took her seat. Katase made to stand up, but the rest of their class came in, their homeroom teacher right behind them. Katase sat back down, looking sullen, again causing Murayama some concern.

'Urgh, got to deal with that later. Oh, yeah, that's right, glare over here, Murayama. Totally my fault that you didn't have the ovaries to ask Katase out before I did. Mm-hm. Yeah, that's right, you stop before Katase notices you. Don't want her to know what a possessive harpy you really are.'

Yoko yawned, rubbing an eye with her fist. 'Need to keep a lid on the bitchiness. Get bitchy when I'm tired. I SHOULD have gotten enough rest to keep it under control, but apparently Mr Satonaka was a rabbit in a previous life.'

"Ah, Ikawazu-kun, I see that you're feeling better today." Their homeroom teacher said. He was an older man, with hair thinning in its age. "I'm glad that it wasn't anything serious."

The students muttered among themselves, but Yoko ignored their drivel. "No, nothing serious, just a cold."

"Good, good! Wouldn't want anything to happen to one of our top students, after all."

"Thank you for your concern." 'Heh, concern, yeah right. He acts like he's concerned about me, but having a student like me in his homeroom makes him look better by proxy. That's life for you; bunch of shitty people, pretending they're good people, to get what they want.' Yoko barely held in her sneer.

Yoko's bad mood persisted throughout the day. If anything, it got worse as time went on. Various people came up to express their concerns over lunch, digging for that next juicy piece of gossip to spread around. Yoko's persona chaffed more than it ever had before, and she got more irritated the longer she had to maintain it. Over a year of cultivating a friendly and helpful image began to backfire on her, leaving her unable to tell them all to fuck off and leave her alone.


The crowd of students around her at lunch made it impossible for Katase to speak with Yoko. Murayama watched as her friend got more and more disheartened each time she made to go over, only for someone else to start talking to Yoko.

"What happened on that date?" Murayama asked for the umpteenth time. Katase had refused to share any details about it; not that Murayama wanted to hear them, but she was concerned for her friend. Maybe a little jealous, too, but mostly concerned. Ever since that Saturday afternoon, Katase hadn't been able to look at her for more than a few seconds. It made the last couple of days rather awkward. "You've been acting weird since then. Did she do anything to you?"

"No!" Katase shouted, looking the most animated she had been for days. A few people glanced over, but were far more interested in Yoko and soon turned away. "No." She repeated, much quieter. "Yoko-san was wonderful. I just…need to talk to her about something." She blushed and looked away again.

"…" Murayama said nothing, not knowing what to say, and not really wanting to say anything either. Instead she stared over at Yoko, watching the slightly older girl talk. Yoko said something, causing the girl speaking to her to blush. Murayama felt annoyance rise in her chest. "What is it about her that no one ever wants to talk about? Every girl she's dated has said nothing about it, and now you're doing it too."

"…" Katase frowned a little, looking like she was remembering something, but she soon shook it off. "Does it matter? Yoko-san is a good person, and obviously we've all seen that. Plus, it's no one else's business what happened on our dates with Yoko-san."

"Fine." Murayama said, huffing, and this time it was her turn to look away. She glared at Yoko from the corner of her eyes. Through the rest of the day, Murayama kept shooting Yoko angry stares, unable to stop herself. She at least kept Katase from noticing them, but it was surprisingly hard at times. She didn't remember Katase ever glancing at her that often. Any other day she would welcome it, but for once she wished her friend would pay her less attention.

By the time classes ended, Katase was practically vibrating in her seat. As soon as the teacher left, she stood up to go over to talk to Yoko. However, Yoko had started to move when the teacher did, so she was already leaving from the other door. Katase wilted, falling back into her seat.

Murayama took one look at her friend before standing up and storming off after Yoko.


'Finally, this has been one of the longest days of my life.' Yoko huffed as she walked down the hallway. She intended to go straight home and get her evening routine out the way before going back to bed. And maybe pick up some ear plugs or something on the way home; she wanted to be prepared in case the old folks decided to get frisky again.

She absently realised that her enhanced hearing hadn't been bothering her at all, but the trade-off was feeling like shit under the sunlight. The piercing rays of the sun made her eager to get home and shut her curtains. It was a big part of her bad mood, next to the lack of sleep.

She reached the shoe lockers by the school's entrance, pleased to see the lack of students milling about. At this time of day, most students would be going to their club meetings, so she wouldn't be accosted by sycophants.

"Oi, Ikawazu!"

Of course, she could just be accosted by angry females instead. Now wasn't that a first? Turning around, she battled to keep her expression pleasant. Her brow rose when she saw Murayama stomp on over to her.

"Is there something I can help you with, Murayama-san?" 'Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, fuck o-'

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Murayama said, stopping in front of Yoko and placing her hands on her hips. "Katase has been waiting since yesterday to talk to you, and you can't even stick around after school to speak with her?"

Yoko blinked. She instinctively looked around, seeing if anyone could overhear them. "Katase-chan has?" 'Urgh, I forgot, I meant to talk to her at lunch, but those morons surrounded me the whole time.'

"You don't even remember?" Murayama growled. "The one thing I managed to get out of her about Saturday was that you agreed to talk to her on Monday, but you don't even remember it?"

"Yes, well, I am still quite tired from being ill, yesterday. It must have slipped my mind."

"You moved pretty fast for someone who isn't feeling very well."

"I simply wished to get home as soon as I could."

"You're not going anywhere until you talk to Katase!"

"Oh? And are you going to be the one stopping me?"

"If I have to."

'This bitch.' Yoko felt her brow twitch. 'I'd like to see he try.' Yoko turned around and moved towards the lockers.

"Stop right there!" Murayama hissed and grabbed Yoko's arm.

Yoko's eyes flashed and she whipped around to face Murayama. 'Oh no you didn't you-'

"What exactly is going on here?" A commanding voice rang out. Yoko's arm stopped before it could begin moving towards Murayama. Both girls span around to see Shitori Souna walking down the staircase opposite the entrance.

'Great, just what I needed.' Yoko thought, a sour face slipping through the cracks of her mask for an instant. 'Then again, maybe it is.' "My apologies, Kaichou, but Murayama-san was being a touch aggressive in getting my attention."

Murayama turned to her, a scandalised expression twisting her face. "What!? You—"

"I don't care who was doing what. I won't stand for any sort of violent misconduct in this school." Souna said, speaking over Murayama with ease. "I suggest the two of you shake hands and walk away, before I see a reason to punish you both." Her narrow-eyed glare told them this wasn't a suggestion nor an idle threat.

Yoko and Murayama gave each other nasty looks, before reluctantly grabbing each other's hands. Yoko took the opportunity to lean closer to Murayama, who stiffened at the action. "Just ask Katase out already, damn it." She said in a whisper, watching Murayama's eyes widen and cheeks flush. "The whole jealousy thing really isn't attractive."

"W-Wha—"

"Just do it. That way Katase stops moping, you can stop being jealous, and I can go home and sleep. Everybody wins." She let go of Murayama' hand and stepped back. "See you around, Murayama-san."

Murayama gave a mechanical nod and walked off in the direction of the kendo clubroom. Once she left, Souna turned her harsh gaze on Yoko.

"What were you thinking, going to strike Murayama-san like that? You could have done some serious damage."

Yoko barely managed to keep from rolling her eyes. "I wasn't going to hit her, Kaichou. And even if I did, it wouldn't have hurt her at all."

Souna raised a brow. "And you're already so good at controlling your newfound strength that you can judge that, are you?"

Yoko's eyes widened. "Huh? Wh…What are you talking about?"

Souna sighed, a faint look of exasperation crossing her face. "Honestly, Rias needs to be stricter with her pieces at times." She muttered, shaking her head.

Yoko's confusion only increased. "What the hell does Gremory have to do with anything? What do you mean pieces? Newfound strength?" Yoko paused, gasping a little. "Do you know why my hearing has gotten better at night, too? How could you even know about that?"

Souna's frown grew the longer Yoko spoke. She looked a little lost, but then understanding crossed her face. Followed by exasperation. Then annoyance. "Damn it, Rias." She said under her breath. Her glasses caught the light, hiding her eyes.

"Do you know what the hell has been going on with me lately, Kaichou?" Yoko said, taking a step forward. "And what does Gremory have to do with it?"

Souna sighed, and adjusted her glasses so the glare left them. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions, Ikawazu-san." She walked passed Yoko and moved towards the lockers. Waving her arm, she looked back at Yoko. "Get your shoes, and follow me. All the answers you seek will be granted."

Yoko swallowed, staring at the President with a steady gaze. She wanted to demand the answers there and then, but she refrained. "Fine." She followed Sona, staring at the slightly smaller girls back. 'As much as I hate to follow her orders, I want my answers before I go insane.'

And so, Yoko followed Souna out of the building, towards a conversation that would change her life.


Well, what do you guys think? Good chapter, bad chapter? Either way, please let me know, so I can improve in the future.

Now, to address reivews!

Raiyoukai: Thank you! I know what you mean about the first few chapters, but I felt that they were vital set up for chapter three and beyond. Glad you stuck with me long enough for chapter 3 :) Wow, thanks for the compliment, I'm glad I was able to write the date well (and that you enjoy Yoko's bitchiness XD). Yeah, I have to agree that Ishibumi didn't do a great job of making it seem like Issei was in love with "Yuma", but realistic relationships aren't Ishibumi's strong suit. I see what you mean about Yoko's bits being clunky. I like to think I've improved on that in this chapter, but if I haven't please tell me and I'll work harder on it in the future. Yeah, harem lists are lame. And oh yes, the missing memories certainly haven't done Yoko any favours lol.

DschingisKhan: Wow, you certainly picked up on that nicely huh. Either I'm getting better at portraying stuff, or my writing is too obvious lol. I'm certainly looking forward to developing Yoko's relationship with Koneko. I figured she'd be the likeliest of the group to connect to Yoko.

Blake Valentine II: Thanks! I'd love to update more frequently, but I don't want to sacrifice whatever quality I can squeeze out by rushing lol.

Belgianreader: Cheers! Glad you like Yoko. I like to think she's a complex character, but whether I can portray that well in the future is up in the air. I'll certainly do my best to write her well.

Shirou Fujimura: Once again, thanks a lot for the talks. They really helped me a lot in the future planning of this story. This story would have ended up being a lot worse without those talks, so thanks again for them. Can't express how much you've helped me out, man :)

NearbyChunk310: Thanks again for the review. I love unlikeable characters, so the chance to write one has been a whole lot of fun.

Ok, that's all for the Review Corner. Hope to hear from you guys again. Until next time!