A/N: Not mine.
"They won't do it," Kotoko informed Naoki in frustration at the end of next day's classes. "Any application for change of class has to be approved by the current instructor, and he has refused."
He shook his head. "Let me guess; he's going to use you to raise the overall class grade point average?"
"Possibly," she growled, "not that it's going to work that well for him. I learn best with skillful instructors, not one who is barely above adequate. And I was hoping to do well on the college entrance tests."
Naoki pondered the situation for a moment. "How about if I include you in the Class A study group? We could help you understand whatever he can't or won't explain, as all class levels are responsible for the same material. It's not the way it should be," he shrugged, "but it will prepare you for university."
"Do you think they will accept me?" she asked, hope in her eyes.
"I'm sure they will," he assured her.
"Why did only boys agree to show up?" Naoki inquired of his best friend Watanabe after Kotoko excused herself to the restroom.
"I suspect they sussed out why you organized this little gathering," was his reply. "You have never wanted to join a study group until now." He smirked. "It seems they got their noses out of joint because you're helping a cute girl, and especially because she is in Class F."
"Come on," he looked at the others, "in just this short time you can see that she is misassigned, right?"
"Absolutely," one leaned back in his chair, "but our girls have been under the impression that you, Mr. Perfect Irie, are the possession of Class A and should shun any other female."
Naoki thought then asked, "Tell me this, have you noticed them flipping their skirts up in your direction?"
"Huh?"
"Never mind. Just something Kotoko mentioned earlier."
"Oi, Kotoko!" Her pen was ripped from her hand. "What're ya doin', suckin' up to the teacher like that?" Ikezawa Kinnosuke gave her what he believed to be an irresistibly sexy grin. "Ya know, there's more to life than books and learnin'. Besides, what're ya gonna need this for after we graduate?"
She clenched her teeth and snatched back her pen. "For college, you clueless idiot. Now stop talking and listen to Sensei." She added silently, For all the good that will do.
"College?" He hooted so loudly that even the teacher sent a disapproving glare his way. "Doncha know that Class F don't have nothin' to do with college? Once we get our diploma, we're out in the world of work."
"And that is fine for you, but I am different."
"No, you're not," he leaned closer. "You're in Class F just like the rest of us. You'll end up workin' in an office or shop, or maybe," his mouth was so close that her hair fluttered, "you'd be more interested in being a girlfriend or wife."
Her palm shoved his face away, and she stood up. "Sensei, permission to leave the classroom for a few minutes."
"Oh, ah, of course, Aihara," he stammered, glad that she had not alluded to 'feminine issues'.
If she had, it would have been a lie, for she made a beeline for the office to, once more, argue her case for reassignment. "I believe the rules are perfectly clear, Miss Aihara," the counselor sniffed, "as I told you earlier. If you can convince Hakamada-sensei to allow you a retest, we will be happy to revisit this matter."
"I thought it was supposed to be an institution of learning. How am I supposed to do this with lackluster teaching and the students drowning out the professor with inane talk?" she raged to Naoki that afternoon. She was quick to add, "The study sessions are great, but if I consistently get the highest score in my class, how am I to know how I stack up against others?"
"Well, since the administration has dug in their heels by slavishly following the rule book, will it offend your private school morality to see about bending the rules?"
Her eyes lit up. "What do you have in mind?"
"With all modesty, I am the top student in the school and, according to standardized tests, the prefecture. This gives my professor a lot of bragging rights. Why don't we see if he will grade a copy of your worksheets? I don't want to make you retake exams, but once he is assured of your devotion to scholarship, he might be willing to put pressure on Hakamada-sensei and be allowed to look them over a second time to compare against Class A's."
And so it was done. Tsushima was so incensed on Kotoko's behalf, once he had evaluated her, that Hakamada even allowed him to score all of her work. "The small increase in my tasks," he admitted to Naoki, "is worth it for the ability to taunt him for immorally holding back a student. He will be the laughing stock of all the professors come graduation."
Kotoko was pleased with her progress at the end of the spring term and was eager for the extra hours for relaxation and analysis of her accounts. She was, therefore, not prepared for the assault of Mrs. Irie.
That woman had bided her time, as instructed by her husband, while Kotoko became accustomed to the new school. She exulted in the girl's closeness with her elder son, for she had long lamented the fact that he was not searching for a worthy girl with whom to share his life. As Naoki and his father had both told her that he was too young for any of that, she felt vindicated and could hardly wait to get her claws into this adorable child who was handily ensconced in her home.
"Cooking, Irie-sama, excuse me, Obasama?" Kotoko replied. "No, thank you. Otosan stopped trying several years ago. It seems that the culinary gene bypassed my generation."
"Nonsense!" she rebutted. "It is likely that it just needs a woman's touch. And here I am willing and able to be that woman."
"But my homeworkâmy review?"
"Bah! You can do that in the mornings. The afternoons will be all mine! Besides, don't you want Onii-chan to look forward to a hot meal after a long day of work?"
"Why would I be cooking for Naoki-kun?" she asked.
"I mean, when you're married."
"Married?!" The word was cried in triple stereo, for Naoki and Yuuki had just come in from the hall.
As the two teens stared at each other in disbelief, Yuuki spoke up. "If Kotoko-chan becomes Onii-chan's wife, does that mean I get my room back?"
Alas, Mrs. Irie could not even keep to her self-set boundaries, and soon Kotoko was leaving the house when Naoki left for tennis practice. "Didn't I hear that your parents met while in college? Why, then, is she so eager for me to conform to traditional gender roles?"
"Beats me," he shrugged. "I know that she always wanted a daughter," he grimaced, "so she must have been stifling her feelings and urges for years. I'm sorry that you got caught in the crossfire."
"And I am sorry that she expects the family to eat anything that I have a hand in preparing. The Lord made restaurants for a very good reason."
Once they arrived on school grounds, the team set up one of their event umbrellas for her and even managed to find a small folding table. She spent her time completing the summer homework and reading ahead in the textbooks. Perhaps she sent a few glances onto the court whenever Naoki's name was heard, but she was not telling.
Her presence was noted by more than the practicing teams. The classroom used for summer school overlooked the courts, and it took few days for the one she had dubbed 'Stalker' to espy her.
"Hey, Babe!" Kinnosuke leaned out of the window, almost to the point of overbalance.
His voice pleasing her as well as nails raking a chalkboard, she shifted her position and did her best to ignore his ever-increasing shouts. Finally he was hauled inside and the windows latched, and she counted it her good fortune that the tennis practice ended before the classes in the building.
The next day her wanna-be swain was waiting at the court gates. "Kotoko, sweetheart, what're ya doin' down here with all the snooty jocks? C'mon inside," he tried to relieve her of her book bag, "you can read and whatever else you're doin' with the rest of us."
"No, thank you," she responded curtly, "I prefer to remain here."
"Aw, why?" he whined.
"It is less distracting," she bluntly informed him. "Now, go; you don't want to be late."
When he showed no indication of movement, Naoki tapped him on the upper arm. "Come on, man, she gave you your marching orders."
"Oi," he brushed off the hand, "keep to yourself. Why're you interferin'?"
"Because," the coach approached the trio, "you are trespassing. Now, the lady said to leave her alone, so do so before I report you for harassment."
"Hmph!" he sniffed. "No need to be nasty about it. Ya don't haveta tell me twice."
Naoki could not resist. "Apparently we do."
"I heard that, Irie!" was called over his departing shoulder.
It took several days and the eventual (warned) reporting of his behavior before Kinnosuke made himself least in sight. That did not mean he stayed away; oh, no, not at all.
Two of his fellow remedial students felt uncomfortable with certain conversations they overheard between the boy and his pals. "Look, I know that Aihara isn't our friend or anything, but that bozo is stepping way over the line."
"Yeah, it makes me a little sick to my stomach too."
"Maybe we should warn her?"
The next morning an envelope addressed to Kotoko was taped to the tennis club room door. After Kotoko read it twice, she handed it to a concerned Naoki who scanned it rapidly.
"Do you know this Komori and Ishikawa?"
"Yes, they are two girls in my class. Some of those who I said were just interested in make-up, music, and men."
"I recall that, but this note indicates a little more substance to them."
She sighed, "I suppose I should thank them. I'd hate to be caught alone by Kinnosuke in a subway station."
"Don't worry; I'll stick close until this is resolved."