Chapter Three - "I've had enough!"
The next day, Hizashi was forced to admit, after a long thinking session before bed, that her current brand of passive silent treatment wasn't going to help her hold out for long against Oshitari. She could loosely compare her situation to being a fortress under siege, stranded without replenished food or water. Faced with an invading army that had all its supply lines intact, it was only a matter of time before the castle walls crumbled.
As Oshitari's persistence—his 'supplies'—came from the assumption that he would eventually emerge victorious, it was quite as unrealistic to try and outwait his patience as it was to try and top his arrogance.
Therefore, no more simple defenses. It was with a kind of resigned determination that Hizashi shouldered her schoolbag and headed out the door. I have to do more than just ignore him today. I'll go crazy if this keeps up for long.
Here the problem came in: how could she retaliate without first breaking her own silent pact to ignore him? There was no point in bringing out the catapults if they demolished her ranks as well as his. Yet sitting around doing nothing was definitely out of the question. Defense, obsolete; offence, infeasible. It seemed as though she had backed herself into a corner.
Well. Hizashi squared her jaw, tossing her head proudly on her morning walk to school. Her brown locks shone bronze in the harsh sunlight, giving it a look of steel-like rigidity and resilience. Inside, though, she felt far from invincible.
At times like these, she really had to make an effort to remind herself that she didn't have to give in to people like Oshitari. Equals, she told herself sternly. Even if he has social, financial and intellectual advantages, you and Oshitari are still equals.
On the same footing, who was to say that her tolerance wouldn't be able to outlast his tremendous ego in this game of pester-and-ignore? She nodded firmly to herself. There was still a chance. Her back automatically corrected its slouch; even her strides grew longer, more confident.
Then she slumped as all her shaky, self-deluding arguments crashed down around her ears like the Tower of Babel built out of Jell-O. Social, financial and intellectual advantages? She might as well start waving her sorry white flag now.
No, no, can't snap yet. Hizashi struggled to maintain her morale—which was actually quite difficult, though, being a one-man army, she had it easier than most generals leading feet-dragging troops—by exercising iron control over her mentality, aiming to keep up an optimistic outlook.
It was something she had learned to do though experience over the years; at Hyotei, where everyone was from upper class families, diplomatic self control was a prominent quality that everyone more or less needed, just to get by.
All right, so not equals. There was nothing to be done but concede that as a more well-rounded individual, Oshitari was more likely to win the war and get what he wanted from her (whatever it was that he wanted; Hizashi wasn't sure, though she was pretty certain it wasn't a date, whatever he said).
Thus, being in a compromising position, she had no choice but to fall back on a different motto: if the enemy has better swords and spears than you, use biological warfare. Or something like that; Hizashi wasn't going to be picky about what she used, as long it made Oshitari leave her alone, once and for all.
So, on to examining her personal arsenal. Given that the blue-haired menace had social, financial and intellectual advantages, it ruled out her getting help from important friends, hiring a few bodyguards, or insulting him into oblivion with sheer brilliance and wittiness. Because obviously he would have even more important friends to overrule hers, be able to hire even more bodyguards to get through hers, and make devastatingly smart comebacks to whatever she stuttered out.
She scowled. Why were the most unbearable people always born into superior circumstances? Life was so unfair.
What did that leave her, then? What did she have that he didn't? Hizashi frowned thoughtfully. When it came down to really significant differences between herself and Oshitari, the only major feature she could spot was that her life included a massive chunk of free time that he didn't have, due to his extensive tennis training. Also, not being devoted to a single team meant she had the chance to socialize with more people, and having a more flexible schedule gave her more time to get to know those people better.
Was that her 'secret weapon', then? That she knew more people better? She made a frustrated noise. That particular point had no relevance to her situation whatsoever.
Or did it? She had no alternative options; she might as well try to make this one work. Should she trust whoever said that there was no such thing as useless knowledge? As she thought about it, Hizashi began to wonder—what if her 'secret weapon' wasn't her knowledge on a broader range of the general population, but the population itself? None of the other people she knew were quite in the same department as Oshitari, but was it possible that a combination of rooks and bishops could overpower a single queen?
A piece of her earlier revelations came back to her just then.
She smiled. It looked like she had just invented her own type of offence-defense.
Tezumi entered the classroom, wary and skeptical. Day One of dating Fuji hadn't gone at all well, and she didn't dare hope that Day Two would turn out better.
Sure enough, half a dozen heads whipped around to face her as she came into the room, the eyes attached to all those heads glowering furiously. Isn't this a bit of an overreaction? She grimaced helplessly, gingerly sitting down at her desk and trying not to notice the resentment circling her from all around, moving in to suffocate her like a giant noose around her neck.
They're all so stupid, she thought with sudden fervor. All these girls, they hated her for dating Fuji. At the same time, they all wished they were in her place. But what exactly made them thing that being 'in her place' was a good thing? Didn't they know that if they ever actually got what they wanted (Fuji) then everyone who was glaring at her now would turn on them in a heartbeat with the same kind of dislike? People these days were so careless about what they wished for; they never thought things through at all.
Feeling wronged and exasperated, Tezumi wearily reached for her bag, yanking back the zipper and tugging out materials needed for her next class. Now that the other girls were done burning holes in her with their eyes, they were falling back on their favorite hate-activity—whispering spitefully behind her back. Only, as all gossips intend when they whisper, the rest of the room, Tezumi included, could hear every word.
"She must have blackmailed him and forced him to go out with her."
Tezumi nearly laughed. Blackmail Fuji? Faced with a well-established prodigy who had inherent intuition and manipulation abilities, and who spent his spare time watching other people suffer (her, for instance; it was plain by now that Fuji loved making her squirm and blush), they thought her strategy was to blackmail this person?
"No, I say their families secretly arranged their marriage at birth and he's just trying to comfort himself for being doomed to be stuck with her forever by pretending that he likes her in the first place."
It's true; soap operas lead to the degeneration of the human brain. Tezumi pinched the bridge of her nose, slumping in her chair. Well, this was what happened when everybody ignored the fact that he had been stalking her (very obviously, too) for a while now and that somehow she had been deluded enough to think that by agreeing to this 'ten days' thing, her life would actually be easier in the long run.
Well, it wasn't like that scenario was any more believable to the outsider than the blackmail or arranged marriage theory. Maybe she shouldn't blame them for trying to speculate.
"You know, I think—" A third girl spoke up, and Tezumi listened, her slack body propped up on her desk by her elbows.
Then, her eyes shot open in fury and horror as the girl finished proposing her hypothesis for why Fuji Syusuke, resident tensai and celebrity of Seigaku, was suddenly dating Tezumi Sachie, a literal nobody.
WHAT?!
Oshitari arrived at Hyotei with high hopes for that day. He'd thought it over: true, it was unfortunate that he had landed himself in Hizashi's bad books, but then he'd never exactly been in her good books in the first place, and being on a blacklist was better than being on no list at all.
Having made such an important headway into gaining Hizashi's attention, he would employ one of the oldest and most straight forwards military tactics of all time—when the enemy runs, you give chase.
Feeling as though nothing could go wrong, he sauntered up to meet her. To be quite honest, Oshitari was actually surer of himself in dealing with the girl, now that she was good and pissed at him. It was this enmity-dominated mindset that he understood most in his tennis opponents, and he'd always had no qualms about using it against them—temper provoked irrationality, which always brought out weaknesses, which could be capitalized on. It disconcerted him slightly that he had to get Hizashi angry in order to be able to understand her, but for now he'd take what he could have.
As he approached her where she sat casually at her desk, he noticed with a mixed sense of apprehension and relief—a combination he hadn't thought possible before—that she was still studiously dismissing his presence. Otherwise she looked as she always did, save that today, instead of sitting alone to do her before-class reading as usual, she was with Kobayashi Yuki, who, to Oshitari's best knowledge of Hizashi's social circle (which was quite extensive), wasn't a close friend of Hizashi's at all.
No matter. The other girl's presence wouldn't impede his mission. "Ah, Jukumaru, I see you were wracked with too much grief of not having spoken to me all yesterday afternoon that you didn't manage to attend your usual tennis practice." He smirked for good measure. If that didn't get a rise out of her, he'd be very, very surprised.
And surprised he was indeed. Hizashi didn't so much as twitch a pinkie. Instead, Yuki obliged in her friend's stead by answering for her. "Oh, she wasn't depressed or anything," the round-faced blonde informed him eagerly. "I don't know why—she won't tell me—but she hung out at the mall with Miyumi instead of playing tennis."
Oshitari arched a brow. The mall? Could it be that Hizashi hadn't been trying to avoid him at all, and had only given in to a sudden whim to shop? That would not be good. "You were picking out the dress to wear to our first date, Jukumaru?" he probed.
To his annoyance, it was Yuki who replied once again. "I don't think so. She was just telling me about the new sports shoes she bought. Anyway, Hizashi doesn't like dresses a lot. I've always disagreed with her." She smiled conspiratorially.
"I see." Oshitari's lips tightened as he saw his brunette target calmly turn a page, not appearing to listen to the conversation at all. "So you're secretly dying to go on a tennis date with me," he addressed Hizashi directly, pointedly ignoring Yuki.
"No, she got track shoes," the blond clarified happily, clearly thrilled that the other girl wasn't giving Oshitari any mind.
Oshitari, on the other hand, was not pleased. Why was this Yuki here answering all questions directed at Hizashi for her? He could stand here talking all day and still not get through to the true intended recipient. Why was Yuki suddenly hanging around Hizashi, anyway? They had never been good friends; he got the impression that the latter found the former much too frivolous and silly—and she was right, Yuki was clearly a fan girl.
It just didn't make any sense. Hizashi would never spend time with someone like Yuki voluntarily. Oshitari suspected even he would make a more preferable companion. So what was going on?
He spent a few more minutes firing away completely outrageous statements and inquiries, all of which were deflected from Hizashi's ears by a golden haired nuisance, who was as determined as ever to point out that the other girl didn't care about him, while she evidently did. Hizashi managed to finish one book and move on to the next during this time, going so far as to twirl a pencil with her fingers in a nonchalant manner that suggested she didn't have a worry in the world besides homework.
This did not go down well with Oshitari. His eyes narrowed as she flipped over yet another page, obviously having forgotten that he was even there. It was this Yuki's fault, he knew. Her steady flow of chatter in response to his increasingly irritated attempts to start a conversation with Hizashi took the pressure to answer off the former, leaving her free to, very literally, stop acknowledging his existence. It was not even pretend anymore on Hizashi's part, he could tell.
Why did Yuki abruptly decide to take liberty and act as Hizashi's personal secretary? Oshitari's stare bore into the latter's profile, willing himself to somehow read her mind like Atobe ludicrously thought he could. Why did Yuki think that Hizashi wouldn't mind having someone speak over her head for her? Why—?
Then it dawned upon him. He was a genius, after all.
Oshitari's eyes widened a tiny fraction as he realized what exactly was going on. How could he have not seen it before? Yuki was there because Hizashi wanted her to be. Yuki was answering for her—and had all the information to do it flawlessly—because Hizashi had arranged for it to be this way. Hizashi had chosen Yuki as a pawn, purposefly, and she had done it because she knew that Yuki was aggressive in her advances towards the Hyotei tennis regulars, and never gave up a chance to do just what she was doing now.
Hizashi was fighting back.
And she's bringing in outside help, Oshitari realized. She needs to because she wants to keep ignoring me, but also wants to aim a few hits in retaliation.
His smirk returned in an instant. Once again he was reminded that Hizashi intrigued him for a reason. Out of all the girls he knew, she alone could claim to be able to play his game.
Good, he thought. Challenges excited him. It takes two to tango, and I'm only one.
Fuji was having a very agreeable morning, making a bouquet of roses out of pink crepe paper, when the door to the tennis team locker room was flung open, hitting the wall with a bang that made regulars cleaning up after morning practice yell in alarm.
Being the unflappable individual he was, Fuji made no sudden movements beyond sweeping his half-finished roses into a paper bag at his side as Tezumi charged in like a bull that had seen red. And she had. Seen red, that is.
"FUJI!" she nearly screamed, but got no more words out as she literally choked on the million and one things she wanted to say.
"Daijobou, Tezumi?" Sliding gracefully off the wooden bench he had been sitting on, Fuji was beside her at once, offering his water bottle between light pats on her back.
She knocked his hand away. "You—don't—I've had enough."
The majority of the other boys in the room jumped, and on recovering their wits, began to—very sensibly—inch towards the exit, because of course everyone knew what happened to relationships in which one party said 'I've had enough'—or at least they were intuitive enough to know that their prolonged presence would get them involved in something messy.
Fuji, on the other hand, remained unshakably optimistic. He and Tezumi were a couple—albeit a temporary one (for now)—and couples were supposed to set aside their personal grievances in favor of effective communication. "Maa, what's bothering you, Tezumi?"
Tezuka and Echizen walked away without a backward glance, but Momoshiro, Inui, Oishi, Kawamura, Eiji, and even Kaidoh yielded to temptation, and their overwhelming inquisitiveness stopped them at the door with Eiji's hand on the knob. They watched as a flustered and furious Tezumi attempted to explain herself.
"You—you—I—I—they said," she gulped, "they said—"
"Who are 'they'?" Fuji asked kindly. "And what did they say?"
"THEY SAID I SEDUCED YOU!"
For a moment, her fists clenched, her jaw locked and she glowered at him with eyes that said this was all his fault. But the instant passed, and she slumped against a wall, caving under the strain of exhaustion. Being continuously enraged was quite tiring, after all.
The room froze. Cheeks flared red and gazes turned away awkwardly. Everyone besides Fuji, who appeared mildly befuddled, and Tezumi, who was still catching her breath, pursed their lips together in suppression of some reaction barely held in. At last, Momoshiro could stand it no longer.
"Quit laughing," Tezumi snapped weakly with a murderous glare. "There's nothing funny about the whole school thinking I'm a—a—"
"But Tezumi senpai," sputtered a chortling Second Year, "that's just dumb. Anybody can see that you blush holding Fuji senpai's hand, never mind something—something else..."
Faces all around took on an even brighter crimson. "Perverted idiot," Kaidoh muttered through a violent blush. For once, Momoshiro didn't retaliate. He was too busy appreciating the hilarity of the situation.
Tezumi, on the other hand, saw things in a less humorous light. "I'm telling you," she all but wailed. 'I've had enough! It's only day two and I'm already labeled a—" She shuddered involuntarily. "I don't care if Fuji turns out to be a spectacular date; I'm not risking the entire school giving me hell until I graduate."
Kawamura, whose blushes came quickly and therefore receded quickly as well, tried to console her. 'People just aren't used to the idea of you and Fuji going out, ne, minna?" he glanced around for support and extracted a few distracted nods. "Like you said, it's only the second day."
"Sou, sou," Eiji chimed in earnestly. "And anyway, it's not 'the entire school', nya! The boys are fine about you being Fujiko's girlfriend. It's only the girls that hate you."
Tezumi didn't bother to reply. The only response to that frank analysis was an embarrassed 'Eiji!' from Oishi, who was still a deep shade of magenta.
At that moment, the door to the clubhouse opened once more. Hitomi poked her head in. "Tezumi? There you are." Stepping into the room she went over to her distressed friend. "Sorry," she inclined her head to the regulars around. "I know we're not supposed to be in here, but Tezumi heard somebody say some—upsetting—things, and…" She gestured at the aforementioned girl helplessly.
"It's not a problem at all." Oishi, who had recovered somewhat, hastened to reassure the girl. "Tezumi's been in here before, after all. Ryuzaki sensei's been lax about it, since she and Fuji—"
"Since she and Fuji senpai need some private time together," Momoshiro finished and cracked up, putting himself in mortal peril as Tezumi reached for the nearest object (a training dumbbell) and raised it high. Hitomi tried to wrestle it from her grasp. "Killing him doesn't help. You'll only add 'violent' to your reputation…"
"That's not what I was going to say!" At another corner, Oishi admonished an unrepentant Momoshiro, though his (Oishi's) flaming cheeks lessened the 'stern fuku-buchou' effect.
"Perverted baka," Kaidoh repeated vehemently. This time the other Second Year did take offence, and retaliated in kind, leading up to their customary squabbling. Oishi, faced with this greater conflict, turned his attention towards placating the two.
Kawamura would have gone to assist Hitomi in calming Tezumi (who still gave no indication of forgiving Momoshiro anytime soon) but got no further than Eiji, who stopped the former in his tracks with the innocent question of, "What do Fujiko and Tezumi-chan need private time for?"
It was then discovered that Eiji was in total ignorance of not only Momoshiro's earlier comment on Tezumi holding something of Fuji's, but also the reasons which compelled her to drop a weight on Momoshiro's head.
But as the clueless acrobat had gone to Kawamura of all people for enlightenment, he naturally got no instant answers. After a series of stuttering, blushing and curious inquiries, Eiji's mind remained mercifully untainted.
And amid the various shouts and stammers flitted low mumbles of 'ii data'.
Somehow the chaotic surroundings served to calm her down. Tezumi reflected wryly on how disturbing this phenomenon actually was. It was a mark of how used to hanging around a mischief loving (and making) genius she was that total pandemonium became her comfort zone.
"You can let go now, Hitomi," she said wearily, her grip on the 5-kilo dumbbell going limp. Her friend warily released her.
Tezumi took in the happenings in the rest of the room with a sweeping glance. Momoshiro and Kaidoh were at each other's throats while Oishi tugged fruitlessly at their collars in a vain attempt to separate them (neither appeared to notice he was there), Kawamura—with a large brunette beat with sideburns for a head)—was speaking to the mass of exploding question marks that was Eiji, and Inui was scribbling away like data made the world go round.
What bothered her most was that she didn't find any of this particularly strange.
The faster she got out of there, the better. "Come on, Hitomi, it's almost time for class." Pushing off from the wall, she made her way through the mundane ruckus toward the door. She had almost reached it when she finally noticed Fuji, who was standing to one side, tapping his chin and looking uncharacteristically perplexed.
Tezumi did not, even for a second, forget that she was supposed to be mad at him. However, there was so much honest confusion on his face that she couldn't help but stop and ask, "Fuji? Something wrong?"
The tensai jerked out of his reverie. "Maa, it's just a little thing," he said. "There's something I don't really understand, you see."
"Which would be?"
"Well," Fuji began pleasantly. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Tezumi, but I'm under the impression that you're upset because somebody's been spreading rumors about you seducing me, is that right?"
Heat and blood rushed to Tezumi's head, but she persevered in nodding. "Something like that," she choked out through a constricted throat.
"But…" Fuji was frustrated now. He gazed at her through troubled eyes. "But, Tezumi…
"You did."