Chapter 4

At times I dread my now and envy where I've been

"Sir? Wataru?"

"Hmm?" I looked up from the weights to Chiyo, and she tensed for a split second before relaxing and giving me a smile.

"You've completed the set."

Oh. I blinked and automatically glanced up at the weights, then let them fall back into their nook. I hadn't noticed. "That didn't take long."

"You were pretty deep in thought," said Chiyo, glancing down to scribble something on her clipboard. I sat up, shaking out my hands, stretching my arms and pressing an experimental hand to my aching side. Now that I was aware I could feel the lurking fatigue in my limbs that would have quickly turned into exhaustion if I'd continued.

I almost wished I could have. There was something to be said about being able to press yourself to your very limits, and part of me wondered if it would have helped me sleep better, but physical therapy was too regulated to ever let it happen.

Pity.

"You're finished now," Chiyo announced, looking up and tugging the page out from under the clip. "And you have an appointment with Doctor Ishii today."

A psych evaluation, then. Wonderful. I sighed and hid it in the towel I was using to scrub off my face. "Right," I mumbled, towelling off my arms, throwing it over my shoulder and then accepting the folded page from him.

She flicked her pen at me with a smile and faintly affected benevolence. "Shoo."

I half saluted her with the page in my hand and made for the locker room to wash off properly. I was barely a week out of the hospital wing, if even that, so the agents still in the room still looked at me sidelong when I entered, conversations cut off and I didn't linger to chat. There was very little privacy in the showers and I didn't exactly want to show off my scars. Not now I knew where I'd probably got most of them.

Washed, dressed and gym clothes in the basket, I headed for the doors leading to the medical wing and the desk to check in, ignoring the sudden jump of one of the agents inside who hadn't expected me to come through the doors. That still happened relatively frequently, though thankfully it had never been anything as bad as that first morning when I came out of the mess-hall.

My schedule was regular. I had physical therapy most mornings, and then, if not a doctor's appointment or a psychological evaluation, plenty of time to wander the base. My first psych evaluation had been on my third morning out, straight after my second PT session, with the resident psychologist. Doctor Ishii was slight, black-haired, confident … psychic. Literally. And although he didn't exactly force his way into my mind, he always knew when I was lying or holding back.

Afterward, I decided as I handed the PT form over to the nurse on duty, I'd go visit Ichigo for lunch before going to my first tutoring lesson. Marilyn had been released three days ago and I'd been getting the feeling Ichigo was feeling lonely with not being able to be out with the rest of us, even though he was sure to be released soon. Maybe we could cheer each other up.

"Ah, Wataru, you're already here."

I turned to see Ishii at the door to his office, looking me over with a smile before his gaze met mine. "You look well."

"I just had PT," I pointed out. I probably looked tired.

"Yes, well …" He shrugged, smiled again and gestured me into the room. Perpetually optimistic, was Ishii, or so I had gotten from meeting him once.

I moved over to the plush chair facing his and heard the door click shut behind me, then his footsteps approaching. "So. How have you been, Wataru?"

"All right." I sat on the edge of the chair. It was the kind that I just wished I could sit back in and sink into, but I didn't quite feel comfortable enough in Ishii's presence to do that yet.

"Really?" He took his own seat, shooting me a look that said he'd divined whatever the hell it was I hadn't wanted to tell him, and I sighed. Last time I'd told him about what had happened when I left the mess-hall. It had been only a couple of days after it had happened, after all, and by that time I'd needed to tell someone. But it wasn't as if I wanted to whine to him—it wasn't exactly something he could change and wasn't something I could, so what was the point?

"More of the same, really," I admitted. "Just—me taking people by surprise, I guess. They're getting better when they know I'm there, but sometimes …" And it was true. Most people in the mess hall who looked at me did so out of curiosity and interest, now, and some had even gingerly made wisecracks at my expense.

Even so, it was strange how the status quo had been reversed in my dreams. In reality everyone was watchful, nervous, only slowly relaxing. In my sleep I'd enter a room and no one would look over, and that was when I'd attack.

"What was that thought you just had?"

I jumped, looking up with a blink to find him looking at me, his head tilted slightly, chin resting on his fist. "I …" It was such a knowing look that my throat closed and I looked away.

There were a few moments of silence before he prodded me. "You mentioned last time you have dreams." Automatically I nodded. He had probably already known that before the first time we met, because of how I'd reacted to what Ichigo had told me. He confirmed that a moment later by saying, "Are they still of you … attacking others?"

I looked down at my lap and nodded again. I hadn't told Sakaki or Kitano that. There was no point; neither of them could stop the dreams, even if they could give me the will to rise above them. Kitano had said outright that too many sedatives would interfere with my medication. And it wasn't as if I could stop the dreams from coming just by … curling up on my bed and hoping they'd go away or something ridiculous like that, as much as I'd done it for the first few days after I'd found out.

There was more silence, but this time Ishii didn't seem inclined to break it, and I could feel his patient eyes on me. Finally I mumbled, "Usually it's the people I know. But sometimes it's the people I know people have known that I—" Killed. Like Marilyn's friend.

"Do they usually have any particular running theme?" he asked gently. I shrugged.

"Mostly I use a gun? I guess because they're the easiest weapon. But sometimes …" My breath caught and I had to clear my throat. "Sometimes I dream I'm the kairyuu." And then I flushed, because what the fuck was up with that? Aside from the similarities between its conduct and mine, and that it was probably responsible—

"The Boss told you that pokémon were responsible for your condition, didn't he?" It wasn't a question but statement, something to lead into the next topic, but it still surprised me and made me look up. He looked back sympathetically; I felt my flush deepen. In a way it was almost easier that he seemed to know what I was thinking—in another it was just unnerving.

"Yes," I said, fighting to keep a steady tone. "And I …" I stopped, unsure how to express the next bit. Would it be tattling on the other agents, to say what I suspected and why? Or would they have already gone to Ishii to tell him themselves?

He could probably tell, because he smiled gently and said, "Yuudai told me about a conversation that happened at breakfast when you first got out. About their reactions when they found out you had seen it. He was concerned they might have frightened you."

"The kairyuu did it to me, didn't it?" I heard myself asking, half in a daze of relief. "That's why they were so scared."

"It's one reason," Ishii said, and my gut tightened. I knew it. I knew it was true. "The other is that … the last time you lost control, you released it into the base."

I flinched. Dammit—the garage and base entrance had been under construction when Yuudai and Aina had shown me around, and they'd said it was because of the dragonite's rampage, but they'd never said I'd been involved too.

A moment later I felt Ishii's hand on my knee, squeezing. "It's not your fault. Different pokémon have different sorts of radiation, and they affect people in different ways. The dragons are the ones that did the most damage to you."

I inhaled deeply, feeling suddenly weak with adrenaline, my heart pounding. Even so I made myself look up, looking him squarely in the eye and swallowing. "What happened? I mean—why?"

He examined me for a moment before nodding. "Dragons are incredibly powerful, Wataru. You've trained a few, and the more you trained the more of a … propensity, I suppose you could say … you had for them. That one was the one that tipped the scales."

"Did it—" I started to say, and then had to stop and take a deep breath, my heart suddenly pounding with something like hope. "Was—was it controlling me?"

His expression shifted to open sympathy tinged with sorrow. "No. I'm sorry, Wataru, but no. A psychic pokémon, perhaps, could be blamed for that, but not a dragon. You were drawn to it, yes, but anything you did you did on your own."

Fuck. I looked away and took a deep breath, swallowing to keep the prickle in my eyes from getting too strong and clenching my fists in my lap. It took me a few moments to get myself under control, but Ishii didn't say anything, and when I looked back I saw his eyes were closed.

They opened and he smiled at me, a wan smile. "Yes?"

"How can I stop it from happening again?" I blurted out. "What if it does? What happens when I'm fit for duty again? What will I do? What if just being around them sets me off? Or near them? Does this mean I can't be a trainer again, and if I can't what the hell can I contribute? What good's an agent who can't pull his weight? What—"

Ishii lifted a hand and I cut myself off, taking a deep breath and finding myself trembling slightly with adrenaline, my fists clenched in my lap.

"First of all, Wataru," he said, "though I imagine Kitano would have told you this when you got closer to being clearer for duty, as long as you're not around dragon pokémon you should be fine."

Really? My heart did a sudden quick pound, and I must have looked or felt disbelieving because he smiled encouragingly at me.

"The Boss probably didn't want to overload you with information at the time, but yes, it's true. It's dragons who did this to you, but the radiation produced by other pokémon has about as much effect as on anyone else—that is, not much. It's why the Team collects many kinds of pokémon; it reduces the chance that its agents will be overly affected by the radiation of one type over time."

"So I … could go back to training if I wanted?" Why did my heart have to beat so loud? I wasn't even sure if I'd be able to hear his answer.

"Do you want to?" he asked, and I floundered.

"I—I don't know."

He patted my hand. "That's alright. You don't need to know—not yet. But you haven't as much reason to fear pokémon as I suppose you thought you did."

I found myself nodding, more vigorously than I'd been intending. Yes, that was right. Here I'd been thinking it was pokémon in general and wondering how the hell I was meant to stay away from them when they were everywhere. There was a brief pang of annoyance that Sakaki hadn't told me this from the outset. Maybe he hadn't wanted to overload me with information or something, but still!

"As for what might set you off," Ishii continued, "that's what these appointments are for, Wataru. Doctor Kitano will keep an eye on your medication and adjust it as necessary, and I will watch your mind. As long as we—and you—are vigilant, and given your remarkable progress thus far, I see no reason for you to relapse at all."

He was the third person to have said that, but somehow it carried more weight this time, making me feel weak with relief. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn't just a doctor, but a psychologist—he probably knew more about my mind than anyone, and I didn't mean just in the way my thought process worked.

"I imagine this might not help with the dreams at first," he said, "but in time your subconscious may come to accept this truth. Nevertheless, I do encourage you to talk about them with me, since they are a representative of your subconscious fears, and you hardly need them holding you back."

I nodded again, hardly able to find the words to answer that. It was true, after all, and it was relieving to know I could talk about them to someone. Ishii didn't seem to be afraid of me, just as Sakaki wasn't, but he wasn't my employer either.

He smiled. "Good. Now, unless there was something else you needed to talk about, why don't we call this session over, eh? I think you've taken in enough today."

To my surprise, I laughed—shortly and a little humourlessly, but it was still a laugh. "Yeah—I mean, no, I didn't have anything else in particular." And even though he'd told me things that made my heart pound, I did feel better.

"Very well, then." He stood with a smile and I followed suit, feeling a little wobbly on my legs but less tense than I had been when I entered. "In that case, all I have to remind you of is our next appointment. That said, if at any time you want to talk, Wataru, my door is open."

"Thank you," I said, and meant it.

I hurried down the corridor, glancing at my watch. Early—good. I wasn't exactly losing my way around the base, but I hadn't been sure how much time I should give Ichigo before I left. The man had been cheerful through lunch, despite his leg still being in its cast, but at least he was no longer confined to the bed and apparently felt comfortable enough to rib me ceaselessly.

Which may have been the reason I was so early. I appreciated that he was including me, but after the near cold silence I'd received from everyone else it took some getting used to.

At any rate, I generally tried to move through the lab wing's corridors as quickly as humanly possible anyway. Sometimes I felt as if I could still feel the corridor shake with something fighting to break out.

As long as it isn't me, I told myself, turning around a corner and entering my target corridor. The office in which I was supposed to be meeting my new tutor, Anderson Hanako, was third down from the end. I had a lot I needed to refamiliarise myself with.

I knocked on the door and slipped in, just I case my tutor had beaten me to it. She had, apparently, because she looked wordlessly up from a stack of paper when I entered. Resisting the urge to shift uncomfortably, I nodded at her in greeting and made for the unused chair opposite her.

"You're early," she said flatly, and I paused in the process of pulling the chair out from the desk.

"Ah … yes? Is that a problem?"

Her lip curled slightly and my stomach dropped. Don't tell me she's another one who wants nothing to do with me.

"We're not all here to cater to your whims, Himura."

Oh yes; yes, she was. Wonderful. I knew my family name from looking at my personnel file, but no one so far had called me by it in a tone of such disdain.

"I've got things I have to do which have nothing to do with tutoring you," she continued, "and I'm not going to start early just because that's when you got here. So you can just sit there 'til it's time, got it?"

"Alright," I said quietly, and sat.

Anderson was true to her word; on the dot of the hour, nearly twenty minutes later, she closed the file with a snap and shoved it aside, reaching for another one on the other side of the desk. Even upside-down I could read my name on it.

"Right," she said in a tone that was more flat than brisk, "now that it's time for the lesson to begin, I'm going to lay down some ground rules that I expect to be obeyed by whoever is under my tutelage." She looked me square in the face as she spoke. Her expression didn't flicker; in fact she stared, her gaze drilling into me. "Firstly, you'll get here sharply at two. I've other things to do beforehand, and I'm sure you've nothing else pressing enough to cut into our allotted time."

At the last part of the sentence her monotone took on a mildly pointed, ironic tone that made my cheeks heat; I focussed on not clenching my fists under the desk and holding her gaze.

"I expect you to study," she continued, "though you might find it difficult to apply yourself that much, having been in the hospital wing so long."

And the way she said it, the challenging flash in her eyes, made it perfectly clear that she knew why I'd been in the hospital wing and that as far as she was concerned I was lucky to have been there. It was that which made me flush the deepest—I knew perfectly well how I'd gotten there, thanks. I didn't need some snide agent reminding me.

Somehow I got the feeling I was going to be reminded constantly.

"But I'm sure you have plenty of time to study nowadays. Don't disappoint me."

Too late.

"We'll have a three-hour session every afternoon; there's a lot you need to be tutored in—" she raised her eyebrow fractionally— "so we have to cover as much as possible, as quickly as possible. In addition, we need to find out what you do still recall. So we'll start with some general academic tests in which I'm sure you'll do your best, and then tomorrow we'll move onto the brief recent history of the Team and the politics which led to its inception and its processes. Once we know where you're lacking we'll go on to cover those more scientific processes which most people would require to complete their duties, including those relating to pokémon handling."

I blinked, startled. She'd laid enough emphasis on the word 'scientific' that it made me wonder if there was something there I'd used to do—or not do—which merited her disapproval.

And what about me doesn't so far?

It was enough for me to slide on past to the middle part of the comment and the implication in it. If 'most people' meant not me, then it meant it was something she believed I didn't do, or which I had believed I didn't need, which meant—

"Finally, I expect you to pay attention!"

The last was a bellow, accompanied by a thud right in front of me that made me jump. Anderson snarled at me. "Mark my words, Himura; I don't care how much of the Boss's favour you have. You're my student now and you're damn well going to work for it! Got it?"

Wordlessly I nodded, my jaw clenched, trying not to telegraph either my irritation or my incredulity. She's jealous!

"Now." She dropped a pile of stapled papers to the desk. "Here's your test. You've got two hours and fifty minutes; if you can't get it done by then you'll have to finish it tomorrow and push back the whole schedule."

"I don't have a pen," I said as evenly as I could manage as I dragged it toward me, ignoring the accusation of potential laziness in her words. Her lip curled and she tossed one onto the paper.

"If this was a graded test you'd fail, Himura. Start."

Things didn't get better after that; I had a three-hour lesson with Anderson every afternoon. She never deliberately gave me impossible tasks, but it felt as if she was just waiting for me to do something she could remark on. If I asked her to repeat something she would say, "Not paying attention, Himura? Figures." When I made a mistake she would tut and go, "And you want to go back to being executive?" or "What, you think you don't have to study as hard as everyone else, do you?"

After the first lesson I did worry, for a little while, that she might sabotage my test, but then I realised that would have been stupid. She wasn't doing anything that would get her into trouble; even if I'd intended to give in and tell on her like a schoolkid, she wasn't doing anything I could prove was bad. That was all she did—make snide remarks.

That and delight in giving me surprise tests. Most of the things I remembered were fundamental—colours, languages, names of things, basic math, festival dates. Things that weren't related to the Team, pokémon training or my own personal history in any way. I could even remember bits and pieces of history.

But there were definitely other things I felt like I should have known, that built on the things that I did know, but which I blatantly didn't. Those were the things that made me realise what Anderson had meant by 'processes which most people would require to complete their duties'. I don't know if she was being truthful when she said "your previous education letting you down, Himura?" or not, but given the differences between what I did remember and what I didn't, I was beginning to wonder if I didn't know some of those things because I just hadn't bothered to learn them beforehand.

Not that I was going to admit it to her.

It didn't matter. I wasn't going to let her be proven right. Alright, so I'd been a bastard at one stage. I'd changed and I was going to stay changed, and I would damn well prove it.

Maybe that was what had started it all. Or to be more precise, it was the studying which started it all. That is, the fact that I'd taken my handheld computer into the mess hall with me so I could study while I ate.

That was a mistake.

I didn't notice anyone's reactions at first. I brought my tray over to the usual table and dropped the handheld with a clatter above it, sitting down and scrolling through the list of study materials I'd downloaded from the base library. In fact I didn't notice anything at all until someone's finger came into my vision to point at an answer I'd just scrawled onto the little notebox at the corner of the screen.

"I've no idea what that even means."

I blinked at the problem for a moment. I didn't have any idea what it meant either, but since this was supposed to be somewhat standard work and just about anyone else was sure to know better than I, I just nodded a thank you and flipped the touch-pen so I could erase it and scribble my alternative answer.

"I've no idea what that means either."

I flushed as one of Rafael's friends asked, voice amused, "Got a test to study for?"

"No," I said simply, and jabbed at the box's scrollbar to hide the problem. A moment later I added, "There's just a lot I need to catch up on."

"Of course. Can't let yourself get behind." The tone sounded innocent, but I glanced over out of the corner of my eye and caught the highly amused looks more than one agent was exchanging with their fellows.

Wonderful. I dropped my eyes back to the book, trying to stave off the burn in my cheeks. Worse, none of my closer friends were at the table with me. Rafael was, but he still ducked his head and didn't talk to me unless he absolutely needed to, and I never dared push him.

Fortunately they left me alone after that, aside from the feeling that they were talking about me in whispers down the end of the table. At least, they left me alone until I reached for the soy sauce without looking up from the book, my fingers taking a few minutes to find the bottle so I could dibble it over my fish.

It wasn't until I'd taken a bite and my mouth and nose burned that I realised it wasn't soy sauce at all—or not completely. I couldn't help but cough and gasp a little, but managed to keep from diving for my cup and instead picked it up as casually as I could to down the water.

I didn't even know we got wasabi for the tables! I thought, keeping my eyes closed to keep them from watering.

"Alright there, Wataru?" someone asked casually.

"Fine," I managed to say after a moment, my voice a little hoarse, and I put the cup down with a harder thud than I'd intended. "Wasn't paying attention. Excuse me."

Not hungry anymore, I picked up my tray and computer, and nodded at the other agents before leaving. By chance I glanced back while emptying the tray into the garbage.

They were all laughing their heads off. So were a couple of agents on the neighbouring tables, and as my gut clenched with realisation I turned hurriedly away so they didn't see me flush.

This is ridiculous. I cursed to myself as I yanked another pair of pants out of my drawer, throwing it on my bed and going for a shirt and jacket. My whole body throbbed with a burning sensation every time I moved; it wasn't painful, quite, but it was constant, unceasing, annoying. Worse, I had no idea what was causing it—it wasn't a rash.

Growling, I picked up all the clothes and stalked into my bathroom. I had an hour to try and get rid of the burn before I had my lesson with Anderson.

Tossing the clothes onto the counter, I turned on the shower and stepped in, breathing a sigh of relief at the cold water. Much better.

I stayed in there much longer than was my warrant, relishing the coolness before climbing out. It was only when I was picking up my trousers and saw the faintest glimpse of red on the inside, almost invisible against the black, that the realisation hit me. I froze, staring down at the pants, and then numbly reached in to rub my finger against it.

Not fluff. Powder.

They had to have gone through and unfolded every one of my clothes to put it in, I thought detachedly. It had to have been after breakfast; the burn had only started after PT when I'd changed out of my gym clothes, which I'd worn to breakfast. And they were already in the laundry so I couldn't wear them again.

Mechanically I pulled the pants on. Next time I washed my own clothes.

"I heard you had a bit of trouble at breakfast the other day," Aina said quietly from behind me. I shrugged without turning to her, busy trying to track down an electronic book on the library database.

"Just had trouble studying, is all." What was I going to tell her? That someone had put wasabi in my soy sauce? She wasn't responsible for them, and I wasn't going to give in to them by whining. Let them see I could take the heat.

There was a moment's silence, broken only by the hum of computers and the shuffle of one or two others working in some of the library's other cubicles. I ignored it all, my stomach coiling and uncoiling with the fact that I couldn't find the title of the book supposedly there. I'd gotten it right when Anderson told it to me; I'd double-checked it twice. With a growl I went back to the start of the list to go through it again.

"What's wrong?" I heard the rattle of a chair moving back and sensed Aina hovering over my shoulder, and shook my head in disgust.

"I just can't find this electronic book Anderson told me to read." I hadn't been able to find it on my personal computer, so I'd thought maybe it would show on one of the public ones in the library—hence my being there.

Aina picked up the note and then vanished back to her own computer (she said she'd been researching for an upcoming field mission). I was halfway down the list when I heard her say, "Got it." My head shot up and I looked over, blinking in surprise, as she turned her screen so I could see the entry right there between two other entries I remembered scrolling past.

"What? Why's it showing up on your computer and not m—" My breath caught in realisation and my face closed down.

It wasn't showing up on my computer. "Log into here for me and find it again, will you?"

I signed out and pushed away, and wordlessly Aina rolled close so she could login on the computer I'd just been using. Sure enough, when she searched for it she found the book without trouble. The bastards had blocked me.

I took a deep breath and forced my hands to relax, telling my heart that it could slow down.

Aina didn't turn as she mumbled, "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." My voice was hard, angry, so I tried to soften it. "I doubt you had anything to do with it."

She shrugged and logged out again, rolling back over to her own computer. "Still. It's immature of them. Give me your handheld; I'll download it for you. And Yuudai told me to tell you that if you want, he can help you study in his spare time. His timetable will be settling down soon so he'd be able to manage it."

I handed the computer over, my next exhale loosening my gut with a rush of warm relief. I hadn't wanted to ask Yuudai for help; he'd been busy over in administration since getting his cast off and going back to work full-time. But if he was offering, and if Aina wasn't going to be here, it seemed I was going to need someone to collect my study material.

"I'll talk to him about it. Thanks for the message."

"You're welcome." Aina turned to me with a smile, holding out the HC. As I took it I was surprised by the realisation that that was the first time I'd seen her smile unreservedly.

"Wataru!" Yuudai's voice made me stop and turn outside the gym doors, and with a greeting smile I waited for him to catch up to me.

"Yuudai. So you are alive." I stumbled a little over the last word, and grimaced. Still not quite up to making light of my past conduct or my nightmares, apparently.

Yuudai gave me something of a grimace in return, but didn't comment on the joke or its appropriateness; in fact it barely dimmed the grin he wore. "No thanks to my immediate superior. I have some time this afternoon if you wanted some help studying. And I've got pictures of my daughter's birthday." He waved the envelope he clutched. That explained his expression.

I couldn't help but grin a little in response, feeling lighter than I had when I'd been deciding what to do today. "I was going to see if I could get away with a couple more hours of exercise, but that sounds good."

My appointment with Kitano had been short, so I had the time. A few days ago the doctor had let me start trying to recall some of my fighting forms, but it was a difficult prospect given that I had apparently studied a style most other agents hadn't, so none of them could lead me through it. I could stand to avoid that frustration.

"You need a hobby," Yuudai said, falling into step beside me. "Training and studying all day long isn't good for you, Wataru. Aina does the exact same thing with work."

"At least she's being productive," I pointed out, but he just shook his head and threw up his hands, muttering, "Field agents."

In short order we'd made it to my room and I'd managed to give Yuudai a rundown on what I was supposed to be doing for Anderson and how I was having trouble—both with understanding it and actually getting the resources to understand it.

"Yeah, Aina told me you were having trouble with the computer," was all he'd said on the matter.

I directed him to the desk (noting as wryly as I could manage that maybe he could fix that 'computer problem'), then headed for my wardrobe and then the bathroom for the shower I hadn't bothered to have after PT, expecting to go back to the gym as I had been.

The shower was cold. Not just 'cold because I hadn't turned the hot water tap enough', but 'cold the hot water tap wasn't working at all'.

I hate cold showers, I decided as I came out not long after, shivering, rubbing my hands and cursing under my breath. That water had been icy.

Yuudai took one look at me and went for the environmental controls on the wall; being underground like we were, the temperature of the entire base was regulated through the ventilation system.

I was still squeezing out my hair when he said rather calmly, "Your heater's not working."

"Of course it's not working," I muttered bitterly, whipping the towel forcefully down into the laundry basket. "It wouldn't have the same effect if I just came out of a freezing-cold shower into a nice, warm room, now, would it?"

"You need to say something."

"I won't give them the satisfaction," I snarled, yanking a comb through my hair. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him flinch. The sight made my stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with anger, and there was a moment of awkward silence. I could feel the heat of a flush in my cheeks, but I didn't dare say anything else in case I snapped at him again, and after a moment Yuudai cleared his throat.

"Well. Why don't we get started on this higher math, then?"

Throwing the comb down on my bed, I nodded, somehow only half relieved that he hadn't called me out on my irritation.