Warnings: Some foul language.

Speak

Chapter 02:

"Encounters"

A few days later, Yuuki and I met at the train station so we could commute together on our first day back at school. We'd met at the same spot each and every day of both middle and high school. She stood on the platform with a cellphone in her hand, chatting amiably away to someone on the other end—a familiar vision that made any anxiety about returning to school disappear. When she saw me trot up the stairs and into view, her eyes lit up. She waved her school-issued bag over her head. I waved back and went to meet her; I got there just in time to hear her bid the person on the phone goodbye.

"See ya when we get there," she was saying. "Yeah, I'll tell her. Bye!"

"What's up?" I signed as she slipped the vibrant pink phone into her bag.

Rather than reply, she threw her arms around my neck. "Ohmigod, Momo, I missed you!" she squealed as I straightened my back. Her feet hovered a good six inches off the ground; I'm pretty tall, at least 170 centimeters, and she's no bigger than 155 on a good day. "Never leave me again!"

I put her down and maneuvered her away from my body so I could sign. "I saw you last week on your birthday, dummy!"

She gave me her most gigantic, watery puppy-dog eyes. "I know, but that still feels like forever ago!" The pathetic expression morphed into one of excitement. She bounced on her heels and clasped her manicured hands tightly together. "But hey, get this! I just talked to Sugi and Akko. They already got to school and Akko brought me a birthday cake from Oshidai! Isn't that amazing?!"

Akko, one member of our close-knit friend group, was the daughter of a wealthy family who owned one of the oldest and most prestigious restaurants in the city. Oshidai was their bakery, and Yuuki absolutely obsessed over their pastries. No wonder she was so happy, getting a cake all her own. I shot her an enthusiastic thumbs up, then signed to ask if she'd spare me a slice—pretty please?

"Hmm," Yuuki said, hand on her chin as she pretended to think. Then she giggled and playfully shoved my shoulder. "Of course you can have some!"

I clapped my hands, excited, and then the train pulled up. We bundled inside with the other passengers, pressing close to salary workers and fellow students. Yuuki chatted happily over the roar of the train as it swayed along the tracks. We were only five stops away from the school, so luckily the jam-packed ride didn't last long. I listened to Yuuki regale me with stories of her winter trip to Spain and all the boys she met there with only half of a mindful ear, keeping watch on the other passengers when they got too close. Yuuki was teeny tiny and more than once had gotten crushed in the close press of inattentive bodies.

We reached our stop a little later, Yuuki still talking, and walked the rest of the way to school. A few of our classmates passed us on the sidewalk and approached us to chat. I brought out my hand-sized dry erase board and marker in order to make comments. I kept both the board and the marker on a keychain connected to my bag for easy access. I tend to punctuate my sentences with sketched faces and the like, which keeps people entertained during our somewhat painstaking conversations.

With Sugi and Akko and Yuuki, though, conversations are never awkward. When the four of us saw each other at the school gates, we converged like a quadruple lightning bolt, hugging and shrieking and talking like we'd been apart far longer than a few measly weeks.

"Are you even taller than last year?" Sugi asked. She was a tan-skinned girl with hair bleached pale chestnut brown and wide brown eyes, and everything she ever touched had to be in style or else. Perfectly curled hair, manicured nails, flawless skin; she was the beauty of the group considering her fashion tastes and killer figure. She was also almost as tall as I was, so I felt the height comment wasn't too justified. In response, I rolled my eyes and jiggled my hand between the top of her head and mine, indicating our similar heights.

"Hey, don't get snippy so soon," Akko said, hands on her hips in mock anger. The pale, black-haired girl was considerably shorter than both Sugi and myself, although she was still taller than Yuuki. "You gotta put up with us for the rest of the day."

I moved the height-comparing motion to encompass Akko and I, and then I rolled my eyes again. I can take you, short stuff, I wanted to say, and Akko understood completely.

"Oh nuh-uh, I can beat your ass six ways from Sunday!" Then she giggled, hiding her glossed lips behind one delicate hand. Akko was definitely lady-like as far as her classic Japanese looks went, but she was anything but a lady with her mouth.

"Round one," Yuuki intoned in a voice fashioned after a boxing announcer's. "In this corner, Akko the Acclaimed! And in this corner, it's Momo with the Mojo!"

I raised an eyebrow at her. Momo with the Mojo?

Yuuki looked sheepish. "Hey, it fits!"

Yuuki is definitely the group's theatrical one. She dresses flamboyantly with a cross between punky and trendy that only she can pull off. Black nails, hair striped with wild colors the teachers could never punish her enough to get rid of, lace and ribbons and chokers and cuffs...she always wore pigtails, like someone from the Lolita scene, and her wide caramel eyes, pale skin, and small body make her look a lot like an imported doll.

I, in contrast, am tall, slender, and if it weren't for Sugi I probably wouldn't dress too fashionably at all. My softball career makes me more concerned with staying in shape than keeping my hair up to date. I wear said hair (black) to about my breasts and like natural-looking makeup. I have little by way of curve and a lot by way of lean muscle, which suits me.

The four of us chattered as we made our way to homeroom. Yuuki was the only one who had done anything exciting over the break; she kept up a steady stream of chatter throughout the hallways, stopping only when the bell rang and we had to be quiet for class.

My school day will probably bore you to tears (I know it bored me, after all), so I won't tell you about it much. Basically, I went to my classes, ate lunch with my friends, and just generally survived. You know, high school stuff, and everybody (including me) had a bad case of Senioritis. We'd all taken our college entrance exams and were waiting for results, so even our teachers weren't keen on assigning us work. The day passed like a sedated snail, and then after school we all split up to go to our various club meetings. Yuuki went to sewing club, Sugi to photography, and Akko to business club. I, meanwhile, headed outside for the softball field.

I'm just as good at softball as any speaking person out there. I love it beyond all reason; it's one of the few hobbies besides cooking that makes me feel like I belong, you know? I can move and feel and do things that talking only seems to hinder. It's a release, a breath of fresh air, and one of my true, unadulterated passions.

Unfortunately, my days playing were just about over. My last season had ended the previous summer. Practice now was to get the underclasswomen in shape—to show them how to be leaders before my peers and I graduated and left them behind. I ran the girls through running and batting drills until the clock in the courtyard pealed, proclaiming it was time to let out for the day. Part of me was glad to leave, but another part wished these final practices would last forever. I only had so many left, after all…

I shrugged the negativity aside as I went to the locker room with the other girls. After a quick shower, I bid the coaches and my teammates goodbye before heading for the school gates. Yuuki, Sugi and Akko were already waiting for me in a tight knot.

When I waved and jogged over, Yuuki broke away from the others and skipped in my direction. "Momo!" she chirped when she caught me in yet another hug. "Did you have a good practice?"

I nodded and mimed swinging a bat, then shaded my eyes with my hand and peered into the distance before mock-cheering, fist thrust into the air.

"Oh, you hit a homerun!" Yuuki correctly surmised. She clapped her hands and shrieked with delight (it wasn't actually a big deal, yeah, but Yuuki perpetually functions at a level eleven on the one-to-ten scale of emotional expression; overreacting was right up her alley). "That's amazing, Momo!"

"Fuckin' rad, girl," Akko agreed. She slugged my shoulder and tossed her hair. "That's our Momo."

"For sure," said Sugi as she checked her hair and makeup in a pocket mirror. "Looks like we all survived our first day back."

"It was long, boring, and difficult," Yuuki said in a solemn voice, "but since it's our very last semester ever, the teachers have stopped bugging me to dye my hair solid black."

"I'd call that a victory," Akko said. "Wanna hit up a karaoke joint to celebrate?"

I pantomimed hitting and shaking a tambourine, using my dry erase board as a prop. I enjoy karaoke just as much as the next teenager; it's the social aspect that makes it fun, not the singing part.

"Hey—no fair. You always call the tambourine!" Sugi groaned. "I can't sing worth a damn!"

"Neither can Momo," Yuuki pointed out.

I clasped my hands around my throat, pretending to be confused when I moved my mouth and no sound came out. That got everyone laughing. (Yuuki's reference to my condition didn't bother me, by the way. My friends meant it out of love. We'd been in the same class since middle school. They knew where the joke line was, and none of them had ever crossed it.)

"Well, I'm down if you guys are," Sugi said, putting her mirror back in her bag. She glanced at my face and frowned. "Actually, I'm down only if Momo lets me put some makeup on her on the train. Did it wash off in the shower after softball practice?"

I nodded, because it probably had. Then I reached into my bag and pulled out my cell phone, offering it to each of my friends in turn with a pleading look on my face.

"I'll do it!" Yuuki chirped. She dialed my mother's cell with practiced ease. "Voicemail," she whispered to me, and then she said into the phone: "Hi, Miyamoto-san! It's Yuuki-chan! Well, as a way of celebrating our first day back at school, I, Sugi-chan, Akko-chan, and Momo-chan are all going to go to karaoke! Momo's cell is on and ready to go, and you can also reach the rest of us if you need to. Thanks so much! Momo hit a home run today, and she says she loves you and to have a great night. See ya later!"

She hung up with a smile and handed me the phone; I signed 'thank you' and returned the grin. Yuuki's jolly demeanor never failed to charm my mother—or most parents, for that matter. Even if for some reason Mom had a problem with me going out tonight, Yuuki's presence would most likely ease her worries. Yuuki had that effect on people—myself included. Guess that's why we've been friends for almost a decade. The world couldn't get me down when I had someone like Yuuki, or Akko, or Sugi, by my side.

"Well, that settles it," Akko said. She pointed dramatically outside the school gate. "To the karaoke booth!"

Sugi, predictably, was able to flaunt enough cleavage to get away with ordering alcohol despite us being underage, and Yuuki (also predictably) drank so much she couldn't stand. I kept her alive in the corner, force-feeding her water and salty chips so she'd get thirsty and drink even more water, but she did not sober up as Sugi and Akko danced around to music and made general, grinning fools of themselves.

I clapped my hands during a break in the music to get everyone's attention. My board had been prepped to say: "Yuuki can't make it home like this, and it's getting late. What should we do, guys?"

Normally I'd suggest Yuuki crash at my house, but the karaoke place was really far from the train station. I wasn't sure I could carry her there in time to make the last train of the evening (our suburb didn't get much traffic, so they stopped sending trains out there earlier than most of the other lines). Furthermore, she didn't have a change of clothes at my house, and I couldn't very well stop by her house and grab clothes that would fit her. She had super overprotective parents who would freak out if they knew she'd gotten drunk on a school night. They were under the impression she'd had an innocent sleepover at my place.

Sugi glanced at her watch, cheeks pink from the alcohol. "Gosh, it's after eleven! And we have school in the morning!"

"Tell ya what," Akko slurred, "Yuuki can stay at my place. My parents are gone until Sunday anyway, and she'll fit into my uniform no problem." She'd hit the alcohol pretty hard, too, though not as hard as the petite Yuuki.

"Yeah, and between the two of us we shouldn't have any trouble getting her to Akko's house," said Sugi. She and Akko lived only a few blocks apart from one another and rode the same train line, much like Yuuki and I did, and their houses were only a few blocks away from this karaoke joint.

I erased my board and scribbled: "Will you two be OK? You're both pretty drunk." I had stayed mostly sober; alcohol made my head ache.

Sugi waved her hands at me as she and Akko began putting on their shoes. Yuuki, at my side, groaned and giggled as she swatted my hair with one drunken hand.

"Eh, I'm good, I'm good," said Sugi. After she grabbed both her and Yuuki's bags, she tried hefting Yuuki to her feet. It took both our efforts to get the short girl standing, and she could only walk with Akko and Sugi supporting her on both sides. I escorted all of them out of the karaoke place, smiling at the clerk as we left, and stood across from their six-legged unit on the sidewalk.

I held my board up again; it bore the same message as last time.

"Relax, Momo," said Akko with a roll of her dark eyes. "We've got this. You're the one who needs to be careful, going home all alone."

I grinned and pantomimed swinging a baseball bat at an invisible assailant.

"Yeah, you do kick ass," said Yuuki, giggling. She flailed one foot and then groped Sugi's butt (the tall girl yelped). "Get it? Kick, ass!"

I patted her on the head, gave Sugi and Akko intense looks reading 'please be careful,' and turned in the opposite direction toward the train station. I waved over my shoulder as they called goodbye ("stay out of trouble!" Akko added) and with a breath of cool night air I started off down the street.

They'll be fine, I told myself.

The nightlife in this part of town wasn't lively, considering it was just Monday. However, the lights of the shop signs and the music streaming out of open doorways was pleasant, and I was so busy drinking it all in that I did not see the guy until I ran right into him. Our shoulders collided with a rustle of cloth and the smack of skin on skin. As I reeled back on the sidewalk I found myself looking into the eyes of a tall young man in a stocking cap. Four others stood behind him, wearing saggy jeans and cut-off shirts and looking generally...well, street-punk-ish, for lack of a better term. I bowed on reflex, trying to apologize.

"Ouch!" the guy I'd hit said in a voice both mocking, pained, and gleeful all at once. "That really hurt! I think I broke my arm!"

"You'll need money for a hospital bill," said one of the others.

A third guy came right up in my face, sneering through narrow eyes. "What's this, a school uniform?"

"Ooh, maybe the schoolgirl knows proper etiquette," said another. "Apologize to the guy you just attacked!"

Not knowing what else to do, I bowed from the waist. I then reached for my board, uncapped my pen, and started to write.

The guys were having none of that.

"What, too good to talk to us?" said the leader. He snatched the board away from me; all I had written was 'please, I am unable to.'

Oh damn, I thought with a rush of panic, this is so not good.

"Stuck up little bitch needs to be taught a lesson," said one of the guys. He reached for me, but by then I realized that I was in way over my head and needed to get out of there, and fast. Taking advantage of the leader's assumption that I was a meek little schoolgirl who wouldn't be able to sprint too well, I wheeled and pelted off down the street, back the way I had come. If I can just get to the karaoke place, I thought as the thugs yelled something about catching the stuck up bitch, I can hide in there, and—

My luck didn't like that plan at all. Despite my softball speed and long legs, I wasn't able to get away fast enough because—

"Oof!" said the second person I decided to run into that night. I bounced off of him (the voice sounded male, that was for sure) and hit the concrete on my butt. It hurt; air hissed between my teeth in a silent yelp.

The pound of feet heralded the arrival of the gangsters. "Hey, you!" one of them said, but when I turned to look I realized they weren't addressing me. That was when I took my first look at the second guy I'd collided with that night.

He seemed tall, although that could've been because I was sitting on the ground, and he had a slicked-back hairstyle so stereotypically punky that I, for a moment, I wondered if he was the criminal I should've been afraid of. He seemed to writhe beneath his skin, like his spirit was too big to be contained in the shell of his body. Brown eyes looked everywhere at once, skipping nothing as they roved across the bodies of my pursuers. They glared at this new guy in turn, sizing him up like a turkey on sale at the supermarket. Clearly they didn't think much of him. One of the thugs spat on the ground at the new guy's feet. The-guy-who-wasn't-my-thug narrowed his brown eyes at that, feet shifting wide upon the sidewalk.

"Scram, dude," the lead thug said.

"Who, me?" said the new guy. His voice held an air of surprise that did not match his wary eyes, stooped posture, and the hands shoved tensely into the pockets of his windbreaker.

"Yeah," said the leader. He obviously didn't think much of the new guy, whom I noticed was a few inches shorter than the thugs I'd pissed off. Uh oh. That wasn't good. "Now beat it before I decide to teach you and the girl both a lesson."

The young man looked down at me as if it was the first time we'd met, blinking in innocent confusion. "Does he mean you?"

I scowled. What, did he not notice me run into him? I thought. Trying to act tough or something? News flash, buddy, we're outnumbered so quit it with the jokes!

"Yeah, I mean her!" said Leader. He obviously did not like being ignored. "She needs to apologize to me!"

"Little bitch broke his arm!" said one of the punks.

My young man smirked, eyes narrowing into crescents that glittered with an intimidating light. "You must be pretty weak to get your arm broken by a girl."

My jaw dropped. Does he have a death wish?!

"Why you little punk!" said another hooligan. I couldn't see him since I was facing the new guy, but I could tell that he turned to Leader when he said: "Just forget the girl and go after this guy. He called you weak!"

"I think I like that plan," Leader growled. "You ready, ugly?"

The young man's jaw dropped, mirroring mine. "Ugly?" he repeated, and then his face darkened like a storm. "Oh hell no. Nobody calls me ugly!" He pounded one fist into the palm of his other hand. "Get ready for the beat-down of your life, bitches!"

Now would be an opportune time to run away since all the thugs were distracted, I thought, but as I readied myself to run past the slick-haired young man I heard a new voice say: "Don't move!"

I froze on reflex, but the young man who appeared in the shadows behind my unknowing savior didn't seem to be talking to me at all. Long red hair (surely that's a color treatment; he did a great job on his roots), brilliant green eyes, pale skin...definitely not Japanese, in my opinion. His eyes were huge, and pretty, with lashes like he'd stepped straight out of a cosmetics commercial. He wore pressed slacks and a crisp white shirt—subtly stylish, clothes riding his broad shoulders and narrow hips like they'd been specifically tailored for his body. My mouth went a little dry when I looked at him, to be completely honest. I hadn't seen a guy with skin so flawless outside of a magazine in my entire life. Even though he regarded everyone with a frown, the sheer level of handsomeness was almost overwhelming.

Seriously. How much money did this guy spend on skin cream? He barely had any pores that I could see.

The brown-eyed menace paused and turned to look at the newcomer. When he saw who it was he grinned. They obviously knew one another. "Kurama," he said, brown eyes glittering, "you're just in time for the show."

But Kurama shook his head. "We don't have time for this, Yusuke."

"Oh, c'mon, lighten up," said Yusuke. "It'll take me five minutes."

The redhead sighed, shoulders slumping, and that's when he saw me on the ground. Green eyes pressed into dark slits. "Is the girl a target of yours, too, Yusuke?" he asked, obviously unhappy with this development.

"No," said Leader. "She's ours."

"I see," said Kurama in a grave voice (he had a nice voice, I realized, silky and composed). He walked past Yusuke and offered me his hand. "Come with me while Yusuke takes care of these gentlemen," he said, expression polite and cool.

"Hey, don't touch her!" snapped Leader.

Kurama regarded the punks with little emotion. "Get past Yusuke," he said, "and you may have the pleasure of fighting me."

"That's a stupid bet, Kurama," Yusuke said, chuckling. "You already know I'm gonna mop the floor with these jerks."

The hooligans took offense.

"Five on one and you're this cocky?" said Leader. "Just you wait, pretty boy, I'll be after you and that bitch in no time!" Then he let out a yell I assumed was a battle-cry; Yusuke darted past me with a grin to rival the devil's.

That's when I took Kurama's hand. He pulled me to my feet and, guiding me by his grip on my fingers, tugged me at a quick jog down the street away from the brawl. I could hear Yusuke's voice above the sound of flesh on flesh, whooping with joy that made me think he could only be winning.

When we passed the karaoke place, still moving at a run, I dug my heels into the pavement. Kurama still managed to drag me along a good five feet before he stopped (guy was strong even if he had wiry muscle instead of actual bulk) .When he shot a peeved look over his shoulder at me, I pointed at the shop's doors. His eyes widened, then narrowed, and he nodded before jerking me into the building after him.

The clerk behind the desk was reading a magazine, and when he looked up to see me in his place of employment for the second time that day, he raised an eyebrow. I waved behind Kurama's back, unsure of what to do now that we were inside, but Kurama took charge immediately.

"Room for an hour, please," the redhead said. He pulled a billfold from the pocket of his jacket with the hand not holding mine with a cold, vice-like grip.

"Sure," said the clerk, watching as Kurama removed far too much money from his wallet and slammed it on the counter.

"Also, we'd like sake and whatever food you have," he continued. When the clerk handed him the keys to, ironically enough, the same room I had been in with Sugi, Akko, and Yuuki, Kurama pulled me down the hall without a backward glance.

We went into the room and Kurama slammed the door behind us, letting go of my hand only when he got the door shut and locked. I stood by the small table in the center of the room, unsure of what to do now that I was alone in a tight space with a boy who had both saved me from a beatdown and had kidnapped me all at once.

Luckily, however, Kurama turned to me and smiled. I read nothing but calm patience in his eyes, and my reservations began to fade.

"I'm sorry about that," he said, tone sincerely apologetic, "but on the off chance Yusuke does lose, I did not want to linger and become their next target."

I returned his smile with one of my own.

"I ordered food; you look shaky," he said, and then the page light above the door blinked on. His eyes flickered between the light and my face. "Speaking of which, give me a moment to fetch it."

Once he left, I put my bag down on the couch and sat. The room, for those who want to know, had a TV mounted on one wall and the karaoke box (plus various musical instruments, like my preferred tambourine) set beneath that. The other three walls (excepting the space just inside the door) had couches lining them, and in the center of the room sat a low coffee table for snacks and drinks.

This is going to be awkward, I thought. Alone with a guy I don't know whose friend is fighting for me outside...they're great guys, I guess, but ordering food for me? That's a little much, isn't it?

Kurama came back soon, loaded down with sushi and a bottle of sake and cups. He set all of it on the table before taking the couch opposite me. I was pleased he'd given me space; thoughtful of him. I was also pleased when served me a plate and handed it to me. Then he poured me a cup of sake.

"Drink that," he said. "You're pale, but it's alright now. Yusuke will take care of them."

I smiled and took the cup, tossing the liquid back with a grimace. It warmed me from head to toe even though I didn't particularly like alcohol. I chased the drink with a bite of salmon sushi, and as I chewed (Kurama, I noticed, ate nothing) my new friend regarded me through cool eyes.

"Now that you've had the chance to calm down a little," he said (I was never not calm, I thought, although it was nice of you to give me the time, I suppose), "would you mind telling me what you did to make those...men, mad?"

He'd clearly wanted to use a different word to describe them, but this guy was too polite to insult them outright. Suppressing a giggle, I reached for my bag on reflex, intending to take my dry erase board off of its customary keychain and use it to explain, but it wasn't there. I froze, confused, before remembering the punks knocking it out of my hand.

Oh, damn, I thought. This is going to get complicated.

"It's alright if you don't want to tell me," Kurama said, but I saw something besides sympathy—something dark, unyielding, calculating—brewing in the depths of his emerald eyes. The look scared me, made my hackles rise and my breathing hitch with unbidden, instinctive fear—wait, no, that was stupid. This was just a guy, even if he was a super pretty one. Clearly the alcohol and the altercation with the punks was getting to me. No need to get freaked.

I took a deep breath before taking another piece of sushi and shoving it into my mouth. Thinking while I chewed, I decided I had little choice but to resort to the most basic forms of human communication:

Pantomime.

I finished chewing and swallowed. Then I held up one finger and put it in front of me, making the universal 'stop and pay attention' sign with both that motion and the hard set of my eyes and lips. When Kurama looked perplexed, I pointed at myself. It took him a moment to get what I was doing, but when I pointed at myself a few more times he finally, in a very confused voice, said: "You?"

I nodded and pointed at my mouth.

"Mouth?" His look turned murderous. "Did they hit you?"

I grimaced because that wasn't quite what I meant, and so I pointed at my throat instead. As I did that I shook my head from side to side, and then I rolled my eyes and held up my hands in a gesture that said: "Hey, what can ya do, ya know?"

Recognition made his eyes light up, leaves backlit by sunlight. "You can't talk!" he said.

I dropped the pantomiming and nodded, grinning all the while.

"A mute?" he said.

Another nod.

"Deaf, too?"

A head shake and a point at my ear, followed by a thumbs up sign.

"Well, that explains a few things." He looked hesitantly bemused, smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. The expression made him look a little less airbrushed, a little less magazine-ready, and I felt myself relax. "Most people scream when they're...attacked."

I exhaled quickly through my nose. The noise sounds an awful lot like a muffled laugh or a derisive snort to those who don't know any better. It's my version of a giggle since I don't have any alternatives besides happy hyperventilation or silent shaking, and neither of those things are very flattering.

He seemed to understand my 'laugh' regardless, however, and he chuckled, too. "Speaking of which, what did you do to make them so mad?"

I can sigh like a normal person, but there's very little inflection to it since my vocal chords are so underdeveloped. The sound is basically a burst of air rushing past my teeth, but the general effect is the same. I reached with my right hand and shoved myself in the left shoulder, and then I mimed grabbing my arm in exaggerated pain.

Kurama slowly said, "...you punched him?"

I put my hand over my face and laughed for a moment, and then I stood up. I motioned for Kurama to come closer to me, and when he did (with a look of wariness I couldn't see any reason for) I walked past him and bumped his shoulder gently with my own. I spun on my heel and pointed at him before pounding one fist into my other palm.

"I see," he said, face contorted into a mockery of seriousness that may or may not have been a cover for irreverent laughter. He was taller than me, I noticed, by several inches, and when I'd run into him I'd felt nothing but firm muscle under his shirt. "Typical punk behavior, I suppose?"

I nodded and shrugged, sitting so I could grab more sushi. I gestured for him to do the same. He did.

"So... what's your name?" he asked, putting a strip of tuna on his plate.

I stared at him, mouth full. He doesn't understand sign language, I thought, so how can I...

His eyes flickered toward my schoolbag lying on the couch. "A pen and paper might not go amiss," he said, and I felt a blush creep into my cheeks.

Why the hell didn't I think of that? I wondered as I opened my bag and took out a notebook and pen. I shook my head to side from side, laughing a little at my own stupidity, and wrote my answer. "Momoko," I scribbled. "Call me Momo."

He scanned the board and smiled. "It's very nice to meet you, Momo," he said.

I very quickly made a chibi drawing of my new friend (notes on my chibis: the only reason they look like their models is because I ultra-exaggerate their hairstyles and clothing; I am in no way, shape, or form an artist). Above the small figure I drew a speech bubble. "Hi, my name is," I wrote in it, leaving space for him to fill in the blank. When I handed both the board and the pen to him, his eyes popped open in surprise. Then he laughed.

"I'm Kurama," he said, and for my benefit he filled in the bubble with hiragana despite his verbal acquiescence.

"Heard your friend say that, I realize," I wrote. "I'm really stupid tonight. Sorry!"

He stared at the paper before laughing. "Not stupid," he said in a smooth, reassuring voice, "only shaken. You have no need to worry on my account."

I smiled, grateful for his understanding, and just then the page light above the door went on for the second time. Kurama frowned and stood up. "Wait here," he said as he opened the door. I heard his friend—Yusuke, was it?—say something in the hallway before the door fell shut behind Kurama. I immediately hopped up, wanting to thank the guy who fought for me for...well, for fighting for me. But when I put my hand on the doorknob and started to twist it open, the things I heard them talking about gave me pause.

"...sign of him?" Kurama was asking.

Yusuke's voice answered: "He's nearby, but I can't pinpoint his location. I can feel 'im watching."

The redhead let out a heavy sigh, one that spoke of immense weariness. "So I suppose he's noticed Momo, then."

"Who?"

"The young woman you so gallantly defended."

"Oh. Well, I'd sure think so. If she's been cooped up with you in a tiny room for this long then she probably feels like you by now, you know?"

A low chuckle. "I know."

"So what do we do?"

What the hell are they talking about? I thought. I would 'feel' like Kurama? But that's absurd!

"She's become a liability," Kurama said, and my heart fluttered like a moth in a jar. Those words coming out of Kurama's mouth made it seem like I had witnessed a Yakuza killing, or something, and that I needed to be bumped off, and I had spent more than enough time with a gang today, thanks so much. However, I calmed down when he added something far less troubling: "I'll make sure she gets home safe."

"Good idea. I'll meet up with the others in the meantime." Yusuke chuckled. "She looks like a trouble magnet, no question."

"You have no idea." Kurama's voice dropped. "She can't speak, Yusuke."

Yusuke paused, probably too confused to formulate a reply.

"She's mute."

Yusuke let out a low breath. "So that's what that gang meant when they said she was too good to talk to them," he muttered. "Yeah, definitely a trouble magnet." He swore so colorfully it put my fast-talking friend Akko to shame. "This is the worst neighborhood she could possibly be in tonight, and we don't need any more distractions on this case! Let's get her out of here ASAP."

"I agree. But please meet her first. She probably wants to thank you, and I ordered sushi and there's no sense wasting it—"

"Food? Sweet, I'm starved!" Yusuke paused again. "Maybe just one more distraction, in that case."

I heard one of them move, a bare rustle of cloth and a single footstep, but that was all the warning I needed to sit back down and pretend I hadn't heard a single one of their confusing words. I stared down at my lap until the door opened, and when it did I looked up, smiled, and waved in a way that said "Oh my god, fancy seeing you here!"

"Yusuke," said Kurama, gesturing at me, "this is Momo-san. Momo-san, this is my friend Yusuke."

"Nice to meet you!" Yusuke said, eying the food on the table.

Kurama sighed. "Go ahead, Yusuke."

His eyes lit up like kerosene lanterns. "Don't mind if I do!"

"Thanks for saving me back there," I scribbled on my notepad. I had to rap my knuckles on the table to draw Yusuke's attention away from the sushi. He peered at the note and grinned.

"Hey, no problem," Yusuke said. "Oh, and I'm gonna be straight with you: Kurama told me you can't talk."

The aforementioned Kurama looked mortified; something about the expression made his perfect features lose their stunning edge, and for a moment he looked almost ordinary.

"So, yeah, I know already and now we can skip awkward explanations," Yusuke went on. When he saw Kurama glaring at him he said: "What? I already knew and I saved time by telling her I did!"

I knocked on the table; they looked at me, expectant. I grinned at them both and shot a thumbs up. Then I scribbled: "I prefer not to make a fuss over it."

"See!" said Yusuke, shoving food in his mouth. "No fuss!"

Kurama appeared to be having a difficult time accepting my nonchalance. Muscles stood out against the skin of his neck as he mopped a hand over his face, gave me a tired smile, and said: "I suppose you're right."

I just smirked and shrugged. No big deal.

Kurama glanced at his watch. "Well, Momo-san, the last train will be leaving in fifteen minutes. In the interest of not letting you get mixed up in another brawl—" (his eyes twinkled when he said that) "—would you allow me the courtesy of walking you to the station?"

I nodded and grabbed my bag, watching as Yusuke tried to stuff the last of the food into his face (he had turned out to be a pretty laid back and funny guy now that the threat of a gang fight was subtracted from the social equation). I stood awkwardly next to him until he looked up at me, and when he did I bowed. My hair swung forward, covering my face on all sides with its long black curtain, so I didn't see his face when he replied: "Hey, quit it! I probably would have beaten them up anyway!"

I straightened and laughed. Kurama chuckled before gently touching my shoulder and turning me away from Yusuke.

"Let's go," he said. "We have to hurry." Then, with a pointed look that said don't dawdle, he added: "See you later, Yusuke."

"Sure," Yusuke said around a huge bite of tuna. He waved a hand at us in dismissal. "Nice to meet you, Momo."

And with that we were gone, leaving Yusuke—alone but for some sake and sushi—sitting snug in the karaoke booth.

NOTES, January 2016:

Yay, edits! Did a lot of syntax cleaning and clarified the timeline. Momo just got back from winter break, she has one semester left of school, and softball has ended for the year. Japanese college exams usually take place in the spring, but I took some creative liberties and made it so she has already taken them.

Good lord, my writing style has changed a lot since I last worked on this fic. Feel like I won't actually enjoy the prose in this chapter (or any of the old chapters) until I rewrite the entire thing from scratch. As it stands, I just did some edits. Aaaarrrgh, imperfection!

Quick OC Summary: Sugi is fashionable and very cool. Akko has a foul mouth but was raised by a good family. Yuuki is enthusiastic and sweet and Momo's bestie. They're friends. They're fun. Aaaand…yeah.

So…that's about it. Many thanks to those who reviewed the reposted chapter! Aly Goode, Akara Suzuki, AkaMizu-Chan, jcampbellohten, Patricia Legend, Guest, and Strawberry Huggles!

NOTES, Spring 2010:

Well, this is a bit of a cliché meeting considering the whole girl-gets-rescued scenario, but I'm hoping that since Momo's true savior was someone other than her love interest... ah, well. Kurama and Momo see each other again quite soon, and not in a way that either of them expect. It's also incredibly awkward. YES!

The response on such a young fic has been staggering! Thanks so much, from the bottom of my heart, for your support: Naitza-Kururugi, StrawberryxXxKisses, mosinger, heve-chan, Foxgirl Ray, WickedLovelyDream, chocolateluvr13, Aicirret, strawberry9506, Wild-Cheesecake, Zetsubel, Jade Elf, Koryu Elric, and Panda-chan31!