"Look, all I'm saying is they are totally doing it!" Ryouta laughs, stretching out on the grass, hand behind his head.
"What evidence could you possibly have?" Ikuno groans, looking up from her school work.
I watch this little debate from the comfort of my normal spot leant against the gnarled oak, the sun has made a rare appearance, and though not especially warm, the smell of fresh-cut grass and the blooming of new life is too hard to resist on this boring Friday.
"Well, they are both in the newspaper club," Ryouta says, as if this explains everything.
"So?" I say, fiddling with my bandages.
"Well it means they are artsy types, and you know those types of girls are into experimenting, plus I hear they work late nights sometimes," He laughs excitedly. "I bet that printing press has seen some things."
"Just because two girls are with each other late at night doesn't mean they are in love. Me and Miki spend nights with each other all the time," Ikuno returns to her book, confident in her argument. Ryouta on the other hand sits up, a smirk on his face.
"And you've never thought, well since we're both here we might as well?"
"Ryouta, if Ikuno and I were sleeping together do you honestly think you would get a look in?" I say with a grin.
"Fine, fine you make a good point, no one could possibly look at you once they've had me."
"Has she had you?" I ask curiously.
"No!" Ikuno yells, making us jump. Reading between the lines, that was a yes, ha.
"Look Miki you are missing the point, those two in your class are totally batting for the other team, and I can prove it." Ryouta says triumphantly.
I raise my eyebrow at him. "Yeah?"
"You're single, right?"
Oh I see where this is going. Shame this spot is so comfortable, or I would have hit him.
"Okay," I say, smiling.
"You'll ask one of them out?" He sounds amazed.
"Sure, if you do a little thing for me." Ikuno is sitting bolt upright now, her homework abandoned. "I've always wondered if the track captain was inclined that way. Why don't you ask him out?"
His eyes grow to the size of saucers, turning quickly to Ikuno, who is giggling into her hands.
"I'm afraid I have a girlfriend so I can't, sorry Miki."
"I d… don't mind," Ikuno can barely speak as she breaks down laughing.
Ryouta just stutters, looking between us. I think we might have broken him, this is beautiful. A bell rings somewhere in the distance recalling us from lunch, has it really been an hour?
"Shoot, I need to get these budget reports to the council room," Ikuno says, giving me a dirty look. Heroes shouldn't resent their noble sacrifices, someone should tell her. "Can you tell Miss Mizushima where I am?"
"Sure," I say, getting to my feet to walk back to class with Ryouta, while Ikuno dashes off in the other direction. I suppose I should feel bad, but I'm sure I will end up paying her back sooner or later. Plus at least Hisao knows that there is more to Yamaku than presidents and pink drills.
— — —
Leaving Ryouta to head down to his classroom I stride into mine. At first glance the room seems empty, but on closer inspection Hanako sits at her desk, head in a book as always. The sound of her pages turning is the only thing intruding on the gentle breeze rustling the trees outside the open windows. I like spring.
Deciding I owe her a better apology than I was able to give last night in the medical building corridor I wander over to her, clearing my throat softly so as not to startle her. I don't want her throwing herself out of the window in fright - I'm already responsible for one death. No, we are not thinking about that.
"H…hello?" her timid voice brings me back to earth with a bump, her book is lowered, but she still holds her hand across the scarred side of her face.
"I'm sorry for startling you last night, in the medical building." I trail off a little lamely, perhaps this wasn't the best idea after all.
"It's… It's o… okay," she says, not meeting my gaze. It doesn't sound like it's okay, but she might just talk like this all the time.
"Do… Do you s… see Dr… Ueda as well?"
It's an interesting question. Of course she must know I do and is simply confirming out of politeness, but I haven't told anyone but Ikuno that I see the therapist, and even then I try and be as vague as possible. I honestly feel bad taking his time with my stupid problems when Hanako is clearly in need of real help.
"I do," I say softly, as Molly clunks into the room on her prosthetic legs, throwing us a curious look. "Look, I know you won't, but could you not tell anyone about where I was last night?" I ask urgently.
She nods quickly, as more students start to file into the room. "Thanks," I whisper, rushing back to my chair, inquisitive eyes on my back.
— — —
I stand by the door, waiting for Ikuno who is having a heated discussion with Shizune or Misha. I assume it's the latter, though. Hisao sits between them, apparently not sure if it's safe to move yet. Then again he seems to spend a lot of time with the council, some of it disturbingly by choice.
I'm snapped out of my daydreaming when I notice Ikuno waving me over. Oh this isn't going to end well. I consider running for it, but I would only get a hyperactive earful from Misha, via Shizune. With a resigned breath I make my way to their desk.
"I don't have time to do it, but Mikichan here will be more than happy to help," Ikuno says smoothly, throwing me a dazzling smile worthy of her boyfriend.
"Ikuchan and Mikichan! Wahahaha~!" Misha looks like she's about to burst with joy.
"Mikichan?" I glower at Ikuno, who giggles infuriatingly.
"I thought you might be jealous of my nickname," she says, feigning innocence.
Shizune slaps her hand on the desk with a sound like a gunshot. For someone who's deaf she's very loud. Misha, regaining at least some control of her unique style of laughter turns to her supervisor. Carer, mistress, what's the right word?
"Sorry! Shicchan says there are stalls that must be painted, but everyone in the student council is busy!"
Oh I should have ran when I had the chance.
"But it will be super fun because you get to paint them with Hicchan~!" I think she might have burst one of my eardrums, was she born with no volume control? Or did she lose it in some kind of tragic accident?
"Hisao has been roped into this as well?" I say, looking at him. With a thrill I see he's looking perkier than just a moment ago. Because he gets to work with me? He shrugs, getting unsteadily to his feet. I don't want a relationship with him, but it's nice to be appreciated.
"Kikichan! Hicchan is helping because he wants to do the best for his new class, you could learn from him not to be so lazy!"
I wonder if Shizune knows all her insults are said in the same tone you say happy birthday... I guess not. Throwing her a deep bow I retreat from the classroom, Hisao in silent tow, he's not so much a puppy, more like one of those old dogs that stumble after their owners half-heartedly.
Withdrawing my phone I scrawl a quick text message. "Kikichan knows where you sleep at night! Beware!"
A few moments later I get a reply from Ikuno.
[Ikuno: Sleep over tonight? Tell me about your date? 3 3 3]
I grin to myself, texting back a quick affirmation. Unlike my friends I can send a text message that contains just text. Realising I have no idea where I'm supposed to be going I turn to Hisao.
"So what are we supposed to be doing?" I ask, trying to sound sweet. The distraction still seems to be working, lucky me.
"Painting stalls, outside the fire escape I think." he says, following me as I make a sudden direction change.
"What fun, how come you're doing this, though?" I say, frowning a little at his deadpan tone.
Again he shrugs apathetically. "Didn't have anything better to do, other than go back to my room and read."
I push open the fire escape door that has been left wedged ajar. So fire safety is not high up on the student council priority list. That figures. A sudden image of Shizune commanding Misha into a burning room to save some unimportant paperwork flashes across my mind.
As I step outside, I am temporarily blinded by the sun's glare, but after I've blinked a few times, I get my first look at the scale of the problem. Three wooden stalls stand built but unpainted, each has a pot of what I hope is the desired colour and a brush. Well there goes my afternoon.
"Take your pick I guess," I say forlornly. I will give Ikuno this, her vengeance is swift and without mercy.
In relative silence we uncap the paint pots and start the laborious task. At least this is somewhat relaxing. I've always liked seemingly repetitive tasks like painting, laundry or cleaning for taking my mind off things.
Before long we have finished a stall each and are about to get to work on the third, Hisao has rolled up his sleeves, a bead of perspiration on his reddened face. It's not that hot is it? In fact, with the sun on its slow descent below the horizon and the birds mourning the end of the day in their song, the air has cooled significantly.
"You okay?" I ask, the first words spoken in well over two hours, while I struggle with a paint pot. Stupid hand, stupid people leaving stupid paint pots to get stupidly sealed with paint, gah!
"You need a hand?" he asks.
"Why do you have a spare?" I reply distractedly, not looking up, I refuse to be beaten by honeybee yellow.
There's an unnaturally long silence, I glance around quickly to make sure he's not evaporated, or melted or something. He's looking at me, his mouth slightly open and eyes wide. Oh, I've been there before, it's kinda cute really.
"It's okay, I know what you meant." I smile, trying to reassure him.
"I'm sorry, really sorry," he says mournfully, looking unsure what to do with himself.
"I said don't worry." I frown. Come on distraction, you were doing so well!
"An extra hand would be helpful with this though," I say, giving up.
"Oh, sure," he says, brightening up a little. With three hands we manage to pry the lid off the can, and set about painting opposite ends of the wooden facade. I've missed my afternoon run by the looks of it, unless I go in my school uniform. Tempting, but the short skirt puts me off, you never know who's watching.
"So, you a country kid?" I ask. Might as well make conversation.
"No, I grew up in the city." Looking up at the sky he seems to contemplate something, before continuing. "It's hard to sleep here, it's too quiet."
"I know what you mean," I say nodding. "I used to be able to hear the night trains from my window. It felt really strange not hearing them here, but you get used to it."
"I don't know if I'm ever going to fit in here," he admits, focussing on his brush strokes.
"You'll adapt, just treat people like they're people, can't go wrong there."
With a nod he continues painting, I don't know how to describe him. It's like he's lost something, something important that he's given up trying to find. I can't even truly say what's wrong with him, the diagnoses game has rather lost its appeal since he was a nameless face in a classroom, now he means something. Can I even help him? I can barely help myself.
"Are you going to the festival?" I ask, trying to sound innocent. I'm not asking him on a date, but people read too much into things.
"I might," he says, followed by another infuriating shrug. "Might just catch up with some reading."
"You can read anytime," I tease. Cripple petting zoo comes but once a year.
"Well, I don't have anyone to go with, I could ask Shizune and Misha I guess."
"Or you could go with me?" I say, looking right at him. I have no clue why I just did that, but letting him go with the council feels like a grave mistake.
"Oh, yeah sure," he says, for a moment a smile flickers across his face. Well, that's an improvement at least. With our plans mostly settled we finish painting the stall in silence, the light beginning to die as we finish the last brush stroke. At least this should keep Shizune off my back.
After retrieving our schoolbags, his new and stiff, mine old and worn, we head to the dorms. The street lights that illuminate the paths around Yamaku flicker to life, throwing orange light in wide interspersed circles along our route. Outside his building we bid each other goodnight formally, I watch him retreat inside, he looks tired, but somehow more alive than I've seen him.
With a resigned sigh I head for my own room. Ikuno will be asking questions into the small hours, determined to pull me out of my Ayumu spiral and set my sights on Hisao, would that be such a bad thing? No one will compare to Ayumu, and I'm betraying him to even think that.
Not that I even deserve love after what I've done. For the last twenty or so hours I've tried very hard not to think too much about my lie. I had to tell it, I can't go to prison.
The fact remains though that I'm responsible for taking a life, It's not something I'm going to be able to come to terms with, I just have to live as this tainted mess; I should be alone.
Climbing the stairs to my room I try to think about something, anything else. I don't feel guilty - or at least I don't feel as guilty as I should. I killed somebody for fuck sake. Justifying my actions to myself has become like a force field, shielding me from my crime, but I am just fooling myself. The time will come when I have to take responsibility.