Chapter Ten

The weekend went too fast in Hanamura's opinion. One moment she was enjoying her Friday evening, the next, she was desperately cramming homework late Sunday night. Her desk was cluttered with snake plants and succulents and kernels of potting soil. The strands-of-pearl hanging in the corner of the room cast eerie shadows over her textbook.

Leaning back, she rubbed her eyes.

You're not getting enough rest, she could hear her mother saying. You need to slow down.

"In death, I shall rest," she sighed, thinking of the student motto that drifted in the corridors as their midterms steadily drew nearer.

Rumi flipped over in her bunk bed, draping an arm over her face. "That's the spirit, Suzume," she mumbled half-asleep. "Morte Vacabimus."

Hanamura grinned but it was short-lived. Her math was well underway, but she still had her geography and language assignments waiting underneath the purple orchid. In addition to all that, Mrs. Osakabe had been exceedingly generous in assigning them two history chapters to read by Monday.

You can expect a pop quiz on the Heian period and the royal court of Murasaki, said Mrs. Osakabe, so don't even think about skimming through your textbook. I'll be looking to see who paid attention.

Her homeroom teacher was the only person who could make school feel like a prison sentence.

I think she used to be a jailer, Hanamura told her sister over the phone earlier that day, one wrong toe out of place, and she'll send you to the isolation chamber.

She sounds scary, Mei agreed. I wonder why she's so mean? None of our teachers are like that here.

Hanamura sighed. That was because their teachers back home were considered family. It was common for them to be invited to celebrations or festivals or trips to the shrine deep in the woods. Hanamura and her sister grew up with instructors who were more doting grandparents than anything else. Always handling their students with care.

Last spring, Mrs. Yamauchi had placed a soft hand on her back, asking, have you ever thought of becoming an artist? You have such an interesting outlook on the world, Suzume. It would be wonderful to see it through your eyes. There's a school in Sendai that offers a scholarship. I spoke to your parents about it at the parent-teacher conference last week. Would you be interested in applying this fall?

Hanamura felt a stab of homesickness. It was no longer easy to talk to her sister.

I have to go, Mei. Let's chat soon.

Okay, Suzu. Hang in there.

You too, she said glum. There was no mention of missing each other. It was already implied in the tenuous connection between their phones, as delicate as spider's silk.

Hanamura got up from her desk. She needed a break.

She grabbed her shower caddy and the bathrobe her mother had bought right before the start of school. It was the same color as the persimmons that grew in their yard each year. Searching for her slippers, she flicked her reading lamp off so that Rumi could sleep in peace.

Bright fluorescents awaited her out in the hall and it took her a moment to adjust her eyes. Dorm life was a lot like living in a hotel. Only the carpet was gray instead of spiraling designs, and the building smelled like pine instead of chlorine.

As she waited in line for the showers that evening, she contemplated her time at Shiratorizawa with growing unease. School should have become easier after the first month, or at least, she should have adapted to the rigorous pace by now. Everyone else was managing their coursework just fine. Asano and Izakaya never complained. Their attention was always on other things – murder, kittens, the new donut shop that was scheduled to open near campus later that fall. Asano was never bothered by Mrs. Osakabe either which made Hanamura wonder if she was the only one struggling. She would never know, she was too afraid to ask.

It was odd, but Hanamura had the distinct impression that complaining about school, in general, was a cardinal sin at the academy. She was afraid that if she were to voice her concerns aloud, her friends would take one look at her and say, well, maybe you should go back home then. The principal implied as much in her admissions interview.

Shiratorizawa was not for the weak. She would simply have to work harder.

I'll stay up late every night if I have to, she decided, and get up earlier in the mornings too.

She buried her face into her bathrobe. Melancholy began to fill her stomach, and she quickly switched her mind to lighter, happier things.

We're friends, aren't we?

Her sadness was replaced by immediate warmth.

They were friends. Tendou called her by her first name. He liked her drawings.

Her mind filled with the rush of being lifted into the air only to be caught by strong arms. At that moment, she was no longer sixteen but a child again, and Tendou was the blazing sun inside her orbit. The welt on her forehead had turned into a dark bruise and she pressed on it, wondering if it would blossom into a third eye. The force of his laughter had sunk all the way down into her bones, dispelling the fear and anxiety that lived there.

It was surreal to have the veil of polite distance lifted. She could walk right up to him now and he would speak to her as he spoke to all his friends. She thought of the day in the park, how refreshing the peppermints tasted as they sat in the shade. His eyes were closed, his face smooth as marble.

She found him fascinating.

As long as Hanamura could remember, she always had a vivid imagination, and as a consequence, developed an eye that saw things not for what they were but what they could be. Through her gaze, a trash bag transformed into a kite. The treads of her sneakers became grids to micro-cities. The equations in her math book were the lost secrets of a world suspended in another dimension. There was always an allure to things – a mystery begging to be solved.

The more she looked at Tendou, the more she wondered at the grim shadow rippling just below the surface of his smile, the end of his spectrum where light fractured into the void. He was formless at times, whispery like smoke. She could catch him between her fingers for maybe a second, but then he'd change his mood like a cat swishes its tail, and she found herself clutching at nothing.

He was an enigma.

Hanamura wondered if she would ever understand him. Her drawings may have captured a glimpse but it only served to stoke her curiosity.

She wanted to know more.

"The shower's all yours," said a third-year girl as she stepped out in a curtain of steam, hair bundled in a pink turban.

Hanamura dropped the hand from her forehead and smiled. "Thanks."

As she made her way through the washroom, she noticed a few girls still lingering near the showers dressed in pastel-colored pajamas.

"It's his birthday this week," a girl with a dark braid was saying to a second year. "I overheard him discussing it at the park."

"Ooooooo, Isami!" Another girl whistled low, her face impish. "Are you going to surprise him?"

Isami was sitting on the wooden bench, waiting dutifully as her hair was braided into a fishtail.

"W-what? No!" She shook her head, mortified. "I can b-barely speak to him!"

"That's not what I saw," said the older girl. "He couldn't ignore you after your high toss."

Hanamura walked passed them with a nod, but they were far too engrossed in Isami's current predicament to pay her much attention. Nonplussed, Hanamura hung her bathrobe next to the vacant shower. The smell of gardenia permeated the air as she tugged the plastic curtain aside.

"Kazane, please," said Isami exasperatedly. "I n-need more time!"

The older girl crossed her arms with a sharp sigh.

"A little advice," she said in a tone reminiscent of a coach. "If you keep letting fear dictate how and when you act, then you're going to let important opportunities pass you by. When you told me you wanted to join the cheer squad, you were nervous and shaky, sure, but you did it! Now look at you – you're a flyer! You survived the Sports Benefit, and soon you'll be traveling with us to all the games this season. You have it in you to be strong."

Hanamura couldn't help but eavesdrop on their conversation, feeling herself identifying with Isami.

"That's easy for you t-to say," said the younger girl, chastened. "Y-you don't s-stutter or turn purple!"

Kazane offered her a wry grin. She cocked a foot against the wall, looking especially cool.

"Yeah? Wanna bet? What if I told you the first time I ever confessed to someone, I puked all over his shoes?"

The other girl, the one who had been braiding Isami's hair, burst into wild laughter.

"Is that true, Captain?"

"What do you think, Makoto?" Kazane fixed her with a bright gleam. "My strawberry strudel went all over his laces. Fat pink globs everywhere! He had to hose off by the baseball field."

"Gross," said Makoto, wrinkling her nose.

Isami blanched.

The cheer captain shrugged her shoulders, grinning. "I had to start somewhere. Fortunately, he was a good sport about it. We ended up dating for the two weeks right before he transferred to a school in Tokyo. His mom was hired as a reporter for a media company. That's how I first learned about journalism."

"Seriously?" Makoto looked unimpressed. "So it all began with a regurgitated pastry? You, the cheer squad, Student Government Council, the school newspaper – all because you ralphed on some guy's high tops?"

"They were oxfords," she corrected Makoto, "but yes. I discovered my grit that day."

The other girl glazed over with mirth. When she spoke again, her voice was drenched with humor. "You know what they say: no guts, no glory."

Isami cupped her brow with a sigh. "You're t-terrible, Makoto."

There was a small pause as Hanamura turned on the shower. Water poured from the nozzle, hissing like rice spilling from a burlap sack. She adjusted the pressure so that it became a lazy waterfall.

"My point is…you have to be brave, Isami," said Kazane in an equally soft tone. "Life is full of unexpected twists and turns. Sometimes you just have to jump in and see where the tide takes you."

Hanamura leaned against the stall, letting the water cascade down her shoulders as she thought on the cheer captain's advice. She was grateful for this moment. She didn't realize how badly she needed words of encouragement until now.

"I know, I know," said Isami at last, sighing deeply. "I'm over-thinking things again."

"Hey, just see how you feel later this week," suggested Makoto affectionately. "It's still early in the year and there'll be tons of opportunities during the tournament season. Just wait until Tendou sees you do the scorpion jump!"

"Dear God," Isami uttered. "I f-forgot about that."

"Your training starts tomorrow, my little ingénue," said Kazane. "Now come on, time for bed."

Hanamura froze, her ears ringing loudly. The soap from her hair sluiced down her arms and legs, white foam disappearing down into the drain.

Tendou's birthday was this week? Why hadn't he mentioned it on Saturday?

More importantly – did Isami fancy him?

Hanamura gripped her washcloth, her mind traveling in several different directions at once. One thing was absolutely certain – she needed to figure out which day and how to surprise him.

She wasn't competitive. Just considerate.

They were friends after all.

. . . . . . . . . .

Tendou trudged in the heat with a salty lip, the collar of his dress shirt already ringed with sweat. His classmates were not much better off as they all made the slow trek across campus to discover that their garden beds had exploded with tulips.

"Look!" He said, pointing to his corner of the garden patch. "Mine are purple tigers!"

The class gathered around to see what he meant by that curious declaration and saw that his tulips had indeed sprouted with white and purple stripes.

"How exquisite! These are quite similar to the fabled Semper Augustus," said Ms. Oshiro in a misty voice as she bent over the blooms. The circumference of her hair blocked out the sun, casting the tulips in dark shadow. "During the height of tulip mania, yours would have been worth three times the annual salary of a skilled craftsman. Can you imagine? You could afford a mansion and servants for the price of a single bulb!"

"Did you hear that? I'm rich!" Tendou slung an arm around Ushijima's shoulders, ecstatic.

"In 17th century Netherlands, yes," amended Ms. Oshiro. "Those particular tulips no longer exist. But the science behind their genetic makeup is fascinating. Did you know? It's a virus that causes the striations in the petal coloring. The recessive gene is allowed to bleed through what should otherwise be a solid-colored petal. I look forward to reading your report, Satori. Out of the entire class, you have the most compelling story to tell."

Tendou wilted like a flower in a storm, realizing that his luck had backfired into a curse.

"But…it's my birthday this week," he said, dragging his feet dejectedly. "All this writing is really starting to cramp my style, Wakatoshi. I should have picked Home Economics with Reon. Do you know what his homework is for the week? Baking a soufflé!"

"You have two weeks until the report is due," said Ushijima as they made their way back to the school.

"Yeah, but we've got our scrimmage games," Tendou listed, raising two fingers, "then midterms and finals," he raised two more, "then the Interhigh with boot camp immediately afterward," he tossed his hands in the air. "Tanji always gets that depraved look in his eyes around this time too. You would have thought Taichi insulted his mother the way he went after his blocking yesterday. It won't be long before he starts dragging us out of bed for extra practice too."

His eyes hurt just thinking about it.

"You stay up too late," Ushijima said simply. "If you saved Crimson Warrior for the break, you'd have more time for homework and practice."

"And give up the only other thing that gives me pleasure? Absolutely not," said Tendou.

The ace had a strange look on his face, almost as if he anticipated his quickfire retort.

It wasn't until they returned to the classroom that Ushijima said, "then you're in for a treat this week."

Tendou frowned, unaware the Great Ace was capable of keeping secrets.

He was left in suspense for two whole days, which for Tendou, was the equivalent of being deprived of oxygen. He was clever enough to know it had something to do with his birthday. The members of his team were all behaving knavishly, and no amount of manipulation could get any of them to talk. Desperate, Tendou cornered Yunohama in the equipment room late one night, doing his best impersonation of the Grim Reaper, but the first year simply passed out from fear.

"Wakatoshi, please," he begged the following day, "put me out of my misery! I can't take this anymore!"

Ushijima was as steadfast as an iron fortress.

"A disciplined mind leads to happiness, whereas an undisciplined mind leads to suffering."

"Don't quote the Dalai Lama at me! Can't you see the terrible state I'm in?" Tendou argued.

It was no use. He was forced to wait until his birthday arrived, but by then, he was reduced to a jumpier version of himself. He kept glancing over his shoulder all morning, waiting for the others to swoop in and attack. When a junior golfer made his way down the hall with balloons, Tendou karate-chopped them on reflex. Only when he saw the golf balls attached at the end did he realize they were meant for someone else.

"Oops, my bad," he tried apologizing, but the golfer tore off down the hall in terror.

As he made his way through the lunchroom later that day, the team finally surprised him with a tower of pudding cups. Their table was decorated with party decor designed for a five-year-old boy complete with a Pokémon tablecloth, a transformer cake topper, and several party hats bearing the likeness of his beloved characters. Tendou took in the silver tinsel and makeshift cake with a broad grin.

"Guys, you shouldn't have!" He said, clasping hands to his cheek.

Everyone else in the cafeteria looked on with perturbed interest, but their table was paradise in his opinion. The team sang happy birthday in their best rendition of a tone-deaf mariachi band, Ushijima mouthing along in his deep baritone. It was almost too much to handle. Even the kitchen staff paused to witness this strange performance which lasted two full minutes. After the yearbook photographer got her snapshot, Tendou rolled up his sleeves, spooning his fourth custard as he unwrapped presents.

It was an excellent haul. Reon had given him a pair of new earbuds to wear during their afternoon runs, Semi had bought him a blue hoodie with the word "guess" stitched emphatically in white and crimson thread, and Jin had surprised him with a gift card to Swan Mart. But the best part was when Ushijima presented him with the latest installment of his favorite manga series, Crimson Warrior.

No wonder he had looked so uncharacteristically sly.

"Happy Birthday," said Ushijima.

Tendou was moved. The display of affection was overwhelming, and he took special care not to let it show how deeply it meant to him. Until last year, he had never celebrated it with others at school, too afraid it would draw the wrong kind of attention. It was an old wound that still tormented him.

As he held the comic book, Tendou fell silent.

They were all looking at him expectantly.

He took a breath, and in the time it took to spill his lungs, he was once more Satori Tendou – wily, confident, and completely in control again.

"You're going to carry me to practice this afternoon, right?" He asked the first years.

They were all silent, glancing at something past his head. Recognition filtered across their faces, and not the respectful kind reserved for teachers or the sarcastic kind reserved for fellow classmates. No, this was peppered with surprise and a dose of wonderment.

Tendou turned, spoon still dancing in his mouth.

"Hullo," said Hanamura.

Tendou choked. The spoon toppled from his mouth to the floor with a loud clatter, and he glanced wildly around the lunchroom. "Suzume! Wha–erm…Shouldn't you be in class? Your break doesn't start for another half hour, right?"

He sensed several potent stares land on his neck and was suddenly hot under the collar.

Hanamura grinned.

"I'm on an errand for the librarian, and besides," she said, hoisting the bounty in her arms, "this was the best time to catch you."

She presented him with a rolled canvas tied with string as well as a small gift bag.

Tendou took the presents gingerly. "How did you know it was my birthday?"

Hanamura averted her gaze.

"Oh…uh…Akiko," she said vaguely. "Yeah, she…she mentioned it in passing when she came by the studio earlier this week – not that we were discussing you specifically or anything! We talked about the picnic and the book she wanted to give Reiko…it just…erm…sort of came up."

Tendou narrowed his eyes. Akiko told her? He supposed the class representative would be privy to everyone's birthdays as she handled their paperwork throughout the year, but somehow that didn't seem right. Hanamura looked suspicious.

"Well? Aren't you going to open them?" She asked, misinterpreting his hesitation. Wisps of dark hair framed her face, and he was surprised to see she was still wearing her blazer despite the intense summer heat. It would explain why her face was so red.

Tendou opened the gift bag, revealing a handsome ceramic mug. One of Izakaya's creations, he guessed. It was larger than the typical mug, marbled in black and white clay with hints of red. It fit his hand nicely even though it was quite uneven. Inside was a small felted creation from Asano, a keychain pendant. He took one look at the ivory felt, the bunny ears, and realized it was a miniature Argus.

A smile spread across his face.

Apparently, he had fostered a new kinship with the art club freshmen. The kind one might expect to foster between a wizard, a fox, and a scavenger bird.

He was touched.

Lastly, the canvas. Tendou glanced at Hanamura who nodded, and he yanked the string free. Together, they spread it out on the cafeteria floor exactly as she did in the studio. Even in this, she was strange, he thought. It was a certain kind of artist who preferred working on the floor instead of a proper easel. His teammates shuffled at the table for a better view, recalling the last time she had revealed her work.

The painting unfurled, revealing a cascade of color that fanned out into a deep river delta. Sapphire bled into gold that bled into silver that bled into deepest midnight. It was like watching cream splash inside a coffee cup. The metallic paints caught the light, making the whole thing shimmer lavishly against the tiles. Tendou experienced it all at once – the overflow of joy. The moment where his body ceased to contain itself and his soul poured into the gymnasium lights.

"You used the cartons," he said, breaking the hush that had settled around him, "the ones from the trash!"

Hanamura crouched down beside him, her knees popping with excitement.

"It looks like the icing they pour on cakes, doesn't it?"

"Like moon milk!" He agreed, trailing his gaze over the surface. "I want to drink it."

She laughed and the sound of it was sugar sweet.

"Thank you," he said.

They were attracting stares in the cafeteria now. Their assessment over a strange marine map on the floor was enough to cause several tables to fall silent. Hanamura stood, her gaze warmed over as if she had just returned a lost pet to its owner. She was glowing.

"Well, I should head back," she said, withdrawing slowly. "Reiko and Takashi send their regards."

She waved to Ushijima who was busy plating several more puddings for the table.

"Yeah," said Tendou. "Thanks again."

Her dimple flashed before she headed back to the library.

The hush followed her out of the lunchroom, and as she disappeared, the general noise resumed. When Tendou at last turned around, he was faced with what could only be described as a panel of bloodthirsty sharks.

"Well," said Jin.

"Well well well," elaborated Semi.

"Well well well well," said Yamagata, singing.

"A favorite of the art club now, are we?" Their captain chimed in, raising his brows.

Tendou kept his expression neutral as he rolled up the painting.

"Jealous?"

"She's the girl everyone keeps talking about," said Semi, "the scavenger."

"The one who drew those scary-ass pictures of you!" Kawanishi pointed out most unhelpfully.

Tendou made a face.

"Now that's a fortuitous match. Our Guess Monster with the mysterious Magpie Girl." Reon placed a hand on his shoulder, flashing him a thumbs up. It made Tendou feel as if he were a son being congratulated by his father. "I'd say you have a chance with that one."

Tendou waved him off. "It's not like that. We're just friends."

"Right, and we're just a bunch of acquaintances," said Shirabu.

"You are. I barely know you, Subaru."

The setter crinkled his non-dairy pudding cup, nostrils flaring.

"Invite her," said Ushijima, startling everyone. "If she's a friend, invite her out with us."

Tendou froze, finding this devious side of the Great Ace most alarming. He wasn't the only one. Everyone at the table looked to Ushijima with mild incredulity. Since when was it canon for their star player to suggest such a thing? Inviting a freshman out with them was one thing, but a girl?

The very idea was preposterous. No, forbidden due to the constant shadow cast by Coach Washijo. But it was this sudden act of defiance that caused a ripple of amusement among the team. They were all staring at Tendou with dangerous looks.

"You heard the man," said Yamagata, "go after her!"

"You guys–"

"Go on! Git! Away with you!"

"Get out of here!"

"No more pudding. Go!"

Tendou had no choice. They were egging him on unmercifully, giving him no grounds to refuse. Pulling away from their table, he rubbed the back of his neck.

The halls were quiet outside the cafeteria, and as he strolled passed the classrooms still in session, he debated whether this was a good idea or not. Hanamura had come from the library on the second floor. He moved past the vending machines, past the restrooms, past the lobby to the stairwell leading up to the second story.

He caught her on the stairs.

"Suzume, wait!"

Jumping in surprise, Hanamura turned.

"The guys and I – we were planning on going out later after school, erm…" His courage unexpectedly failed him, and he lost his train of thought. There was a pang of uncertainty, and for a moment he regretted letting the team goad him into doing this. This was vastly outside his norm. Scratching his temple, he realized he was still wearing the party hat and quickly ripped it off.

Hanamura descended the stairs, her face leveling with his.

"What'd you have in mind?" She asked, reaching out to fix his fallen shirt sleeve. She folded the cuff, rolling the fabric until it came to rest at his elbow. The act of it was strangely intimate, and for a moment, shivers crawled up his arm.

"Dinner and games at the arcade," he said in a rush of air. "Do you wanna come?"

Her body moved slightly toward his.

"Yes."

Tendou was already nodding as if receiving a rejection, but the word registered sharply in his mind.

"Wait. Really?"

"Yes. I love dinner and games."

"You do?"

"Yeah."

"That's great!"

"I know!"

"Awesome."

"What time?"

"Huh?"

"What time should I meet you?"

"Oh! Uh," Tendou ran fingers through his hair, searching for words. It was suddenly hard to function. "How about after club this afternoon. By the school entrance?"

"Okay!" Hanamura beamed. "See you then!"

She whipped around, jogging up the stairwell with a quick wave before disappearing around the corner. Tendou exhaled deeply, his shoulders sagging so much that his arms hung like dead weight at his sides. Gathering his composure, he rose to his full height, clenching hands into fists. There were moments on the court when he would stand in a similar fashion, relishing the victory of a well-timed block.

Everything paled in comparison to this most recent success.

. . . . . . . . .

Hanamura's pulse was racing. It had been incredibly bold of her to do that – walk up to the volleyball team and present Tendou with her gifts. She told herself technically she wasn't doing it alone. Asano and Izakaya were in on the surprise as well, but the task had fallen to her to carry out and it was more daunting than her recent meeting with Coach Washijo.

She had stood by the cafeteria entrance for what felt like an eternity, watching the team chat over dessert. Tendou sat with his back to her, his collar popped and hand languidly twirling a spoon. On his own, he was easier to approach, but among his friends, Hanamura found him slightly more intimidating. It was like the day in the gym all over again. He exuded an aura of complete confidence, the ringmaster of his troupe.

This was a dumb idea. You should turn back now, said a negative voice inside her head.

Hanamura wavered with increasing anxiety. Was she presuming too much? Their day at the park had ended well, and everyone left on a high note. No numbers were exchanged, but then again, they were all too focused on catching the bus back to school as the park began to clear out. It hadn't escaped her notice that Tendou was bold enough to be on a first-name basis with everyone, not just her. Was she reading more into his comment than what was actually there?

Yes, said the voice automatically. Most definitely.

Hanamura searched her feelings. This dilemma always presented itself whenever she attempted to make friends. A debilitating fear would take hold of her, causing her to freeze.

And for good reason, said the voice. These people are scary!

That wasn't true. Hanamura may be intimidated, but that didn't mean the students at Shiratorizawa were any less different than the students back home. Asano and Izakaya liked her just fine. She was just unused to meeting so many new faces at once. Why not be brave and take a chance? Besides, Tendou himself had claimed that they were friends. It was therefore perfectly acceptable to wish him a happy birthday – even if it was done in front of his whole team. In the cafeteria. In front of everyone else.

Hanamura chewed her lip.

Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you, said the voice disapprovingly.

She took a breath and stepped into the lunchroom.

Moments later, she was feverish, but it was well worth it to watch the happiness ignite in Tendou's face as he unrolled her painting. A warmth spread from her chest down to her fingertips, and for a moment she forgot about everyone else in the cafeteria. It was just his smile and her excitement.

Sometimes you just have to jump in and see where the tide takes you.

Hanamura was grateful for the cheer captain's advice, however indirect it was given. With a bit of courage, she had accomplished her task and it no longer mattered whether her knees were going to buckle or not. She traveled the school in a daze, hoping to gather herself before returning to the library.

But then, there was Tendou. He was running straight toward her. One of his shirtsleeves had come loose and he had a look of intense determination on his face. Hanamura had the irrational urge to hide.

"Do you wanna come?" He asked, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant.

"Yes." The word tumbled out of her mouth without a thought. She wasn't sure if she even considered the request before giving her answer. Had she made any other plans that evening? What about her homework assignments? Wasn't she supposed to call her sister, Mei?

But Tendou was looking at her with those wide eyes of his and she was still tingly from giving him the painting. Hanamura was drawn to him. Dropping down two stairs, she found herself, for once, eye-level with the tall athlete. There was something superb in the way they were both dangling by a thread. Tendou was a red demon, a firecracker that dazzled and sparked on a whim. He was strong enough to pick her up and toss her into the air, and yet it was this side of him, the softer, more vulnerable boy that she found most captivating.

They had agreed on when they would meet. Hanamura floated through the rest of her afternoon in a stupor. When she and Asano returned to her dorm room after club, she broke the news.

"You're going out with them?" Asano asked, her face relaxing with awe. "You're the most fearless woman I know, Suzume Hanamura. Are you sure you'll be okay on your own?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's the boys' volleyball team! They'll eat you alive if you're not careful."

"Then come with me," said Hanamura. "We can team up."

"No thank you," Asano raised her hands. "I draw the line at tastefully felted birthday presents. Besides, what are we going to talk about? I don't have a single athletic bone in my body, nor do I make a habit of talking to boys."

"You talk to Takashi."

"He doesn't count. He's not sculpted like a god – more like a sprite."

"What about Tendou and Ushijima? You talk to them just fine."

Asano acquired a stealthy look. It made her especially foxlike.

"Oh, well…that's because I'm meddling in my sister's affairs," she said, perusing Rumi's bizarre collection of houseplants and stopping at the giant, alien life-form sitting near the window. "Is that–?"

"A Venus flytrap," Hanamura nodded. "Ms. Oshiro gave it to her as a gift. Rumi catches flies after school to feed it."

"I thought she was in the marching band," said Asano as she approached the many-mouthed plant curiously. Hanamura pointed at the flute stuffed into the recesses of their closet atop a stack of sheet music. "She still plays on occasion, but she decided to join the science club instead."

"Oh."

They admired the flytrap a moment longer before Asano resumed their earlier conversation.

"Honestly, ever since you brought Tendou to the studio, you two have become awfully close." She pinned Hanamura with a piercing look. "It hasn't escaped my notice that it was you who suggested we draw the volleyball team, or that it was your idea to surprise him with birthday presents. I'm beginning to think you have a secret agenda."

Hanamura flushed, but she shrugged it off as she pulled clothes from the closet.

"He's genuine. I like that about him," she said. "There are so many people here that aren't…," She struggled for the right word, "I don't know, open-minded like he is. Makes it difficult to make friends." As the words left her mouth, she quickly added, "You and Takashi being the exception, of course! You two are the most open-minded people I know."

There was a brief pause.

"Well, maybe not Takashi. But he tries," Hanamura added with a dry smile.

Asano struck a pose in the middle of the room.

"What can I say? You run the show. I'm here to catch you if you fall."

Hanamura hugged her. "You're my best friend. You know that, right? You tolerate all my hair-brained shenanigans."

Asano returned the hug.

"What else are friends for if not to pour gasoline on your fire?"

Hanamura fixed her with a pleading look. "You sure you don't want to come out tonight? Tendou would be happy if you came. The team might surprise you."

"Oh, alright, alright," said Asano with a sly grin, "but Takashi is coming with us. He has a younger brother who plays soccer. He's my backup plan should all else fail."

A/N: I love second-hand advice. Have you ever been in a funk and the universe pulls a few strings? I once overheard the most heartfelt conversation at the gym between two girls who were discussing a crush. One was telling the other to buck up and make a move, life was short, and if he wasn't interested, he didn't deserve her. It was so inspiring. The next day, I ran across the cafeteria and asked my crush out to prom.

Scared him real good. I can still remember the panicked look on his face. He was a deer caught in the headlights, but he agreed. My friends still laugh about it to this day. XD

"Keep Breathing" - Ingrid Michaelson

"Faint of Heart" - The Strike

"Won't Let Go" - Newton Faulkner

Thank you for reading!

Until next time,

lavendermoonmilk