Chapter Seventeen

It was the first day of summer and the girls' dormitory was eerily quiet.

Hanamura made her way to the washroom at the end of the hall and was surprised to find the showers completely vacant. There was no usual queue of girls waiting outside, and to her delight, there was even plenty of hot water. Breakfast was also quiet. The kitchen downstairs had a handful of students, but they were mostly athletes staying on for summer training. She sat two tables down from the badminton club, eating her yogurt parfait as she read the text messages on her phone.

Morning Suzume! Good luck with classes today, wrote Asano in a myriad of emojis. We're off to Masakado's Grave, but I promise to send pictures of Argus soon. Miss you!

She and her sister, Akiko, had left school the night before to catch a train with their parents to Tokyo. They were making a grand pilgrimage to the most haunted places in the city. My parents are ghost hunters, explained Asano. It was then that Hanamura learned Mr. and Mrs. Asano wrote extensively on the subject, submitting articles to an obscure paranormal journal in addition to their hectic professions in corporate law.

They even booked us rooms at a haunted inn! Asano told Hanamura excitedly. The housekeeper says guests who use the hot springs at night are visited by an evil spirit that tries to drag them under the water. Akiko and I want to go every night to see if we can spot it!

Oh...Sounds fun, Hanamura replied, thinking the complete opposite.

She opened the next message.

Hey, roomy! Thanks for watching my precious babies over the break, wrote Rumi, I left a box on the desk where you'll find the fly jar and flute. If you can, try to play a little. They love music – even if it's not that great. Also, be careful not to eat any of the berries on the plant in the closet. That's belladonna. It will kill you. Happy Summer!

Hanamura frowned. Just how many poisonous plants was Rumi taking on? What else did they have in their dorm room that could precipitate murder?

Hi Suzu, wrote her father, the words terribly misspelled due to his fingers being too large for the keyboard. Eventually, she was able to decipher: don't worry about a thing. There'll be plenty of adventures when you come home! Try to have some fun at school. Love you!

She was relieved to have told her parents what was going on. In hindsight, her fear of burdening them was blown way out of proportion. Instead of disappointment, they responded with complete understanding.

Mom, Dad, I'm so sorry, she said, clutching the fabric of her shirt. She had made the late-night phone call after returning from the park with Tendou. Reiko, Akiko, and Rumi were all in the room with her, eating snickerdoodles as they watched Argus play with an errant sock.

We knew being so far away from home would be hard, honey, said her mother over the phone. Living in a new place takes time. When your father and I were first married, I missed home so much, I walked the two blocks back to my parents' house! You have no idea how brave you are. Much braver than me.

We received word from Nurse Hino, said her father, She spoke to us about her concerns, but she says you're a tough student and that you'll do just fine. You've made some wonderful friends there, Suzume. It comforts us knowing you're so well looked after. But never be afraid to call home.

Yeah, we want to hear about this Osakabe. The woman sounds evil, said her mother.

Hanamura felt a lump inside her throat. She had missed them terribly.

The night had ended in tears and laughter, hugs and promises, cookies and puppy kisses.

She had never slept so good in her entire life.

As she spooned the last of her strawberry yogurt, it was the final message that gave her heart aflutter.

Mornin' champ, wrote Tendou with two exclamation points, knock'em dead today! Those makeup exams have nothing on you. See you later!

He sent a picture of the team eating breakfast, Kawanishi still looking half-asleep and grouchy.

Hanamura grinned. She had almost forgotten that the boys' volleyball club was also staying on at school during the summer break. Their first tournament of the year was scheduled two weeks from now, and they would be finishing with a boot camp held at the Miyagi Prefecture Sports Complex. The thought of seeing Tendou again gave her stomach butterflies. They hadn't spoken properly since that day in the park, too busy with finals. As she thought about their slow walk back to campus, Hanamura flushed with heat. It was the first time he had opened up, telling her things about himself she never would have imagined on her own. She had become a secret keeper, a confidant, and his trust made her feel infinitely more grounded.

I want you.

Hanamura got up from the table in search of something cold to drink. She crossed the small dining area, overhearing a soccer player boast loudly about her sprained ankle as she approached the buffet cart serving breakfast. She searched the ice tray, frowning.

"Needing this?" Isami offered her the small carafe of orange juice, smiling.

"Oh," said Hanamura hesitantly, "Thank you."

The second-year was fixing herself a bowl of oatmeal when she said, "Your name's Suzume, right?"

Hanamura gripped the carafe awkwardly, spilling orange juice on the cart.

"Yes," she answered as she reached for a napkin to mop up the mess.

Isami helped her.

"Akiko tells me you're a really good painter. You even have a moniker," she continued, "you go by 'Magpie Girl.' Is that true?"

Hanamura paused, nodding slowly.

"Yes. It was a nickname someone gave me."

The cheerleader grinned.

"Hmm. I like it," said Isami. "I read a story about a magpie not too long ago." She eyed her with a peculiar smile. "Something tells me you would enjoy it too."

"Sasakura, come on! We're burning precious daylight here," called another cheerleader from across the kitchen. "Scorpions don't jump themselves, ya know."

"Says the person who can barely do her own, Makoto," Isami fired back ruefully.

"See you, Suzume," she nodded in farewell.

Hanamura watched her leave with her giant bowl of oatmeal. Isami had piled it high with fresh raspberries, strolling through the kitchen with a new kind of confidence. It wasn't until Hanamura returned to her own seat with a sticky glass of orange juice that she realized the cheerleader had not stuttered once.

. . . . . . . .

As Hanamura entered the library moments later, Ms. Moriyama strolled to the front counter in a mint green cardigan, her face bright and cheerful.

"Well, good morning! Welcome to the summer club, Suzume. I believe Mrs. Osakabe explained everything to you already?"

"Er…yes, she did," said Hanamura, glancing around the vacant room. "Ms. Moriyama, where is everyone?"

"Most of your classmates already checked in with me," said the librarian as she reached for a stack of booklets on the counter. She handed her the top three. "I'm letting everyone catch up on their summer reading. You may work anywhere in the school today. You'll find that I run things a little less…stringently…whenever the administration's out on holiday." She winked at Hanamura. "If you fancy some homemade lemon bars this afternoon, I suggest meeting me down in the cafeteria for lunch. It's an old family recipe."

She pinched her fingers together and made a loud kissing sound.

Hanamura smiled.

Maybe summer school wouldn't be so bad after all.

"How's your mermaid cousin?" She asked.

The light in Ms. Moriyama's eyes immediately went out.

"Oh. Working at a luxury resort in Marseille," she sniffed. Then, raking fingers through her short bob, she said in a much darker tone, "If you'll excuse me, Suzume, I have the sudden uncontrollable urge to punch something."

She headed straight for the beanbag chairs sitting in the far corner of the library.

Eager to give Ms. Moriyama some privacy, Hanamura took her booklets and made her way to the studio. It was the best place to spend the day. She would have the room to herself, and the possibility of painting if she finished early. But as she dragged the sliding door open, she saw ash-blond hair and wire-frame glasses staring back at her, aghast.

"Takashi?"

"Suzume?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you! Why are you here?"

Hanamura held up her booklets like a badge of honor. "Makeup exams. I didn't pass."

"Oh," said Izakaya. "Neither did I...Looks like we're a regular pair of failures."

"The misfit club," Hanamura agreed. She joined him at the table, pulling up a stool opposite him. Setting her backpack on the floor, she unclipped the bow around her neck and peered at him curiously.

"I had no idea you were struggling."

Izakaya tensed.

"Yeah well, turns out this place is an Ironman Triathlon, and I've only trained for a 5K – a 5K race that I generally walk until I don't want to do it anymore, then I go and get a latte – a white chocolate Frappuccino with whip cream and extra sprinkles," he said, looking very much like he needed one right now. "But this school's like the freaking Roman Colosseum!"

Hanamura crossed her arms, confused.

"But you had me believing that you and Reiko had grades in the books."

He waved his hand in a very pish posh sort of way.

"That's because I didn't want her to know. Reiko's a legacy, did you know that? She and her sister have attended Shiratorizawa since junior high! I went to a parochial school in our old neighborhood. It was a miracle I even passed the entrance exam to this place...Who the hell puts a sudoku in an exam?"

Hanamura was still confused. She tilted her head to the side, frowning.

"Why does it matter what Reiko thinks?" She asked. But as the words left her mouth, she gasped. "Hang on. Takashi, do you like her?"

Izakaya reeled back, nearly tipping off his stool. He made a pterodactyl noise.

"What? No! Why would you–?" He looked offended. "She's my friend! How dare you!"

Hanamura remained dubious to which he sputtered indignantly.

"Alright, look. I know it's hard to imagine with this face," he said, gesturing to himself pompously, "but back in middle school it was the source of extreme ridicule." He rolled his eyes as if it were all behind him. But as he leaned against the table, his expression turned somber. "I was treated badly and…Reiko put a stop to it. Simple as that." He threaded his fingers together on the table with a deep sigh. "She was my first friend. It was hard when we went our separate ways."

"Takashi…," Hanamura murmured, shocked.

He went into full Grumpy Cat mode, his bottom lip jutting out into a scowl.

"I just wanted her to see I wasn't so fragile anymore." He shrugged. "That's all."

Hanamura softened.

"Reiko sees the good in others," she said, thinking of that day with the map. "She likes to take people under her wing and give them a chance."

"She's good at that," he agreed, nodding, "helping people find their way."

Hanamura was reminded of the night Asano snuck into the dorms with Argus stuffed in her wool purse while Akiko distracted the hall monitor. It was just one of the many instances in which Asano went to bat for her friends. It had not escaped her notice that Asano had also contrived the chance meeting in the park between her sister and Ushijima, or that she had supported Izakaya's theatrical side by designing a mage costume.

Reiko was ready to call the police, Tendou had said as they made their way back to school, or organize a manhunt. I felt her summons all the way from the gym.

It's all those scary podcasts she listens to, said Hanamura with a small shake of her head. If anyone shows up five minutes late to club, she assumes we've been kidnapped and sold on the black market.

Hanamura grinned. "Yeah, she is good at that, isn't she?"

Izakaya turned pink at the ears and quickly cleared his throat.

"Anyway, it's been one epic disaster from the next," he said, closing his booklet with a sharp slap.

Hanamura perked up. "What do you mean?"

He scoffed.

"I haven't been able to make a decent thing all year, have I?" He threw up his hands, frustrated. "I can't seem to work this stupid throwing wheel – the kiln is possessed – my turtles keep exploding!" His voice cracked and he tilted his face to the ceiling, blinking back tears. He fanned below his eyes, attempting to master himself. "I'm trying so hard to be on-brand here, but Shiratorizawa throws out a standard I can't reach. I feel like such an imposter."

Hanamura was taken aback. This was the first time she had ever heard Izakaya admit defeat. It was shocking to hear him speak so self-depreciatingly. It had never occurred to her that anyone else in the art club might be suffering from feelings of inadequacy too.

"I feel the same way," she said, coming to sit beside him.

"How? Everything you touch turns to gold," said Izakaya. "Everything I touch explodes."

They sat there in strained silence, the box of ceramic shards on the table a painful ode to his blundering attempts at being a ceramist. Hanamura chewed the inside of her cheek, wondering what words of advice she could possibly offer in a situation like this.

But then – an idea dawned on her.

"Maybe...maybe that's your thing," she said with a curious glance at the box. "Maybe instead of failure, this is a blessing in disguise."

Izakaya looked dejected. "What? Detonating clay bombs?"

Hanamura shook her head.

"Takashi, the reason I don't use a paintbrush is because – well, I don't know how," she admitted with a small shrug of her shoulders. "If I tried, I know I would feel pressured into being perfect like Tashima and lose my love for painting. So, I approach it from a different angle."

She reached for the box, pulling out the fragments of several turtles. She held them up, piecing them together in interesting arrangements. "These sculptures may be broken, but you still made them. Who cares if they came out of the kiln whole or not? Maybe what brings you joy is putting the pieces back together in a new way." She held out the shards to Izakaya with a broad grin. "I'd find that much more interesting than a perfect sculpture. It would tell me more about who you are as a person."

Izakaya's chin wobbled. At first, she thought he was going to snatch the shards out of her hands, scream "How dare you!" in her face, and storm from the room – he looked so angry. But to her greatest bewilderment, he threw himself at her instead, wrapping his arms around her in what could arguably be called a hug. It was polite and airy with feather-light taps of his fingers against her shoulders.

Izakaya never showed public displays of affection. Only Asano was allowed to hug him, and even then, he gave her a hard time about it. Hugs are the greatest sin against humanity, he always said, shrinking back from any threat of physical contact. The mere fact that he was hugging her now spoke volumes.

Hanamura patted him back, amazed. By being open and honest with each other, they had unexpectedly deepened their friendship. She was bearing witness to a side of Izakaya she had never seen before. It was humbling.

Satori was right, she thought with a flush of warmth, it's so much easier when you have others to lean on. I don't have to feel so alone. And – neither do they.

Izakaya retracted, his glasses foggy and nose dripping with snot.

He gave a hearty sniff.

"Suzume, that's genius," he smiled from ear to ear. "That's very on-brand. I can work with that!"

Hanamura smiled back.

"Reiko was right. You do have a heart of gold."

. . . . . . . .

Hanamura found herself alone in the studio, pushing to finish a painting before the sunset gave out. The school was unusually still which meant it wouldn't be long before the nightguard would be making the rounds, securing all the doors. Her paints were still spread out across the floor, her knees blotched in seafoam green. Brushing the hair out of her face, she glanced at the clock. It was fifteen minutes to seven.

Just finish these last few colors, Suzume. She bargained with herself. You're almost done.

Her stomach gave a loud growl in protest. It wasn't the first. She was looking forward to being showered and fed in the comfort of her dorm room. Izakaya had offered to bring food, but Hanamura had declined, thinking this wouldn't take her much longer.

She heaved a deep sigh.

Creature comforts could wait, she had a painting to finish.

Or, at least, that's what she had been thinking the moment before the studio lights cut out and her curtains drew sharply shut. Hanamura twisted on her heels, accidentally falling back onto her palms as she stared up at the intruder. A wild-looking Tendou stood above her, pressing a finger to his lips as he edged his gaze through the drapes.

Hanamura rose to her feet.

"Satori, what are you–?"

He covered her mouth, still holding a finger to his lips.

They stood in close quarters, listening to the distant footfalls of the nightguard.

"You're here awfully late," he said once the coast was clear.

Hanamura could see that he had long since changed out of his training clothes into a simple white shirt and jeans. His hair smelled fresh like rosemary and poked out at odd angles. She was also confronted with the wide set of his chest and his towering height. Had he always been this tall?

Her heart began to race.

"I was just about to finish. Come have a look," she said, ushering him to the floor so that they crouched side-by-side at the edge of the painting. Fishing around for her cell phone, she turned on the flashlight.

There on the floor, in the center of a small stretched canvas, she had placed a colander that was currently oozing paint in striated ripples of green and turquoise. The paint traveled across the surface as sluggishly as magma, fanning out into mesmerizing feathered rings.

Tendou cut his gaze to her, suspicious.

"Where did you find that? The kitchens?"

Hanamura returned his look with a diabolical grin. "I have it on loan from the home economics club," she said, using air quotes, "The Lazy Susan too."

"The what?" He asked.

"You'll see. Wanna give it a try?" She asked him, handing him a carton of yellow paint. "Just pour it there in the center and watch what it does."

Amused, Tendou reached out and poured the paint into the colander. Together, they observed the canvas like a pair of scientists, watching as the yellow seeped out in rivulets, creating a sunburst.

"Where do you even come up with these ideas?" He asked her.

Hanamura drew her brows together as she thought.

"Usually in the moment," she said, "I concentrate, wait and see what the paint does – then, I act." She picked up the colander and swiftly moved it off the canvas, leaving fiery tendrils of yellow in its wake. The colander was placed in a box for safe-keeping, but she flicked the corner of the painting so that it rotated like a spinning top on the floor, causing the colors to expand into a large mandala. She blocked Tendou with an arm in case the paint splashed up, but it coated the canvas nicely. "I never know how I'm going to respond until – miraculously – I'm doing it. It's like…oh, I dunno…," she struggled to find the right word.

"Guessing?" Tendou offered.

She stared at him, that warm, tender feeling spreading inside her chest again.

"Exactly," she whispered.

He was so close, she could see the red of his lashes illuminated in the blue glow of her cell phone. The corners of his mouth were tapered into a grin that made her stomach somersault.

"Ahem." Hanamura stood up, suddenly nervous. She unbuttoned her painting smock and hung it up on the hook beside the door. "How was practice? Everything good this afternoon?"

Tendou stood up slowly, following her to the worktable where she gathered her things in the dark. Her bowtie was still laying on top of the booklets. As she crammed everything into her backpack, trying to get a grip on her nerves, she wished she had run to the dorms to change out of her uniform. Her sock slipped down her calf and she yanked at it distractedly.

"Well, excluding the fact that Kenjiro got into some milk bread and broke wind all practice," he said with a slight grimace, "Tanji was in good spirits today. We only had to do a hundred jump serves."

"Only a hundred?"

Tendou offered her a rakish grin.

"You're right. Perhaps I'm the one in a good mood."

Hanamura flushed.

As they stepped out into the hallway, they both froze as they heard the distinct sound of a rusty metal folding gate being dragged across concrete.

"Oh no! The guard! She's locking the front doors," said Hanamura, raising hands to her face. "We're trapped!"

Tendou responded with an amused look.

"Don't worry, this isn't my first lock-in." He grabbed her hand, removing her backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. "It's time I show you a thing or two that will come in handy. Shiratorizawa Survival Guide 101."

But instead of tugging her along, he herded her back against the wall until her head brushed the bulletin board. The sound of crinkling paper filled her ears, and her heart stammered in her chest as she admired the smooth planes of his face. His expression was open; the persona gone. There was a thrill of excitement as he leaned forward, searching her eyes before pressing his mouth solidly against hers.

The kiss was polite, tentative. A warm greeting at the end of a long day. Hanamura sank into it with relish, reaching up to cradle his jaw. Her center of gravity capsized, and she could no longer feel her toes, but the floating sensation – the feeling of blood turning to fizz – and it was sublime. She moved her lips against his, increasing the pressure as if to say, 'yes, I still want you.'

They hadn't spoken of the kiss in the park. There hadn't been time. The moment had been charged with so much emotion, it felt right in the heat of the moment. But after a few days of rest and routine, time apart from each other had increased a new kind of tension. Hanamura had always been drawn to Tendou, but this was different. This powerful need to stand in his glow, to feel the soft vibrations of his voice. It had evolved into something new and carnal, instinctive.

Tendou swallowed her up. His arms encircled her waist, fingers splaying firmly across her back. She sensed the heat of his neck and marveled at how secure it made her feel; his tight embrace. It was as if he were the last tether to earth, her head swimming in the clouds. Hanamura trusted herself to lean into him, her body suddenly a lissome, useless thing. Her hands traveled from his jaw to his ears, grazing palms over the cool shells until her fingers wound into his hair.

Then, her stomach growled.

Tendou broke the kiss, heaving a sigh.

"Hungry?" He grinned.

Hanamura swallowed, trying to remember human speech. "Starving."

He brushed his thumb under her lower lip, making her mouth part. "I have an idea," he said.

Linking hands again, he led her through the school and down into the shoe lockers. There was a door to the side that led out into the courtyard. Using his student ID, Tendou shimmied the latch that secured the door from outside. He checked to see if the coast was clear before ushering her into the warm evening. Giant pools of orange light spilled from the streetlamps. Their haze was interrupted by the eager swarming of moths. Hanamura listened to the cicadas, noticing that the sky was nearly graced by a full moon.

It was the first night of summer, and already she was having too much fun.

. . . . . .

"When you said you had an idea, I didn't realize it meant climbing a mountain," Hanamura panted as she struggled to keep up with his long strides.

"Just a little ways further," Tendou encouraged her, already spotting the pink-and-white striped awning now lavender in the moonlight. A soft, fluorescent glow emitted from the front entrance and he saw an unfamiliar face running the cash register. Tendou placed a hand at the small of her back and steered her towards the convenience store.

"Welcome to Swan Mart," said a bored, prepubescent voice.

Tendou and Hanamura enjoyed the overwhelming blast of air conditioning before greeting the clerk.

"You must be Daisuke," he said to the boy who was wearing his grandmother's apron and had the same square nose and sloped brows as Satsuki. "Where's your granny?"

Daisuke looked Tendou up and down, straightening from his perch. "Playing bridge with her gardening club. Who are you?"

"Her favorite patron," answered Tendou somewhat disappointed. He hoped the venerable snowbird would find Hanamura worthy of fussing over and cut him a break on foodstuff. No such luck tonight.

"You're that volleyball player she's always mentioning." Daisuke narrowed his eyes at Tendou, taking in the spiked hair and lanky body. "The feather duster."

Hanamura coughed, hiding her face from view.

Tendou gritted his teeth. Evidently, her grandson had inherited her criticism as well.

He stomped over to the register.

"I'll have you know that I ate the greens! You tell your granny that!" He jabbed a finger in the boy's face. "I ate every other abominable thing she forced into my grocery bags. Tell her, Daisuke. Give her word of my grievances!"

The door jingled behind him.

"Is that so?"

Daisuke stood from his place behind the counter. "Grandma!"

"Hi Sonny," Satsuki strolled in with a floral gift bag on one arm and a light scarf draped over her shoulders. There was a noticeable flush to her cheeks, a ruddy color that suggested an evening of libations. She peered at Tendou before glancing at her wristwatch. "Satori, you're out a bit late. What brings you by this evening? Your magazine doesn't release for another week."

Hanamura popped out from behind him, revealing an armful of onigiri, seaweed crisps, a bottle of lemonade, and some garden tomatoes. She had even thought to grab little cake rolls wrapped in rice paper. "I think this should be plenty and I grabbed some for you too," she was saying, tugging on his sleeve.

Satsuki peered between the two of them, her expression slowly morphing from confusion to delight.

"Oh," she said simply, pressing her hands together. Her smile curled like a party streamer. "Oh, I see. Enjoying the moonlight with your ladylove, are we? How marvelous! And who might you be, dear?" She was eyeing Hanamura, a cat cornering a mouse. The first year went stiff.

"S-Suzume Hanamura, ma'am," she answered formally, taking half a step behind Tendou. "N-Nice to meet you!"

"You have an accent," Satsuki pointed out with obvious delight. "Not from around here, are you, Suzume?"

"No ma'am!"

Satsuki drew close, running a discerning eye over Hanamura as if inspecting a horse at auction. She cut her gaze to Tendou with raised brows, and he found himself growing quite red. In fact, his ears were burning.

"So you're the little mastermind that's had my Satori so worked up," she said with slivered eyes, causing him to self-combust. "Quite the clever bird, indeed. Ah." The old woman tutted as she scrutinized the items Hanamura held in her arms.

"You two really ought to save your money. Here," she handed Tendou the floral gift bag that was resting on her arm. To Hanamura, she said, "It's full of wonderful homemade sweets from my friend, Etsuko Hino."

Tendou shared a meaningful glance with Hanamura. Was she referring to the same Hino as Nurse Hino?

"You'll enjoy this better. Daisuke," she ordered her grandson who jolted to attention, "run upstairs and grab the bottle of mint tea," to Tendou and Hanamura, she added, "Trust me, it pairs nicely with everything."

Her grandson looked slightly aggrieved to be running around like a page boy on behalf of two high schoolers, but followed her orders, nevertheless. He disappeared up the staircase behind the cash register into the apartment above the shop.

Meanwhile, Hanamura was forced to relinquish her bounty at the counter. Everything except the tomatoes which Satsuki placed in the bag.

"You don't have to do this," Tendou tried refusing, but she wouldn't have it.

"Suzume hails from the countryside. They eat heartier food where she's from," Satsuki said, winking at her in the process. "Besides, this will taste extra delicious in the moonlight. You'll be safe in the park across the street."

"Here Grandma." Daisuke reappeared, handing over a clear, glass bottle of chilled mint tea. She indicated that he give it to Tendou. "There you are. All set. It's lovely to meet you, Suzume. Come by sometime and we'll have a proper chat. For now, Grandma Satsuki needs her beauty rest. Toodleloo!"

Hanamura and Tendou were ushered back out onto the street. It all happened in a blur.

"Satori, who was that?" Hanamura asked.

"A very good friend," he said, still mildly shaken. He had hoped but never suspected he would make out like a bandit. He felt rich with his bag of homemade confectionary and bottled tea. It was the first decent thing the shop owner had ever given him. "Her name is Satsuki Matsushida. Her family owns Swan Mart. I think she likes you."

"Matsushida…hmm," thought Hanamura as she studied the store. For a moment, he thought the name was familiar to her, but Hanamura simply asked, "Do I really have an accent?"

"A smidge," he replied. "You drawl your words like a song. It's nice."

They crossed the street into the park Satsuki had suggested. It was softly lit. The streetlamps emitted a dark, syrupy light akin to honey, and the view from the park railing was beautiful. They could see the city lights like the sequins of a velvet gown, and the distant shimmer of the river. Hanamura eagerly broke into the little boxes of homemade spring rolls, canapes, tuna tartare on bread crisps. They found mandarin oranges dipped in dark chocolate, pastries crumbled with pistachios and a sleeve of raspberry cheesecake. When they fed themselves thirsty, Tendou popped open the bottle of tea and they shared it, enjoying the cold, sugary mint.

Satiated, they lounged on the grass in companionable silence.

"I have to confront them," said Hanamura at last, disturbing his daze.

Tendou shifted against his elbows.

"Confront who?"

"Mrs. Osakabe, Tashima, the art club – I need to make things right," she said, rising to her feet. She stood barefoot in the grass. "I've let fear get in the way and lost sight of my goal. The only way to fix this is to confront it."

Tendou thought of another girl who shared similar sentiments. He thought it was a worthy declaration. It was good to see that fire rekindle in her eyes, now tinged a red amber. "Is there anyone else you need to confront?" He ghosted his fingers around her calf, the one that always slipped free of its sock. Hanamura went weak in the knees and collapsed beside him.

"You," she said, breathless.

She smelled like orange and mint. Her face was half-obscured in her dark hair, haloed in golden lamplight. Tendou was still reclining against his elbows, drinking her in with a languid stupor until she leaned forward, placing a hand on his chest.

"Satori," she said, fashioning his name into something precious.

It set him overflowing with exquisite pain and he closed his eyes.

Her kiss was a punctuation mark on the thoughts racing through his mind. She silenced everything with a single press of her mouth. Their moment in time sharpened into hyper-focus like the lens of a camera, and Tendou thought he could feel the blades of grass reaching up toward the night sky. Strands of hair spilled over his face and he relaxed in it, surrendering to the rush. Hanamura cupped his chin, and the heat of her hands made his skin feel alive with electricity.

Tendou rolled to the side as he snaked an arm around her waist, drawing her closer. Her body was soft. She reclined against the cool grass as he bent over her, marveling at the generous slant of her neck. Her thin dress shirt was the only thing that separated skin from skin, and his fingers nearly spanned her entire ribcage. He could feel her short, shallow breaths.

He was holding a bird. A small, fluttering sparrow.

Tendou stilled.

Stories gave him emotion. Volleyball gave him emotion. But Hanamura…she revealed a side of himself that was quite unknown and complex. He never knew that solace could be found in the beating heart of another person. Or that their laughter could be medicine to his soul, and he began to wonder if life afforded him the same possibilities that, until now, only seemed possible in comic books.

He reached up and grazed knuckles against her jaw, watching her eyes shine.

"Well? Aren't you going to kiss me?"

His mouth curved, the moon to her stars.

A/N: Just an all-around happy-feely chapter. Satsuki warms my heart whenever she appears. How do you feel about Izakaya assembling his ceramic shards into Frankenstein turtles? Or Reiko and Akiko trying to find a water-mongering evil spirit? Do you think Rumi has big plans for her belladonna plant?

"Your Design" - Grace Mitchell

Now, the editor in me wanted to cut the next chapter due to pacing issues, but the hopeless romantic had a fit and won out. I considered submitting it as a one-shot, but somehow it just didn't seem appropriate. Like all good romance stories, I feel like this is the kernel of gold we hold out for as readers. Courtship Satori Tendou style. XD

Thank you so much for reading and for such sweet, sweet reviews!

lavendermoonmilk