Chapter Twenty-Six

Hanamura ducked into the girls' restroom on the second floor, hastily turning on a faucet. Cold water rushed into her palms, and she splashed her face several times to douse the fire still raging in her cheeks. She hoped it would be enough to calm her down. Her body felt like an oven set to broil.

You should have known better, she chided herself. Never ever – under any circumstances – underestimate a demon. Daylight won't protect you. School won't protect you. Now you know for certain homework won't do the trick!

So what? Her heart argued, nonchalant. That's what makes it fun. He keeps you on your toes.

Hanamura studied her face in the mirror, finding her reflection raw and wild.

She looked euphoric.

It's the rush, her heart went on to say. He's the only person who makes you feel this way.

She scoffed. Like what? A simpering schoolgirl?

Her heart radiated with heat. No, like a force of nature. An agent of chaos.

Hanamura slicked back her hair, watching the water droplets darken her shirt collar.

Her escape from the library had been fraught with peril. Tendou had trapped her in a delicate situation, and though she managed to leave with her modesty somewhat intact, she was completely flustered. Her instincts had urged her to flee the moment he showed up with a smile dark as sin. The glitter shining at his temple should have been a dead giveaway too, but a small part of her wanted to gloat over her victory, bask in her cleverness. He had fallen for her trap – hook, line, and sinker. It was her greatest feat yet and one she wanted to laud over him. But just like her stunt with the chocolate in Satsuki's apartment, such an act of defiance was not without its consequences. The inside of her knee still burned where his lips touched skin, a new welt to join all the others.

Hanamura gripped the sink, restless.

She supposed it was true. She was becoming a glutton for danger. She could see it so clearly in her eyes right now, so full of desire. If only Tendou knew how badly she wanted to reciprocate. How close she came to returning the favor. She was not without her fair share of wickedness too. But the fact that they were in school under the watchful gazes of students and teachers kept her boldness in check.

Hanamura sharpened her gaze.

Perhaps it was time to let some of that reservation go.

She straightened, pleased to see she wasn't gazing at the visage of a simpering schoolgirl anymore, but a cool, calculated villainess.

That's more like it,she thought. I'm gonna keep him on his toes too. Next time, he won't know what hit him.

A small buzz issued from her backpack. Jumping, she turned off the faucet and listened for sounds out in the hall. Had Tendou followed her from the library? Was he trying to offer some kind of truce?

"I don't think so. Whatever consolation you're offering, I'm not falling for it," she griped aloud as she reached for her cell phone. "All study privileges have been revoked until further notice. Sorry, not sorry – Oh."

It wasn't Tendou texting her after all. It was Tashima.

Hey, you still around? I'm in the studio. We need to talk.

Hanamura studied her phone for a moment, concerned. It wasn't like Tashima to communicate through text, not when she had the option of speaking to Hanamura in person. They had grown accustomed to meeting in between classes or over breakfast and dinner in the dorms. Just from the message alone, she could tell something was wrong.

Collecting her things, Hanamura peeked outside the restroom before setting off toward the stairs.

A few moments later, she found the studio in shadow. The windows on the west-facing wall were painted a bright fuchsia. Though it was relatively early in the evening, the summer weather had slowly begun to recede, causing the sky to grow more and more spectacular at twilight. It gave the room a striking discoloration; deep, teal shadows spliced by warm magenta light. Amid the dimness, a lone figure stood waiting.

"Tashima," she greeted somewhat hesitantly.

The second year turned, the light at the windows casting her in a pink veil. "Hanamura."

"I got your message," she said, waving her phone in the air. "You wanted to see me?"

Tashima eyed her for a moment, taking in her harried state. She lifted a brow.

"You're missing a sock."

The sharp tone in her voice made Hanamura balk. She crossed her ankles, hiding her naked shin.

"I – erm – tossed it," she said, shamefaced. "Got tired of yanking at it, so I pitched it."

Tashima remained inscrutable.

"Uh-huh. And I suppose you worked up that flush…studying, was it?" She asked lightly. "I had no idea science could be so…stimulating."

Her words struck Hanamura like darts, pinning her to her shame. She quickly averted her gaze.

"Yeah well…it is my favorite subject," she mumbled.

Tashima rolled her eyes.

"You better have a seat."

Wary, Hanamura removed her backpack, setting it down on the floor as she took a stool at the worktable. Tashima flicked on Yamada's drafting light, brightening the room. Hanamura tried to decipher the reasons why she would have been summoned so late in the day and away from the others, but Tashima was hard to read; her face obscured by her curtain of blonde hair. She seemed irritated.

"Is everything okay?" Hanamura ventured at last.

Tashima issued a low tsk. Her nostrils started flaring, a surefire sign that Hanamura was about to be treated to a tongue-lashing. She braced herself.

"Listen, I know your involvement with a certain high-profile player is going to invite…inevitable curiosity," she began in a clipped tone, holding her hands out in acknowledgement, "and heaven knows this school loves to gossip, but even you have to agree that this is starting to get out of hand."

Hanamura furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

Tashima paused.

"You're becoming reckless. Every day, you're drawing more and more attention to yourself," she huffed. "You seem to be operating under the assumption that none of this will catch up to you in the end."

"Tashima, it's a bit of harmless fun," Hanamura argued, hunching her shoulders. "It's meant to be a distraction to throw people off. I'm not being reckless."

Tashima's gaze flickered.

"Really? Then how do you explain this." She withdrew a newspaper from her portfolio and tossed it onto the table. It made a sharp noise as it hit the wood. "Tell me how this isn't going to get under the noses of the disciplinary committee? Hmm?"

Hanamura reached for the paper, her stomach twisting with sudden dread.

Never in a million years would she expect to find herself on the front page of the Shiratorizawa Chronicle, but there she was, rendered in a bold graphic. One of the designers had given her a modern treatment, emphasizing her closely-cropped hair and green eyes. She stood contrapposto with her chin slightly tilted, her smirk half-hidden underneath a finger as if she were hiding a tantalizing secret. Behind her was the shadow of a bird in flight. The overall effect was rather iconic. Below the picture was a sensational headline reading Magpie Girl: Quirky Misfit or New Starlet on the Rise? A New Era of Feminine Intrigue Comes to Shiratorizawa.

"Oh boy," she murmured, glancing at the article beneath the image. "This has gotten out of hand."

Tashima flattened her gaze.

"You don't say?" She took to pacing the studio. "Sui and I overheard the editorial team discussing the article in the library this afternoon. Apparently, they're strapped for content now that Nationals has been postponed. Kazane Fujiwara pitched a featurette on the boys' golf club as a buffer, but obviously no one wants to read about golf." She made a face, indicating she was among those who found the subject too tedious for consideration. "So, the editor gave the front-page headline to a tabloid columnist instead. A tabloid columnist!" She shook her head in disbelief. "They're so desperate for anything to satiate the school until the culture festival arrives, they're resorting to celebrity gossip! This time tomorrow, hundreds of copies will be circulating all over campus. Anyone who's anyone will know your name now."

Hanamura scrutinized the article. "Well, not quite. They'll know a – Suzume Hanabusa." She scoffed. "Good grief. I don't think this was even spell-checked."

Tashima rounded on her, severe.

"What? It's not like I agreed to any of this," said Hanamura defensively.

"No, but you've been playing around in the public eye!" Tashima argued. She stared at Hanamura, frustrated. "I thought we agreed to operate incognito?"

"We did. We are," Hanamura quickly corrected herself. "This doesn't have anything to do with Operation Magpie." Glossing over the article, she shook her head exasperatedly. "Most of this is still fixated on the pitchfork. And–" she squinted her eyes "–why I help Rumi catch flies after school."

Tashima uttered a long-suffering sigh. She started massaging her temples.

"We were already walking on thin ice to begin with, Hanamura. But this," she snatched the newspaper, shaking it in the air before depositing it back on the table, "This is going to make it increasingly difficult to proceed without interference. We still haven't met with the Student Government Council, and don't think the disciplinary committee finds your spectacle with Tendou all that amusing."

Hanamura winced. She hadn't given that much thought until now.

"And what is it with you two anyway?" Tashima questioned her impatiently. "Why the secrecy? The competition? The more you refuse, the more he seems to poke his nose in our business. I have the chess club working night and day to develop strategies to keep him off our scent."

"And they're doing a fantastic job," Hanamura reassured her. "They took my scavenger hunt idea and made it incredible! He spent all afternoon trying to decipher the riddle we left on the third floor. I thought the chess duel would have taken him an extra couple of days, but he ended up being better at it than I thought," she said with a frown, "The captain wants a rematch."

Tashima closed her eyes, appearing as if she were at the end of her rope.

"So he's a chess genius too? Great. That's just what we need."

She sounded bitter.

Hanamura paused, the strange feeling of déjà vu overcoming her again. She had been in this situation before, traipsing through a minefield as she dodged Tashima's questions like bullets. But where before she had thrown up her defenses and fled the scene, now she took a moment to better assess the situation. Casting her gaze about the room, Hanamura noticed the darkened studio, the late hour, the open portfolio on the worktable…Papers were strewn everywhere, a hodge-podge of to-do lists and project deadline reminders. By the looks of things, Tashima had been here for quite some time stewing over something.

The second year was never more miserable than when her plans went awry. Hanamura had learned that, for Tashima, losing control was scary. Anything that got in the way of her meticulous to-do lists was treated as a threat; one that needed to be eradicated immediately. Though such discipline enabled her to accomplish incredible amounts of work, it left little room for spontaneity.

"Tashima," Hanamura murmured slowly in thought, "when was the last time you had a nap?"

The second-year blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You know – like, a really good nap? Do you ever cut loose and relax? Take a night off?"

Tashima gave her an incredulous look. "Have you not heard a single word I just said?"

"I have. But…I also know you tend to get overly critical when you're tired," said Hanamura with a soft grin. "A bit of school gossip isn't enough to derail us. You know that, right?" She set the newspaper aside, folding her hands on the table. "And our allies are committed to safeguarding our interests. We can trust them. So why don't you tell me what's really going on?"

Tashima leaned against the table, tight-lipped. Her hands were fisted into her skirt.

"Come on. Don't hold back," Hanamura urged her gently. "We're partners, remember? We agreed to be honest with each other. Tell me what's really bothering you."

Tashima covered her eyes with a hand, sighing.

"It's just – It's this whole thing, okay?" She confessed. "So many people are involved now, and everything seems to be gaining speed as we're getting closer to the festival. I know I spoke big during our pitch meeting, but–" Tashima tapered off, falling silent. Her eyes scanned the windows.

"I'm worried, Hanamura," she said at last. "I keep going over the project specs, but my calculations keep changing. This experiment–" she shook her head reluctantly "–that idiot, Hara, was right. It's dangerous. Someone could get hurt if we're not careful. Without a proper safety analysis, Noriko will fall flat in her meeting with the council. I'm afraid all of this hard work will be for nothing."

Hanamura took in everything she was saying with a fair amount of unrest. From the outset, Tashima had volunteered to oversee the mathematical portion of their project, but it never occurred to Hanamura that the scope of their vision might be too big for one person to compute. Tashima had remained so calm and confident over the past few weeks, Hanamura had been none the wiser.

Guilt washed over her, and she suddenly felt foolish for her behavior until now. She should have caught on that Tashima was stressed. The second year had taken on the bulk of the work, and with the culture festival drawing close, Hanamura could see why she was becoming so anxious. The pressure was mounting.

"So…it's the calculations that are giving you trouble?" She asked.

Tashima nodded. "There's too many variables. I'm starting to have doubts that this will work."

Hanamura chewed her cheek.

This did pose a significant problem. Though they had secured most of their materials and the stage where they would perform, the most pressing part of their project had been left largely untouched. Much of that had to do with waiting until the final dimensions of the stage and musical score were decided. Not to mention, the technique published in the book they borrowed from the library hadn't disclosed its methods step-for-step. Most of it was left up for interpretation.

Do you think it's possible to do our own version of this? Hanamura had asked Tashima at the start of the new term. They were huddled over the book, assessing it over breakfast.

Tashima studied it curiously. I don't see why not. The mechanics are simple. It requires some planning, but we've got plenty of time to work all that out. How hard could it be?

At the time, they had been so eager to pitch their idea to the club. It felt like they had all the time in the world to figure everything out. But already, the month of September was dwindling fast, and their collaborations with other clubs had invited unforeseen challenges. Ryu was determined to write an entire rock opera that fused jazz and reggae in a garish amalgamation of 80s pop music. Rumi had stepped in to intervene, but, unsurprisingly, Ryu was threatening to walk if he didn't get his way. He was such a diva. If that wasn't bad enough, the theater club needed stage directions for a production that was only half-realized. When asked what kind of pulley systems or light transitions they needed, Hanamura and Tashima would stare at each other dumbfounded. Neither of them knew the first thing when it came to stage craft. Their project was quickly growing more and more complicated by the day.

Hanamura felt a sudden chill crawl up her neck.

Don't make us regret this, Magpie Girl. All eyes will be on you should this whole thing fall apart. I hope you've prepared for the worst.

For the first time, the seeds of doubt Ryu had sewn were threatening to sprout.

Hanamura tensed.

No, she was not going to let fear get in the way this time. They had made too much progress to turn back now. Takuya Matsushida wouldn't have let fear get in the way. Shuichi Otake certainly wouldn't have either. This was a problem requiring solutions, that's all. Her father had done it countless times, going back to the beginning and finetuning his projects. They could do the same.

Hanamura pinched her chin in thought.

"You know what we need? A champion. Someone who can act as a point of contact on our behalf."

Tashima eyed her curiously. "What? Like a publicist?"

"Yes! Exactly." Hanamura snapped her fingers. "You said the editor turned down Kazane Fujiwara? We could use someone of her caliber. Fukuhara said she's a political heavy-weight. She could help us navigate all this publicity." As she thought on it further, the idea had a lot of merit. "In fact, I bet you anything she could help us strengthen our proposal for the Student Government Council too. Help us buy some time to work out the finer details of the experiment. Would that help alleviate some of the pressure?"

Tashima perked up.

"Immensely."

Hanamura grinned. "Okay. That's one problem solved." She stood up, resting her hands on her hips. "As for your to-do lists, let's get Takashi to help. He's really good at scheduling. We worked together quite a bit over the summer break, studying for our makeup exams. He'd make a great personal assistant."

A strange look crossed Tashima's face. "A publicist? A personal assistant? Are we running a business now?"

"No, we're getting help," said Hanamura patiently. "You don't have to do everything by yourself, Tashima. This is way too much for one person to manage – it would make anyone feel stressed," she murmured, eyeing the mess of paperwork on the table with a small shake of her head. "But if we get others to help, people we trust to take on some of the responsibility, you'll be able to relax and enjoy yourself more. Have fun! How does that sound?"

Tashima paused, thinking on it for a moment. "Fun…," she murmured absently, drawing her brows together. The concept seemed foreign to her – almost as if she had never considered art to be anything but hard mental and physical toil. She looked to Hanamura, baffled. "That does sounds kinda nice," she said, dropping her shoulders with a sigh.

Hanamura smiled.

"As for the experiment itself, why don't you let me borrow your calculations? I can take a look at them tonight. Who knows?" She hunched her shoulders. "Maybe they just need a second pair of eyes?"

Tashima frowned. "But – What about your biology quiz?"

"Huh?" Hanamura blinked, confused. A small draft in the studio caught at her bare leg, and she was reminded of the scene in the library. Her body was once again set to broil. "Oh – right. That." She coughed, attempting to hide her flush. "Er…I think I've studied plenty."

Tashima lifted her brows. "Oh? Your tutor was that thorough, huh?"

Hanamura scowled at her.

"Stop it. I know what you're getting at," she said grudgingly. "I'm already berating myself, okay? I don't need you adding to my guilt trip!"

Tashima smirked, handing over her portfolio.

"Our deadline is coming up soon," she warned Hanamura. "I just want you to exercise some discipline. There can't be any distractions. None of this googly-eye business," she said, motioning to Hanamura's dampened state, "If we can't solve this issue, we won't have anything for the culture festival. The art club could come up empty-handed."

"That won't happen," Hanamura assured her. "We just need to regroup. We'll figure this out, I promise." She flashed her a determined look. "I'll do everything I can to make this work."

Though it was Tashima's nature to remain dubious, some of the worry lifted from her gaze. She took a deep breath, appearing more at ease.

"Thank you, Hanamura. This helps a lot." She said. Then, a bit more penitently, she added, "And…you're probably right. I could use a nap." She rubbed her eyes. "I've been pushing myself too hard."

The words were spoken with a new level of trust that hadn't existed until now. It gave Hanamura the startling realization that Tashima relied on her more than she knew. Their project wasn't the only thing she needed to safeguard. She needed to protect her partner too.

"We'll delegate things better so you're not having to juggle so much on your own," she said, patting her shoulder. "But in the meantime–" Hanamura waved her phone in the air again, mischievous "–do you wanna watch the video the badminton club sent me earlier today?" Her expression turned impish. "I've been told his reaction was priceless."

Tashima tilted her chin. "You mean you haven't watched it yet?"

Hanamura shook her head. "I was waiting for you. I thought you'd appreciate it too."

Tashima broke out into a small grin.

"You know me too well."

. . . . . . . . .

The summer heat finally broke like a fever, giving way to a crisp, golden autumn as October fell into full swing. Though the lawns retained their emerald shade, the trees surrounding campus began to change, crowning the school in bright flames of yellow and red. Classes resumed with ardent force, but as the days steadily grew shorter and the weather cooler, everyone's spirits lifted in anticipation of the fall festivities.

"Looks like another pumpkin palooza this year," announced Jin as he surveyed the school menu. "Pumpkin soup, mashed pumpkin, pumpkin stir fry–"

"What about that custard with the candied nuts?" asked Semi.

Jin studied the printout. "Yep! Pumpkin flan's back on the dessert menu, boys."

Semi fist-pumped, displaying rare excitement. "That stuff's like crack, I swear. You–" he pointed at Shirabu "–will give yours to me from now on. Seeing as you can't stomach dairy and all."

Shirabu shot him a dirty look.

"Maybe I will, maybe I won't," he muttered. "Maybe I'll treat you to some pumpkin-flavored crop dust. How does that sound?" His eyes flashed vindictively.

Semi looked past his shoulder, gaping. "Asano! What brings you to the cafeteria?"

Panic bloomed in Shirabu's eyes, bright as day, and he quickly whipped around only to realize that there was no one there. When he turned back around, he glared daggers at Semi.

"That was low, even for you."

Semi broke into a self-satisfied grin. "Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. Maybe I'm just looking out for you." He hunched his shoulders. "How does that sound?"

Grumbling, Shirabu got up from the table and headed for the juice counter.

"What about the pumpkin dumplings?" Reon asked Jin. "Those were my favorite."

"Yep. Those too. Croquettes, gratin, curry…Wow, the kitchen staff's really getting into the spirit of things," said Jin as he flipped through the brochure. A slight frown crossed his face. "We're gonna end up looking like Oompa-Loompas again."

Kawanishi glanced up from his lunch. "What?"

Tendou sat in the middle of their chatter, caught in a daze. His mind was fixated on the lazy Sunday afternoon spent in the park with Hanamura and their friends. They had agreed to set aside time between their studies for some much-needed respite. He snagged a volleyball from the gym and taught her how to pass it back and forth while Argus chased after it with a lolling pink tongue. Though they were dressed in sweaters to ward off the chill, the sun felt warm, the air fresh. Leaves began to tumble from the branches, peppering the wind with cinnamon and spice.

Tendou had never felt more content.

He was reliving the precise moment when Hanamura reached up to remove a leaf from his hair when a rock in the form of a loud belch plunked through the calm waters of his memory.

Tendou blinked, finding the rest of his teammates staring at the end of their table, concerned.

Their captain was hunched over his bowl of noodles, a nauseated look on his face. Something in the way they glistened under the cafeteria lights, swimming in their pool of bone broth and green onions, didn't quite sit right with him. He issued another small burp, shutting his eyes tightly against the sight.

"You alright, Captain?" Tendou asked.

He shook his head. "We dissected frogs today. It didn't go so well."

The rough edge to his voice piqued their curiosity. He was behaving as if he had returned from the emergency room and witnessed something ghastly.

"Why? What happened?" asked Reon.

The third-year stared vacantly at the table. "Oshiro…she…she gave us all oven mittens and plastic knives – told us to 'have at it.' Those were her exact words."

Tendou dropped his chopsticks.

"Wait. She didn't break out the scalpels?" He asked, incredulous.

Surely, Ms. Oshiro would have lightened up on her silent protest to allow the third years a fair shot at sailing through their dissection lab. It was the only experiment on her syllabus approved by the School Board, and it happened to be the one she cherished the most. Tendou thought for sure she would have rejoiced in that, at least.

Apparently not.

Their captain shook his head dismally. "Too dangerous. Someone could get hurt, she said. Better to be on the safe side…Do you have any idea what it's like to saw through rubber using a plastic knife?"

"Those things don't cut worth a crap," said Kawanishi, abhorrent.

Their captain turned his vacant eyes on him.

"I know, and yet we hacked and we sawed and we ripped." Kawanishi cringed, pulling back from him slightly. "It took us nearly half an hour to make the first incision," he wiped his face with a hand, muttering, "It was like a scene from a horror movie. Two people passed out just from the noise alone. And then we had to crack open the sternum. Do you know what a pulverized amphibian spleen looks like?" He asked Yunohama next who shook his head frightfully, shrinking back. A haunted look overcame their captain as he stared off at nothing in particular. "Well, I do," he murmured bleakly. "And I have to live with that for the rest of my life."

When his gaze lowered onto his bowl of noodles, he burped again.

"We could say a few words," offered Tendou somewhat jokingly, "for the frogs."

Reon shot him a look.

What? I'm just trying to help, thought Tendou, shrugging his shoulders.

It was then that Shirabu returned to the table, bearing his glass of cranberry juice. He only just sat down when their libero appeared.

"Gimme that," said Yamagata, snatching his juice and downing it like a shot.

"Hey!" Shirabu snapped angrily. "I waited in line for that!"

"Yeah? Well, how 'bout you get us two more? I could use another drink."

Shirabu stood, glaring at Yamagata as he headed back for the juice line.

Yamagata sat down, appearing as if he had just returned from a job interview. He loosened his tie and rested a manila folder on the table which contained a copy of his resume and two letters of recommendation. They were all aware their captain had provided a character witness statement earlier that week.

"So, how'd your interview with the cheer squad go?" Reon asked him.

Yamagata sighed.

"I'm not sure," he said, rubbing his brow. "They blindfolded me outside the school and took me on a ride on the golf cart around campus. Next thing I know, I'm up in the hayloft in the barn with the shutters closed and a spotlight hanging from the rafters. The captain and vice-captain were both there–"

"Kazane and Makoto?" Tendou asked.

"Yeah, them. I…I think they were doing a good-cop, bad-cop routine." Yamagata squinted his eyes as he recalled the experience. "One kept slamming her fists on the table, asking me if I was ready to confess while the other one started reciting the cheer manifesto. It was really scary."

The team leaned forward in suspense as Yamagata stared into his empty glass. They had all watched as the cheerleaders ambushed him just outside the boys' restroom on the second floor. It was a highly covert and systematic maneuver; one that gave them the chilling impression he was being indicted for crimes against humanity and taken into custody. Yamagata had even hung his head as they escorted him from the premises.

"They asked me a bunch of weird stuff," Yamagata went on. "Hooked me to a machine that's supposed to detect lies–"

"A lie detector?" Jin repeated with wide eyes.

"Yeah, one of those," Yamagata nodded. "They wanted to know my plans for college, where I saw myself in five years, my stance on women's issues…then they threw me a bunch of ethical 'what would you do' type scenarios."

"Like what?" asked Semi.

"Like if I had to choose whether to save a baby or an old lady from getting run over at a crosswalk, who would I save and why," said Yamagata.

"Jesus Christ," said Jin. "What was your answer?"

"That I'd save both of them, obviously!" Yamagata snapped. "I'd chuck the baby at the grandma and shove them both off the road, sacrificing myself in the process. I'm not a complete idiot!"

The team exchanged looks amongst themselves.

"Did you – uh – use that exact wording?" Reon finally asked.

"Yeah, why?"

When the team continued to stare at him feebly, Yamagata wilted.

"I'm so screwed," he lamented, dropping his head into his hands. "Sasakura, I've failed you! I haven't even asked you out and I've already been rejected."

Tendou glanced briefly to the table at the far corner of the cafeteria where the cheer squad had assembled. By the clandestine chatter happening among Kazane, Makoto, and Isami, things were not as hopeless as Yamagata thought. Kazane maintained her poker face and Makoto her trickster grin, but Isami chanced a glance over her shoulder, peering at the libero with a soft look. Something about him had captured her attention. When she met gazes with Tendou, she was quick to turn back around, her ears turning pink.

Tendou grinned.

If Yamagata had said so much as half the things he rambled on about her during boot camp, spilling his guts like a delirious Shakespearian love sonnet, Tendou had a feeling he presented a very compelling suit.

"Whelp, if you need me, I'll be down here," he announced dejectedly. "I haven't slept in three days."

Yamagata proceeded to slip under the table where he would remain for the rest of the lunch period.

There was a slight raising of voices. Tendou looked up in time to see their class representative crossing the room, drawing multiple gazes in her wake. Akiko approached their table with a clipboard in hand, the cuffs of her dress shirt folded neatly over her sweater.

Tendou narrowed his gaze, sly.

Speaking of a delirious love sonnet. These days, Akiko Asano was devastatingly beautiful. She had a look about her as if she had just traipsed the Scottish Moors, brooding over the deepest shadows of her heart. She had a tristful look that was echoed by the coppery wisps of hair framing her delicate face. The fashion had taken hold of her shortly after the summer break. Rumors purported she and her sister brought the trend back from Tokyo, but Tendou knew several near misses of tripping in the stairwell had something to do with it too.

As she approached their table, the entire volleyball team paused to stare at her, captivated.

"Hi everyone," she greeted them, clearing her throat. "I'm coming around with festival forms. Do you know what the volleyball club will be contributing to the culture festival this year?" She handed Tendou the clipboard with a stack of forms attached, rubbing her eyes. "I need to submit your budget request to the Culture Festival Board as early as this afternoon – before all the funding gets parceled out to the third years' Casino Bonanza."

Tendou studied her with a small frown.

"You doing alright, Akiko? You seem a little stressed," he commented. "Would you like to sit down?" He patted the empty chair next to him. "Kenjiro, don't be rude–" he snapped his fingers at Shirabu who had just returned to their table "–offer the lady a drink."

Shirabu clutched his glass, hassled.

"Oh, I'm fine. Thank you," said Akiko, causing the setter to relax slightly until she added, "I will take the juice though. Is it cranberry?"

Shirabu relinquished it with a scowl, turning to stand in line for the third time.

Akiko took a sip.

"It's peak season for all the class representatives," she explained with a sigh. "All those budgetary meetings don't run themselves, unfortunately. We've been tasked with hauling all the festival decoration boxes to the auditorium for inventory too. And I forgot my gloves."

She drew her face into a pout that was worthy of the silver screen.

The whole team gawked.

It was then that Ushijima, who up until that point had been chewing his noodles with deliberate care, laid his chopsticks across his bowl.

"I need the restroom," he announced suddenly. "I will be gone for quite some time. If anyone needs me," he paused to look at them all, "I'll be in said restroom."

The others spared him concerned glances.

"Er…You okay, Ushijima?" Jin glanced briefly to Akiko before covering his mouth as he whispered, "Need some stool softener? There're still a few packets floating around from midterms. I can hook you up."

Ushijima held up a hand. "That won't be necessary."

Jin frowned, staring at him for a moment before a realization dawned on him.

"Ah…it's the other problem then," he murmured with a sad shake of his head. "Sorry, buddy. That's rough. Don't tell me you ordered the oysters too?"

Tendou tried to mask his grin. He could see that Akiko was straightening her sweater, a strong indication that Ushijima would most certainly not be going to the restroom as he was leading everyone to believe. He would be assisting her with any tasks that required a pair of strong arms. And perhaps, something else too…

There was a reason Akiko had become so flowy romantic.

Tendou had only discovered the news for himself late last night when he went in search of Ushijima. The ace had remained downhearted since they found out Nationals was postponed, and it had worried Tendou to the point that he was convinced a late-night trip to Swan Mart was in order. He burst into Ushijima's dorm room, arms spread wide.

I SCREAM. YOU SCREAM. WE ALL SCREAM FOR ICE CREAM! He bellowed at the top of his lungs.

Four high-pitched squeals greeted him, causing him to pause. He dropped his arms.

Oh, it's the robotics team. He realized, tilting his chin. Hey guys, what's going on? Emergency meeting?

He had stumbled on a curious scene: baskets of dirty laundry were everywhere in the room, Kazuki and two other boys huddled against the window, peering at him fearfully. Their fourth member had dived under the bunkbed with his legs poking out, evidently playing opossum.

Urgh! TENDOU! Come on, man, cursed Kazuki who had spilled a mug of piping-hot tea down his front. What did we say about barging into other people's rooms unannounced?

Oops, my bad. Tendou knocked on the door retroactively. Why are you all here? Where's Wakatoshi?

You tell me, said Kazuki accusingly. He was supposed to escort us to the laundromat half an hour ago. At this rate, we'll have to wear dirty underwear for another week!

Tendou cringed. What does that have to do with Wakatoshi? He asked curiously.

Kazuki stared at him for a moment, stern.

There are very few perks of rooming with Shiratorizawa's Great Ace, you know. Very few. He glared at Tendou in a way that communicated he was the primary source of his discontent. But no matter what, Ushijima always makes time for us on Wednesday Night Laundry Night.

He helps us get the best washing machines, said one of the boys.

Yeah, while everyone's busy being starstruck by him, we get full reign of the laundromat.

I can wash my socks on the Super Deluxe setting, said the kid who was crawling out from under the bed. They come out so soft and white. He pinched his thumb and forefinger together as if commenting on a fine glass of wine.

Tendou squinted an eye. Ushijima did his laundry with the robotics team? Why was this the first he was hearing of it? What else occurred in the secret life of Wakatoshi Ushijima? Did Tendou know his best friend at all?

But he never showed up, he said, still confused.

The man's gone completely AWOL! Kazuki tossed his arms in the air. As we speak, he's somewhere running around like a lunatic!

Here he comes! He's circling back around from the park, announced the third year who was keeping watch through the window with a pair of binoculars. The boy next to him stood ready with pen and paper, a list of figures written in a neat column.

Hand me the radar gun, said Kazuki, snapping his fingers at their youngest member.

Tendou joined them at the window, observing the courtyard which was faintly illuminated by the streetlamps. A figure emerged from the darkened tree line, and he was able to make out Ushijima's swift gait. His arms and legs were pumping at a greater speed than was normal, carrying him halfway across the yard in a flash. His eyes were burning too, leaving behind streaks of olive green as he bolted across campus.

Kazuki whistled, gaping at the radar gun. 28 mph, boys! That's a new world record!

The one working pen to paper gasped in astonishment.

That calculates to nearly 8,000 Joules! That's enough kinetic energy to power a small generator.

Or a lithium battery! The first year piped up in awe. He could power our robot.

Tendou glanced to them sharply. They made Ushijima sound like a biological miracle.

My calculations show that he should be slowing down by now, but he keeps increasing in velocity, said the boy working pen to paper. Tendou was astounded with how quickly he could compute the numbers, tapping his fingers in the air as if he had an invisible abacus. The boy paused, running a hand through his curling brown hair. How is that possible?

He's a machine, uttered the third year. A human marvel.

No, whispered the first year, a god.

Tendou, what on earth happened today? Kazuki asked him, turning away from the window with a concerned look on his face. Did Ushijima eat something weird?

No…I don't think so. Tendou frowned. Why?

You tell me. What's the significance of this? Kazuki cupped fingers to his lips, then pulled them away, only to cup his lips again in bafflement. Ushijima stood in the middle of the room doing this for five minutes straight. It had me worried until he tore off into the courtyard. He's been running laps for about, he glanced at his alarm clock, two hours and thirty-seven minutes now with no signs of stopping.

Tendou frowned. Ushijima had acted normal during practice. He was still moping over Nationals, sure, lacking the usual luster that carried him through all their exercises, but the ace had parted ways shortly after practice to meet up with Akiko for dinner. They were to celebrate their three-month anniversary at a puppy café.

Tendou stopped his train of thought, cold.

Akiko.

Dinner.

Anniversary.

Eyes growing wide, Tendou grabbed Kazuki by the shoulders, pulling him so close their noses touched.

You know that thing you know we know you know that you can't talk about upon pain of death? He asked him excitedly.

The robotics team glanced between the two of them, disturbed.

Kazuki gasped, a fish out of water. What? No! I'm – I'm not falling for that! He wriggled violently, trying to push Tendou away. But a puny robotics engineer was no match for a volleyball player with arms of steel. Kazuki began to panic. The blood rushed to his face. I don't know what you're talking about! Let me go!

Tendou only grinned wider.

It's happened, Kazuki. Our Miracle Boy has done it at last!

Kazuki flailed his arms wildly.

LET ME GO! PLEASE! He begged. UNCLE! UNCLE!

Tendou leaned in and smooched Kazuki loudly on the mouth, making him splutter in disgust. Released at last, Kazuki sank to his knees, staring at the floor as if he were about to be sick. The others rushed to his side, staring at Tendou in horror.

A celebration's in order, he announced to the room. He waved to them from the open doorway. Grab your baskets. I'm taking you all to the laundromat. Super Deluxe settings on the house!

Tendou burst with joy. No wonder Ushijima was racing around the school at the speed of light.

He had shared his first kiss with Akiko.

Unbeknownst to the others, she had transformed him into a living, breathing deity. The ace had been glowing like a sun god all morning, blinding people with his divine aura. Tendou couldn't wait to see what it did to his gaming abilities on the court. Washijo was in for a real treat.

"Don't worry. We'll get this to you by this afternoon," Tendou assured Akiko as he removed one of the forms before returning her clipboard. He flashed her a charming grin. "We've got big plans for the culture festival this year."

"The hell we do," snapped their captain gruffly. "Give me the form, Tendou." He held out his hand, peering at him suspiciously. "I'm not falling for your tricks again. Come on. Pass it over."

Tendou leaned back in his chair. "Who said anything about tricks?" He took special care to sound offended. "Relax, Captain. You're still upset from earlier. Here, why don't you enjoy this roll I was saving?" Tendou slid his sushi across the table, watching in glee as nausea returned to their captain's face instantly. The roll was topped with bright orange roe, and Tendou was fully aware the texture looked distressingly similar to a pulverized amphibian spleen.

Their captain shot to his feet, turning green. "I'm gonna hurl."

Jin and Reon hastily got up to help him outside. The rest of the team watched as the three bolted for the doors leading into the courtyard. Their captain dived waist-deep into the bushes.

"Real nice," said Semi, disapproving.

Tendou took back his roll with a guilty grin. "Whoopsies. My bad." He feigned regret, going so far as to shake his head. "Don't worry. I'll hold onto this until he gets back." He placed a hand over his heart. "Scout's honor."

He proceeded to fold up the form, slipping it into his shirt pocket for safe-keeping. If he played his cards right, he'd have it filled out and returned to Akiko before anyone could say "glitter pants."

"Well then, I'll just…I'll just take the rest of these forms to the council room," said Akiko stiffly, tucking the clipboard underneath her arm. She set the glass of cranberry juice on the table. "I guess we're headed in the same direction," she said to Ushijima, careful not to make eye contact. But her downcast eyes make her look even lovelier.

"Ah."

Ushijima stood, smoothing his tie as he slid his chair neatly under the table. There was a small grunt of protest from Yamagata who was still sprawled on the floor.

The two took off across the room, keeping a certain amount of distance between them as they tried very hard to appear platonically bound in the same direction. But as they moved together, Tendou thought they made a smart match. He was filled with the sudden vision of a farm boy escorting a milkmaid through green pastures speckled in flowers. There was sunshine and a bright blue sky, nearly blinding Tendou with their perfection. When they passed through the doorway, Ushijima reached out discreetly, tangling his fingers in her long red hair.

Tendou adverted his gaze, suddenly bashful.

Good for you, Wakatoshi. I'm happy for you.

He could relax now knowing his friend was in good company.

As the thought entered his mind; however, Tendou froze, his senses tingling. Cutting his gaze across the lunchroom, he spotted a familiar pixie cut communing with the theater club. Hanamura was slipping a piece of paper toward one of the stage technicians who stuffed it into his pocket with a curt nod before leaving the cafeteria. Tendou thought he walked with a little too much purpose.

What's this? A drop-off? He mused. There was a perceptible secrecy about the whole thing.

Hanamura stood with her back to him, but as she helped herself to one of the strawberries still left on the abandoned lunch tray, she glanced over her shoulder. Meeting his gaze, she deliberately winked at him before popping it into her mouth. Then, she headed quickly towards the exit.

It was all the invitation he needed.

"Scuse me, boys," he said, scooting his chair against the tiles. He snatched Akiko's juice, downing it swiftly as he loosened his tie. He couldn't keep the grin from spreading across his face as he announced, "I have a little bird to catch."

. . . . . . .

Tendou hustled past the vending machines, past the restrooms, and past the front lobby. As he entered the stairwell, he saw a golden hand sliding up the banister on the second floor. He smirked at the sight, his eyes flickering. If he didn't know any better, he'd say Hanamura was luring him somewhere.

He bit his lip, ornery.

Ever since that night in the library, it had become increasingly difficult to catch her alone. Hanamura had turned elusive – more elusive than a fabled wind spirit or a woodland nymph. She appeared in a tumult, inciting a wild infatuation in him only to disappear shortly afterward. It was maddening. He knew she was doing it on purpose as revenge for his teasing. Always, she taunted him from afar with those heated, come-hither looks, daring him to pursue her. But when Tendou thought he had her caught at last, she would camouflage herself among others, blending into her surroundings.

If that wasn't bad enough, the article in the Shiratorizawa Chronicle had caused her fame to skyrocket as the school's resident femme fatale. Now, she had all the material in the world to work with, disguising herself like a mirage.

It was slowly driving him mad.

That's why, today, it was with a new level of desperation that he took two stairs at a time, then three, quickly working to catch up to her. Hanamura must have raced up the stairs for she was nearly a quarter of the way down the fourth-floor corridor by the time he reached the landing.

Tendou gripped the doorframe, winded.

And just where do you think you're going? He wondered. You've strayed far from your homeroom.

Hanamura glanced down the hall, then over her shoulder before approaching a classroom with a sign bearing a microphone and a gavel crossed into an X. She knocked on the door.

A girl slid it open just far enough to peek through the gap.

"Yes?"

Hanamura produced another slip of paper from her shirt pocket. "I have an appointment for this morning." She handed over the slip, asking, "is it okay if we meet early? Ms. Moriyama thinks I'm getting medicine for a headache. I'm due back in five minutes."

The girl assessed her critically. "What's the password?"

Covering her mouth, Hanamura whispered, "What people fear, we do for fun."

The girl at the door smiled. Sliding it open, she held out an arm, welcoming her inside.

"Enter, scavenger girl," she greeted her warmly. "We've been expecting you."

Smiling back, Hanamura stepped inside, the door shutting tightly behind her.

Tendou squinted an eye.

The speech team? What could she possibly need from them? He wondered. Then, it occurred to him this was possibly another attempt at leading him astray. Ever since his wild goose chase, he was aware the art club was trying to distract him with false rumors and dead-end leads. Hanamura had a whole team dedicated to thwarting him at every turn. He would have been flattered if he weren't so eager to get to the bottom of her secret.

He wandered into the hall, uncertain.

"Well now what do I do?" He sighed, scratching his head.

It was his turn to feel dejected.

The sound of excessively loud breathing caught up to him and Tendou felt his fight-or-flight instincts kick in. Chiyo had appeared, a complication he had not foreseen. Gritting his teeth, he hastily ducked into the janitorial closet, hiding his face behind the mop.

Please don't let her find me. Please don't let her find me. Tendou prayed to the heavens.

He could hear Chiyo taking another hit from her inhaler.

"Shoot. I thought I saw him go this way," she mumbled as she passed his hiding spot. "I wanted to show him the shrine I'm creating in his honor."

Tendou shivered.

Most of his fangirls had fallen to the wayside by now, admiring him from a polite distance, but nothing could shake Chiyo from her eternal devotion. He would have found her resilience admirable if it were not directed solely at him. Lately, he had been entertaining the idea of joining a witness protection program.

Better wait here until the danger passes, he decided wisely.

Tendou resigned himself to counting the ceiling tiles until the lunch bell rang.

It was then that other voices drifted into the hall.

"Principal Sato, please," Nurse Hino said in a testy voice, "you're making too great a deal about this. Suzume Hanamura is a good student. Her involvement in the art club is purely academic in nature, I assure you."

Tendou pressed himself flush against the wall, sharpening his attention on the conversation coming from the teachers' lounge. A surge of alarm filled his stomach.

"I don't like hearing these rumors of a secret operation, Nurse Hino," said the principal. Tendou edged his gaze around the corner, barely catching sight of the rotund shape of Mr. Sato peeking through the doorway. He was dressed in a soft gray suit, his hair brushed into a bouffant to cover his bald spot. His face was lined with frustration. "The last thing the School Board needs is another demonstration happening out in the courtyard. Do you have any idea how strapped we are trying to repair the damages imposed by Ms. Oshiro? The complaints keep funneling in and we're having to resort to disaster recovery among the parents who claim their children are too scared to attend her class!" Mr. Sato paused, taking a deep gulp of air. "No – I will not tolerate any further insubordination. Mrs. Osakabe and the Board will back me up on this."

"Let me be the first to remind you that I too serve on the Board," said Nurse Hino stringently, "and it was at the behest of the parents that we hire the absolute brightest teacher to helm our new science department. Sanyu Oshiro graduated with the highest honors from one of the best STEM research institutions in the country. You'd be a fool to lose her."

The principal blinked.

"She broke a student's nose! With a bowling ball!" Mr. Sato argued exasperatedly, his brow breaking out into an oily sheen. He withdrew a handkerchief from his breast pocket to mop his face. Tendou had the strong impression he was intimidated by the school nurse.

Mrs. Hino regarded him coldly.

"Yes, I know. I was the one who patched him up," she reminded him, unaffected. "It wasn't that big of a deal, honestly." She shrugged her shoulders. "The thing barely clipped him. If anything, he had a case of weak mental fortitude."

The principal spluttered. "Weak mental fortitude? You call six months of therapy weak mental fortitude? The boy has PTSD!"

Nurse Hino sighed. "She's young. Give her some time. They say it takes three years for a teacher to come into her own. Sanyu is bright and passionate. She's extremely dedicated to her students – the science club loves her."

Mr. Sato placed hands on his hips, stretching his back which made his large belly protrude.

"Yes, I suppose handling highly flammable substances is a real thrill for some," he muttered.

Nurse Hino frowned.

"I don't understand, Principal Sato. Shiratorizawa hires the best to teach the best. To remain on the cutting-edge of academia, you have to be willing to accept a small margin of risk." Nurse Hino stood with her arms crossed judiciously. "Suzume Hanamura was invited to attend our school on one of our scholarships. And now you want to hinder her efforts at doing what we invited her to do?"

"Oshiro. Hanamura. It makes no difference! I will not have the reputation of the school besmirched by a couple of well-intentioned mavericks. Some of our largest donors are coming to the culture festival this year, did you know that? Everything has to be perfect."

"Well then, I shall be the one to oversee their efforts," said Nurse Hino in a tone suitable for a CEO of a major multimillion-dollar corporation. She adjusted the golden bangles on her wrist, suddenly sharp. "Should I see anything that is concerning, I will report to you and the School Board right away, but as it stands, I think you are grievously overreacting."

The principal sighed, peering at her with a troubled look.

"Very well. Since you're so eager to volunteer," he acquiesced somewhat reluctantly, "but if I catch wind of anything that could jeopardize this school's financial endowments – and I mean anything – mark my words, you will not stand in my way."

Nurse Hino squared her shoulders.

"Of course not, sir."

With that, she left the lounge, striding to the infirmary with a foul look on her face. Principal Sato hung back, turning to a figure who stood inside the room just outside Tendou's sight.

"I want you to keep tabs on all the submission forms coming in from the Culture Festival Board. Anything that goes through the Student Government Council, that is. I want a nice, quiet, traditional event this year. No malarkey, is that understood?" He ordered firmly. "Any violators shall be banned from the event on the grounds of rule-breaking."

"And the punishment, sir?" A soft, male voice asked. It was the principal's secretary.

Mr. Sato rubbed his chin, stern.

"Suspension. From all club activities for the rest of the year," he said at last. "That should be a strong enough deterrent, don't you think?"

"Yes, sir. Very good, sir."

"Good. Now to handle this frog fiasco," said Mr. Sato with a deep sigh. "Forward all calls to my office and move my afternoon appointments to tomorrow. This is going to require some delicacy."

"Shall I make another pot of coffee, sir?"

"Please."

They headed down the hall toward the administrative offices, their footsteps gradually disappearing.

Tendou gripped the mop head, feeling his blood run cold.

He had to warn Hanamura.

A/N: Uh-oh. The stakes just rose tenfold. Can Hanamura handle the pressure? *bites fingers*

This update is coming just a few days late, and for that, I apologize. Editor-me needed to hold onto this a bit longer just to read through it with fresh eyes and make sure all the plot-points fell into place. I'll probably go back and adjust things as needed, but let's get this show on the road! What do you say?

It was immensely gratifying to finally give Akiko and Ushijima some much-needed screen time. Their romance has developed largely outside this story, so it was entertaining to imagine how Tendou might learn that Ushijima made it to first base. I cackled like a madwoman when I encountered the scene with Kazuki and the robotics team. Poor Kazuki.

"Force of Nature" – Bea Miller

"Harriet Smith and Robert Martin Meet in the Rain" – Isobel Waller-Bridge and David Schweitzer

"Odd Man Out" – Tonino Baliardo

I want to give a special shout-out to my guest reader who gave me such AMAZING, real-time feedback. I can't thank you enough for your generosity! THANK YOU SO MUCH! For me, it was like Christmas morning reading your reviews. You had me laughing and crying too. In fact, I did so much dancing in my living room this week, thank you for that. I appreciate you so much. *hugs*

I look forward to updating again real soon. Have a fantastic weekend, everyone!

Until next time,

lavendermoonmilk