Chapter Twenty-Seven
"So, what it comes down to is this: you need an advocate," said Kazane.
It was early in the morning; the girls' dormitory kitchen was buzzing with the breakfast crowd, fresh fruit and rice congee being served up at the buffet cart. Hanamura and Tashima sat on either side of Fukuhara while Isami and Makoto sat on either side of Kazane. They had chosen the table furthest from the commotion.
Though the atmosphere was cheery, Hanamura felt as if she were finally meeting the grand matriarch of the school face-to-face. She sat stiffly in her chair, unable to touch her breakfast. An intimidating aura surrounded the cheer captain, and as Hanamura studied her up close, she began to see why.
Kazane was striking. Her hair was pulled back into a dark French braid, the end resting against her shoulder and fastened with a maroon-colored ribbon. She had a sharp widow's peak that matched her equally sharp brows. The lapels of her blazer sported several academic pins marking her achievements, reminiscent of the medals worn by high-ranking officials. Kazane was decorated with several distinguished awards, some of which included Outstanding Leadership in Cheer Competition Excellence, Chief Parliamentarian of the Student Government Council, and National Fellow of Women's Press Communications in Sports Journalism.
Hanamura gulped.
It explained the gravitas that proceeded her. Kazane was a celebrated commander-in-chief.
"I'm flattered you've come to me for counsel, Noriko. Normally, this sort of thing lies outside my jurisdiction," she said, sitting like a don at the table with her hands clasped, index finger resting lightly against her lip. She was observing Fukuhara with a cool, calculated look. "But, as it so happens, I have an open roster this month." She fell silent as a cheerleader prepared a cup of tea and placed it on the table before her. Picking up the cup and saucer, Kazane leaned back in her chair. "With Nationals delayed until December and the Shiratorizawa Chronicle publishing all the drivel that's coming out from the rumor mills–" she paused, fixing Hanamura with a good-humored look "–no offense, Hanabusa."
Hanamura cracked a thin smile. "None taken."
Kazane smirked. "I find myself with little to do these days beyond training my squad in psychological warfare, but they've already surpassed the advanced stuff by now."
Makoto stretched her arms across the table, languid.
"There's only so many interrogations we can do before it's considered inhumane." She sighed, perching her chin in her hand. "And with no rival teams around to intimidate, there's nothing for us to do."
"That's not true," said Isami with a small frown. "We could always cheer during practice like we do at the scrimmage games across town. I'm sure the volleyball team's just as restless as we are." She directed this appeal to Kazane, her expression turning hopeful. "Right? I still think it's a good idea. It could break up some of the monotony."
Makoto shot her a sly glance.
"You would think that, wouldn't you?" She crooned. "Concerned about your dear, sweet libero? Afraid he's abandoned ship?"
Isami puffed her cheeks, turning red.
"He won't even look at me now thanks to you," she bit out harshly, indignant. "Every time I try to approach him, he runs away!"
"Oh…well," Makoto tapped her chin, turning playful, "that's probably because I make sure to remind him of your advice from the tournament. You know–" she mimed wielding a hatchet, making a couple of hacking motions in the air with a malicious grin " –seems to get the message across loud and clear."
Isami's jaw dropped.
"Makoto!"
"Ladies. Please," Kazane said in her deep voice. "You forget yourselves. We're in the presence of guests," she reminded them softly. Her admonishing tone caused them to drop their bickering instantly. Makoto went back to slouching in her chair, bored, while Isami stared at her lap, chastened.
Kazane sipped her tea.
"Patience, Isami. There's a protocol to these things. One must perform their due diligence when concerning the matter of male suitors," she said. "As an organization, the cheer squad protects the integrity and well-being of its members to the highest degree possible. We must make sure each suitor is of a strong, moral character. That he has ambition. That he respects and reveres women. It's important you learn this most crucial law of our cheer manifesto."
Isami peered at Kazane strangely.
"Why?"
"Because we won't always be around to protect you," said Makoto with an affectionate sisterly look. "When the time comes, you'll need to be strong for the others. They'll be looking to you for guidance on such matters."
Isami stared at her, bewildered.
"Okay…But, why me?"
Kazane patted her shoulder. "All in good time. All in good time," she said by way of dismissal. "Your suitor's aware a decision will be made in 3 to 5 business days. We're just waiting for his background check to come in clean. On all other accounts, he handled the interview well."
Makoto tsked.
"Yeah. A little too well if you ask me," she grumbled, sounding cheated. "That boot camp must have really been something this year. He didn't even so much as flinch when we asked him to explain the feminist intersectionality theory." Her eyes slivered. "That usually brings them all to their knees."
A sinister look overcame Makoto then, revealing her to be someone who enjoyed causing discomfort in others. She leaned back in her chair, cracking her knuckles menacingly.
Hanamura shared a cautious glance with Fukuhara and Tashima.
Why did this sound distressingly similar to a scene from the Godfather?
"Anyway, as you can see, we are in desperate need of work," Kazane resumed, "and it has not escaped our attention that the art club has been venturing far from the studio. Others are beginning to grow curious as well. The yearbook photographer spotted you wearing your tracksuits this week. Tracksuits."
She lifted her brows, indicating this was incredibly shocking.
Fukuhara flashed her a silver-brace smile.
"Yes, well…We're in a new line of work these days," she said furtively. "The studio is fine and all, but we're interested in exploring new terrain. We've got our sights set big this year for the festival."
Kazane returned her smile. "Big plans beget big challenges, no doubt. Which is why you've come to me."
Faltering, Fukuhara nodded.
There was a brief pause as they all resumed breakfast. Hanamura spooned her rice porridge but lacked the desire to eat. Instead, she pushed it around her bowl, wondering what the cheer captain made of their request. Though Kazane had agreed to meet with them, the enigmatic aura surrounding her made it impossible to guess what she might be thinking.
She remained quiet as she deliberated.
It was then that another cheerleader stepped forward, leaning down to whisper something discreetly in her ear. Kazane made no visible reaction, save for a quiet, "are you sure?"
The cheerleader nodded. "It's been confirmed, Captain. The principal's secretary disclosed it in a faculty email at 6:42 am this morning. I just received the dispatch."
A look of pleasure crossed Kazane's face.
"Thank you, Shizuka."
The cheerleader returned to her post, keeping watch over their meeting.
Kazane took a deep breath, meeting Fukuhara's gaze once more.
"From one club leader to another, I offer you a word of caution," she said at last. "My informants tell me some of our largest donors are planning to attend the festival this year. Budgeting has been nearly tripled so the school can dazzle and charm our benefactors out of their retirement savings. Principal Sato wants everything to be immaculate." Kazane rested her teacup on the table. "You've done well to position yourself with the marching band and theater club, but I agree you will need some political leverage moving forward…I can help you with that."
Hanamura looked up from her porridge in time to see Fukuhara brighten.
"Really? You'd do that?" She asked.
"Of course," said Kazane. "I owe you a depth of gratitude, Noriko. I haven't forgotten it was you who lent me a hair elastic during the tournament last year. Saved me a world of trouble. Everyone knows cheering with loose hair is a nightmare."
Fukuhara flushed, tugging at her own dark locks. "I…I'm surprised you remember," she said quietly.
Hanamura and Tashima looked to her, swelling with intense pride.
Their president was fiercely dependable. She was always willing to offer a helping hand, going to the nth degree for others. If anyone were to save the cheer captain from a tight pinch, it would be her.
Kazane regarded her with a warm smile.
"I should also confess that, personally, I'm sympathetic to your cause," she continued in a much friendlier tone. "It wasn't long ago I faced my own challenges when pitching my idea for the Sports Benefit. Shiratorizawa is an institution mired in tradition. Like most powerhouse schools, it doesn't take kindly to change," she said, her words drawing Hanamura's immediate attention. "I was told the Sports Benefit was too ambitious. That I should stick to my craft. That the cheer squad was reserved for official games only." Kazane leaned forward, peering at them all with a conspiratorial gleam. "But I'll let you in on a little secret. Wanna know the fastest way to start a revolution?" Her smile turned sharp. "Tell a woman she can't do something."
Hanamura felt goosebumps.
Wow. She's fantastic, she thought, instantly forming a crush. She could tell the sentiment was shared. Fukuhara and Tashima stared at the cheer captain with obvious admiration.
Kazane flicked the end of her braid over her shoulder, pushing her tea aside.
"Alright. Here's what we're going to do," she said in a low whisper, leaning forward. Everyone else followed suit, bringing their heads together. "Makoto–"
"Yes, Captain?"
"I need you to cause some interference in the rumor mills. Get them to fixate on something else. We need to draw the school's attention away from Magpie Girl. Make it good. Something juicy."
Makoto brightened significantly. "Done and done."
Isami spared a cautious glance at her vice-captain. Evidently, this was something Makoto was exceptionally skilled at. Her boredom evaporated at once, replaced with a keen fervor as she began to brainstorm. "We have a new substitute teacher who's too attractive for his own good…," she murmured thoughtfully. "Maybe I'll start there, spin some tales on how he's an alleged undercover actor, or a hand model, or maybe even a popstar…hmm…"
She grew quiet as she continued to think.
Kazane returned her attention to Fukuhara.
"As for you, Noriko – When you present your proposal to the Student Government Council, I'll be your ally in the proceedings," she said, laying a hand over her chest in oath. "This is a song and dance I happen to know extremely well. I'll teach you how to present like a politician. It's all about stage performance and implicit language. A bit of reverse psychology too." Her expression turned cunning. "When your proposal is put up for a vote, I'll remind the council of the advantages we've reaped from the Sports Benefit. The President of the SGC happens to be an old friend of mine. We ran the safety patrol unit back in kindergarten. If she votes in favor, you can count on over half the council following suit. We'll have you approved before the disciplinary committee can so much as threaten you with a level one citation. Principal Sato will be none the wiser. That, I promise you."
Fukuhara lit up, her whole face shining.
"Wow. That's…," she paused, blinking rapidly. "Thank you so much, Captain Fujiwara!"
She bowed her head in a show of deep respect.
Hanamura and Tashima shared an enthusiastic look, both appearing as if a huge obstacle had been removed from their path.
"We appreciate your generous support," Fukuhara went on to say graciously.
Kazane lifted her hands.
"Oh, I wouldn't go so far as to call it generous," she said, leaning back in her chair. She was once more cool and calculated, the tone of her voice turning crafty. "You aren't the only ones to have a secret agenda, you know." She peered at them all with a sly grin, catching them off guard. "My open schedule is purely by design. When I pitched the featurette on the boys' golf club to the school newspaper, I knew perfectly well it would get scrapped. It's obvious no one wants to read about golf – not with Magpie Girl causing such a stir."
She cut her gaze to Hanamura, and it was enough to make her gape in astonishment. Kazane meant to be rejected by the school newspaper? Then, the featurette on the boys' golf club was simply a hoax? If this was the case, then her willingness to help the art club seemed far more deliberate…as if she had anticipated this string of events to occur.
Hanamura returned her gaze, wary.
Kazane Fujiwara's reputation was never more apparent than it was at that moment. Underneath her guise as cheer captain was a dangerous master tactician.
"The first lesson you learn in politics is coercion. Nothing comes free." Kazane moved the end of her braid back over her shoulder, fingering it like the end of a whip. "I will help you maneuver the school's bureaucratic circles, but only if I may ask one thing in return." She leaned forward. "When all of this is said and done, and we're on the other end of the festival, would you permit me to tell your story? The real one," she clarified with a knowing grin, "The one about Operation Magpie."
She posed this question to Hanamura, catching her by surprise.
"I'm in the market for an editorial piece, see. Something that leaves a mark on my readers, and, coincidentally, increases my chances of getting into the university of my choice. I believe your story is worth sharing," she said firmly. "It's the kind of story Shiratorizawa needs. Something bold and different. So…What do you say, Hanamura? Would you agree to an exclusive interview with me?"
Frowning, Hanamura glanced to Fukuhara and Tashima.
"Would it be about the art club?" She asked hesitantly. "Because there'd be no operation without them. We're a team."
Fukuhara and Tashima returned her look, touched.
Kazane scoffed. "Of course. Any journalist worth their salt gives credit where credit is due. No revolutionary is without her squad. Am I right, ladies?"
Isami and Makoto nodded. "Right!"
Relieved, Hanamura beamed.
"Then, yes. We'd be honored if you told our story – as a thank you for helping us with the festival."
The tension at the table suddenly broke, and what had started as two clubs coming together to discuss business was now a newly formed alliance. Hanamura sat back in her chair, dazed. Kazane Fujiwara had agreed to help them. The cheer squad was joining in on their project.
But then it was impressed on her that this was no longer just a project.
This was a movement.
"Looks like we're teaming up, Magpie Girl," said Makoto with the zeal of a hawk that had just snatched a plump field mouse. Her amber eyes raked over Hanamura curiously, making her tense. "You're the one who keeps the Guess Monster busy, huh? The one behind all the rumors." She regarded Hanamura with open interest. "Quite the little mastermind, I hear."
Hanamura quickly grew hot under the collar, overwhelmed to be under the gazes of her upperclassmen. She was fully aware she was the youngest, greenest member at their table.
"I have my moments," she said to Makoto modestly.
The cheerleader grinned. "Oh, feisty too. I bet you put up a good fight."
Hanamura flushed.
"Akiko says you have something wonderful planned," said Isami, coming to her rescue. "If there's anything we can do to help, please don't hesitate to ask." She smiled at Hanamura. "The cheer squad's mission is to encourage greatness in others. It's what we do best."
Hanamura looked to Isami, swelling with appreciation.
"Actually, there is something you can do," she said after a moment of thought. "Would you be willing to teach us how to dance? We're in need of some choreography. Something set to music."
Isami blinked in surprise. Then, her expression turned eager.
"I believe that can be arranged."
. . . . . . . .
After breakfast, Hanamura set off across the courtyard with Tashima and Fukuhara, feeling equal parts giddy and nervous. She was giddy over the fact that Kazane had agreed to help the art club with the festival, but nervous that the school's largest donors were planning to attend the event as well. The news had come as a shock, and as she revisited Tashima's reservations from the other night, she quickly began to understand the nature of her stress.
With so many people involved and the pressure mounting, the risk of failure was becoming more and more substantial. If the art club stumbled in any way, it would be in full view of the school.
Hanamura took a deep breath, the crisp morning air filling her lungs.
She was beginning to feel it again. Despite her best efforts, fear was steadily brewing in the pit of her stomach, filling her with fresh doubt, but she reminded herself she had to be brave. The art club had made it this far. That had to count for something, right?
She tucked her chin in her scarf.
Whatever obstacles fell in their path, she had to believe they were capable of overcoming them. If Takuya Matsushida had taught her anything, it was that even in the darkest moments, there were still opportunities. She just had to be brave enough to see them.
"I can't believe it! Kazane Fujiwara agreed to help us – the Kazane Fujiwara," Fukuhara was saying in awe, her footfalls crunching over fresh-fallen leaves. "Ever since I came to Shiratorizawa, I've been a huge admirer. To think, she's going to coach me how to present. Me! This is a dream come true."
Fukuhara broke out into a dazzling grin, cupping her face in delight.
Sharing in her mirth, Hanamura turned to Tashima.
"Did you sleep well last night?" She asked her eagerly.
Tashima nodded. "I did. I even watched a cat video," she said, bewildered. "I haven't done that in ages."
She smiled at Hanamura, genuine.
"Tsubomi, Suzume, I am so impressed with you both," said Fukuhara as she rested her hands on their shoulders. She drew them to her like a mother hen with young chicks, folding them tightly under her wings. "When this whole thing started, I'll admit – I had my doubts. I thought you two would be at each other's throats. That we'd have ourselves another bloodbath." Fukuhara ruffled their hair. "But you've risen to the occasion by demonstrating excellent teamwork. Tsubomi," she said suddenly, making Tashima tense.
"Yes?"
"I'm reducing your sentence to 25 Good Deeds," said Fukuhara encouragingly. "Keep up the good work. You're really shaping up. I'm so proud of you."
Tashima's face froze in sheer bafflement.
"Oh…uh…t-thank you," she mumbled, her cheeks turning rosy. There was the barest hint of moisture at the corner of her eyes too, but she was quick to hide it behind a petulant scowl. She cleared her throat, pushing away from Fukuhara to fix her ponytail.
It was then that Hanamura realized praise from their club president meant a great deal to her.
Tashima's more of a softy than she lets on, she thought wryly.
Asano, Izakaya, and Rumi quickly caught up to them in the yard, appearing downright beleaguered. They were all hunched over with visible fatigue, bracing themselves against the cold air. Their voices carried on the wind, alerting Hanamura of strife.
"I swear to god, if your cousin calls me an uncultured swine one more time, I'll gut him like a fish!" Asano threatened, her fists swinging dangerously at her sides. She passed a small group of students lingering at the benches who were all gaping at her, appalled.
"What? What are you looking at?" She snapped, making them scatter.
Asano trudged forward with fire in her eyes.
"The nerve of that guy. Thinks he's the only authority on music, does he?" She growled. "You know what I think? I think he needs his clock cleaned!"
"Reiko, for the last time – go right ahead," Rumi encouraged her, sounding frustrated. "You wouldn't be the first person to land him in the infirmary. He's overdue for a stay, anyway. Trust me, Nurse Hino expects it every year – I'll even hold him for you."
Asano continued to grumble sourly.
"How'd your meeting go? Good?" Hanamura asked tentatively when they all met up near the shade tree. Their footsteps left dark marks in the dew-covered grass.
"If by 'good,' you mean 'willing to commit murder in cold blood,' then yes. Yes, it went very well," said Asano.
"We got him to drop those horrible synthesizers," said Izakaya in a mollifying tone. "The reggae drums too. There was that awful bit with the saxophone, but once we swapped it with the clarinets, it sounded much better." Izakaya squinted his eyes, looking like a fancy show cat that had been left out in the rain. His feathered blond hair laid flat against his forehead, his glasses perched at the end of his nose, holding on for dear life. He was exhausted.
Rumi stepped forward.
"I'd be careful though, Suzume. He plans to find you and reverse everything we pulled from the musical score. He's still threatening to walk." She rolled her eyes. "I'm afraid we'll have to pull a Carlotta and soothe him with some kind of appeasement gift."
"Like what?"
Rumi thought on that for a moment, settling on, "he likes donuts."
Hanamura turned to Tashima. "Can we add that to the to-do list?"
Tashima turned to Izakaya who flipped open his trapper keeper. Pulling a pen from his pocket, he licked the end and began to write.
"Appeasement gift…box of donuts…Carlotta," he said aloud, scrawling a note.
"Better do a baker's dozen," suggested Rumi. "All strawberry with sprinkles."
"Can we sprinkle some nightshade on one of those too?" Asano asked scathingly.
They all shared a humorous look. "How about we get a box ourselves for going to all the trouble?" Hanamura suggested by way of comforting Asano. "That new donut place finally opened up near campus, and we've been meaning to check it out. We should use those free vouchers we've been hoarding." Asano's expression changed, becoming considerably more optimistic as she thought of sweets.
"Did you have time to look at the schedule I gave you?" Tashima asked Izakaya.
"Yep. Easy peasy." He pulled out a planner from his trapper keeper and handed it back to her. "There were a few scheduling discrepancies, and I noticed you didn't set aside time for lunch or two fifteen-minute breaks, so I penciled them in and delegated some of the errands to free up your schedule." Adjusting his glasses, he pointed to the changes he made to her weekly planner. "I've also taken the liberty of prescribing you daily walks in the park for mental health. You're also to treat yourself to a latte every so often as a reward." He gave her a stern look. "There's no point in burning the candle at both ends, Tashima. This is a race of endurance, not speed."
Tashima eyed him consideringly. Izakaya's prowess as a personal assistant was becoming ever more apparent, and she shared an impressed glance with Hanamura.
See? Told you he's good, Hanamura conveyed with a satisfied look.
Tashima grinned.
"Walk with me, Izakaya," she invited him. "I want to go over today's itinerary."
Perking up, Izakaya tucked his trapper keeper underneath an arm and followed her to school.
"I'll leave you here too. Sui and her boyfriend are researching stagecraft in the library. I'll meet up with them before class. See you in club!" Fukuhara waved, practically skipping towards the main building in happiness before composing herself into a more dignified walk.
"I take it your meeting with Fujiwara went well?" Asano asked, grinning again.
Hanamura nodded. "The cheer squad's terrifying. Don't ever double-cross them. Especially Makoto."
Asano lifted her brows. "Really?"
It was then the volleyball team made an appearance, traveling across the yard from the boys' dormitories in a tight group. Tendou was among them, ambling within their ranks. He wore a heather gray hoodie underneath his blazer, the strap of his book bag draped across his chest. His head was tilted back, teeth bared in a languid smile as he spoke to Jin and Kawanishi. Hanamura's heart began to race as it always did whenever he was within her sight, the urge to flee already tightening her limbs, but as their gazes met, he simply waved to her before continuing on with his team.
Hanamura watched him go, confused.
That's weird, she thought. He's behaving unusually distant all of a sudden. Is he upset?
"Suzume, is it just me, or is he acting strange?" Asano asked with a small frown.
Hanamura glanced to her sharply. "You think so too?"
"Normally, he'd be at your heels by now." Asano pursed her lips. "Think he's finally giving up?"
Hanamura had no answer to this. Her initial impulse was to snort, a knee-jerk reaction. Everyone knew the Guess Monster was not a quitter. He saw things through to the end, come hell or high water. In this, she had learned to never underestimate him. The moment she let her guard down was the moment he would swoop in for the kill. She had to remain vigilant.
Even so, she grew troubled.
It could be a ruse. Just wait and see, she decided cautiously. Don't jump to any conclusions.
Another player caught her attention then, and she quickly broke into a small grin.
"Reiko…are we gonna talk about Shirabu?" She asked, lifting a brow.
They watched as the first-year setter strutted with a little extra oomph, running fingers through his rose-blond hair with his book bag resting over a shoulder. His handsome laugh rippled across the yard. Apparently, Semi had just said something terribly hilarious even though he was perfectly unaware of it.
Rumi smirked. "I think that qualifies as peacocking."
Asano remained aloof.
"We needn't bother. I'm playing hard to get," she said, pretending she didn't see him.
When Hanamura and Rumi both looked to her for an explanation, she turned sheepish.
"Look, a relationship's a lot of work, okay? And I have big plans this year," she said defensively. "Seeing the way you and Akiko have to juggle it all makes me hesitate to jump into something myself." She paused, cutting her gaze to Shirabu from underneath her lashes. A quiet curiosity softened her expression. "Though…I suppose if he were to convince me he's worth the trouble, I might reconsider…"
She was once more foxlike.
"I never tore up that drawing from the scrimmage match, by the way," she confessed to them at last. "I just wanted to see how he'd react. Takashi says he's been asking questions on the kind of podcasts I listen to, what foods I like best – what to do in the presence of a poltergeist." She grinned. "I thought that was sweet."
Hanamura and Rumi shared a brief glance.
"Anyway, I'm not saying no," said Asano, "but I'm not saying yes either. I'm just…going with the flow."
With that, she resumed her trek to the school, her wool purse bobbing against her hip.
"Sometimes I think she's so used to pulling strings for others, she doesn't know how to do it for herself," said Rumi with rare insight. "If I get her to duke it out with Ryu, then maybe she'll relax enough to explore her own emotional needs."
Hanamura turned to her. "Punching your cousin's that cathartic, huh?"
Rumi laughed.
"You'll have to ask Fujiwara. She gave him the honors during their first year."
. . . . . . . .
All festival and relationship business was quickly set aside as they fumbled their way through another week of midterms. Hanamura was relieved to discover that this round was not nearly as emotionally taxing as the first, but then again, she had a proper study group to field questions and swap notes this time. It was also an added benefit to know the culture festival served as a light at the end of the tunnel. All classes would be canceled for an entire week to allow time for preparation.
As the days carried on; however, it continued to trouble Hanamura that Tendou remained so distant. He no longer had time to chase after her, too absorbed in his own coursework. Though he still waved to her and had the occasional conversation with her in the halls, his sudden remoteness was enough to cause her concern. Had her revenge for his teasing gone too far? Was it possible she had hurt his feelings by not telling him her secret?
As she thought on it more, maybe she had upset him by remaining so elusive herself. In the beginning, she had simply wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine. Mess with him like he messed with her. But his sudden aloofness made her wonder if her revenge had backfired.
Tendou continued to make himself scarce as the week slowly drew to a close. On the rare occasions she found him out in the halls, he was often conversing with his teammates. They seemed worried about something. They started meeting in front of their lockers, discussing something with shared expressions of concern. On Wednesday, she spotted Tendou traveling the corridors alongside Coach Washijo and was surprised to hear him delivering the punchline to a joke.
"When I was a kid, my mom told me I could be anyone I wanted to be," said Tendou with a lopsided grin. "Turns out, identity theft is a crime."
Washijo walked with hands clasped behind his back, his expression stony.
"Why did the old man fall into the well?" Tendou asked him next, pausing for a moment. Washijo gave him a long-suffering look. "Because he couldn't see that well!"
Washijo merely grumbled, but Tendou pressed on, swinging his legs wide.
"I have a couple more goodies. Why didn't the melons get married? They cantaloupe."
"What did the fisherman say to the magician? Pick a cod, any cod."
"How do you plan a space party? You planet."
"What does a baby computer call his father? Data."
A belligerent grin began to spread across Washijo's face despite his attempt at remaining absolutely dour. The corny jokes were slowly chiseling through his iron-clad exterior. He gave Tendou a caustic side-glance.
"Keep it up, boy, and I'll give you a hundred jump serves this afternoon," he threatened.
Tendou patted him on the shoulder.
"There you go. That's much better. Quiet-Tanji is so much scarier than threatening-Tanji," he said. "We need you to be more vocal, Coach. The team's worried about you. Saito too. Don't get all down in the dumps on us, okay?"
Washijo sighed, reaching up to place a hand on Tendou's back. The act was surprisingly paternal.
"Tell me some more jokes then," he said through clenched teeth, "they infuriate me."
Tendou flashed him a charming grin. "Happy to do so, sir."
They continued down the hall, making a most unusual pairing.
Hanamura wasn't the only one to feel the effects of Tendou's sudden withdrawal. On Thursday afternoon in the brief space between class and club activities, she thought for sure he was shadowing her in hot pursuit. She was laden with a heavy backpack full of supplies and was making the trek from the first floor to the studio. A can of spray adhesive fell from her pack and rolled down the stairs. She quickly turned to retrieve it when she was faced by a tall figure.
"Dropped something?" Tendou asked, holding up the spray can. He was staring at her with one of those enigmatic smiles. It made the little hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
She took it from him gingerly.
"Oh…Thank you," she said, taking a step back.
His eyes flickered, his expression cool.
"You're welcome."
The stairwell was busy with foot traffic, but she didn't dare trust him. His expression was calm, but his gaze was saturated with danger. Turning around, she hastily sped to the fourth-floor corridor. She ducked into the nook beside the water fountain and stood flush against the wall. There, on the opposite side of the hallway standing like a sentinel was Chiyo.
Is he coming? She mouthed eagerly.
Hanamura nodded.
They stood ready, this routine of theirs well-thought-out by now. They had struck up this unlikely symbiotic relationship weeks ago when Hanamura was in need of a diversion. As they waited there in the hall, the minutes continued to pass with no Guess Monster in sight.
Hanamura shared a confused glance with Chiyo.
What's the matter? Isn't he coming? She conveyed in her intense, unblinking way.
Hanamura hunched her shoulders.
He was behind me a second ago, she mouthed while pointing to the stairwell.
Chiyo tilted her head in disappointment. Without Tendou, their game of 'rabbit, fox, hound' was missing the essential glue that made them stick. At this rate, they were a sandwich with no bologna.
Well, if it's all the same to you, I think I'll go find him anyway, Chiyo hand-signed next, walking her fingers down an imaginary staircase. She took a hit from her inhaler before setting off in search of Tendou.
Hanamura watched her go, slumping against the wall, disheartened.
Something was definitely wrong.
As she attended club that afternoon, Hanamura sat listlessly on the windowsill near Asano's workstation, her mind spanning in and out of focus. She sighed as she rested her cheek against the cool glass, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her painting smock. Every so often, her gaze would linger on the gym doors, a ping of worry nudging at her incessantly.
"So for the costumes, I was thinking we should go with something monochrome," Asano was saying as she consulted the sketches she laid out across her table. She had drawn several croquis in black and white attire, but she was staring at them critically as she tapped a pencil against her lips. "We should keep the silhouette clean, no loose fabric, something athletic. But it still needs to be super chic."
She tossed aside two of the sketches, concentrating on the one of a catsuit. Her desk was littered with several fabric scraps, and she laid these over the sketch.
"The question is – do we go with satin or something in matte?"
Hanamura sighed as she hugged her knees to her chest.
"Whatever's easiest, I guess."
It was then that Yamada arrived with her boyfriend in tow. They each held a large, pink box and presented them like trophies.
"Who wants a donut?" Yamada announced brightly. "We stopped at the new bakery and picked up a couple of samplers. Thought this would be a nice way to help get us through our last few tests tomorrow."
Everyone exclaimed in joy.
"I can take this over to the band director," offered her boyfriend, holding the other box.
Yamada kissed him on the cheek. "Remember what I said. Don't make eye contact, keep your words to a minimum, and whatever you do – don't let him get inside your head. The best thing is to get in and out as quickly as possible. Okay?"
Her boyfriend blinked. "Er…on second thought, maybe you should–"
"Thanks, honey! Go get 'em," Yamada said lightly in a sing-song voice, patting him on the back. She turned to set her box on the worktable, leaving him to his mission.
He shuffled from the room, anxious.
"Oh wow! You got one of every flavor," Izakaya exclaimed with wide eyes. He set down his turtle totem pole, freshly fired from the kiln in a green raku glaze. It sat majestically on the table, as he removed his mittens to grab an apple fritter.
Hanamura joined them, choosing a chocolate one for herself before returning to her perch on the windowsill. She nibbled on it feebly, but as it turned out to be rather good, she took larger bites until her cheeks were full. The flavor tasted rich on her tongue, assuaging her heartache somewhat.
But the donut turned to instant ash in her mouth the moment she caught sight of the gym doors opening. The volleyball team was filing outside in one large group. They looked to be escaping a gruesome practice. Whatever fury Tendou had inspired in Washijo the other day had translated into an intense workout. Their faces were red and glistening, their shirts dark with sweat at the collar. When Tendou strolled out behind the others, he pinched the back of his shirt and tugged it over his head.
Hanamura choked.
All the muscles she had memorized by touch were on full display, rippling in the evening sun as he knitted hands behind his head in a deep stretch. The body of an athlete was a finely-made machine, she thought. Every muscle was perfectly assembled like the inner workings of a clock. As Tendou moved at a slow, leisurely gait, she couldn't help but notice the way his spine flexed from side to side. It was supple, graceful. Brimming with unchecked power.
The sight made her face sting.
That's not fair, she thought with a loud snort through her nose. He shouldn't be allowed to do that.
As if sensing her scrutiny, Tendou lifted his gaze up at the school, his eyes landing on the studio windows. Hanamura jolted, nearly slipping from her perch on the sill. Wait. He can't see me from up here, right? She thought frantically. Aren't the windows tinted in the daylight?
The subtle smirk on his face said otherwise.
"What are you gawking at now?" asked Asano.
"N-Nuffin!" Hanamura forced through her mouthful of donut.
Asano peered out the window. Her eyes glowed with shock before narrowing into slits.
"Oh…Oh, he's playing dirty," she said, patting Hanamura on the shoulder. "That should be an illegal move. I'm so sorry, Suzume. Here. Have mine." She placed another donut in her hand, saying, "the chocolate helps."
Hanamura sighed.
She could eat all the sweets in the world and still feel deprived.
. . . . . . .
Friday arrived, at last, signaling the end of midterms. Mrs. Osakabe wrapped up the week with a chilling lecture on the repercussions of poor test preparedness, giving everyone in Hanamura's homeroom enough anxiety to cause a mass outbreak of stomach ulcers. But before they could languish in fear for too long, they encountered Nurse Hino handing out fruit-flavored vitamins in the hall.
"Here, take two, Hanamura. I don't want to see you catching your death again," said the nurse as she handed her a couple of vitamin-C packets. "In fact, take a few more. You can pass them out to your friends later." She stuffed a handful into Hanamura's schoolbag. "Is your family still coming to the festival?" She asked suddenly.
Hanamura looked up, nodding. "Yes. My teacher, Mrs. Yamauchi, is too."
Nurse Hino smiled. "Good. I look forward to meeting them," she said warmly. "Your parents sounded so nice on the phone when I spoke to them last term. We'll show them how much you've grown in the short time you've been away, hmm?"
Nurse Hino nudged her gently on the shoulder, winking.
Hanamura was grateful for her newfound friendship with the school nurse. It had not escaped her notice that Mrs. Hino and Ms. Moriyama had struck up an arrangement to keep tabs on her during the school year. Though her homeroom teacher remained difficult to approach, Hanamura was comforted to know she could rely on the nurse and librarian for help. She watched as Mrs. Hino continued down the hall, her sharp perfume lingering in the air long after she left.
"So, what's this big meeting you have scheduled for us today?" Asano asked as she chewed on her cherry-flavored vitamins. Izakaya joined them, looking relieved to be done with testing. He was glowing with post-exam bliss.
"You know those calculations Tashima and I have been struggling with?" Hanamura asked. "The ones for the experiment? Well, Rumi and I were discussing it late last night in the dorms, and I think we found the solution to our problem."
Asano and Izakaya both raised their brows in surprise.
"Well that's good news," said Izakaya brightly. "Have you told Tashima yet?"
Before Hanamura could respond, a cold, brittle voice broke out in the hall, filling them with instant dread.
"OI. TRASH GIRL! I DEMAND A WORD WITH YOU!"
Hanamura flinched. "Oh no," she groaned.
They saw a tall, dark figure cutting through the first years who were all standing dazedly near the windows. Chiyo was smack dab in the middle of the hall, gawking at him with her large, protuberant eyes, but Ryu simply shoved her aside, holding his baton in one hand, his other pointing straight at Hanamura.
"Don't think a box of stale sweets is going to get you off the hook so easily! I demand justice!"
"Crap, I didn't think he'd actually come find you." Asano looked alarmed. "You better hide quick! We'll hold him off. Come find us when it's safe."
Hanamura looked to her and Izakaya in concern. "But – What about you guys?"
"Don't worry. So long as he doesn't talk to you, he can't have the changes we made to the score reversed. Just get out of here!" Asano urged her with a small shove. "I'll beat him with my purse if I have to. Hop to it!"
Izakaya took his stance beside Asano, using his trapper keeper as a shield.
Hanamura had no choice. Gritting her teeth, she nodded. "Alright. I'll catch up to you guys soon," she promised as she took off in the opposite direction from the band director.
"Wha – Hey! DON'T YOU DARE RUN AWAY FROM ME," Ryu shouted as he hastened down the hall. "COME BACK HERE, DUMPSTER BIRD! THIS ISN'T OVER YET!"
Hanamura did her best to ignore the startled glances from her classmates as she darted into the stairwell and climbed to the fourth-floor corridor. She headed straight for the speech clubroom, bursting through the door and sliding it shut behind her.
"I'm so sorry to barge in like this," she blurted, combing fingers through her hair. She let her backpack fall to the floor as she braced a hand against her hip to catch her breath. "I hope you don't mind if I hide in here for a few minutes. Hara's on the rampage again."
As she entered the room, she stopped, surprised to find it completely empty.
That's strange. The lights are on. Where is everyone?
She froze, feeling instant fire running up her spine.
"Oh, I don't mind," said a smooth voice behind her. "Not in the slightest."
Whipping around, Hanamura was confronted with an idle Guess Monster. He was leaning against the door, the one she had shut only seconds ago, arms crossed over his chest, head bowed, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled all the way up to his biceps. He had a smile on his face, but it could hardly be called friendly. He was dark and triumphant.
"Hullo champ," Tendou greeted her.
The threat in his voice made her pulse race. She instantly seized up with adrenaline.
"Satori." She cast her gaze about the room again, narrowing her eyes. "Where's the speech team?"
She sounded as if she were really asking What have you done to the speech team?
His eyes flickered, catching her drift.
"Away on a three-day competition. They made it into the national semi-finals." The corners of his mouth lifted. "Which leaves you here – alone – with me," he drawled lightly.
Hanamura swallowed.
"Oh."
They stared at each other for a moment, smiling falsely.
Then, instincts kicking in, she flung herself behind the teacher's podium – anything to put a barrier between them. She reached down to grab the gavel resting on the inside shelf but found it missing. Shoot! They must have taken it with them, she cursed. She had half a mind to toss it to create a diversion, but she was left with a small cup of paper clips and a stress ball. She held them both up, flummoxed.
Tendou hummed.
"Whatcha gonna do now, MacGyver?" He arched a brow. "Paper clip me to death?"
Scowling, Hanamura chucked the stress ball at him, intent on bolting for the door the moment he flinched, but Tendou merely caught it in his fist, holding it like an apple.
"Nuh-uh. You're gonna have to come up with something much better than that," he taunted, tossing it between his hands. "No sneak attacks this time either," he added, noticing she was reaching for her slipper.
Shoot. Shoot. Shoot.
Hanamura stepped away from the podium, putting several more desks between them. At the very least, she could maintain a certain distance. If he got any closer, she was done for. Unfortunately, this thought seemed to cross his mind too for Tendou chose that precise moment to step away from the door.
"You're trapped at last, Magpie Girl. There's nowhere for you to run."
Hanamura smiled to hide her nerves.
"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that," she said, feeling blindly behind her. "I still have a few tricks up my–" she whacked her heel against a metal chair, making her face screw up tight "–sleeve," she finished weakly.
She hopped on her good foot for a moment before making a sudden dash for the door that opened into the next-door classroom.
"Locked," said Tendou.
She turned and headed for the closet in the corner of the room.
"Also locked."
Hanamura stopped, feeling truly trapped. She puffed air through her cheeks, flustered.
"You planned this," she accused him.
Tendou smirked.
"Now to make it look like no one's in here," he said with a flash of his eyes.
He flipped the light switch off with a flick of his finger and the classroom went dark. The blinds at the windows cast him in black bars, turning him into a ghostly specter. As he approached her, Hanamura broke out into a hot flush as she was presented with his most devilish version yet. The air was ripe with tension, the darkness doing little to obscure the red-hot chips of garnet pinning her in place. He strolled forward, taking his time as he did so.
"Okay, okay. I can explain," she began, raising her hands in goodwill. "I see you're upset."
His smile turned hungry. He was amused by her sudden attempt at peacemaking.
"I really must commend you, Suzume. No one has gone to such great lengths to outsmart me. I haven't had this much fun in ages." He threw his hands out, flexing his fingers. The light in his eyes glimmered, turning feral. "But even I have to admit our little game is starting to get…irksome."
The sudden drop in his voice gave Hanamura shivers. She was in trouble. Deep, deep trouble.
Taking a few steps back, she was filled with a thousand racing thoughts at once, but they all collided into an incoherent mess as her pulse continued to pound incessantly in her ears. Fire pooled in her stomach, and she quickly lost track of her surroundings. The only thing she could fixate on was Tendou, and he was weaving through the desks, shortening the distance between them.
"You've proven to be extremely resourceful," he went on to say. "It took me a while to catch on that you were using the speech club as a safehouse. That Chiyo was always conveniently around when I tried to catch you in the halls. You had to find ways to travel around the school unencumbered. Keep me guessing." Tendou stooped low, his eyes intent. "But you should know there are no safe havens. Not when it comes to someone like me. It was only a matter of time before I discovered your strategy and used it to my advantage."
Hanamura stared at him, unable to keep the small grin from spreading across her face.
"I thought you gave up," she said, sounding pleased. "I thought you finally threw in the towel."
Tendou straightened, his expression flashing with shock.
"Me? Give up?" He threw his head back, laughing. "That was your first mistake."
By now, Hanamura had lost her bearings completely. The back of her legs connected with a desk and she stumbled against it, spilling across the surface. Her small blunder was all he needed to act. Tendou pounced, closing the gap between them in the blink of an eye. Hanamura raised a foot in a half-hearted attempt to keep him back, but he simply nudged it aside as he moved closer, crouching with hands planted firmly on the desk on either side of her.
Hanamura fell back against her palms, trapped.
"It's time to give in, Suzume," he said, peering down at her. "I've caught you fair and square. No more tricks, no more diversions. Tell me your secret."
She struggled to find her voice. His rosemary scent was doing funny things to her insides.
"No!" She argued, feeling her face grow hot. She placed a hand on his chest, applying pressure. "I've already told you – It's a surprise! You love surprises."
Tendou retracted slightly. "When they're for other people, sure. I don't like being left in the dark."
"Too bad, so sad," she said, trying to wrestle free. She grabbed one of his fingers and tried to lift his hand up from the desk. "It's for me to know and you to find out."
Tendou scoffed in disbelief.
"What do you think I'm doing here, champ?"
He reached up and cupped her jaw, running his thumb lightly against her throat. His face was mere inches from hers, and she collapsed under his strong gaze. His intentions were clear. He was going to seduce it out of her; weaken her until she gave in. The thought gave her butterflies.
He was so close and there was so much of him. His body blocked her view of the door, her vision swimming in the tight folds of his dress shirt, his Adam's apple, the dangerous slant of his mouth. His heat enveloped her, making it impossible to pull away. A magnetic force tugged her closer.
"You…You'll never break me," she vowed, her tone hardly inspiring conviction.
Tendou issued a pleasant hum that vibrated through her bones.
"Wanna bet?"
Her grip on his chest grew slack, and through the soft cotton and warm muscle, she could feel his heart pounding like a battle drum. He was so real and raw and right in front of her.
Her resolve began to waver.
"The principal knows a secret operation's underway," he whispered, grazing his mouth against her cheek. "He's worried about another courtyard demonstration–" he kissed her neck, the spot just below her ear "–I heard your name brought up in the teachers' lounge–" another kiss against her jaw "–Nurse Hino stepped in on your behalf."
"What?" Hanamura had difficulty paying attention. His other hand had slipped under her blazer, his fingers splaying firmly against the small of her back. She was certain she had it buttoned just a second ago. Had he undone the catches that fast? The thought was erroneous. His mouth was at her ear now, filling it with hot breath. She melted into his touch.
"You have powerful allies, Magpie Girl," Tendou continued in a rough whisper. "You'd have even more if you simply let me in on your secret…I can help you."
Hanamura stilled, hearing the new tension in his voice.
"Wait…The principal mentioned me by name?" She asked, pulling back just far enough to catch his gaze.
Tendou was shadowed with conflict.
"He knows you're up to something. He's having his secretary keep tabs on all festival business. Any rule-breakers are faced with suspension from club activities."
Hanamura frowned. "Suspension?"
"For the rest of the year."
She fell silent, her gaze dropping as she took in this new information. How did the principal know about Operation Magpie? How did he know she was the main architect behind it? Did this mean the art club had been compromised? Had someone gone and blabbed to the school administration? That was impossible. Akiko would have said something long ago if their secret had been breached in any way. She was their first lifeline against any outside threat.
Hanamura gripped his arms, suddenly troubled.
"Are you afraid?" He asked her softly.
She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze. It took her a moment to speak.
"I am," she confessed at last. "But…I can't let that get in the way." She shook her head. "Not now."
"Suzume," he pleaded with her, resting his forehead against hers, "I don't want to see you get hurt."
His words caused a sudden jerk behind her navel. He spoke with a rare, unyielding tenderness and it caught her by surprise. He was worried.
"I won't," she assured him, moving her hands up his arms to cup his face. "I'm not alone this time. I have a team. We're in this together, no matter what happens. I can't let them down."
"I'm not asking you to," he replied. "All I'm asking is for you to let me help."
Hanamura closed her eyes, resting her cheek against his.
How to explain this to him? What words could capture this powerful urge to rise up, to keep pushing herself beyond her limits? Even in light of these newfound obstacles, the desire to press onwards was growing more and more imperative. She had to prove herself.
She kissed his temple.
"The thing about rivals, Satori, is that the really good ones are considered equals. They stand on level ground," she said quietly, feeling the conviction stirring in her again. "You've shown me what you're capable of – what you can do, so…now it's my turn. I want to show you what I'm capable of too."
His fingers ran through her hair, coming to rest at the nape of her neck.
"You don't have to prove anything to me."
Hanamura frowned. She was transported right back into her family's yard, sitting against the persimmon tree under an infinite black sky. She had been filled with an overwhelming desire to change, to become the person she was truly meant to be. But she knew that courage had to be earned in her own right. There were no shortcuts, no easy paths, but it was the only way to reclaim that which she had lost in herself. Trust.
Pulling back, she met his gaze again, her resolve unflinching.
"I know, but I need to do this for myself."
Tendou withdrew, his brow creasing. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off rudely by the sudden sound of terrible recorder music. It filled the room, the sound so garish and so unexpected, they both glanced to her backpack which was lit up from the inside by her cell phone. It continued to ring for a solid minute, which, in her mind, felt like an eternity. Someone from the art club was trying to contact her, and she cursed herself for not switching it to silent mode. Tendou's face went completely blank. She felt the hand at her back claw into her shirt as he drew it into a tight fist.
"Is that…," he dragged his gaze back to her, "the sound of betrayal I hear?"
The recorder wheezed, causing her to flinch.
She let out a nervous laugh.
"I thought it was cute."
Tendou tightened his hold of her waist, drawing her forward, yet at the same time, his other hand gripped the edge of the desk behind her, forcing her back onto her elbows. His face was still cast in black bars, yet a thin strip of evening light cut across his eyes which were now the darkest shade of red she had ever seen. Darker than a bruised plum. He had an expression of mixed pleasure and malice, his mouth relaxing into a smile she had never seen before. It had the power to strip away everything, leaving her perfectly exposed.
"Boy…that fire of yours is something else," he murmured. "I haven't come across anyone like you before."
He surveyed her for a moment before stating, "I was going to honor your wishes as a gentleman but seeing as treason's now on the table–" his eyes flashed wickedly. He sucked on a molar, making a sharp sound at the back of his mouth "–I suppose I have no choice but to kiss you until you start talking."
Hanamura's stomach lurched in reaction to his words, and she bubbled over with barely-contained excitement. The worry was gone from his voice, and it gladdened her that know he trusted her but wasn't going to back down from her challenge. He leaned in and it was all she could do to blink before she was struck by an idea.
"Or," she said, drawing out the syllable in a thick, honeyed lilt, putting every fiber of her mountain accent into that single word so that it curled like a plume of smoke. Tendou paused. "How about I kiss you to keep from talking?" She took hold of his tie, lightly skimming her fingers over the soft material until she arrived at the knot at his neck. She gripped it, tugging sharply. At the same time, she hooked a leg around his knee to hold him in place. With her mouth just below his, she whispered, "How does that sound?"
Tendou's face turned very dark and hazy. He peered at her as if she were too bright to look at all at once. The muscles in his jaw danced, and she watched with satisfaction as the knot in his throat bobbed. He was caught between a rock and a hard place with nowhere to go.
"I didn't think you had it in you to be cruel," he said at last, sounding simultaneously bewildered and delighted. There was the slightest rasp. His mouth had gone dry.
Hanamura hummed pleasantly.
"Cruel? I want what you want." She fidgeted with his tie. "I want to have my cake and eat it too. Is that so evil?"
His nose wrinkled.
Gauging by his look, yes. Yes, it was incredibly evil and he loved it.
He set his teeth against his bottom lip, his canine sinking deep at the corner.
"Seems we've reached an impasse," he said, tracing her mouth with his eyes. "In volleyball, we'd be entering what's called a deuce of despair."
"What's that?"
His eyes continued roving over her body.
"Both teams vie for the final match point until someone's defeated."
Hanamura quirked her brows. "Sounds exciting. I would think the same rules apply here, wouldn't you?"
That unusual smile was back. It spread across his face, thin and sharp like the edge of a blade. It promised danger of the best kind, making her insides tremble.
"The first person to break away loses," he said.
She took a breath, filling her lungs to capacity. "On your mark…get set…GO!"
The door to the classroom ripped open, sending a black shadow shooting across the floor. Izakaya stood in the doorway, squinting into the darkness. The shaft of light from the hallway illuminated their close proximity, and upon spotting them, he quickly clamped his eyes shut as though he had stared directly into the sun.
"MY EYES!" he cried out, slapping hands to his face.
Tashima was quick behind him. "What? What is it?"
Izakaya pointed blindly at them. "Suzume…She's – She's cavorting with the enemy!"
Peering into the classroom, Tashima gasped.
"Bunker 4 has been compromised. Do you copy? Bunker 4 has been compromised." She spoke quickly into her phone before shutting it off. She flicked the lights back on before stomping into the classroom. "For heaven's sake! Hands off, you insufferable miscreant!" She batted Tendou's arms away from Hanamura, disentangling her from his grasp. "She's ours until after club." She huffed, sending a strand of blonde hair floating in front of her face. "I really didn't want to have to resort to this, but you've given me no choice – Izakaya, deploy the repellent!"
"The what?" Hanamura and Tendou said together.
Izakaya held up a squirt bottle and proceeded to spritz Tendou like a badly-behaved pet.
Tendou shut his eyes, hissing.
"Gah! What is that?"
"Lemon juice, essence of pepper, and water," said Izakaya, shaking the bottle. "Proven to repel most pests. Natural and garden-friendly."
Tendou recoiled, rubbing his eyes against his arm as he fell back against another desk.
Hanamura was squinting her own eyes, filled as they were with the flaring nostrils and sparking temper of her partner. Tashima was gripping her blazer, shaking her furiously.
"For crying out loud, Hanamura. You little flirt!" She snapped waspishly. "I turn my back on you for one second and you go jumping straight into trouble! Have you no shame? Come on. We've got work to do. Izakaya, cover us."
Izakaya held up the squirt bottle like a firearm, causing Tendou to raise his hands in surrender as they slowly backed out of the room.
"I'd sleep with one eye open tonight if I were you, Takashi," he threatened menacingly.
Izakaya tensed but held his position. "Don't move or I'll shoot."
Hanamura too was rendered powerless as she was dragged away by the scruff of her jacket, looking just as forlorn as a cat on a leash. But as she caught gazes with Tendou one last time, she flashed him a dark, triumphant grin; the smarmiest, smuggest look she could muster. She was overflowing with arrogance. Thick with self-righteous delight. When he returned her look with obvious confusion, she lifted her fist, displaying her prize in the bright light of the hallway. The voices of the broadcasters from the Interhigh tournament were suddenly in her ears, commentating on her sweeping victory:
By Jove, ladies and gentleman – I don't believe this! Magpie Girl has done it again!
She's hijacked this hijacking–
Marauded the marauder–
Outfoxed the fox–
Never in all my years have I seen such a daring move as this! Swiped from the red devil himself!
Tendou shot a hand to his neck.
Little did he know that she had kept her hands busy, tugging on his tie here and there, working the knot loose until it slipped free from his collar. She waved it high in the air, breaking into a victorious smile.
"3 to 3," she mouthed.
The last thing she saw was his look of astonishment as she was yanked through the door.
. . . . . . . .
The rest of the art club stood gathered at the stairwell, looking rather pleased with themselves as Tashima and Izakaya escorted Hanamura down the hall moments later.
"Well? Did she talk?" Asano asked Tashima, her mouth twisting into a wry smirk. They were all regarding her as if she were a soldier who had been liberated from enemy capture.
Hanamura flushed.
"No, the threat was neutralized before that could happen, thank goodness," said Tashima crisply. "What about Hara?"
"Still picking wool out of his teeth, no doubt," said Asano, smoldering slightly. "I landed a couple of good swings before he retreated. Saw to it that Chiyo was avenged."
"Is she okay?" Hanamura asked worriedly.
"She's fine," Asano assured her. "More importantly, are you okay?"
Hanamura was brimming with adrenaline, having narrowly escaped Tendou's clutches with her secret still untouched. Her body was drowsy, but her mind was unusually sharp. The tables had turned in her favor, and the sudden powerplay had left her teeming with confidence.
Hanamura presented Asano with his tie, grinning broadly. "More than alright."
Asano lifted her brows. "Wow. That's impressive, Suzume. You're really taking the whole femme fatale thing to heart, aren't you?"
"Anyway," snapped Tashima, clearing her throat to signal they had better things to focus on at that moment, "I'm told you found a solution to our problem. Something about how you and your roommate talked last night? You know how to fix our calculations."
Fukuhara and Yamada glanced to her sharply. "Really? You do?"
Hanamura slipped her backpack onto her shoulders, stowing away the tie for safekeeping.
"No, but I know someone who can," she answered eagerly. "Come on. Follow me."
She set off into the stairwell and everyone moved to follow her, Izakaya bringing up the rear with the squirt bottle handy just in case the Guess Monster decided to traipse after them in revenge. By now, the light at the windows had faded into a dark crimson, casting the stairs in shadow. Hanamura felt adventure in the air, the kind of adventure that only came out in the waning light of autumn. Her stomach coiled with excitement as she led her friends through the school.
"So, it turns out our problem is not a problem at all, " she said as she descended the stairs. "Rumi helped me realize that what we've been trying to do is create an environment where everything is controlled, but–" she shook her head with a smile "–what we really need to be doing is figuring out how to work ourselves into the mix. We're the control variable."
There was a moment's pause.
"I'm not following you," said Tashima, frowning. "Are you suggesting we abandon the calculations altogether?"
"No, no. That's not what I mean at all," Hanamura assured her, keen. "What I'm saying is…to solve our problem, we have to consult someone who's good at operating in a certain type of environment… Someone who knows how to manipulate danger."
Hanamura drew to a sudden halt in front of a classroom on the second floor. There, the art club faced a nondescript white door, Tashima staring at it blankly before all the color drained from her face at once.
"No," she breathed, dragging hands down her face in horror. "No, no, no, no, no…!"
She backed away, but before she could turn her terrified eyes on Hanamura, the door slid wide open, revealing a host of students dressed in white lab coats, their faces appearing sinister behind their plastic safety goggles. At the center of their group stood a tall, willowy Ms. Oshiro, her hair loose and frizzy like the head of a dandelion. She was wearing her customary yellow sundress, and in her hands, she was cradling a shiny red bowling ball.
"Hi. I hear you all need some help with an experiment," she said brightly, "a dangerous experiment."
The science club broke out into ominous smiles behind her.
"Come into the lab. We've got something to show you."
A/N: Dun Dun Duuuuuun...Did you see that coming? :D
"The Gala Plan" – Daniel Pemberton
"NYC Larceny" – Daniel Pemberton
"My Heart Will Go On" – Terrible Recorder Meme (you will not be disappointed)
"Incredible" – Oh The Larceny
Thank you so much for sticking with me on this suspenseful ride! So many of you are catching on to what Hanamura has planned for the festival, and that has me so excited. That means the reveal is going to be that much sweeter when it finally arrives. The next chapter is something I've been eager to write since the very beginning, so I can't wait to bring you another update soon.
By the way, your reviews absolutely make my day. You have me cracking up! I think you should all quit your day jobs and become full-time critics because your reactions are so wonderful to read. Did you get seared by all the heat this chapter? I hope it gets you through another week of grueling coursework, but if not, you have my permission to treat yourself to a latte Takashi Izakaya-style. You deserve that whipped cream and extra sprinkles. I love you guys!
Thank you so much for reading,
lavendermoonmilk