Chapter Thirty-One
"Explosive?" Nurse Hino swiveled in her chair, abandoning her chart notes as she peered at Hanamura and Rumi over the rim of her glasses. A curl of hot steam rose from her coffee cup, framing the look of keen interest on her face. "All four of them, you say?"
They nodded.
"Yes, ma'am."
"I'm afraid so, ma'am."
"It's a real tragedy, ma'am," said Rumi forlornly.
Hanamura nudged her foot, warning her not to take it too far. Now was not the time for sarcasm. Nurse Hino might be sympathetic to their cause, but even she would hesitate in writing up four fraudulent excuses if she knew what they were really up to. They couldn't afford to slip up. They needed alibis.
The art club had discussed it at length over the weekend in the apartment above Swan Mart.
Right, so…The Plan. Tashima swept her arm across the table, making room for a map of the school grounds. Everyone grabbed their notebooks, prepared to take notes.
What we're about to attempt is no cakewalk, that's for sure, she began as she rolled up her sleeves. We've got exactly six days to secure council approval, finish our project, and install everything in the courtyard in time for the festival on Saturday. She paused, taking a breath. We have to do all this without getting caught by the disciplinary committee too.
So, it's true then, said Izakaya. They're taking over the school. Do we know this for sure?
Asano nodded.
Principal Sato intends to make it official on Monday. Akiko saw it in his speech transcript. The Student Government Council tried to hold an emergency quorum to overthrow the appointment, but it's too late. He wants everything to be perfect this year…Even if it means handing the school over to a tyrant.
A heavy silence filled the air as everyone digested the news.
This isn't good for us, said Tashima. With Osakabe in charge, this poses a serious threat to our endgame. If we have any hope of succeeding, we have to be clever. We have to be two steps ahead of her at all times. Otherwise, we're doomed.
Okay, said Yamada. So, what's our strategy?
Tashima assessed the map. Her eyes lingered on the school, the heart of their operations. Pulling the silver pen from behind her ear, she clicked it, signaling to everyone that what she was about to say was extremely important.
The best way to tackle a problem is to break it down into parts. Instead of getting overwhelmed by the whole, we'll concentrate on smaller action items, so – she tapped the map with her pen – our first order of business is to establish alibis. We need to keep the robotics team safe in the dorms so they can finish running our calculations. To achieve this, we're gonna need papers. And by papers– she looked to Hanamura directly– I mean nurse's notes.
To this, Hanamura sobered.
Think you can swindle some from Nurse Hino? Asano asked her. She really likes you, you know.
Hanamura chewed her lip.
Do I have to? Isn't there some other way?
She was well-aware she had crossed the line weeks ago when it came to rule-breaking, but it loathed her to think she might have to con the school nurse too. Mrs. Hino had defended her against the principal. It didn't seem fair to repay her kindness with deception.
Tashima grew stern.
A nurse's note is the only thing strong enough to get a student out of any school function, she said. As the words left her mouth, she pursed her lips. Well…aside from death, of course, she added. Morte Vacabimus.
Morte Vacabimus, everyone chanted reverently.
Hanamura began to fidget.
How about I go with you? Rumi volunteered. She'll believe it more if it comes from me anyway. We'll blame it on the science club. In fact, we could make it real if you want. There's those laxative packets still floating around from midterms. They'll never know if we slip it into their juice in the morning. Rumi shrugged her shoulders. Problem solved.
Hanamura stared at her, horrified.
You want me to lie to Nurse Hino and poison the robotics team? How is that better?
Hanamura, this is no time to get lily-livered! Tashima insisted. It's the only way to go about this as cleanly as possible. Detention's too much of a stretch, and suspension's what we're trying to avoid, right? So, are you committed to this or not?
Everyone gazed at her expectantly, forcing her to comply.
Fine. Perjury it is.
She had agreed to it on Saturday, but as the week wore on, she tossed and turned at night, fretting about what she was going to say to Nurse Hino that would convince her to hand over not one, but four medical excuses. Poisoning the robotics team was not an option. Their installment in the girls' dormitory had been traumatic enough. Having suffered the indignity of cross-dressing to get past the dorm monitor followed by a close interrogation of how they were all related to Rumi ("My, you have such pretty cousins, Miss Hara!"), they had traveled deep into the labyrinthian halls filled with pajama-clad girls and wound up cowering in the furthest corner of their room (Igoro hiding under the bed), frightened, aloof, and shuddering if Hanamura so much as glanced in their direction.
No. She couldn't subject them to further discomfort. She developed a pitch instead and practiced it with Rumi until their delivery was believable, but even then, sleep continued to elude her as she did battle with her conscience.
When Tuesday finally arrived, Hanamura woke up exhausted. She slid out of bed and tiptoed over the many pallets strewn across the floor. Accommodating five additional people in a room packed to the brim with potted plants and old bric-a-brac had been a challenge, but she was glad to see Izakaya and the robotics team somewhat comfortable. They slept two to a pallet, their bodies facing the opposite direction; Igoro's large foot was pressed into Kazuki's cheek, but Kazuki was none the wiser, snoring heartily with sleep mask in place.
Ready to do this? Rumi asked as they met out in the hall.
Hanamura yawned. Ready as I'll ever be.
They got dressed in the restrooms, rehearsing their pitch one last time before sneaking out of the dorms. A thick, billowing fog met them outside, and as they trekked across the lawn, the school seemed to grin at them with its neat rows of cavendish yellow windows. Hanamura shivered, but it had more to do with her nerves than the cold, and before she knew it, she was standing in front of Nurse Hino, miming what a geyser might look like if it erupted from every orifice of the human body.
Now was the moment of truth.
Nurse Hino took a sip of her coffee. "Hmm? Oh yes. Yes, quite tragic," she agreed, leaning back in her chair as she considered them thoughtfully. "Given the symptoms you've listed, I would say this is a classic case of vibriosis."
Hanamura shared a measured look with Rumi.
"Is vibriosis bad?" She ventured.
"That depends. The ingestion of certain bacteria leads to nausea, but it can pass quickly."
"So, it's not fatal?"
Nurse Hino took another sip of her coffee, her golden bangles tinkling against her wrist.
"What I find most peculiar about this – aside from the fact that these gentlemen disclosed such sensitive information to the two of you," she said with a pointed look, "is the fact that had Ms. Oshiro treated the science club to these oysters yesterday…how is it that you're not sick, Miss Hara?"
The question was aimed to catch them off guard, but Hanamura was grateful her roommate stayed cool under the pressure. Rumi offered her a lopsided grin. "That's because I don't eat shellfish, ma'am."
The nurse's gaze flickered.
"I see."
They stared at each other for another long moment in which Hanamura forgot to breathe. The way Nurse Hino stared at them with her head slightly tilted and her lips drawn into a grin indicated she was on to them. But just as Hanamura began to abandon all hope, the nurse returned to her notes.
"Well, this is unfortunate," she said, clicking her pen. "I'm glad you brought this to my attention. I feel compelled to report the restaurant now that four people have fallen victim to this shellfish outbreak. This is a serious health code violation."
Hanamura and Rumi both winced.
"As a matter of policy, the boys will have to stay in their rooms until their illness passes. Should the situation get worse, I can have medicine delivered to the dorms. But so long as they drink plenty of water and commit themselves to rest, we can expect a full recovery in time for the festival." She retrieved a memo pad, filling out four slips and signing each with an elaborate signature before she ripped them out and handed them to Rumi. "Can I trust you to give these to their homeroom teachers? I'm due for a staff meeting this morning."
Rumi took them gingerly.
"Yes, ma'am."
With notes now in their possession, Hanamura took her first genuine breath in a long while. Her discomforted subsided, and as they crossed the waiting room, she even began to feel optimistic.
"Oh, and girls," Nurse Hino called out, causing them both to pause at the door, "a quick word of advice. Mischief, especially at a time like this, is not without its consequences. Might I suggest the next time you need a medical excuse, consulting something other than WebMD?" Hanamura and Rumi glanced over their shoulders, finding her smirking. "If there's one thing I've learned in my twenty-two years as a school nurse, it's how to call a bluff when I see one." She lifted her mug. "Cheers."
They left the infirmary, their faces hot with shame.
"Whelp, I guess the cat's out of the bag on this one," said Rumi somewhat ruefully.
Hanamura groaned. "I should go back and apologize."
"Don't! She knows what we're up to and gave them to us anyway." Rumi gripped her shoulder, shaking her head. "Don't get all noble on me. Are you a villain, or aren't you?"
Hanamura eyed her for a moment, standing stock-still as she digested her words.
"Right." She took a breath, nodding slowly. "Right…Priorities. Diabolical scheming first, moral integrity second."
"There you go." Rumi patted her on the back. "Almost lost you there, Magpie Girl."
"Sorry."
Hanamura remembered the stakes that were involved, and that Rumi was right. This was not a time to feel guilty. They would find a way to make it up to Mrs. Hino, but for right now they needed to stick to the plan. The others were counting on them.
Reaffirming her resolve, Hanamura followed Rumi as she took off down the hall. Pale morning light shined through the windows, turning the grounds into a silvery landscape. It was cold for late-October. Heat traveled through the school ventilators, creating a rush of warm air that fogged up the glass, but Hanamura's adrenaline trapped a chill in her fingers and toes, keeping her alert. They took the stairs to the third floor, ducking into the restroom.
"Good morning, ladies."
Asano was sitting on the marble vanity with backpacks in hand. Except it wasn't really Asano. Not in the usual sense. In her place sat a girl with raven-black hair cut diagonally across her forehead and jaw, her soft brown eyes hidden behind a pair of heliotrope contacts. She was wearing the same jumpsuit as they were, but it looked far more vogue on her with its rolled cuffs and popped collar, the front buttons undone to show a glimpse of black t-shirt underneath. Hanamura and Rumi both froze, taken aback by the stark transformation.
"Reiko, is that you?"
Asano grinned.
"Pretty convincing, huh? I've always wondered what it would be like to have hair as dark as my soul." She preened in the mirror. "Am I recognizable?"
"Hardly."
"Good." She hopped off the vanity. "These are for you. Courtesy of the theater club."
She tossed them their backpacks.
Our second order of business is disguises. None of us are at liberty to move about the school as we are, so we'll have to resort to camouflage, said Tashima during their meeting. Think about the background characters in your favorite movies – the extras. They're there, but hardly distinguishable from the main cast. If we want to increase our chances at mobility, we'll have to go in the gray.
Hanamura and Rumi quickly unzipped their backpacks, revealing wigs, glasses, and a set of false teeth. When Rumi held up the teeth with a quirked brow, Asano grinned. "To change up your smile."
Rumi settled the brace into her mouth, adjusting to a charming new tooth gap. Next came the wig. Undoing her buns, she dragged a blond piece over her head. It had a bright, brassy sheen to it and ran down her shoulders in two loose braids. Amused, she flicked one with a finger.
"Huh. So, I'm the Granola Girl."
Her tooth gap whistled, causing all three of them to burst into laughter.
"Or a rabbit," said Hanamura.
Rumi cuffed her on the shoulder.
"Go on. Before someone catches us," Asano urged Hanamura impatiently.
Hanamura slipped on her own wig, the long, tawny tresses reaching all the way down her back. It was full and layered in the front, concealing her face underneath thick fringe. The bronze color was a shade darker than her own skin, making her look impossibly beachy. She put the glasses on next, a set of tortoise-shell frames with fake lenses.
Rumi offered her a sloped grin. "Good-bye Magpie Girl, hello bookworm."
Hanamura turned her head from side to side, marveling at the weight of so much hair.
"Is that how I look? Not like a beach bum?"
"Not with that hime-style haircut."
They appraised their reflections in the mirror, saying nothing as they digested their new personas. For a moment, they appeared to be three beautified high school girls. The kind that typically roamed the halls en masse wearing fruity perfume and sharing gossip over the latest trends. But then Rumi cracked a bucktooth grin which made Hanamura guffaw and the illusion broke.
"We look ridiculous," Rumi wheezed, the false teeth giving her a strong speech impediment.
"We look different," argued Asano.
"Too different."
"That's the whole point, isn't it?"
Hanamura continued to marvel at her reflection, finding the coloring and styling a complete departure from her usual self. It left her with a strange giddiness in her stomach. Would Tendou be able to recognize her? Like this, she was the quintessential heroine, the one with sloped shoulders and large eyes who gazed into the distance with unconcealed innocence. All of her wildness had been tamed into that of a wallflower. What would he think of this new transformation?
As soon as the thought entered her mind, she flushed. What a funny thing to think! This was all in an effort to elude capture and yet the prospect of his discovery left her feeling both anxious and excited. Already an anticipatory thrill was spreading throughout her body, same as the night of the hunt. She wanted to be discovered if only so that she might see his reaction.
I intend to learn your secret before the week is out. There'll be no holding back. Not from me.
Her imagination had run wild with the implications of such a statement, and she was further agitated to know this was an oath he planned to keep. The next time she found herself alone with the Guess Monster, she wasn't so certain she would be able to escape his persuasion unscathed. He was too irresistible. All that intelligence, that sharp smile, those devilish red eyes focused on her. It was an intensity that made her feel more alive than any other physical thrill she had ever experienced.
Hanamura kept these mutinous thoughts to herself as Asano took an eyeliner pencil and began fashioning a bridge of freckles across her cheeks. Taking a step back, she smiled. "There. That ought to do the trick."
Fully disguised, they gathered up their things and relocated to the second floor. The science lab door had been left ajar, but they checked the hall before darting inside. Rumi slid it shut behind them and ushered them toward the sunroom.
It was then that Hanamura felt another swoosh in her stomach as she recalled the last time she was inside the small space. Nothing had changed – the plants still adorned the windowsill, the rug still decorated the floor, and the bookcases still held the same scientific tomes and instruments. But whereas the room had had an ethereal, ghostly feel to it at night, living inside her memory like a gothic romance, in the pale morning dawn it was rather quiet and subdued.
They were not alone. Seated in the armchairs like royal siblings in a portrait were two people who were almost identical with their matching brown hair. But where the boy had a stereotypical bowl cut, one that hung low in his face, the girl was crowned in a glorious heap of tight, frizzy curls that put Ms. Oshiro's mane to shame. Taking them in, Hanamura nearly choked.
"Takashi? Tashima?"
"Whoa. Looking good, you two," said Rumi. "I see you got casted as the Creepy Twins."
They shot her pained looks.
"This has got to be the dumbest idea we've ever had," said Izakaya. He sounded like a battered flute, and it didn't take them long to figure out why. He was wearing a fake nose that was twice the size of his normal one, altering his voice so that it sounded nasally and flat. Across from him, Tashima scowled, a magnificent witch's mole pasted between her eyebrows which were now thick and bushy like caterpillars. The effect was staggering.
"Go on. Say it," she bated Hanamura lightly. "Tell me I look ridiculous."
Hanamura blinked.
"You look ridiculous," she said. "Like you eat children, but…you also jazzercise on the weekends."
Tashima raked her gaze over Hanamura, taking everything in from the hair to the freckles to the glasses with obvious resentment.
"Well, at least one of us gets to keep their dignity."
There was a frustrated sigh from Asano. "Come on, you guys! You're totally missing the point! This isn't a glamorization – it's a disguise! The less we look like ourselves, the less chance we have at getting recognized. These facial markers are designed to throw people off our scent. Okay?"
They were all culled into submission, Rumi offering her a perfectly doe-eyed, bucktooth look of remorse.
Asano glanced at her phone.
"It's almost time. Who's got the cleaning supplies?"
Izakaya and Tashima stood, picking up two small buckets off the floor.
Our third order of business is to cause a diversion, said Tashima. We need to get our proposal approved by the Student Government Council without interference from Principal Sato or Osakabe. To do this, we need to move them off campus while Fukuhara's in her meeting on Thursday.
Izakaya stared at her dumbfounded. And just how are we supposed to do that?
Tashima looked to Hanamura who broke into a small grin.
Have you ever heard of playing both sides against the middle? She asked him slyly.
When Izakaya remained dubious, she reached for her bag.
I checked out a book from the library a few weeks ago– something to help level the playing field between the Guess Monster and myself. I knew I had to catch up if I was going to keep this all a secret, so I asked Ms. Moriyama for a few recommendations. Hanamura rummaged inside her backpack, pulling out a leather-bound book. It was thin and small and perfect for carrying around in her pocket, but her favorite part was the eagle embossed on its cover. She ran her fingers over its feathers, unable to keep the satisfaction from her voice as she said, after a few personal triumphs, I can safely say this has become my practical guide to evil masterminding.
Asano read the cover and smirked. Is that The Art of War?
Whoa. Quite the little black book there, said Rumi, equally impressed. Is that how you've managed to thwart him this long?
Hanamura clutched it to her chest like a diary. Yep! It covers everything – deception, manipulation, negotiation…You know, all the basics.
Izakaya gave her a deeply perturbed look. Who are you? What have you become?
Anyway, there's an interesting bit in here about playing by the enemy's rules, Hanamura carried on, ignoring his judgmental stare. Tugging on the book's red ribbon, she opened it to a specific page. It says here we can subdue the enemy by pandering to their expectations. By doing this, we can control their response in a way that benefits us.
Yamada crossed her arms on the table, intrigued. Okay. How do we do that?
With a good old-fashioned hoodwink, said Tashima, picking up where Hanamura left off. There's a staff meeting scheduled in the cafeteria on Tuesday morning. According to Captain Fujiwara, everyone's included – faculty, staff, security, maintenance, groundskeeping…basically anyone who's not a student will be at this meeting. Two of the most sensitive office suites will be left unsupervised–
–which is how we're going to set up Principal Sato and Osakabe, said Hanamura.
The art club shared a daunted look.
"Alright. Team One, you get the principal's office." Rumi handed Tashima and Izakaya their cleaning supplies. Turning to Hanamura and Asano, she smiled. "Team Two, you get the teachers' lounge."
Hanamura rested the pail over her arm. Already her pulse was racing as she braced herself for another trip to the faculty office.
"Keep your phones handy and wait for me to get in position by the cafeteria. I'll give you the signal once the meeting starts," said Rumi. "When you have the green light, you have exactly fifteen minutes to plant the documents before anyone returns to the office. Any last questions?"
Asano turned to Izakaya.
"You gonna be okay in there, Zeldor? You've never been to the principal's office before."
Izakaya scowled.
"Gee, Reiko. I don't know. Am I allowed to speak on the matter or is that in violation of my contract?"
Asano held back a smile. "I see you're still touchy about that."
They lined up at the classroom door. Rumi was the first to leave. She set off in a hurry, intent on placing herself somewhere in the cafeteria before the meeting started. To further minimize suspicion, they staggered their departures. Asano continued to watch her phone. When two whole minutes passed, she gave a small nod to Tashima and Izakaya.
"Time to fly, Team One."
Nodding, they set off down the hall next, taking the stairs to the first floor. They were headed for the administrative offices by the front lobby. It was an intimidating suite, one Hanamura avoided at all costs. The modern glass entry with its marble backsplash behind the secretary's desk reminded her of a mausoleum: cold, ominous, and severe. The only time she had ever stepped foot in the place was when she had her meeting with the principal to discuss her scholarship. It did not make for a pleasant memory.
I hope those two will be okay, she thought with a pang of worry.
"Ready?" Asano asked. Hanamura nodded. Together they headed in the opposite direction, climbing back up to the fourth floor. By now it was nearing seven o'clock in the morning. Students had filled the hall and were already set upon cleaning the windows. Hanamura scanned the crowd to see if Tendou was somewhere nearby, but so far, the coast was clear. A small twinge of disappointment ran through her.
Stay focused, Suzume. You're on a mission.
They kept watch from the stairwell and were pleased to see Nurse Hino making her way down the hall toward the teachers' lounge. Faculty members were filing outside in a slow procession: Mr. Harada appearing first, dressed in his customary brown suit. He was followed by a lively Ms. Moriyama and Ms. Oshiro who were chatting amiably with the vampire substitute teacher. Behind them sauntered a skeletal-looking Washijo, followed by his cautious lieutenant coach. More teachers streamed out, faces Hanamura did not recognize, until Mrs. Osakabe brought up the rear.
An intense dislike overcame Hanamura as she watched her homeroom teacher stroll down the hall. The sight of her sleek bun, her gray power suit, the authoritative manner in which she walked was quickly becoming synonymous with everything Hanamura stood against.
I'm not afraid of you, she thought, marshalling her courage. You don't scare me anymore.
She had thought the same thing when she locked gazes with her homeroom teacher during the pep assembly. Petrified whispers broke out all around her, and yet Hanamura sat straight in her chair, holding firm to the belief that not all rules were to be left unchallenged. Mrs. Osakabe could lay down the law as much as she liked, but it wouldn't be enough to stop Hanamura. Not anymore.
A few minutes passed before their phones buzzed.
"Okay, let's go," said Hanamura, taking the lead as they approached the teacher's lounge.
Her adrenaline was kicking in full force, yet she was relieved to discover their disguises worked. Hardly anyone paid them attention, so focused they were on their cleaning duties. But as Hanamura continued to weave through the cluster of students, she shared a troubled look with Asano. Whatever speech had been given in front of the dorms that morning must have been severe enough to warrant this level of intensity. Everyone was behaving as if they were serving detention rather than preparing for a festival. One girl was already on the verge of tears as she tried to put on her rubber gloves.
"Gah! I can't get these stupid things on!" She chucked them to the floor.
"Rina, it's okay–"
"–It is not okay! We've got all these windows to clean before noon, and all we have are these ratty little dish sponges! Not to mention we've got a hundred batches of cupcakes to bake by Saturday." She clutched her face in a panic. "This is a disaster!"
"Is there a problem?"
A third-year girl with bobbed hair and a silver armband made her way toward the pair. A ripple of fear spread through the crowd in reaction to her presence. The students went quiet, their eyes downcast. Hanamura and Asano kept to the back, observing her from afar.
"No, she's just feeling overwhelmed is all," said the girl. "We didn't anticipate we'd be cleaning for two days. We're in charge of the cupcake drive. This puts our whole baking operation behind schedule."
The girl with the silver armband remained indifferent.
"These cleaning assignments are designed to not only purify the school, but the students who inhabit it as well. You must prove yourself worthy to be part of the event," she spoke, pitching her voice for the entire hall to hear. "If this is all too much for you, then perhaps you should sit out on the festival. We have a supplementary class you can join instead. I believe the topic is macroeconomics."
There were several gasps of alarm.
"No!" Rina wailed, taking a step back. "No, anything but that."
The girl with the silver armband offered her an unpleasant grin. "Then I suggest you start cleaning." She glanced at the clock on the wall. "You have five hours to complete your assignment. The next time I come down this corridor, I better see every window spotless or the cupcake drive gets benched for another year." The mirth in her face receded as she eyed the crowd. "Does anyone else have any objections?"
Everyone scattered, the outbreak of distressed murmurings evaporating immediately. The third-year girl clasped hands behind her back. Catching Hanamura and Asano staring, she scowled.
"What? Don't you two have somewhere to be?"
Hanamura curled her hands into fists, but it was Asano who issued a nervous laugh.
"Yes! We were just on our way," she said cordially, steering Hanamura onwards. "If you'll excuse us."
They were quick to escape her scrutiny, but it was just outside the teachers' lounge that Hanamura stopped. "Reiko, did you hear that? She threatened to take away the cupcake drive!"
Asano looked stricken. "Akiko always said the disciplinary committee's a power-hungry bunch, but this is way worse than we thought. They're out for blood."
They shared a worried look that was quickly interrupted by a strange warbling sound coming from the faculty suite. As they stepped into the gray-carpeted room, Hanamura's stomach flopped when she realized Ms. Sakimoto, the young administrative assistant, had been left behind to watch over the office. Her opinion of this decision must have been rather low for she had her feet up on the desk, earbuds in her ears, and a bag of chocolate-covered almonds in her hands. She was tossing an almond in the air and catching it with her mouth, quite oblivious. But as her gaze drifted to the doorway, she jolted, accidentally disconnecting her earbuds from the computer, and flooding the office with whale music.
"G-Girls! What are you–? That is – ehem – can I help you?" She asked them as she frantically tried to mute the music. She turned the same shade as her pink polka-dotted blouse.
"Erm…The disciplinary committee sent us," said Hanamura, holding up her bucket. "We're here to clean."
For a moment, Ms. Sakimoto blinked.
"Oh, right! Yes, yes, yes. Of course." She smoothed her skirt, trying to gather her composure once more. The bag of almonds was shoved promptly back into her desk drawer. "Well then, have at it girls." She smiled thinly. "Much appreciated. I'll just be…uh…reviewing some course schedules."
Ms. Sakimoto opened a binder then, resuming her professional demeanor. Hanamura and Asano had no choice but to start dusting, beginning with the far corner by the copier.
"Crap, what do we do? We didn't plan on her being left behind," whispered Asano under her breath.
"Stay cool," said Hanamura. "We'll think of something."
Cutting her gaze across the room, Hanamura eyed the coffee cup on Ms. Sakimoto's desk that was nearly twice the size of a normal mug. It was then she recalled Rumi saying the administrative assistant liked to air her grievances over the coffee pot. An idea came to mind. Reaching for the canister sitting next to the office plants, Hanamura began pouring water in a steady trickle. She held the canister aloft, accentuating the noise so that each rivulet of water echoed throughout the entire room. Eventually, Ms. Sakimoto began to fidget in her seat.
"Excuse me, girls. I have to step outside for just a moment. No one else is allowed in here, okay?" She pressed her hands together as if in a plea. "I'll be back in 2 minutes, I promise!"
With that, she hastily left the office for the restroom.
Asano gave Hanamura a thumbs up. "Nicely done."
It was now or never. Hanamura set the water canister down and quickly approached Mrs. Osakabe's desk. Reaching for the manila folder tucked inside the bucket, she pulled out a typed memo on crisp, white letterhead. The principal's signature had been forged in blue ink in the bottom left corner. It had taken Yamada the better part of the evening to get the signature right, using Hanamura's scholarship letter and summer school form as guides. After a few hours of practice, she was able to forge not only the principal's signature, but Mrs. Osakabe's as well.
Think this will work? Yamada asked, handing over the false documents. The remnants of several failed attempts littered her drafting table, her fingers marked in blue ink.
Hanamura took them from her eagerly and read the following:
To my esteemed colleague Mrs. Osakabe,
An issue regarding the culture festival has been brought to my attention. I require your counsel on the matter. Due to the highly confidential nature of this meeting, I request your presence at the café two blocks south of the school on Thursday at 3:00 p.m. precisely. I will explain everything there. Please keep this information private until then.
Very kindly yours,
Principal Sato
The only thing different about the other memo was that the addresser and addressee had been swapped to make it look as if Mrs. Osakabe was the one arranging the meeting.
That way when they show up at the café, they'll both be under the impression that the other has something important to discuss, said Hanamura during their meeting. They could go around in circles for hours not knowing they were set up. It's the perfect ploy!
Everyone at the table took a moment to appreciate the irony.
That's evil, said Asano with a snicker.
The memo looked surprisingly real under the fluorescent lights. Encouraged by this, Hanamura stood over Mrs. Osakabe's desk, trying to determine the best place to leave it. A pile of paperwork rested over her desktop calendar, the pages spilling out of a green folder. Deciding this was the best place, Hanamura went to lay it over the stack when the top-facing page caught her eye.
Clubs To Examine Before The Festival read a header in blood-red ink. Hanamura froze. The words stood out like an open wound across the page. Below it was a bulleted list, but it was hidden under the cover. An icy chill flooded her body as she assumed the worst. Did this mean the whistleblower had gone directly to the source? Were all the clubs in Operation Magpie now forfeit? The room dissolved and all Hanamura could concentrate on was the note stuffed inside the folder. Feeling restless, she reached out with shaking fingers when a voice stopped her.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Asano gasped and Hanamura leaped back, startled. Mrs. Osakabe had returned to the office and was peering at the two of them sharply. Finding Hanamura so close to her desk, she scowled. "Students are not permitted to be in here unsupervised. Who said you could be here?"
"Ms. Sakimoto is using the restroom, ma'am," said Asano.
"That doesn't answer my question."
"We're here to clean," Hanamura said somewhat defensively. "We've been assigned to this office."
Mrs. Osakabe studied Hanamura, her gray mouth thinning.
"I don't see much cleaning. On the contrary–" her eyes fell to the folder on her desk "–I see two girls poking their noses where they shouldn't be."
She strolled into the room then, behaving much like a prison ward. The memo had slipped from Hanamura's fingers and was lying halfway under the desk, and she pushed it aside with her foot, trying to quell her rising nerves as her homeroom teacher drew close.
"You," she ordered. "What's your name?"
"M-Mei," Hanamura blurted, thinking fast on her feet. "Mei Matsushida."
Mrs. Osakabe crossed arms over her chest.
"Matsushida?" She echoed. "I don't know a Matsushida. What class are you?"
"S-second."
"Are you a transfer?"
"Erm…yes, ma'am."
Stay calm, Hanamura told herself as she remembered to breathe. Her heart was thumping very hard and fast. She overplayed the respectful look, keeping her head bowed and her eyes cast to the floor. If Mrs. Osakabe got one look at her face, the jig would be up.
"And you? What's your name?"
"Sadako," said Asano in a small voice. "Sadako Yamamura."
"Well, Matsushida, Yamamura, I don't know what gave you the impression you could waltz right in here while the faculty's out, but this is a punishable offense and as such I'm going to have to–"
"Oh, Mrs. Osakabe! What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be down in the meeting?"
Ms. Sakimoto reappeared, looking winded. Hanamura was never more relieved to see her. The administrative assistant bustled into the room, smoothing a lock of black hair behind her ear as she took charge of the situation. "These ladies agreed to watch the door while I stepped out for a moment. No harm done."
Mrs. Osakabe stood with mouth open, looking as if she had never been cut off before. She turned her scrutiny on Ms. Sakimoto instead.
"I came back for my notes, Morina, but if you'd rather go to the meeting, I can stay in your place," she said tersely, lifting her brows. "Surely one of us can watch the office for fifteen minutes."
There was a moment's pause in which teacher and administrative assistant shared hostile looks. Hanamura felt the tension in the room heighten dramatically and envisioned a vulture going to battle with a mink. Though there was easily a fifteen-year gap between them, Ms. Sakimoto held her ground.
"that's alright," she said with forced politeness. "I'll stay with the girls while they clean. I need to watch the phones anyway – a task I know you're not all too keen on…ma'am." She clasped hands at her waist in a professional manner, adding, "I'm sure Principal Sato would hate for a donor to call and receive…insufficient customer service."
A cold smile passed between them, and it was the scariest thing Hanamura had ever seen – Mrs. Osakabe's grin. Asano took to cowering behind the copier.
"Very well." The vulture snatched up her folder. "All I ask is that you keep an eye on things, Morina," she snapped. "No funny business."
The mink simpered. "Of course not, ma'am."
Hanamura and Asano stood frozen as Mrs. Osakabe turned to leave the office. Once her tweed pantlegs disappeared around the corner, Ms. Sakimoto expelled all the air from her lungs. Smoothing her hair back, she adjusted her pink blouse in a way that suggested she had just won a fight.
"Carry on, girls," she bade them. "Do as much as you can and then go and enjoy yourselves. It can't be all work and no play." Yanking her drawer open, she retrieved her chocolate-covered almonds and plopped down on her chair in defiance. "If you forget to clean her area, I won't say a word."
Hanamura shared a bracing look with Asano.
Having sidestepped a major catastrophe, she wasted no time in retrieving the memo from the floor and placed it inside Mrs. Osakabe's mail tray. With the document planted, Hanamura joined Asano in cleaning the office for the rest of the morning until Ms. Sakimoto said they were free to go.
"I'm going to have nightmares for the rest of my life," said Asano as they caught their breath in the stairwell. "That was too scary. Even for me."
Hanamura leaned against the railing. Removing her glasses, she rubbed her eyes as exhaustion began to set in. Her mind dwelled on the note she had found on Mrs. Osakabe's desk, and it filled her with terrible misgivings. What if this was all for naught? What if their whole operation was already doomed? Would they even make it to Saturday?
Hanamura closed her eyes.
Breathe, she told herself. Just breathe. Don't jump to conclusions. The note could mean anything.
"Hey, are you okay?" Asano asked, placing an arm around her shoulders. "She didn't get to you, did she?"
Opening her eyes, Hanamura straightened. "No. I'm alright, just spooked is all." She put her glasses back on, choosing to keep the note a secret for now. She smiled at Asano. "We have your disguises to thank for saving our hides back there. She didn't recognize us one bit."
Asano laughed. "Well, it was Sakimoto who really saved our necks, but thanks."
Hanamura took another breath, feeling her heart finally settle down. Once the adrenaline wore off, she knew she would be panicking in earnest, but right now there were too many things to do before that happened. Picking up the cleaning bucket, she ran fingers through her hair.
"Shall we go find the others?"
Asano nodded. "But first, let's make a quick pitstop. I need a drink."
. . . . . . . .
Traveling through the school incognito, they picked their way to the first floor when Asano veered left toward the cafeteria. Fresh sunlight bathed the corridor, bouncing off the vending machines in a bright glare. The sudden brilliance obstructed their view of the hall and as they rounded the corner, they stumbled on an unexpectedly dramatic scene.
The volleyball team stood clustered together in the hall, circled around a puddle of pink milk. They had buckets and mops and looked strikingly similar to a 90s boyband in their matching jumpsuits, but a perceptible air of tension surrounded them. Hanamura's insides lurched for the third time that morning as she spotted Tendou having an intense faceoff with Reon. The two were standing perpendicular to the hall, an irate Shirabu trapped between them.
Hanamura grabbed Asano, dragging her behind the nearest vending machine.
"Alright, alright. Geez. I'll leave him alone," Tendou was saying to Reon. The rough edge to his voice was sharp as a serrated knife, giving Hanamura shivers. "But if he won't talk," he went on, "Taichi, Yunohama, tell me everything you know about our dear friend, Zeldor the Blue."
To this, Hanamura and Asano tensed.
"NO! For god's sake! We won't let you terrorize him," Shirabu yelled, sounding uncharacteristically flustered. There was a loud squeaking of slippers against the floor. A small scuffle. Then:
"He's my ticket to Asano's heart, okay?" He cried out. "It took me three weeks to get him to talk about anything other than his Crystal Lotus Campaign – or his turtles – or his morning haircare routine! We've just gotten on the subject of Asano's top ten serial killers and I will not throw him under the bus!"
His voice pitched and it was the first time they had heard the setter so impassioned. Asano gasped, her eyes glowing as a deep blush spread across her cheeks. She turned to Hanamura.
Is he talking about me? She mouthed, pointing at herself.
Hanamura nodded. He's talking about you!
Asano cupped her cheeks in disbelief.
Curious to know where this conversation was headed, Hanamura listened intently. After weeks of not-so-subtle posturing, it came as a small shock to hear Shirabu switching tactics by approaching Izakaya instead. She was aware the two shared the same homeroom, and that Shirabu had been peppering Izakaya with questions for some time now, but there was a noticeably new desperation to the setter she found strange. Why was he bent so out of shape? Had something happened?
"Shirabu, why don't you just talk to her yourself?" Reon asked. "Why operate through Izakaya?"
"Yeah, seems a bit convoluted," agreed Jin.
There was silence. Unable to help herself, Asano edged her gaze around the vending machine. Dressed as she was, none of the volleyball players would recognize her, but Hanamura wasn't about to take that chance. She kept a firm hold of her arm, flinching when footsteps crossed the hall.
Shirabu became a dark figure at the windows, his hair disheveled, his posture pensive against the daylight. Asano must have found him visually captivating for she watched him with her lips gently parted, a feeling of anticipation springing forth from the way she cupped her face. Would this be the moment he confessed his feelings? The grand gesture she had been waiting for? The moment he'd prove himself worthy by standing in his truth and telling his blood-brothers about his crush? Everything took on a cinematic hue then, and the musical score of Asano's mind played in the background in a gradually building crescendo of violins and harps.
Shirabu surveyed the courtyard.
"Isn't it obvious?" He said at last, turning to face his teammates. A sanctimonious grin twisted his mouth, making him churlish as he declared, "I'm playing hard to get."
The movie reel snagged, disrupting the rose-colored scene as the violins came to a screeching halt.
Asano dropped her hands.
"What?"
"Reiko, shhh!" Hanamura seized her around the middle to draw her back, but Asano clung to the corner of the vending machine, behaving as if she were going to claw her way free and confront Shirabu herself. She was brimming with outrage. Hanamura had no choice but to hold on for dear life, praying they wouldn't be seen. The struggle brought them both to their knees.
"That arrogant, conceited," Asano hissed through clenched teeth, "insufferable, puffed up–!"
"–No offense, Shirabu, but that strategy only works if the girl's already into you," said Jin, causing them both to freeze. "Asano doesn't strike me as the flirtatious type. She's not your average, run-of-the-mill heroine, know what I mean?"
"A bit demented," agreed Semi.
Shocked, Asano let go suddenly, causing Hanamura to fall onto her backside. She was panting now, her wig suddenly stifling as she broke out into a sweat. She cast Asano a harried look, but Asano was focused entirely on the volleyball team.
"How're you so sure she's even into you?" asked Kawanishi.
Shirabu scoffed.
"She's totally into me. Why else would she draw my portrait at the scrimmage match?"
Hanamura groaned. Of all the foolish, insipid things to say! This conversation had gone from bad to worse and she covered her face in disappointment. Instead of winning Asano's affection, Shirabu had inspired the deepest of loathing. He might as well be choking on his own foot at this point.
Asano moved with a slow, wraithlike grace as she picked herself off the floor. She tilted her head, letting black hair fall across her face, shiny and sleek as a crow's wing. It had an ominous effect.
"So…that's how it is, huh?" She whispered softly. "The truth finally comes out." Her fingers moved like spiders against her thighs, causing Hanamura to jolt. "Fine. If he wants to play mind games, we'll play mind games." Her voice dropped in register, electrifying her darkness tenfold. When she turned to Hanamura, her eyes were unusually bright. "We'll play a game so warped and so twisted; he'll be begging for mercy when I'm done with him." She smiled. "Let the psychological abuse begin."
Hanamura heard the violins strike up again, but in a grainy, unsettling trill of horror movie pastiche. The light in the corridor turned gray and it cloaked Asano in a grim aura, further accentuating her raven locks and gem-colored eyes. She was no longer the blushing starlet, but an ancient and formidable sorceress hellbent on destroying the hero. And she had set her sights on Shirabu.
"Come on, Suzume," she said crisply, turning on her heel. "I've heard enough of this. Let's go."
Hanamura had no choice but to follow, sparing one final glance at the setter.
Things did not bode well for Shirabu.
. . . . . . . .
Asano remained disconcertingly calm as they met up with the art club a few minutes later. They convened in the park under the old maple tree; its branches heavy with dark red leaves that nearly touched the ground. It was the perfect place for a rendezvous. By the time they arrived, the others had spread a blanket over the grass and set out a lunch of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
"Here, drink this," said Yamada, handing them each a paper cup filled with chai. "It'll help you warm up."
Hanamura noticed she spoke with the same sobriety as a military cook, treating them as if they were soldiers returning from the field and she could understand why. Their picnic was the encampment of a wilderness expedition, complete with food rations, gear, and a scout keeping watch from the edge of the trees. They were told Fukuhara had volunteered for first watch.
"I'll take the second," Yamada insisted. "You just relax and have some lunch. You've earned it."
"Thanks," said Hanamura, taking her tea gratefully. She sank onto the blanket beside Rumi with a tired sigh. The events of the morning were finally catching up with her, and she was tempted to doze in the sun as she sipped her tea. Her eyes grew heavy and as she listened to Tashima and Izakaya give their status report, she hoped they had a much better experience.
As it turned out, it was very far from the case:
"So anyway, there I was – sprawled on the floor with my tongue sticking out," Izakaya regaled them with a dramatic sweep of his hands.
"The secretary started fanning him with a brochure, saying we should call him an ambulance–"
"–it was my death scene from the Crystal Lotus Campaign," he added boastfully. "The one where Zeldor dies at the edge of the amethyst lake–"
"–and with his back turned, I was able to finally sneak inside the principal's office and plant the memo before he could actually call the health department," said Tashima.
"I started convulsing at that point. You know, to make it more real–"
"–but when he got up to dial the nearest hospital–"
"–I sprung onto my feet–"
"–and we hightailed it out of there before he could stop us," finished Tashima.
Izakaya leaned back with his palms in the grass, his eyes misty.
"It was my most visceral performance yet," he said in a faraway voice. "I wish you all could have been there to see it. It was…" he trailed off, waving his hand in the air "…magnifique."
Everyone sat in shocked silence. Hanamura had long forgotten her tea, so transfixed by Tashima and Izakaya's harrowing account of their trip to the administrative offices. They had encountered the same problem as she and Asano had, only it was the principal's secretary who had been delegated to stay behind. Hanamura chewed her lip as her shock sank in.
"How about you? Were you able to plant the memo in the teachers' lounge?" Tashima asked.
All gazes fell to Hanamura, and she tensed up. The note still weighed heavily on her mind, but she chose to omit it from her account of her near-miss with Osakabe. To be expected, everyone turned exceedingly pale, frightened that she and Asano had so narrowly avoided detection from disciplinary director herself. Tashima and Izakaya were both peering at her critically, their mouths gaping in shock, but it was Rumi who clutched her braids in remorse.
"Suzume, I'm so sorry! I had my eyes on Osakabe, but then she went and disappeared on me," she said with a grimace. "I nearly cost us the whole mission!"
"No, you didn't," Hanamura reassured her. "It all worked out in the end. She didn't recognize us thanks to Reiko's disguises, and Sakimoto prevented things from escalating further."
"Well, let's just hope this trick actually works," said Tashima, taking an anxious bite of her sandwich. "It won't mean anything if we don't get council approval."
Hanamura took a breath. "We will. You'll see. For now, let's concentrate on the project."
This seemed to mollify everyone's fear, and even Rumi relaxed her shoulders as she peered across the park. That is, until she caught sight of something that made her frown.
"Um, by the way, Suzume…is she okay?" She asked, jutting her chin.
The art club looked up, watching as Asano impaled a drawing to a nearby tree. Shirabu's mugshot hung beneath the leaves, anchored by a single knitting needle. Moving back a couple paces, Asano muttered to herself darkly as she collected acorns from the ground and started to pelt them through the air. It didn't help matters that Shirabu seemed to be sneering at her from afar, egging her on. The drawing danced in the wind flippantly.
Hanamura sighed. "We overheard an unfortunate conversation this morning."
"Unfortunate?" Asano scoffed. "Don't be so generous, Suzume. It was abhorrent!" She hurled another handful of acorns at the tree, raising her knee in a baseball pitch. "Thinks I'm chasing him, does he? What – because I drew this stupid picture? Please!" She improved her aim, landing an acorn squarely on his nose. It left a dark mark on the page. "If he thinks I'm some groveling, weak-willed, simpering little flirt – he has another thing coming to him!"
Rumi gasped. "Oooooh, there's been a development!"
"Don't." Hanamura shook her head vehemently. "You'll only make it worse."
"Why? I thought this was what she was waiting for – some proof that he's interested."
Hanamura stared at the dregs of her tea with a sigh.
"Oh, she got proof alright. Just not the kind she was expecting."
They watched Asano stomp around the tree for more acorns, muttering to herself fervently. When there wasn't enough ammunition to her liking, she took to gathering sticks instead and hurled them through the air like darts. Rumi rested her cheek in the palm of her hand, grinning.
"Come on, Reiko. Cheer up!" She called out to her. "If anything, this means you're on his mind. Why not give him a chance? He might surprise you."
If Rumi thought this would calm down Asano, she was wildly mistaken. Asano yanked the drawing from the tree and proceeded to rip it to shreds. The pieces floated like confetti in the air and quickly disappeared among the fallen leaves. Dusting her hands, she glowered.
"Why don't you give him a chance," she said coolly. "I'm quite sick of him actually."
. . . . . . . .
Asano stayed in a foul mood for the rest of the day, living up to her alias as the resident goth. But for everyone else, the afternoon carried on in a rush and Hanamura soon forgot about Mrs. Osakabe and the note as she helmed the different projects across campus.
It was fortunate they did not run into the volleyball team again. Hanamura considered herself lucky on that front. Her brief encounter with Tendou earlier that morning made her realize that 'wanting to be captured' and 'being captured' were two very different things, and she was relieved to have escaped his presence unnoticed.
Three more days, she told herself. You can hide from him for three more days. Just keep your head down and stay focused. You've got this.
She adjusted her glasses, growing accustomed to her disguise as the day wore on.
By the time evening fell, a thick mist encroached over the lawns again, ceasing all activity in the courtyard. The students relocated to the school, turning it into a madhouse. Nearly every club was making up for lost time, and soon the corridors became crowded with a wild assortment of projects. The art club used the commotion to their advantage, finding it easier to operate amid the activity. Hanamura kept a pair of safety goggles around her neck as she made several trips between the studio and science lab, monitoring their chemical and explosive operations.
"First, we must combine the charcoal, aluminum, and potassium chlorate into a mixing bowl. Stir until each component is evenly distributed," said Ms. Oshiro, pulling the ingredients out of glass baking jars to create a dark, sooty mixture. She handed a whisk to Hanamura for the stirring.
"Next, we'll add the dextrin and water to create a slurry."
Tomiko added a teaspoon of yellow starch into a beaker of water and passed it to Suzuki who swirled the powder and liquid together, using a glass stirring rod. Once it turned a cloudy color, almost like lemonade, the solution was poured into the mixture to create a gunmetal gray soup.
"Now – the real question is do we go with red or green?"
Ms. Oshiro looked to Hanamura and Tashima who shared a brief glance.
"How about red?" Hanamura offered.
"Strontium nitrate it is," nodded Ms. Oshiro, emptying a packet of what looked like confectioner's sugar into the mix. "Once the batter is fully integrated, it can be adhered to our wire frame and dried within 24 hours. Here's a small preview of what it'll look like–"
She motioned to Kinji who was standing off to the sidelines, watching their live demonstration with interest. At her behest, he came over with a wire stick that had been coated in a generous amount of the gray mud which had dried and hardened into a concrete-like substance. Reaching for the lighter in his pocket, Hanamura and Tashima backed away ever so slightly as he lit the end.
For a moment nothing happened, but then a great hissing sound filled the lab as the metal cattail began shooting a fountain of hot sparks. It cascaded in a thick stream of scarlet light that reflected from all the shiny surfaces in the lab. Hanamura and Tashima stood frozen, spellbound. It was beautiful.
"Can we do this with all the colors?" Hanamura asked eagerly.
"Even the pastel ones?" Tashima added.
Ms. Oshiro clapped her hands together. "Of course!"
They pressed on even when the security guards locked up the school for the night. Hanamura slipped the latch on the door to the shoe lockers using her student ID, and they worked to install the welding gun in the studio. By the time she returned to the dorms, it was in the young hours of the morning. She traveled through the darkened building with Rumi and Izakaya in tow. They were the last to leave the studio, keeping to their staggered departures so as to minimize detection. Asano had left the back door unlocked and as they crossed the kitchen in the dead of night, it was eerily quiet. Their trek up the stairs was a slow one, but when they finally reached their room at the end of the hall, they were greeted by an unlikely surprise.
"Welcome home!" greeted the robotics team in a flurry of wigs and colorful bathrobes. They stood together in a line, all bowing graciously like the matrons of a reputable inn. Kazuki stepped forward, his face fresh and sparkly.
"Thank you for your hard work today. Did you finish all the thingy-things?"
Before anyone could respond, Igoro took their backpacks while Kazuki ushered them into the room. Upon entering, Hanamura was impressed to find the place completely organized. Instead of the chaotic mess of plants and curios, someone had undertaken the arduous task of reworking the room so that everything was neat and orderly. All of Rumi's plants were clustered together on the windowsill over a serving tray – the fly jar decorated in paper and ribbon. Hanamura's knickknacks were tucked into the bins of their bookshelf, each labeled with a call tag describing their contents much like those inside an apothecary shop.
"Whoa, it's so organized," Hanamura and Rumi murmured together in awe. They floated into the room, marveling at the wide expanse of clean carpet, the fairy lights hanging from the curtain rod, the color-coordinated books lining their shelves. As Rumi drifted to the window, a gasp escaped her lips.
"You repotted my plants?" She placed a hand over her heart. "Kazuki, I'm touched."
Izakaya narrowed his eyes. "Wait – are those my ceramic mugs?"
It was then that Cosmo perked up his head, unfurling from Hanamura's top bunk bed with lazy, golden eyes. He was the sixth stowaway in their humble abode, having arrived in the dead of night. A rumor had spread that the disciplinary committee planned to call animal control, and Hanamura wasted no time smuggling him inside the dorms. Reaching up to scratch his ears, she was surprised to find his coat extra soft and silky. She ran her fingers through it, astounded.
"Wow. You even groomed the cat."
"Yes, well–" Kazuki scratched his nose, turning smug "–we finished our calculations early so we decided to run a 5-S Audit to restore this pigsty to its former glory."
Rumi narrowed her eyes.
"You know what? I think I preferred you when you were sleep-deprived," she muttered.
"Don't give me that. You weren't utilizing the space effectively at all," he said with a motion of his hand. "This way, everything has its place. Not to mention, we can all fit a bit more comfortably."
The robotics team had already set out their pallets on the floor, but the blankets were arranged around a cardboard box that had been covered with a pillowcase. Izakaya was already seated at it, pouring himself a glass of water from Rumi's watering can.
"Oh, by the way–" Kazuki fished around in his bathrobe pocket "–there were a few messages for you while you were out. Your neighbors Haru and Mitzuki left an invitation for an ice cream social tomorrow night. We've all been invited," he said casually, flipping brown curls over his shoulder, "but I told them we'd have to check our schedules first. Then there's a slumber party scheduled in the common room on Thursday. They're showing a double feature with popcorn – fuzzy socks are mandatory." He handed Hanamura two little cards with an ice cream cone and movie reel on them. "Also, your family left a message with the dorm monitor. Something about travel plans this week."
Hanamura took it, wondering vaguely if this was what it was like to have a housewife.
"Anyone up for a peach parfait?" Igoro came around with pudding cups from the kitchen. Hanamura and Rumi each took one, sharing a quiet look of enjoyment. A clean room? A personal secretary? A midnight snack? They could get used to this.
With everyone taken care of for the night, Kazuki and the others settled around the makeshift table where they had amassed a bundle of fashion magazines and a tube of green clay. Kazuki grabbed the tube and began applying it to his face.
"Hey! Wait a minute," said Rumi, "is that my facial mask?"
Kazuki paused, all the sparkles leaving his face as he turned to Rumi. His gaze floated to the paperwork sitting on the desk.
"Are those 362 pages of peer-reviewed graduate-level areal physics?" He asked in a voice that was deep and decidedly male. A red glint filled his eyes, the illusion of an attentive matron gone. A hairy leg escaped his pink bathrobe then, and they were suddenly staring at an aspiring yakuza.
Rumi sucked in her cheeks.
"H-Here, you'll want the whole routine," she said hurriedly. "Otherwise, your pores won't be as clean."
Kazuki went back to being dewy and glistening and sparkly. "Oh! How nice."
Hanamura climbed onto her bed and laid back with a tired groan. She smelled like chemicals and paint fumes, but she was far too tired to make a trip to the showers that evening. As she laid there, Cosmo stretched in a tall arch before curling against her side. His eyes creased into a feline smile of contentment and his loud purr rumbled through her chest.
Hanamura grinned.
"We'll make it through all this," she told him gently. "Us outcasts have to stick together, right?"
Cosmo swished his tail in answer.
Reaching for her phone in her pocket, she played the voicemail her mother left her earlier that day.
Hi honey! Just calling to check in and see how everything's going. Looks like we're scheduled to arrive late Friday evening. Your dad got the neighbors to cover the store for us while we're away, said her mother, and between you and me, I told them to clear out some of the junk he's been holding onto. Did he tell you what he brought home yesterday?
Hanamura laughed softly as she listened to the antics of her father. By the sound of things, he had come across a treasure trove of unusual finds.
I swear, that'll be the last time he goes to an abandoned estate on his own, her mother grumbled. I don't want that creepy stuff in our workshop. Remember the mannequins? Anyway, I hope festival preparations are going well this week. Your father said you took the power drill back with you to school. Please be careful! I don't want you hurting yourself. Mrs. Yamauchi is excited to come. She'll be staying with us at the inn. We're so excited to see you!
The voicemail ended, leaving Hanamura staring at the ceiling with a knot in her stomach. If only her family knew the rules she had broken in the past 48 hours: perjury, identity fraud, breaking and entering, cooking up explosives, harboring five boys and a cat in her dorm room, false documentation, collusion, truancy…as she continued to tally her long list of crimes, Hanamura drifted into a troubled sleep.
A/N: Can you believe it's October? Where does the time go?! I wanted to update on my publishing anniversary, but boy – these last few chapters pack a punch. I apologize for another long wait. There were so many ideas I wanted to explore before I arrived at this version and even then, I ended up splitting it into two parts due to the length. But never fear, another installment is on the way!
"Let's Talk About It" – JUNGLE
Thank you so much for the incredible support and sticking with me on this joyride.
Until next time,
lavendermoonmilk