Chapter Thirty-Two

Thursday arrived and with it the long-awaited Student Government Council meeting. The last thing Fukuhara said to the art club before she left the studio was, "No matter what happens today, just know we did our best. There's no failure in trying." She stood at the windows, her head crowned in the late autumn sun. It had a virtuous effect, almost as if the heavens had chosen her as their champion.

"To achieve certain things, it is sometimes necessary to believe in luck," Fukuhara went on, casting her gaze around the room. "You've all done your part. But now–" her smile deepened "–it's my turn. Leave the rest to me. Sui–"

Yamada tensed. "Yes?"

"The club's yours to command. Make sure they stay busy. I don't want them pacing this afternoon."

Yamada swelled up with pride, nodding firmly. "Yes ma'am!"

Tashima was wringing her hands, sick with worry. The others stood in a somber mood, watching their president set aside her chisel and apron on the table. It had a symbolic weight to it, a warrior laying down her arms. Hanamura stepped away from her closet too, her tongue burning with the knowledge of Osakabe's note. She had held silent on the matter all week, unwilling to give it wings to fly, but as she watched Fukuhara excuse herself, she began to wonder if she was making a terrible mistake.

What if Fukuhara was headed into a trap?

"You heard her," said Yamada, taking her place as the de facto president. "Let's get to work."

And work they did.

Hanamura's reservations were quickly put to the side. There was simply too much to do and so little time. The majority of their afternoon was spent in rehearsal. They met Isami and the cheer squad on the rooftop, taking advantage of the beautiful weather to practice their dance routine. Showing up in their tracksuits with backpacks in hand, Hanamura held the fantasy in her mind that the art club was training to become the next big idol group. The breakneck pace with which Isami kept them moving added significantly to that illusion.

"Knock 'em down, Roll 'em around. Come on defense team, WORK!"

"WORK!"

"Steal their crown, Make 'em frown. Come on offense team, WORK!"

"WORK!"

"Suzume, try to stay with the rhythm! This cheer's supposed to help you keep your timing."

Isami signaled the beat with her pom-poms as they danced in teams of three. Some of the cheerleaders had joined in to provide one-on-one coaching, but Shizuka – ever the serious and observant one – kept a lookout near the railing. Her attention was fixed to the front gate and at two-thirty precisely, she spotted Principal Sato stepping into a cab. A few minutes later, Mrs. Osakabe strolled down the street toward the café, her face hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses.

"Oh my god, this might actually work," breathed Tashima as they all huddled around Shizuka.

"When does the meeting start?" Hanamura asked.

"In half an hour. President Fukuhara is the first to present," said Shizuka.

They did their best to continue practicing, everyone feeling giddy over the fact that their plan was working. Hanamura moved through her paces, following the gridline Isami had chalked onto the rooftop. Of all their side projects, this was definitely the most challenging. Isami had developed a choreography that was a complete departure from a cheer routine, making it twice as hard for the art club to learn.

For this, I looked at flight formations, she explained as she demonstrated the moves. Birds are natural dancers. When you go up on stage, I want you all to move like a flock in a storm: fluid, whimsical, but also – daring.

It was impressive. Beautiful, even. Something Hanamura was accustomed to seeing in a musical. But what Isami made to look effortless, the art club made to look exceedingly painful. Even now, they were a far cry from being whimsical. Izakaya was yet unable to complete the whole sequence without wheezing and collapsing to his knees, begging for water. Asano and Yamada had a tendency to mix up the moves. And Hanamura tangled herself with Tashima so often, they usually ended up in a heated argument before someone could yank them apart. The pressure was fraying away at their nerves. The frustration rising. Despite this, Isami maintained a serene smile even if her methods became increasingly more militant.

After another hour of artless twirling, the school bell began to toll.

"It's time," announced Shizuka. "The meeting ought to be wrapping up by now."

"Thank god," breathed Izakaya.

Everyone dropped what they were doing to put on their disguises. Hanamura settled her wig back over her head, combing it into place before zipping up her jacket. The tortoise-shell frames slipped down her nose but she nudged them as if she had worn them her whole life. In fact, she had grown so used to the ensemble, she hardly found it strange anymore. It was the cheerleaders who looked on with quiet bemusement, watching as Tashima pasted the witch's mole to her face with great equanimity.

"Congratulations. You've all earned your pom-poms today," said Isami, trying to hold back her laughter. "There's just one or two things we should iron out before Saturday, but all in all, you've become bona fide cheerleaders." She raised a hand, signaling to the squad for a salute. Their poms crinkled in the wind, bearing the same emotional gravity as a ceremonial sendoff. "Well done, everyone," she said. "You should be extremely proud of yourselves."

There was an overwhelming feeling of gratitude in reaction to her words. Of all their allies, the cheer squad had gone out and beyond to ensure their project was a success. Everything from campus surveillance to political intrigue, the cheer squad had demonstrated incredible skill. Hanamura felt a burst of warmth, finding Isami's confidence infectious. Even Tashima and Izakaya were moved.

"Come on. Let's go get our president," said Yamada.

Bowing graciously to the cheerleaders, they excused themselves from practice and fled the rooftop. By now, traveling undercover had become second nature. Tashima took the lead, navigating her way down the stairwell with Izakaya tight on her heels. Yamada and Asano walked side-by-side, leaving Hanamura to bring up the rear. They blended into the torrent of students in the halls, grateful that so many projects were still underway. But halfway down the second-floor corridor, Tashima stopped.

"Oh no," she groaned. "It's him! The cult composer!"

They tensed, peering over her shoulders.

Sure enough, a tall and intense-looking third year was making his way down the hall, his face pinched into a fearsome scowl. The light from the windows could do nothing to erase the dark fervor from his eyes as he shirked off his long woolen coat.

"Mark my words, Mika! Vengeance will be mine," Ryu declared as he dumped it over the small girl who was shadowing closely behind him. Mika teetered, her headband becoming skewed over her russet-brown hair. She had been carrying a stack of sheet music in her arms, the coat now an extra burden. Her face flushed with annoyance as she struggled to keep up.

Ryu paid no mind, rolling up his shirt sleeves as he said, "If those meddlesome mouthbreathers think they can get away without my magnum opus, my Triomphe de la vie, then they have another thing coming to them! Just you wait," he vowed as he raked fingers through his hair. "Once I trap that insipid little ringleader of theirs and force her to undo all the damage they've done, then...then we'll have something worthy of the stage. Mark my words, Mika! I won't stand for anything less."

There was a short pause in which Ryu blinked, confused that his declaration was not met with immediate approval. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted his understudy shifting the cargo in her arms, using the lockers as a brace.

"Well don't just stand there, Mika! Come on," he berated her impatiently. "I need you to be on the lookout for those studio brats. They could be crawling under our very noses as we speak!"

Mika offered him the darkest of looks.

Meanwhile, the art club swiveled on their feet ever so carefully, hoping to slink away in the opposite direction. Nothing could mobilize them faster than the whining, privileged, and overly inflated tones of the band director – nothing, that is, but the devil himself.

Hanamura gasped.

"What? What is it now?" asked Yamada.

"Guess Monster – straight ahead," she warned them. They glanced down the hall, spotting a bandana-clad Tendou ushering a procession of blackjack tables from the stairs. He held a radio in one hand and motioned to the deliverymen with his other. Heat tinged Hanamura's cheeks as she admired the way his hair stuck out at his temples, the dark cloth over his head turning him into a regular bandit. Like this, he was less of a boy and more of a man.

Her heart began to pound.

"Everyone, act natural!" Yamada ordered.

They scattered, taking up different activities across the hall to blend into their surroundings. Izakaya crouched over the water fountain, drinking as if his life depended on it. He made loud gulping noises as he gorged himself in a panic. Beside him, Tashima laughed shrilly as she forced herself into a group of girls chatting by the windows, her lips pulled back into a strained smile. Yamada and Asano ducked inside a nearby classroom, leaving Hanamura to take her place at the bulletin board.

A seditious excitement coiled in the pit of her stomach. Hanamura had to remind herself she wasn't Magpie Girl. Right now, she was a tame little shrew, and while the illusion seemed to be fooling Ryu with great success, she knew it would shatter under the eyes of the Guess Monster if she wasn't absolutely careful. One wrong move and it would be over.

"Everybody, make room!" Tendou called out above the chatter. "We got a casino coming through."

Hanamura pressed close to the wall, forcing herself to stay calm. Ryu and Mika worked their way past her, dodging the green tables with minor difficulty. They were far too preoccupied with the inconvenience to notice her which was a blessing. But just as she began to think Tendou would do the same, he moved off to the side, joining her near the board as he let the deliverymen go by.

"Just up the stairs there," he indicated with a tilt of his chin. "Taichi will meet you on the landing."

"Thanks," said one of the deliverymen.

Tendou rested a hand on his hip. The wide set of his shoulders slanted as he fidgeted with the radio. He was wearing the plum jumpsuit, the streaks of grease on his forearms a telltale sign he was still working for Akiko. Hanamura and the others had watched from the rooftop as the volleyball team labored in the sun, using the golf cart to transport equipment across campus. She thought it strange he chose to spend his time on festival work instead of roaming the school as a free agent. For someone who pledged to expose her secret, it seemed counterintuitive.

But then, there were several things about him she found odd. For instance, why did he sound so hungry? He was speaking with the same listless tone of someone who had skipped one too many meals. She thought he looked peckish, his face pale, his eyes ringed in shadow. As she studied him more, she paused at the sight of his hands. Why were his fingers wrapped in tape again? Was he hurt? And – Hanamura narrowed her eyes – why was he so fixed to that radio?

Tendou looked up and she quickly absorbed herself in the bulletin board once more, pretending to be deeply engrossed in a pamphlet on fractals. His eyes swept over her head to watch the tables, leaving her counting her breaths.

There was barely an arm's width between them.

"Ehem."

Hanamura jolted, finding Tashima giving her a wide-eyed look.

What the hell are you doing? Get out of there! She mouthed. Now! Before he sees!

The others had already moved on and were waiting for her anxiously at the end of the hall.

Hanamura hesitated.

Slowly, cautiously, she stepped behind him. The space was tight, but it afforded just enough room for her to skirt by unnoticed. Hanamura rested a hand on the corkboard for support, trailing fingers against the flyers. They spread out into little pinwheels. It was done unthinkingly and yet, to her horror, it was enough to draw his attention. Tendou cut his gaze over the ridge of his cheekbone, staring at her squarely between the shoulders.

"Hmm?"

Oh no!

Hanamura froze. The need to run was overwhelming, sending a chill down her spine. Despite this, she was rooted to the spot. The only thing standing between them now was a flimsy curtain of hair. That and the charade she was a meek, mild thing. Hanamura was neither, but as he considered her in his intense way, she could do nothing to quell the frantic beating of her heart.

"What's this?"

Tendou drew close, his shadow pooling at her feet. She felt the warmth of his hand extending, reaching out to her. Any moment now and the game would be over.

HELPDESK TO DISPATCH, came Akiko's voice over the radio. It blasted at full volume, causing them both to jump. HELPDESK TO DISPATCH. THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!

Hissing, Tendou quickly adjusted the radio's volume and held it to his mouth.

"Go for dispatch."

I need your help! The golf club's been detained near the east side of the soccer field. The llama slipped her pen again and chased them into the culvert. Think you can bail them out? They've been there all morning.

Tendou shifted on his feet. "Again? Can't we just leave them to sort it out themselves? Seems like they deserve it, boss."

There was a sigh. Tendou, please.

Hanamura took her chance at escape. She dove back into the crowd, taking dainty steps as if she were wearing a pair of shoes that were two sizes too small. It set her hair swinging against her back and she used it to mask the rigidity of her walk. Nevertheless, she could feel Tendou's displeasure at being called away, feel his eyes on her every move as she vanished amid the frenzy. The weight of his gaze was enough to disarm her, and it would be a small miracle if she didn't trip.

"On my way," came his slow reply.

Tendou lingered a moment longer before turning on his heel and leaving. The intensity left with him.

When Hanamura rejoined the others, she was met with stunned looks.

"Funny," said Tashima, "I don't recall 'Sitting Duck' being one of General Tzu's strategies."

She narrowed her eyes, making Hanamura flush.

"Hey! I made it, didn't I?"

"Barely," said Izakaya, looking nearly drowned himself. "We thought you were a goner."

Frowning, Asano stepped forward to fix Hanamura's wig. "We'll have to change up your disguise tomorrow. Something gave you away," she said, sounding perplexed. "I don't think he'll let this go."

Hanamura chewed her lip. She could see they didn't trust her to stay out of trouble. Ducking her chin under the collar of her jacket, she did her best to hide her blush.

Two more days, she reminded herself. Just two more days and then no more hiding. I'll show them.

. . . . . . . . .

The council room was housed at the end of the east wing. As they made their way past the auditorium and rounded the corner, they found Fukuhara and Kazane in close conference with none other than the President of the Student Government Council herself.

Hanamura slowed down, taking her in for the first time. The president was surprisingly short, her features rounded like those of a child. She had long pale hair that was loose and ran past her shoulders, but even more so, she had the palest lashes that framed a pair of the most unusual gray eyes. Like opals, thought Hanamura. The lights in the hall cast her in an ethereal shine as she stood before Fukuhara.

"That was an impressive speech, Noriko. You had us all moved to tears," she said, her voice soft and dreamy. "That anecdote about the eight-year-old boy who learned how to paint despite losing both of his arms in a car accident–" she placed a hand over her heart as she caught her breath "–Even the school secretary was not immune."

Fukuhara bowed. "Thank you, Madam President."

"When Kazane came to me about your pitch, I must admit I was intrigued. This is the first I've seen the art club become so…vocal." She turned to Kazane with a knowing look. "You did not disappoint me."

Kazane grinned. "Do I ever?"

The president gave a warm laugh.

"Ma'am, you have a four-thirty with the School Board," one of her attendants murmured politely.

She smiled.

"I'm afraid duty calls," she said with an air of polite regret. She shook hands with Fukuhara and Kazane one last time before departing with her retinue of officials.

Hanamura waited covertly with the others before it was safe to approach Fukuhara.

"So? How'd it go?" Yamada asked.

Fukuhara and Kazane turned to face them.

"Margaret Thatcher couldn't have done a better job," said Kazane proudly, making Fukuhara blush. They were both dressed in their school uniforms, Fukuhara wearing a bronze pin of a paintbrush and palette on her lapel. She was clutching a paper to her chest and quickly displayed it for them all to see.

"We did it! The art club's been approved!" She beamed. "We won the majority vote!"

Cheers erupted in the hall as the art club rejoiced, but they quickly piped down as Fukuhara held a finger to her lips. Smiling, she ushered them over by the water fountain where they could talk.

"How did you do it?" Tashima demanded. "I mean – how did you get it by the secretary?"

"Was it a referendum?" Yamada asked.

Izakaya adjusted his glasses over his fake nose, peering at the slip. "Is it authentic?"

Fukuhara was glowing. Everything about her was shiny and pressed as if she had just come off stage. She was exuding a strange calmness – the calmness of someone who had gone straight into the lion's den and come out the other end alive. She was untouchable.

"He threw in a rejection five minutes into my presentation, but the council overrode it–"

"–each presenter must be given eight minutes to speak without interruption," explained Kazane, "and a person can only give one rejection during a single presentation. A little parliamentarian trick I like to play from time to time," she added with a wink.

"–so after that, he couldn't say anything until I finished," said Fukuhara, "which by then, I had the whole council in tears."

Kazane rolled her shoulders smugly, stating, "He would have come across as the biggest bigot of the century had he pursued his objection. We made absolutely sure of that."

They listened intently as Fukuhara gave a close account of the proceedings, their faces filling with awe as she painted an epic picture of student government conduct. Fukuhara's presentation had launched a heated debate which was followed by a lengthy cross-examination by members of the disciplinary committee until the issue was finally brought to a vote. As Hanamura listened to Fukuhara, she was stunned by the incredible hoops she had to jump through as club president. Such a leadership role was not for the faint of heart.

"After the votes were tallied, the President of the Disciplinary Committee walked out," said Fukuhara, sounding smug. "She could see she had no recourse with both the principal and Osakabe gone."

There were more cheers, but they were careful this time, stifling them into whispers.

A great and terrible burden seemed to have lifted from their shoulders, and Hanamura drifted to the windows in a daze. She surveyed the lawns, marveling at the neat rows of pitched white tents, the garlands of flowers and fish kites lining the sidewalks, but most importantly the outdoor stage that stood like a beacon in the courtyard. In less than 48 hours, their vision would come to fruition. They were so close to succeeding.

Her hands tightened at her sides.

"Suzume, are you coming? We're off to celebrate."

Pulling her gaze from the windows, she found the art club waiting.

"Hmm? Oh." She nudged her glasses, rubbing her eyes with a smile. It was strange. After jumping through so many hurdles, all she wanted to do right now was curl up somewhere to sleep. She was so tired. "You guys go on ahead. I think…I think I'll go rest in the library for a bit," she decided. "Meet you in the studio later tonight?"

"Okay," said Asano slowly, lingering. "Sure you don't want us to bring you back anything? A snickerdoodle perhaps?"

Hanamura shook her head. "No, don't worry about me. Go enjoy yourselves. You deserve it!"

"Alright," said Asano, still hesitant. "If you insist."

"How about some lattes?" Izakaya asked the group. "I'm thinking cinnamon pumpkin swirl."

There was staunch agreement.

"Ooh yes! And pastries too," Yamada agreed. "Think we can get some of those almond fritters?"

Hanamura watched them leave through the double doors at the end of the hall, the grounds cast in a rich, golden hue. A chill rushed through the open doorway, causing her to shiver. She relished it. It was gratifying to know that all her misgivings had turned out to be simply that – misgivings. Their careful planning had paid off, a testament to the power of teamwork. Hanamura allowed herself to relax fully to the idea that everything would work out on Saturday.

Her friends had made sure of that.

Relieved, Hanamura turned away from the council room, thinking she might swipe a chocolate milk from the cafeteria on her way to the library. She would be pulling another late night, but a small nap would be enough to restore her energy. As she dwelled on the wild success of their diversion, her thoughts drifted to Principal Sato and Osakabe, and she wondered what they made of their bizarre meeting. Where they still there at the café, going around in circles?

Hanamura gasped. "The meeting!"

Spinning around, she quickly took off after her friends. It would be terrible luck if they intercepted the principal or Osakabe on their way to get coffee. Hanamura nearly reached the double doors when another body zipped down the hall.

"Hanamura! Hanamura!"

Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted a familiar scrawny first-year sprinting down the corridor with his teeth flashing in fear.

"Kinji?"

"Thank god I found you! We're in a bit of a pickle."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"The science lab – it's being raided," warned Kinji. "I was sent to sound the alarm!"

Hanamura tasted bile in her throat. "What? Now?"

Kinji nodded, glancing down the hall as he removed a large satchel from under his lab coat. He passed it to her urgently.

"Oshiro wanted me to give you a message," he whispered. "The turtles fly at midnight."

Hanamura peered into the bag, finding it full to the brim with black powder. It caught at the fluorescent lights, sparkling like diamonds. Her heart began to race.

"And the disciplinary committee?"

"Roaming the corridors as we speak." He reached down to fix his slipper. "A diversion's set to go off in five minutes." He cut his gaze to her. "Think you can make it?"

Hanamura swallowed. The bag of charcoal was heavy in her hands, and the situation was suddenly daunting. She nodded faintly. "I think so."

"Stash it somewhere safe where they can't find it," Kinji bade her. "They're looking for evidence."

He took off running again, his brown hair flopping anxiously.

Swarmed by adrenaline, Hanamura clutched the bag as she quickly darted into the nearest stairwell. The note on Osakabe's desk had been a warning after all, and here she was, completely unprepared! She thought to raise the alarm by calling the others, but as she fished inside her pocket for her phone, she came to an abrupt halt.

The worst possible situation was unfolding on the second-floor landing. Two girls and a boy – all wearing purple armbands – were blocking students from leaving the hall without first turning out their pockets. A boy was forced to empty his lunchbox, going so far as to peel his banana to prove it was nothing more than a piece of fruit. He caught gazes with Hanamura, and the guilt must have been clearly etched on her face for he turned his head slightly to the side.

"What? What are you looking at?" The boy with the purple armband glanced down the steps.

Hanamura froze.

"You! There! Girl with the red hair. Come here," he ordered. "We're in the middle of an investigation. Everyone's to be searched. Committee rules."

Hanamura did the only thing she could think of – she ran.

"Wha – HEY!" The boy shouted. "Absolutely no running in the school! HALT! I said HALT! AFTER HER!"

The trio dropped what they were doing and took off down the stairs.

"Vice deputy requesting backup!" The boy said into his radio. "We have a suspect on the run: redhaired female with glasses, first-year, carrying a drawstring backpack–! She's headed on foot toward the west stairwell–! Over."

Copy. What's your location?

"First floor, cafeteria, on the east side," he wheezed. "Suspect might be a track runner–! Difficult to catch–! Over."

Copy. We're on our way!

"Seal the exits–! Don't let her escape–!"

Hanamura groaned as the doors leading into the courtyard were barricaded from inside. Two boys stood like sentries, ready to apprehend her. As she cast her gaze across the cafeteria, she could see students stopping what they were doing to watch, curious as to why the disciplinary committee was in full pursuit. It was a high-speed chase.

Hanamura panicked.

What do I do now? She thought wildly.

There were no alternatives. She would simply have to climb. The chances of getting trapped in the school were higher, but she had to trust that her time spent running from the Guess Monster had primed her for such a challenge. It was imperative she stay on the move. If she could get somewhere safe, she could contact the others for help. There was still time to salvage the situation.

A loud BOOM went off suddenly, rattling the school and sending a ceiling tile smashing to the floor. It crumbled into shards of dust, causing everyone to gasp.

"What was that?" said the boy with the purple armband, coming to a sliding halt.

"An explosion? Sounded like it came from the second floor," said one of the guards near the doors.

"Look!"

They all peered up at the ceiling, watching as pastel-colored smoke began to waft through the tiles. It was the color of Easter eggs.

That must be the diversion Kinji warned me about, thought Hanamura.

Central command to all units–! Several radios buzzed in alarm. The science club has set off another Rainbow Flame Demonstration on the second floor. This is a Code Red Violation–! I repeat – this is a Code Red Violation–! Offenders will be punished–! Apprehend all suspects–!

"You," the boy accused Hanamura, "are going to pay for this! There's a chair in the principal's office with your name on it." He motioned to the guards. "Get her!"

Hanamura took off again, this time deep into the bowels of the school. She raced past the vending machines, past the restrooms, and past the front lobby. Her slippers skated over the tiles, causing her to slip and slide as she struggled to gain traction. The explosion had given her a head start, but the others were gaining on her, no amount of innocent bystanders capable of slowing them down.

I have to lose them, she decided, but how?

She was in the center of the west wing. Arriving at a set of metal doors, Hanamura threw herself at them, crashing into another stairwell. A haze of mint green smoke drifted over the stairs, along with the overwhelming smell of rotten eggs. Coughing, she drew a sleeve over her nose and pressed on. Her whole body – already having been subjected to hours of dance practice in the sun – was inflamed, everything from her feet to her thighs to her jaw which was clenched tight as she raced to the fourth floor. To her complete and utter dismay, however, an ambush was waiting for her on the top landing. Three prim-looking girls stood with their arms stretched wide, holding a fishing net between them.

"Gotcha," said the tallest one with a vindictive grin. "Nowhere to run, you little troublemaker! You're good and trapped now."

Footsteps thundered up the stairs, the boy and two girls cutting off her escape.

Hanamura dropped her shoulders.

Later, she would blame it on the adrenaline or the lack of foresight or the fact that she hadn't slept properly in several days and subsisted mainly on a diet of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Regardless of her motivation, she was an animal cornered and her very survival was at stake. Without hesitation, she hopped over the banister, letting her feet find purchase on the wall as she dangled by her hands. There was a fair amount of distance between her and the stairs below. If she didn't land just right, a sprained ankle would be the least of her worries. Even so, she had to try.

Bottom's up! She thought frantically, taking a breath to steady herself.

"Wait! Don't jump," someone screamed. "We can talk about this!"

Hanamura let go, spurning several more screams. There was a tightness in her stomach as gravity took over, but then the ground rushed up to meet her and she landed awkwardly on her knees. The impact numbed her legs; her shin pressed into the edge of the upper stair, causing her to cry out in pain. Hanamura hissed through clenched teeth.

That would leave a nasty bruise.

She couldn't wait for the smarting to subside. She had to press on. Lurching back onto her feet, she fled the stairs to the third floor. Her legs were wobbly from the fall, and she had to blink back tears of pain, but she had slipped from many trees in her life and knew she would be alright. She had landed well.

The first-year corridor was home territory, but as Hanamura searched for a place to hide, she realized there were very few places that wouldn't leave her solidly trapped. With a hollow, sinking feeling, she knew she had to keep running. She would have to clear the hall before more reinforcements showed up. But could she make it?

Only one way to find out.

Taking off at a hobbled sprint, Hanamura ignored the pain in her legs as she aimed for the opposite stairs. Passing the first homeroom on the left, she glanced anxiously over her shoulder to see if the others were catching up. The moment she turned her head; though, her body slammed into something warm. The force knocked the air right from her lungs, stunning her completely. The drawstring bag slipped from her shoulder and skidded across the floor, but a pair of strong hands caught her before she fell. Panting, Hanamura peered up at her savior through ragged red hair, feeling both terror and relief.

"It is you," Tendou murmured, the surprise evident in his voice. Though his brow was furrowed, his mouth thinned considerably. "So this is how you've been hiding from me…little miss shy." He cast his gaze over her, his amusement quickly turning diabolic. As he peered at the drawstring bag; however, he saw the jet-black powder spilling from its open mouth and his humor vanished. "With gunpowder?"

"Satori, I–"

The suspect's on the third floor! I repeat, the suspect's on the third floor! Over.

The radio clipped to Tendou's hip fired off and they both looked up, finding the disciplinary committee gathering in the mouth of the stairwell.

Tendou bared his teeth. "You're in deep trouble now, champ. The hounds have caught your scent."

Hanamura peered at him imploringly. She was fresh out of ideas and the desperation on her face must have been rousing for him to see. His brows shot up and he breathed very deeply through his nose.

"Right. Let's see how well they parley with a wolf."

Tendou snatched the bag from the floor and hooked an arm around her waist, gallantly drawing her into the janitorial closet where he pressed her against the wall. There, Hanamura tried to gather her bearings. His arm was a bar of steel, his fingers digging into her ribs. He cast her an inscrutable look, eyeing the tawny hair, the glasses, the freckles dusting her cheeks. His mouth curved. He could no doubt feel the rapid beating of her heart.

"Don't move," he ordered, making her flush. He handed over the bag, saying "This'll take some mad improvisation. Luckily, it's one of my many talents."

He rolled his neck then, shaking his whole body loose as he flexed his fingers. At once, he was no longer Satori Tendou, but the sly and cunning red devil of the court. He kicked a wet sign into the entryway just as footsteps roared outside in the hall.

"Spread out," ordered the boy from earlier. "Secure the floor. She can't have gone far."

"Yes sir!"

There was a break-off as several pairs of feet fanned out amid the classrooms.

"Tanabe. Fuse. Stay close to me," he ordered next, causing two girls to voice their agreement. "Look for clues. Anything that seems out of order."

One of the girls gasped. "Goro, look! On the floor."

The boy stopped. "Tanabe, hand me my gloves."

"Yes sir!"

There was a moment of speculation.

"Hmm…appears to be charcoal residue. The trail leads…" his voice tapered "there. By the fountain!"

Hanamura clutched the bag, her mouth filling with the taste of pennies. She shared a terrified look with Tendou, but he merely smirked, going so far as to trace tongue over teeth.

"Ah ah ah. Don't you see the sign? Closet's out of order," he said, emerging from the shadows in his full intimidating stature. "You'll want the next one."

There was a pause. Even without being able to see, Hanamura knew his presence had caught them all by surprise. His body filled the doorway, his chest open and wide. Even his voice took on a lingering hiss much like that of a rattlesnake. When Goro spoke again, it was with significantly less confidence.

"S-Step aside–!" he squeaked. He fell silent, coughed, then said in a much deeper voice "–That is…Step aside, Guess Monster. We're commandeering this closet. Disciplinary Committee business."

Another pause. A flashing of armbands, no doubt.

"Sorry guys. No can do," said Tendou, draping an arm across the doorway. "No one's allowed in here."

"And why's that?"

Unwilling to stand there useless, Hanamura grabbed one of the mops leaning against the wall and thrust it at Tendou. He took it, twirling it between his two hands so that the dampened mop head, its soiled gray ropes, plopped right onto Goro's slipper with a loud splat!

"I'm assigned to clean this whole thing. Coach's orders."

Goro backed away.

"You will do no such thing," he said with a tinge of disgust. "We're in the middle of an investigation! You're in our way. Now move!"

Tendou tilted his chin. "I don't think you grasp the situation." He leaned against the doorframe, using the mop as a polearm. The air around him was suddenly treacherous. "You see – I'm serving detention which clearly states in the student handbook under Article D, Subsection B, Paragraph 3 that it much be carried out–"

"–in the manner which it was given," finished Goro with a touch of exasperation. "Yes, yes, we know!"

Hanamura watched the corner of Tendou's mouth lift.

"Ah. Then you understand why I can't let you through."

Again there was another pause, only this time the boy and two girls seemed to be exchanging looks, wondering how to navigate this sudden disciplinary faux pas. Were they willing to break the student handbook in favor of pursuing their chase?

Evidently, the answer was yes.

"As Vice Deputy of the Disciplinary Committee, I, Officer Goro Machida, override this detention on the grounds that we have reasonable suspicion for a search warrant!" He declared hotly in the hall. "There's a fugitive on the loose and she could be hiding in this very closet. We have the right to suspend this detention until further notice."

"By all means," said Tendou amiably, making Hanamura balk. "But, I wouldn't step foot in here if I were you. I doubt the runaway would either. You see–" he reached out and stuck his hand in the bag of gunpowder, grabbing a handful and sprinkling it onto the floor "–a printer cartridge leaked and there's black ink everywhere." He held up his hand which was now covered in soot. "It's gonna take me at least two days to clean it up. Maybe three if you continue to interrupt me."

The disciplinary committee drew back, aghast.

"What? How did this happen? Printer cartridges don't go in the janitorial closet–"

"–they go in the recycle bin in the library. I know." Tendou shook his head, sharing in their outrage. "Imagine how I feel. I got stuck with the cleanup."

"Who did this?"

"The Demon Coach. Who else?"

"No – not who gave you detention! The culprit!"

"Oh." Tendou scratched his cheek, forgetting his hand was coated in black. He left a stripe down the length of his face. "Hmm…it was a kid…first year, I think…missing both of his eyebrows," he said offhandedly. "Someone like that."

Goro straightened. "Nishioka? But he's the festival committee's secretary!"

"Is he now?" Tendou continued to act oblivious. "Well, I don't know for sure, but I saw what I saw."

There was another lengthy pause, and Hanamura thought she was going to pass out from how long she had been holding her breath. Her legs were badly swollen, her whole body trembling with nerves. She wasn't sure they were going to let this go, but to her greatest bewilderment, the disciplinary committee backed down.

"Alright, alright. Let's circle back to this once we locate the fugitive," Goro decided at last. "We'll launch a full investigation once we apprehend the girl. She could be carrying contraband."

Tanabe and Fuse voiced their agreement.

"Good luck!" Tendou waved to them with a generous grin. "Happy hunting."

They set off in a clipped, fast-paced walk. As their footsteps disappeared down the hallway, Hanamura allowed herself the chance to decompress. Sudden unreasonable happiness took hold of her, filling her up with pure elation. Drawing the strings tight on the backpack, she joined Tendou as he poked his head around the corner to make sure the coast was clear.

"Phew! That was a close one," she sighed.

Only as the words left her mouth did the air shift and she felt a tingling at her neck. Tendou had cut his gaze to her and, dressed as he was with black bandana and shirt sleeves pushed up, reminded her of a ronin who had diverted the village watch so as to carry out his own devious deed. One that involved trapping a girl inside a utility closet.

Hanamura tensed.

"Erm…G-Great teamwork back there!" She chirped, suddenly light on her feet. "We really showed them, didn't we?" A nervous laugh bubbled to her lips as he shifted in the doorway, tightening the space to the point she felt the corner press into her back. She reached out and patted his arm, knowing full well it was the wrong thing to do. "Thanks for the help. If you'll excuse me."

Hanamura took one step into the hall before an arm shot across the doorway, blocking her escape.

"Oh, I don't think so. You're not going anywhere, Su-zu-hime."

Hanamura shivered. Tendou was no longer playacting. All the lines in his body shifted, curling, relaxing into something infinitely more threatening. His head rolled back, his eyes dead set on hers as he slowly backed her into the shadows.

"Satori, what are you–?"

"–You seem to be under the impression this is a rescue. Saved by the hero. That's what you're thinking, isn't it?" He tilted his chin, watching with delight as she squirmed under his gaze. Hanamura felt every bit the damsel in distress as his lips thinned into a leer. "But I'm no hero and this is no rescue." His eyes flashed. "Of that, I can assure you."

Hanamura clutched the bag of gunpowder to her chest, berating herself for thinking this was what she wanted. This feeling of standing so close to a fire, his aura so bright and blistering and too much to bear all at once. It was intense. Already her knees were dissolving under the weight of his gaze. There was nothing she could do as he pried the bag from her hands, letting it fall to the floor as he trapped her against the wall.

"Now," Tendou hummed, drawing out the word into a whisper, "where were we?"

Hanamura lifted her hands as a final safeguard, but he must have anticipated this for he caught both of her wrists, forming his fingers into manacles as he swiftly bound her hands behind her. The sharp edges of his taped fingers caught at her skin, sending gooseflesh up her arms. With the buffer now gone, her chest rose and pressed tightly against his, and the contact elicited a sigh that made her sound so terribly vulnerable. Like this, she was defenseless. Tendou must have realized this too for he lifted her up, forcing her to balance on the toes of her left foot.

She was completely at his mercy.

Tendou held still. His mind was at work, her rival coming to the forefront with his smoke-rimmed eyes and cruel intentions. He had her good and trapped and was savoring it much like a cat with a bird between its claws. His gaze drifted to her mouth.

"You put on a good chase, I'll give you that," he whispered. "You've driven me to the point of madness. No one's gotten under my skin the way you have. But–" he paused, nuzzling his cheek against hers, rubbing granules of gunpowder between them "–you should know by now this monster always gets what he wants."

His voice melted her into honey. If words could touch, his were a scorching caress down her spine. Tilting her head back, Hanamura peered at him mutedly, her cheeks searing with heat.

What could she do? Trapped in the arms of her rival, where space was nonexistent and she could feel the steady rhythm of his heart, Hanamura felt safest. She felt alive. He had to know how badly she wanted to kiss him – arrogance and all. It colored her every shaky breath with desire.

Tendou seemed to like the state she was in. He liked it very much.

"Hn," he murmured, "I'm going to enjoy this."

Hanamura parted her lips to speak, but it was far too late. Tendou seized her in a biting kiss, pressing her up against the wall with his body. There was no space left between them, pinned as she was on her tiptoes. Her hands were caught, her head forced back to lay flush with the cold plaster. The mop fell over, making a soft clatter on the floor which reminded her that the disciplinary committee was just outside, searching the hall. But the thought quickly fell to the wayside as her attention fixated on the strong lines of his profile pressing into her, the sudden swirl of his tongue in her mouth. His presence overwhelmed her, inflaming her senses.

Her heart was ready to burst inside her chest the moment his fingers slipped under both jacket and shirt to caress her side, the coolness of his hand, the roughness of the tape, an added shock against her hot skin. And still, he deepened the kiss.

Hanamura responded immediately, but much like a dance, Tendou was in the lead, eliciting responses from her that were quickly growing outside her control. In a matter of seconds, that limp, azure feeling overtook her like a wave, dragging her out into sun-dappled waters. And with it, a sigh of indescribable pleasure escaped her throat as her body dissolved into a bright flare of light. This small admission only served to encourage him. Tendou caught her lower lip between his teeth and nipped it softly.

Oh no.

Hanamura couldn't help herself. She broke the kiss, pausing to take a long, cool draught of air to clear her head, but also to tilt her face so that he might have free reign of her neck and shoulder – an invitation to consume her fully.

But instead of accepting, Tendou withdrew.

"What's this? Giving up so soon?" He asked. "Whatever happened to that fighting spir – Suzume?"

The moment he let go, Hanamura collapsed to the floor at his feet. Her shoulder slumped against the wall, and she was only just able to catch herself by her palms. It was a shock to them both. She was burning from the inside out, her vision swimming in a dreamlike haze. It felt as if her coordination had been tossed out the window.

Tendou sank to his heels.

"What is it? What's wrong?" He asked her urgently. Reaching out, he placed a hand on her arm. There was a note of hesitancy when he asked, "Was it too much?"

Hanamura shook her head, the action causing the room to spin as her face became swollen by heat. She was embarrassed. Never before had she had this strong of a reaction, losing control of her body so completely.

"No," she stammered after a moment, leaning back against the wall. She stayed there, helpless. The heat continued to undulate in waves, her body a hot spring of sensations. "It's just…you've gotten really really good at that." She lifted her gaze, still trying to catch her breath. "Too good," she added hoarsely. "I can't feel my legs."

Tendou froze, all the muscles in his face relaxing in shock. But then, a telltale enjoyment overcame him as he tilted his chin.

"Oh?" the softness of his voice made her tremble. There was a devilish pride in that voice – full of heat and laughter. "You liked it that much, huh?" His grin deepened. "Being caught by the huntsman."

Hanamura stared at him in a there's-no-need-to-gloat kind of way. But Tendou wasn't paying attention. He was fixated on her disheveled state on the floor, gazing at all of her with open fascination. It was as if he was appreciating his handiwork, a craftsman assessing the splendor of his skill, the effectiveness of his labor. There wasn't a single ounce of smugness in his face, only a bright, boyish delight that made him terribly handsome. Hanamura saw her vulnerability reflected in his gaze, and it made her feel more precious than any flower or gem or color observed by the naked eye.

No wonder she had fallen; he made every cell in her body feel alive. She had never experienced it with such intensity before. Gone was the body, and in its place, an overwhelming feeling of formlessness.

Tendou's hand trailed from her arm to her face, catching her chin. His other crept slowly up her thigh.

"I'll take special care to remember this," he told her softly, "the next time you feel inclined to keep a secret from me–" he lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze " – for I know your weakness now."

He smiled then: the crooked smile of a demon.

Hanamura huffed. "You'll never give up, will you?"

"Do you want me to?"

His face was red, his mouth raw. Hanamura said nothing. What she wanted was to go on kissing him and so she grabbed the collar of his shirt and drew him close. But where his kiss had been a tidal wave, sweeping her off her feet, hers was a molten, syrupy press of mouths; soft and imploring. The sweetness of it spilled over, bringing Tendou down onto his palms as he crouched over her. Hanamura lifted up on her bruised knees to meet him and the subtle shift in position was enough to transform their battle into an act of tender truce-making.

"I've missed you," she said against his lips, her own voice ribbon-soft in her ears. It cast a spell over him, turning his eyes into dark garnet. Tendou looked starved. For what, she couldn't be sure. Only that any moment, they would devour each other.

"I've been so worried about you," he whispered back. It sent a shock of pain through her chest and she kissed him again so that she might soothe his fears. The adrenaline that had worked itself into a bundled knot in her stomach was unraveling now, and Hanamura forgot all about the chase, the fall, the danger as she thanked her savior with sweet, savory caresses along his upper lip.

In this place of surrender, the world seemed to dissolve around them and Hanamura welcomed it. But all at once, Tendou stiffened, the whites of his eyes glowing around pupils that were bright and slivered like a cat's. Grabbing her shoulders, he lifted his head.

"Do you hear that?"

Hanamura blinked at him in confusion.

"Hear what?"

Tendou swiveled on his heels, searching, waiting, listening. The set of his jaw grew stern. Hanamura peered at him curiously, wondering what on earth could cause him such distress as to have him eyeing the door with feverish intensity. But then – like spotting the solitary gray fin of a shark in open waters – a heavy, ragged breath could be heard outside in the hall. It grew louder in volume, drawing closer and closer. Hanamura recognized it at once.

"Chiyo," they whispered in unison.

Tendou let out a pained whimper.

"She's been stalking me for days now," he groaned. "Something to do with a seashell diorama she's made me. I can't bring myself to see it."

Hanamura broke into a grin, finding the situation comical until a second voice filled the hall.

"Alright, bug eyes. Which way did he go?"

Ryu's words cracked like a whip, and Hanamura was suddenly gripping Tendou's arms with equal alarm. Her eyes matched his as she peered at the doorway in horror.

"Are you a fan?" Chiyo asked him warily. "Because you should know I'm his number one fangirl," she declared, "which means there isn't enough room for the two of us."

Ryu scoffed. "Don't be absurd, you daft creature! I'm after the girl," he hissed. "Wherever the demon is, the witch is guaranteed to be nearby. You know his whereabouts better than anyone."

Chiyo seemed to preen at this statement, taking it as a great compliment. "Why, yes. Yes, I do."

"Then tell me, where does he run off to this late in the afternoon?"

To this, Hanamura and Tendou both blanched.

"My guess would be the broom closet."

When Hanamura met gazes with Tendou again, a look of total anguish passed between them. They were nothing more than a pair of sitting ducks and the tide had brought a new threat inside their cove – one that neither of them could escape without drawing attention. As this realization sank in, a quiet dignity overtook Tendou and she saw the sacrifice harden his eyes. Releasing his hold of her arms, he cupped her face.

"Remember me fondly," he whispered. Then, as if it were their last, he kissed her ardently before tugging a roll of black trash bags over her head to shield her from view. Springing to his feet, he ran a hand over his bandana and flashed her a roguish grin.

"HAH! YOU'LL NEVER CATCH ME!" Tendou bellowed at the top of his lungs.

He belted with wild laughter. And then he was gone.

A/N: Okay, okay, I've held onto this chapter long enough. This was as close as I could get to circling the T-rating without breaking any rules. All that tension and delayed gratification had to result in some kind of explosion, am I right? (Literally and figuratively...) Phew! With that being said, I'm excited to explore new terrain in the Paris story I've got cooking in the background. But enough about me – how are you? It's been a while, hasn't it? I hope you are doing well and enjoying the fall season. Has pumpkin spice consumed your every waking moment yet? It has for me. Bought some pumpkin cheese at the grocery store and it was delightful.

In the spirit of being thankful this month, I wanted to give a big THANK YOU to everyone who has been following this story and leaving such kind comments. You've put a lot of momentum behind this idea and it's helped me grow so much as a writer. For that, I am incredibly grateful.

"Breaking Out (The Cowboy Escapes)" – Daniel Pendleton

"Trouble" – Annella

"Revenge, And a Little Bit More" – Unlike Pluto

The next chapter is something I've been dying to write from the very beginning and I can't wait to delve into it over the holiday break. You all have been so patient with my extended update schedule. Don't worry, we're still going strong!

Until next time,

lavendermoonmilk