Took me a while with this one! First it was the issues with the site overall, then it was a whole ordeal to block all of the spam accounts that popped up (still blocking lmao my block list should NOT be as long as it is now), and then it was the struggle to get past one of the POVs because I was hitting a wall with it. But it's here! The final introductions to the OCs! And also the first zombie!
Not sure when the next chapter will come out, but I'm hoping to do it at the very least by January. If not, then bully for me I guess? Anyway, lemme know what you guys think of the last batch of OCs, and if you didn't get the email alert and are a bit confused/didn't see your OC introduced, remember that the email alerts were down when I updated last! You might not have seen chapter 2!
03
Is it worth seeing Takarazuka Revue's new performance? 「Jiyū e no Katsubō」
Article published 2009/03/27
Published by user golden_Kirakira
Hello my sparklies! Sorry for my extended hiatus. Child rearing is a lot more difficult than people talk about publicly. But little one and I are recovered from our stay at the hospital and my husband has been able to take time off work to keep me from burning out from everything all at once!
Since I was able to get some time to myself, and I have a lot less anxiety leaving a ten-month-old with his papa alone for a couple of hours, I decided to treat myself to a night out to a new performance from everyone's favourite troupe!
For those unfamiliar with the newest work from Takarazuka Revue, Jiyū e no Katsubō, here's the plot: In a bid to earn her freedom from her very traditional, very powerful family, the main heroine competes with her brother, the villain of the performance who seeks the same freedom as her, in order to take control of the family as its potential heir so that she can remake the family to be more fair and accepting of her forbidden love with a rival family's beautiful daughter, and in order to pull the task off she enlists the help of her beloved's brother, who poses as the heroine's fiance.
Jiyū e no Katsubō saw the debut of the newest member of the troupe, Tsunematsu Sumire, and my sparklies, she is phenomenal as the villainous brother! Every moment she was on stage, she commanded such a presence that almost everyone was swooning! The way she posed a genuine threat to her fellow actors, the way she threw that masterfully made sledgehammer prop around on stage, she was so perfect! My sparklies, you have to remind me that I married the perfect man already! You can't let me become a poor maiden who yearns for a fictional man!
I immensely enjoyed the performance. It was a very daring performance on Takarazuka Revue's part, and if any of my sparklies are himejoshis, you simply MUST go see this one! I give Jiyū e no Katsubō a score of 3.98 sparkles out of 5!
Tokonosu.
So this was the city Kina had moved to.
It was a long way from Takarazuka, that much was for sure. That bus ride was a killer, and Seitaro was almost ready to throw in the towel when he found out the drive was almost six hours long. Making his way from Osaka to Takarazuka with no money to his name had felt like an easier ordeal than this bus trip. The frequent stops overnight to get food, the refuels that gave everyone a chance to stretch their legs, the constant head leaning on his shoulder and snoring the entire trip, the chatter of everyone on either end of the bus—when he'd bought a train ticket to Takarazuka, he hadn't experienced nearly this much unruliness and in-your-face personal space invading to such a degree.
He was more than eager to get off the bus when it came to a stop at their hotel in Tokonosu. He couldn't handle another hour of this torture.
But Kina was definitely the biggest reason why he wanted out of that thing.
He popped the top button of his shirt and let out a sigh as he stretched his legs. He pushed his hair out of his face, watching as the girls all stepped off the bus one by one, and Seitaro wondered if maybe this trip could've waited until this morning, not last night. They'd all gone to bed early, sure, and they may have left at three in the morning for this, but was it really worth reaching the hotel by nine to check in?
According to the senior members, it absolutely was worth reaching the hotel by nine. Rooms were assigned, keys were handed out, and every single one of them lugged their suitcases to their rooms and began the same old process of picking who got the bed closest to the window, to the bathroom, to the dining area. Once, just once, Seitaro would love to be the lucky bastard who got a room to himself—there was always one of them, he thought, but it was always luck of the draw, and Seitaro liked to think himself lucky enough to not have to put up with this bullshit every damn time. But, as the saying went, shit happened.
He rationalised that he'd used up quite a bit of luck already before coming to Tokonosu. Sharing a room with two girls wasn't the worst thing in the world, and only one of them was annoying as shit, so it wasn't a total bust. What had really mattered in his luck was the leads he'd found and the private investigator he'd hired. All it'd taken was one Facebook post, so innocuous and juvenile that most people wouldn't know to pounce on such a thing—but he'd seen Kina's face in the post, proud and holding an award in her school uniform, and Seitaro had felt like something in the world was finally righting itself.
Everything had gone to shit when Kina had moved away. No, maybe that wasn't accurate—everything had always been shit even before meeting Kina. But Kina's presence brought a stability that Seitaro hadn't realised he'd craved, and all it had taken was five years of no longer having Kina around for him to actually clock how much of his emotional state had been tied to that little girl who'd been his well-meaning and encouraging next door neighbour. All he'd had was a previous address and a first name, which was hardly enough for a PI to work with—but then that Facebook post last year, showing Kina among that year's class representatives during a community event, had fallen into his lap like it was fate.
His best friend was glowing, just like she always did.
She would be graduating this year, and Seitaro wondered what path she'd take in university. He knew her full name now—Ichinomiya Kina—and he knew she still liked to help people wherever she could, and that she still wore her hair in that silly half-braid she kept pinned to her head. But it'd been five years since the two had seen each other. Things changed in five years—Kina had no way of knowing Seitaro would become an actor, let alone one associated with Takarazuka Revue, and Seitaro had no clue if the interests of a thirteen-year-old Kina still applied to her at eighteen. Seitaro could argue he was the same as he was at fifteen, albeit better at concealing his true self, but that was thanks to the troupe's Sumire Code aiding his more masculine traits. It was considered normal for otokoyaku like himself to continue to act masculine outside of the theatre, even if Seitaro still put on a show of femininity to avoid suspicion among his peers.
As he sifted through his belongings and brushed his teeth in the bathroom, listening to his roommates gush about their plans in between performances, Seitaro just stared at himself and let his brows pinch in frustration. Really, there was no easy way to just approach her as he was. At least he looked feminine enough still, what with his unsightly breasts and his round face, so no one would find it odd that Tsunematsu Sumire was looking for her childhood friend at one of the private high schools. But there was always the suspicion—the fear—and it was like some part of Seitaro knew someone would see him for what he was and draw attention to him.
A mentally ill freak who thought he was a man trapped in a woman's body. Someone who deserved to be sterilised and thrown into a mental ward until he started to believe he was a "she" again.
A predator, if some people were to be asked.
"Sumire-kun!" one of his roommates called. Seitaro spat into the sink and rinsed out his mouth.
"Yeah?" he called back. The door peeked open, and a mousy face poked through the gap with an excited smile.
"Have you ever tried fugu before?" Nonon asked. "There's a restaurant here that sells it. I heard the head chef was trained in Ishikawa Prefecture before coming here to open his restaurant."
Seitaro fought the urge to scrunch up his face. Was she seriously asking if they wanted to eat pufferfish here? They had a dress rehearsal at the theatre today. What the hell was she thinking?
"Ignore her!" his other roommate called through the door. "I'm not getting put in hospital because some know-it-all thinks he can serve that shit all willy-nilly! We should do something else after rehearsal!"
Seitaro emerged from the bathroom and glanced at the two women. Between them, Yuuna was the senior member of the group and had been travelling the longest with the troupe, this year being her fifth year. Compared to Seitaro and Nonon, who both joined two years ago, she was definitely more well-versed in how things operated when they left Takarazuka for performances.
Yuuna was sitting on her bed, tapping on her phone and scrolling through pages of activities in Tokonosu, and Seitaro watched the little phone charms bounce back and forth as she moved around.
"Tokonosu's got some karaoke bars," she suggested. "Sumire-kun loves to sing, right? And the rest of us can drink while she has some quality coffee."
"But all we do is sing on stage!" Nonon whined. "I want something fancy!"
"What about bowling?" Seitaro suggested. He put on his patented demure smile and softened his voice. Trademarks of Tsunematsu Sumire. How proud his detestable parents would be to see him "coming to her senses".
"After all the running around we'll be doing?" Nonon held her hands up in an X symbol. "Blech. What else?"
Fussy bitch.
"If you want fish so bad, we can just go to a conveyor belt sushi restaurant," Yuuna sighed.
It seemed Nonon had a problem with that, too. "What if someone rude takes our food from the line?"
"Ah, don't worry about that." Seitaro laughed softly at the question. It took everything in him not to grab her by her face and ask her if she was stupid, or if she was just expecting people to be as rude as she was in a public setting. "The cycled sushi is on the conveyor belt, but when you order something specific, it comes to your booth so no one else can grab it."
She was crestfallen as it dawned on her that she was outnumbered. Nonon eventually sat down on her own bed, whining, and she agreed to the conveyor belt sushi.
Like pulling teeth with this girl, Seitaro thought, but at least she'd piped down a bit.
"Well, that's one night of activities figured out," Yuuna sighed. She looked over at Seitaro, knowing smile on her face, and she reclined on her bed like a lazy cat tempting someone with their belly. "Hey, Sumire-kun, what plans do you have? You looked awful excited to be heading to Tokonosu for this show."
Nonon perked up at the mere chance of gossip. Seitaro wanted to punch Yuuna for bringing it up in front of Nonon.
But he kept up his mask as Sumire, laughing nervously and playing the shy act up like he was trying to win an Academy Award.
"It's silly…" he mumbled shyly.
"Is it a hot date?" Yuuna teased. "A secret rendezvous? Don't tell me you plan to elope while you're here. Think of all those poor girls who adore you, Sumire-kun!"
He couldn't give a rat's ass about his fans. They may have fallen for his true self on the stage, who the character of the main antagonist embodied to a T, but if they were stuck in a room with him for any amount of time, they'd turn on him in an instant. They loved the idea of him—the forbidden nature of yearning for a woman in drag who was prettier than any man could hope to be while still having all the sharp angles they enjoyed cutting their fingers on at fan meets.
"But that's not allowed," Nonon whined. "We're not allowed to date, let alone elope with someone…"
"I'm kidding, Nonon-non," Yuuna sighed. Her teasing mood was removed entirely, and she no longer lounged about in a roundabout flirtatious way. She just laid on the bed, waving a hand dismissively, and looked more like someone who'd just gotten off of a six hour bus ride. Y'know, something she actually was. "Anyway, why were you checking your phone so often on the trip? You even asked to borrow Suzuna's charge bank and promised to give it back fully charged."
Seitaro tried not to flinch. Damn it all, he was hoping no one had noticed he'd asked Suzuna for her charge bank. He'd spent half the trip exchanging text messages with the PI about where Fujimi Academy was located and transferring payment from his bank to the PI's account. All those savings, down the drain in one fell swoop, but at least Seitaro had been able to verify everything was true thanks to the evidence provided with the information. It wasn't like he needed Kina's Individual Number or a list of people she hung out with on the regular—he'd just wanted to know where she was, how far away she'd be from the hotel the troupe was staying at, and how Seitaro could navigate Tokonosu to reach her.
He cleared his throat and mumbled a response of, "Well… I know someone who lives here…"
Nonon shot off of her bed in an instant. "Sumire-kun really is eloping!?" she screeched.
"I'm not!" Seitaro insisted.
"Who is it? Who?" Nonon hurried over to him and all but crashed into the wall next to where he was standing. "Why didn't we know about them? What will Risa-chan from your fan club say!? Is it Risa-chan!? No way—Sumire-kun is lesbian!?"
You'd swear she was having a full blown meltdown over this. Seitaro didn't like the hope in Nonon's voice, veiled beneath her freakout, as she interrogated him endlessly.
It wasn't until Yuuna got off of the bed and pulled Nonon away that it all stopped. And even then, two of the girls from the room next door had already knocked and let themselves in to see what the commotion was.
With Hanami and Juri as witnesses, Seitaro was forced to choke out the best approximation of his plans without giving away too much.
"My childhood friend," he said, and he felt tense as he spoke. This was no one's business, but he had to play the part of Tsunematsu Sumire—and Tsunematsu Sumire was honest despite her shy, quiet disposition. "She lives in Tokonosu. It's her last year of high school, so I wanted to try get her a ticket to a show as a gift…"
All four of his nosy troupemates let out intrigued sounds. But at least Yuuna was the first to apologise, even if it was too little, too late. Maybe she should've minded her business when it was still capable of being minded.
"I feel kinda bad for pressuring now, Sumire-kun…" Yuuna mumbled. "Sorry. I promise we won't bother you when she comes to the show. I bet she'll adore watching you on stage."
Damn right, she would. Kina always had unwavering support and adoration for Seitaro. Unlike these dumb sows around him, Kina always made sure to give her support and only ask questions Seitaro was clearly comfortable answering. Almost seven billion people in the world, and somehow only a single one of them was capable of not being a total dumbass about Seitaro living his life and minding his damn business.
If he could keep his coworkers away from Kina, it would be a load off of Seitaro's shoulders during his stay in Tokonosu.
"She always said I had a future as an actor," Seitaro said wistfully. "I wonder if she'll even recognise me when I'm in character."
"Sumire-kun is really good at getting into her role," Hanami chimed in. Seitaro had to hold back a groan. God, she and Juri still hadn't left yet? The show was over—get the fuck out of the room! "It's like I'm looking at a murderous man who won't stop for anyone in real life."
Seitaro would take it as a compliment, if the character of the brother and antagonist wasn't just Seitaro's inner self made manifest. He'd helped the playwright to come up with the character, doing demonstrations of his true self to the woman, and she'd fallen in love with the idea of a misanthropic older brother who was just as yearnful for freedom as his younger sister. Seitaro was able to let the mask slip, and no one pulled him up for his harshness and attitude because they thought he was just getting into the role.
The audience and actors loved Seitaro as a concept. He wondered, though not really, whether they'd say the same if they found out it was his true self.
There was no point in wondering, though. He didn't care if they liked him. In fact, he found the groupies who called him their "problematic fave" to be just as much of an annoyance as the haters. What the fans and his coworkers wanted wasn't a multidimensional and complex man; they wanted a tomboyish woman who had all the charm of a man, but none of the danger.
Why would such a sweet girl like Tsunematsu Sumire want to go under the knife to become some dangerous man?
As if he was never dangerous without the surgery.
But he digressed. Once he found Kina and they figured out what she was going to do, Seitaro was going to figure out his life plan with her. He made good money with Takarazuka Revue, especially as one of their newcomers making a boom in the theatre industry, but what good were all the connections and reviews if he was miserable like always? Any luck, he'd save up enough money to help Kina find a place, and they might just get away with being roommates for a while. Just long enough for Seitaro to find someone to not only help him transition covertly, but also link in with contacts who could forge documents claiming he was always a man.
Kina didn't deserve to babysit someone deemed too mentally ill to be allowed out in public. And she didn't need the stigma of caring for Seitaro at such a young age. He wasn't a damn trophy husband.
No one was enough of a winner to get him as a trophy.
"Oh, that does remind me," Nonon chirped. She looked at Seitaro with a big, giddy smile, so dopey that he swore her IQ dropped instantaneously from looking at him. "Don't one of your parents have contacts in the acting industry, Sumire-kun? You should totally see if you can graduate into silver screen jobs! I hear they're being more diverse with the big blockbuster films, and dark-skinned tomboys are the rage in action films now."
Her IQ really must've dropped. He was joking more to himself, but she really must've become more stupid the more she opened her mouth. Was there even a brain at all in that ugly little head of hers? Surely not. Nonon was proving to Seitaro right now, in this moment, that all she was good for was memorising lines on a script and rehearsing movements on a stage.
It was a struggle to keep up his demure facade. The mask that was Sumire threatened to slip, flashes coming to mind as he thought about the hellhole he'd pushed from his mind for two years. All that work staying away from any thoughts of his limp-dicked father and his wet noodle of a mother, never even confirming a relation with them when he first arrived at the troupe's doors, and somehow Nonon had figured it out? And was mooching? Because why the fuck else would she ask, if not to boost her own career?
And the fuck did she mean, dark-skinned tomboys were all the rage? For what? Being a prize for a macho man to win at the end of a movie? To terrorise and dominate on set? To dubiously romance as a display of manliness and charisma?
Seitaro flexed his hands and rolled his neck and shoulders. He could feel his expression pinching in an attempt to keep up his smile.
It wasn't like there were a ton of people in the film industry who were of Ethiopian descent like Seitaro to begin with. It made sense, when he didn't change his surname, that Nonon had made that connection. He just fucking hated that she was both stupid and smart enough to make that connection herself.
"Ah, my father…" he said, and his voice was strained. Yuuna seemed to pick up on the change in Seitaro's energy, sitting up straighter as she shot Nonon a look. "He is in the film industry, isn't he…"
"Maybe the rest of us could help you get in a big name film!" Nonon insisted. "Do you still talk to—"
"Nonon," Hanami said, voice tense and cold.
Nonon gave her an disgruntled look, like she was upset Hanami dared to interrupt her conversation with Seitaro. "What? Sumire-kun is such a talented actress, and I think she should be winning awards for it! Are you worried she'll be labelled a nepo-baby? She already has such a dedicated following online through the troupe!"
And then the real motive came out. Nonon smiled dopily at Seitaro again, and she was more talking to herself and justifying her actions as she added, "Plus we might get to do some fun stuff with Sumire-kun if she becomes big and famous, like go overseas or attend award shows with her."
"I don't think that's wise," Seitaro said, and his voice was clipped. And yet somehow, some way, Nonon still didn't pick up on the topic being taboo. Everyone else in the room was uncomfortable except for her. So Seitaro went on, "The last time my father introduced me to someone in the industry, tomboys weren't popular. And I had to be made into a proper lady."
Yuuna's hand went up to her mouth in an instant. Hanami and Juri both gasped in sync.
Nonon still couldn't take a fucking hint.
"But you're already the perfect proper lady," she whined. "Who cares if you're not some Yamato Nadeshiko type? It's the twenty-first century, modern women can be proper in other ways."
But Seitaro didn't want to be a proper woman. A proper woman desired a man in carnal ways, styled herself in pretty clothing and dolled herself up to look like a goddess, and they'd even risk their lives to use their God-given function to pop out little crotch goblins.
Seitaro was no proper woman. Seitaro despised everything about himself that was womanly.
And this idiot was too dense to take a fucking hint.
Seitaro stood up and let out a calming breath. "I need to take five," he told the group cheerfully. "What time is the dress rehearsal again?"
"N—Not until one," Yuuna told him. Seitaro nodded in thanks and collected his phone and backpack from his bedside table.
"I'll come with you!" Nonon insisted.
Juri all but blocked Nonon from going to her own purse, gripping her arm so tight that Seitaro wouldn't complain if it bruised.
"Sumire-kun might need some time alone," she advised her.
Nonon sneered at her. She looked at Seitaro and pleaded, "You want me to come, don't you, Sumire-kun?"
"Nonon," Hanami hissed through her teeth.
Seitaro looked over his shoulder as he approached the door. He threw Nonon a simple, diplomatic smile as he opened the door and walked out, not even deigning her plea with a response.
Finally, some peace and Goddamn quiet, he thought as he left the bounds of the motel to explore.
NNN-NNNN
Tokonosu
M Ward
I District
X-X-X
To the Jurai Family,
This letter is in regards to an application made by a member of the household, Jurai Reon, to Ono Hibiki School of Music's 2009 enrolment process. It is with great pleasure that I inform you of Reon's acceptance into the school's very selective pool of applicants. This decision was made thanks to Reon's exceptional personal and academic achievements while attending Tokonosu Kita Private Junior High School.
Enclosed with this letter is a starter package so you can familiarise yourself with the campus and opportunities we offer. Feel free to reach out to our administration office at any time for any inquiries so as to make Reon's enrollment and adjustment as seamless as possible.
We look forward to Reon attending our school in the upcoming academic year.
Sincerely,
Ono Rara
Headmistress of Ono Hibiki School of Music
"Thank goodness for the newspaper club making the daily newsletter so versatile," Umi said.
Amen to that. Reon sipped at his little Yakult bottle, browsing the news that the club had painstakingly taken the time to write out and print overnight for morning dorm deliveries, and he skimmed some of the news about certain classmates going overseas for performances. It was all anyone would talk about, so there was no point in reading about where each of them had been sent and what they were playing.
He did, however, agree with Umi that the newsletter was so versatile in its contents. He flipped over to the next page, where a piece about the school's alumni participated in big events—a graduate from twenty years ago was playing at the wedding of a politician's daughter, another graduate from ten years ago had just played with the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra in Sydney Opera House and left a stunning harp solo in her wake, and yet another graduate from five years ago had just concluded the opening weekend of her opera performance of Phantom of the Opera in Tokyo. It was all very interesting information that Reon enjoyed reading, if only because it helped lay foundations for what he could expect once he graduated from Ono Hibiki School of Music himself.
Mostly, though, he just liked the sudoku puzzles on the back of the newsletter. That, and the anonymous letters left for the newspaper club to publish for the student body to read. It was a good way to see if there was anything Reon needed to be wary of, at least outside of his immediate vicinity—like an anonymous call to action to help with after school duties in one classroom, or requests for tutoring and social sessions in between classes.
His favourite use for the newsletter's anonymous messaging section? The faceless, nameless classmate who'd begun to play a long-distance, long-standing game of chess with Reon through the columns. And both he and his opponent had been certain to inform the newspaper club of how to tell if it was their responses they were given, rather than some hijacker who wanted to throw them off.
"Impressive," Reon muttered. Umi munched on her breakfast—a collection of small fried quail eggs on top of thinly sliced toast and with a side of fried sausages—as she hummed in agreement. Her own newsletter was next to her plate, left open at the article about the alumni who'd done something this week.
Naturally no one had any idea that it was Reon and another student doing this match. It wasn't something Reon advertised, and as far as he knew, his opponent wasn't bragging about it either. They even went as far as to make fun of the people claiming to be them, which Reon sometimes gave a ghost of a smile to whenever he'd read it. The list of suspects was narrowing in his mind, and with every disproven classmate who'd brag about being one of the mysterious chess players, the prospects of it being one of the more respectable student bodies grew higher.
And today's move was just as brilliant as the others. So far Reon had lost both of his knights and three of his pawns, and he'd managed to take one of his opponent's rooks and all but one of his pawns in turn. His opponent was going on the offensive, trying to end this in a smothered mate that Reon refused to fall into the trap of.
Qd6, the message at the end of the small letter read. Reon went over the moves in his head, and his brow pinched in frustration. So they were going for a queen sacrifice with this move? Whichever piece Reon moved now to take it would open his king up to one of the bishops closing in on the remaining guards…
"They're still going at that game of chess," Umi mused. Reon looked up from his newsletter and offered a friendly smile.
"Yes," he said, voice gentle. "It's amazing that they can respond to each other every other day."
"Especially with all the assignments we had to do over the holidays." Umi dipped the end of one thin slice of toast into the soft yolk of the quail eggs. "How do they even remember where each piece is?"
Reon hummed once. "Maybe they keep a record of the moves on their phones," he suggested, though he was more trickle-truthing than anything with his response. "Or perhaps they're so dedicated that they keep a chess board set up in their dorms."
"I'm a little invested in who the winner will be," Umi admitted.
Reon glanced at her, and he wondered who she had her sights on. Reon played white, mostly because he was the one to start this letter chain through the newsletter—he'd posted a simple anonymous message declaring he would like to play with an opponent without either of them having any biases towards the other, or with underhanded tricks like cheating, and he'd moved his first pawn from the white side of the board at the end of his letter. It was obvious the newspaper club had posted the most interesting replies, but Reon had selected the one that was most forthcoming with how they'd ensure no one else could influence their moves.
"But I also don't know or care enough about chess to be that invested," Umi went on.
Reon's interest in her words went out the window immediately. He flicked his newsletter, straightening the pages again, and flipped to the next page.
Even today's sudoku puzzle wasn't as challenging as usual, he thought with a little disdain.
"Oh," Umi chirped. She bit into one of her sausages as Reon took a sip of his rice porridge. "That reminds me. Are you prepared for your start-of-year assessment?"
"Oh, that?" Reon shrugged one of his shoulders. "I feel confident. It was just me at home for the break, and it gave me plenty of time to practise."
"Not a single person home?" Umi huffed out her cheeks. "Lucky… My stupid brother and sister kept bugging me the whole break. All three of us had to work on our pieces, and they just wouldn't stop demanding I go out and play at their friends' parties! It's not easy to lug around a cello!"
No, it most certainly was not. But, he thought with a bit of sympathy, it wasn't a harp at least. Or a large drum. Or a piano.
Umi huffed a sigh and sank into her chair. Reon pulled a pen from his pocket and uncapped it, blitzing through the sudoku challenge with little effort. Really, he swore this exact one was published at the end of the year last year.
"Hey, Jurai," Umi said, and she sounded nervous. Reon hummed once in response, prompting her to continue. "Was your piece very hard to learn? I'm having second thoughts about the one I chose."
Reon's assignment? Honestly speaking, it wasn't severely difficult. He was definitely better than he used to be at his musical abilities, so there was a lot less fumbling than when he'd first started out, but overall? No, not terribly difficult at all.
"I wouldn't call it difficult," he replied smoothly. "I just spent a lot more time on it than I would've had with anyone at home."
"So I'm just unlucky…" Umi scarfed down the rest of her food and slapped her hands on the table. Reon jumped slightly, if only from the loud rattle of the utensils bouncing on her plate, and he looked up at her with wide eyes as she stood up quickly. "Damn it. All that money wasted on tutors, and now my parents are gonna give me shit for getting a subpar grade…"
Really, was it worth being so upset over? There were hundreds of other students who paid their way into the school and had no musical talent at all. Umi was already above fifty percent of their grade.
Then again… Reon had seen the way Umi's twin siblings had gotten frustrated whenever someone scored too closely to them in exams. Umi's sister, Sonoko, played the violin like Reon did, and she'd damn near had a conniption when she'd only scored three points behind Reon in their end-of-year showcase to the headmasters of the school. They were by no means the best, but from what Umi had told Reon, Sonoko hated more than anything that the difference in their scores had come down to technical aspects that Reon outperformed her in.
Really, was it so difficult to keep good posture while playing violin? It wasn't like it was hard for Reon to stand up straight for a full fifteen minute piece.
Reon picked up his napkin and wiped at his lips as Umi stormed off. It was always such a terrible appetite killer, whenever Umi got into her moods. He wondered why she even sat with him all the time anyway. It wasn't like she was trying to get him to do a duet with her, especially when their styles were too different to make a combination of cello and violin work in tandem. If it was just to keep her siblings away from her, she was doing a poor job of it by storming off on her own while Reon still ate.
He finished his Yakult and tried to fit a few more bites in. But Umi had done too much damage to his appetite with her fit, and Reon just sighed as he furrowed his brows. What did she even expect him to do about her problems? He would've said yes if she'd offered to do a duet, it just would've required more time to work together. It wasn't like she'd had her chance to practise stolen from her by Reon. That honour went to her siblings.
Reon turned his attention back to his newsletter, though, and he rolled up his blazer and shirt sleeve to write the move on his forearm. He could handle the chess move later, after class, and he was sure his opponent didn't mind waiting another day for a response. They'd gone this long before sending each other moves again—separated only by the break between year levels—and Reon was fairly confident that they'd bring the match to a satisfying end.
The whole day of classes was dedicated to the returning students performing their pieces. Some of them participated in a group setting, doing duets or trios and even one quartet, but the majority played their instruments solo. Reon listened with his eyes closed as each player went through their pieces, and he could hear some of the miniscule mistakes that most wouldn't pick up. Frankly speaking, if you weren't a musician or trained in any sense of the word, you'd never notice the mistakes made in these performances. It was this kind of seamlessness that made professional orchestra players a cut above the rest, and what separated classical music from modern music.
If only they had a proper pit to play their pieces in, though. The groups would benefit so much from the acoustics in one.
Eventually it came time for Umi's sister's turn, and Reon watched as Sonoko set herself up in front of the class and tuned her violin. The teacher wrote notes—likely to deduct points for not already having the violin tuned before her turn—and Sonoko's brow quirked as she glanced at Reon. He'd already tuned his own violin, and it was already a bad sign of her lack of practice when she proceeded to set up the music stand and pull sheets of paper from her violin case.
Even if she was doing an eight-minute piece, she should've practised enough over the end-of-year break to have memorised the tempo and notes.
She cleared her throat and announced the piece she'd be playing—Bacewicz's Kaprys Polski for solo violin. Reon sat up a little straighter as he watched her, and he saw Sonoko's nostril twitch as she noticed him paying special attention.
The mistakes were apparent right out the gate. No sooner had she played the first note, it was painfully obvious that she hadn't tuned her violin properly. Several students in the class cringed, though Reon was able to keep his expression trained and neutral, and he closed his eyes as he listened to each minute mistake and fluctuating tempo throughout the two-minute piece. It was such a short performance, and when Reon opened his eyes at the final note, he saw the homeroom teacher shaking his head as he made extensive notes.
"Thank you, Jabami…" he said hesitantly. "You've reminded us that there's no shame in choosing a shorter piece for your presentation. However, I would like to speak with you during lunch. Bring your brother and sister with you."
All three triplets called to the teacher's lounge. That wasn't a good sign.
Sonoko was fighting back tears as she nodded. She stomped back to her seat, glaring daggers at Reon as she passed his own desk, and the teacher called upon him next.
He was methodical and practised as he set himself up and angled his violin on his shoulder. He announced his piece with nonchalance, like he wasn't expecting a lot of praise or interest in what he was going—but Paganini's Nel cor più non mi sento in G was apparently something difficult to learn in a short amount of time.
Reon only counted two mistakes he made throughout the whole piece, a mere slip of the hand that most wouldn't notice unless they were familiar with the piece. It wasn't perfection, and as much as he would appreciate perfection, he knew he still had more room to grow with his piece in order to master it.
"Incredible, Jurai!" the teacher praised him. Reon patiently packed away his violin as he modestly soaked up the praise. "It's notoriously difficult to learn pieces by the Devil's Violinist in such a short amount of time, much less that particular piece! You must've spent your entire break practising without pause."
"I just had a lot of time on my hands," Reon said quietly.
"And still so humble about it!" The teacher looked back to the class, and it was clear his words were directed to the ones who'd paid their ways into the school and the end-of-year slackers. "Take notes, everyone. Jurai's dedication is what's expected of every single Ono Hibiki student. We are not a school for hobbyists, we are a school for musicians."
A couple of students groaned, while others nodded along eagerly and seemed to take the challenge issued to them by their teacher. Reon wasn't fussed either way. He just wanted to continue practising his violin and improving his talent, no drama or competitiveness required to spur him on.
One student, though, took it very personally. Of course it was Sonoko.
She was livid as she shook in her seat, fingers having torn through her sheet music from gripping it so tightly. It was one of the few times where Reon noticed how similar she and Umi looked, despite being fraternal triplets. Just change Sonoko's eyes from black to blue, and they'd be a dead ringer for each other whenever they threw tantrums.
It was none of Reon's business, though. He simply sat back down on his seat and pulled his pen from his pocket, and everyone immediately assumed he was working on a personal piece as he wrote notes in his exercise book. He took a peek at the move written on his arm, and he turned to the page where he'd been logging the chess moves in his spare time—and Reon began to brainstorm his next move to escape the smothered mate he was being pushed towards.
TOKONOSU HIGASHI HIGH SCHOOL TO PARTICIPATE IN REGIONAL FINALS, TOKONOSU
PICTURED—Tokonosu Higashi High School's outfielder, Nakahara Miharu (16), outs Tsurugi High School's batter, Himezawa Teruko (16), in an impossible out-of-bounds catch.
All eyes were on Tokonosu during this month's qualifier matches for the senior girls' league in softball. Many have been watching with keen eyes for which teams will make it to Tokyo for the big match against the regional juggernaut, Seisen International School, and following an intense match between Tokonosu Higashi High School and Tsurugi High School, expectations are high for a thrilling battle for the championship title of 2009.
Tokonosu Higashi High School previously played in the regional finals in 2001, 1972, and 1970, and many passionate players and spectators believed the school had a curse on their softball team following their 1969 victory against Tokyo Metropolitan Ōmori High School, which brought forth a string of losses that saw them failing to make it to the quarter final rounds of the regional softball league, and to this day only has one victory to their name. Will 2009 prove to be the year of Tokonosu Higashi High School? Or will yet another scathing loss solidify their position as the one-trick-pony team of the regional softball league?
With players like one Nakahara Miharu, a second-year student with a promising career in the sport, some hold out hope that Tokonosu Higashi High School might be able to pull off the impossible and bring home the school's long-awaited second championship trophy.
The coach signalled for everyone to quiet down as the bus came to a slow outside the school. A quiet Tuesday morning, everyone having arrived early for the trip, and it was something the team had been looking forward to for… Well, since the finals last year. And for someone like Miharu, who was dying to get out of the house and do something mildly therapeutic after spending the end-of-year break at home, gladly left the house at dawn this morning to bike to school early and help the coach load their supplies onto the minibus.
This was something Miharu had been waiting for ever since she'd gotten the permission slip to bring home. It wasn't every day that their school got to visit other schools for things, and the girls' softball team had made a killing in the leagues last year. This was something that had come up suddenly, at the end of the league's season, and the coach had been elated that Tsurugi High School had reached out to the team to ask for a sports meet to start out the next school year. It'd be a great way to get new team recruits to get used to the sport, and for the two teams to socialise a bit more and practise for the big games.
Anything to get Miharu out of her house, she thought. It'd been a nightmare to get the permission slip signed, through no fault of her own, and Miharu knew going about it a legitimate way would've been a nightmare to begin with. So, of course, while her dad had been busy familiarising himself with his old friend "Ume Shu", Miharu had logged into his laptop and printed out the form herself, and then stole his signature stamp to sign it. Maybe she'd flubbed where she'd picked it up from when she'd returned it—the text messages her father started sending since she left the house in a hurry after seeing him reach for the aspirin weren't slowing down—but who cared about that? It wasn't like he ever paid enough attention to notice an email marked read that wasn't there yesterday, or that the printer ink was at a lower level than it was the day before. The man couldn't even keep track of how many fingers were on his hands at any given time, and the only thing he was on top of was Miharu's tardies and his own shifts at work.
She kept her eyes on the coach as he informed everyone that today was not just a chance to goof off and do whatever they wanted—Tsurugi High School covered the same curriculum as Tokonosu Higashi High School, and they weren't actually getting on the field until after lunch, when the softball team for Tsurugi High were permitted to take a free period to participate in the sports meet. Everyone had been sure to bring their existing homework and assignments with them for the first half of the day, and they weren't to leave the library for anything other than study breaks for fresh air or bathroom breaks. After lunch, though? Free game to mingle and have fun playing a mock match with the Tsurugi girls' team.
Miharu's phone buzzed in her hands. A phone call. She pursed her lips as she flipped it open and accepted the call, and her father didn't even bother to greet her when she answered. A small part of her argued that, in his defence, Miharu didn't greet him either.
"Did you sign something under my name?" he demanded.
Miharu was silent as she stared ahead. The bus stopped at a set of lights, and she sucked in a slow breath.
"Nakahara Miharu, answer my question," Akito ordered her. Miharu just clenched her jaw tightly and kept her silence. Akito sighed and she could hear rustling on the other end. Signs he was moving around things and going through his desk. She almost wanted to snidely comment that his aspirin must've kicked in quickly today, and that his friend "Ume Shu" had gone easy on him last night. But, she thought as her old PE teacher's words rang through her mind, it was better to save that frustration for the field than for her words. So she kept silent. "Damn it. What did you use it to sign? Are you even at school right now? I can't— Is that laughter? You should be in homeroom. How did you answer the phone?"
Miharu rested her forehead against the window. She closed her eyes, brows pinching together, and she held back a slew of retorts she wanted to hurl at him. Why did you bother calling me if I'm supposed to be in homeroom? Do you ever check your emails for anything other than paychecks going through? Maybe I'm surrounded by laughter because I'm somewhere I enjoy being, unlike you. Did you think that just because you don't have any friends, I don't either? Do you even know I play softball, or did you assume you hallucinated my big games last year?
He was muttering to himself. He clearly noticed paper still in the printer on his desk, and Miharu almost clicked her tongue. She knew she'd forgotten something after trying to figure out where she'd grabbed his signature stamp from.
"Paper… What did you print out? Gotta— Damn it—" He fumbled to open his laptop, and she heard him tapping on the keys. "Miharu, can't you answer a single question I've asked? Shit— Probably answered the phone and set it down…"
He hung up on her. Miharu pulled the phone away from her ear, and she opened her eyes to see he was calling her again.
She declined the call. She began composing a text message to him. He called her twice, and she hung up on him both times in order to finish her messages; he didn't call a third time and waited for her message to come through.
Sent: 2010/04/13 9:18AM
To: Dad
It's a field trip for my softball team. I'm doing homework at the place we're going to. Don't wait up.
"Hey, hey, Haru-chan," her seatmate whispered. Miharu glanced at her as she turned off her phone, smiling casually as she did so. "Who are you texting so early in the morning?"
"Ah…" Miharu let out a bashful laugh. It was an act she was used to, one so convincing that no one had seen through it in three years. "I didn't think my dad would be up by now, since he worked the closing shift last night, but he just left me a voicemail cheering me on. So I texted him a thanks."
Her seatmate, Miki, looked positively bedazzled as she stared at Miharu. "Aw, how sweet," she cooed. "I wish my dad was that excited about my interests. I had to beg to be let on this trip all throughout the break."
Miharu almost felt bad for her. If only she knew she'd just been lied to, she thought—but then Miharu would be in a tough position, and nothing was more mortifying than people knowing how dysfunctional her family life was.
So she just chuckled and gave Miki a nudge, and Miki giggled in return and nudged her back.
"I'm a little excited. Do you think Himezawa-san is still on the Tsurugi team?" Miki asked her. "You two were like proper rivals last year!"
Miharu let out a small laugh and shrugged one shoulder. "I hope so," she admitted. "She was the ace, hands down. But that other girl… Okutani, was it? She was quick on the uptake whenever it was her turn to bat."
"Ah, Okutani-san…" Miki nodded along, humming as she seemed to reminisce about the last game they'd played against Tsurugi High School. "I remember her. The gyaru, right? She really stuck out like a sore thumb."
She surprisingly did. Compared to the rest of her team, Okutani Ayaka had been the only gyaru among their numbers, save for the club's assistant manager. Miharu glanced out the window as she contemplated it, and she watched as the people on the street went about their days as normal. She wondered how many were struggling at home like she was. She wondered even more how many of them would understand her if she said it was mortifying to even live such a life.
So Miharu just looked back at Miki, casual and easygoing as she waved a hand dismissively. "Not as much as the manba gyaru at our school," she joked. "I still skip over the pages she was on in last year's yearbook. Thank God she graduated last year."
Miki giggled. "I can never fathom it," she admitted. "All the spray tan must feel so heavy and sticky all the time. Same with the accessories and hair extensions."
"Beauty is pain," Miharu drawled. "More pain than beauty for some, though."
She saw the large castle that stood between the two schools in the distance—a sign that the bus had officially left the east of Tokonosu, travelling closer to the centre, and she wondered if they'd see the fancy Takagi mansion at this rate. It was odd, living in the same city as a prominent politician, but some days Miharu wondered what the Takagi family were like. She'd met kids from Fujimi Academy before, where all the rich kids and elite attended, and they left little to the imagination for how they were raised.
Money could buy a lot of things, but better parents wasn't one of them. Even if they got everything they wanted at the drop of a hat, rich parents who threw money at the problem were just as bad as… Well, everything Miharu had grown up with. Negligence came in many forms, not just alcoholism, and the most unpleasant people she had the displeasure of meeting came from such simplistically-minded households.
No wonder she felt it was so mortifying, the idea of someone finding out she lived the way she did. Most people would shrug and look the other way for a kid with a ton of money, but for someone middle-class? That turned into victim blaming and an attitude problem, and Miharu knew all about the lectures on attitude problems. She just got lucky that the person who gave her that lecture didn't try to make excuses for her living situation or downplay her resentment.
And now look at her. MVP of her school's softball team. Her junior high PE teacher couldn't have given her a better outlet for her rage.
The trip to Tsurugi High School didn't take long, and the bus passed a few apartment complexes and large properties along the road. Places Miharu was unfamiliar with, if only because a lot of her favourite places to visit were in the east of Tokonosu. Anywhere she couldn't reach in ten minutes on her bike wasn't worth travelling to, but she supposed this was worth her while. She was eager enough to bike all this way herself if the bus hadn't had room, or if she'd missed it. Anything to get her out of the house, or even out of her classroom, for a couple of hours to relax.
Miki nudged her again as the campus of Tsurugi High School came into view. Miharu looked back at her, humming, and Miki was bashful as she twiddled her fingers together.
"Say, Haru-chan…" Miki mumbled. She was embarrassed to even be asking her what was on her mind, it seemed. "Did you bring anything to eat for lunch while we're at Tsurugi High?"
Miharu blinked slowly. She made a show of thinking about it, and then hissed, "Oh, crap. I knew I forgot something."
Miki seemed to be happy that Miharu had "forgotten" to pack a lunch. It was easy to tell what Miki was getting at—out of everyone on the team, her mother was the one who packed the biggest lunches so Miki could keep playing while burning off the calories. Granted, Miki was more of a benchwarmer who doubled as a catcher, but it was the thought that counted, and she never smack-talked her mother for overdoing her support. If anything, she encouraged her mother to make extra nowadays so she could share it.
"M—My mom made way too much for me to share again!" Miki chirped. "I can split it with you, if you want? You always buy big lunches at the school cafeteria, so I figured you might get a bit extra hungry with all the running around…"
Miharu feigned interest, though it was more to humour Miki than anything. She was more than happy to mooch off of her friend for a spell, if Miki was okay with it.
"What'd she pack today?" she asked.
"Three different flavours of onigiri, a couple of miniature yakisoba-pan, stir-fried lotus roots, chicken meatballs," Miki listed. "Ah! And a couple of pieces of egg sando! And little bits of okra tempura to snack on."
Some of those sounded nice. "Do you mind splitting it evenly?" she asked.
"Of course not! I'll even give you the okra to nibble at!"
Ah, how thoughtful her friend was. Miharu reached up and patted Miki's head, and Miki leaned into it like a puppy enjoying the praise. Miharu may not have been entirely earnest with her about things, but she could always rely on Miki to have her back.
(It didn't hurt that she saved some money today, too.)
"Alright, girls!" the coach called out. Everyone went quiet throughout the rows, and Miki and Miharu both sat up straight. The gates to Tsurugi High School opened at the front of the bus, and it slowly pulled into the front parking bay. "Best behaviour today! You represent Tokonosu Higashi High School! Remember that this is a friendly get-together, nothing seriously competitive, and that it's okay to make some friends here!"
Okay, sure. Preferable? Maybe not.
But Miharu wasn't a quitter. She'd done well to find a friend like Miki who had yet to disappoint her like others in the past, and Tsurugi High School was just a broadened horizon on that front.
Besides, Miki had been right about there being a few standouts in last year's season. Miharu wouldn't deny having a sense of rivalry with the girls of the Tsurugi High team, and for all the jokes she'd made about the girl's appearance, that gyaru really did catch her attention. Okutani Ayaka… She played the outfield like Miharu did, but she really stood out as a batter. Miharu had caught one of the balls Ayaka had hit, and it was almost as painful to keep her grip on it compared to the fastballers on her team.
It wouldn't be a… total disappointment if she got to go up against Ayaka again. Miharu did want to expand her horizons a little with the roles she played in the team, so maybe some batting tips from Ayaka would go a long way. There was no harm in trying. And Miharu wasn't a quitter, not when she set her mind to something.
She was gonna ace the whole friendly rivalry thing like a pro today, mark her words.
So, she reminded herself, best behaviour. No one should have a reason to dislike or have beef with Miharu unless she gave them one, and today was the last day she'd want to give anyone a reason to pick a fight.
She just hoped, albeit with a heavy dose of doubt, that the students at Tsurugi High School gave the team the same courtesy.
IZAKAYA HOKUSAI
4.5 (152 reviews)
Food: ⬤⬤⬤⬤◐
Service: ⬤⬤⬤⬤◐
Value: ⬤⬤⬤⬤◐
Atmosphere: ⬤⬤⬤⬤⬤
Sort by: Most recent
Mike T.
⬤⬤⬤⬤◐ (Nov. 2009)
A very good meal with friendly and efficient service: the ambiance of this basement bar/restaurant is well worth a detour.
We enjoyed a very well cooked meal, with friendly, attentive service. We nearly missed finding the entrance but that may have been due to jet lag! It seems well liked by locals as well as those tourists savvy or lucky enough to find it. We will have to rearrange our itinerary to enjoy a return visit.
Sophia W.
⬤⬤⬤⬤⬤ (Nov. 2009)
Worth the effort to locate
All the reviews which said that Izakaya Hokusai is difficult to find but worth it, was all I needed to hear! I was up for the challenge and managed to find the doorway down. Everyone working, and some not, were vet friendly and welcoming. This is traditional Japanese food served in a traditional style. The menu even goes into detail about how guests are charged. Very interesting! Finding this place really made an excellent day even better. Highly recommended.
Henry B.
⬤⬤⬤⬤⬤ (Jul. 2009)
Cool basement Izakaya
Found this place while searching the local area for a late night dinner spot, and it didn't disappoint! Firstly the staff were really friendly and helpful, with our very limited Japanese they made life very easy for us. Secondly the food was excellent! Loads of small plates to choose from and some large noodle dishes too. Fast and delicious and we had 6 beers and more than enough to eat for under £50. A total bargain. Worth mentioning the special sashimi of the day was horse! Had never tried it before but it was weirdly tasty. Maybe not for everyone but definitely an experience. We'll be back!
[Images attached]
"Hino-sensei is such a bitch for making me wash this off."
Ayaka looked away from the mirror she was fixing her hair in. It was just them in the bathroom right now, her and Chiyo, as well as some of their other mutual friends, and the lunch bell hadn't quite rung yet. They'd all finished their lunches early, and Ayaka had followed Chiyo's text telling her where to meet them once she was done eating.
She'd deliberately taken longer than she should've to finish eating. She knew, if she'd come when Chiyo had told her, she would've heard Chiyo complain about how much better than her Ayaka thought she was. It was somehow easier to listen to Chiyo disparage their teachers, in comparison to Ayaka herself, and today of all days was one where Ayaka couldn't handle the resentment on top of the pressure of today's joint training.
It wasn't unusual to find the four of them in the bathroom to fix their makeup. Normally Ayaka didn't need to keep up with fixing her makeup, but she found that the more she spent time with Chiyo, the less bold the other girl was to talk smack in front of her, and it saved her a lot of headaches. There were still plenty of headaches to be had, but Ayaka couldn't help thinking, sometimes, "Better them than me," whenever Chiyo was in her moods.
"I know, right?" Izayoi groaned. "Does she think lipgloss grows on trees or something?"
"She's just upset because she was too much of a square in high school to learn how to put makeup on herself," Chiyo said. She was leaning closer to the mirror, stick of lip gloss in hand, and Ayaka glanced down at the near-full bottle in her other hand. It was a new one, if she recalled correctly. A Chanel lip gloss that released just this past week, part of the summer collection. She still couldn't remember which was which of the two lip glosses released, but she did at least remember the names. Chiyo was either reapplying the Bondi Beach gloss, or she was switching it up and applying the Bikini Peach gloss to replace her washed off gloss. "I bet she's still a virgin who thinks she's better than everyone for never getting a date in twenty years."
The other two girls snickered as Ayaka went back to fixing her hair. She debated tying it back into a ponytail for the training session coming up after lunch, but it was hard to tell if a ponytail would be enough. Maybe a bun? But then Chiyo would say something about Ayaka copying her, even if Ayaka only did one bun as opposed to Chiyo's space buns.
"She tried to give Okutani a hard time for wearing her lip ring," Suzuran chimed in. Ayaka laughed softly at being dragged into the conversation.
"It's a pain to take it out and put it back in so often," she noted. She reached for her lip and prodded at the ring on her lower lip. "I guess it cleans out the hole regularly, though."
"I wish she'd just get laid and chill the fuck out already," Chiyo piped up. She smacked her lips together, now freshly oranged and glossy, and she moved on to the next portion of her makeup: The eyeliner. "She totally wants to make everyone look as frumpy as her. She's just like my mom, like that."
Chiyo was halfway through one wing of eyeliner before she pulled away from the mirror and groaned. "Like today!" she went on. "My mom was so uptight before I left for school this morning. 'I wish you'd stop stealing my makeup. What are you doing wearing my lingerie? Were you actually going to shoplift that scrunchie?' God, she's so annoying. It's like she thinks she's better than me. Like, sorry I don't have any respect for a trophy wife who can't even cook an egg right. Maybe learn the difference between well done and runny."
Izayoi and Suzuran snickered and agreed with her.
"The lunches she packs for you are so boring, too," Suzuran chimed in. "Who even eats a plain sandwich these days? It's all about the presentation and flavour combos nowadays."
"Right?" Chiyo leaned forward again to fix more of her eyeliner. Ayaka was starting to feel wildly uncomfortable. She always hated when Chiyo made fun of her own mother, but what right did she have to stop her? And the other two seemed to have the same problems with Chiyo's mother, so maybe Ayaka just wasn't seeing the writing on the wall about her.
Izayoi did gesture to Ayaka, though, and she blew on her freshly filed nails. "Okutani's mom makes a good meal, at least," she mused. "I wish she wasn't such a stickler for rules and let us eat at the izakaya. It's not like we'd touch the alcohol or anything. But we're also her daughter's friends, so we should at least get some privileges."
Damn it. Ayaka sucked in a short breath and tucked some hair behind her ear. Chiyo's gaze moved towards her, slow and annoyed, and it was like Ayaka herself had insulted her. Had made Chiyo out to be less than her.
"Too bad Aya's mom is too much of a square to let us have fun," she said pointedly. Ayaka pursed her lips and held back a rebuttal. Her mother was responsible, not a square, and she was the coolest person Ayaka knew. "I bet she even hates that Aya dresses like we do. She's such a judgy bitch for that."
To hell with holding back a rebuttal. Ayaka turned to look at Chiyo and started, "My mom doesn't—"
"Yeah she does," Chiyo cut her off. She looked back into the mirror and resumed drawing her eyeliner wings. "All parents do. Dads think their sons are too pathetic to be the man of the house, and moms think their daughters are just little skanks trying to take their place. I bet if your dad was still around, your mom would accuse you of trying to ruin her marriage. Lucky you, having a deadbeat for a dad."
Ayaka clenched her hands at her sides into tight fists. She wasn't sure where to start with the slander—did she correct Chiyo's assumption that her mother wasn't her best friend, or did she jump down her throat for saying her mother cared more about some man who'd walked out on them over her own daughter and father? And how did having a deadbeat for a dad make her lucky? She envied her classmates who had a nuclear family. She may not want anything to do with her father anymore, but as a child she yearned for a proper father-daughter relationship with him. What part of growing up fatherless made her lucky?
Ayaka was thankful to her grandfather for filling that void for her, but he shouldn't have had to. And for Chiyo to take a dump all over that?
This was almost as bad as hearing her say all of those awful things about Ayaka herself. No, maybe this was worse. At least Ayaka could grin and bear the insults, but for her mother to be insulted like this? This was too much.
Ayaka opened her mouth to argue back, but she never got the chance to. The stall behind her slammed open, the toilet flushing as it did so, and everyone looked back to see one of the girls from Tokonosu Higashi High exiting the stall. Her hair was light pink and long, styled into a ponytail while her bangs rested in a hime style, and she was on the slightly shorter side, almost the same height as Ayaka. She hadn't even known the girl had been in the stall this whole time, and Ayaka's face flushed red from embarrassment over the idea that she'd heard everything being said just now.
There was a dark look in her light pink eyes. She stomped over to the faucet between Ayaka and Chiyo, and she turned on the taps to wash her hands. She applied a generous amount of soap to her palms and scrubbed hurriedly, like she couldn't wait to get out of here.
Chiyo wasn't happy enough with her haste, though. She sneered as she looked away from the mirror, over at the girl beside her.
"Do you mind?" she snapped. "God, do they not teach privacy at Tokonosu Higashi?"
The girl paused. Water gathered in her clasped palms as she stared into the mirror with a dead-eyed gaze.
"You're the manager for the softball club," she noted, more to herself. Chiyo scoffed and spun her eyeliner pen in her hand.
"Duh," she said. "Have you got anything to say that isn't the most obvious thing in the world? Or do they let you be dumb and rude at your school?"
"Didn't know the bathroom was being gatekept," the girl mumbled.
"We're not gatekeeping it," Suzuran chimed in. "It was just rude that you didn't say you were in here when we came in. We could've said something super sensitive, and you could've done anything with that information."
The girl blinked slowly. She looked back down at her hands, still partially soapy and the water spilling out over the edge of her cupped palms.
"Sensitive," she repeated slowly. Then she nodded to Ayaka with a slight incline of her head. "Like how that one's obviously trying to show off her tits to all the boys in school because her daddy issues got her needy? Or what about how the coach let one of her teammates off the hook for throwing a game because they're obviously lesbian lovers?"
Chiyo sneered even more at her. "So they teach you to be liars too," she snapped. "Don't listen to her, Aya. She's just trying to get into your head before the practice match."
No. No, she wasn't. And Ayaka knew that all too well.
The girl from Tokonosu Higashi High School rolled her shoulders and looked down at her hands. She said, almost too quietly to hear, "God, you're so fake."
She clapped her hands together quickly. A stream of water shot out from a gap in her hands, hitting Chiyo straight in the eye with soapy water.
Chiyo screamed and stumbled away from the sink. Her sleeves went up to her face, rubbing the water from her eyes, and makeup smeared all over the uniform. Ayaka jumped away from the sink and ran to Chiyo's side, and he hurriedly pulled Chiyo's hands away to look at her face. Her makeup was smeared all over, her eyeliner ruined, and Ayaka hurriedly brought Chiyo to the sink to wash the soap from her reddening eye.
The girl from Tokonosu Higashi High School was casually walking out as she dried her hands on paper towels hanging from the wall. She threw up one hand, middle finger raised, as she walked out through the door and left the girls to compose themselves once again.
By the time Ayaka helped Chiyo wash the soapy water from Chiyo's eye, the bell had already rung. Ayaka sighed as she waved goodbye to Suzuran and Izayoi, who lazily headed towards class, and she turned to a fuming Chiyo as she helped clean the smeared makeup from her face.
"That bitch did that on purpose!" Chiyo seethed. "Now I don't have time to reapply my makeup again! I'm gonna look like a land whale when I go to the practice game!"
Ayaka soothed her with shushing sounds. "It's okay, I can tell the coach that you're taking a little longer," she reassured her.
Chiyo looked at Ayaka with glassy eyes. She looked ready to cry, and Ayaka's heartstrings were tugged. It wasn't that she pitied Chiyo, per se—she just felt guilty whenever someone started to cry in front of her. Ayaka was a caretaker by heart, and seeing someone to the point of tears never made it easy for her to withstand.
"You don't believe what she said, right?" Chiyo whimpered. "I'd never call you a slut—you're my BFF."
Ayaka gave her a reassuring smile. "I don't believe her," she lied. "I know you'd never say that kind of stuff about me."
"And, like, even if all the guys liked you, you're so pretty, y'know?" Chiyo went on. "Of course I'm gonna be rooting for my bestie if she gets love letters or Valentine's chocolates."
"You get a lot of love letters, too," Ayaka pointed out. "Remember Takara-kun in class two? He worked up a lot of guts to confess to you on the first day of school. I don't think anyone's done that for me before."
Chiyo's expression soured. "Yeah, but he's such an uggo," she sniffled. "His nose is way too big and his eyes are too close together. Our kids would be so gross." Chiyo dabbed at her swollen eyes. "I heard he has a receding hairline gene, or whatever it's called."
Now why did that matter?
Ayaka patted her shoulder and gave her a smile. "Take five minutes," she told her. "That'll be enough time to get some concealer and lipstick on, maybe a dusting of eyeshadow. I'll tell the coach that you're running behind because of a personal emergency."
"No, tell her that I had to run an errand for another teacher," she insisted. "Don't say which one. If she wants the deets, she can ask around herself. She'll probably forget why she was even asking by the time she gets through all of the teachers, anyway."
Ayaka nodded and headed out of the bathroom. She lingered near the doorway for a moment, though, straining her ears as she heard Chiyo pick herself up and move back to the mirror, and Ayaka wasn't sure if she was disappointed or not. She was actively seeking out this kind of thing, she told herself, so why was she even surprised at how quickly Chiyo's turnaround time was?
No sooner had she thought Ayaka had left, Chiyo began to mumble to herself with vitriol.
"Five minutes," she grumbled. "Who the fuck does makeup in five minutes? Does she think she's better than me, telling me what I should be putting on my face? Stupid bitch should get her face botoxed, if she wants to start telling someone how they should do their makeup. 'Look at me, I'm Ayaka, I'm so perfect and pretty.' Barf. Bet she won't even keep the excuse vague. Fuckin' unreliable slut."
Her best friend forever totally would never say that kind of stuff about Ayaka, she thought to herself sarcastically.
Ayaka walked away from the bathroom and heaved a sigh. She pulled her scrunchie from her wrist and pushed back her hair, tying it up in a ponytail, and she pondered if it would be worth confronting Chiyo at last. She'd been this girl's friend since their first year of high school together. They were known to be thick as thieves among the school populace. You never saw Chiyo and Ayaka apart for more than a day within the walls of Tsurugi High.
Maybe she could confront Chiyo. Say she heard every instance of Chiyo shit-talking her. Maybe she could speak to their mutual friends first to get confirmation. Chiyo might feel like their friends betrayed her trust by telling Ayaka, but did they really tell her when Ayaka knew all along? Ayaka would just be confirming what she already knew, gathering evidence to present in case Chiyo played dumb.
But maybe confronting her would be social suicide. She was the most popular girl in school. Had been for the past couple of years, even. You didn't just confront Umezawa Chiyo. You destroyed your social standing in an attempt to make Umezawa Chiyo admit wrongdoing. All of the friends Ayaka had, all of the fun she was having in high school—was it worth one little toxic friendship being held accountable? She and Chiyo probably wouldn't see each other again after high school, and it wasn't like she always smack-talked Ayaka. She had more issues with Izayoi than anyone else in the friend group, so Ayaka could just quietly defend Izayoi and comfort the girl if the complaints ever made it back to her.
Did she really want to end her final year of high school as a loner? All because she couldn't handle a bit of ribbing from one of her friends?
"Psst."
She almost missed it—the hiss to her right as she walked despondently towards the locker room of the school's gymnasium. Ayaka slowed her walk a little, puzzled, and she looked around when she heard it again, by the pillar at the edge of the hall.
"Psst."
Ayaka finally caught sight of who was catching her attention. She blinked in surprise, positive that the girl had been too thoroughly scared off—or rather, pissed off—by Chiyo's antics to give Ayaka the time of day. But there was the girl with the light pink hair, standing idly with another girl wearing the same uniform as her and watching Ayaka like a hawk.
Ayaka fixed her best smile, and she hoped she wasn't accused of being fake like Chiyo was. Ayaka liked to think she was a genuine person, even if confrontation over this particular issue was a struggle.
"Oh, hey," she chirped. "I thought you left."
"Still here," the girl said. She seemed to think for a second, and then she shifted on her feet as she rubbed the back of her neck. "Look, I'm sorry I said what I did in there. It was some… confronting stuff, but I didn't like how they pretended to be friends with you like that. Grinds my gears a little."
"Haru-chan's all about that earnestness!" the other girl chirped. "If the honesty's brutal, it's not said out of care or true concern!"
"Something like that," the girl with light pink hair mumbled.
Ayaka let out a slow breath, and somehow it began to peter into a giggle. She fixed her ponytail and adjusted her uniform, and she approached the duo more confidently.
For once, she didn't have to linger on Chiyo's words for long.
"It's fine," she admitted. "I've known for a while that she thinks about me like that. But she's the oldest friend I have, so it's hard to just… cut the umbilical cord."
The girl with light pink hair scrunched up her face a little—more a knee jerk reaction than what she was going to say on the matter—but her friend seemed to sympathise.
"Ugh, I feel you!" she said, far more animated than her companion. "One of my friends in middle school was a huge bully, and I didn't like it, but then she started bullying me when I told her to knock it off! Cutting her off hurt more than any insult or prank she threw at me."
"You get it!" Ayaka cheered with relief. She smiled at the two, more than she was before, and she held out a hand. "I'm Oku—"
"Okutani Ayaka," the duo cut her off.
The one with the light pink hair smirked. "Hard to forget swings like yours last year. You made me work for 'em."
Made her work for them…? Ayaka blinked slowly at her. She stared at the two girls, still trying to figure out what they meant, and she had an almost lightbulb moment as the reason for the girls' presence hit her like a truck. Ayaka recognised them immediately, and even if it'd been a while since she'd thought of their names, she recognised the girl with light pink hair from newspaper articles last year.
"Ah, Nakahara Miharu!" she chirped.
Miharu nodded once, pleased Ayaka remembered her. "You can call me Haru, if you wanna," she told her.
"And I'm Kanzaki Miki! Everyone calls me Mikan!"
Ayaka blinked at the two girls. And then she let out a giggle, unable to help herself.
"Gosh, Mikan sounds totally cute!" she laughed. "Like that little fruit! It totally suits you!"
"Right?" Miki agreed. "They're my favourite fruit, too! Mama always packs me some!"
Not one to miss out on a good pun, Ayaka brought a hand to her chest and proudly declared, "Then I guess you could call me Kani, if you wanted, since I love some crab tempura and my mom always packs me some for lunch."
Miki took a moment to spell out the syllables in her head, and then she was gasping as she beamed at Ayaka. Miki tugged on Miharu's arm, excited, and she said, "Haru-chan, I love her! She does food puns like I do!"
Almost as though she'd been apprehensive this whole time—and honestly, Ayaka couldn't blame her after that horrid first impression—Miharu seemed to loosen up and ease the tension in her posture. She gave Ayaka a half-smile, almost smirking in amusement, and she nodded along in agreement with Miki.
"Yeah, she's pretty alright," Miharu agreed quietly.
BRUTAL CLASSROOM ATTACK SHEDS LIGHT ON PARENTAL FAILURES
A shocking display of violence was witnessed this week at Tokonosu's Shintoko Third Elementary School by one of its students. Child A (6), a local to Tokonosu, was found beating a fellow student with a chair while the teachers had stepped away to assist another student outside the classroom. Witnesses report that Child A displayed shocking levels of manipulation during the course of the school year, even going so far as to pretend to be the victim in some instances, but this latest incident has prevented the narrative from being spun in the unruly child's behaviour.
Tokonosu locals have been shocked to hear about such an attack and have pulled their children from the school for the sake of their safety.
"Where are the child's parents in all of this?" asked one concerned mother. Her child, Child B (6), was present in the classroom during many of Child A's attempts to play the victim, but Child B's mother says her child was never believed.
It's a question that weighs heavily on many parents' heads—just where exactly are Child A's parents, and how did they raise such a monster?
Child C (6), the victim of Child A's latest rampage, gave a statement with the approval of their parents to The Chunichi Shimbun regarding the incident.
"I wasn't even doing anything," Child C told police and Chunichi Shimbun interviewers. "[Child A] just started hitting me. [My mother] says that [Child A] is like this because of bad parents letting [Child A] get away with being a bully."
Child C was taken to hospital with a fractured skull, but thankfully did not require additional surgery. There has been no statement made by Tokonosu's Shintoko Third Elementary School regarding Child A's continued enrolment.
DISCLAIMER: Per Japanese laws regarding protection of identities under the age of 18, all children involved have been anonymised. Seeking out and publishing the names of minors involved in a crime is punishable by the law.
Miria was really craving Famichiki.
Even though lunch had just ended, she didn't feel satisfied in the least. There was something missing from it all, something important, and Miria couldn't put her finger on what for the longest time. And then it hit her, just as the lunch bell rang: Famichiki.
When did she have Famichiki last? It felt like forever ago. But Miria was determined to have it now, and she paid everyone no mind as she walked out of the classroom at the end of lunch.
She could hear the whispers of people around her, confused as they watched her skip down the hall, and a few asked each other, "Where's Hime-sama going?"
The ones that knew her well, though, merely peeked out of their classrooms and waved a hand in front of Miria as she skipped without a care in the world. She came to a pause outside of one classroom, and she recognised the homemade friendship bracelets decorating the arm in front of her. Only one person like yellow this much, so it had to be Eriko.
"Where're you going, Miri-rin?" Eriko cooed. "Class is about to start."
"I really want some Famichiki," Miria giggled. She rolled back and forth on her feet as she looked over at Eriko. Behind her, another friend watched over Eriko's shoulder with mild curiosity. "There's a FamilyMart not far from school, no?"
"Ah, our Miri-rin's so simple," Eriko sighed. She lowered her hand and leaned against the open window pane. "Does this mean you're skipping class again?"
"I'm not skipping," Miria said brightly. "Class just happens to be going on while I'm eating!"
"Sure, sure."
Behind Eriko, Chinatsu pushed her glasses up her nose and blinked owlishly at Miria. "Hey, Miri-tan?" she asked, almost as quiet as a mouse.
Miria swished her twintails back and forth in front of herself as she hummed in response.
"Can you grab me a strawberry milk while you're there?" she asked.
Another girl piped up from a nearby desk, "Oh! I want a double cream puff!"
"I want banana milk!"
"Can I have an egg sando?"
Eriko waved a hand dismissively at everyone, and Miria wondered why she looked so upset.
"You guys are terrible!" she scolded the class. "At least have the decency to write it all down for poor Miri-rin! Her brain isn't big enough to fit all of that in!"
Chinatsu huffed, puffing out her cheeks, and Miria gushed at her. Oh, she looked like a little chipmunk when she did that! So cute and squishable! She wanted to pinch Chinatsu's cheeks like a shiba inu! Miria hoped she ran into a shiba inu while she was on the way to FamilyMart. There was one lady on her street who had one, and it was the cutest thing in the world, but that was farther away than FamilyMart. But there was a Lawson's near Miria's house, so maybe she could go there… No, she wanted her Famichiki today! And FamilyMart did really nice hot food anyway! She wondered what they had in the way of oden, and if they'd have anything she'd like. Some konnyaku would be nice with some daikon, especially on a skewer… And something to drink with it would be so good, too. But did she get a drink that went with the oden, or did she get a drink that paired well with the Famichiki?
Ah, she had an idea! FamilyMart had really nice frozen frappes! She'd just get a strawberry one!
"Miri-tan!" Chinatsu said loudly.
Miria blinked, and she didn't realise she'd been playing with her own hair the whole time she'd been thinking.
"Hm?" she hummed.
Chinatsu groaned and sighed, and Eriko just looked smug as she motioned towards a nearby desk that their classmates were gathering around. As soon as Chinatsu joined her classmates, Eriko leaned over the pane of the window further and motioned for Miria to come closer.
"You don't have to get everyone a snack if you don't want to," she told Miria.
Miria tilted her head to the side with another hum. "Everyone wants snacks?" she asked. She pointed towards Chinatsu with an innocent look. "I thought it was just Chinatsu-chan who asked me for something. Oh, and Aiko-chan asked for an egg sando, so I can get that for her!"
"Everyone else didn't exactly ask," Eriko told her quietly. Miria hummed and peeked past her, and she saw everyone else openly discussing and asking everyone else in the class what they wanted.
She was uncertain as she mumbled, "I 'unno if I have enough money in my purse, myuu…"
Eriko made a little shooing motion with her hand. "Run off and get your Famichiki," she whispered. Miria's heart swelled as she beamed at Eriko. "I'll tell everyone you saw a teacher and had to hurry off before you got caught."
Miria grabbed Eriko's hand and gave it a big shake, holding it tightly in her own.
"Eri-chan is so considerate! Always looking out for me!" she cheered.
She barely gave the class a second glance as she let go of Eriko's hand and sprinted towards the nearby window. Miria could hear Chinatsu notice her heading off, calling out to her to wait, but with how much time had passed since the lunch bell had rung, Miria didn't have time to stop. Not to mention, who knew how much Famichiki would be left once she got there?
Miria swung one leg over the open window, and she heard her classmates call out to her to stop. She kept moving, the second storey of the building leading out into the back garden from where she'd climbed, and Miria got to work hurrying her way out the window and down the structure of Miyagi Girls' Academy's architecture. It was always so easy to climb out this way than to take the stairs, especially since Miria had a lot of freedom from where her classroom was located. A few jumps and quick movements, and she was on the lid of the commercial garbage bin nestled next to the walled border surrounding the school.
Miria turned around to wave to her classmates—who were now peering out the windows along the second floor at her—and she hoisted herself up onto the cement wall surrounding the school. No passerby were around to stop her, and the truancy officer must've gone back inside now that lunch was over, so Miria swung her legs over and landed with a graceful pose on the other side of the wall.
Famichiki time.
She hummed to herself as she skipped along the path, following the routes in the back of her mind that she knew she'd walked before, but couldn't remember perfectly, and Miria pondered what else to get for herself. She remembered someone mentioned a flavoured milk, and she wouldn't mind one of those with her Famichiki! She knew she'd decided to get something else, but Miria couldn't quite remember what it was—and if she didn't remember, then maybe she didn't want it all that bad to begin with. Yeah, that had to be it! She was still struggling to pick what drink she'd wanted before leaving school!
The FamilyMart she was thinking of was close to the centre of Tokonosu, but so was Miria's school anyway. A lot of her classmates went there after school for snacks, and she was included in that group; Miria just really wanted some Famichiki right now, and it couldn't wait another second! What if she forgot what she wanted by the time school let out? Poor Miria would be stuck wondering why she felt so hungry and sad while she waited for Kanato to come home, and it wasn't like he could tell her what she'd wanted at lunch. Kanato was a doctor, not a mind reader, though sometimes she wondered. He was super smart about everything to do with brains, to the point where even Miria didn't know half of the things she did without him telling her! He was so smart.
Who was it that said Miria's brain wasn't big enough to fit everything in at once? Chinatsu? No, the name ended with a "ko"... Aha! It had to have been Riko who said it! She was always so silly like that, making jokes about Miria's brain. She'd even compared her brain to scrambled eggs one time, and Miria had to agree! Without that big blow to her noggin as a kid, maybe her eggy brain wouldn't have gotten all scrambled and fuzzy!
Where was she going again?
Ah! FamilyMart!
Miria exited the small side street she was skipping through and wandered out into the main street, and she could smell the distinct scent of cooked meat coming from the FamilyMart a few blocks down. Miria could feel herself start to vibrate as she sniffed the air excitedly. What if they had freshly fried chicken? What if they put something in the oden bain marie? Oh! What if they had corndogs?
She wasted no time jogging down the street, in the direction of the FamilyMart, and Miria continued to hum to herself as she passed people on the street. Some of them stared, and she heard a few call out to her to stop, but she wanted her food. If they stopped her now, someone else might buy what she wanted to eat, and Miria couldn't have that! Besides, if she followed the main streets back to Miyagi Girls' Academy, she could just climb the front gate and sneak back in easy-peasy.
Miria rounded a corner, letting out a little squee as she did so, and she came to an abrupt halt when someone grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
Miria's first instinct was to swing—only to stop when she saw the person holding her arm was a police officer.
"Oh!" she said brightly. "Whoops! Silly me, almost hitting a police officer! Sorry, officer!"
"What are you doing outside of school?" the officer demanded. His other hand was holding onto the bike he'd clearly been patrolling on, and his vest had white stripes in a V pattern running down the front. Uh-oh, was he a bicycle officer?
"I was hungry?" Miria tried. She tried to pull her arm free, but the officer glared down at her and squeezed her arm tighter. "Officer, you're hurting me a little, myuu…"
"Unbelievable," the officer said, more to himself than Miria. "Skipping school? Did your parents not teach you any better?"
Miria pursed her lips and tried to yank her arm free again. The officer yanked her back, and Miria stumbled into his bike with a squeak.
"You're coming with me, missy," he told her, stern and leaving no room for arguments. "What's this uniform? The girls' school? Oh, we'll be giving them a call. And they can tell your guardians how disgraceful your behaviour is today."
He began to walk off while holding Miria's arm, and Miria looked back over towards the direction of the FamilyMart. No… If she got dragged away, what would happen to her chicken? She wanted her Famichiki so bad…
"You kids these days think you can get away with anything," the officer was grumbling. Miria looked up at him, and his wrinkled face was pinched in anger. His grip on her arm got tighter, somehow, and Miria felt so uncomfortable. "Your parents work hard to put you in a school like Miyagi, and here you are, wasting their hard-earned money. No respect for your elders. I bet the money you were gonna buy food with came straight from their wallets, too. You steal that from under their nose?"
"I didn't steal," Miria insisted. "Kuu-chan gives me—"
"Can't even call your guardian a more respectful thing! Where do youngsters get off on calling their parents by their first names?" The officer shoved her forward, and Miria could feel so many eyes on her as they walked in the direction of the nearest kōban. She recognised some faces, albeit distantly, and one group of old ladies seemed almost smug as they watched the officer drag Miria along with him. "When I was your age, you know what we were doing? Listening to the man of the house and respecting our roles in society. You couldn't just be some snot-nosed brat who loitered about every day. Dainty thing like you wouldn't last a minute in the fields. Too worried about your makeup and your perms."
"I don't have a perm—" Miria tried.
"Look at the mouth on you! Interrupting your elder! Your parents are in for it when I give them a call. Who lets their kid get so disrespectful in this day and age?"
"I—" Miria struggled to keep her breathing calm as he continued to drag her. "I—I have a— an acquired br—"
He still wouldn't let her speak. The one thing Kanato always told her was most important to disclose to police and ambulances during an emergency, and he wouldn't listen.
"Excuses!" the officer spat. He came to a stop, and Miria felt her legs turning to jelly as she started to hyperventilate. "If it's not the disrespect, it's the excuses! You're too young to have anything wrong with you! Stop lying to get out of trouble!"
Some of the onlookers were moving on now, satisfied with seeing the pink-haired girl brought to justice, and Miria whimpered as she struggled again against the man's grip. This police officer was so mean, and he was nothing like what Kanato had told her a good police officer would be like. He never listened when Miria spoke, and she knew that fighting back against him would be wrong, but she wanted him to let go of her. Miria didn't want to get yelled at, but at the same time… She was being yelled at even if she didn't hurt him, and that wasn't fair at all.
Someone began to approach them, and Miria continued to whimper as the police officer turned towards the shuffling person. He sneered, leaning the bike against his body, and he lifted his free hand to shoo the person away.
"Can it wait?" he said, unimpressed as the woman with the sun hat on her head shuffled closer. It looked like her leg was broken, Miria thought, because it was all bent the wrong way and she kept stumbling when she put weight on it. "I'm sure another officer will come through here and help you with whatever—"
He didn't get to finish his sentence. He shooed the woman away again, and she began to reach out for him. The officer cut himself off to warn her to back off, and when she didn't, he let go of Miria and reached for the radio on his vest.
"Drunk and disorderly in public," he reported. "Four blocks away from Tokonosu central kōban, heading westward. I've got a truant I'm escorting, can someone else handle this?"
The woman moved closer, and the officer snarled at her as he let go of his radio. Miria began to inch away from him as he shoved out at the woman, and she seemed to stumble back a bit, still reaching for the officer.
"Back up!" he shouted at her. The woman's head rolled to the side, almost as though she was finally able to hear him, and she began to advance again. "I said, back up!"
The moment the woman's hands grazed his arms, it was like she was suctioned to him. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist tightly, yanking him towards her, and the police officer let out a shout as he was dragged over the top of his bike. Miria eyed the bike as he struggled, stumbling over it as the woman dragged him closer, and she looked up just in time to see the woman open her mouth and stuff his fingers inside.
The fingers were bitten clean off in an instant.
Miria stared in shock and awe as the police officer screamed. The remaining onlookers also screamed, though more in horror than pain, and some even ran forward to pry the woman off of the officer. He kicked his legs out, punching at her and calling for help, and Miria saw him look back at her with an almost pleading expression on his face.
She hurried over to him, pulling the bike away from his legs, and he was able to stand on solid ground without his legs tangled in his bike.
"Thank you for the bike, myuu!" Miria chirped.
The officer began to scream anew, this time yelling expletives at Miria as she mounted the bike and began to pedal away. Whatever was happening wasn't her problem, and he was a meanie anyway! The bike would get her to FamilyMart way quicker, and it wasn't like he was using it right now. So Miria pedalled away, the man's screams becoming fainter and fainter the more she put distance between herself and the scene, and she licked her lips in anticipation.
What kind of drink should she get with her Famichiki? Maybe a soda would go down nicely with it. She was sure she had a drink in mind before this mess, but she couldn't remember for the life of her what she wanted.
Oh well. If it wasn't something she could remember, she must not have wanted it that bad. So a soda was just perfect!