Chapter Text
The phone hanging up felt like an earthquake.
“I’ve just contacted your guardians. Never in my years have I seen such atrocious behavior. Students of Karasuno behaving like mindless animals undermine the integrity we’ve established; I can’t express how—how disappointed and furious I am!”
Five students stood obediently in a row. One sported a bloody nose. The second was experiencing severe stomach pain. The third had remnants of chalk dust on his bruised jaw. A bandage was tacked onto the fourth’s forehead. The fifth was a trembling, frothing-at-the-mouth chihuahua—the kind of chihuahua where a sweating father hesitantly lies to his kid that the chihuahua went on vacation when actually, he had to book it a permanent one.
None of the students were spared from the lecture; the scolding came wave after wave, until finally, Yorita lurched over with a groan. Takehiro side-eyed you.
“It’s his stomach,” he said scathingly.
“Tell him to suck it up. Actually—” You leaned toward Yorita’s face. “Hey, suck it up.”
“Urgh…”
Takehiro whirled to you. “What the hell’s your problem?”
“My problem? You come over and harass us and get your ass kicked; I’ll do it again! And this time I’ll shove that chalk up your—”
“ENOUGH! I will not hear any more arguing! You will all behave, especially. You. Two. Do you understand?”
The tension hardly relented as you and Takehiro exchanged one last scowl. “Yes, sir,” you both said unanimously.
“Good. Takehiro, Usami—take Yorita to the nurse’s for a further check-up. I’ll inform you what your punishments will be after.”
The boys shuffled cautiously around you. You… bared your teeth.
“Just remember that I let you live,” you warned as they exited the office with sour faces, straightening up when the vice principal shot you another look.
“Honestly…” he sighed, deflating and seemingly aging a decade. “And just what do you girls have to say for yourselves?”
Yachihuahua the 99% Tremble and 1% Survivalist looked over to you.
You raised your hand.
“Vice Principal, sir,” you said cordially. “I was defending myself.”
“Self-defense should not escalate to this.”
Guiltily, Yachi could somewhat understand. If she hadn’t witnessed it at all, she might’ve been inclined to believe him. Aside from Takehiro’s face, the injuries the other two sustained looked worse than yours.
“From my understanding, your records say that you and your family moved here not too long ago!” the vice principal continued, unaware of the subtle annoyance you were emitting. Yachi shuffled nervously. “As a newer student, causing trouble is hardly a way to make a good impression on your peers. And I expect the boys to be rowdy, but you? I thought a young lady like yourself would be smarter than that.”
And that was… incredibly sexist, if Yachi had to say. It seemed that you thought the same, because your frustration just swelled.
“But I really was defending myself!” you insisted, your even tone descending into irritation. “They started it. They were bothering Yachi-san, and then they dragged me into it!”
The vice principal tutted, and yikes, Yachi didn’t have to look at your face to know you were seething. “Getting all worked up won’t solve anything. I’ll have to ask you to step out of the office to settle down while I talk to Yachi-san here. I’ll call you back in when we’re done.”
Yachi heard you slowly exhale, which was probably an unspoken ‘I’ll step out before I throw a chair at you too’.
“...Excuse me,” you said, disgruntled, leaving with an equally sour face.
“Now then”—the vice principal turned to Yachi—“is that true, Yachi-san?”
“Huh?”
“I’d like to hear your side of the story. I sent her out to calm down, yes, but this is also an opportunity for me to hear whatever you’d like to say—in case her presence was pressuring you,” he informed kindly.
Yachi knew he was only providing a safe space. She knew he was only trying to help, but everything he was thinking wasn’t true and you never did anything of the sort. Why was it that everyone assumed you did something wrong? That you were the problem?
(And she was one of those people. She’s never regretted anything so much.)
“She was telling the truth,” was all she said.
“…Very well,” he replied, looking like he still held a shred of doubt. “You may fetch your friend.”
Oh goodness, he said the F-word.
Friends? Was that how the two of you appeared? After everything that’s happened, Yachi hoped it made you at least acquaintances, but friends? Like, F-R-I-E-N-D? She didn’t feel worthy of the title. The standard process of Yachi’s Guide to Making Safe Friends 101 went something like 1) introduce yourself. 2) talk and get to know each other. 3) be friends. It should not go something like 1) be scared. 2) be scared and assume they committed cannibalism. 3) be scared and trauma-bond through harassment by third parties.
She was veering off the road. “Do you believe me?” she pleaded.
His stern face faltered a little. “Something like this can’t go unpunished,” was his vague answer.
Go unpunished, she nearly squawked, opting to speed walk out of the office to hide her crumbling guilt. She spotted the outline of your back a few ways away, far enough that it made more sense to walk over than awkwardly shout out to you. You didn’t notice her, staring down the empty hallway with a distracted look until she timidly said your name.
You turned, eyes darting everywhere and eventually settling on her shoes.
“Hey,” you began, “I’ll make sure you won’t…I swear—”
“HEY!”
A harsh voice suddenly overlapped yours. Yachi materialized behind your back. When nothing exploded, she registered the thumping footsteps and peered around you. There’s a figure sprinting towards them with limbs flailing about and it’s… Kazue the Handsome Baker?
She watched, transfixed, as he steamrolled to a stop before you. Even when sweating and sputtering out nasty plague-worthy coughs that would kill a healthy child from the Meiji era, he looked absurdly photogenic. Yachi could see it on an absurd TV ad—Discover your Dangerous Disaster: Dropping Dead from a Dreadful Disease. However, the thought vanished when he leaned in to clamp your shoulders, glaring at you with a strangely familiar ferocity that Yachi would never imagine plastered on his serene face. But what’s even more surprising is that you’re not reacting; you’re only looking away with soured annoyance. What was going on? Wasn’t this the part where you’re supposed to dislocate his shoulders? Break his kneecaps? Deliver an uppercut to his jaw? Throw another chair?
“Did… *COUGH* EUGHH-EHHEHURK, bleh… you…”
As if to conclude the budding chaos, the vice principal peered out of his office, wondering what the hold-up was.
“What’s going on?” he demanded as he hurried over. “Who are you?!”
Kazue didn’t even spare a glance, only focused on finishing his delivery. “Did you win?” he pressed.
Pride flashed dangerously in your eyes and you scowled, digging a finger into his shoulder. “I don’t sully our family name.”
A short nod. “Good.”
“Ahem!” The vice principal wasn’t impressed by this exchange. At his glare, Kazue straightened up and cleared his throat, bowing shortly.
“My name is Kazue.”
“...You’re the one I called earlier? You look younger than I expected.”
“I promise I’m a fully functional adult. (Unlike the other one in my vicinity.)”
“Er, I didn’t quite catch that?”
“Sorry, I was coughing. Cough, cough!”
“Functional, huh?” you muttered.
And Yachi’s brain finally processed the conversation, while simultaneously remembering another one.
…just started attending this year. We’ve been here for a while now, but she still needs more time to be comfortable. If you see her, could you talk to her? She’s a shy wee girl.
The threatening expressions you both could wear. The experience with baking. The shared genetic beauty. It was all coming together.
“You’re siblings?!” she blurted.
“Mhmgheh,” you grumbled.
“And you’re friends now,” Kazue cheered.
“And you’re still in trouble!” the vice principal concluded. That sobered the mood a little.
Not Kazue’s. “I see.” He smiled, but his eyes weren’t. “What’s her punishment?”
“I’ve yet to discuss this with the other faculty, but it’s clear that assaulting other students is unacceptable. A case like this typically results in a suspension. Two days for her. Three for the boys. And extra hours on school chores. Whatever club activities you have would be on hold.”
“Two days?” You gaped. “Is there another—wouldn’t people notice?”
And Yachi understood your unease. If she knew anything about school rumors, it was that they spread like wildfire. Your below-average reputation would plummet and there’d be little to no chance of restoring it—unless you moved schools, but that was too drastic and not what she wanted at all.
“A suspension?” Kazue clarified.
“A suspension,” the vice principal confirmed.
A pause.
“What if I suspended you from breathing?”
Your hand lurched forward to grip Kazue’s neck.
“I accept the suspension!” you loudly interrupted before anyone processed that statement, and tried to shove him. “Why are you even here? Just get—go home! I’ll talk to you later.”
Kazue didn’t budge. “Not until we sort this out.”
And while he didn’t budge mentally, he finally did so physically. Another shove proved to be unfortunately successful, as Kazue’s whole frame knocked into the vice principal, who had no time to react and staggered back.
“Oh,” you said.
It didn’t end there. Everyone’s eyes, which were already focused on the flailing vice principal, drifted to his head. Or rather, his hair. More specifically, the fact that it was detaching and the fact that it was detachable and the fact that it was now detached.
“Ah,” said Kazue.
Yachi felt like she was in a slow fever dream. Was the toupee flying? The toupee was flying! Alive! Its tufts seemed to form wings that flapped like a headless chicken. Or was it literally headless, for it had no balding surface to lay its tufts on? A harsh light glared from the vice principal’s head, casting a blinding light that had everyone shielding their faces.
“My eyes!” Kazue screeched, his voice echoing in the hall.
Flap flap! Flap flap!
It plopped onto your head.
The fact that it was attaching and the fact that it was attachable and the fact that it was now attached to your scalp, well. Anyone would lose their mind.
“AUGH.” You trembled. “AUGH.”
Kazue peeked up at the sound of your distress and let out a strangled gasp. As quick as a flash, his arm swiped to take the toupee, but missed and decked you in the face. The pained squawk seemed to be coming out from the toupee rather than from you, for it shook its tresses in distress and took off from your head like a bird, fluttering and nesting itself onto Kazue’s.
Something akin to a kettle whistling emitted from Kazue. It never stopped, even as he calmly yanked it off and gently slammed it back onto the vice principal’s head, rotating his toupee so the bangs didn’t cover his eyes.
Kazue backed away… towards the exit. “Actually, you will sort this out,” he said calmly with newfound PTSD. “I should go.”
“You should,” you said hollowly.
“I agree,” the vice principal added, shaking.
“I will.”
You nodded. “Yeah.”
“Of course.” The vice principal also nodded.
“You’re not balding,” Kazue blurted, then had the audacity to look horrified at himself.
“He’s not.”
“I am not.”
“You’re not.”
“Bye!” you stressed out.
When everyone blinked, Kazue was gone. Yachi strained her ears. There was a faint sound of a handsome man exploding in the distance.
Now that it was back to the three of them, the vice principal coughed.
“Back to the matter at hand…” he started.
You stopped cradling the spot Kazue punched you, which, unfortunately, was the spot you were already injured in. “I accept the suspension. But I don’t see the point in involving Yachi-san. She didn’t do anything.”
Useless, Yachi’s mind whispered, automatically taking it the wrong way, but she pushed it down. What can she do in this situation? To not be useless? She couldn’t stand the thought of you taking any blame.
“It’s noble that you want to defend your friend, but—”
“Vice Principal, sir,” you interrupted cordially. “She’s not my friend.”
Yachi barely suppressed the surprised flinch. She looked to you with wide eyes, suddenly feeling so hurt. She didn’t expect to hear you say that. But she also did. But not now. But she also hoped you wouldn’t dissolve her hopes of being friends.
“I accept whatever responsibility you’ll have for me,” you continued, looking just as unfeeling as the day Yachi first met you. You didn’t meet her eyes.
What’s going on? How come you’re suddenly dismissing her? This wasn’t like you. But did she really have the right to claim she knew you well enough?
And it was unlike her, but Yachi tuned out the conversation, because she’s focused on you, trying to pick apart everything and anything she could. Your posture had been straight and stiff, but you were slightly slouching; you were touching your forehead again, grimacing, albeit it seemed to be a subconscious action. It was understandable—not only did Kazue get a fresh hit to your face, but having a camera pitched at you prior didn’t help.
And suddenly, Yachi made a garbled, choking noise out of enlightenment, interrupting the vice principal. Not her finest moment.
“I have to get something!” she blurted, flustered at your alarmed look. “Please excuse me, I’ll be right back!”
Two days passed. School resumed as normal for the most part. Yachi hadn’t been able to catch a glimpse of you since.
“I haven’t seen that girl in a while.”
It was the same scenario as all those days ago. Yachi was taking out her school shoes from her locker, with the same pair of girls from your class huddling close enough for her to hear.
“Me too, but you know what else is crazy? Three guys from class 5 are rumored to be suspended and transferred to a different class! My friend, whose boyfriend is on the baseball team, told me that his coach told him that his teammate won’t be playing for a while. And that teammate is from class 5.”
“Are you for real?! What did they do?”
“There was a fight, but I don’t think it was with each other. The boyfriend said they always get along, so…”
“Someone picked a fight with them? They gotta be crazy to do that.”
Then, as if it were planned, they both straightened up in realization.
“Hey… you think that girl did it?”
“No way… you think that’s why she’s not here too?”
“Wouldn’t be surprised. It seemed like she was bound to start something anyway—”
BAM!
The girls jumped at the locker slamming shut.
Yachi twisted the latch down and left for her classroom.
Just like how you’d been missing school, so were her bullies.
Although they weren’t physically present, she could still feel their phantom stares from where they’d usually be sitting. She tried to reassure herself that they wouldn’t be bothering her anymore and that they should be old news, which was good. But the events were still fresh in her mind—it didn’t help that she was in the same spot when it happened. She eyed the board, where she pictured their crude doodles. She eyed the chairs, trying to see if she could locate the same one you threw.
You weren’t suspended, to the best of her knowledge. The talk with the vice principal ended in your favor. She figured since she didn’t see you yesterday, she’d see you today, but with those girls confirming you’re not here again, it was a cause for concern. She didn’t have your contact info, so her best bet was to go to Kanemori, if he was here today. If not him, then… the bakery. She could ask your brother. But was she allowed to? You said that the two of you weren’t friends.
Which was still a blow.
Yachi waited until class was over, then headed to your club. Now with Kanemori in mind, she wondered how she was going to explain the situation if he hadn’t heard the rumors. But that thought was pushed aside when she reached her destination and slowed to a stop. Before her were some students standing outside next to the closed doors of the home economics club; they didn’t seem to notice her, all fixated and tense. The aprons wrapped around each of them told Yachi that these were the other members of the club, and it seemed like they were trying to eavesdrop on whatever conversation was inside.
“Excuse me…” she started, but it made every single one of them shriek and whip their heads to her. They simultaneously put a finger to their mouths, their eyes wide with panic—not that it did anything since the damage was already done. The voices inside quieted, and a pair of footsteps was thundering over.
“You should leave!” one of the students urged Yachi. “There’s danger up ahead.”
“I AM THE DANGER!” came your scream as the door flew open, spittle flying from your mouth. Yachi’s ears rattled at the sheer power of your voice. “YOU SHOULD LEAVE!!”
Needless to say, they all scattered like ants. Yachi was just about to join them as a fellow ant when you caught sight of her and faltered. That made Yachi also stop in her tracks. The two of you just stared at each other, even as the final member’s trembling back disappeared from view.
“...Where’ve you been?” Yachi bravely started. “I, um, haven’t seen you in a while.”
Your face scrunched. “Been out. And I gotta go. Bye.”
You politely pushed past her. Yachi was stunned. She stared at your departing back.
Wait…
But the person sniffling inside grabbed her attention, so Yachi hesitantly checked. He was in a fetal position and clutching something tightly to his chest.
“Senpai…” Yachi began, kind of wishing she had ignored him to pursue you instead. “Are you okay?”
Another sniffle. “Yeah.”
“Then please get off the floor.”
Kanemori reluctantly listened, propping himself against the wall and taking off his wet glasses. He looked really pathetic, but Yachi would never say that out loud. She went to get the napkins from the counter and handed them to him, noting that he took them with the hand that wasn’t wrapped in bandages.
“How’s your hand doing? I heard you were injured…?”
“Oh, this?” He sulked deeper. “I accidentally scalded myself with boiling water the other day. Careless on my end. It’s doing a bit better, but this is my dominant hand, so I can’t really do anything… just like how I couldn’t stop her…”
He was obviously referring to you. As much as she wanted to press him, she wasn’t trying to stress him out.
Yachi eyed the object in his grasp. “What’s that?”
“It’s aloe vera ointment she gave… to m-meeee…”
Yachi looked up at the ceiling as a fresh wave of tears dribbled down Kanemori’s face. If it were any other day, she’d be fussing over an injured and sad person, but she felt like you were more important to leave unattended than to have any patience for the upperclassman.
Since the damage was already done, she might as well go for it. “What did you two talk about, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Kanemori took another handful of tissues. “She said she was quitting the club.”
“Really?” Didn’t you like cooking and baking?
“And she likes cooking and baking!” Kanemori exclaimed, smacking his face dry. “She hasn’t been here for long, but I can just tell she really enjoys it. But she won’t tell me why she’s quitting. I don’t think she wanted to. Wait…” He sat up straighter in horror. “You don’t think she hates me?!”
“...I don’t think that’s the reason,” Yachi said after a moment.
“Well, she’ll probably talk to you about it.” He wiped his nose. “You two are friends, right?”
Yachi smiled awkwardly. If you didn’t tell your club president, then why would you tell her?
Kanemori cleared his throat. “I can tell you’ve been itching to, so I’m sorry for holding you back like this. You’ve seen another moment of weakness in me.”
“Um, itching to do what?”
Kanemori’s glasses were already equipped back on. They glinted in the light, and he pushed them up in a somewhat smug manner that made Yachi lean back in confusion. “To pursue her, of course. Her coolness and beauty always leave one feeling as if they’re chasing a mystery.”
Yachi let out a sigh of relief. He’ll be fine.
“Well then, if you’ll excuse me…” She headed towards the doors, gaining confidence with each step as her mind zeroes in on confronting you.
“I’m going to go after her.”
A collection of photos taken by Usami unintentionally documented the bullying incident.
The first photo featured Yachi standing in front of the board with her back facing the camera. Her hand clutched the eraser. She was curling into herself from humiliation.
The second was mostly similar, but what stuck out was the additional group selfie. The boys stuck out peace signs at the camera, a complete contrast to what was going on in the background.
The third featured you standing at the doorway of Yachi’s classroom. You were frowning at the scene before you.
The fourth was the same, except your hand was on your bag’s strap, as if ready to fling it off at a moment’s notice.
The fifth had Takehiro walking towards you. His face wasn’t visible here, but yours was, and your eyes were wide with surprise.
The sixth photo was where things took a drastic turn, as you’re further inside the classroom, and your blurry fist was ricocheting into Takehiro’s cheek.
Yachi stood outside the bakery, shaking like a chihuahua.
Her confidence started to dwindle when the bakery came into view, but she knew it was now or never. She pushed the doors open, and of course, the bell chimed. But there was an additional pop! and a sudden splash of rainbows that temporarily filled her vision.
She sputtered. Some of it got into her mouth. Her head whipped towards the old man who was holding the freshly used popper.
“I get a free drink of choice if I do this,” the old man told her with crazed eyes, then dashed through the crowd to the register.
“Um, okay…?”
Brushing the confetti off, she gawked around. There were plenty of colorful streamers that weren’t there before, hanging on the walls. The tables had pink tablecloths, all topped with delectable pastries. Pink balloons floated in bundles at different spots, while fairy lights were strung from corner to corner. Was this a reserved birthday party? Did that old man get the wrong guest of honor? Oh, she desperately hoped she didn’t have to pay for that party popper.
The energy in the bakery, which had been calm the last time she visited, was now abuzz with an uplifting one. Clusters of customers all regarded her with smiles, raising their plastic cups like they were wine glasses, toasting her.
“It’s a girl!” they hurrah’d.
A gender reveal?!
Yachi could not handle all of these eyes on her. She was definitely in the wrong building, but no, that was definitely Kazue in a pink apron and walking to her with a skip in his step.
“Kazue-san!” she blurted as the crowd parted in two to make way for him. “I’m not pregnant!” she hissed in embarrassment.
He stopped mid-skip and gave her a weird look. “What? I don’t need to know that.”
Oh. Then she assumed wrong. She short-circuited in all sorts of ways, praying for her brain to come up with something until she saw you sitting at a table in the corner.
Your head was in your hands.
Kazue pulled out a metal spoon from his pocket and tinked his bona fide wine cup from who-knows-where, before clearing his throat.
“To celebrate my sister making her first friend,” Kazue announced loudly, his arms spread wide, as if he were about to sacrifice himself to lie six feet below, which Yachi was certain you were ready to assist with, “free cake pops for everyone!”
The customers cheered. Someone popped open a bottle of champagne.
Kazue wasn’t done. “Only after purchasing an iced tea. I still have a business to run, people.”
The customers booed. They moodily cleaned up the champagne.
Kazue went to you and swatted your shoulder. “Go prepare the iced tea. I know the people want the cake pops.”
You got up like someone was yanking strings attached to your shoulders, rolled your eyes with reddening ears, and slinked to the kitchen. Yachi stood, terribly unsure of what to do next. She just figured you might be here and she’d pull you aside for a quiet chat. Not this crowded explosion of a fake gender-reveal party!
Kazue gestured for her to sit. “We have everything you could possibly want from a bakery! Except we don’t have brownies. I hate brownies.”
Yazue complied and pulled out a chair. “I… guess I’ll have an iced tea? But um, Kazue-san, what’s with all the decorations?”
He waved his hand in your general direction. “She told me she ran into you earlier, and I just knew you’d come by! Trusted my instincts. And my loyal customers helped me with the decor. This is worth celebrating, believe me. So…”
And to Yachi’s absolute bafflement, Kazue bowed. “Thank you for being her friend. It really means a lot to me and her.”
“I… but…” She was speechless. “Oh, please, you don’t have to do that! I don’t think it’s the right gesture when she said… we’re not friends.”
He straightened up at that. Whatever joy he was displaying was replaced with a stink-eye. “Really,” Kazue crowed in exasperation at your direction. “What a loser. She said that, but is that what you want?”
“No.” Her answer was swift, surprising even her.
“She told me what happened that day,” Kazue continued. “Everything. I know about your art project, the food prep, and let me tell you. She’s practicing her piping work for this. My sister doesn’t show it, but she’s happy whenever she talks about you.”
Yachi’s face was warm. “R-really?”
“I wouldn’t lie about that. Now”—he clasped his hands—“iced tea should be coming about… Ah, there you are.”
You approached the pair with a tray of tea. Your eyes were twitching.
“I’ll leave you to it! Don’t worry, I only told Yacchan the most embarrassing childhood stories.”
“Thank you,” you gritted out. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome! I better get going, I think old man Yato is waiting for his free drink, because I see him crawling over my counter. Enjoy yourselves!”
Kazue skipped away. You set down Yachi’s cup of tea, and she’s trying to figure out if the veins bulging on your hand were real.
“My fat mouth told him I ran into you earlier, and he just… knew you’d come by!” you groaned. “I’m really sorry about the trouble. You can just leave if you want, and I’ll… compensate somehow.”
“There’s no need for that,” Yachi laughed nervously. You’re right here again, with a new band-aid on your forehead. Where does she start? “Um, Kanemori-senpai said you’re quitting the club?”
“Oh.” You looked away. “Yeah, I think I’m done. I was only there earlier because he had mentioned he was out of ointment the other day. Figured I’d get him one as thanks for all he’s done.”
“He was very… how should I put this?”
“Nice?” You sipped your tea. “Sure, for formalities, but he hardly looks me in the eye. And he’s always holding his breath around me, so either I stink, which I’ve checked, or he doesn’t like me to the point where he can’t stand to breathe the same air as me. And I can say that because I think I’m a good judge of character.”
Yachi thought you couldn’t be more wrong, but what was between you and Kanemori was none of her business. Good luck, senpai.
“How have you been doing, by the way?” Your voice broke her out of her thoughts. “I know those losers aren’t there right now, but did anything else happen while I was gone?”
“No, I’ve been fine. Same as usual.” Yachi fiddled with her drink, uneasy. “Actually, sometimes it feels like they’re just around the corner and waiting for me.”
Your face dropped. “I’m really sorry you went through that. And, um, sorry for scaring you with the violence. I just didn’t see how else we’d get outta there…”
Both of you fell silent, opting to watch Kazue irritably remake Yato’s free drink because the old man wasn’t satisfied.
“...It was scary,” Yachi said slowly, “but I thought you looked really cool. Especially when you threw off your bag to fight. I wish I had a photo of that.”
You flushed. “O-oh, thanks.” Not sure what else to do, you downed your tea and poured yourself another one. “...My favorite part was throwing that chair. It felt satisfying. But it’s a good thing that wasn’t on your camera. I don’t think a photo of that would’ve helped my case. Speaking of that…”
And once again, to Yachi’s absolute bafflement, you stood up and bowed. “Thank you for supporting me. The vice principal would’ve suspended me otherwise.”
Yachi squeaked, flustered. “Y-you really are like your brother, huh?”
You snapped straight at that statement. “Don’t say that,” you begged as you sat back down.
“So, how come you’ve been gone, then? If you weren’t suspended.”
“I… I just needed to step away. The only difference between that and a suspension is that it wouldn’t go on my record. I’ll be fine with the schoolwork.” You threw back another cup and refilled it.
“Oh. And the club?”
You shook your head. “I go straight home now. No point in staying after class.”
“Yes, but why did you quit?” Yachi pressed. “I know you like making food, so I suppose it just doesn’t make sense to me.”
There’s another pause. You looked to the side, and Yachi absentmindedly followed your gaze, where old man Yato was throwing himself over the counter since Kazue still wasn’t using the right ratios for a strawberry peach lemonade.
“The club doesn’t like me,” you finally sighed in defeat. “No one in the school likes me.”
“B-but… that’s not true! I like you!”
Yachi slapped a hand over her mouth.
So embarrassing. She shrank, hoping old man Yato would come over and strangle her instead of strangling Kazue.
You, on the other hand, were pleasantly startled.
“Oh. Really? Wow, then, um… do you wanna hang out at lunch tomorrow?” And before she could answer, your face wilted. “Actually… do you really want to be my friend? I’m not the nicest person. I get so annoyed easily, I say a lot of rude things, and I can't always keep it in check.” Your eyes peered up at her, and the sight of them glistening made Yachi want to grab your hands. “What if you get sick of me?”
“I wouldn’t,” Yachi promised vehemently. “I’d never!”
The sparkle in your eyes grew, enhanced by the fairy lights above. “This is super embarrassing, but I’m already looking forward to tomorrow.”
Yachi beamed back at that. Feeling cheesy, she held up her cup. “Cheers?”
You also raised your cup with a faint smile. “Cheers.”
As both of you clinked your cups, the crowd, cake pops and iced tea in hand, was betting and egging on the brawl between Kazue and old man Yato—both were rolling on the floor with spilled strawberry peach lemonade stained on their clothes.
“Shouldn’t you go—?”
“He’ll be fine.”
“...You mean Kazue-san?”
“Old man Yato.”
There was a collection of photos taken by Yachi, highlighting all the wonderful moments that led up to your friendship.
The first photo could almost serve as a visual for an upcoming movie. Real blood coated your knife, clothes, face, and mouth. Your eyes were fixated on the unidentifiable red slab on your cutting board.
(“We should frame these,” Kazue had said thoughtfully. “I also want the one where she’s punching that other kid.”
“How about I recreate a new one right now? Doesn’t have to be with that loser when there’s one right in front of me.”)
The following photos were mostly of the food you made. There were half-eaten macarons, cookies, and curry.
There were some selfies, candids, and miscellaneous photos.
The last one was you throwing a peace sign next to your former club and its new poster; you and Yachi kept your promise and worked on creating a large graphic poster that suited the club’s likeness as a last thank-you gift to Kanemori. It featured your highly detail-oriented blueberry-lemon macarons sitting next to a bowl of curry, where the steam was seemingly reaching out to entice the viewer.
The club president was very pleased with the gift. He thanked Yachi, then thanked you with less visible enthusiasm, since he was holding his breath again. When the two of you left, you gave Yachi an I-told-you-so look, and busted laughing.
And Yachi giggled along.
.
.
.
“Hey, you dropped this.”
It was lunch break. It was lunch break, and you’re holding an eraser that your classmate dropped. You weren’t sure what his name was, since you hadn’t bothered to learn the names of your classmates.
“Hello? You dropped this?”
But he didn’t respond or react right away, which had you waiting for a tad too long. You were starting to feel embarrassed, and it paved the way to slight irritation.
“Dude, you dropped this eraser.”
That seemed to snap him out of it.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, taking it. Was he staring at your notes?
“Oi, Kageyama, hurry up! I’ll race you to the gym.”
You blew your hair out of your face as he stampeded out after the orange-haired kid. Kageyama was his name?
What a weirdo.