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Act 1-E: Fire in the Sky
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My alarm clock blares at me to wake up: 11:30am. A swift fist to the snooze button silences it, and I roll over on my mattress to head back to sleep. Ever my mortal enemy, the sun protests, creeping into my room through slightly opened blinds. Can't I just have 10 more minutes?

'Wake up, Hisao,' my brain commands. 'You made a promise. Keep it this time.'

I toss the sheets back, hopping out of bed and rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I take a glance in the mirror attached to my closet door. The image is familiar: a lithe, messy-haired kid with a rather grim expression on his face. I think I've really looked in a mirror maybe a handful of times since the accident. It's sobering.

“You're gonna cheer up,” I tell myself. “At least for today.”

I reach into the closet, pulling out a towel and heading for the showers. It's as empty as always, barring that one time that Kenji walked in stark naked after my shower. That's... not a pleasant mental image. Let's not go there.

The water warms up quickly, and I go through my regular shampoo-wash-rinse cycle. I like taking time to just stand under the hot water; it's relaxing, and a good time for introspection. I start thinking about that nightmare from yesterday. Was I close to lucid near the end there? It felt like I was in control, to some extent, but I just... couldn't wake up.

Maybe I'm over-thinking things. It's probably nothing to be worried about, honestly. I certainly hope so.

I step out of the shower, drying myself off liberally. The towel wraps around my waist before I head back to my room. Were we supposed to dress up today? Given that the school is hosting the festival, it's probably safe to assume so. Besides, I'd rather be overdressed than underdressed. I pull a clean uniform out of the closet, slip on the pieces, and make sure my tie is loose enough to be comfortable.

Snazzy.

I head out the door, fumbling with my keys when a thought hits me. Is Kenji planning on going to the festival? He doesn't seem like much of a people person, but maybe there's more to him than meets the eye. I elect to take a shot at inviting him to the festival and knock on the door to his impenetrable fortress.

A few seconds pass. “Who's there?” his voice booms from the other side. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“It's Hisao,” I answer. “And yeah, it's... 11:45ish.”

“Too early. And just how can I be sure that you're Hisao? You could be a feminist spy in disguise!”

I frown, my brow furrowed. Why does he have to be so stubborn? Maybe I can get down on his level. “Why don't you come see for yourself, then?”

“Not a chance! You'll gas me and take me away into their clutches! Well you won't take me alive!” Strangely, I can hear the numerous locks on his door coming undone. The hinges creak open, and the man of mystery himself appears, carrying a short wooden pole. He leans in closer, standing on his toes and glaring at me through his glasses. He's oddly calm, given his rather hostile earlier attitude.

The scowl on his face tightens. If his lenses weren't so thick, I'm certain I could see my reflection in his eyes. His expression relaxes, and he falls back down to flat footing. His frown morphs into a smile. “Hisao, how you been, bro?”

“'How you been?' You talked to me yesterday. And what happened to me being a feminist spy?”

He frowns again. “Not important. Put it behind us. And lots of things change between days. Just ask ol' Abe Lincoln.”

“Who?”

“Exactly.”

I don't think I'll ever understand this man. “Look, I just wanted to see if you were going to the festival or not.” He glares at me, obviously confused. “You mean you haven't heard the people outside?”

A switch flips in his head. Full paranoid time. “People?! Why wasn't I warned about this? Dammit, Takeshi, you fail me again!” He grabs my wrist, starting to pull me into his room. “C'mon, man, it's not safe out here. We have to hunker down, man up with pretzels and whiskey!”

I yank myself away from his grip before he sucks me in further. “Thanks, but no thanks,” I comment, rolling my wrist while standing in the doorway. “I just wanted to see if you wanted to come along. But I'm late, and Miki is probably waiting for me.”

“Miki? You mean Miura?” The paranoia vanishes at the sound of her name. “Why didn't you say so?” he continues, smacking me on the shoulder. “She's one of my top agents. You'll be in good hands.”

“Uh... I'm sorry, what?”

He waves his hands in front of his chest. “I've said too much. I need to get ready for the potential invasion.”

Before I can answer, he slams the door in my face. Well, I guess that answers that question.

- - - -

The school grounds are packed with people, their voices overlapping with each other as I weave through the crowd. I glance at my watch: 12:04pm. Dammit, I'm already late. She's not gonna let me live this down, is she?

Speaking of which, what stand is she at? She mentioned something about working fundraising for the track team...

“Well, well, well.” I recognize that voice. Feminine, cryptic. “If it isn't Mr. Nakai.” I turn my head, greeted by the enigma herself, her silver braid laying across her left shoulder. “Surprised to see you here.”

“I could say the same thing, you know,” I reply.

She smirks. “Touché. I assume you're looking for Miki?”

“Yeah, do you know where she is?”

She points me down one of the aisles of stands. “That way. Can't miss it.”

“Thanks.” I start taking off, before a stray thought hits me. She isn't following. “You coming along?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “I'm just here because it's diverting. But sure.” She seems rather anti-social, for the most part. I wonder if she has any real friends outside of Miki? Or if she even considers Miki a friend?

We head down the row of booths, admiring some of the handiwork and games being played. I mutter, “They put a lot of work into these, huh?”

“Usually,” Rika answers. “Some of the clubs spend all year on them. I know the council works itself to the bone to get things done.”

“I can see that,” I comment. “Shizune and Misha seem the type to get people moving.”

“You mean get themselves moving,” she quickly responds. I give her a confused look, which she catches from her peripheral. “They are the council. No one else is on it.”

I have to admit, I suspected it. Glad to have some confirmation. “There a story behind that?”

She shrugs again. “Needless drama. It's not important.” Fair enough, I suppose.

The track team's stand is close to the end of the aisle. And rather barren, by the looks of it. I can see one customer leaving, no others in line. One of the male members is manning the front counter, leaning over the surface with his arms folded for support. “Afternoon, you two,” he greets. His Japanese is rough, almost forced. A transfer student, maybe? “What can I get for you?”

“Hey, Azazel,” Rika replies. “Is Miki around?”

“What do you take me for?” another voice answers. Miki appears from behind a row of rice cookers. “Some kind of slacker?”

Rika sees an opportunity and seizes it. “Well, there was that one time...” Miki's death glare interrupts her thought process, just before they both burst into laughter.

I feel left out. “Am I missing something?”

“Tell you later, handsome,” she replies from across the counter. ...Handsome? I have to admit, I'm a little flattered by that. “Also, Rika? Thought this wasn't really your cup of tea.”

Rika folds her arms across her chest. “Well, I had to help knucklehead over here figure out where you were.”

“That so?” she responds with a trademark wink. “Well, let me grab my stuff and we'll head out.”

She wanders off to collect her belongings. I turn to Rika, “Where are we going, exactly?”

“Hell if I know. You dragged me into this.”

Good point. Cupping my hands around my mouth, I shout, “Hey, Miki! What's the plan?”

She wraps around from the back of the small stand, carrying the same messenger bag from yesterday. “Nothing major. We're meeting up with some of the others from class in the downtown park. Lunch, hanging out... that kinda stuff. And the fireworks later on.” Fireworks? I didn't know that would be happening. Color me interested.

I shove my hands in my pockets. “What happened to touring the festival?”

She chuckles. “One thing you should know about me: nothing is ever set in stone.” With that, she grabs my wrist, pulling me forward. “Now c'mon, you two. Last one to the park eats dirt!”

- - - -

The park is crowded with a good number of students. There are quite a few of them in standard athletic gear, engaged in a friendly game of football. We decided to stop at the same corner restaurant as yesterday, picking up a few sandwiches for our lunch. Our party of three claims a spot in the grass, just outside the game's field boundaries.

Rika's spot lies in the shade. “I'm not much of a sun person,” she comments. “Pale skin. I prefer not burning to a crisp.”

“That bad, huh?” I ask. She frowns, her eyebrows flat on her forehead. I'll take that as a yes.

We sit in silence, devouring our sandwiches. Rika eats surprisingly quickly, even faster than Miki. It isn't long after she finishes her lunch that she stands. “Sorry to run,” she remarks, “but I'm gonna head back. Too many people for my taste.”

I move to protest, but she's already walking away before I can say anything. “Is she always that way?” I ask Miki.

She takes a final bite of her sandwich, covering her mouth as she speaks between chews. “Kind of. She's always been a bit anti-social.” Finally, she swallows her mouthful. “Friendly, but definitely not a people person.”

“That's definitely the vibe I'm getting.”

“Don't worry about it,” she continues. “Just have fun for now.” Easier said than done. I tend to worry about people. Sometimes I wonder why; it's probably just a reflex.

A football rolls up to us. Miki stands from her seat on the ground, presumably to toss it back to the players. However, it looks like they've already picked up another ball to play with, as they've started passing back and forth, going through strategic positioning and trying to set up scoring attempts.

Miki drops the ball on the ground, kicking it around in circles. I ask, “You like sports, don't you?”

She laughs, light and airy. “What was your first clue? Basically my entire life.”

She continues rolling the ball back and forth on the ground, rustling up strands of grass in the motions. My eyes follow its movements, tracing out the path carved by the drifting sphere. “You play?” I hear her ask. She must have noticed me watching so closely and assumed I was interested.

“I played in high school, but never anything serious.” I fall back on the ground, using my hands to support my own weight. My gaze turns upward, toward an open, blue sky. Nary a cloud overhead, nor any to the west. From the looks of things, it's going to be a beautiful night. “We - my friends and I - just played together after school.”

The arch of her foot cups the top of the ball, locking it in place. “So why don't you play, then? It's not like anyone here cares how good you are.”

My chuckle carries an almost condescending tone. “My condition's a lot more serious than that.” The way she looks at me is odd. Her eyes are piercing, almost questioning why I would think that way. I notice one of the boys playing take a dive into the grass. “See him?” I continue, motioning to the group helping him up. “I can't take a fall like that. Too risky. Running is fine, but getting hit in the chest is just asking for it.”

She smiles. Funny, that's not a reaction that I would expect from that kind of statement. “Well, at least you know your limits.” She kicks the ball over between my legs, taking a seat next to me. “That's a good thing. It means you won't get yourself killed by being stupid.” Something tells me that she's talking about Rika not knowing her limits. “Still, you should always push yourself. Limits are just a weakness to overcome.”

“Hm. I guess that's one way to look at it.” It makes me wonder what kind of limits she's had to work around with her injury. She mentioned wrestling early yesterday. Was she the athletic type? Given how she reacted yesterday when I asked her about how she got here, though... I can imagine that being a touchy subject. I'll call a rain check on that one.

I lurch forward, bringing my forearms to rest on my knees. Watching the guys run back and forth, dribbling and passing the ball... it's all so nostalgic. “I guess,” I wonder aloud, “you don't really know what you have until it's gone.”

The sound of stirring grass rustles through the air. Miki stands over me, hand extended in a simple offer. “Come on,” she says. “Let's get back in on the celebration.” I willingly accept, letting her pull me to my feet.

Out of nowhere, a dull force smacks the side of my head. I look down, a standard black-and-white football rolling innocently near my feet. Up ahead, one of the guys playing attempts to wave me down. With a solid kick, I send it back to its owner, at least for another round of passing.

Something nudges at my elbow. Still prodding, Miki asks, “Why don't we see if they want to take two more?”

I laugh to myself. “Think they'll go easy on the boy with a heart problem?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “That's up to them.” She starts walking toward the group, both good and bad hands on the back of her head. “Or you can just look at it like another challenge. That's up to you.”

As enticing as bettering myself sounds, I'm going to err on the side of caution this time. Sorry, Miki. Yesterday showed me what happens when I push the mold a bit too far: the unexpected. It might be a while before I'm really willing to step outside my bounds like that again. “I'll just stick to some passing games, I think.”

“Suit yourself.” She hounds down a few of the people not already playing, and we fetch another ball. We end up playing some variant of an icebreaker game. Pass the ball to a random person, then ask them a question, and they have to answer it. I get the sense that this is mostly for my benefit. Everyone else here should know each rather well by now, right?

Some of the questions are weird. One of them I recognize as Azazel, the exchange student working the track team's booth earlier today. He definitely asks the weirdest ones, though that might just be a cross-culture thing.

The hours pass, filled with other games and socializing. I'm actually growing to like this place, to be honest. Before I know it, the sun has set, and darkness has fallen on the town. Plentiful stars light up the sky, shimmering in greater numbers than I've ever seen before. It's a testament to just how removed from the city life this place is. We always considered ourselves lucky to see a few stars in my hometown.

It's closing in on 8pm. Soon enough, the fireworks should be starting. We decide to stop playing our game, and I reclaim my old seat in the grass. As I expect, Miki joins me in the stargazing. It's amusing how cliché this is, sitting under the stars with some girl, just existing with her like something out of a cheesy romance comedy.

“Hey, Miki,” I say to the girl sitting next to me, hunched over with forearms on her knees. “Just how good are these fireworks of yours?”

She shrugs. “Can't say. This is my first festival here.” Her first festival? Has she not been here very long?

“Really?” I respond. “So you're a recent transfer, then?” I think about what that would mean. It would confirm the recency of her injury. Or at least hint at it. I still don't know how long she might have spent at her old school before transferring.

“Yeah. Mid-December, last year.” So before I had my attack in February. I feel like I want to learn more about her, like there are so many more things I can figure out.

I start to ask her more questions, but the first explosion ignites in the sky, filling it with a gush of color and flame. “It's starting!” she cries exuberantly. She sits up straight, legs crossed and hands in her lap. The next firework rockets upward, joining in the symphony of light. The sulfuric remnants fall from above in a dance of reds, greens, and blues. Each burst spreads illumination across the park, leaving a glow on our faces.

“Incredible,” she whispers, “isn't it?”

I turn my head to look straight at her, admiring the swirling mixture of color on her skin. The glimmer in her eyes perfectly reflects both her wonder at the sight and the explosions themselves. “Yeah...,” I reply, awestruck at just how beautiful she looks right now. I don't know how I never noticed it before. “Pretty amazing.”

She glances over at me. I catch her eyes moving, turning my attention back to the sky before she sees me staring at her. My face feels hot, cheeks engorged with blood. Here's to hoping that she can't quite see that in the dark of the night.

“You're pretty easy to embarass, huh?” Dammit. Foiled again.

I do her the grace of an awkwardly playful smile. “Sometimes.”

Another firework shoots up and explodes, its contents drooping from a nexus, almost like a willow tree. “Those are my favorite,” Miki proclaims. “Up into the sky, falling away from the center back down to the ground. Going back to where you came from.” Philosophical? I never imagined that coming from her. “And I always liked willow trees. It's like nature wrapping its arms around you, isolated from the troubles of the world.”

“That's pretty deep, coming from you,” I remark, poking fun at her.

“What, you think I'm just some dumb jock?” she retorts. “There's more than meets the eye, you know. Try to look beneath the surface. You never know what you might find.”

“Don't judge a book by it's cover?” She only nods. I continue, “And you're saying that - beneath this eccentric shell of a girl - there's something very different?”

A light chuckle comes from her side, approaching a giggle. “You don't even know the half of it. But, for now, let's just enjoy the show. Another story for another day.”

Be careful what you promise, Miki. I'll hold you to that.

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That's all for now, we're up to date with the pastebin. I'll be out of town and mostly offline this weekend, but should have a few more scenes for the start of Act 2 come Monday. Cheers, everyone!

“Miki? You mean Miura?” The paranoia vanishes at the sound of her name. “Why didn't you say so?” he continues, smacking me on the shoulder. “She's one of my top agents. You'll be in good hands.”

That was... unexpected. Congratulations, you gave that scene a unique twist.

Oh, and I think Miki already mentioned the time she transfered to Yamaku in an earlier chapter.

I've really looked in a mirror maybe a handful of times since the accident.

I don't know if its just me or not, but I feel like that 'really' doesn't need to be there. I also believe that Mirage is right about Miki mentioning when she came to Yamaku.

Otherwise, great story! A Miki route has been a long time coming, and so far I'm loving yours.

Update. Ignore the fact that it's been almost a whole month.

Act 2-1: Friends and Perspective
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Have I ever mentioned how much I hate Mondays? The fact that I'm not a morning person combined with my tendency to sleep in on the previous day makes for a very... sub-par experience. More often than not, I end up walking into class groggy and exhausted, kicking myself for my lack of sleep and begging for the last bell of the day to finally ring.

Mutou seems about as thrilled as I am. Dragging his feet behind him, he makes his way into the classroom, slamming a pile of books on his desk. The skin beneath his eyes looks droopier than usual, the gray in his hair more defined and easily noticeable. From the looks of things, he had a little too much fun at the festival after-party.

With a groan similar to the one from Saturday, he takes his cue at the board, writing out the basis of his daily lesson plan. Students pull out their notebooks, getting to work with copying down formulas and definitions as the lecture begins. I tend to only take notes on the absolute basics, then figuring out the details later. As tired as I am, though, I resolve to write as much as possible, just to keep myself awake and occupied.

"Psst." A mild diversion as Mutou continues his lesson. I don't quite catch the direction it comes from, so I flail my head back and forth, trying to find the source. "Psst." There it is again. I look straight ahead, noticing the girl in front of me waving a small fold of paper below desk level. I glance over at Shizune, just to confirm that she's paying too much attention to the board to catch me in the act. Sure enough, she is, and I claim the slip for myself.

I move to unfold it quietly, just to avoid drawing unnecessary attention. Letting the expanded paper sit in my lap, I read the message, which is inscribed in very elegant, almost mechanical handwriting.

Miki wants to know if you want lunch after this.
-- Molly

Why would Miki go through the trouble of asking someone else to relay a message? She seems a little too direct for that. Nevertheless, I write my response on the sheet, refolding the note quickly and quietly. Now, how to get it back to her? Whatever I do isn't going to be particularly sneaky, so I might as well just wait for Mutou to turn his back and slip it over Molly's shoulder.

...there. I lean forward across my desk, letting the note slide down her torso and into her lap. The task is made more difficult by her hunched posture over her notebook. As I fall back into my seat, I catch Shizune glaring at me. Our eyes connect, and all I can manage is a shrug. She responds with a shake of her head and goes back to her work.

Mutou continues to drone on with his lecture. Thankfully, I'm able to catch and absorb most of it. When he finishes a train of thought in the lesson, he turns to the class, picking up a stack of papers from his desk. “Alright, class,” he announces. “Let's split into teams for a quick assignment.”

The desks start rearranging themselves, students moving around into their preferred groups. Miki gathers with two of the other girls in the front row. Funny, I remember her saying she preferred hanging out with guys at some point. Molly is one of the two, and I think the other is Suzuki. Hard to remember names, sometimes. Everyone else has to learn one when I have to learn so many more.

I move to join their group of three, but a certain interpreter cuts me off. “Hicchan, you're with us~, right?” Misha and Shizune already have their desks pushed together in a formation that leaves room for a third. I'd rather keep moving forward with my friendship with Miki, but I guess I can't say no to the Student Council without a prior engagement.

“Uh... sure,” I answer weakly, pulling my desk over to theirs. Mutou passes out the assignment sheets, and Shizune quickly claims the role of scribe. The work is pretty straight-forward, just a few simple problems dealing with the core concepts. I'm eager to get my portion done, if only to minimize my interaction with these two. I've grown to find Misha's enthusiasm almost annoying, at times.

“Hicchan~.” She keeps her voice low, close to a whisper. “Did you enjoy the festival?”

I glance up from my work. “Yeah,” I reply. It feels rather cold in its brevity. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, we didn't see you around the booths.” True, I didn't spend much time at the actual festival. I was basically just meeting up with Miki to head downtown. Even then, I was mostly there just for Miki. I should probably expand my horizons more. Maybe I can do that at lunch today. “I just wanted to make sure you saw everything~!”

“I didn't see much of the festival, really.” Not exactly by choice. “Miki, Rika, and I ended up downtown with a decently sized group of people.”

Misha's grin turns from her natural smile to one of intrigue. “Oh, is that so~?” She folds her arms across her chest. “Already chasing after our class track star, hmm?”

“I don't know about that. We're just friends.” My speech speeds up. The persistence of her smile tells me that she doesn't quite buy it. “Really! Just. Friends.”

She tilts her head downward keeping her gaze locked on me, as if she wants to look condescending. That “you're spouting a bunch of nonsense” kind of look. “Whatever you say, Hicchan~!” she finishes, rolling her eyes as she goes back to her work. “But, if you ask me, people might be... sus-pi-cious~.” A faint giggle rolls through her lips, and she keeps that same teasing smile on her face.

I decide to shrug it off for now. Miki's definitely an interesting person, not to mention attractive... I wouldn't mind getting to know her better, given the chance. There were a few things she said at the festival that only made me curious...

“You don’t even know the half of it... Another story for another day.”

What on earth did she mean by that? Was just trying to be mysterious? I honestly don't know. ...yeah, I guess you could say that I have a crush on her. Or at least have some inkling of an attachment to her already. But why worry about it right now? There are more important things to focus on. Like this classwork.

We finish our assignment relatively quickly and part ways. Everyone else follows in turn, handing in their submissions to an instructor preoccupied with reading through the papers. I stay at my desk, fiddling with a pencil as Mutou sits up straight in his chair. He opens his mouth to speak... before the lunch dismissal bell interrupts him.

Students clamor to be among the first to the cafeteria, our teacher attempting to be heard over the din of adolescent voices. He pinches at the corners of his eyes while the students leave, sighing heavily.

I'm the last one to leave. Mutou catches me before I make it to the door. “Nakai,” he says, “mind sticking around for a minute?”

I whip around from the doorway, watching my teacher stack the papers against his desk before slipping them into his bag. “Uh... yeah, sure,” I reply. “But can we make it quick? I'm meeting someone for lunch.”

His eyebrow arches, and he cracks a weak smile. “Ah, good. I was worried you weren't making any friends there for a while.”

I'm not quite sure how to respond, honestly. “What makes you say that?”

He chuckles, barely audibly. “Nakai, when you've been in this business as long as I have, you learn that new students have the hardest time, socially.” Mutou slings his bag over his shoulder; he must be going out for lunch. “You didn't really show any interaction with anyone outside of Mikado and Hakamichi.” He leans back against his desk, hands planted against the edge. For a teacher, he doesn't seem very uptight... or at least not too concerned for professionalism. “So... who are these new friends of yours?” He sounds almost like a parent right now. I'm not sure if that's what he's going for, but it's definitely working.

I move to try and end the conversation as quickly as I can. “Miura, and Katayama, too, I guess.” One of those will have my head if I'm any slower.

Mutou jerks backward, shaking his head violently. “Really? I didn't see the two of you clicking that well.”

I shrug. “What happens happens, I suppose.”

He nods, grunting approvingly. “Anyways, I won't keep you. Head along to lunch, and I'll see you after.”

I thank him quickly, darting out into the hallway. Rounding the corner, something jerks at my collar, bringing me to a screeching halt. “Not so fast, buster,” a familiar voice utters. “In a rush? There's no need to be, we're right here.”

We? As I suspected, Miki is behind stopping me mid-stride. However, she's accompanied by another. I recognize her as the girl who sits next to Miki in class, the one who always looks about halfway lulled to sleep. What was her name? I can't remember for the life of me. “Um... sorry about that,” I stammer, rubbing the back of my head. “Mutou kept me.”

Miki puts her hands on her hips, face scowling. “Of course he did. And you kept two lovely ladies waiting on your sorry butt!”

I wave my hands in front of my chest. “No, no, that's not it at all!” Step by step, I inch backward, just to create some distance should... something happen. “Just let me explain!”

She maintains a stern expression, standing her ground firmly. It's rather awkward being so dominated by a girl around ten or fifteen centimeters shorter than me. But she has talked about wrestling in the past, so she has to be deceptively strong for her size, right? I would think so.

The frown cracks for a moment, and she bursts into a fit of laughter. I let my guard down, thinking that the worst is over. In between chuckles, she manages to say, “Almost had you there for a second, didn't I?”

A deep sigh escapes my lips. “Warn me next time!” I berate.

“But that's half the fun!” she replies, wiping a teardrop from her eye.

Her companion steps forward. “Geez, Miki, you almost gave the poor guy a heart attack.” Wait, does she...? “Nakai, right?” she continues. “I'm Suzuki. But Suzu works. Either one. 'A rose by any other name' and all that stuff.” She extends a hand, her lips curled into an almost sarcastic smile, and I except her offer, taking the greeting for what it's worth.

“Uh... yeah,” I say, still a bit offset by her random comment about having a heart attack. She couldn't know. She shouldn't know. There's no reason she could ever suspect that. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Right,” she replies, turning back to a calmer Miki. “Now that we're all acquainted, can we please go to lunch? I'm starving, and I'd rather not go into Richard Pine mode. I don't think you'd appreciate that either.”

...the hell is that supposed to mean?

Miki rolls her eyes, clearly dissatisfied with Suzu's attempt at stifling her fun. “Alright, alright. Have it your way.”

Our walk down to the cafeteria consists of talking, Miki cracking jokes about other classmates, and Suzu and I getting to know each other better. She's part of the literature club - that explains the earlier random Shakespeare quote - and mostly sticks with 'the M & Ms,' as she called them. Actually, that reminds me...

“Where's Molly?” I ask. “She passed the note to me, I thought she'd be here.”

Miki shrugs. “Probably somewhere with Florian,” she answers. “She tends to hang out with him, when she gets the chance.”

“Well... is anyone else joining us?”

“Supposedly,” Suzu starts, “Takeshi and Lelouch. I've learned not to expect much from them, though.” That bad, huh?

Miki spins in front of us, walking backwards down the last hallway to the cafeteria. “Speaking of social outings,” she says, eyeing me, in particular. “You're coming to the track meet here in a few weeks, right?”

Here she goes again, giving me the false pretense of having a choice in the matter. “Perhaps,” I answer playfully. “And if I say no?”

“Not in your best interest,” she replies, wagging her finger at me. “Don't forget, I know where you sleep.”

I feel a nudging from my right. Suzu's elbow digs into my arm, trying to get my attention. “Don't pay her any mind,” she claims. “She pulls that on everyone.” Miki glares at her, as if her dark eyes could pierce through Suzu's tiny frame. Air erupts from her nostrils, her blood boiling beneath her skin. Suzu responds with a stuck-out tongue. “You're too easy to frustrate, you know.”

Miki spins around, arms folded across her chest and nose turned toward the ceiling. “Fine, be that way,” she declares, walking ahead without us at a quickening pace.

I must look concerned, at least to Suzu, given her reaction. “Like I said, don't worry about her. We do that quite a bit.”

I arch my eyebrow, frowning slightly. “What, pick on each other?”

She giggles, holding her hands behind her back. “You don't know much about close friends, do you?”

Ouch, that digs a little deep. She's right, though; I didn't have many close friends at my old school. Or, I might have, but definitely not after my heart attack. “No, I guess not,” I say solemnly. “Maybe that's a good thing, makes it easier to find a place here. I don't have to worry about how they're doing or whatever.”

She lays her hand on my shoulder. “Hey,” she interrupts, “no need to get all philosophical on me. We just met not five minutes ago.”

I shove away the memories for now. “Yeah, you're probably right.” I turn to her, grinning. “Focus on the now, right?” She laughs again, instantly turning my smile into a frown. “What's so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing,” she replies, waving a hand at me. “That just sounds very Miki of you.” I suppose I should take that as a compliment, huh? I wouldn't mind being more like her: strong, confident, ready to face the world at a moment's notice. I might resolve to be more like her, then. If anything, it's a good enough outlook for now. “You should come, though,” Suzu continues. “To the track meet, I mean. It'll be fun.”

The smile returns. It's good to hear someone else so willing to let me into their world. “I just might. Let's worry about finding our lunchmate for now, though.”

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Comments and criticism, etc.

AWH SWEET, AN UPDATE!

Uhh...right then.

Regarding Suzu, twas that perhaps a sneaky little reference with the whole quoting Shakespeare thing? ;3
meh, probably isnt, but thought i would ask

She tilts her head downward keeping her gaze locked on me, as if she wants to look condescending. That “you're spouting a bunch of nonsense” kind of look. “Whatever you say, Hicchan~!” she finishes, rolling her eyes as she goes back to her work. “But, if you ask me, people might be... sus-pi-cious~.” A faint giggle rolls through her lips, and she keeps that same teasing smile on her face.

I love your Misha dialogue by the way, you definitely have got the hang of her. And I'm liking Miki's personality so far, should be interesting to see you continue to develop her character.

Dude, I am loving this Story and I love the way you made Miki's character, Please continue this, I know you might be busy but this is an amazing story and I'd hate to see it just fade away.

Holy crap it's been over a month. Have two scenes to make up for it.

Act 2-2: Self-Discovery
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The rest of the day passes in tranquility, undisturbed by the ramblings of the Student Council, or any other students, for that matter. Lunch went about as I expected: Miki and Suzu's “friends” didn't show up, leaving me alone to chat with the ladies. I'm not certain I would enjoy their company, anyways. From what rumors I've heard, Takeshi can be a bit of an ass, and Lelouch doesn't do much to suppress him. Not that I'm falling prey to the gossip brigade or anything.

Suzu talked surprisingly little. She seems more like the modest type, preferring to sit back and analyze the situation from afar. I'm not sure why I expected any different, given her membership with the literature club. She tried her best to get me to join, after finding out how much I had read. I politely declined, claiming that it was more a hobby than a real passion. And it was. Just something to pass the time during my stay at the hospital. I can't remember the last time I read anything seriously.

Miki supported my decision, boldly proclaiming her distaste for all things academic. I expected little else, to be honest. As nice as she is, she never seemed to be the studious type; on the contrary, exuberance and a rebellious nature practically oozed from her pores. Admirable, to some extent. It helped her take each day in stride, something I grew increasingly jealous of.

Out of the blue, she asked me the question on our way back to class. “You're coming to the track meet in a couple weeks, right?” There it is again, only making it seem like I have a choice. She'd beat me to a pulp if I said no.

“Uh... yeah, I suppose so,” I answer. “When is it again?”

She taps her chin, counting on her fingertips. Her eyes brightened soon after. “Two weeks from yesterday. If I remember right. Today's the 11th, yeah?”

I check my watch, noting the small date indicator next to the 3 o'clock marker. “Yep, right on the mark,” I respond.

“Awesome, I was right,” she says affirmatively.

Suzu doesn't hesitate at the chance to pick on her. “Doubt? That's a bit odd, coming from you.” Maybe not exactly picking on her, but something close enough.

She winks, mouth slightly open in a snarky grin. “Never a doubt, just have to make sure the universe is right for once.”

We waltz into the classroom, taking our seats at our respective desks. Miki grabs at my arm before I manage much farther than her station. “Hey,” she interjects, “running. Today. 15:30 sharp.”

Wait. “15:30? I thought it was at 20:00? That's what Rika told me.”

“Change of plans. I'm making you two my warm-up for track practice. Your ass at the track. Or else.” If I didn't know better, I'd consider that a death threat. “I mean it this time,” she continues, clutching the collar of my shirt. Okay, maybe still a death threat.

“...and if I don't?” I say half-heartedly. Of course I'll show up; from what I've seen of her, the last place I want to be is on her bad side.

She doesn't answer, electing to shoot me a devilish smile, release my collar, and take her seat. I'm left puzzled by her intentions, curious as to just what she has in store for me should I fail to follow through on my promise to run with her. ...bad thoughts, bad thoughts, let's push those away for now.

Mutou strides into the classroom, re-assuming his position at the board. The class pulls out their notebooks, clicks open their pens, and starts to copy down the notes of his continued lecture.

- - - - -

Class goes about as slowly as one would expect. I managed to keep myself awake for the majority, only dozing into dreamland once, maybe twice. Okay, a few times. Given Mutou's common tone of voice - a low, melancholy drone - it's pretty easy.

I throw my notebooks into my bag quickly. The dismissal bell rings at 15:00 on the dot. If I'm going to head back to the dorms, change, and make it to the track before 15:30, I'll need to hustle. And that means no interruptions, no stops to chit-chat, no distractions of any sort.

Of course, the Student Council will have none of that.

“Going somewhere, Hicchan~?” Misha asks, fists resting on her hips proudly. “Why in such a hurry? School just ended!”

I'm not really in the mood right now, thanks. “Sorry, gotta run, have to be at the track soon!” I rush past her so quickly that it feels like I should be leaving a sonic boom in my wake. Heh, maybe I can be the next track star.

Weaving through the crowd of students trying to muscle their way out of the hallways proves difficult. I try my best to be polite, but you can only be so kind when you're literally running through a mob and shoving people out of the way just to minimize injuries. I think I gave up on the niceties after the fifth or sixth person I had to move out of my path.

Once I managed to find my way outside, my progress felt much less impeded. The expanses of the open air proved much easier to navigate in a hurry. With barely anyone left standing in my way, I'm able to make it to my room quickly. My heart leaps in my chest, protesting against my sudden burst of activity. I have to admit, running right before your first track session with a new coach wasn't the brightest idea... Well, guess I'll just have to push it a little harder for once.

I quickly change out of my uniform and into a pair of track shorts, running shoes, and a plain white t-shirt. Gathering a water bottle, a neck-towel, and my phone into a small duffel bag, I head back out the door. My watch declares 15:15, so I don't have much time left to make it to the track. Well, looks like I'm still booking it.

The journey to the track is brief, especially considering my pace. Miki and Rika are already there, changed into the school's black running shorts and red-trimmed v-necks. They're going through a few stretching routines; Miki is bent over with her hands touching the ground, feet spread wide on the ground, and Rika is seated in a butterfly position, pulling her ankles into her groin.

The former notices me on one of her repeated rise-and-fall numbers. “There's our favorite slacker!” she exclaims, rising from her stretching position and placing a hand on her hip. Well, her only hand, at least. I keep forgetting about that. It's honestly rather subtle, given how she acts about it. Which is to say not at all. You honestly can't tell the difference. She continues in a deriding tone, “It's about time you showed up.”

I glance down at my watch, tossing my bag on the bleachers. “I've got 15:29. I'm early.”

She rushes over to the bleachers, pulling a small phone out of her bag. Flipping it open, she checks the displayed time. “Yeah, well I have 15:31,” she declares, snapping it shut. “And I'm the one in charge around here, so you're late.”

I raise my finger matter-of-factly, looking to argue, but Rika cuts me off. Her pale hand grips my wrist from behind, forcing it back to my side. “Better not to,” she says, lifting her ankle up to her rear. “Just take your stripes and go with it. She's too stubborn to bother arguing with.”

Miki folds her arms, her lower lip curling into a pout. It's almost a look of resignation, conceding the point to Rika and admitting it as truth. Of course, I'm too eager to argue. “But it's hardly fair!” I protest, ripping my arm away from Rika's grip. My attention turns back to our running coach. “I'm only a minute late, what's so bad about that?”

She's a bit shorter than I am, but never hesitates to show me just how little that matters. She asserts herself, standing on her toes and pressing her face mere inches away from mine, wrists curled against her hips. You know, if it weren't for the situation, I would probably be incredibly turned on by just how close she is to me. She presses her index finger into my chest, right against my sternum. “Look, mister, if you have a problem with the authority around here, then you'll have to prove yourself.” Her finger pushes into me a few more times, just to make her point clear.

“Prove myself?” I ask. I look at Rika, thinking she might have an answer. The ghost of a girl only shrugs, going back to her stretches.

“A race,” Miki replies. “Beat me and you can do what you want. Lose and we go back to the way things are: mine.”

Part of me wants to take her up on the challenge, just to match her fearlessness. But getting into a sprinting match with a member of the track team seems like asking for more trouble than it's worth. I already learned my lesson with Emi, and Miki's quite a bit taller - and probably faster - than her. As hard-headed as I might want to be, I'm not stupid. I hang my head down low, sighing deeply. “Yes, ma'am.”

Content with the victory laid at her feet, she grins cheekily. “That's what I thought. Now, privates, give me a good half-mile to start off with!”

Rika and I take our positions at the starting line. Half a mile... that's two laps, right? Should be easy. We take off from the line; my partner sets a demanding pace, and I feel an urge to keep up with her. But my legs aren't moving like they should be, heavy as lead from my earlier efforts to make it on time.

By the time I round the second corner the first time, it already feels like I've been running for half an hour. To be fair, I basically have. The third corner is not any easier, nor is the fourth. My breathing intensifies, and that clutching sensation in my chest returns. As I hit the first corner on the second lap, my knees start to give way. I slow to a crawling pace, realizing that I could fall if I keep going.

The sound of pounding footsteps rings in my ears. “Having a bit of trouble?” I look up, hands on my knees, seeing Miki jogging in place at my side.

I elect to just tell her the truth. “Yeah, just... exhausted. I-”

“Exhausted?” she interrupts. “It's only a half-mile, and you're barely half-done!”

“No, no, just... had to run... to get here on time.” I crack a smile, a feeble attempt at easing whatever tension hangs in the air. “Just running on empty.”

The frown painted on her face illustrates disappointment. “So push it into second gear, numbskull.” I only stare at her, bewildered at her sudden display of ferocity and militaristic encouragement. “You're never going to get anywhere if you just fall over at the first sign of defeat.” She points a finger in the direction of the track, chin held high. “Now push it. Push it hard. Find your strength.”

I rise off my knees, taking in a deep breath. My legs still feel naturally drawn to the ground, but I think I can make it further. The first step is harder than the last one; I dig deeper, looking for that strength she's talking about.

It doesn't take long. What feels like an eternity of delving deeper into myself turns into a split second of physical activity: my joints churn and creak, slowly but surely into something resembling movement. I up my pace into a steady jog, crawling along the track and rounding the second corner.

Miki catches up to me, not leaving my side. “See?” she says. “You can't improve if you don't push your limits.”

“I... I guess,” I respond between breaths. “Isn't that... dangerous, though?”

“It's how I taught Rika. It's how I'll teach you.” She turns her face back straight ahead, eyes directly forward. “C'mon, we've got a long way to go.”

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There's actually no Miki in this one.

Act 2-3: Truancy
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The sun creeps into my room, rays of light peeking their way through my open curtains. I crawl out of bed, dragging my feet across the carpet floor and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. Clenching one of the long sheets of fabric, I shut out the light. A faint sound of birds chirping manages to weasel its way through the glass panes.

Somehow, I think to check the clock before laying back down. The panes flash '10:57.'

Wait...

My eyes shoot open, realizing that I'm late to class. Shit, I don't even have time to shower or get ready or anything. It's almost 11... might be better to just take my time and sneak in after lunch. Mutou will ask where I've been, but he has to understand me oversleeping, right? He was a teenager once, he'll see where I'm coming from.

I throw on the nearest uniform I can, not caring if it's perfectly clean. My hair is long enough to just shake it around a few times and it'll fall into place, so I don't bother running a comb through it. I take a quick glance in the mirror, verifying that I look at least something close to presentable. The skin beneath my eyes is still a darker tone, but that's only going to be fixed with time.

After making sure my backpack has all my stuff still inside from yesterday, I decide I could use a bit of fresh air to calm my nerves before walking in late to class. I don't know what the reaction will be, so I'd rather be as easy-going as possible about it. Breathe, Hisao, breathe. It's your first time being late, at worst you'll get away with a warning. Still... I'm worried. Call me paranoid.

I turn my mind to other thoughts while walking down the stairs to the lobby. Another way to cope, I suppose. I still haven't really found an extracurricular, and running with Miki and Rika after school doesn't really count. At least, I'm assuming medical necessities don't count. It would be like saying that popping pills or seeing a shrink is an extracurricular activity. Though the first one probably could be....

Unsurprisingly, no one is downstairs. I don't know why anyone would be, given that class is in session. I trudge through the barren common rooms and lobby. Thankfully, the desk clerk doesn't seem to notice me. One less embarrassment I have to go through today.

At least it's nice outside. A pale blue sky, dotted with puffy clouds, a nice breeze... one perk to being late is that I get to enjoy the scenery while everyone else is stuck inside. Maybe this isn't such a bad thing after all. My eyes wander, treated to the lush greenery of my new school's grounds. I don't know why I never noticed just how beautiful the campus is, littered with trees and flowerbeds. I guess the only time I ever really focused on it was in my catatonic state when I first arrived.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” A familiar voice rings out from the tree branches overhead. I look up, greeted by a ghastly figure seated amongst the swaying leaves. If the white hair didn't give it away, the striking red eyes certainly do. “You should see it in the spring,” Rika continues. “Flowers everywhere. Cherry blossoms. New beginnings.”

Is she talking nonsense? Hard to tell, honestly. “Far be it from me to interrupt your musing, but... just what are you doing up there?”

With a quick readiness check and a single sway back and forth, Rika leaps from the branch and down onto the ground, landing with a short grunt. “I like climbing trees,” she answers after rising to her feet.

Well, obviously. “I meant what are you doing out here, not in class?”

“Same thing you're doing.” Which is...? The arch in my brow seems to relay that question. “Skipping.”

My expression turns cold, stern. “I'm not skipping,” I retort. “I just overslept.”

“Riiiiiight,” she coos, walking past me with hands behind her head. “And that's exactly why you're out here, talking to me, and not rushing to class.” I open my mouth to protest, but the words don't come. She chuckles lightly. “Yeah, that's what I thought.”

“And why are you skipping?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “Just something I do every now and then when class gets boring.” She turns her head back to me, crimson irises boring into my soul. “I'm going into town. You should join me.”

I blink my eyes rapidly, trying to pick apart what she just said. “So, let me get this straight. I'm already behind, and you're suggesting that I just not go to class today?” She nods, a gentle smile on her lips. “And why on earth would I do that?”

“You're already counted absent for the day, might as well take advantage of it.” Rika holds her hands behind her back, gripping them together at the small of her back. “What's life without a little adventure?”

I shake my head, disgusted with her suggestion. “Look,” I say, “that's all fine and dandy, but we have a responsibility as students.”

She scoffs. “Responsibility is overrated. All I'm asking for is a friend to go on a walk with me.”

I'm not going to convince her, am I? Not to mention that I'm far too weak-willed to go back to school when given an alternative this late in the day. I look back at my dorm, then toward the main building, making sure no one is around. It can't be past 11:30, there's no way anyone would be outside right now. “Alright,” I say quickly, so I can't convince myself otherwise. “I'll go.”

She spins around on her heel, suddenly bursting with much more energy. “That's the spirit.” Her legs move in a strut, prancing about toward the school gates. I wonder where she's taking us. She talked about going into town, but that's vague enough to mean anything. Clearly, we won't be coming back until tonight, possibly after dark. Just what will we do for all those hours?

“Hey,” I interrupt as we plod along the concrete. “What did you have in mind for our little... excursion?”

She shrugs. “Bus stop first. We'll decide when we get there.”

“You're not exactly one to plan ahead, are you?”

She smiles with a hint of mischief. “Good to see you're observant.”

From the looks of the times for the inner-city bus, we won't have to wait long, perhaps ten minutes at most. Rika doesn't speak, taking a seat on the cold bench, hands clasped between her legs. I'm not one for awkward silence, but she doesn't seem the type for small-talk, anyways. Her tendency toward curt responses at least implies that.

“You seem to have taken a liking to her.” Or maybe I'm completely wrong. “Miki, I mean.”

“Her?” I reply, taking the spot beside her and slumping forward. “Yeah, she's nice. Definitely the friendly type. Seems to care a lot about others' well-being.”

That elicits a condescending chuckle from Rika. “Only toward us, really.” She keeps her gaze aimed straight ahead, but she must be able to read my confused state through her peripheral. “She's partially responsible, if anything were to ever happen. Even if we just didn't take our medicine or something stupid like that. Maybe she worked us too hard or too little... at least, that's how she sees it.”

“And she doesn't feel that way about anyone else?” I'm genuinely curious now. It seems odd that she would be so receptive to only two individuals, especially considering how she acted when we first met. Different type of loyalty, perhaps? Only more questions.

Rika sighs, bobbing her leg against her knee. “Probably Suzu. Maybe Molly. Definitely not any of the boys.” How positively grim. She glances down the road. “Bus is here.”

“Oh, awesome,” I say. The bus pulls up to our stop, its doors opening wide. We rise from our seats on the bench. “Still, I like her. I don't think that changes what I think of her.”

As we move to step inside, I hear her whisper, “You're a stronger man than most.” That... doesn't bode well. Still, maybe Rika isn't the best person to ask about this. Maybe it's better to get it straight from the horse's mouth. Or maybe dueling perspectives? I'm not sure. Let's... let's just not worry about it right now.

I take a window seat. I spend most of our bus ride just staring past the pane, into the rushing scenery around us. Being unable to focus on anything specific makes it perfect for thinking. Rika's earlier comments ring particularly loudly. In but a moment, I was reminded just how little I know about Miki. Understandable, considering I've known her for the sum total of a few days. Still, it resonates. I want to know more about her, but not just because I don't know anything. Rather, I just... want to. It's hard to explain.

“Hey.” Rika's crackling voice pulls me away from my trance yet again. “You thought about what to do on our day off?” A cold reminder that I'm basically going on a hooky date with this girl.

“Not really, no.” Too busy with other things on my mind. “You have an idea?”

She turns straight ahead, biting her lower lip. “Maybe. Why don't we go by the theater and see what's on?”

“Sure, I'm game.” It's as good of an idea as any, I suppose.

I turn back to my window, and she leaves me to my thoughts. One that plagues me is just how much Miki has been hiding from me, if she's been hiding anything at all. I'm starting to think that... maybe she is. Is that such a bad thing, though? We've only known each other for a few days, I can't expect her to be read like a book. It's a picture that needs to be painted in its own time, a symphony to be conducted at its own pace, with our venerable track star at the helm.

Rika speaks again. “We're here. Let's go.”

We climb off the bus, finding ourselves in the heart of the inner city. This feels much more like my element: crowds of people, a din of murmurs and words as they trudge through the streets. I love everything about this, just being able to blend in and feel like part of something bigger. A deep breath fills my nostrils, escaping through my mouth. “This...,” I say, “this feels like home.”

“Like home?” my companion inquires.

“Yeah. I grew up in the city.” I look around through the mobs of people, trying to see if I recognize any landmarks. Nothing tips me off. “Hey, which way is the theater?”

Rolling her eyes, she replies, “Just follow me.” She heads off in a direction, and I do my best to keep up. She's much smaller than I am, so weaving in and out between people proves much easier for her than me. Nevertheless, I'm somehow able to keep up with her. We stagger through a few intersections, unwillingly bump into a few pedestrians, and almost get run over by an inattentive driver before finally arriving on the theater's block.

The theater rests in a large shopping center, surrounded by various specialty stores and restaurants. The theater itself isn't very big, maybe eight screens at the most. We pace in front of the banners adorning the front wall. None of them look particularly interesting. “Anything look good?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “Nope. Doesn't matter to me, just here to not be at school. Um...” She elongates the syllable, covering her eyes and aiming her finger randomly. “That one.” Her finger points at the poster for 'Knocked Up.' Interesting... an American-style comedy? Oh, God help us. “You have money?” she asks.

I rummage around in my pockets, finally producing my wallet. It looks like I have at least a little. “Yeah, why?”

“Good, because I don't.” Wait... seriously? “Guess you can consider this a date, then.” She laughs at her own joke, waltzing up to the ticket register. We order our tickets, I pay the woman, and we head inside. Thankfully, she's not in the mood for concessions; I'm honestly surprised, considering how close we are to lunchtime.

The screen-room we're slated for is barren. It actually looks like we might be the only ones here. Yeah, definitely the only ones here. With an entire theater to ourselves, we claim a pair of seats in the middle row. We have a fair amount of time before the movie starts, actually.

Rika throws her feet up onto the railing in front of our seats. “You're thinking about her, aren't you?” I swear, it's like she can read minds.

“Well... I was on the bus, does that count?” She glares at me, and I take that as a 'yes.' “Why do you ask?”

She shrugs, humming along with the movement. “Just curious. Means you actually like her.”

Is this some veiled attempt at teasing? “Yeah, she's a good friend.”

“Is she now?” She slouches into her seat, more of her back than her rear resting on the cushion. “Is that all she is?”

“Rika, please. I've known the girl for less than a week.” I smile at my newest thought. “If you're trying to play matchmaker, at least give me some time to get to know her first. You know, learn the ropes and stuff.”

She chuckles. “Fair enough.” Please tell me she didn't take that as some kind of challenge. That's the last thing I need to worry about right now.

The movie is about what I expect from your average American comedy: lots of crude humor, some actually forcing a few laughs out of us. The plot was pretty basic, just about some guy who found out his one-night-stand lover ended up pregnant. Nothing to shake a stick at, but worth the investment for an afternoon's entertainment, I guess.

We walk out of the theater, discussing our thoughts about the movie. We re-enact a few of our favorite scenes, complete with quotes and laughter. As we head toward the bus stop, Rika tugs on my sleeve. An odd gesture, coming from her; she's usually one to just speak and be listened to, not ask for attention. “Thanks for tagging along,” she says. “I mostly wanted to just talk. So... thanks for that, too.”

“No problem,” I reply. “We have to stick together, right? Watch each others' backs?”

She rolls her eyes. “If you say so.”

The bus arrives not long after. I glance at my watch: around half-past two. It'll be well past three by the time we get back to the school grounds, so it looks like a full day of hooky. A good number of people step on-board before we rise to our feet. Standing right in front of the open doorway, Rika comments, “By the way, Hisao....” She boards the bus, looking back at me with a glint in her eye. “Be careful what you wish for.”

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Why is Miki trying to kill Hisao? She does know he has a heart condition, doesn't she?

Oh, and you slipped into past tense a few times towards the beginning.

She seemed to have a handle on it; if he was in real danger I doubt she'd have forced it.

She did let him keep a slow pace, after all, rather then a quicker stride or something.

Oh, and:

“Be careful what you wish for.”

Dun dun DUN!

Lovely foreshadowing, you got me all intrigued now

I like how your two girl dynamic is Rika/Miki, as the two contrast each other and yet, compliment each other in a weirdly morbid way.

I'm really liking this so far! I hope you continue.

Hm. Not bad. Nice to see there's still activity here after being away from these forums for a while. Looking forward to more.

This is deadfic.

I haven't worked on this in two months and don't plan on continuing. It's been a hard decision, and I've had to wrestle with it for a few weeks. But I just don't feel the inspiration to write for it anymore, nor for anything KS-related. I have other ideas, I have a busy life, and I need to expand. With that, I will take my resignation.

I've already asked SC to close the thread. Have a good one, mates, and godspeed to you all.