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“Sláinte!” The hosts announce as their glasses clink into the microphone. ‘Slahn-che’ means ‘cheers’ in Irish, I think…

“Ooh! Goes down smooth!” Brian analyzes in a cheery way, only to be followed with Aaron’s wittiest comeback.

“As did yer Ma’!”

They alternate saying “Wha’?” in thick Irish accents as I snicker along to myself. A few rapid taps on my bicep brings me back to reality, and takes my attention away from the podcast in my ears, to the classroom. I pull the headphone jack out of my iPod so it stops playing and tug the wire so the headphones pop out of my ears.

“What, Lezard?” I groan, casting an annoyed look to my deskmate while hiding the headphones behind my stupid bow. He turns his nose up in the direction of the door. Mutou enters alongside an unfamiliar student. A transfer? In the third year?

“New blood. Let’s hope this one is a little less pedestrian.” His pompous drone makes me wince. He’s a right pretentious twat and I can’t believe I have to have him right next to me all the time.. Why couldn’t I get someone nice like Kyokan? Hell, I’d even take Arai. He’s a bit much but at least he doesn’t pretend to better than everyone else.

“Maybe if you took that silver spoon out your arse you wouldn’t find us all so frightfully boring!” I mock him in my posho accent, placing a splayed hand against my chest in feigned indignity. His right eye twitches at me and he turns away.

The sheepish new boy comes to a stop at the head of the class, glancing around the classroom as Mutou does his introductory spiel. His eyes drift around the room, eventually making their way to me. I give him a little nod and his eyebrows flicker in confusion as his gaze drops below my desk.

“…please welcome our newest classmate.” Mutou finishes and begins clapping, signalling for the rest of us to do so. It dies off pretty quickly and everyone waits on the new guy to make a first impression.

“So… I’m Hisao Nakai.”

Mutou got his bloody name wrong too? I can relate to that; Mutou pronounced my surname as ‘Kappa’. It took weeks to correct my new classmates. Nakai says he likes reading, which perks up Lezard and Suzu, and football, which gets Haruhiko’s attention. That won’t last long. That lad’s too flighty to keep his attention on Nakai for longer than this period, guaranteed. As I’m leaning back on my chair to look at the rest of the class’s reactions, I see the waggling finger of Hakamichi.

[Pay attention.] She signs and I mouth the words ‘Get fucked’ clearly with an amused sneer. She bristles at my insult but doesn’t have a chance to sign anything back before Misha waves her hand excitedly at the new boy. Group work? Fuck’s sake… I don’t know whose got the shorter end of the stick. Me or Nakai.

It’s not until the next day’s group session that I finally get a chance to interact with Nakai, albeit briefly. I peek over my right shoulder at the new guy and, as expected, he’s completely overwhelmed - both by his new environment and by getting saddled with two of the most intense personalities in the class. He yawns loudly, looking proper fed-up. I look around to check where Mutou is and spot him clear across the room helping the trio of Komaki, Kyokan, and Kawana.

I pull my old, battered Pepsi Max pencil case out from under the desk and turn sideways in my chair, my back to the rest of the classroom. The soft zipper noise opening the can-shaped novelty draws Nakai’s attention to me. He goes to say hello but the flick of my wrist and the Kit-Kat skidding across the desk to him stops him in his tracks.

“You’re flagging, mate. Get that down you and you’ll be right as rain.” I offer with a knowing nod towards the chocolate bar. A little sugar rush will help him through the last leg of the day.

“Um, thank you…” He trails off, sheepishly realising he doesn’t know my name. Instead, he gingerly plucks the Kit-Kat off the table and carefully unwraps it, taking a bite out of both fingers at the same time. An absolute savage, this lad.

“Kapur. Molly Kapur.”

“Mocchan!” Misha loudly whispers, leaning toward me with a grin. I hate that she does that to people’s names. “You know you shouldn’t have candy in class! Did you at least bring enough for me~?”

I sigh and look in my secret snack stash. Sure enough, there’s one left. I proffer it towards Misha but as just her greedy hands are in reach, I pull it away. “You know the deal, Misha.”

“Right, right! Sorry, Molly~!” That’s better. As I swing my arm round to her again, I catch sight of Hakamichi glaring a hole through me. I stop just short Misha’s reach again and smirk; first at the class rep, and then at her loyal lap dog.

“Aaaaand? What do we say about tyrants, Misha?” I ask with a teasing inflection to my voice, like a master asking for her dog’s paw.

“Do I have to?” She asks quietly with a cute, pleading look - glancing sideways to the fuming Hakamichi then back at me. I look at her expectantly and she’s clearly conflicted between towing the Student Council line and wanting a delicious treat. C’mon, Misha, don’t let me down.

“…Sic semper tyrannis.” She finally announces, deflated, and I reward her gladly. Not only because it makes Hakamichi silently seethe but it amuses Nakai a little, as bewildered by my little game as he is. I turn back to my desk, good deeds done for the moment, and feel a tap on the back of my chair.

“Thank you, Kapur. Just what I needed.” Nakai whispers. I throw him a thumbs-up behind the back of my chair and continue with picking up Suzu’s slack.

“Miss Kapur, may I see you for a moment?” Mr Mutou inquires as I finish stuffing my books into my backpack. Bloody hell, what did I do now? Nakai casts a glance backwards as he exits the door and I give him a ‘here we go again’ roll of my eyes.

“Yes, sir?” I ask, stepping out from the front row of desks and standing to attention in front of Mutou, who leans forward to push himself up from his knees. He’s a lanky streak of piss and pretty scruffy but not nearly as bad as some of the other teachers here. Though he does have his moments.

“I need to remind you that food and drink are not to be consumed during class time, Miss Kapur.” He looks down at me but not with an overly-stern expression or tone. More tired. Mate, same. Especially with this song and dance.

“This is just a pencil case, sir.” I offering up my pencil case. I know full well this isn’t going to work but it’s worth a try.

“I know that’s a pencil case, Miss Kapur. The candy bars that were inside are why we’re having this chat. Again.”

“I was just helping a fellow student who was struggling to keep their energy up.” I state plainly and his eyebrows curl downwards.

“Who was it that was struggling, Molly?”

“I’m not a grass; unlike the person who dobbed me in…” I roll my eyes as I fold my arms defensively. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out who’d have a problem with me bending the rules.

“No one told on you, Miss Kapur. Your desk is literally in front of mine. I can see when you’re up to something. Even if you turn your back.” Ah, bollocks.

“Can’t you let this one slide, sir? I mean… I was only helping out someone I thought was thrown to the wolves without so much as a word of warning.” I say pointedly but vague enough as to not accuse Mutou of being a shit teacher. Which he can be. But only sometimes.

“So, you were looking out for Mr Nakai…” He says, pinching the bridge of his nose. I shrug in response, playing dumb. “Okay, I’m allowing it this once because it’s rare to see this sort of unsolicited camaraderie from you. I’m sure he appreciated the help.”

He smiles a little, to which I raise my eyebrows as I close my eyes and tilt my head. A real ‘yeah, maybe’ kind of look.

“Was there anything else, sir?” I ask, returning my hands behind my back, at attention. Old habits die hard.

“No, Kapur, that will be all. Just be sure to keep any food in your bag during class from now on and, since you seem so inclined, please continue to assist Nakai.” He nods sagely and I bow, more out of habit than respect.

“Yes, sir.” I say curtly, grabbing my bag and swinging it in an arc that slips the straps onto my shoulders easily. I leave the oppressive confines of the classroom only to be met with an equally oppressive atmosphere as the Student Council, along with Nakai, lurk near the stairs. I stare blankly at them for a second as I fish my headphones out of from behind my bow and pop them into my ears.

I turn on my heels and decide the long way round is preferable to another bollocking. I hear something muffled behind me as I plug the jack back into my iPod and resume playing my podcasts from where they stopped during lunch. Blocking out the world with my own kind of noise proves ineffective as I’m soon flanked, and stopped in my tracks, by the Student Council. No bloody courtesy…

I can only be amused as Shizune’s signing and Misha’s mouth almost sync with the two Cabin Fever hosts. It’s kind of a funny visual as the two Japanese girls seem to speak-slash-sign with Irish piss-taking banter. If only. I gesture to my earphones and mime like I can’t understand them, turning again to see Nakai looking a little amused at my antics.

At the very least, I’ve given the new guy some amusement. I shake my head, with a bit of ‘what are they like?’ energy about it, as I manoeuvre around the boy intent on my original direction; the library. The Student Council do not follow, luckily for them. I take up my usual spot at one of the desks at the end of the aisles. Where the mid-afternoon sun beams in just right.

I look around as I retrieve my homework and pencil case from my bag and throw them onto the desk with a noticeable clatter. Not a peep of protest. Guess no one is here, after all. Not even Ikezawa, which is odd for her - and that’s saying something. No, I shouldn’t make fun of her, she’s clearly damaged.

Then again, aren’t we all? Well, maybe not Misha. Not physically, at least. Maybe not Nakai, either. He didn’t have an obvious quirk to him. Fuck knows… Must be some transfer kid empathy that has me thinking about him.

I begin Ms Miyagi’s English assignment knowing it’ll be a breeze to do while I catch-up on the newest podcasts I’ve downloaded. Languages are my thing but studying my native language? They may as well give me top marks right now. It’s about an hour and change before I notice another solitary soul wandering through the stacks and it’s the new lad! He wasn’t lying about being a big reader then.

Nakai spots me and gives a nod - which I return with a two-finger salute from my forehead as he disappears towards the reading nook in the back. Minutes pass and a violet streak of motion bolts past my vision. Ah, there’s Ikezawa. Aaaand there goes Nakai, looking rather embarrassed. I stick my pinkies in my mouth and whistle, making him flinch, his head snapping in my direction.

“Don’t chase her; you’ll only die tired.” I call out, and his eyes become huge in… fear? As if it’s an actual possibility. Hm. He seems to shake his head free of the thought and continues on his way. Alright, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Based acceleration alone, Ikezawa could be on the track team…

After another three soft pats of flesh meeting plastic, I roll my shoulders and brace myself for the next flurry. “Again!”

Pap-pap-pap. “So what do you think of him?” Ikuno Komaki asks. Ever-curious, especially after I told her about our interactions.

“Again with a back fist! He seems alright. Not really had a chance to chat.” I respond, shrugging as Ikuno bops the punch mitts a few more times before twirling and knocking my hand away with the last. She’s getting stronger.

The rest of the week passed without many more interactions with the new lad. He always seemed busy with someone. Like vultures circling a fresh carcass. I should have warned him about some of the others, especially the tyrant and her lap dog. Unfortunately though, Mutou made sure Hisao was saddled with them for the foreseeable.

“Again!” I command and Ikuno obeys, throwing yet another three swift strikes at the pads on my raised hands but surprises me by pushing forward and throwing an unexpected uppercut in between the pads. Cheeky cow! The smirk on her face soon disappears as I lean back to avoid the cheap shot and clap both sides of her face with the punch mitts.

“Who taught you to fight dirty, Komaki?” I sneer, pushing her in the chest to put some distance between us. She cranes her neck from left to right before smiling sweetly, like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

“You did, Molly-Pop!” Ikuno squares up again, ready for the next sequence.

“Clearly not well enough. Again!” I encourage.

“Try to remember the basics of CQC!” I hear a voice call behind me and, stupidly, I react to it. I turn my head just enough to see Akio Hayashi approach the garden before I’m clocked in the jaw and sent spilling onto the grass.

“Oh shit!” Komaki is quick to pull me up onto my knees and make a fuss of me. Her blue eyes are wide in shock as she gingerly reaches for my face. “Are you okay, Molly-Pop?”

I snort with amusement as I push the mitt against my jaw and make it crack like a knuckle, the soft pop echoing out of my pursed lips - much to Komaki’s horror. She’s such a girly-girl but she got me good, I have to admit. She really is a lot stronger. I would say I’m surprised how well she took to these little self-defence lessons but knowing how much she needed them… Well.

“Ahhhh, that’s better. Nice straight, Ikuno.” I compliment before tearing the Velcro strap off my right wrist. I angrily throw my arm towards Hayashi, flinging the mitt off my hand at him. “As for you, you wanker!”

“Whoa! It’s not like I hit you!” Akio protests as the mitt bounces off him.

“How about I hit you next?” Ikuno’s concern for me soon turns to ire toward the redhead as she helps me back onto my feet. Good girl. Ikuno steps away from me to give Akio shit and I couldn’t be prouder. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Hisao and Emi Ibarazaki trot up with paint in their hands.

“You okay, Molly?” Hisao steps ahead of the track star with a wince. “That looked pretty bad.”

“Nah, she took it like a champ.” I will say one thing for Ibarazaki; she’s always encouraging. Chipper to the point of annoying but a positive attitude isn’t the worst thing to have.

“It’s fine.” I smirk, tearing off the other pad. “Head!” The mitt sails towards Akio’s face as Ikuno moves out of the way, bouncing off him with a satisfying sound. He curses at me while I turn back to Hisao.

“As for what we were doing; I’ve been teaching Ikuno some basic self-defence.” I gesture to the girl stepping up beside him.

“I’m Ikuno.” She smiles, swaying her arms in front of her coyly. Jaysus… Not again.

“Hisao; nice to meet you.”

“Ikuno, you’re looking a little thirsty. Can you grab our drinks out of my bag?” I say pointedly and she pouts at me. Hisao, seemingly oblivious to what I’m suggesting, smiles as Emi gets a devious look in her eye. She gets it.

“Is this something you do often?” Hisao asks.

“Beating up her classmates? Yeah, pretty much. Here’s your mitts, Molly-Pop.” Akio answers for me, forcing the mitts into my hands.

“Only Ikuno gets to call me that and I only beat up my classmates when they’re being tossers, Hayashi!”

“What does that mean?” Hisao furrows his brow in confusion, looking at Akio.

“It’s one of her British words. I don’t get half of what she says and I speak English pretty well.” He gives Hisao a wilting look while gesturing to me. Alright, don’t be an arsehole, Akio.

“You speak American English, not proper English.” I deride Akio’s supposed language skills before explaining to Hisao.

“Whatever.” Akio mutters.

“Tosser is another way of calling someone a jerk-off.” I explain, complete with the hand motion to cement what I mean. Both Hisao and Emi blush at the mime and Akio smirks.

“Such a beautiful language.” He jokes as Ikuno returns with a bottle of water and my towel. As I wipe the sweat from my forehead and the grass stains for my arms and thighs, Ikuno focuses her attention solely on Hisao once more.

“Hi, Emi! What are you guys up to?” She asks, her gaze locked on the new lad. I side-eye Akio and he’s seen it too, shaking his head as he dismisses her actions with a wave.

“Just grabbing some paint for Rin!” Emi bounces in place, a sure sign she’s getting impatient standing around.

“And apparently I’m gonna start running with Emi.” Hisao sighs, defeated. Pfft! My water sprays all over the grass as I double-over laughing.

“Oh, bloody hell! That’s a good one!” I wheeze, looking at an insulted Hisao. “What? I’ve seen you run, Hisao. Forget Hanako, chasing this one will actually kill you.”

“You don’t have to be so mean, Kapur!” Emi bristles but I noticed Hisao’s reaction more. It’s the same as what he had in the library. He’s scared.

“If you want to exercise, you could always join us?” Ikuno suggests, looking to me with big, pleading eyes for permission.

“Boxing isn’t a good exercise for Hisao.” Emi dismisses with a huff.

“It’s not just boxing, it’s mixed martial arts!” Ikuno jabs back.

“And running won’t give you abs like these.” I tease, lifting up my tank top. Again the pair blush but this time Emi tugs at Hisao’s arm, gaining his attention.

“Okay, enough navel-gazing! Rin needs her paint! Hope you guys come see her mural during the festival!” Emi calls, dragging poor Hisao along behind her.

“He seems nice…” Ikuno wistfully sighs as I push the punch mitts into her hands. I need to get her mind off that boy sharpish.

“Stand to, Komaki. Training’s not done.”

“Awww, can’t Akio take over?” She whines, our resident redheaded rascal holding his hands up in protest.

“Sorry, I’ve got fragile bird bones.”

The day of the festival is just as busy as last year. Students, parents, and folks who clearly didn’t know what kind of school this was when they were told about a festival; the gawkers.

I get my fair share of curious looks as I make my way throw the throngs of bodies toward the food stalls where I’m meant to meet Komaki. It’d be bad enough if they were just staring at my legs but more than a couple are looking my face - at the skin not covered by my uniform.

Mum said it’d be better here than it was back home but stares are the same in any language and it pisses me right off. I bob my head menacingly toward a middle-aged woman who turned her nose up at me, shocking her into turning away.

I continue to mean-mug the woman until she’s out of sight then turn my attention to the stalls. The sounds and smells of frying food mingled with an excited crowd reminds me of the annual fair back home. Gods, I hope they’re making fresh donuts this year. Above the din and between passing bodies, I see, and hear, something that catches my interest.

“...fine the way it is! Mostly.”

“I doubt that. You wouldn’t be here if that was the case, would you?”

“It’s not that bad of a heart! Certainly it can handle a little grease now and again!” A heart condition? Bloody hell, Hisao. Guess that explains a lot.

The animated argument between Hisao and Emi is almost laughable as the tiny track star holds Hisao’s food hostage. I creep up behind her and pluck the food out of the hand holding it away from Hisao; pirouetting around the shocked girl and sidling up to Hisao.

“You two doing dinner and a show? Because it’s probably better than whatever the theatre club’s doing.” I joke, handing the greasy goods back to Hisao, much to Emi’s dismay.

“Molly! Don’t encourage him! He’s got a…” She stops herself and I side-eye Hisao who has a face on him that’s telling her to shut the fuck up.

“Unclench, Hisao, I already overheard.” I elbow his arm with a sympathetic smile. “And mum’s the word until you’re comfortable telling folks.”

He seems to consider my words for a second before breathing a small sigh of relief. “Thanks, Molly. It’s still new to me.”

“Which is why he shouldn’t be eating that crap!” Emi lunges forward and I plant my palm on her forehead, stopping her at arms length as she flails uselessly.

“You’re such a butt, Molly!”

“You seen Ikuno about?” I ask casually whilst Hisao tucks into his karaage, pushing Emi back.

“Moh, sorreh.” He shakes his head, a smile pushing up his stuffed cheeks.

“At least don’t talk with your mouth full, Hisao!” Emi pouts cutely.

“Here, giz a bang on that.” I tear a piece off one of the fried chicken chunks and pop it in my mouth. “Mmmoh yeah, you made the right choice, Hisao. That’s gorgeous!”

“Ugh, fine! Give me a piece, Hisao.” Emi offers her hand out adamantly and he pulls the skewer in a cup away. Whilst they play fight some more I look around to see if I can find my friend. Even amongst the uniformed students, I can’t see hide nor hair of her.

“Where the bloody hell is she?” I mutter to no one in particular but the answer comes from the lips of another of my classmates.

“Looking for Ikuno?” Shinnosuke Kyokan asks. The neatly combed silver fox appears with his paramour, Misaki Kawana, draped on his arm.

“We saw her talking to some boys earlier.” Kawana points off towards the main building. “I think they were asking for directions.”

“So they weren’t students?” I frown and the pair shake their heads in unison. “Bollocks.”

“What’s wrong?” Hisao asks, throwing his cup in the trash as I start to head in that direction.

“It’s probably nothing…” I hope it’s nothing but I can’t help but have a bad feeling about it. Something in my gut's gnawing at me to go find her.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing.” Emi interjects and I notice both pairs looking at me oddly. At least half of them would understand my concern, even if it's unfounded.

“I just don’t want a repeat of Lamperouge.” I grimace, Kyokan and Kawana immediately getting my meaning.

“We’ll find Arai.” Kyokan nods with solemn determination, a serious face replacing his usual pleasant smile. He wasn’t here for it but he found out through Kawana. I’m glad he’s here now instead of him.

“Cheers, Shin.” I turn to the track star. “Emi, do you think you can find Miura?”

“Uh, I guess. Why?” She hops a little in place, ready to take off.

“Just say the word Lamperouge and tell her where I’m going. She’ll know what it means. Off you pop, quick as you can!” I order and she smirks, taking off as quick as her regular prosthetics will allow. I follow suit and split off towards the main building, Hisao following.

“I, uh, guess I’ll go with you. You didn’t tell me what to do so…” He offers a crooked smile and I simply nod. He keeps pace with my light jog through the crowds, earning a couple interested glances. I pay them no attention as every worst case scenario runs through my head.

“I’m guessing Lamperouge, whatever that means, is bad? Is it a British thing?” Hisao huffs just behind me. I hope he’s not pushing himself too hard, I can only deal with one problem at a time.

“No, Hisao, it’s a name. A very bad name.” I spit as we reach the main building and find no trace of her. Damn it! Where are you, girl? Luckily, reinforcements arrive in the shapely forms of Miki Miura and Taro Arai from opposite directions.

“You gonna be alright, tons-of-fun?” Miura pats the portly boy’s back tenderly.

“Just need… A second…” Arai leans on his knee with his good arm, sweating through his white shirt.

“Thanks for coming, guys. I want to be wrong but-”

“Say no more, Molls. None of us want a repeat of…” She trails off when she makes eye contact with Hisao. “The fuck are you doing here, new guy?”

“Um, helping, I guess?” He says, a little unsure as he looks tp me.

“And it’s appreciated, mate.” I give him a warm nod, beginning to untie my stupid bow. “This was the last place Ikuno was spotted with two randos so if you two can check inside?”

“On it. I go high?” Miura says to Arai as he straightens up.

“I’ll go low. Meet you in the middle.” He affirms, giving me a little salute as the pair head into the building. Glad I still have them to rely on.

“You’re with me, we’re checking the outside.” I state, tossing away my bow, which Hisao plucks off the ground. He follows and I start to unbutton my blouse.

“Um, do you want me to do anything other than, I assume, hold your clothes?” He asks, blushing. We round the corner, along the thin concrete path that surrounds the main building. Woulda been too easy if she was right here, probably somewhere round the back.

“You handy? Y’know, in a fight? With your heart and all?” I question, stripping the blouse off my shoulders, revealing the black tank top beneath, and tossing it over to Hisao as I roll my shoulders and crack my neck.

“Are y-you expecting a f-fight?” He struggles to talk, walk, and fold my blouse for me.

“I always expect a fight, Hisao.” I crack each of my knuckles in sequence to settle my nerves as we reach the rear corner of the building. “Yamaku sometimes has trouble with townies who love to make the trip up here and cause trouble. Wrecking stuff, harassing folks, generally being arseholes. We had some during the festival last year and a few during winter break.”

“What? Who’d do that?”

“Like I said; arseholes. Normie kids who think they can come round here and punch downwards. Unlucky for them; some of us punch back.”

“Why don’t we just tell security?” He asks meekly and I stop in my tracks, wheeling on him with a finger in his face

“One thing you need to learn about Yamaku is that we look after our own. Most of the adults - the teachers, the rent-a-cops, whoever-the-fuck - you can’t rely on them for anything. Got that?” I continue on my way as Hisao continues bleating.

“Aren’t they here to help us, though?” Oh, Hisao… You’re so bloody naïve…

“They didn’t last time someone tried to hurt Komaki.” I growl. “That’s why we have to look after each other.”

As we come up on one of the alcoves where an emergency exit lets out, I hear Ikuno’s voice.

“I r-really think I should get b-back to the festival, my friend’s waiting for me.” Ikuno cowers into the corner as two guys loom over her.

“Aw, come ooooon, babe! We can have fun right here!” They have to be in their twenties at least. Fucking scumbags. This has to be awful for Ikuno, just more trauma on top of the existing shit.

“Yeah, what’s your friend got that we ain’t, huh?” I signal for Hisao to stay back as I stride forward.

“Titanium legs and a fucking attitude problem!” I announce with a growl, making sure Ikuno knows I’m here to save her again.

“Who the fuck is this dyke? You two-timing us, babe?” One of them, the shorter one, grabs her arm as he laughs at me.

“Get off her, dickhead!” I snarl in English, charging forward. The taller of the two steps to me with a stupid grin and says something unfavourable about my skin tone in his native tongue. I return favour by dropping him with a swift kick in the balls and a colourful epitaph in my own. “Stay the fuck down, you nonce.”

I turn my attention to the other just as Ikuno manages to wrestle her arm free and push him over with a mighty shove. She looks at her hands for a second, finally realising how strong she’s gotten, before running over to me.

“M-Molly-Pop! Th-thank you!” Her voice quivers as she clings to my shoulders on the verge of tears.

“S’okay, Ikuno… We’re here.” I pat her back, watching the short one get up again with a scowl. “Hisao came to help. Go say hi, Ikuno.” I whisper and gesture behind me as her face lights up a little.

“Oh, o-okay.” She slips away from me and I hear a tiny “Hi, H-Hisao” behind me. There’s no way I can stop her fixating on him now… Her hero. The smile is knocked off my face as the guy I should have been focusing on clocks me.

“Fuck!” I think I bit my cheek. I really need to stop getting distracted. I spit the blood pooling in my cheek out onto the cracked concrete and take a few swinging misses before connecting with a kick to the thorax; sending him reeling back against the fire exit door.

“Take your friend and get the fuck out of my school before I really hurt you.” I threaten, taking up a southpaw stance.

“Fuck you, you …” He calls me a word that I don’t recognise at all. Thought I knew all the Japanese slurs… Hm. The fire exit door suddenly is kicked open from the inside with a cacophonous clatter, sending the guy spilling forward into a right cross from me. He crumples to the splintered concrete in a heap.

“Aw come on, Molls! You couldn’t have left one for me?” Miura laments, stepping out of the door, followed by a sweaty Arai.

“Sorry, Miki.” I shrug as the first guy begins to stir with a groan. “Looks like that one’s not quite done and he doesn’t appreciate girls with darker skin.”

“Oh shit, for real? That true, buddy?” Miki menaces the tall guy as he stumbles back onto his feet and into the solid wall of mass that is Taro Arai.

“You shouldn’t judge people like that, pal. It’s not nice.” Taro grins with a bassy growl.

The guy makes a noise like a scared, wounded animal as he pushes past the two and tries to pull his groggy friend up onto his feet. “C’mon man, we need to get the fuck out of here, these freaks’re crazy!”

As the three of us close-in, he gives up; abandoning his groggy friend and bolting around us and past the corner of the building, disappearing from sight.

“That is not a good friend. Not at all.” Taro tuts with a disappointed tone, shaking his head.

“You alive, shitbag?” Miki asks, kicking the guy who was left behind. He rolls onto his back with a pained groan.

“M’sorry…” He mutters, quietly. Oh, you will be…

“Taro, you got a marker on you?” I ask the one-armed artist and he fishes around in his slacks with a ponderous expression, retrieving a black sharpie pen from his rear pocket.

“Only this permanent one I was using for signs this morning.”

“Perfect.” I grin, snatching it out of his meaty mitt. I lean on the guy’s chest and grab his face in a left-handed vice-grip. I stick my tongue out of the corner of my mouth as I careful begin writing on his forehead, his eyes wide in fear. The marker is thick but with a few light, quick strokes, I manage to write the characters for ‘molester’.

I toss the pen back to Arai, who fumbles catching it. Luckily Miki is on hand to catch it for him and offer it back with wry smile.

“Now, you’re gonna piss off back down your own end and if I ever catch sight of you again… I’ll kill you. Okay?” I ask in a cheery voice as I slap his face a twice like a Mafioso. I get up, dusting off the knee plates of my prosthetics.

We leave the guy whimpering on the ground and round the corner to find Hisao and Ikuno; the latter helping him fold my blouse properly.

“See, like this.” She smiles, almost like nothing ever happened. I worry how much she’s actively suppressing and how much is her natural flighty nature just losing interest in ‘the bad stuff’. Fuck knows, I'm not a psychologist.

“It’s the puffy shoulders, I just don’t get-hey. Is, uh, everything okay?” Hisao looks concerned and I wave him off.

“Nah, all sorted. Bish-bash-bosh!” I dust my hands, satsified.

“Did you see how hard I pushed that guy?” Ikuno beams, excitedly bouncing after passing my uniform bits to Hisao. “Your training’s paid off!”

I give her a little smile and a pat on the shoulder. “You sure did, Ikuno. Good job.”

“Hey, Ikuno, did you see the mural? Taro helped Rin paint it.” Miki takes her by the shoulders and keeps her walking alongside Taro.

“I didn’t help that much…”

As they walk ahead I turn to Hisao, holding out my hands. He gives me the rest of my uniform and I shake it out of the neat square it was folded into.

“That took forever to fold…” He laments as I slip the blouse on and dangle the bow haphazardly around my neck, offering my arms out.

“How do I look, Hisao?”

“Like you just got into a fight.” He winces, looking at the mark on my cheek. It’s still tender but it’s fine. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Helluva day.” I half-sigh, half-chuckle. “Listen, mate, I appreciate you coming along and looking after Ikuno while I, y’know…”

“Glad I could help. Honestly, I think this is more excitement than I was really expecting.” He offers, ruefully rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’d be surprised how hairy it gets sometimes.”

“I guess. Is Ikuno gonna be okay? And what about those guys? I saw one run off but the other…”

“I think they learned their lesson. And Ikuno is… Well, you’ve met her.”

“Yeah, she’s… Interesting?” He gives me an unsure look and I bop his arm lightly.

“She’s a bit wappy, that one. She’s sweet on you though.”

“R-Really?” He asks. I shake my head at the dense lad and push him forwards.

“And hey, ‘cause I didn’t get to say it before…” I offer up my fist and, after a moment, he bumps it with his own. “Welcome to Yamaku Academy, Hisao.”

I hope you survive the experience.

Part II

Author's Notes: Much like a lot of my writing recently, I had an idea and wrote like 6k words about it. A little bit of a different take on the Mollies I've written before, a little bit of a harder edge. Might be the pilot for something I do post-Flutter but for now I hope you folks enjoy it.

Sharp-O wrote:Anarchy from the UK

hdkv wrote: ↑Sun Oct 08, 2023 5:03 pm I see what you did there with the title

hdkv wrote: ↑Sun Oct 08, 2023 5:03 pmGood story, will be glad if it will be contiuned. Is it in Monomyth timeline?

StealthyWolf wrote: ↑Sun Oct 08, 2023 6:15 pm I really like the grittier take on the "goings-ons" surrounding Yamaku and the environment. Yamaku is certainly painted as a "safe space" of sorts in many stories and while it's not a bad thing necessarily, it is interesting to think about if that weren't quite the case.

StealthyWolf wrote: ↑Sun Oct 08, 2023 6:15 pmStarting on an Emi-route but with the complication of befriending this group could certainly lead to some interesting drama and/or an exploration of the some of the characters. That or just an interesting divergence from the original route, which would be just as interesting.

StealthyWolf wrote: ↑Sun Oct 08, 2023 6:15 pmThen there was the characterization of the new guy, "Kyokan" (Is his first name Shin? Or did I read that wrong?), and his relationship with Misaki. I can definitely feel the "pompous" air coming off of them, but toned back to be less bitchy, if that makes sense.

StealthyWolf wrote: ↑Sun Oct 08, 2023 6:15 pmI like how everyone always envisions Ikuno as bubbly and fun based off of her visuals because, I mean, it fits pretty well. Her friendship and interactions with Molly were a joy to read and I understood their dynamic and connected with it pretty quickly.

StealthyWolf wrote: ↑Sun Oct 08, 2023 6:15 pm So yeah, overall, really fun and good read!

Scramblers wrote: ↑Mon Oct 16, 2023 1:33 pm I noticed you were making a bit of a stir on the Discord, and this seemed an easier point to jump in than a mega-long fic.

Scramblers wrote: ↑Mon Oct 16, 2023 1:33 pmIt was a lot of fun. Your Molly is an absolute delight. Hisao enters her orbit very organically (Is that a mixed metaphor? Am I unwittingly conjuring images of biological celestial mechanics? Oh well.). My only complaint, a very minor one, is that the slang is over-egging the pudding a tad. Otherwise, though, I'm looking forward to the next installment.

I'm so glad I made the time to read this. Molly's interactions with Shizune and Misha are fun to read, and honestly it was kinda scary for her to get into a fight with those jackasses but god, she took them on like a badass. I also find it interesting that it's implied that Hisao somehow made it to the Emi route, though it's unknown if it'll stay that way.

Siphonata wrote: ↑Fri Oct 27, 2023 6:23 pm

I'm so glad I made the time to read this. Molly's interactions with Shizune and Misha are fun to read, and honestly it was kinda scary for her to get into a fight with those jackasses but god, she took them on like a badass. I also find it interesting that it's implied that Hisao somehow made it to the Emi route, though it's unknown if it'll stay that way.

I'm glad you liked it! Most of my stories tend to diverge from established routes in some way or another

Street Fighter - Yamaku Edition
I always enjoy seeing a different take on characters than what they usually are like, so this ticks all the right boxes.
I do agree with Scramblers that the colloquialisms are a bit over the top... Imo, less would be more in this case.

SPaG

I don’t know whose who's got the shorter end of the stick.

Mirage_GSM wrote: ↑Sun Dec 03, 2023 2:37 pm

Street Fighter - Yamaku Edition
I always enjoy seeing a different take on characters than what they usually are like, so this ticks all the right boxes.
I do agree with Scramblers that the colloquialisms are a bit over the top... Imo, less would be more in this case.

I do enjoy the harder edge to this Molly and if/when I do a follow-up, I plan on going into the whys and hows and doing a little more action.

I'll try to tone down the colloquialisms a bit for everyone's sake

The rest of the festival played out exactly how I imagined it would. Ikuno, utterly besotted, insisted on involving Hisao in every activity on offer and Hisao looking worriedly at me whenever Ikuno was distracted enough. I told him I was fine but, fair play to him, he kept me stocked on cold drinks to soothe my face. Still, his attention being on me wasn’t impressing Ikuno any.

I made my excuses before the fireworks were about to start and made my way back to the dorms. I gave a little appreciative nod to Miki as I passed her and Taro attempting to knock over a pyramid of bottles at a stall. Glad to have the back-up today and those two are always reliable when someone is in trouble, especially me.

Once inside my dorm, I make my preparations as my anxiety begins to kick in. I try to maintain my breathing as I close my blackout curtains and construct a small nest out of my duvet and pillows. I get comfy, removing my legs and uniform. I power on my laptop and slip on my noise-cancelling headphones.

The DVD choice is obvious - I need comfort telly - so I start playing Spaced series one with the commentary on as I see the ambient flickers of light begin to ignite outside and hear the all-too close bangs and snaps. I turn up the volume and close my eyes, allowing the accents of home to fill my ears like one of my podcasts.

I don’t laugh, I’ve heard the conversation that many times, but I smirk at certain gags and playful banter between my favourite actors and try to maintain focus on my breathing. Fireworks, cars back firing, explosions in movies; all of them trigger my PTSD and the few things I’ve found that can really help me through it are comfort telly and… Well, there was one person but he’s not here any more. Not really.

After the first episode credits roll, I open my eyes and wait for any more flashes of light from outside. Satisfied that no more fireworks will be going off, I disconnect my headphones and allow the next episode to continue through the laptop speakers as I prepare for bed.

There’s a dull pain as my fist hits the wall with a loud thud, shocking me awake from my nightmare. I sit up - hearing a muffled ‘what the fuck, Kapur?’ from Kumamoto next door - to find my duvet and sheets soaked with sweat and my pillow soaked with tears.

“Bollocks…” I grumble as I swing myself off the edge of my bed and attach my legs.

I slip on some casual wear and take my sheets down to the laundry room, treading carefully around the boards that I know to be creaky before reaching the elevator. Something about the laundry room being near a cluster of deaf students on the ground floor rubs me a certain way.

I load up the old machine and it clatters into life. I flinch before remembering my earlier gripe. I guess I understand the practicality of it but something in me thinks it’s a touch… Ableist? Is that the word I’m reaching for? Still, I’m at least thankful that the noisy beast of a machine won’t disturb anyone.

I place a hand on the washing machine after a couple minutes, holding it in place as it begins to vibrate violently. The futility of trying to dampen the sound some enters my mind shortly before another, more wicked, thought. I peak out into the hall for signs of life and catch the lights nearest to the elevator switch to low-light mode; a sure sign that no one is prowling the halls at this hour except me.

I’m still anxious from my nightmare and the rest of today’s events… I could do with a release. The added bonus that no one would hear me is all the rationalisation I need to check the hall once more before closing the door and trotting over to my partner for the evening. Hoisting myself onto the corner, I allow the vibrations to work their magic and for the stress of the past twenty-four hours to melt away.

The following week passes with little fanfare. Misha fussed about the bruise on my cheek the first day after the festival but Hisao was helpful enough to run interference with the nosey Student Council. Shizune clearly didn’t believe me but I could care less about her opinion of me.

Hisao seemed to comfortably fall into place with the class now that he’d been in the shit with us. He was speaking to more people, getting stuck in with assignments and everything. Nothing like a little trauma-bonding. Good on him.

Ikuno, however, shamelessly inserted herself into nearly everything Hisao did. Every group work assignment saw her desperately try to get in proximity with him. She kept following me to the library in case he showed up. She’s got it bad. I tried to warn Hisao but I think he kind of likes the attention which worries me in a whole different way.

I don’t think he’s a wrong’un but I’m keeping an eye on him all the same. Not that Ikuno inviting him along to our training session makes that hard…

“Looking to get some abs, after all?” I smirk at Hisao as he tries to look casual in his school-issued P.E. uniform.

“Yeah, well, you make a compelling argument.” He chuckles a little and looks at me with earnest eyes. Ikuno looks between the two of us then raises her hand.

“What should we do for a warm-up, Molly-Pop?”

“Stretching, obviously! Alright, Hisao, just follow us. Shoulder stretch, first.”

Ikuno and I underhook our arms and begin pulling. After a moment, Hisao follows suit and holds it for as long as we do before swapping arms.

“Good, now chest and shoulder.” I reach over my head and behind my back and the others do the same, following the same motions and holding them.

“Calf stretch.” I show how to do it for Hisao and then adjust his form so he can get the best stretch. “Good work, Ikuno!”

Happy to be praised, Ikuno smiles but I can’t help notice her glancing sideways at me pressing against Hisao’s stomach as I explain how he should keep it firm.

“Great. Let’s finish up with a quad stretch. Ikuno, you can show Hisao how, right?” I ask and her expression brightens. She nods and pulls Hisao into position and places his hand on her shoulder.

“Okay! Now pull your leg up aaaall~ the way until it touches your butt!” Ikuno instructs and Hisao does as he’s told. I roll out the yoga mats while Hisao holds his leg for fifteen seconds then repeats it for the other. “Awesome job, Hisao! Feeling good? Feeling loose?”

“Yeah,” Hisao chuckles, shaking his limbs a little before placing her hand on his shoulder, reciprocating the assistance. “You wanna do it?”

Ikuno’s face becomes beetroot red at Hisao’s touch and I have to intervene before I die of second-hand embarrassment. “Quad stretch, Ikuno!”

Ikuno’s wide-eyed, blushing face snaps to me then nods, beginning her final stretches. “R-r-right.”

I give Hisao a withering look but he seems obliviously happy to help, holding his arms out to Ikuno’s sides like guide rails.

“Easy, Ikuno, you’re gripping a little tight.” He winces.

“O-Oh! Sorry!”

“It’s okay; it’s probably because I’m taller.” Hisao chuckles as Ikuno looks up at him with her doe eyes.

“Yeah… Taller.”

If this training doesn’t end with me fetching the hose; I will be astonished.

Hisao lies splayed out on the morning grass, his track jacket bundled into a makeshift pillow as his chest heaves. Ikuno kneels beside him and I crouch down on his other side.

“Y’alright there, Hisao?”

“I-I’m fine!” He growls, shooting me an angry look. Maybe not at me specifically but it still makes me narrow my eyes at him. Hisao’s anger quickly turns to sheepish embarrassment, rubbing this chest with one eye closed. “I’m j-just… a little… w-winded.”

That’s obviously bollocks but whether it’s because of pride or something he doesn’t want to share, I can’t tell.

“Do you want me to call the nurse?” Ikuno asks, seemingly oblivious that he’s lying. His shirt is soaked with sweat and he’s clearly trying to do a breathing exercise. Despite how bad it looks, he manages a weak, crooked smile in her direction.

“I’ll be okay, really, I’m just out of shape.” Committed to the lie, I see. Fine, we’ll play it your way.

“I told you to go at your own pace, mate, not Ikuno’s. She’s like a whippet with a bum full of dynamite.” I smirk.

“A what?” He looks up at me, confused. Ugh, teaching him all my British-isms is still a work in progress…

“I’m faster than you think.” Ikuno truncates my explanation for me and pats his leg gently. “Here, have some of my drink.”

Hisao sits up and gladly accepts the bottle of half-drunk Pocari Sweat. Ikuno watches intently as he sips at the neck of the bottle, a small smile creeping onto her face.

“I think we should call it there for the day, yeah? You did well for your first session.” I nod approvingly at Hisao as he hands the bottle back to Ikuno, who takes a swig of the sports drink herself.

“Thanks for, hngh, having me.” Hisao grunts as he gets to his feet, shaking his jacket out.

“You’re welcome to join us anytime! Right, Molly-Pop?” Ikuno asks, holding the bottle tight in her hands. She’s going to be going on about that ‘indirect kiss’ for the rest of the day.

“If he feels he can keep up, sure.” I smile at Hisao and he smiles back.

“Do you think he likes me?” Ikuno asks and I can’t help but roll my eyes and continue to pick at my decidedly mediocre shogayaki. Cafeteria food is often more about nutrition than flavour but this is poor by even those standards.

“I think so. He’s been helping you a lot in class.” I answer as non-committally as I can. I’m trying not to feed her obsession but it’s proving harder and harder.

“Noooo, I mean like-like! Do you think he like-likes me?” She doubles-down and I toss my chopsticks into my bowl and look up at my friend.

“Have you tried asking him?” I sigh, not even trying to hide my annoyance. This little song and dance isn’t cute anymore.

“I mean, I’ve been putting signals out there…” Ikuno pouts, poking at her ramen.

“And he’s clearly not picking them up. Maybe he’s overwhelmed by how nice everyone is and can’t distinguish it. Maybe he’s just dense. Either way you need to shit or get off the pot.”

“I… Uh, I don’t know what that means.”

“Who dares wins? Fortune favours the bold?” I throw a couple more idioms at her and her doe-eyed stare remains unchanged. “Fuck sake; just go invite him to the Shanghai for a date!”

Ikuno’s eyes, somehow, go wider and her cheeks burn red. I sigh and throw my head into my hands.

“If you don’t, someone else might, so shoot your shot now.” I rub my face before offering her a sympathetic smile. I know how hard it is to ask a boy out here. “The worst thing he can say is ‘no’, right?”

Ikuno considers my words before her expression becomes determined. She nods and stands from the table. “You’re right! I’m gonna march over there and demand a date!”

“You should ask; not demand!” I call after her as she bolts for the doors. Eh, she’ll figure it out. I’m about to tuck back into my dinner when Ikuno’s tray is slid sideways by another taking it’s place. I look up and see another of my classmates, Shin Kyokan, take her place.

“Slumming it tonight, Shin?” I smirk a little as he daintily prepares his meal space.

“Decidedly so, Molly.” He smirks back, glancing up at me. “But considering we’ve both been ditched by our significant others, I thought you’d appreciate some company.”

I give the smarmy prick a withering look that amuses him before I shake my head.

“At least you’re not boy-crazy.” I mutter, earning a chuckle from my new dining partner.

“Indeed, though I imagine any details of my love-life would be just as tiresome for someone a little more…” He swirls his fork in my direction. I raise an eyebrow at him and he smiles in response. “Action-oriented.”

“Just ‘cause I know how to throw a punch doesn’t mean I don’t like romance…” I admit quietly.

“And yet; while others are utterly enamoured with our newest arrival, you appear to bear him no mind outside of Ikuno’s pursuit of him.”

“I bear him some mind, Shin. He’s a nice enough guy.” I shrug, shovelling some food into my mouth before continuing. “But I’m not exactly in the market for anything more than…” I trail off as I choke and struggle to swallow my food.

“But you’re so charming.” Shin dryly delivers that particular witty comeback so expertly, I half expect Hayashi to appear out-of-nowhere to applaud. I give him an appreciative snort of amusement and a smirk as I take a sip of water.

“Now that’s curious…” Shin observes. Our stroll back toward our respective dorms interrupted when the Boys’ Dorm doors are flung open and a rather angry Ikuno bolts out and across the quad with a face like thunder.

“Ikuno!” I shout but either she somehow didn’t hear me or she just blanked me on purpose, disappearing into the Girls’ Dorms. “Fuck sake… Looks like I’m gonna be revising my opinion of Nakai.”

“I’m heading that way,” Shin gestures with his head, following Ikuno’s trail. “I’ll see if I can find out why Ikuno is upset if you prefer to get to the root of the problem?”

I give a nod as I turn to storm over towards the Boys’ Dorms. Whatever Hisao said, or did, to upset Ikuno means I’m going to kick his fucking arse. As I enter the dorms, I corner Maeda and the beret-wearing little weirdo is more than happy to point me to the right floor so I get out of his face.

It’s only when the elevator doors close and I look at the glowing button next to the right floor that a realisation dawns on me. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! I hit the wall nearest to me and the metal of the slowly rising coffin warbles with the impact. Why didn’t I twig earlier?

The doors open with a ding and, sure enough, there’s Hisao. Standing right outside his door. I take a deep breath in before charging forward. Hisao notices me and his face lights up.

“Molly! There you are! Ikuno found you quicker than I thou-”

“What the fuck is your problem, Nakai!?” I throw an accusatory finger in his face to start. Whatever he says next decides whether I punch him in the face. Wait… Shit! I can’t, can I? How the fuck do I kick the shit out of someone with a heart condition!?

“What? Didn’t Ikuno tell you?” He asks, naturally leaning away from my finger and looking confused. “I asked her to find you since I don’t have your number and…” He turns to point at an all-too familiar door and my heart sinks. Bollocks…

“What’s up with Kenji?” I ask, Hisao double-taking when I mention his neighbour by name. “Long story. What’s he done now?”

“Ah, right…” Hisao looks at the door and then steps conspiratorially toward me. “Kenji asked me to pick up a package from the post office. He kinda wore me down about it, honestly…” Hisao explains but my impatient hand-twirling gets him to the point.

“The package wasn’t especially well-wrapped and the paper was a bit torn on the edge so I peeked… I… I can’t believe I’m even saying this but… I think it’s a gun.” Hisao’s eyebrows curl downwards with worry as I feel every hair on the back of my neck stand on edge.

“I looked up the company and I’m pretty sure it’s just an airsoft gun but when I tried to talk to Kenji about it, he slammed the door in my face. That’s when Ikuno got here. She was mumbling about something…”

“Fuck sake, Hisao…” My palm meets my forehead when I realise Ikuno bottled it and then Hisao asked for me. That’s going to be a whole thing… But first thing’s first though… I breath a heavy sigh as I rub my forehead. “So you sent her to get me instead of a teacher because you didn’t want to get your friend in trouble.”

“I wouldn’t call us friends but y-yeah… You said not to trust the adults s-so I thought you’d know what to do?”

I did say that, yeah. And he took it to heart. Heh. I can’t help but smile a little as I step past him and approach Kenji’s door. It’s been a long time… I knock a couple times before a shriek comes from the opposite side of the door.

“I told you to mind your business, Nakai! And who’s out there with you?! I can see you through the peep hole, you know, it’s no good wearing a balaclava!” He spits in the high-pitched tone he has when he’s defensive. I huff sadly and with my hands against the door, I lean in close.

“Kenny, open up. It’s… It’s Molly.”

There’s a beat of silence before a fresh squeal erupts from the other side of the door.

“Nakai, you fucking narc! You told on me! Judas! You ratted me out! And to the worst person you could have, too!” The tirade continues as I give Hisao a weary look. He looks more confused than ever. Long story. I slam my fist against the door and Kenji shuts up.

“Open up, Kenny.” I speak slowly and gently, despite the tsunami of anxious anger in my stomach. I feel sick. Memories of spirited conversation, whirlwind romance, misunderstanding, toxic whispers, and then this door. Slammed in my face.

“Fuck off, witch!”

“I can kick this door down, Kenny. You know I can and you know I will if what Hisao told me is true and you don’t open this door right fucking now.” My soft voice becomes a sterner growl.

“Nakai doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about! Now leave me alone!” Kenji shouts, closer to the door. I can tell. I bet he’s peering through his peep hole closer than ever. A small part of me hopes he regrets that crack about my skin tone…

“I’m not going to ask nicely again.”

“You haven’t asked nicely at all! You showed up at my door like the god damn Gestapo! I w-will n-not be intimidated by y-you!”

“You’re right, Kenny.” I sigh, resting my head against his door. “I’m sorry. Will you please open the door? I promise I won’t hurt you.”

“…You promise?”

“Merebimur.” I say softly, a hint of a smile forming when I hear the half dozen locks and chains being removed before the door opens.

“Merebimur.” Kenji responds quietly. Even behind the ridiculous prescription glasses, I can see how sad his eyes are, even as they avoid contact with mine. It’s been such a long time since I saw them. I glance back at Hisao, whose surprised face is a pretty funny picture. Kenji points to the box on his desk, inviting me in. “It’s just an airsoft gun, Molly-Pop.”

“Huh.” I hear a quiet Hisao behind me. Hisao’s shadow feeds into the room from the doorway as I step cautiously into enemy territory. I shouldn’t expect landmines or snares but… Discarded clothes, delivery boxes, and empty soda bottles are definite trip hazards for me at least.

It’s a mess in here. The walls are lined with newspapers and photocopied textbook pages. Like the nest of an insane magpie. Or the den of an absolute nutter. I didn’t think he’d get this bad… The desk is just as cluttered but the lamp shines down on a clear space in the middle where the open box sits.

“Seriously, it’s n-not a big deal.” Kenji continues to try to justify his latest boneheaded decision. The weapon lies on top of the styrofoam insert it was transported in. I can tell it’s a Glock 17 instantly. Dad had one when we were stationed in the UK.

“You always did want one of these.” I observe quietly as I pick up the weapon delicately, index finger along the slide, not on the trigger. I pop the magazine to check if it’s loaded. Thankfully, it isn’t. Nor has the gas well been filled. Small mercies. Still, its heft feels light than what it’s imitating. Still too life-like for my liking…

“Look, it’s not like I was gonna do something stup-” Kenji begins before I rack the slide and wheel on him. Pressing the barrel of a firearm, even an imitation one, against Kenji’s greasy forehead is enough to get the reaction I hoped for; sheer, white-knuckle terror on this stupid arsehole’s face.

“Molly! What the hell!?” Hisao gasps, jumping back through the doorframe. I glance sideways to see if he’s clutching his chest or anything before flickering back to Kenji.

“Making a point.” I say coldly as I press the barrel harder against Kenji’s thick skull. He stammers as his jaw quivers.

“W-w-w-what th-th-the fuck, M-M-Molly…” Kenji manages to finish his sentence despite all the blood draining from his face and the dryness in his throat.

“You brought a gun into a school, Kenny! A disabled school! Our school, you stupid arsehole!” I growl angrily, pushing him further across the room with each point. “You did something so fucking stupid that I don’t even know what to fucking do with you right now…”

“P-Please don’t h-hurt me… I didn’t think it would be a-”

“Shut up, you bloody idiot! I can forgive Hisao’s ignorance because you tricked him into being a patsy but you? You know what this looks like; don’t you?”

Kenji’s guilty eyebrows slump, his head turns and I lower the pistol. He ought to know. “Y-Y-Yeah…”

“Yeah! You look like a school shooter! You know what that means!” I speak clearly to Kenji while intentionally obscuring what I mean for Hisao’s sake. And mine.

Kenji nods slowly. He knows my history. He knows how I lost my legs. I breathe a lamentable sigh into the cluttered, dank room and pull the weapon back, examining it closely again. It’s true that it’s airsoft but it’s gas-powered so it’d no doubt break skin or could even take an eye out. It can hurt someone and that’s all that matters to me.

“I’m s-sorry, Molly-Pop.” Kenji whimpers and I believe him. Even knowing how bad things got between us and how much of a spiral he’s clearly fallen down; I can’t believe he’s a bad guy. I’ve met far worse, anyway. He’s just stupid. He needs help more than punishment.

“I know, Kenny, but… But this is the last time that will work.” I speak definitively. “I’m confiscating this; both for your safety and everyone else’s.”

“You can’t do that!” His shrieking scowl is the turning point for me. “I paid good money for it! Hisao!” He looks to the doorframe for support and finds none; Hisao’s utterly bewildered face peeking in from the door.

“You should thank Hisao for fetching me instead of a teacher, Kenji!” I shout him down, his begrudging huff of agreement ending whatever other argument he may have had chambered.

“I hear you’ve done anything like this again - anything that could hurt someone, even you - and I won’t be so forgiving.”

I want to hug him. I want to tell him everything will be okay. But that bridge was burned ages ago and now I can only offer him an ultimatum. I step forward, Kenji’s face rising to meet mine.

“Sorry, Kenny.” I whisper softly before crossing my arm across my body and, with one swift flick of my arm, smash the butt of the pistol grip into Kenji’s nose. He howls as the impact sends him reeling back onto his clothes-covered bed.

“Ahh fuhk! Yoo bish! Yoo zed yoo wunna hur me!” He spits, blood trickling from his nostrils. I tuck the weapon into the band of my skirt, in the small of my back, and cover it with my shirt.

“I’m a lying succubus, remember? You’re on notice, Setou.” I turn on my heels and step back to the desk, retrieving the other contents of his package and slinging it under my arm as quickly as I can.

“Yeh, yoo be’er ruhn! Bish!” Kenji screams out as I exit his room and past Hisao, not making eye contact with him. I try to focus on the elevator, even as I feel a lump in my throat. I didn’t want to hurt him… No, he should have known better. Keep moving, Kapur. Always forward. Rapid footsteps behind me cause me to pull back a closed fist, ready for an attack.

“Whoa! It’s just me, Molly!” Hisao protests, holding his hands up. His face is a mix of confusion, concern, and fear. I snort in frustration and continue to the elevator, the new lad now in lockstep.

As I turn to look out into the hall, I see the flash of Kenji’s thick lenses disappearing into his room and the cacophony of locks and latches being secured. The doors close and I drop the box under my arm as I crouch, then fall onto the floor, holding my head.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuck!” I scream into the chamber, my raw emotions gushing forth like a hose. “Fucking fuuuuuuuck!”

I feel a hand on my shoulder, flinching as an instinct. My fight-or-flight is going crazy but the hand stays firm. I glance sideways; Hisao’s concerned face looking back at me. Utterly lost. Me too, mate.

“Bollocks…” I groan, slamming the back my head against the wall of the lift. I place a hand over Hisao’s and throw him an awkward smirk. “Guess you’ve got a lot of questions about what just happened?”

Hisao’s face goes through an assortment of expressions but as he glances towards the buttons, his face becomes weirdly determined. He rises from his kneeled position and offers out his hands.

“Probably more than an elevator trip can answer.” He says as I grab hold and he hoists me back onto my wobbly legs. He leans down and grabs the box while I make sure the weapon is still stowed secretly behind my back. “First things first; what’re we going to do with this? Don’t think we can just toss it in the garbage…”

We. Heh.

“Follow me then, Mr Steed. You’re needed.” I smirk as the doors open and I step ahead of him. “We’re going walkabouts.”

Past the PE track, up the trail into the woods but not towards the fields, our conversation is minimal. Mostly check-ins on how we’re handling the hike which is better than expected, honestly. I pause when I catch sight of a particular fir tree, a chunk of bark splintered and healed with overgrown grass leading off to the left.

“This way.” I turn my head towards Hisao and beckon him to follow. “Watch your step though.”

“I think you should too.” Hisao observes as I brush my leg through the grass to find the solid dirt underneath.

“Don’t worry, mate. I’ve been here before, just need to get my footing.” I plant one foot in front of the other carefully before I’m confidant that the path is still well-trodden enough for me to navigate.

“Not exactly easy to get up here for someone like you, how did you find… Wherever the hell we’re going?” Hisao asks, following me at an equal pace.

“Oh, you know…” I chuckle, reminiscing. “Used to come up here with…”

“Kenji?” Hisao asks and I nod.

“Yeah…”

“Wait!” I turn back, only to see Hisao’s wide-eyes and a finger pointed directly at me with his free hand. Clever clogs looks like he’s just solved the greatest mystery ever. “You! You’re-!”

“Yup.” I laugh despite myself, holding my hands out like I’ve been caught in the act. “I’m the scary feminist Kenji no doubt warned you about.”

Hisao’s jaw goes slack and he looks around, bug-eyed, like he’s searching for the words to say next.

“C’mon, slow-coach. Keep up.” I turn and continue as I hear Hisao’s baffled mumbling behind me, keeping pace.

“How!?”

“Well, you see… When a boy and a girl like each other…” I tease and Hisao jogs up to my side with a disbelieving look.

“No, really, how? Kenji’s such a weirdo and you’re…” He waves his hand up and down in my direction, slightly flustered.

“I’m what?” I tilt my head up, curiously looking down my nose at Hisao’s blushing face.

“A badass!”

“Good answer. It’s a long story but…” I smirk and push some bushes aside, revealing our destination: a clearing with a sheer verge directly facing us. Overgrown grass surrounds a worn, rough patch of dirt around a firepit, old school benches and desks scattered around the circle. “We’re here.”

“What is that?” Hisao points to the most striking landmark to the right. A concrete arch like an old military pillbox with a metal door, caked with moss and verdigris, which juts out of the steep dirt hill.

“From what I’ve been told; an old military bunker. It was installed during the Second World War, when the campus was more of a hospital than it is now.” I explain as we walk over to the door.

“Wow. Ever been inside?” Hisao asks and I feel a shiver up my spine. I don’t think I’d go in even if I could.

“Nope. Sealed tight.” I slam the fist against the metal door and the sound echoes through the interior. I listen intently for a couple seconds before my curiosity is satisfied. Kenji used to tell me ghost stories about this place…

“So we’re just gonna ditch this thing?” Hisao asks, bringing the air soft box up into view. “Seems dangerous to just leave it up here.”

“I’m going to disassemble it and bury the pieces all over the shop.” I explain, patting one of the old wooden desks near the fire pit. Hisao places the box down and turns to pull a plastic chair closer. “All over the place, I mean.”

“I got you.” Hisao nods, turning the chair and squatting down on it so he rests his arms in front of him, on the back of the seat, huffing a little. “Did you need me for digging or…?”

“I just wanted the company, honestly. Plus I figure you’d want to ask some of those questions.” I smirk and pull the pistol from my waistband, turning it over in my hand. “You ever fired one of these?”

Hisao is taken aback by the question, furrowing his brow before finally shaking his head. I nod with acknowledgement then load a small amount of ball bearings into the magazine and green gas into the well. I load the magazine, rack the slide, and aim into the fire pit.

I exhale and squeeze the trigger, the subsequent soft pop and kickback shifting my shoulders slightly. A briquette or burned piece of wood shatters with the impact. I glance at Hisao, watching intently.

“Would you like to?” I ask, eyebrow raised to him as I swing the Glock around and hold it by the barrel, pistol grip towards Hisao. He looks at it warily but reaches out. He then looks up at me.

“Are you going to smack me in the nose if I grab that?” He asks, maybe rightly so, and I can’t help but laugh.

“No, Hisao, I’m not going to smack you. Stand up though.” I smile softly and he does so. I offer the airsoft gun out again and he wraps his hand around the grip. “Finger along the slide, not on the trigger.”

“R-Right.” He says, holding the Glock in his hand as I stand to the side of him. He seems to test the weight of it in his hand and raise his arm with it in his hand. “It’s lighter than the light guns at the arcade…”

“Oh yeah, those things are heavy as balls. Stand to, Nakai! Wide stance, support your hand, aim toward the fire pit.” He follows my instructions then looks over to me. I step over and only have to adjust it slightly. Not bad, maybe playing Time Crisis or whatever taught him something. “Put your finger on the trigger and squeeze, don’t pull.”

He nods and does as I instruct. He fires and the ball bearing buries itself into the dirt around the firepit. The kickback surprises him and he looks at the gun in his hand.

“I don’t like this, Molly.” He says, stiff as a board. “Can you take this, please?”

“No problem, mate. I don’t particularly like them, either.” I place a hand around the barrel and Hisao relaxes his grip, shaking his hands out as he watches me engage the safety and remove the magazine again.

“But you know how to use one?”

“I’m a military brat. Dad was strict and didn’t quite leave the military training out of the home.” I take a seat at the desk while Hisao returns to his chair. “Dad is Indian, born and raised in the UK. Mum is Japanese, NATO combat medic. They met when he did a rotation at a NATO base.” I explain, taking care with the gas well before beginning the disassembly.

“Wow. My parents are pretty ordinary by comparison…”

“But I bet you didn’t have to move around every couple years, eh?”

“No… You must have been to some interesting places though.”

“Some. Japan is the latest. Hopefully the last if Mum gets her way. We moved here for safety after…” I trail off but can’t help looking down at my legs. I’m sure Hisao notices but he doesn’t say anything. “But, as you can tell, I’m not exactly the Japanesiest. It’s been difficult to adjust.”

“I kinda get that.” Hisao looks at me and, fair play to him, he doesn’t look at me any differently than he has any other student. Maybe because we’re all so freaky that my skin colour is the least freaky thing about me. “But, if it’s worth anything, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Ha! Even though I keep dragging you into trouble?”

“If there’s trouble; I’d rather be close to you than lost in the crowd. You know what you’re doing.” Hisao’s eye move to my hands as I pull the slide apart and remove the spring around the barrel.

“I really don’t, Hisao… Look at Kenny. Kenji.” I sigh, focussing on the problem in front of me while remembering my previous relationship problems.

“I’m gonna guess he wasn’t always… Kenji. What was he like as Kenny?” Hisao asks gently, curiously. I see his expectant eyes and I guess I owe him something of an explanation.

“The same but different, if that makes any sense?” I offer, watching Hisao shake his head. “I transferred in like you did, early into the second year but late enough to be behind on things. New school, new disability, same as you.”

“I bumped into Kenny at the library. He was sweet. Nervous like a deer but clever as owt. As anything. We talked for a while, got to know each other…” I keep working, using my hands helps me organise my thoughts.

“Shame I couldn’t have met that guy. I’ll take shy weirdo over possibly dangerous weirdo.”

“I’m a ‘possibly dangerous weirdo’ - you know that, right?” I chuckle, drawing the same from Hisao. “Kenny was weird but he only started acting really weird after we…”

“He was pretty anaemic at the best of times. I tried to feed him up but I was busy that day so I didn’t remind him to eat. After we… Y’know… He was pretty worn out.” I explain, remembering how Kenji was pretty good natured about the whole thing initially.

“But things changed when one of his other friends got into his ear. Another transfer kid who was part of the Student Council. Lelouch Lamperouge.” I can’t hide the venom in my voice describing him.

“Lelouch Lamperouge…” Hisao mutters thoughtfully, piecing things together before turning his nose up. “And I thought the surname was pretentious enough.”

“He’s from South Africa and he’s a racist wanker. I swear his aphasia diagnosis was just a way for him to get away with saying shit… Like people who fake Tourette’s just to swear.” I sneer a little, remembering the look on his face when I first introduced myself to the class…

“He was always saying shit about me but would cry innocent when I called him on it and because he was on the Student Council; Shizune went to bat for him.”

“Explains why you’ve got a problem with her and Misha…”

“Oh, I don’t have a problem with Misha. She’s a sweetheart. Shizune, on the other hand… Let’s just say I think anyone who wants power like she does shouldn’t have it.”

“I have noticed your… disdain for authority.” Hisao smirks a little.

“What can I say?” I chuckle, pulling the plastic casing in half. “You grow up in a strict household, you become a bit of an anarchist.”

“And I’m gonna guess that fed into Lamperouge somehow convincing Kenji that you were a feminist succubus or something.” Hisao sums it up pretty succinctly and I nod solemnly.

“I don’t know how he turned Kenny on me like he did but I know it was him… Kenny said I was making him weak, that I was the reason he felt weak and tired all the time. When I told him he was just anaemic, he called me a liar, a succubus, and some other colourful terms before he slammed the door in my face. I tried to talk to him after but he just wouldn’t listen…” I sniff loudly, trying to keep my emotions in check but I end up looking at Hisao softly when he places a hand on mine.

“That’s fucked up. I’m sorry, Molly.”

“It’s not the worst thing Lamperouge did… But story time’s over for the day.” I clear my throat and stand up from the desk, the airsoft gun now in a dozen pieces. “You don’t have to stick around for the rest of this, I can handle it.”

Hisao stands up in turn, taking a few steps towards me. He reaches over and picks up a half dozen components at random, shooting me a smile “I’ll take these and ditch them over there and we can be done in half the time.”

Without giving me a chance to argue, he moves far away from me and sets about his task. We. I smirk, watching him kick some dirt loose and drop the barrel spring in. I take the rest of the pieces and start to look for hidey-holes or divots large enough to hide parts in. It takes around five minutes before we meet back at the desk, both a little dirtier than we began.

“All done.” Hisao grins, dusting his knees and hands.

“Thanks, Hisao…” I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. I’m exhausted but we still have to trek back down the hill to school. I gesture for him to follow as I turn and head back to the path that leads to the main one through the woods.

“I know you said story time was over but there was one last thing I wanted to ask you.” Hisao pipes up, walking side-by-side with me on the way back rather than trailing behind. “What does ‘meh-reb-emu’ mean?”

“It’s ‘merebimur’, for starters.” I chuckle before explaining further. “But it’s one of the Latin mottos of the Light Dragoons, a British cavalry regiment.”

“So that’s why Kenji knew it… But what’s it mean? Like, in Japanese.” Hisao ponders aloud as we reach the crossroads between the Boys’ and Girls’ Dorms. I turn to face him, tired but thankful for the company. I give him a sincere smile then initiate a platonic hug. He hesitates for a second before returning the gesture, squeezing me tightly and patting my back.

“It means ‘We Shall Be Worthy’, mate.” I answer as I disengage, offering up my fist for a bump.

“Merebimur…” He ponders before pounding my fist with his own. “I’ll try to remember that.”

“Good lad. Make sure to text Ikuno, will you? She’s probably got a right mardy on but if you explain you were in some trouble, I’m sure she’ll understand.” I encourage him to mend whatever sort of rift there is more for my sake than his even though Ikuno will more than likely forget all about it after a day, at most.

“Will do. Say, if you ever want to hang out… Without there being trouble, I mean…”

“There’s always trouble when I’m involved, Hisao.” I cross my arms cockily and he laughs, ruefully rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sure… But if you ever want to go to the Shanghai…”

“I’ll let you know. Off you pop.” I respond with a smile and a nod towards the Boys’ Dorms. He waves, turning toward his dorms as I call out to him. “And text Ikuno!”

I hear his affirmative response before I turn to head home, emotionally exhausted. As I roll my neck and shoulders, replaying the day’s events, I realise the one good thing to come out digging up more than I wanted to… I have more laundry to do.

Molly is so delightfully British that I swear the coffee I'm drinking has turned into tea!

I love the more action oriented take on Molly's character in both parts. KS is overall sorely lacking in someone who really (and loudly) pushes the social (and sometimes physical) boundaries... perhaps Emi fills that role the closest, but even so, the conflicts between characters, if there are any to begin with, are generally quite subdued and involve the sparring of words than with weapons.

A gun-toting, prosthetic-wearing badass is something I didn't know I needed more of...

This story is very layered. It might be a start for something very big and interesting.

Kudos, Sharp-O!

I'm glad people still love Punch Girl Molly! I do have a third act in mind so look forward to that whenever I'm putting off Flutter again