Wowee, he used to go to Pick-Land? Yeah, his grandparents had definitely lived around here for a long time. It was actually kinda sweet to hear him bring it up. That was the second time he brought up his grandmother, too. Look at that, having a soft spot for his grammy. She used to do the same with the grandma she actually liked years ago, but somehow thinking that this giant of a man was once a little boy happy to pick fruit was actually adorable. She supposed despite the circumstances being less than ideal, it brought up a nugget of joy for Totsuka to go down memory lane.

Totsuka wasn't done surprising her, however. He brought up bringing him along to the cafe. Either he was super bored or maybe he was open to trying out new things. Considering the cafe was something that really only flourished recently, she figured there wasn't any harm in taking him there. As she rummaged through her pockets for her phone, she mused that if there was some semblance of interest, she was definitely feeding into it. She kinda sorta doubted it, chalking up most of his comments as just wanting to get under her skin.

"The only people I have on my shitlist are the Newspaper Club. Soon as I get my hands on those little weasels, it's all over for them," She reminded him as she brought out her phone. "What's your number so I can text you on the weekend?"

"You're being surprisingly merciful for a violent delinquent. Shouldn't you be busting down their mailboxes or something?" Ryusei asked, although it was more of a rhetorical to stall for time while he fished his phone out of his back pocket. He hadn't had much use for the damn thing in times recent—aside from a few cordial texts to his mother and the odd phone call to gramps, there was virtually no reason for him to even have it. Sure, he could have tried keeping in touch with his friends back in Kobe, but he wasn't making the trip back there any time soon. It would just be awkward to exchange meaningless nothings in a vain attempt to maintain some kind of long distance friendship. It was almost funny, to have what barely passed as a good mood to be soured by something as simple as pulling out a phone, but that was just the state he found himself in.

Lost connections be damned, he raffled off his number shortly thereafter, and made sure to ask for Shiori's in return; he couldn't let her have all the power when it came to making contact, after all. Once he had received the required digits and punched them into his phone under the flattering title of 'Firecrotch', he slipped the device right back from whence it came. Maybe it was all the talking that was getting to him, but sitting around on a much too small swing in the middle of nowhere was making him stir crazy. He kicked up off the ground, putting himself back on two feet with one swift lunge. As he thrust his arms into the air and stretched them to void himself of tension, he spoke again.

"I'm gonna lose my mind if we sit here whining all day. You got anything left to do? Or should we start walking home?"

Merciful? Totsuka was probably the type to run around looking for his prey like some kind of cheetah, but Shiori was a patient predator, more akin to a tiger. There were probably better comparisons to be made, but it didn't matter. While she wouldn't turn down the chance for some destruction of property, she knew she wouldn't be satisfied until she got her hands on the mastermind behind the article. Besides, Totsuka said it himself--she was violent, not destructive. There was a difference.

Her eyes were focused on her phone, fingers hovering over what she would put his contact name as. Most of her contact names were traits she assigned to the people they belonged to, but 'Annoying Ass' was already taken by her mother. Then again, they just had a pleasant conversation, so he wasn't a total ass. Settling on 'Hot Ass' as a pseudo-compromise that no one would know but her, she stuffed her phone back into her pocket as she thought of what to do next. Walking around town seemed like a dull idea, but she also didn't feel like hopping on a bus to Kagoshima, either.

Taking one last inhale of her cigarette, she spotted a student with a cast walking over--wait a fucking minute. Was that Nakano? Shiori almost did a double-take, but as she neared, she called out to them. Well, well, well, looks like she knew exactly what she would be doing now.

Finishing her cigarette, the redhead let it drop to the ground, stomping on it as she marched forward. She exhaled as she approached the weasel, eyes darkened. "Nice job with the blur, dipshit," She stated as she snatched the other girl's collar. There wasn't a moment of hesitation before she outright headbutted Nakano, making sure she had a good grip before she would start yelling. "Fucking everyone knew it was me right away! By the time I'm done with you, you're gonna have to type out those articles of yours with your feet!"

Fate was a funny thing. Sometimes it could be cruel, orchestrating events so that on your very first day, with your very fresh start, things align to see you plastered all over some shitty school paper. Marked as a pariah for the rest of the year over one little outburst. But, then it could be hilarious. Like how it was right now. How in the hell did that little twerp think it was a good idea to approach them? He hadn't even had the chance to so much as say a word before Shiori went bounding over at the pint sized reporter, who he recalled as the little voyeur perched behind the dumpsters.

Perhaps it was best he said nothing; the redhead's yelling was sure to drown out whatever poison he wanted to spit the girl's way to begin with. He watched with vague interest as the delinquent drove her forehead into the other girl's face, reaching down with one arm to fish the yet unopened pack from Shiori's bag. He cracked the plastic surrounding it, peeling it off just enough to expose the box so he could fish out one of the cylinders within. Maybe not good manners to open a second before the first was done, but he was almost positive Shiori would finish both packs before next Friday anyway, so he felt little guilt as he stuck one of the cigarettes between his lips. He tossed the pack back into her bag, only then meandering over to where the two girls were grappled.

"I distinctly remember telling you not to do whatever the fuck it was you were doing," He piped as he came to a stop a few feet away, digging his lighter free from his other pocket. He cupped his hand over the tip of his evening vice as the flames sparked up and set it alight, pulling wisps of smoke through the filterless tube to help the ember stick. "But it looks like you didn't listen. You that eager to lose another arm?"

He exhaled as he spoke, a cloud of harsh vapor drifting about his field of view as he glanced down at the would-be reporter. His gaze then drifted to the much taller hoodlum who had been his companion for the day. He almost felt bad about watching them tussle. Almost. But when he remembered Nakano was the reason he'd spent the last four days busting his hump at the gym and at home, well, he suddenly felt that the welt between her eyes wasn't quite karma enough.

"You can keep hittin' her, you know. I think I'd flatten her if I took a swing, so get in a few for me."

Shiori was all too used to the rapid-fire 'wait' spewing from Nakano's mouth, and typically it was met with a closed fist. But Nakano kept talking, surprising her a little. She was still pretty energetic considering the welt quickly forming on her forehead and even went so far as to release her arm. The redhead's fury was still firing on strong, but for whatever reason, she listened. If this was Nakano's idea of calming her down, then the reporter was desperately lacking in social skills. It was also one of the dumbest things she heard--the only reason they got in the spotlight and punished in the first place was because of what she wrote!

"So let me get this straight--you thought you could get out of a beatdown by blackmailing me?" She asked her. "Let me tell you, this isn't one of your brighter ideas."

She held on tight--no way was she letting her go, albeit she did lower her hand a touch so the midget wasn't fidgeting so much, right hand raised and ready to punch down.

Accent? The fuck did she mean accent? That was the pot calling the kettle black. He couldn't tell which offended him more, the egregiousness of her own butchered speech—was she from fucking Fukushima or something?—or the way she incessantly decided to show it off. Talk talk talk talk fucking talk. From the very second Shiori had laid hands on her collar the damn girl wouldn't shut the fuck up. Maybe he could have understood it, the panic of somebody facing down someone who could break them like a particularly flimsy stick, if it was just panicked pleading. But she wasn't here to plead for mercy. She was here to stir up more shit! Acting like she was doing them a favor, trying to spin the story in her favor. Oh, she might not have been a journalist yet, but she had the demeanor down pat. A slimy little parasite, looking to squirm its way out of the consequence of a good feeding.

He could practically feel the vein in his forehead throb as he listened and listened, the cigarette he had so gingerly plucked earlier hanging from his lips limp as he stared in a mixture of indignity and disbelief. When it became clear she had finally finished with her pitch, he reached up and seized it, took a deep, full breath that saw damn near a quarter of it flare to life then dissipate into ash, then held for a precious moment. He savored that moment, the calming buzz, helping cool his own burning temper to embers before he released it all in one long, drawn out stream.

Then, Yun arrived.

"Shut the FUCK up, Mashida!" Ryusei practically boomed, his anger with ever more ferocity as he jabbed the cigarette accusingly in his classmate's general direction. This wasn't about him, and it was a damn good thing it wasn't, or his fucking viewers would be receiving a thorough exploration of his colon. He then whirred back towards Kanna, cigarette trailing smoke as he pointed it at her.

"You too. You, you I don't like. Not at all. It's bad enough your dumb ass decided to ruin my fuckin' reputation day one of the school year. But then you show up trying to sell it to me like you did me a favor? The only person you did a favor for was yourself. I'm sure you or your club cronies have some bullshit excuse cooked up, 'oh, you deserved it, you needed to be punished' or 'poor Sakaguchi deserved justice'. Shit not even you believe. You don't care about exposing the truth, or justice, or whatever the fuck coat of paint you put on it to attract freshmen. You're a fuckin' vulture, looking for carrion to pick at 'til it's clean. You come here, and instead of just taking your fucking lumps for doing what you know was messed up," He thrust the smoking shaft at her a few more times as he emphasized his words, throwing ash all about the place as he did, "You try to worm your way out of an ass kicking by spinning what you were already gonna do to us like you're cutting us a break. I guaran-fucking-tee that regardless of whether or not you leave here with all your teeth, you'll be outside that club room, taking creep shots, covering the matches and putting whatever title you think will sell your shitty little paper all over them."

Perhaps realizing he had been doing exactly what he had lambasted her for doing in his mind just moments prior, he stopped his tirade to take another deep draw from the cancer stick between his fingers. Another cooling rush, although one he didn't let linger for as long, spewing smoke as he continued rather than give her a single inch to wriggle further during his exhale.

"You should be grateful, for the first time in your sad little life, for that hole between your legs. Because it's the only reason you aren't picking your teeth out of the mulch right now, you understand?" It was a rhetorical question. He had made peace with the fact that his threats weren't going to do much to deter her—he had not a single doubt in his mind that the cast she sported had been well earned, and despite its presence, she still went on to push her luck.

"A fate, I should note," He turned a second time, this time back to Yun, his cigarette swaying in the surfer's general direction animatedly as he continued to talk, "That you will not be spared if I catch so much of a fucking whiff of you filming this. I only hit Sakaguchi once. He got off light compared to what I'll do to you."

Whatever Nakano was selling, Shiori wasn't buying. Unfortunately for her, the redhead couldn't possibly give less of a crap about the club she was trapped in. It sucked to have to be the one wiping down sweaty mats and gloves and having to be the one to lug around the equipment for people she didn't even want to be around. And it definitely blew donkey dick that she had to be around fucking Kei voluntarily. If she was told the Boxing Club burned down tomorrow, her only regret would've been that she wasn't able to light her cigarette from the flames. She could probably come up with more expressions on how little she cared but that basically summed it all up.

Totsuka then blew the fuck up. Once again, it was surprising to see the burst of emotion, but that was all the clearance she needed to carry on. "I'm good with the easy way," She uttered, lifting Nakano's collar up.

As she was about to swing, however, an outsider's voice his her ears. Great, an audience. If she remembered correctly, that dude was their classmate. Machida? Mishima? Whatever. As she was about to bark at them to fuck off, however, she noticed the phone he had in his hand. So this was Nakano's plan? Lull her into a false sense of security so that she'd let her guard down? Unfortunately for the brunette, seeing their classmate only enraged her further.

Shiori yanked Nakano towards her and promptly drove her kneecap into Nakano's gut, tossing her aside and leaving her for the moment as she turned her attention to Machida. She had every intention of smashing that phone into a million pieces. Sprinting forward with an impressive speed, she lunged forward with her fist drawn back, throwing the first punch straight into his cheek. She grabbed his jacket sleeve and made an attempt to wrestle his phone out of his grip.

"Give me that if you know what's good for you!" She shouted at him, one hand gripping his arm and the other doing what it could to yank the phone away.

It took more effort than it should have to finally, finally get the phone out of Machida's hand. Shiori paused her assault long enough to look at the stream, but she wasn't sure what she was looking at. A few presses revealed that there was no video or photos at least. She had half a mind to bash his face with the phone, but as she looked down at Machida, she stopped. She wasn't necessarily calm, but the true subject of her ire was where she wanted her rage to go. She stood, dropping his phone on the ground, albeit she didn't let Machida get away with just that before one last, swift kick.

She looked around for Nakano, realizing too late that the weasel ran. Fuck, maybe she should've ignored Machida. She could hear what sounded like a click in the distance. Probably more pictures taken. But as the adrenaline died down, she felt like she was waking up. She definitely had handled the situation entirely wrong, but at the same time, she didn't know what else to do. If Totsuka calling Nakano out didn't deter her, what else would? At least breaking her good hand might've stalled it, but was there any actually stopping her?

Shiori stared off into the distance for a moment, a cold washing over her. Her hands hurt. The cigarettes in her pocket were probably smashed. It was weird, it wasn't like she thought Nakano didn't have it coming, but she just felt weird. "...sorry. I let her get away," She mumbled out an apology to Totsuka.

Ryusei hadn't honestly expected Shiori to throw herself at Machiba with such ferocity—wasn't he supposed to be the impulsive one? Sure, the kid had strolled up on them in the middle of a confrontation waving his phone around and declaring he'd call the police, but usually he at least gave people a warning before he proceeded to pummel them into the dirt. He supposed her paranoia was well founded enough, considering the front facing camera, and the fact only days earlier they had been victim of an unwanted series of creep shots. Taken by Nakano, who he only realized was no longer restrained a precious few seconds after the girl had made her mad dash to get away.

"You little cunt——"

He considered, briefly, running her down, or maybe just grabbing a nearby rock to bean her in the ass with. But to what end? Threats of violence and broken bones didn't seem to deter her. He'd have to find a way to hurt her elsewhere. If he didn't, he'd have to put up with her incessantly stalking him both inside and outside of school, and if his own disciplinary record was anything to go by, trying to involve any kind of authority would probably just see her promoted to head of the journalism club. As he ruminated on how to handle the Nakano issue, Shiori seemed to come to her senses, and came wandering over to him, looking bizarrely pathetic for someone who had just floored two of her classmates without too much in the way of resistance.

"It's fine. Whatever message you were trying to send wasn't gonna land with her anyway," He admitted, taking a last drag from his cigarette, "Still, woulda been nice to get a few more licks in before she scurried off. Karma, and all that."

With the last of his cigarette burning precariously close to his fingers, he flicked the still lit butt at Yun, and tucked his hands into his pockets. It was probably best to head home and get himself washed up before the old man realized he was back. Plus, the vibe had been thoroughly killed by their unwanted visitors, so he doubted there'd be much in the way of jovial discussion with his ginger companion. He turned to go, but as he did so, he spotted something in the grass. A pair of glasses, tragically left behind during their owner's hurried retreat. His initial instinct was to step on them. Just shatter them in a petty attempt to hurt the would-be journalist, in whatever small way he could. Glasses were expensive, and this town was pretty backwater. Maybe her folks would struggle to replace them, choosing between what few luxuries they could afford in this town and their daughter's sight.

As he lifted his foot to bring financial strain upon the Nakano household, he got a better idea. Instead, he reached down and gingerly scooped them up, folding the still outstretched arms inwards. They were of more use to him in tact, especially if he could pull off what he was thinking of. As he tucked them into his pocket, the teen turned back to Shiori.

"C'mon, I'll walk you home." He said, gesturing towards the park's exit with his neck before looking towards the only remaining interloper, "And don't you fuckin' follow, numb nuts, or I really will ass fuck you with that phone."

The walk back had been quiet for the most part. She wished she could say that she enjoyed it, but she just felt tired. The rest of the night was dull and uneventful; she had dinner, Ichika chatted her ear off about some girl she befriended, and then she showered and went to bed. Her hand felt less sore by the time she curled up in her blankets, but despite being tired, she couldn't fall asleep right away. She kept remembering Totsuka ripping Nakano a new one and the girl's lack of a response. Was that gonna end up being what the rest of the year was like? She was already sick of Boxing Club, if she got volunteered for any other bullshit she was going to drop out.

Letting out a sigh, she fished for her phone, wincing at the brightness as she opened it. Tomorrow was Saturday and there wouldn't be any classes, at least, so one less thing to worry about. Ariyoshi would probably premiere the new flavor of the week. She hoped it would have coconut in it. As the thought crossed her mind, her fingers were already at work, tapping out a text to 'Hot Ass':

Meet me at my place tomorrow @ 1
We're going for some boba

Short, sweet, and to the point. She closed her phone screen and drifted off, letting herself get swathed by the blankets. Maybe her aunt would let her keep it whenever Ichika would move back. Dozing off, she fell asleep for some hours before she heard her phone beep. Despite the grogginess, she could tell someone was trying to call her. She kept her eyes closed as she brought the phone to her ear.?

"Hello?" She mumbled out a greeting.

"Ah, Shiori-chan! Good, good, you're awake!" Her mother's cheerful and heavily drunk voice blasted through the speaker. "I'm going to pass by, I can't find my keys to the house...so I'll borrow yours, okay?"

Ugh. Shiori let out a heavy sigh as she sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Did you check your purse?" She asked.

"Do you think I'm that stupid? Just get your keys and wait for me at your door," She huffed, ending the call before Shiori could protest.

She did let out about a dozen swears before dragging herself out of bed. Taking a second to try to wake up some, she shuffled over to her desk, rummaging through the drawers for her old keys. Fortunately, she was somewhat organized, finding them quickly. She wished she could say she was quiet enough so that she wouldn't wake up Ichika, but she was so sleepy that she was probably louder than she thought. Oh well, she would apologize if Ichika complained about it.

Plopping herself on the floor with keys in hand, she stifled a yawn as she rested against the wall. Whether she had dozed off and time passed or it was some form of mercy from the universe, a loud bang against the door told her that her mother had arrived. There was an intruding thought that told her to ignore it and go back to bed, but she'd bet it would make things worse. So she clumsily got to her feet, unlocking the door and sliding it open, blinking at the woman swaying in front of her.

The woman was dressed to the nines, her little black dress hugging her tight and leaving little to the imagination. The amount of cleavage it had was shocking, if only because it left people wondering if her assets were going to pop out of the straps any moment now. Her stockings had a small hole in them--likely from walking too close to a bush--and her too-high heels sparkled from the hallway light. The makeup she wore looked like it belonged to a single woman rather than the wife and mother she was, her expression light and cheery.

"Ah, sorry, sorry, I'm bothering you at a bad hour, hm?" She commented, words barely slurring together.

Shiori couldn't help but stare. So she was outright just going out and leaving her dad home alone, eh? Not that she was surprised; Himawari Chisuzu loved to party it up and was more than happy to pretend to be a single woman. Shiori would be disappointed if she actually cared. For now, her goal was to get her to leave as quickly as possible. "Yeah. I was asleep," She couldn't help her irritated response.

She pouted. "You should be happy to see your Mama," She whined. "It's already been two weeks!"

"Yeah, well, I'm busy."

At that, the woman laughed. "Busy? Busy with what, lounging around the house doin' nuthin'?" She asked, giggling.

Shiori crossed her arms. She didn't really have any interest in continuing this conversation. "Just busy. Here," She offered the keys. "Go home."

Clicking her tongue, her mother snatched the keys away. "I can't believe you're pushing me out already. You didn't even offer me the couch!" She snapped, angry as she raised her voice. "Are you forgetting who raised you all these years? All the things I sacrificed for you?!"

There it was, the alcohol fueling whatever bullshit thoughts she had. Unfortunately, Chisuzu was also practically screaming at this point and was causing a mess. "Fucking--Ma, shut it!" Shiori hissed. "It's late and people are sleeping!"

"So?! If I want to be loud, I can!" She continued yelling. "Do you think people would be happy to hear you treating your mother this way, huh?! I didn't raise you to be this disrespectful! I should wake up the whole neighborhood and tell them how my own daughter is treating me! They'd all agree with me, too!"

Shiori glared at her mother. "Then go tell them and let me sleep!" She snapped.

"Fine! See if I come see you again!" Chisuzu huffed, stomping off.

Shiori didn't bother watching her leave, instead seizing the chance to close and lock the door while she could. A headache was slowly forming, but she just couldn't care anymore. If she got herself riled up every time her mom tried to start some shit, she'd have gone crazy a long time ago. Then again, her anger issues were probably rooted in that. But that was everyone else's problem. Her only solace was that all was quiet as she dragged herself back to bed, all too happy to let herself drop back into the softness. She fell asleep quickly, ignoring the thought in the back of her head wondering why her mom bothered to come see her if all she did was scream at her back home.

Inhaling sharply, Shiori let out a groan. Part of her thought last night was some sort of nightmare, but her skewed blankets told her that it very much happened. Whatever, it was morning, and she needed to get up and get dressed. She reminded herself of the boba tea waiting for her later on as she dragged herself to the bathroom, yawning loudly. Brush teeth, shower, get dressed. A cold shower would definitely wake her up. Once her feet hit the floor, though, the warmth of her bed beckoned to her like a siren's song, tempting her, reminding her that it was the weekend and she could sleep in some more.

Alas, if she wanted boba, she'd have to get ready.

Fortunately, the shower woke her up, and she went from sleepy to relatively neutral by the time she stood by her closet. Yesterday's events had basically erased her memory of the fact that she essentially told Totsuka they were going out. But not like that. They were just...going out. Together. Alone. They had basically hung out together all week, so it definitely wasn't like that at all. And yet, as she eyed her options, she found herself second-guessing her choices. If she put too much effort, Totsuka would definitely notice and definitely get the wrong idea. But if she didn't put enough effort, then...then what? He'd get the wrong idea anyway?! And then?!

Realizing she was working herself up, Shiori took in a deep breath. Okay, she was overthinking. But it's fine, a shirt and some jeans on a temperate day was fine. She nodded to herself as she searched through her clothes, laying out her choices on her bed. A blouse was probably better than a t-shirt for where they were going. The cafe was a little on the bougie side, so dressing up a little was a good compromise. Her good jeans were there, ready and inviting, but her eyes kept returning to the skirt she plucked out. It was something her aunt had bought her some time ago, girly and lacey and flowy. But it wasn't something she really wore, so it kinda got buried in her closet. But this was a good chance to wear it, right? A skirt and blouse were fine. She was a young teenage girl, it wasn't that weird, right?

But as she went with her gut and tried on the outfit, she realized that it was weird. She looked like she was dressed for a date! It was too bad, too, she actually kinda liked the frilly skirt. She pursed her lips in dissatisfaction, crossing her arms. Ugh, why was she overthinking this?

"You look cute!" Ichika squealed.

The sudden arrival of her cousin caused Shiori to jump, completely forgetting about her housemate. She whirled around, her hands covering her chest as if she was exposed. "I--What?!" She stuttered out a response. "No, this is--ugh, never mind." She gave up, immediately ripping off the skirt.

"Oh, noooo, don't change!" She insisted. "It looks good, I promise!"

Shiori scowled at her. "Yeah, that's the problem," She muttered. "It's just not my style. I don't really like lacey stuff like this."

Ichika paused, staring at Shiori for a second. Before she could ask what she was staring at, however, Ichika threw her hands forward. "Wait! I have just the thing!" She said, speeding out of her bedroom. She came back in almost record time, brandishing some kind of jeans--wait, no, it was a jean skirt? "I think it might be a little big on you, but you can wear a belt."

Shiori's shoulders slumped in defeat as she looked at Ichika's sparkling expression. She really, really wanted her to try it on, didn't she? The redhead reluctantly took her up on her offer, hoisting the skirt on. Admittedly, Ichika was right; she didn't look nearly as girly as before and felt a lot more comfortable. She was, however, miffed at their size difference. Ichika must have been carrying a secret dump truck back there. Ugh, she had a chest and a butt? Here Shiori was, actually confident in her own hips, but apparently, Miss Hourglass over here was living it up, having the sort of body other girls would kill for. There truly was no justice in the world.

The brunette didn't seem to notice Shiori's glare, instead of busying herself with looping a belt through the loops. "Perfect! Oh, I love it!" She sighed happily. "Okay, I think a ponytail would look good, it'll reveal a little bit of nape and everything!"

"Wh--nape, are you--wait--ow!"

Ichika was stronger than she looked as she promptly manhandled Shiori's hair, happily humming to herself. By the time she was finished, she added a pair of braids going up into the ponytail. Shiori stared at her reflection, horrified. Oh God, she looked like their date was--their not date was definitely like that.

"And now, for makeup," Ichika announced.

"No," Shiori immediately shut that down. There was absolutely no way she could get away with wearing makeup without Totsuka calling her a clown or something.

"Just a little! Here, look," She whipped out a tube from her pocket. "It'll make your lips pop!"

Shiori let out a sigh, waving her away. "Listen, I appreciate everything else, but I'm not wearing makeup," She dismissed her.

Ichika pouted, though she placed the tube in Shiori's hand. "Just a little bit. Trust me, you won't regret it~" She sang, skipping out of the room.

The redhead let her leave, though she stared down at the tube. Just a little bit, she said. But if she wore makeup, then it was like that. And he would notice. And make fun of her. Or worse, he'd get the wrong idea. Or even worse, he'd have no reaction and then all this was for nothing. Honestly, she couldn't believe how worked up she was getting over all this. It was just boba! She loved boba! Why did it have to get so complicated?!

As she went to place the tube down, however, an impulse took over. She unscrewed the top, pulling out a brush covered in glitter. Oh God, no, there was no way she could put this on and not get laughed at. Well, Ichika said a little, right? Just a little bit. Despite her better judgment, she dabbled a little on her lower lip, trying to remember how her mother did it. That thought alone nearly made her vomit, but the end result was a pair of glossy, shimmery lips. And it looked exactly how she thought it would.

"This was a mistake," She muttered, hastily wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

The sun rose above Utsubyo—although you could hardly tell with the incessant cloud cover—and with it, Ryusei as well. It was damn annoying to be up so early, especially on a Saturday of all things, but a week packed to the brim with both physical labor and emotional strain had left him dog tired. It certainly didn't help that he, predictably, was met with more work when he arrived home. Lugging around top soil and tearing weeds all evening sure as shit wasn't going to help him in the boxing ring for all his grandfather's insistence, but it did drain him of what little energy he had left to give, and after some quick takeout from the local Chinese place, he ended up drifting into to a well-earned sleep hours earlier than normal.

Then the interruption to his rest came, in the form of a text from the girl who had occupied much of his time since his arrival in town. It must have come in just shy of midnight, and he barely remembered reading it before rolling back into his blankets and sheets. A quick glance back at the device confirmed it hadn't just been a vague dream; she wanted to meet up at her house at one. So much for relaxing during his day off. It was all the same anyway, as he doubted his grandfather would just let him laze around the house all day. Having a young back around the place must have lit a flame under the old man's ass, and suddenly there was no end to the number of projects to be accomplished around the aging house that had been his home for as long as Ryusei could remember.

Why the hell his grandparents had bought such a big place was beyond him, especially in retirement. That was usually the time for downsizing, for making things more manageable. Instead, the place was half a god damn castle, complete with inner garden and way too many rooms. He admittedly enjoyed it when he was young—to an apartment dweller from the big city, going out to the countryside felt like visiting a palace with how spacious it was. But now that he was partially responsible for its upkeep, he almost missed the crowded little three bedroom back in Kobe. At least he could fit in the bathtub here.

Something he made sure to take advantage of. Between drills at the club, helping out around the house, and all the walking he needed to do to get anywhere out in the boonies, he was sore, and nothing helped melt away the tension like a good soak. Gramps had undoubtedly gone off to settle whatever affairs he had in town for the morning, so he could spend at least an hour boiling himself like a crab in a much too hot bath. It also gave him a chance to stew in his own thoughts as much as he stewed in the water, contemplating the day to come. He hadn't expected Shiori to take him up on his absentminded little comment so soon. Sure, she had no friends, but she really wanted to spend the weekend with him? They had just spent Friday together, and most of the lunch breaks of the week smoking out in the school parking lot. Then there was club, where they didn't so much interact as simply exist in each other's company.

Hadn't she gotten sick of him? He never made for very good company—even yesterday, he struggled to find anything interesting to say. Maybe she had some vague hope of getting him to pay for her food? Being some chick's meal ticket wasn't exactly on his agenda, especially when they weren't even an item. Of course, that line of thought led to him pondering whether she had gotten the wrong idea with his snarky little comments. They did seem to fluster her pretty thoroughly, which was half the reason he even made them in the first place. But he was the new 'ogre', as he had so kindly heard one of his classmates mutter in the halls. He doubted she'd want to make eyes at someone like him. Hell, half the girls back in Kobe were probably too terrified of him to approach, or reciprocate if he approached. Even his own parents didn't want him anymore; what hope did he have for finding some fairy tale, countryside fling during his exile?

As his thoughts continued to spiral, the joy of the bath was quickly lost. He knew there was a reason he didn't often allow himself to fall into silent contemplation, and it took until he allowed himself to sink into it for him to remember. It always came back to whining, self-deprecating bullshit. It pissed him off! There was shit to be done still, and he had a date to prepare for. Not a date. An outing. He needed to dry off and get ready.

Clothing? He hadn't brought much down with him when he left home. Just a few suitcases. The school had provided uniforms, and he didn't exactly have high hopes for his social life, so there wasn't anything fancy. Aside from his Church clothes, but he wasn't dressing up in his Sunday best for a fucking tea date. Not that it was a date. Still, he didn't want to look like a total bum when he showed up to her place. The girl had a sharp tongue, and he didn't need her mocking him for his choice of street wear. A nice t-shirt, some good jeans, his only pair of sneakers. The hoodie would need to come too; it was his favorite, big and comfortable and looked damn good on him, if he was so bold as to say.

It was only when he looked in the mirror that he realized he had been pondering for at least a couple minutes, and that only pissed him off more. Why did it matter what she thought? It was her idea to go. She was lucky he was putting aside time for her in the first place. A brief stomp off back to his room saw him dressed in record time. Then, it was back to the mirror. He needed to do something with his hair. He had let it grow out the last couple of years, to the point where it reached below his jawline when he left it down and damp as it was now. The school admins hated it, but that was half the point, really. There had been a compromise struck wherein if he kept it up during school hours, he could keep it at that length, and so he had kept it tied back for most of the week. That meant Shiori hadn't ever seen it let down. Did he really wanna leave it like that? It looked like a mop, long and silky but inexplicably wild despite that. Maybe she'd be into that? Or maybe she was one of those girls who liked a tidy man.

He spent another five minutes pulling it back and letting it down before irritation overtook him again. Who even fucking cared?! It didn't matter whether or not she liked his hair, it wasn't a fucking date, and if he had to put an iota more thought into how good he looked, he was going to kick his own ass. He eventually decided on a half-measure, pulled up into a ponytail with some messy locks left to spill out here and there. Messy, but just clean enough to look like he put in effort. Between it and the cold, disinterested eyes that stared back at him from the mirror, there was no way she would get his intentions mixed. Plus, he looked damn good. She'd be lucky if it were a date.

A few spritzes of cologne later and he felt better than he had back in the tub. It was a new day, it was still early, and he had plenty of time to leisurely retrace his steps to the Himawari household. He considered breakfast, briefly, but decided against it. They were going to a cafe, weren't they? He could just get something there. Something to help get the taste of the tea out of his mouth if it ended up sucking. He thumbed a few extra bills from the stack when he returned back to his room, figuring it was best to account for additional expenses. Most teens would have felt blessed to have a surplus of weekly cash on hand, but looking at the wad of paper in his hands only reminded him of what he had lost, and he tossed it back onto the windowsill where it had come, tucking a portion of his nest egg into his wallet for the day. He was ready.

Of course, as was so often the case, his plans hadn't gone off without a hitch. By the time he navigated the halls of his new home and got back out into the main room, his grandfather had returned, sitting at the low table in the center with the daily paper.

"Where you headed?" The older gentleman rumbled, not bothering to look up from his paper as he acknowledged his grandson's presence.

"Out," Ryusei answered tersely, although he thought better of the curtness in his voice after a moment, "Going to have tea with a friend."

"A girl friend." The response was quick to strike Ryusei just where it hurt, and he grimaced at the implication.

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to. I can smell you from over here. It's a girl."

The teen didn't justify that with a response. He hadn't put in any more effort getting ready than he would have with any of his boys. The hell was wrong with smelling good? He didn't even care whether or not she liked it—although he hadn't said a word, the whirl of his internal thoughts undoubtedly fulfilled the old man's ambition, and he could practically feel his grandfather grinning like a devil behind that paper.

"Whatever. I'll be back by dinner." There was an indignity in his tone that betrayed the flush growing on his cheeks, and he could only thank the Utsubyo Chronicle for being so engrossing as to hide that from his grandpa's eagle eyes as he stomped his way through the open shuji and into the yard beyond.



It was a small mercy that Shiori's house was a fair walk from his own. The cool spring afternoon gave him time to cool his head and his cheeks, and by the time he had arrived at the quaint little townhouse she called home, he was back to his usual self, all scowls and glares and bad attitude. Seeing it with the benefit of a full day's sun was interesting enough, as it gave him a better idea of her living situation—his family was in the business of real estate, after all. He knew it wasn't the house she had grown up in, but her aunt must have been pretty well off to afford rent on this place every month without struggling. Maybe she lived in a bigger city, where money came easier, but that only beggared why she would send her daughter out to this place for a school year. Had she done something wrong to warrant it?

He shook his head. He wasn't there for that ginger. He was there for Shiori, and a quick look at his phone informed him that it was getting dangerously close to one o'clock. So he trudged his way through the open front gates and to the door, rapping his knuckles against it to alert those within to his presence.

"C'mon already. I don't got all day."

Ichika was the one to hear Ryusei's knock first. The voice certainly sounded familiar, though she was surprised to hear a male voice. She initially hesitated, though as she heard some footsteps upstairs, she figured it was the polite thing to answer the door. That, and now she was curious. She had initially assumed Shiori was just going out to hang with whatever friends she had, but she naively assumed it would be a female voice. Unless it was actually a date. There was really only one way to find out.

The girl abandoned the dishes in the sink and hopped her way over to the front door. She quickly unlocked and whipped the door open, looking up and up and up and--oh my goodness, it was the transfer student! "Totsuka-kun?" Ichika was in complete shock at this revelation. How did he know where they lived? She couldn't help the quick scan of his outfit, always finding a delight in seeing how people dressed outside of their uniforms. He looked about the same as what she would expect, too. The curiosity quickly turned back to shock, however; was Shi-Shi getting a boyfriend before she did?! She swallowed hard at the thought. No, maybe it was just a hang-out. Just because a boy and a girl were going somewhere didn't necessarily make it romantic, right? Right?!

"Ah...I will get Shi-Shi for you!" She suddenly remembered herself, slowly sliding the door closed so she could quietly freak out without him seeing.

By the time she recovered, however, Shiori had descended the steps. She could see Ichika flailing her arms around, too. What was up with her? She rolled her eyes as she approached her, placing a hand on her hip. "The hell is wrong with you?" She asked her.

Ichika stopped long enough to give her a sad smile. "The world can truly be unjust sometimes..." She stated. "Totsuka-kun is waiting for you."

Did he tell her off or something? She stared as Ichika shuffled over to the side, wary as she opened the door. Just as Ichika said, Totsuka was there and looking as grumpy as ever. It was surprising to see him in something outside of their uniform, but he looked good. Casual. Not too dressed up, but not looking like a bum, either. His shirt was cute with the cat and dog having an arm around each other, though she had to take a second to read it since it was in English. Born to die and...fuck? What? Was she reading that right? Maybe she'd ask him later, she didn't want to stare for too long and give him any weird ideas.

The only problem was that she couldn't tell if he made the effort to look good or if this was how he always looked, making her a little nervous. It didn't take knowing her for too long to know that she was not the type to dress up--she was pretty sure she barely qualified--and she could feel Ichika staring at the back of her head from a distance. Well, whatever the case, he was good to look at, so she wouldn't complain too much.

Whatever the case was, she threw up her hand to greet him. "Yo," She said. Should she compliment him? Say nothing? Oh, God, there was that overthinking again. She could hear Ichika shuffle in place. "Sorry for her, she's uh...excitable."