April 7th, allegedly.
Holy shit.
Had she said that out loud? No?
“Holy shit,” Kanna mumbled. Her shock was blessedly short-lived though, and before the ballistic skateboard even made landfall she retrieved the tiny, weathered digital camera from her pocket. Quick as a flick she managed to snap a picture of the poor moron—was that the Sakaguchi brother? Figures—while he was still reeling from the blow.
She checked the little display screen and bit back a grin. Action shot. Minimal blur. Good stuff. When she heard Shiori and the Olympian Ogre mutter about things getting “crowded,” she waited patiently until she heard footsteps and took another picture of them walking away from their miserly victim.
Oh, shit, right. Ken.
Once the coast was only just clear, she scrambled out from her corner without even a second thought for her mutilated sandwich. Lunch was temporary, violence made headlines. She ran over to Ken, still laid out in a daze, and snapped her fingers in his face.
“Hey, whoa, Sakaguchi—you good? Hey, how many fingers—hold on,” she said. The board had hit him square, and already an ugly bruise was forming around the split skin around his nose and beneath his eye. She took him by the chin and gently turned his head to one side, leaned back and snapped a picture, then patted him gently on the cheek. “How many fingers am I holding up?” she asked, but with one hand in a cast and the other full of camera, she wasn’t holding up any. She took another picture. His nose was running with enough blood to stain both his shirt and the pavement. “Man, lookit all this. Wow. Thank god for capillaries, huh? You’ll be fine, probably. Just don’t tilt your head back.”
Satisfied with her glamour shots, Kanna sprang back up to her feet and searched after the departed delinquents. She’d seen the direction they’d gone, and there were only so many places for them to go that weren’t back inside. An alley between the buildings, the alcove of dumpsters, maybe the old sports shed.
“Yun!” she called back to the corner, nudging Ken’s leg with her foot. “Hey, Yun! Get a teacher or somethin’, poor guy’s bleedin’ out here!”
Conscience clear, Kanna hastily scurried off. Time was of the essence, and there was no telling what those two would get up to next. Where did you go from assault? Arson? Murder? Truancy? She’d get her answers sooner than she thought, because no sooner had she passed the dumpsters did she catch sight of them amidst the trees around the sports shed.
Oh, jackpot. From Blowing Smoke to Blowing Off Steam? Puff Puff Smash? Some pun about skateboards and cigarettes that she'd figure out later? The articles practically wrote themselves.
Kanna hunched, using the trees for cover, and snapped one or two more of them lingering near the shed. Dark, murky, but still good enough quality for the page. She’d blur Shiori thoroughly first, of course, but Totsuka would be lucky to get a black bar over his eyes. If they went inside, she could try and get a few pictures through the window. The photos would be blurry, but guerilla shots like that could really bring a piece together.
She waited, watching, camera ready. Her rabbit heart kept thumping wildly, but her hands were still as stone.
