Tomorrow's Doom A.3/C.24 - Shenanigans

Chapter 23: http://pastebin.com/aEwWqxHE
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Chapter 24 - Shenanigans

Distant chatter rouses me from a heavy slumber, and I find the darkness before my eyes somewhat disconcerting. There's faint light creeping at the edges of my vision, but the back of the couch and the blanket covering my head serve well to keep it at bay. Maybe it's better that way, considering the slight headache thrumming at my left temple. Last night is somewhat of a blur, but I remember the wine, Kenta's bewildered look, Shizune's evasive behavior and... wait, there was something more important than all of that. Hazy images run through my mind as I stare into the darkness and start to notice how warm I feel.

Wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, my arm is asleep, my hair is stuck to my face, and I think there might be a broken spring under the cushion digging into my back. However, I'm on my side facing the back of the couch, so it can't be a broken spring. Groaning a little, I reach behind me to try and find the source of the discomfort, and I get a hand on something that feels like a warm blanket. Running my hand along the solid object, I realize that it's moving slowly up and down and I can hear soft breaths somewhere close behind me.

Wait, that isn't a blanket!

Panic overwhelms me and I throw my hand up, toss the blanket away and roll over to stare, bleary-eyed and shocked, at the sleeping face of my sweater-vested boyfriend. The chattering voices stop suddenly and, realizing their source, I quickly grab the blanket and pull it back over Hisao and myself, hoping they won't notice that I've moved.

“She's awake, I saw her move~!” Amaya's chipper tone leads the footfalls as at least three people step around in front of the couch. Maybe they'll go away if I don't move, but I doubt Amaya will be fooled; she has seen me fake sleeping before.

The blanket is torn away, and I put on my best sleep face, but it's hard not to laugh with people staring at me like this, not to mention having Hisao's hot breath tickling my neck. If I try real hard, maybe I can actually fall asleep in this position, but Tadao's frustrated grunt indicates I won't get that chance.

“Wait~!” Amaya says, apparently to Tadao, “I got a better idea~!”

Oh, that can't be good.

A few seconds pass while I hear some whispering, and giggling, coming from Amaya and someone else; I imagine it's either Kenta or maybe Misha - they both have a rather girlish whispered laugh. Although, I'm certain Misha's booming laughter would have already been beating against my one good eardrum, so I'm pretty sure it's Kenta; it's hard to tell with my good ear stuffed against the cushion. There's a pause and a few more hushed whispers, but then I start to understand their plan as I can feel Hisao getting closer. Someone's finger presses against my chin, and I'm forced to let my face go slack as they're apparently pushing our heads together.

Hisao's limp lips press against mine, which is a somewhat strange sensation by itself, but then I feel his hand being placed on my hip and I nearly lose my composure. Deep within me, there's a voice screaming to just give up the facade and wring the neck of whoever came up with this embarrassing plan; probably Amaya. However, it's not so bad. They can have their amusement at our expense; I'm willing to play the fool for my friends.

“That's perfect~!” Amaya chirps with a giggle, “hold it just like that~!”

Then I hear a camera click and a bright flash beams through my eyelids.

“What the hell!?” I bark, sitting up on my elbow and rubbing my eyes, trying to find the source.

It was probably Kenta.

When my eyes finally adjust, I'm bewildered by the sight before me. Rather than Kenta, it's Yoko wielding the camera, grinning sheepishly. With Hisao blocking my way, and my arm being asleep, I can't make much of a chase, but I do manage to crawl over his sleeping form and fall gracelessly to the floor.

Half-awake, I start crawling toward her, smiling despite my ire. Yoko giggles and backs away a few steps as a pair of feet interrupt my pursuit.

“Morning, Swimderella~!” Amaya chirps, “that should look great in the yearbook~!”

“I'll kill you!” I yell, but it's an empty threat. Yawning the grogginess away, I manage to roll up on my knees, then sit against the couch. Amaya steps over to Yoko, apparently to inspect the picture. Both of them shoot me giddy looks, to which I respond with a half-hearted glare.

Hisao stirs and blinks, apparently wakened by my protest. “What time is it?” he mumbles.

Having no idea myself, I shoot him a crooked smile and reply, “Half past a freckle.”

“It's just after six in the morning,” Tadao remarks.

Hisao groans and rolls over to face me, grumbling, “Aren't we on vacation?”

“There's coffee and some croissants left,” Tadao says, ignoring the question.

Strangely, as I sit beside the couch and lazily look around the room, I realize I'm not really that tired. After the late start yesterday and the early night, I actually feel pretty well-rested. There's still a dull headache over my temple, but the numbness in my arm has faded, and the smell of coffee has started to brighten my expression. Nudging Hisao's leg with my elbow, I slowly stand and stretch.

Turning a tired smile down at him, I reach for his hand and start pulling. He groans in protest, but, after some tugging, I manage to get him up to a sitting position and swing his legs out over the floor. Sitting beside him, I rustle his messy hair and poke his ribs. “You're not sleeping this vacation away, Swooner,” I state, narrowing my eyes at him. “We have a swimming schedule to maintain,” I add with a giggle, “we can't let you get out of shape.” His response is to fall over sideways, groaning as he goes, landing in a heap against the arm of the couch.

“He gets a brief reprieve,” Amaya interjects, “Aiko and I have things to discuss first.”

Spectacular.

Taking me by the hand, Amaya leads me toward the bedrooms without another word. Glancing back, I see Hisao sitting up again, watching us leave with a curious expression, but we're quickly out of sight. While I think I have some idea what she plans to talk about, I'm not going to give anything away this time; she'll have to ask the right questions. Last night's events were going to lead to this conversation one way or another, and postponing it would just make it worse; I'd rather get it out of the way.

Apparently, the bedroom is still occupied by a snoring Misha, so Amaya leads me into the bathroom and closes the door. Almost immediately, her giddy smile turns into uncontrollable giggling. Unsure what all the laughing is about, I lean against the wall and set a bewildered stare on her. Once her fit subsides, she snaps a cold look on me that could wilt a banzai tree; it's startling enough to make me flinch.

“So, how was it?” she inquires, a giddy edge in her voice.

How was what?

My blank expression, and lack of reply, spurns her to iterate on the question. “Was it good? Bad? Did he know what he was doing? Did you-” she stops, seeing she horror on my face, “he didn't hurt you did he?”

She thinks we...?

“What the hell are you talking about?” I demand.

“On the beach, dummy~!” she replies, nudging my shoulder with her elbow, “Kenta told us all~ about how you came back in his arms all sleepy and happy.”

This is not exactly the conversation I was expecting.

“We didn't-” I start mumbling incoherently, “I didn't... He- We-”

Usually I'm better at forming words, even this soon after waking, but I'm so caught off-guard by the apparent direction of the conversation that I can't even put two words together. Amaya's face is screwing up with indignation, but it's really her misinterpretation at fault; or Kenta's, if I understand her source. Anything I may have done, or Hisao may have done, has nothing to do with whatever demented thought process brought her to this conclusion.

Well, maybe it does.

“We didn't do that!” I blurt finally, making sure to maintain eye contact.

She's silent for a few moments, looking like she's ready to dispute my claim, but I think the directness of my statement is working. If there's anything I know about Amaya, it's that she's really good at detecting blatant lies. Usually I can fool her with misdirection, but I'm staring straight into her eyes. The wicked grin she displayed sinks into a contemplative frown as she apparently realizes I'm not being dishonest.

Another thought hits me as I realize there are several other people in the house, all of which would have seen Hisao and I asleep on the couch and perhaps wondered what happened. Amaya will believe me, and I can probably trust Tadao and Kenta to understand my sincerity, but, if everyone thinks the same thing they did, I'm not sure they'll all be quite so forgiving.

Is that what Yoko was giggling about?

Grasping her shoulder to pull her, and myself, back into the conversation, I whisper a difficult question, “Does everyone think that?”

“No,” she replies quickly, “I assumed.” Shrugging, she shoots a look toward the door and whispers, “I may have told a few what I thought, but... if you really didn't-”

“We didn't,” I say firmly.

“Fine, sorry!” she says, “what the heck did happen, then?”

Staring back at her for a few moments, I realize there are a few things I need to recall before I can accurately tell the story. The little headache pounding on my temple isn't helping matters, either. Still, I remember enough to give her the basic outline. “We took a walk,” I explain, “I think I had a dizzy spell and fell on him again,” hearing that makes her grin, “and he carried me back.”

Apparently, judging from the mockingly raised eyebrow, my story doesn't quite meet her expectations. “That's it?” she balks, leaning back and crossing her arms, “sometimes I think you don't deserve to have a boyfriend.”

Her jest hits me strangely, causing me to frown instead of laugh. Somewhere deep in the back of my mind, there's a little gremlin of doubt whispering that what she said is right; I don't deserve a boyfriend. Slumping back against the wall, I can see Amaya's worried look, and I don't want her to worry. “Just a headache,” I remark, assuaging her concern, “little too much wine, I think.”

Giggling, she smiles brightly and remarks, “Tadao spent a couple hours in the bathroom this-morning~!”

“He drank almost a whole bottle, though,” I reply, smirking derisively, “I only had a few glasses.”

“I stopped after one,” Amaya says proudly.

“Yeah, and I ought to know better,” I reply, reaching up to rub my temple.

“Maybe a few aspirin?” she suggests. My raised eyebrow is enough response for her. Shrugging, she points toward the shower. “Shower should help,” she says, opening the door. Heading through it, she turns back and promises, “I'll save you a croissant~!”

“And coffee!” I yell as the door shuts.

“Sure~!” she replies, “and I'll even make sure the Swooner doesn't walk in on you again~!”

Her giggling makes me consider yelling something in response to that, but I hear the bedroom door close before I can think of something appropriate. Chasing after her is an option, but I'm not really worried. Even if she did try, I don't think it's likely Hisao would go along with her designs.

Right?

After the shower, my headache is mostly gone, and a nice breakfast finishes it off soon after. Tadao and Hisao apparently decided to head out for that swim without us, but that gives Amaya and I some alone time with Yoko. Sitting outside around the patio, we prod her for details about last night, but all she's willing to say is that she enjoyed the evening. Amaya tries to get more out of her, but, seeing Yoko getting uncomfortable, I hold her back.

Whatever else they might have talked about, I'm starting to think Yoko has more wrong than just feeling a little like an outcast. As much as I think being included has helped, she remains reticent and somewhat aloof. While I'm sure she really did enjoy spending time with Kenta, I don't think that's even scratching the surface of whatever is really bothering her. Asking her about it with boisterous Amaya around probably wouldn't go well, so I reserve my questions for another time.

I'm worried about her, but I don't quite know why.

When the boys get back, they both decide to head inside and torture Kenta a little. Apparently he drank himself into a stupor and spent half the night hugging a porcelain shrine. Amaya tries dragging me along to watch, but I'm content to spend some quiet time on the patio. As if sensing that I might want to ask her more, Yoko gets up and heads inside shortly after, but I'm fine with that; it can wait.

We'll be heading back to Yamaku by bus sometime after dark, and I want to spend some time doing absolutely nothing. Despite being on vacation, I feel like I've been more stressed about this whole expedition than I was before Tanabata. When we get back, the rest of the week is going to be a series of strenuous days spent cramming for and taking final exams, and I'd rather go into that feeling rested.

Although, with a house full of people, the idea of spending some time alone in the middle of the day is a fleeting dream. Not long after the morning fog lifts, I'm greeted by a distinct, “Wahaha~!” Wearing a giant pair of pink-rimmed sunglasses that seem vaguely familiar, and a long, bright yellow sun-dress, Misha comes bounding down the wooden steps carrying what turns out to be my laptop.

“You promised~!” she reminds me, referencing the conversation we had on the bus, as she pushes the device into my hands. Smirking and shaking my head, I open the directory and boot up the pirated game, handing it to her as the title screen appears.

Watching her play as she lounges in the chair beside me, I find myself amused at how quickly she gets absorbed. Knowing so little about Misha, I probably shouldn't be surprised. Somehow I never thought she'd be into video games, but I'm not going to complain. That loud mouth of hers might actually be effective at getting some of the puffed-up hyper-nerds to shut up while I'm sniping them from afar.

Assuming she'd be interested...

When Shizune comes down to join us, I'm a little apprehensive about whether she'll be annoyed, but she hardly seems surprised. Dressed down in blue overalls with the pant legs rolled up to her knees, and apparently borrowing Naoko's wide-brimmed hat, she sits in the chair on the other side of Misha with her own laptop. Raising an eyebrow at me, she moves to make a comment, but instead just shrugs and sinks into the chair. Putting her feet up, she opens her computer and starts typing.

While Misha repeatedly restarts the game, my curiosity overwhelms me and I get up to go sit by Shizune. From her smirk, I think she knows what I'm about to ask, but I go ahead anyway. [Does she play video games a lot?]

Rolling her eyes a little, she shoots Misha a quick glance before responding, [Before she came to Yamaku, she and her brother did – a lot.]

I didn't know she had a brother.

[You know more than you're telling me,] I sign, giving her a pensive look.

[There isn't much to tell,] she explains, [but it's not my place to say.]

The apologetic shrug she offers is a little cryptic, but I suppose it's not right asking Shizune. Instead of probing for Misha's reasons, I shift gears and start to ask, [I didn't know she liked to play, or I would have-]

Holding up her hand to halt my question, she replies, [She used to get distracted in her studies, so I convinced her to stop, but I don't hold it against her,] she smiles coyly and adds, [or you.]

Not wanting to delve too deeply into just how much she knows about my pointless extra-curricular activities, I let the subject drop. She seems content to continue typing, and I believe what she said about not holding it against either me or Misha. The Student Council room has a whole closet dedicated to board games, and everyone knows most of them were contributed by Shizune. Everyone has their little vices, I guess.

As the morning wears on, I notice the breeze we enjoyed for the past two days has died down a lot, and it leaves the midday heat to hang in the air. When the shade from the bungalow turns, and the sun starts peeking over the roof, the temperature quickly starts to spike and all three of us decide to head inside. Misha hands my laptop back on the way in, smiling and thanking me for letting her try the new game.

When we step in, Amaya greets us with a cheerful, “Hello~!” but it sounds a little forced. The tone doesn't seem directed at us, though, but rather the group in the kitchen.

Around the kitchen counter, Nobuo is apparently planning something with the three boys while Amaya and the other girls are sitting in the living room. Hisao waves at me, and Kenta holds up a limp hand, but Tadao steps forward and grunts, “Manly business! Move along, ladies!”

“Wahaha~!” Misha laughs, striking a commanding pose with her hands on her hips.

Shizune looks to me, but I just shake my head and roll my eyes. Turning back to Tadao, I hold up a finger to start a protest, but I decide against bothering. Dropping my hand to my side, I start walking toward the living room. Shizune follows, apparently coming to a similar conclusion. Misha giggles and trots along with us, apparently amused by the seriousness in Tadao's tone.

“Don't mind them,” Amaya says as I find a seat on the couch.

“Indeed,” Kenta agrees, apparently hearing her dismissive comment, “us men are deep in the planning stages and should not be disturbed!”

“You're already disturbed enough as it is~!” Amaya retorts, not missing a beat.

Sighing dramatically, Tadao stomps toward the door, “Come, men, we have a town to pillage!”

“And a market to raze?” Hisao adds, sounding strangely confused.

“Pillage? Raze?” I whisper, looking toward Amaya.

As Tadao steps out, Amaya turns to me and replies flatly, “They're planning to cook outside,” not bothering to lower her voice, “or, more accurately, they plan to have Nobuo cook outside.”

“Yes, and for that we'll need meat!” Kenta booms, marching out the door with Hisao in tow.

Nobuo stops at the door and sighs, jingling his keys impatiently. “We'll be back,” he states, “tell my sister to get some marinades prepped.”

Misha relays his message, which makes Naoko roll her eyes. “Oh, don't worry Naochan~! I'll help~!” Misha chirps, following her into the kitchen.

Content just to hang around and maybe watch some television, I sink down into the couch. However, apparently Shizune has other plans in mind. Snapping her fingers to get everyone's attention, she beckons the remaining four of us toward the door. Amaya and I share a glance and Yoko shrugs, but we all notice she's not in any mood to be ignored.

Once we've all turned our attention and started making our way over, she smirks and points at me; evidently I'm stuck translating. [Today is Sea Day,] she signs proudly, [and an excuse to celebrate! Have any of you been camping?]

The excited look in her eyes is probably enough emphasis, so I turn to the other two and ask her question, “She wants to celebrate for Sea Day and wonders if either of you been camping before.”

Amaya shakes her head while Yoko nods, but both seem confused; no less than myself, really.

[That's fine,] Shizune continues, smiling broadly, [all you'll need to do is find some wood.]

[A campfire?] I ask, looking for clarification.

[No,] she replies, [a bonfire!]

“Now why didn't I think of that?” I wonder aloud. Amaya tilts her head at me and Yoko holds out her hands, expecting me to elaborate. Instead, I nod toward Shizune and wave them along to follow.

She leads us outside and, after stopping at the little equipment shed to pick up a pair of thick, burlap bags, we follow her down toward the beach. Scanning along the tide line as she goes, her attention eventually fixes on a particular patch of sand surrounded on three sides by grassy hills. Using her heel to gouge some lines in the sand at the center of the half-circle, she outlines the base for the fire pit, then stands in the center.

[We'll need to circle it with some large stones,] she explains, pointing around her feet, [but I saw a big pile of them down the beach last night,] she adds, pointing down the beach. Holding up the two bags, Shizune tosses one for me to catch and nods toward the other two girls.

“Time to build a bonfire,” I finally say, smiling at them in earnest.

Yoko just nods, but Amaya is more vocal. “Aha~!” she beams, smiling broadly, “is she volunteering as kindling?”

In the interest of not sparking an argument, I ignore her question and Yoko's responding giggle. “She saw some rocks down the beach last night,” I say, holding up the bag, “I think she means for me to help get those while you two hunt down some driftwood.”

Amaya giggles and starts climbing up the hill. “I bet I'll find more than you, bean-pole~!” she taunts, smirking over her shoulder. In response, Yoko just sighs and rolls her eyes, heading off in the other direction. While they're getting started competing over sticks, I nod toward Shizune and beckon for her to lead us to the quarry she mentioned.

[You're sure we can have a fire?] I ask, but all she does is shrug.

[It's easier to apologize than ask permission,] she replies. Her logic seems borne of convenience, but I'm looking forward to a nice campfire, so I decide not to argue.

While we're gathering stones, it's hard to converse with Shizune, so I reminisce to myself. Uncle Aki used to have to grease a few palms to let us have a campfire, but nobody ever really complained. The few neighbors he had were usually fine with a little smoke, and it wasn't unusual for it to draw attention and become the center of a late-night party.

That was among the few times Dad was ever allowed to do the cooking, so Mom used to take me aside and pluck on a mandolin while I sang; Midori usually just listened. Deep into the night, we would sit around the fire, bickering and poking fun, singing songs and retelling old stories. Often we joked about how off-key Dad's singing tended to get after a few drinks, but, when he harmonized Mom's melodies, it didn't matter.

My parents always seemed happiest on those fire-lit nights. Even in the few visits after Dad's condition started affecting his mobility, sitting around a campfire is when I got to see how well they got along. Despite everything else, the time we spent together as a family, away from the wider world, always remain happy memories.

When we get back to the campsite, there are two distinct piles of wood waiting for us, but Amaya and Yoko are nowhere to be seen. Apparently, they're taking the little competition seriously and Shizune remarks it's probably best if we not disrupt their piles, something I agree with completely. While waiting for them to return, we set about arranging the fist-sized white stones around the area she had marked.

The few times I've actually worked with Shizune, I've always been impressed by how much she throws herself into whatever she's doing. The expectations she has for others is only surpassed, I think, by what she demands of herself. Even when she's completely buried under an extensive backlog of paperwork, or stuck assembling a dozen wooden stalls for the festival, or doing something as simple as building a temporary fire pit, she attacks the work with a determined smile.

Of course, her tenacious determination is often misinterpreted as forceful belligerence, which is why she and Misha were the only two left on the Student Council; until Hisao came along. Personally, I didn't have the time to devote to duties beyond representing my own class, but most others simply didn't understand Shizune's intentions. Maybe the blame for that falls on both parties, though. Shizune isn't spectacular at communicating her ideas, and it seems most people assume the worst in others.

Once she's satisfied with the arrangement, she stands and starts dusting off her overalls while peering around, probably looking for Amaya and Yoko. Catching her attention with a wave, I remark, [Amaya probably has them trekking half way to Hokkaido.]

[How about a break, then?] she suggests, turning to walk toward the grass.

Remembering the conversation we had yesterday, I realize she hasn't been acting like her normal self over the weekend. When we hit upon a subject she didn't want to discuss, she put on a grin and left the room. Normally, when confronted with a difficult topic, Shizune goes on the offensive and forces people to convince her she's wrong. Last night, though, she completely bypassed the challenge; instead heading outside. At the time, I was more concerned with what had caused her to leave and hadn't noticed how unusual it seemed.

Sitting down beside her, I try to keep my focus elsewhere, but she notices my repeated glances after a few minutes. Settling an inquisitive look on me she leads, [Something on your mind?]

Startled by her question, I fidget and smile sheepishly. The question on my mind seems like one that she just doesn't want to answer, so I have to think of something else to ask. Her look starts to sour as she waits for me to think of something, so I just ask the first thing on my mind, [Have you always been so driven?]

It's phrased rather poorly, but I think she understands what I really mean. Leaning forward against her knees, she pulls off her little wire-frame glasses and smiles with a wistful edge. [I get it from my dad,] she says, though her face immediately turns to a grimace, [he's kind of a jackass.]

Somewhat shocked by the admission, I look away, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. When I look back she's resting her head sideways, smiling again. After a few moments, an apologetic looks crosses her face and she quickly adds, [Sorry, I didn't mean to-]

Cutting her off with an upraised hand, I shake my head and smile. [I'm just surprised you'd say that is all,] I reply, [I've never met your dad, but he can't be that bad.]

[He's not,] she admits. Swaying slightly, her expression settles on a nostalgic grin. [But he's very demanding. He's obstinate, unrelenting and eccentric; conversing with him is more like an interrogation,] she shrugs and smirks as she adds, [but I love him anyway.]

[You've never really mentioned him,] I remark, [he sounds a little like my mom. She's always telling me what I should do, even though she barely has her own life together,] I add with a smile, [she taught me about camping, though.]

Smiling at that, she shakes her head and shrugs. [He taught me how to 'survive in the wild',] she signs, nodding toward the fire pit, [but I still have to pass notes or talk through an interpreter with him.]

Eighteen years with a deaf daughter and he never learned to sign; that can't be right. [He never learned to sign?] I ask, shooting her a confused grimace.

[For most of my childhood, he was convinced I just refused to talk,] she replies, pursing her lips with disdain, [took me to doctors all over Japan, who all told him I was deaf and mute, but, like I said; obstinate.] Grinning, she holds her hand up as if to stifle a silent giggle.

Shaking my head, I can't help chuckle a little at the idea someone could be that blind. Somehow it makes sense, though. If her dad really is that eccentric, it explains why she has trouble communicating with normal people. How she and Misha ended up as friends is still a bit of a mystery, but, then again, Misha isn't exactly normal either.

Before I can explore that line of questions, I see Shizune perk her head up, peering over the grass. Turning to see what caught her attention, I see Yoko; at least I think it's Yoko. Her spindly arms are wrapped around an impressive bundle of sticks that hides most of her face, but the trailing locks of red hair are indication enough.

“Need help with that?” I ask, standing to start walking toward her.

“No, I'm fine!” she protests, “besides, I forfeit the bet if anyone helps!”

Shizune moves to offer assistance, but I catch her elbow. She turns a surprised look on me, but quickly shifts to a wry smirk when I explain Yoko's bet. Giving her a wide berth, we watch as she shuffles over and heaves the bundle down onto one of the piles.

Heaving a sigh and wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, she sets her eyes on the other pile and absently remarks, “She's not back yet.”

“Nope,” I say, “we came back and had time to build the pit,” I point toward the stone circle and grin at Shizune, “you're the first one back.”

Shizune waves to get my attention and asks, [What was the bet?]

Yoko answers, “Small pile has to skinny-dip tonight.”

And she agreed to that?

Dumbfounded by that revelation, it takes me a few seconds to start translating for Shizune. When I finish, she turns toward Yoko and flashes her bobcat grin, signing, [Brave.]

“Tell her it's more stupid than brave,” Yoko laments, “I'm gonna go hunt down some more just in case.”

Watching her depart, it dawns on me that she's apparently been picking up on sign pretty fast. Shizune confirms that with a prideful nod, though she admits it probably has to do with being around signing so much in class. Ito translates everything he says into sign most of the time, and the majority of 3-1 students are deaf or partially deaf, so a lot of them use sign language frequently. Even without knowing what they were saying, she probably picked up on some signs and the lessons are just filling in holes.

[You think she'll really do it?] Shizune asks, [or Amaya even?]

All I can do in response is shrug; I really don't know.

Lately it seems Amaya is having her own little sexual revolution, but she's never been an exhibitionist. However, if those are the terms of the bet, I could see her grudgingly going through with a little humiliation. Yoko, on the other hand, is mostly a mystery where anything like that is concerned. Her shyness is probably the clearest indicator, but I don't think she would have agreed if she weren't ready for the possibility of losing.

Amaya reappears a few minutes later, lugging a comically large bundle of dry logs, complaining about the heat. After adding to her pile, she quickly realizes Yoko's is still larger and sets off to hunt down more, shouting back, “Don't let her cheat~!”

Apparently we've been recruited as referees.

While the afternoon sun slowly makes its way across the sky, some passing clouds offer Shizune and I a brief respite from the climbing temperature. Whiling away the time in relative silence, neither of us continuing the previous conversation, she stares out at the ocean while I lay back and close my eyes. Focusing on nearby sounds allows me to hear some seagulls; probably heading back to their roosts after the noontime rush. In the distance, I can hear a buoy bell chiming in time with the rolling waves, and the hum of a passing motorboat; or maybe a jet-ski.

The seaside cacophony has always helped me relax. After the accident when I lost my hearing, when I almost drown, I had horrifying nightmares. Dad used to rush into my room, no matter the hour, to help me get back to sleep, but he couldn't fight them off completely. When we went to the beach, he noticed that the nightmares actually subsided. Although it didn't make sense, he made an audio recording of the beach-side one night and gave me a CD to use in my bedside radio; it worked surprisingly well.

Years later, the seaside symphony still has a lulling effect and, if not for Shizune's sudden shuffling, I could easily fall asleep here. Noticing my slow reaction, she snaps her fingers to get my attention and I sit up quickly. Apparently Yoko is back, looking over Amaya's pile, smirking at her apparent advantage.

Standing and stretching, I notice Shizune is sketching a scorecard in the sand. “Looks like you have a decent lead,” I say, reading over the crude diagram, “what's the time limit?”

“Ends in two minutes,” Yoko replies, “she's off getting more, though right?”

“Yeah, but how much more can there be, really?” I say encouragingly, “plus she's littler than you and can't carry as much.”

“It won't matter if she doesn't make it back in time,” she remarks, smirking derisively. “Nice pit, by the way,” she offers, nodding toward the stone circle, “my mom was in the Girl Guides.” For a second her expression drops to a frown, but she pushes it away with a sly grin, “she taught me everything she knows.”

What was that frown?

Setting that question aside, I remark, “Amaya grew up taking aikido lessons.”

Folding her arms, she asks, “Aikido doesn't focus much on camping skills, though, right?”

“No, probably not, “ I agree, “but don't get in a fight with her.”

“I am in a fight with her!” she retorts, placing her hands on her hips. Puffing her cheeks out, she glares at me angrily for a few seconds. When I don't move to respond, she lets out a frustrated sigh, the hard edge of her expression softening to something like embarrassment. “I'm not afraid of her,” she says evenly, “I don't even want to humiliate her,” she admits, wrapping one of her arms around her waist, “I just want to win.”

Maybe Yoko isn't as shy as I thought.

Shizune grins and offers a confident fist pump, apparently not needing a translation to understand Yoko's determination. How this little competition sprang up, I'm not sure, but she seems to be taking it more seriously than the volleyball game. That shouldn't really surprise me, though. The volleyball game was a team event, while this is personal; just between the two of them. A potentially humiliating wager between friends. The thought of her and Amaya becoming friends makes me smile, though Yoko interprets it differently.

“When she gets back, I want Shizune to do the count,” she says, pointing toward the Class President, “that way I can expect an unbiased result.”

“You don't trust me?” I ask with a slight pout.

“Would you trust Misha if it were you and Shizune competing?” she retorts.

Although her logic makes sense, I still feel a tinge upset at her insistence. “Fine,” I concede, turning toward Shizune, [she wants you to do the tally.]

In response, Shizune turns to Yoko and offers a slight bow.

Before Yoko can reply, a sudden yell turns our attention toward a slender figure in a full run, dashing over the grass, a bundle of wood in her hands. “I've still got time, right!?” she bellows.

Turning to Yoko, I see her cast a look toward her wristwatch and sigh. “Fifteen seconds,” she says, shrugging toward me.

“Fifteen seconds!” I call out for Amaya to hear.

Her mad dash gets her back just in time to toss her last bundle on the pile. Immediately afterward, she drops down in the grass and lays out flat, panting and giggling. While Shizune tallies the piles by whatever system she devised, Amaya and Yoko sit in the grass and trade insults. Evidently, the off-handed comment Amaya made caused Yoko to formalize the wager when they met up after their first round of gathering. Of course, Amaya came up with the consequences.

At least some small part of this makes sense.

After a few minutes scratching lines in the sand, Shizune turns to me with a perplexed expression and waves me over. Turning away from the bantering pair, she looks at me with a wince and signs, [Can you check my math?]

It's not a request I haven't heard before, but I never expected it to come from Shizune. Obliging, I scan over the numbers she came up with and find everything to appear right. That's somewhat of a problem, though, since, according to her tally, the competition ended with a tie.

Nodding slowly, I sign, [it looks right to me.]

Glancing toward the pair, I see both wearing expectant expressions. Amaya glowers slyly, rubbing her hands together craftily while Yoko purses her lips and squints at us, absently twirling a bunch of her hair.

[Well I'm calling it, then,] Shizune says with a slight nod.

“What'd she say?” Amaya asks, “no messin' around, Aiko, just tell me I won,” she says with a confident smirk.

“You did,” I reply, smirking at Yoko. Before Amaya can celebrate, I add, “and so did Yoko.”

Both of them sit and stare at me in confusion for a moment before Yoko crosses her arms and huffs, “You're sure?” accompanied by a suspicious expression.

“All she had me do is check her math,” I say, patting the air.

“Well, what the heck does that mean?” Amaya says, throwing up her arms and turning a raised eyebrow at Yoko.

“I guess we both won, so neither has to do it?” Yoko suggests.

For a second, Amaya starts to nod, but a loud finger-snap stops her. Shizune sets a devious grin on them and starts signing, [They both lost, too.]

It's a fair point. Catching on to what she probably means, I hold up a hand and suggest, “You both lost, too, so perhaps you should both...” As I trail off, I see Amaya flash a toothy grin at Yoko.

“Topless, and at the same time,” she says nudging Yoko's shoulder.

Grimacing, Yoko shakes her head slightly, but, after a few moments contemplation, grudgingly nods in agreement. “After dark,” she says, “and no shenanigans.” She punctuates her demands with a finger poking Amaya's shoulder.

“This whole thing is shenanigans~!” Amaya chirps, holding out her hand.

Taking it tentatively, Yoko lets out a resigned sigh and laments, “It's my fault.”

“Hey, I'm the one who started it~!” Amaya retorts, shaking her hand furiously, “it'll be fun, don't worry~!”

Finally having the bet settled, or at least the planned consequences, we set about piling the wood into the rock circle. Shizune insists that we form it into a tent with a hollow base, which makes building it somewhat tedious, but it's how I remember the bonfires at our family gatherings being; and those usually lasted deep into the night. Stoking the hollow at the bottom with dry grass, we leave the lighting until dusk, heading back inside to get cleaned up and change into something that isn't caked with sand.

The real shenanigans start later.
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Chapter 25: http://pastebin.com/kVwVNrfe