Tomorrow's Doom A.1/C.4 - Subterfuge

Chapter 3: http://pastebin.com/nY77rHjw
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Chapter 4 – Subterfuge

The next morning starts peacefully. Sleeping in for once, I crawl out of bed around nine to have breakfast and get my school uniform on; working at a festival booth is not a job for yukata. Being expected there by ten, I have some time to make myself look a little extra special.

Not knowing exactly how to go about that, I settle on gathering my hair and wrapping it in a short braid down the middle of my neck, leaving a generous portion to hang in front. My eyes still look a little sunken, so I make sure the hair casts some shadows across them to hide the weeks of missing sleep. Finishing with a green ribbon tied around the braid into little finger-like shapes, I smile into the mirror.

Pleased at the result, I grab my laptop and its carry-bag, then bound out the door, making my way out to the festival grounds. The warm sunlight and gentle breeze create a nice warm day, near-perfect festival weather. With the sky so clear, I imagine the temperature will climb as the day wears on, but I'll be in a nice shady booth through the worst of the heat.

Coming into sight of the booth, I see Naoko is already there, and looking chipper as ever. Evidently she started early and already has the game set up. Quietly joining her, I start sorting through the boxes beneath the counter for little stuffed animals, key-chains and other assorted prizes people would be trying to win, and hanging them up around the inside walls.

Unlike the majority of other classrooms, most of which are selling various junk foods, made to order, class 3-1 is responsible for one of the game booths. It's a simple game, really. On a table in the middle of the booth there are twenty-four tiny fish bowls. Each filled with water to the neck, and, sunk into eight of them, there are some colorful plastic goldfish. Players stand about two meters from the closest fish bowls, and try to toss a rubber racket ball into one with a fish.

It's harder than it sounds.

Remembering a festival like this from long ago, I recall being held up in Dad's arms to try and win a prize playing this exact same game, but this had actually been Naoko's suggestion. When she brought it up during a brainstorming session, a few of the others laughed it off, but I had the final say; and I really liked the idea. The fact that she volunteered to set it up herself assuaged the concerns of my other classmates.

Now she's tapping me on the shoulder, so I turn and inspect her giddy smile. She's a bit taller than Amaya, but still shorter than my five-foot-three frame. Her figure is somewhere in between; having Amaya's narrowness combined with some of my curves. Her school uniform is -as always- pressed and wrinkle-free, but she usually doesn't have the bright red ribbons hanging over her ears – festival fare, I gather. Her hair is dark, forest green and shoulder-length. Usually it's held behind her ears by a dainty barrette, but today it's wrapped in a tight bun with a pair of white chopsticks sticking out on top. Looking her over, I realize how convenient it must be to commute to the school rather than live in the dorms.

Her cheerful expression goes along well with her excited signing, [I love your ribbon~!]

Cracking a smile, I heave a sigh. [Well, I only had a few minutes,] I complain. [You look nice. Are you wearing a yukata later?] I inquire, somewhat rhetorically.

[Of course~!] she beams, pointing to her bag and the carefully-laid-out package nearby. Ever since I've known her, Naoko seems to be able to incorporate a lilt into her signing, it's rather comical, but fitting. [You and Amaya went shopping yesterday, right?] she asks with a knowing smirk.

[Yeah but I'm not changing 'til later,] I say. She bobs her head in an excited nod; I think if Naoko could speak, she'd sound cheerful all the time, like Emi.

Or Misha.

Continuing to get the booth ready quietly, we soon have the walls covered with brightly colored prizes, and it's time to wait... And wait. Then wait some more. Tadao was supposed to be here from noon until one-thirty, so I'll be at this booth for almost four hours. Happily, the crowds won't start to get big until after noon, so, while the rest of the setup is happening around us, I look down at my bag and decide to pull out my laptop.

Grinning at the start-up sound, I quickly slip into a game of Call of Duty 2. I'll consider it a study of world history if anyone asks. It occurs to me that I'd rather be playing online, but the school doesn't maintain a network connection outside a few key areas of the building, mainly the library, and they don't reach far enough out here.

A little past ten thirty, Tadao's grim visage suddenly appears in front of me. Feeling him tap the counter I'm leaning against, I look away from the computer to meet his sullen gaze. There's a panicked look in his eyes, and he's rolling a half-chewed pencil between his fingers. Realizing what this conversation will be about, I offer him a sweet smile and half-closed eyes, blinking excessively. My look seems to make him even more nervous for a second, and he turns to look around at the other booths, fidgeting like a criminal informant – I can almost taste his trepidation.

As he looks around apprehensively, I notice he's not in his school uniform. He's wearing black jeans, a gray hipster t-shirt that I can't read because he won't stop moving, and black tennis shoes. Every few seconds he reaches a hand up and fiddles with the gold chain around his neck; at the end of it is a tiny cross, one of the few things that remain of his parents, he once told me. He looks like he might have a heart attack if someone doesn't break the tension, so I tilt my head and give him an opening. “Nervous?” I ask.

He fake-laughs at the rhetoric, but quickly stifles it, drawing his face into a dark expression. He leans forcefully against the counter, making the booth shake. Looking around at the booth apologetically, he takes a deep breath. His wild eyes calm and he flicks the ruined pencil away before he asks, “does it show?”

laughing hysterically, I back away from the counter to avoid the swat at my arm. He swallows hard and looks toward the back of the booth, only now noticing Naoko. Tensing for a second, he quickly remembers she can't hear him. “This is your fault,” he accuses.

Moi? Little old me?

Wiping tears out of my eyes from the bout of laughter, I pat the air and shake my finger at him. “You brought this on yourself,” I say, still giggling.

Frowning, he and puts his head down and starts to say, “I guess I did, but-”

Biting his words back, he lifts his head, centering his eyes on me with a quizzical gaze before accusing, “this wouldn't be happening if you hadn't said anything.” Throwing his hands up in exasperation, he narrows his eyes and remarks, “I thought we had a deal?”

Speech time!

Taking a deep breath, I don't hold anything back. “It was time. The festival is the perfect day for it, and you've been at each other for a year. Even Naoko knew,” I say, pointing my thumb over my shoulder for emphasis, “and I'm sure the rest of the school does.” Waving my hands around at nothing in particular to emphasize my point, I center my gaze on him and continue, “the only ones who remained blissfully ignorant were probably the two of you.” As I spoke, I watched his face move from embarrassment to anger, then bewilderment. Finishing by pointing at myself and grinning proudly, I summarize, “I just turned your parallel lines into a tangent.”

After a few seconds spent scowling at me, he steps back from the counter and folds his arms, finally settling on a serene smile and offering a sagely nod. Once it sinks in a bit more, he raises an eyebrow and begins to ask, “She's really been-”

I interject, “yes.”

He points, asking “and you?” Now with both eyebrows raised.

I sigh, “daily.”

He looks up again like yesterday, contemplating -turning the gears- and then looks back, offering a bow, “I apologize. That cannot have been a comfortable arrangement for you.”

That sounded a little practiced, but that isn't anything new; he probably expected this outcome and had that reply prepared. Returning the bow, I explain, “nobody's fault, really. You could have done something months ago, and so could I – and so could Amaya. Let's just be happy that torment is over.”

He offers another sagely nod and leans back, stuffing his hands in his pockets. I get the feeling he's been nervously asking indirect questions until he calmed down enough to ask, “speaking of torment, have you seen Amaya?”

Ah, there it is.

I decide to act a little coy; I think he deserves as much. “I see her most every day, so, yes,” I offer him raised eyebrows, but he doesn't look amused.

His face sours and he flips his head back to toss a stray hair off his nose. “I mean today. Have you seen her today?” he asks in monotone, leveling his eyes and pointedly keeping a smile off his face.

Tadao's murder-face is less scary than adorable.

Leaning against the counter, I look down at my laptop and notice that a stray NPC had apparently killed me.

Sigh...

Turning up at him, I smile and reply, “no, I didn't see her this-morning before I got here, and she hasn't been by.”

He pivots his waist around and scans the area, presumably looking for Amaya. The consternation on his face is palpable. He looks adorably lost, but I think there's a hint of concern in his demeanor, and it's making me wonder how much he worries about Amaya's condition. He doesn't get to see her as often as I do, and hasn't known her for quite as long, so he doesn't really know how severe her condition had been – or could be.

He didn't even know she was epileptic at last year's festival; she just told him the noise frightened her. The infrequency of her attacks doesn't seem to dawn on him, so I decide to offer some advice, “she's not a porcelain doll. You don't have to worry so much.”

“I'm just nervous,” he states. There are more words hung up in his head; I can see him trying to piece them together, so I wait. Finally he finishes the thought, “what if she doesn't show up?”

It's a simple question, and I wonder at how long it took for him to ask, but he's not great at conversation; usually spending too much time thinking about what to say. I decide to give a simple answer, “Then I'll go find her and give her a swift boot in your direction.” Finishing with a wink, I look back down at my laptop.

He shuffles a bit and continues scanning around, “Well, if you see her-”

“I'll tell her you were looking for her,” I finish his request. Waving my hand to shoo him away, I suggest, “go, wander around a bit. I'm sure she's just taking her time getting dressed.” He doesn't know about the new yukata, but I think he probably assumed she would be wearing one, so I decide to drop a hint. “Look for white, pink and black, with ribbons in her hair,” I describe absently, focusing on the loading screen.

Not seeing his nod as I wait for the loading bar to fill, I can still sense his thanks. hearing him wander away, I restart the campaign mode and go back to letting time sink away. Naoko asks about why Tadao was here, but I'm less specific than she probably desired. I don't mind if the whole school knows they're finally dating, but I think the specifics should be between them, rather than public information. Of course, I'll be squeezing all the information I can out of Amaya at my earliest convenience; I'm not the public, I'm her best friend - I need to know.

At least that's what I tell myself.

The morning turns into afternoon, and I continue playing my game in between working with the slow trickle of contestants. Naoko's shift ends at noon, and she departs, giddily darting toward the girls dorm to change, when Yoko arrives to relieve her.

Realizing I haven't talked to Yoko much, I recall she sits in the far corner of the class; a little too far for us to end up grouping together. Having just transferred from a regular school at the beginning of the year, she hasn't been around long enough for us to really have met; even though she's only a few doors down in the dorms. Mentioning she's of French descent and has Canadian parents, her freckled, cream-colored skin and bright-red locks of curly hair suddenly make sense.

Apparently she's deaf in her right ear -opposite of mine- but hasn't bothered learning to sign yet. She speaks flawless Japanese, and, having Canadian parents, she also speaks flawless English – as well as some French. I envy her mastery of English, especially. We share some stories about growing up with balance problems, but the conversation is mostly light; I avoid talking about being teased. As time wears on, I spend most of it staring blankly at my monitor trying to blast my way through Nazis in the British campaign.

Right around twelve thirty, a familiar face -or pair of faces, I should say- appears in front of me. One of them wearing her determined grin, and the other grinning her Cheshire cat smile, Shizune and Misha stand side-by-side wearing their school uniforms – rather plainly. I'm a bit surprised to see Misha isn't wearing any extra decoration, but Shizune probably wouldn't allow her that kind of leeway.

The Student Council should appear official at the festival, Shizune might say, since they were so heavily involved with the production. Acting as overseers to ensure everything is running properly, or at least that's the idea, I think. Mostly, Shizune just prefers to look official even when it isn't necessary. She takes the Class President title seriously – to a fault at times.

Their presence is somewhat unexpected, but am I surprised? No.

Standing, I closing the laptop to hide my frivolous pass-time and greet them with a smile and a nod. Misha's lilting voice -which I'm almost certain Naoko could hear if she hadn't left- follows Shizune's deft signing, blissfully ignoring the fact that I don't need the translation. “Hi, Aiko-chan~! Shicchan was wondering if you've had a busy morning.” Her drill-like pink hair bobs playfully as she speaks, distracting me from what she's saying for a moment.

Realizing the situation, I wonder at the odd question. They both know the festival proper hasn't actually started yet, but here they are asking how busy it has been. Shizune is usually much more direct than that, and I'm a little concerned why she's skirting the issue; whatever it may be. Signing back, I don't bother speaking, [It's been pretty slow, really. Though you already knew that since the festivities haven't officially started yet. Why are you here, really?]

Shizune places her hands on her hips and gives me a stern look, but it softens quickly and she leans back, grinning deviously, [I heard about your discussion with Nakai.] Misha starts to speak, but Shizune elbows her side; desiring to remain covert, apparently.

I don't like where this is going.

Swallowing a lump in my throat, I try to smile, but realize it's somewhat futile. Having never been particularly good at hiding my emotions, I accept whatever expressions cross my face as I answer, [yeah. He was saying that he might just sleep the day away. I couldn't let him do that.]

Shizune smiles brightly and signs, [Neither could I.] Now she turns and looks past Misha, stepping to the side slightly, that devious smile returning as she glances toward a figure looking in the other direction.

Uh oh...

It takes a few seconds for the realization to hit, or maybe for the disbelief to wear away, but I feel my eyes widening anyway. I also feel my cheeks getting hot, and I look away toward my laptop. They brought Nakai out here with them, and now all I have the sense to do it stare blankly at my closed laptop.

Feeling it more than I hear it, I notice Shizune gently tapping on the counter, trying to get my attention. Looking up slowly, I hear Misha's laugh almost immediately. “Wahaha~!” she booms, tossing her head back.

Nakai is still looking away, but I see him visibly flinch upon hearing the booming laughter. Shizune starts signing again, and I find myself somewhat distracted, so she bumps Misha to translate. Her clandestine whisper is still loud, but it's closer to the level of normal speech. “We had to go brow-beat him into getting out of his dorm room~!” she says, turning her gaze back toward Nakai.

They went to his dorm room? Isn't that a little too forward?

Well, they are the Student Council, so I guess it's within their boundaries... but still.

What are they planning?

Misha is still talking, but the whisper begins to fade as she's clearly more excited than she ought to be, “Hicchan tried to weasel out of it, but Shicchan convinced him to go for a walk with us, and he explained about your im-pass-ion-ed speech.” Listening to her hang on the big word makes me smile reflexively.

By now I'm looking back at Shizune, finally tearing my gaze away from Nakai's backside -okay, I was staring- so she gives Misha another bump and continues signing, [He said he was inspired to come, but didn't know how to find you. We decided to show him.]

Oh. Oh wait! Oh no...

Smiling despite my sudden discomfort, I see Shizune patting the air. Leaning close, conspiratorially, she signs close to her body, [The game's afoot, Miss Kurai.]

The cryptic challenge is confusing, but the narrowed look in her eyes and the competitive, cat-like grin on her face are quite unsettling. Misha's beaming smile would never have been a solid indicator of anything, so looking to her won't help me figure this out.

Is she declaring a war for Nakai's affections?

If that's the case, she's being rather fair about it; bringing him right to me on the day of the festival. As Shizune leans away again, establishing her cocky grin and placing a hand on her hip, I wonder how she plans to fight this war – if it is a war. Having seen her playRisk, I know she's somewhat of a master strategist -and manipulator- but I never thought she would go so far as to turn something like this into a contest.

Shizune starts signing, still grinning cockily, [I understand you're taking Yoshida's shift, so you won't be able to escort Nakai around until a bit later.] She flashes a triumphant smile, [Therefore, Misha and I shall accompany him until your shift ends.]

Frowning, I realize her game. If there's one thing I know about Shizune, it's that she knows all is fair in love and war, so, if it's a war she wants, it's a war she'll get. Quickly deciding to make a play of my own, I use a secret weapon Shizune can't possibly possess – at least not directly.

Remembering our conversation in the math lab -specifically about wanting me to call him Hisao- I call out in the sweetest, most lilting, happy voice I can manage, “hey Hisao, you made it out~!” As he turns, I offer a sweet, girly smile accompanied by a fast-paced wave, beckoning him over.

Where was that confidence two days ago?

Shizune casts a scowl at me, understanding I've figured out her plan. As Nakai wanders over, I notice that he's still in his school uniform – with that dorky sweater-vest. I shouldn't say dorky, though, since it seems to suit him so well.

Eclectic, maybe.

Watching him, I wonder if he even brought any regular clothes with him; other than sweater-vests, of course, since this one looks different – it's argyle. Perhaps he was rushed to move here and left most of his things behind, or maybe whatever backwater burg he hails from doesn't have any good shopping centers. Keeping those perplexing thoughts off my face rather successfully, I smile contentedly as he steps up into the space between Shizune and Misha.

Wearing a sleepy smile, he greets me, “morning Aiko.” Looking like he just woke up, he scans around the inside of the booth with those big green -wait, they're brown- irises.

Must have been the florescent lights.

“It's already passed noon, y'know,” I chide, looking toward Misha. Apparently, with Nakai between them, it's difficult for her to sign everything to Shizune. A happy coincidence, I decide.

Should I feel bad for using Shizune's deafness against her? No.

“Y-yeah, well. I slept in,” he explains, stretching into a yawn. “I was about to head out to try and find you when these two,” he points to his sides, indicating the duo, “appeared at my door ready to drag me to the festival, kicking and screaming.” He grins widely, disarming Shizune's scowl. Misha is getting some of the conversation across, evidently.

Misha breaks out laughing, scaring some of the nearby festival-goers into a quicker pace, and Shizune starts signing. With Nakai between them, Misha can't see, so she sputters a bit, but remains quiet. [Nice move,] Shizune signs, dipping into a slight bow. [We'll be back just before Yoshida's shift ends.]

“Thank you,” I say, acknowledging her deference to my tactical advance. I don't bother signing it, but Shizune understands my meaning; she answers with a slight nod as I explain to Nakai, “I would have come and found you a bit later, but I'm trapped here for a while.” Glancing back at the inside of the booth, I see Yoko thumbing through a box, trying not to listen; though I don't think she's trying hard. She stands up quickly, realizing I've noticed her for the first time since Shizune and Misha arrived.

Turning back to Nakai, I smile and continue explaining, “I'll be here until one-thirty with Yoko.” I point a thumb over my shoulder, indicating the tall, red-haired girl. “These two have graciously decided to help show you around until then,” I smile and nod at each as I speak.

Nakai sputters, “O-Oh.” He looks a little deflated.

Maybe he was expecting me to abandon the booth?

That just wouldn't be proper, though. Then again, maybe he's still being bombarded with Student Council recruitment requests and isn't looking forward to walking around with them for an hour. He looks to Misha, then Shizune and shrugs. “Well, I'll be back then,” he says in a hopeful tone.

Keep your composure, Kurai.

Grinning, I try to hold the blush back, which seems to make it all the more fierce. Looking back down at my laptop nonchalantly, I pop it open this time, gracefully hiding the blush behind my hair. Nakai steps back a bit, realizing he's blocking the other two from conversing. Soon after, Misha starts signing and speaking, “we'll be back in about an hour, Aiko-chan~!”

As she speaks, I think of another card to play. Needing time to change into my yukata, I innocently ask, “can you make it ninety minutes?” Not bothering to look up I explain, “I might have to wait for my replacement” It's a tactical lie, but a plausible circumstance. Since I'm looking away, they can't get a read the deception on my face, so Misha just signs it back to Shizune.

I might actually be winning this little exchange.

They both turn away and Shizune signs something back that I can't see. Misha speaks again a moment later, “alright, Aiko-chan, we'll be back around two, then~! Don't tell her we'll be watching, Misha.” She stops and covers her mouth, looking nervously at Shizune. “Oops~! Wahaha~!” her laughter seems to shake the key-chains hanging in the booth, making them rattle – maybe it was just the breeze, though.

Shizune glares at her, but it almost looks practiced. There isn't quite as much bluster in the look, and that makes me think this is an attempted psych-out. If it is, I think she knows I'll realize her scheme, but it's bound to work anyway. Even if I don't really think they'll be watching -they'll be wandering around with Nakai, presumably- it will still make me jumpy and self-conscious.

One last gut-punch to keep me honest, I guess.

Realizing I'll have to take special care when I weave my way back through the crowds to my dorm so I can change, I nod at Shizune with narrowed eyes. She offers a sweet smile before turning away, beckoning Misha and Nakai to follow with a loud snap of her fingers.

When they're gone, Yoko walks up to the counter next to me and smirks. “So, Shizune declared war, I take it,” she surmises with a smirk. A cat-like grin replaces the smirk and she adds, “you can take her.”

Evidently she picked up on the conversation, and figured out what was being said, even though she could only have caught snippets of the discussion. Uncertain how she could know I'd be capable of defeating Shizune -if that's what this comes to- I smile dumbly and nod at her vote of confidence. I quietly hope she's right - if not for my sake, then for Nakai's.

The look on his face as Shizune paraded him away was somewhere between confusion and distress, and I wonder how far he is from breaking down and joining the Student Council. I also wonder whether the interest he seemed to have in me is greater or lesser than his interest in Shizune – which was more apparent in hindsight. Maybe he was just being courteous, though. Still, the idea of competing for his affection is somewhat off-putting morally, but I'm not the one who tossed the gauntlet.

Misha's slip of the tongue -a tactical psychological bomb, as it were- keeps me looking up from my laptop as the afternoon continues. Yoko doesn't say much as the crowds start getting busier. She's not used to running a booth like this -it being her first year at the Yamaku Festival- so she defers to my judgment whenever someone shows up at the booth to play the fish-bowl game.

Making a point to quickly fill empty hooks with more prizes from the boxes, she ensures the walls look nicely stocked with plenty of variety. I do most of the talking, and the crowds begin piling up such that I hide my laptop back in its bag, joining in with the laughter and exclamations from players and spectators alike. When the announcement comes over the loud-speaker that the festival has officially begun, we can barely hear it over the jovial crowd.

Reflexively checking my watch anyway, I know my -Tadao's- shift is up in thirty minutes, but I don't want to be caught unaware. Repeatedly glancing into the crowds, I keep a look out for the most distinct indicator of Shizune's likely presence; Misha's pink hair. Although I wonder if she might send Misha to stalk around nearby, just to distract me and further my nervousness. However, I doubt she'd send her translator away unless Nakai understood sign – which I know he doesn't. She could pass notes, I guess, but she hates that practice.

Yoko starts to take a more active role in the ordeal as she seems to be getting a lot of attention. The crowd around here isn't used to seeing foreigners, so they have a lot of questions; they don't realize she was actually raised in Japan. As we're collecting yen and dolling out prizes, she explains how her father, Pierre Guidot, was a businessman from Canada who moved to Japan with his wife in the nineties to fill an executive position. Evidently her parents gave their daughter a Japanese name in honor of the continental change, but I think it's just as likely a nod to The Beatles.

Observing the crowd's complimentary interest in her, and getting to know her a little better, I lose all track of time. When our two replacements, Toru Tanaka and Jun Uematsu, arrive, we continue working with the crowd until I happen to glance at my watch. Leaping back at the startling realization that I've wasted almost fifteen minutes of my changing time, I duck down, grab my laptop, wave a happy farewell to the remaining trio and dart away as quickly as my feet -and my balance- will take me.

Spectacular. So glad I could stick with the plan.

Having no time for it, I don't bother checking for Shizune or Misha's prying eyes as I push my way into the dorms and dash up the steps, down the hall and into my room. Safely behind the door, I lean against it and toss my laptop, gently, onto my bed. After taking a moment to breathe -I just ran faster than I have in weeks- I dig out my new yukata and get to changing.

Looking at my watch repeatedly seems to waste more time than just going about the dressing, but I can't help myself. Like I'm being held in a pit with a bladed pendulum slowly swinging overhead, mocking my need to rush, begging me to look at it over and over as my doom approaches. Of course, it's not that dramatic; I'm not facing an execution. However, if I'm late, Shizune will see it as a defeat on my part, and I have no intention of letting her win.

Finally, I tie the obi around my waist and slip into the decorative, green geta –sandals- that match the ribbon in my hair. Recalling having painted my toenails a few nights ago, I'm glad for a moment that I'm an insomniac. Standing in front of the mirror, I look myself over. The yukata fits comfortably, highlighting my curvy figure, and the pattern works wonderfully with my hair; just as it did yesterday afternoon. Seeing my content smile, I'll have to remember to thank Miyoto for his excellent design sense.

Later, though.

With my hair done up the way it is with the green ribbon, I decide I look rather stunning and cute in a girly way, and I hope that's what Nakai thinks; I also hope I'm not overdoing things. This is just a tour, I force myself to remember.

Right?

Taking a last look at my watch, I realize I have just enough time to walk, slowly, confidently, down to the booth to await Shizune's return with Misha and Nakai. Deciding to be cautious, I lock my door; in the event Shizune decides to do reconnaissance while Nakai and I are out wandering. For some reason I doubt she'd stoop that low, but, who knows how far she's willing to go, having decided to set up a competition like this; it's an unsettling thought.

Of course, knowing I have enough time doesn't stop me from running all the way there – albeit at a slower pace than my mad dash to the dorms, now that I'm wearing these shoes. Smiling and nodding at the approving looks -and cat calls- from Toru and Jun, I make it back to the booth and calmly walk around the back. My yukata draws a few grins from the crowd as well.

Yoko appears to have noticed the time and vanished soon after I did, and I muse at the depleted crowd that seemed to result from her absence. The two boys are uncertain why I came back, but I don't get time to explain – not that I would. When Shizune appears behind the crowd with Misha and Nakai in tow, I step out around the booth into view.

Making a face somewhere between shock and anger upon seeing me in the yukata, she folds her arms in front of her and nods. The look she offers seems to say, “brilliant move,” though I don't think she would use such an emphatic adjective.

Misha dances over to me and happily giggles, seemingly ignoring my deception; or she doesn't realize it was deceptive. “Wahaha~!” Her laugh makes me cringe, but I smile anyway, trying to turn my deaf ear in her direction. She lightly touches my shoulders, grinning wildly, and looks me over. “I love your yukata~! You look so pretty~!” she compliments. Turning away, she asks Nakai, “doesn't she, Hicchan~?” He blushes fiercely and shuffles his feet, not giving an answer to the loaded question.

I wonder if he understands Shizune and I are competing?

Maybe he's just nervous around girls, or, worse, maybe he doesn't think I'm pretty. Then again, he's blushing so hard, I think his face might pop. Shizune looks on with a wondering expression, having no real idea what we're saying since her translator is looking the other way and I'm not filling in the blanks.

Misha steps off to the side and starts signing to Shizune, and there's suddenly nothing between me and Nakai except a few meters of air. He's smiling now, and nodding; It's kind of sweet and innocent. The blush is fading, but he can't seem to look anywhere but at me. Smiling back, I hope his is a silent answer to Misha's blundering -or tactical- question.

We lock eyes, awkwardly at first, but we both relax quickly. Misha's boisterous voice fades into the ether, which is very odd considering how loud she is, as we -Nakai and I- stand there, each lost in a contemplative gaze. As I stare back -and I know I'm staring, but so is he- I wonder why I feel so light and entranced.

The sounds around us seem to go silent, and I feel like I've slipped out of time. Maybe this is what it's like to pass through one of those portals in that game I feel like I was playing ten years ago. Standing between worlds in the silence, locked in a friendly gaze that looks a lot like your own.

He has almost a child-like quality to his posture, even though he's slouching a bit and keeps pawing at his chest. I barely know this guy, and I've barely said anything to him –nor him to me- but there's something in his eyes that begs to be known. It's mysterious and adorable, and I can't seem to look away.

Suddenly, Shizune steps between us, breaking the spell. The sound of the crowds and Misha's lilt fill the air again almost immediately, and I turn my gaze down to my feet. I wriggle my toes absently as Shizune starts signing something, but I have my eyes averted. Misha's voice echoes in my ear and I finally look up as she speaks, “Earth to Aiko-chan~! Shicchan asked you a question.”

Looking at Shizune, I breathe an apologetic-sounding, “what?”

She grins wickedly at seeing my dreamy expression and rolls her eyes as she repeats the question. For once, Misha doesn't translate, [are you well enough to show him around?]

There's a hint of concern in her look, and I realize I might have appeared as though I might pass out during the extended gaze. They don't seem to have noticed I was staring at Nakai. Having melded out of reality for a few seconds, it seems, I must look a bit flustered, but I don't think the reason bears mentioning; at least they aren't saying anything.

Oh, am I making fun of the mute, again? Ha!

Nodding, I shake my head and start signing. [Yeah, sorry. Little dizzy spell is all,] I lie again. This time I don't look away; I think I'm getting the hang of lying, as much as I find that thought disturbing.

Backing away, she heaves a sigh and offers an understanding smile. Signing once again, Misha dutifully translates, “we leave Hicchan in your capable hands, then, Aiko-chan~! We've shown him some of the booths already, but I don't think he'll mind repeat visits~!” She turns and winks at Nakai, who looks away and kicks the ground; another child-like gesture. She turns and throws her head back in a booming, “Wahaha~!” In response, somewhere in a tree, I swear I can see a bird exploding into a shower of feathers.

Shizune beckons her over and, after a nodding her cat-like grin at me, the two of them walk away, headed toward the dorms. Watching them go, I wonder if they have master keys.

They are the Student Council, so maybe... Was locking my door futile?

Paling a little at the thought, I brush it aside. I still don't think Shizune would sink that low.

I guarantee this isn't over, though.
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Chapter 5: http://pastebin.com/N31mBgv8