Tomorrow's Doom A.3/C.21 - Swooners and Crooners

Chapter 20: http://pastebin.com/bRdzF2yR
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Chapter 21 – Swooners and Crooners

Waking to the sound of rolling waves and the hauntingly sweet smell of some unidentified confection wafting through the air, I feel warm and secure in this strange bed. Hidden under the covers, and stuffed deep within the darkness of the lower bunk, I'm not sure if anyone has even noticed I haven't gotten up yet, but that's fine; I was up late, anyway. Time seems immaterial considering I don't exactly have any obligations for the next couple days; the feeling is quite liberating. Huddling into the blankets deeper, I don't even care if I leave this spot all day.

However, as that smell begins to permeate the air, another sensation creeps over me, that of hunger. Feeling a little betrayed by that most primal of urges, I roll out of my comfortably numb state and flop the blanket off to the side, looking around for a clock. Not finding one, I notice I still have my watch on, and I pull my hand up to read it more closely.

They let me sleep until after ten? I love my friends.

Groggily, and slowly, I pull myself up out of the recesses of the bed and swing my feet out, grinning as I take a deep breath and stretch into a head-clearing yawn. Standing with the stretch, I place my hands on the top bunk and lean backward, practically inverting my spine, then bend down to touch my toes. Giggling as I stand and catch my balance with a few steps forward, I nearly fall onto the twin bed.

Rubbing my eyes as I cross the room to the closet, I realize I still have my khaki shorts and tank-top on from yesterday, but it doesn't matter. With my eyes half-shut, I pick out one of the sun dresses Mom bought for me, lay it out on my bunk, and head for the bathroom to take a nice, hot shower. Letting the warm water relax away the last of whatever worries kept me awake so late last night, I take longer than I normally might, but there's no reason to rush.

After using it to pat myself dry, I wrap the large towel around myself and take another smaller one for my hair. Stepping out into the bedroom, I expect someone, likely Amaya, to be waiting with a scornful look. Upon seeing Hisao sitting on the edge of the twin bed, drowsily reading through a magazine, I yelp and nearly rush back into the bathroom. Stopping mid-stride, I clasp the towel with my hand to ensure it stays up, and clear my throat to indicate I've caught him. Standing like he's set on springs, Hisao looks at me wide-eyed, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment; or maybe something else.

Repress the dirty thoughts!

“Amaya sent me to-” he starts to explain, but stops and shakes his head. “I... uh,” he sputters and chuckles nervously. Settling himself with a breath, he skips the explanation and greets me, “good morning!”

Maintaining my angry look becomes quite difficult when faced with his apologetic eyes; which is helped even more when he spins to avert them. Instead of being outraged, I smile sleepily, still hazy from the shower, and reply, “morning~!”

Hearing the forgiving lilt, he keeps his eyes away and asks, “hungry?”

“I could eat,” I say, still clutching the towel, “still waking up, though.”

“There's coffee and tea ready,” he informs me as I walk across to the dresser. Turning to keep his eyes facing away, he continues, “but it's just the four of us here to enjoy it.”

Based on him saying Amaya sent him, I assume the other two are her and Tadao, but I still ask, “four of us?”

“Amaya and Kenta, actually,” he replies, causing me to stare at him quizzically. Offering a dismissive wave, he heads for the door and turns as he pulls it open to add, “we're out on the deck whenever you're ready.”

I'm not even mildly offended by his veiled peek.

Quickly looking away, he rushes out the door and closes it swiftly. Part of me wants to ask him to stay, the dirty-minded part that often makes me envision all sorts of deviant behavior, but I repress that side of my psyche and reply, loud enough to hear through the door, “alright, I should be out in five.”

Oh the deviant things I had in mind...

After making myself presentable, I head out through the living room and outside to join the other three on the deck. Greeting me with tea and a fresh-baked and buttered croissant, Amaya bursts into laughter as I step outside, but apparently the source is Hisao's bewildered look. Like a good errand boy, I assume she sent him to fetch me for brunch, probably in the hopes of him catching me between dressed states, and now he sits, sipping coffee, shying away from eye contact; maybe he thought I'd get dressed in the bathroom.

I'm actually not mad, though.

Sitting down beside him, I smirk at his reaction and inquire, “you make a habit of invading girls' rooms while they're in the shower~?” Adding an accusatory lilt to my voice seems to make him shift uncomfortably, but I know he can see through my insincere tone.

“I saw nothing,” he states coolly, “though Amaya suggested I join you.”

“Join me?” I prompt, turning my raised eyebrow at Amaya's cracking visage. Whatever intent Hisao may have had with his visit, if what he says is true, there might need to be some shin-kicking in Amaya's future.

She squirms under my gaze and laughs nervously for a second, then holds up the plate of sweet-smelling breads and offers, “croissant?”

Oh no you don't, Little Miss Dirty Mind!

The discomfort around the table is palpable as she and I stare at each-other, this time with at least some actual animosity. Buying me frilly lingerie, I can forgive. Accusing me of unintentionally instigating an intimate encounter, I can deal with. However, straight-out suggesting the consummation of my relationship with Hisao is rather reprehensible; even though I wouldn't be completely against the idea.

“That's a lovely dress,” Kenta compliments, trying to break the tension. “I haven't seen you in a dress since last summer,” he continues, “green with white trim and nice yellow flowers; it looks nice on you! Really highlights your-” He stops and settles into his chair, frowning.

His attempt at levity is short-lived, falling silent when neither of us so much as turn a glance at him. Hisao remains quiet as well, though that might be due to guilt since he did just rat her out; though I'm happy to see he chose being honest with me over protecting my friend's indiscretion. Sitting at the table with my hands firmly against my hips, locking eyes disdainfully with my best friend, we carry on for a few minutes, but eventually something has to give.

Hisao finally speaks, “she was kidding, I'm sure.”

Amaya doesn't budge, but she does manage a small smile accompanied by puppy-dog eyes filled with apology. Looking at her, I realize I'm the one holding the tension, and I really just want to forget about the whole thing. “You're forgiven,” I say, “but try not to be so obvious next time.”

Kenta busts out laughing, apparently noticing my hidden suggestion and finding it hilarious. Hisao seems to realize it as well, but he's already flushed red enough to start a fire, so I think he's suppressing his reaction. Amaya, meanwhile, starts pouring me a cup of tea while a devious smirk spreads across her face; she clearly has plans to do just that.

That kind of tension can wait until after brunch.

The mid-morning sun is warm and inviting, and the gentle breeze brings with it the promise of another calm, seaside day, despite the tense beginning. The surf is less wild than yesterday, today's prevailing wind being much less intense, so it might be a nice day for a swim. Then again, I'm on vacation, and lately I've been associating swimming with regimented exercise, so that might seem like work rather than play. Perhaps in the right company, it could be enjoyable, though. Inspecting my three companions, I think I might make the suggestion after we eat.

Amaya has a her bikini on underneath a thin, white sun-dress with gold trim, so I have no doubt she'd be willing to go for a dip. Kenta is wearing denim shorts and a white t-shirt, resting his feet up on the table as he nibbles on a croissant, apparently content to laze about. Next to me, dressed down as much as I've ever seen him, Hisao wears khaki shorts and a polo shirt, without a sweater-vest to be seen. He seems as surprised as Kenta to see me wearing something so girlish, but when he questions my attire, I retort by inquiring about his socks and sandals combination.

I should have expected that, really.

Asking about the absence of the other five, Amaya mentions that Tadao left with Naoko earlier; some secret mission neither would disclose. There's a hint of jealousy in her tone as she describes their clandestine exit shortly after waking, but I don't think she's really worried. Kenta describes how Shizune and Misha convinced Yoko to go with them to the marina, apparently for another secretive mission. Having thought the secrets would be done with once they got me here, I'm a little disappointed, but, whatever they're planning, it's probably going to be fun.

Speaking of fun, I stand and start helping to clear the table, which Amaya takes as a cue to head inside for a brief chat. Once we've entered the air-conditioned bungalow, she immediately turns to apologize, “sorry about that whole shower thing, I thought it was funny.”

“Don't worry about it,” I retort, “can't say I didn't have similar ideas...”

She laughs hard at that, nearly dropping the plates. Seeing her mischievous expression, I decide to stop her dirty little mind before it can start planning anything. “Just ideas, though,” I tell her, keeping a straight face, “nothing I'd act on.”

“Yeah, right,” she says dismissively.

Deciding not to turn this into another staring contest, I brush past her to the kitchen and set about washing while she does the drying. After a few minutes, I turn and suggest, “how about we go swimming after this.”

“We just ate!” she complains, offering a childishly serious face.

“That's an old wives tale,” I retort, “besides that surf looks inviting.”

“Fine,” she agrees, “I've been meaning to see what he's got under that shirt anyway.”

That catches me off guard. Turning a quizzical look her way, I wonder if she knows about Hisao's scar. Then again, she could just be teasing me since I've basically seen him shirtless almost every day for the past month. Remaining vague, I ask, “why do you say that?”

“Something keeps you chasing after him like a lost puppy,” she says, adding with a lewd smirk, “maybe that box was more fact than fiction.”

Ah, that... She would bring that up.

Unable to stop the hot flush across my cheeks as she brings up the little box I left in my desk, I keep myself busy by repeatedly sponging a dish that was already clean. Squeaking resonates through the kitchen as I repeatedly brush circles around its surface, wearing away the enamel.

“You brought it, right?” she inquires, nearly causing me to drop the dish.

“What?” I prompt, keeping my eyes on the sink.

Flipping the dish towel onto her shoulder she replies, “the box.”

Why would I?

“No, why?” I ask, awkwardly trying to sound innocent.

“You're either very smart or very stupid,” she says, making me turn a bewildered look at her, “don't worry, though, I brought some you could borrow~!”

“Borrow what?” Hisao asks, causing us both to spin around and regard his quizzical expression. Evidently he picked up a few more dishes to bring inside, and we didn't hear him.

Bursting into resounding laughter after a short pause, she leans against the counter-top and nearly falls over. Meanwhile I have a hard time not dropping the dish on the floor as I start laughing nervously.

“Nothing!” I exclaim, probably too forcefully. “Just girl stuff,” I add as a flimsy explanation, “what did you hear?”

He blinks a few times, apparently confused by our suspicious reaction to such a simple question. Amaya finally settles herself and holds up her hands, professing, “tampons~!”

What? Seriously?

Closing my eyes, I start slowly shaking my head as Amaya cracks up again. That may have actually been worse than just telling him about the prophylactics. When I open my eyes again, I can see the shocked expression on Hisao's face, and his following comment comes in a monotone whisper, “oh... sorry I asked.”

That said, he places the plate and teacups he was carrying by the sink, then turns an about face and walks back out to the deck. Neither of us even try to add to the explanation, being too dumbstruck to even thank him for bringing in the dishes. Amaya continues having trouble keeping her composure until he's gone, then she just flops down on the floor laughing hysterically.

“Tampons!?” I blurt, once I'm sure Hisao is out of earshot, “that's the best you could come up with?”

“I'm sorry, I blanked completely!” she says between guffaws, her eyes starting to streak with tears, “would you rather explain Nurse's gift?”

Bowing my head in defeat, I proclaim, “no, probably not. You probably killed any chance of anything happening, now, though.”

Shrugging as she stands, finally regaining muscular control, her face twists into a devious smirk. Before she can put her lewd thought into words, though, the door bursts open and in steps Kenta, saving me from another lascivious suggestion from my increasingly debaucherous friend. Although, if Hisao told him about what we said we were talking about, he might be here to make things worse. Looking at his sarcastic grin, I think I'm right.

“Which one of you should I be avoiding for the next few days?” he asks, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

Damn you, Kenta!

Though I should probably blame Hisao, who walks in behind Kenta looking a lot more apologetic than when he left; something tells me he didn't exactly intend to say anything. Crossing my arms, I lock eyes with Kenta's ocean-blue irises and exclaim, “you should avoid both of us!”

He takes a step back and holds his hand to his chest, protesting, “moi!? What did I do?”

“You were born, Gimpy~!” Amaya retorts, “that's enough reason!”

Kenta recoils and imitates a shocked expression, still clutching the front of his shirt, and gasps, “I'm hurt!”

“You'll live,” I remark, rolling my eyes, “maybe.”

Deciding we should change the subject before this gets any more embarrassing, I smile and point toward my intrepid cohort. She looks a little confused for a second, until I start to say, “we were thinking of going for a swim.”

“Aren't you supposed to wait a while after eating?” Hisao asks, apparently eager to leave the previous discussion behind.

“And what about your... condition,” Kenta inquires, apparently being less willing to let the conversation die. Seeing all three of us offer him disdainful looks, he amends his inquiry, “er, well...”

Evidently he's at a loss for words, so Hisao helps him out, “it'll take us a while to get changed, right?”

“Unless you wanna go skinny dipping,” Kenta suggests, back to his normal, quick-witted self.

“By all means, Gimpy,” Amaya retorts, “what difference would it really make in your case?”

“Oh the barbs!” Kenta exclaims, spinning and starting to walk toward the bedrooms. Wrapping his hands around the back of his neck, he warns, “I might just decide to wear my banana-hammock!”

“Please, don't,” Amaya says quietly, “seriously~!”

Around twenty minutes later, we're headed out toward the beach in our swim-wear, carrying towels, a cooler filled with soft drinks, and some big umbrellas for shade. Amaya's bright yellow, solid knot bikini is complimented by a purple sarong around her waist, complete with big yellow smiley faces. Meanwhile, my black and white, low-cut, zebra-print bikini is drawing a lot of attention from both boys, despite the white sarong covering my hips.

Amaya hardly seems surprised by their lack of attention toward her, but I honestly don't feel bad. Since I started swimming regularly, I'm actually happy with my curves, and her mournful expression is not going to dampen my mood.

Kenta's leering I could do without, though.

Hisao has his school swim trunks on, apparently not having any other kind of swim-wear, along with a white t-shirt. Kenta has his a black t-shirt slung over his shoulder, but he still has the same pair of denim shorts on; I hope he wasn't serious about the banana-hammock. Though, I doubt Kenta ever planned to go swimming since he has a hard enough time walking.

Once we've got our little temporary beach-camp set up in the sand, which is around twenty feet from the high-tide mark, Amaya tosses the sarong under her towel and dashes off to play hopscotch in the surf, whining, “it's cold!”

“You're not a reptile, you'll adapt!” Kenta remarks, “wait, you're not a reptile, right?”

Turning back to regard him sardonically, she sticks out her tongue and shakes her head playfully before quickly turning back. In her defense, I swat his arm and smirk. He responds by dropping down to sit in the sand, turning his eyes out at the rolling surf, wearing a contemplative expression. Running a hand through his sandy-colored hair, he leans against his good arm, caught in a brief reminder, it seems, that he shouldn't try certain things. In the interest of preserving his dignity, I don't bother pointing out when I see him have these reactions.

It's just not right using it against him like that.

Turning my gaze back out to watch Amaya, catching the rolling waves in her hand and tossing some of the foam back out to sea, I realize she too could potentially have a bad reaction just to the change of temperature. Rarely does she let things like that bother her, though. As much as her epilepsy really is on her mind all the time, she has developed a fairly Devil-may-care attitude when it comes to potential risks. Secretly, I think she's terrified of certain things, like the way she fears fireworks, but she never lets it show through that mischievous smile.

Hisao chose to keep his shirt on, which effectively hides the thin red line separating him from the so-called normal people of the world. Honestly, I don't blame him for wanting to hide it, especially considering he's still getting used to it himself. Looking at me with his warm smile, though it's mixed in with worried eyes, I'm hardly surprised when I see his hand moving up to trace along his sternum. There's a caged-animal quality to his expression, but he also looks determined; I've seen that look before.

Amaya reappears next to me as I apparently let my mind wander a bit while sharing a look with Hisao. Her giddy laughter breaking the spell as she exclaims, “Aiko! Fight the Swooner's powers~! Resist~!”

“What?” I prompt, sounding a little dazed.

Maybe I really am caught in some kind of spell.

She busts out laughing and sinks down to her knees. For a moment, she opens her mouth as if to respond, but just shakes her head and continues laughing, apparently content just to observe my spellbound state. Breaking out of my daze, I sit down next to her and smile up at Hisao, patting the sand, inviting him to sit with the rest of us. Something om his look tells me he intends to be up-front about his scar and his condition, and I'm ready to offer my support.

Taking my cue, he sits down between me and Kenta. Seeing his expression change, now hanging his mouth open as though caught between saying something and keeping a secret, my other two friends turn a quiet gaze at him. Giving him a slight nod, I glance at Kenta, then Amaya, and they both look like they know what's coming.

Deciding, apparently, to rip the band-aid off quickly, Hisao tugs his shirt off and sets it down beside him, puffing his chest out to ensure they notice the scar; though I doubt anyone within two-hundred feet wouldn't notice the surgically straight quarter-inch-wide red line curving ever so slightly as it snakes between his pectoral muscles. Letting out a sigh, he gives them a moment to inspect it, and perhaps wonder, before explaining about his heart attack, the four-month hospital stay, and even the seventeen pills he takes every day to keep his arrhythmia in check.

They've both heard similar tales before; two years at a school for disabled kids numbs you to a lot of medical jargon and related distressing emotions. However, I'm glad to see they're both sympathetic. This isn't just a random student to them; Hisao has become their friend.

“Tough break,” Kenta says after letting Hisao finish his entire explanation. Having been working against his condition since birth, he knows how difficult it is dealing with the associated pratfalls of being different and having physical restrictions. “If you wanna talk about it sometime, lemme know,” he says, pointing at himself with his thumb, “I've got some experience with that kind of stuff.” Assuming a delightfully flat expression, he adds, “no homo.”

Surprisingly, Amaya chirps, “we've all dealt with crap like that for a while.”

Turning a quizzical eye at her, I'm somewhat shocked she's saying anything; usually she clams up when someone starts talking about their condition. Shaking her head at me, she takes a deep, steadying breath and smiles, turning back toward Hisao and explaining, “I was diagnosed with epilepsy when I was five.”

Whoa! Is she having a seizure?

Seeing Kenta, and probably myself, looking at her with shocked expressions, she lets out a nervous giggle and forces a smile. “Tadao convinced me I should be a little more up-front about it,” she explains, her cheeks flushing for a moment as she adds, “don't go blabbering to people, though.”

Hisao already knew about the condition, but, after seeing what it nearly did to her relationship with Tadao, I'm sure he understands this is new territory. He's also smart enough not to let on he was already informed. Shaking his head, he holds up a hand and smiles, replying, “I'll tell no-one.”

Realizing how monumental a change this is in Amaya's behavior, and knowing it's really a positive step, I can't keep the proud smile off my face. Whatever else it may have put them through emotionally, I've found that pushing my mismatched friends together has really been more beneficial than detrimental. Seeing my almost motherly expression, Amaya punches my arm and exclaims, “stop looking so smug~!”

Kenta's nervous laugh breaks into a maniacal guffaw, to which Amaya rolls her eyes and folds her arms. She knows how significant a change it is, though, so she chooses to join in rather than berate him. Hisao seems somewhat relieved, probably because he expected a lot more focus to end up placed on him after telling about his condition.

“I told you they probably wouldn't even care,” I chide, smirking derisively, “are you gonna hide it again when the rest of them get back?”

“Oh my God, wait~!” Amaya suddenly stops her laughter and places a hand on my shoulder to steady herself. Taking a few quick glances between Hisao and I, she lets out a singular, “Ha~!” then closes her eyes and remarks, “so, the Swooner has a broken heart~?”

Cracking up laughing, she falls backward and curls into a fetal position, apparently overwhelmed by the silliness of the realization. Having never really thought of it that way myself, I find the incongruity humorous, but not quite on the same level. Kenta is similarly less fazed by it, but, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, he's shaking his bowed head as his shoulders bob with internal laughs.

After we all calm down, we don't end up swimming at all. Instead, we while away the rest of the morning telling embarrassing stories about our respective childhoods. Mostly Hisao listens, still remaining aloof about most of his past, but there are some topics that pique his interest.

Kenta grew up in the city like Hisao, which I already knew, but I had no idea how much he missed trolling the streets with his friends, and spending an inordinate amount of time at arcades. When he was sent to his first boarding school, at the start of middle school, he turned to online connections, and still maintains friendships with the same group through online gaming. Unlike Kenta, though, Hisao hasn't expressed any interest in reconnecting with his friends. Sharing a quick glance with me, he relates his distress with a simple look; he doesn't want to talk about feeling abandoned.

Feeling a little disappointed, but not surprised, I follow his cue. Changing the subject, I start telling about my late-night excursions tracking down fireflies while my parents thought I was safely asleep. Smiling mischievously, I tell them about the old seaman I met, or found, rather, out in a grassy field lying face-down; a story I still haven't told Mom. “He was passed out drunk, though I didn't quite understand that at the time,” I say, smirking innocently, “I thought he was dead, but I was curious, so I found a stick and-”

“He wasn't dead, right?” Amaya asks, looking shocked; I've never told her this story either.

“Hey, we listened to your tree-climbing story; let her finish!” Kenta scolds her, finishing with a laugh.

Crossing her arms, she sticks her tongue out at him and grunts, “hmph!”

“Anyway!” I continue, rolling my eyes at their exchange, “I started poking his shoulder. After a few solid shoves, he bolted upright and started screaming incoherently, slurring every word.”

Amaya looks relieved, but then screws up her face and asks, “what did you do?”

Laughing, I reply, “what else would a ten-year-old girl do?” Pausing for a second, for dramatic effect, I continue, “I ran away screaming; left the jar on the ground and bolted.” Cracking up laughing, quickly joined by three other voices, I flop down on the towel and let the laughter pour out of me.

After a few minutes, I hear Kenta shuffling a bit and look over to see him regarding me with a questioning look. Seeing my glance, he smirks and inquires, “what happened to the fireflies?”

Sitting up again, I shrug and offer a bewildered smile. “Never saw the jar again,” I explain, “though that wasn't the last time I saw the old man.”

As I'm about to continue the story, I notice Kenta's eyes shift; something behind me caught his eye. Turning, I can see a car in the driveway at the far end of the bungalow; a little blue sedan. Standing, I look over at Amaya, whom I figure might recognize the vehicle, but she shrugs and shakes her head.

All of us standing now, Hisao stretches upward on his toes beside me, making use of his height to see over the brush. “Tadao?” he mumbles, squinting.

Suddenly jealous of his height, I paw his shoulder and try to make myself taller, but it doesn't work. Instead, I sigh and ask, “are you sure?”

“Yeah, and Naoko... and...” he trails off, leaning leans his head forward and squinting; this time in thought. “I think it's her brother,” he says, raising an eyebrow, “I forgot his name-”

“Nobuo!” Kenta exclaims, starting to hobble his way up the sandy hill, “she actually did call him!”

Is that her surprise?

Hisao goes back and grabs his shirt before following us up the beach with Kenta. Catching Naoko's eye before she can run up the stairs, Kenta waves to her. While Tadao leads Nobuo through the kitchen door, both carrying brown paper grocery bags, she runs toward us with a giant smile on her face, signing, [Nobuo owed me a favor~!]

We all stop and let the little ball of energy run up to us, still grinning broadly. Once she's stopped, Kenta replies, [it was just a suggestion!]

For a second, I see her eyes catch something strange and I see a faintly shocked expression appear, but the smile returns quickly, redoubled. A fast glance at Hisao, and I realize he still has his shirt off; she probably saw the scar. He pulls it on quickly, shrugging, then assumes a neutral expression.

Never being one to bother about anything like that, she signs, [he agreed to cook for us and he brought some-] Stopping her signing, she glances at Amaya and I realize she might be looking for approval.

“She called in her brother to cook for us, and,” I say, then look back to Naoko and sign, [and?]

[Wine~!] she replies, [for cooking, and maybe some extra.] She pauses and starts swaying her shoulders for a second, then shrugs and adds, [okay, a lot extra~!]

“He brought wine,” I say, almost frowning, uncertain how Amaya might react.

The bright smile spreading on Amaya's face quickly dispels any thought I might have had about her wanting to follow her aunt's wishes. “Devious~!” she exclaims, practically singing the word, “I approve~!”

Naoko doesn't need a translation for Amaya's exuberant response, instead she bounces where she stands and grins happily. Glancing at Kenta, I get the sense he had something to do with this. “This is your doing, I imagine,” I accuse him, smiling playfully.

“I might have put the idea in her head, but it was really Tadao's-” he starts to reply, but stops himself and glances at Amaya. Shrugging, he lets out a sharp sigh and continues, “he told me there wouldn't be any booze, and I almost didn't come along.”

“You had nothing planned,” I retort. “You just wanna get us drunk and have your way with us!” I accuse him derisively, folding my arms and glowering.

Falling silent, he chuckles and shrugs again, apparently not having an argument; though I'm not sure which accusation is making him feel guilty; perhaps it's both on some level. Seeing him this quiet, maybe he hadn't really thought of it that way until just now. Feeling Hisao's hand come up on my shoulder, I remember it's not just Kenta and myself having this conversation.

“I'm sure his intentions were perfectly innocent,” Hisao says in Kenta's defense, though his tone is no less playful than my own, “besides, it sounds like a good idea.” That earns him an elbow to the side from me, and a dirty look, but I know he's just messing around.

Or is he? Hmm...

Kenta breaks his silence by adding, “see, maybe we'll get that harem going after all!”

Choosing to ignore his lecherous comments, Amaya brushes past Kenta and breaks into a jog headed for the stairs; likely to interrogate Tadao. While she's headed inside, I translate the brief conversation to Naoko, and she promptly directs a sneer at Kenta, but it's short-lived. Spinning and kicking sand at him, she beckons us to follow and heads inside.

Nobuo is already getting settled into the kitchen when we step in, and the bright smile on his otherwise sleepy expression makes me grin in response. Taller than his sister, really by a lot, he isn't wearing a chef's coat this time; opting for a faded blue polo shirt and black slacks. Inspecting the kitchen with his woodsy brown eyes, the delighted smile on his chubby features indicates he likes what he sees.

Glancing around the open areas, I notice Amaya and Tadao are nowhere to be seen. For a second, I wonder what debaucherous thing she might have dragged him away for, but I control the thought; I need to stop thinking such devious thoughts. Kenta heads for the bedrooms almost immediately, and I consider warning him, but I doubt he's any less observant where those two are concerned.

Naoko, meanwhile, waits expectantly for Nobuo to finish looking through the cabinets and testing the facilities. Leaning on her elbows against the island, her cheerful expression is edged with a little bit of anxiety. Whatever Nobuo thinks of the arrangement, she apparently wants him to enjoy the weekend.

Raising an eyebrow, he finally settles his gaze on her and shrugs. His monotone voice is accompanied by similarly drowsy signing, “this'll do.”

Naoko rolls her eyes at his lackadaisical response, but decides not to press him for anything further. Looking at me, she smiles and then glances past me to Hisao, who's inspecting the bags of groceries; though I'm not sure why, really.

Is he as interested in the alcohol as Kenta?

“What're you looking for?” I inquire, causing him to snap a surprised look on me and smirk nervously.

“Just looking,” he explains, “I don't know much about wine, but I'm curious, I guess.” Drawing out one of the bottles, he turns it over in his hands to read the label.

“There'll be plenty left when I'm done,” Nobuo reasons, his voice still in monotone. “I only agreed to this so I'd get some feedback,” he explains, “not so you can get my sister shitfaced.”

His vulgarity is a little surprising, but I notice he doesn't sign it for Naoko, instead substituting for the less antagonistic “drunk.” Evidently he doesn't want her hearing what he really said, and I don't want to seem ungrateful, so I don't mention the difference.

“He'd be getting me drunk, if anything,” I respond, quickly signing it for Naoko.

Hisao looks at me with an odd expression; something like an apology, but closer to shocked. Setting the bottle down beside Naoko, he looks over toward Nobuo and grins sheepishly. “Probably true,” he remarks, smirking at me, “maybe we can get her to sing for us, then.”

Blushing, I roll my eyes. Sometimes I wish he'd never found out I like to sing, but I can't help smiling at the vote of confidence. Still, I can't let him think that.

Feminine wiles, activate!

“Just sing?” I reply, turning my face into a mischievous pout, “nothing else?”

His eyes widen and he chuckles nervously while Nobuo translates for Naoko. Meanwhile, I lean against the counter and aim my considerable cleavage at him, maintaining the pout and adding a sway to my hips. The combination seems to be too much for him, and he turns away. The second he does so, I straighten up and stop swaying.

Naoko rolls her eyes at me and signs, [how long are you going to torture him?]

[I haven't decided,] I reply, giggling.

Hearing my laugh, Hisao turns back around. Still blushing, he protests, [no fair talking about me behind my back!]

“Sorry,” I reply, “just teasing.”

“I'm starting to think Kenta was right,” he comments.

“Right about what?” says a voice from behind me. Turning, I see Amaya and Tadao have emerged from their escapade. His question is accompanied by a derisive smile.

Hisao replies, “Aiko being a temptress.”

“Aren't they all,” Tadao remarks, reflexively pulling away from the oncoming jab to his ribs.

“Okay, for that, I'm gonna go change into something less revealing,” I say, grabbing Amaya's arm and walking toward the bedrooms.

She protests for a second, but, seeing my half-serious expression, she decides to go along with my plan; even turning to stick her tongue out at the boys. “You brought this on yourselves~!” she remarks as we disappear down the hallway.

Once in the bedroom, I head straight for the closet for a white t-shirt and then grab those cut-off jeans from my suitcase. Amaya puts her adorable white and gold sun-dress back on while I slip into the shirt and shorts.

After we've redressed, Amaya looks at me with a raised eyebrow and smirks. “Y'know, you're an evil genius sometimes,” she remarks.

“Only sometimes?” I reply, faking a hurt expression.

Shrugging, she turns toward the door, but stops when a sudden burst of distinct laughter shakes through the house. Announcing her arrival with a trademark, “Wahaha~!” Misha is apparently back; probably with Shizune and Yoko. Hearing her footsteps headed down the hall, we both stand away from the door, expecting it to burst inward.

Instead, the door opens slightly, and Misha's bright voice inquires, “are you decent~?”

Almost in unison, we reply, “yes.”

The door swings open and her bright grin leads as she walks in and heads for her closet-bag. Having noticed a bit of mischief in her expression, I close the door and watch as she starts flipping through her things.  Settling on a pink and white one-piece bathing suit, she sets it on her bed and starts undressing. Amaya and I look away, to be polite, and wait. Had it not been for her being practically naked, I would have walked right out the door.

She didn't even close the door. What if one of the boys walks by?

After a minute or so, she giggles and remarks, “you don't have to look away, y'know~!”

Neither of us acknowledge that invitation, choosing to continue staring at the closed door. I can't necessarily speak for Amaya, but I'm too modest to go around naked in front of anyone. Misha, apparently, isn't quite so reserved.

Do I find that surprising? No.

“You can look now~!” she exclaims, “you girls up for some fun~?”

Her question seems out of place considering the situation, but I turn around anyway. Now wearing the bathing suit with some khaki shorts, she grins brightly, almost deviously. Whatever she might have planned, her smile is intriguing enough, so I reply, “what do you have in mind?”

“Well, Shicchan wanted to charter a boat for the day, but Yoko-chan convinced her it was a bad idea,” she explains, making me raise an eyebrow.

“Well that's probably a good thing,” Amaya replies, “Aiko's not great with boats.”

“Wahaha~!” Misha laughs, nodding as she replies, “Yoko said she gets seasick.”

Before Amaya can reply further, I interject, “yeah, inner-ear deal.” Desiring to get away from that subject, I ask, “what's the alternative?”

“A competitive game we can all participate in,” Misha replies, which sounds rehearsed. She even holds up a finger as she finishes the thought, “volleyball.”

Shizune suggesting a potentially divisive activity? Totally normal.

Amaya and I share a quick derisive glance, then I reply, “well, it sounds better than a boat trip. Why volleyball?”

“Shicchan was unhappy about all the lazing about we did yesterday,” she explains, “besides, it'll give us a chance to jiggle for the boys~!”

Ulterior motives are sometimes much less secretive.

“I'm in,” Amaya says, apparently hooked by that idea. “So's she,” she adds, shoving my shoulder with a balled fist, “there's no way you're backing out, either~!”

Sighing a little, I simply nod. Little does she know I have a lot of experience with volleyball, though I haven't played in years. Misha grins and walks past us out the door. Amaya follows, her steps somewhat springy, while I slow down to close the door.

Yoko emerges from the room across the hall wearing a dark green t-shirt and black denim shorts with a similarly tentative smile on her face. Catching eyes for a second, we're probably having similar thoughts. Neither of us likely has much enthusiasm for the coming activity, though maybe for different reasons, but it's better than spending an afternoon hugging the bow of a little boat. Shizune steps out behind her and casts her bobcat grin my way, pulling a white t-shirt on over her black one-piece bathing suit.

[Sleep okay?] she asks, starting down the hallway.

[Yeah, once I could get to sleep,] I reply, following behind.

She nods a little and turns away, heading straight out through the kitchen and onto the deck where the rest of our troop is assembled. Amaya is already walking toward us when we step outside, her face lit up with a disturbingly bright smile. While I'm an excellent swimmer, she's leaps and bounds ahead of me in ground sports; especially tennis, but also other similar sports.

Though I know volleyball much better than she thinks.

“Misha tells me they decided on some ground rules already,” she explains, motioning for me to translate to Shizune. Doing so, I feel a little strange. Usually it's Misha performing this task, but her hands are occupied with a bundle of equipment; a net, poles and a bundle of balls, as she and Hisao start marching down the stairs. Apparently they visited a sporting goods store somewhere nearby, though I'm not sure why they bothered bringing it all up the stairs.

“Where'd the gear come from?” I ask, not really sure to whom I should look for the answer.

“Shed around the side,” Amaya replies, “it's full of stuff like that.”

Shizune smirks at me as I relay the answer and replies, [didn't you survey the surroundings when we arrived?]

[I was a little bit blindfolded,] I complain, shrugging.

She shakes her head and shrugs in response. Perhaps I should have taken a look around instead of lazing about on the patio all afternoon, but, dammit, I'm on vacation. Deciding not to defend myself verbally, I simply follow behind as we head down to the beach.

Once there, Misha and the boys set about staking the net in place above the high-tide mark while Yoko and Naoko draw out the boundaries. Meanwhile, Shizune, Amaya and myself figure out the teams and the rules.

Shizune's rules are simple; teams cannot include couples or close friends, and are to be made as evenly matched as possible. That means Hisao and I can't be on the same team, and neither can Amaya and Tadao, but it also separated Shizune and Misha. Playing to fifteen points with the ball being kept as long as a team continues to score, Shizune wants good teamwork to be awarded with an advantage.

Kenta bowed out instead of unbalancing the teams, deciding to play the referee; though I know it's really more because he isn't that great on his feet. Considering the other rather arbitrary rules, we concluded that the first team would consist of Hisao, Amaya, Yoko and Shizune while my team would include Tadao, Misha, Naoko and myself.

“We'll be the Swooners~!” Amaya blurts, slapping Hisao on the shoulder in response to Shizune's question.

Translating the name for her, I offer a roll of my eyes but she smiles and replies with an affirming nod. Kenta, who was standing by one of the poles, shuffles over and smirks at me, suggesting, “well if they're the Swooners because of Hisao, then you four should be the Crooners, for Aiko.”

Amaya claps her hands giddily and nods emphatically, “for once, I agree with the Elf-Lord~!”

Neither of them think to consult me on the matter, but I don't really mind. With the team names and members decided, the boundaries marked, and the net set, there's just one last detail anyone needs to bring up; the stakes. Now that Misha is free to translate, I turn a curious eye toward Shizune and innocently inquire, “so, what are we competing for?”

Before Misha even finishes signing my question, Shizune is grinning her bobcat grin and leaning back, pushing her glasses up with one hand while the other rests against her hip. Seeing that look, I imagine the idea she has in mind is particularly devious, and probably has something to do with her team rules. After a few seconds of anticipatory silence, she locks a stern gaze that hovers across all eight of us and replies, [the losing team must do whatever the winners want for the rest of the day, becoming indentured slaves to the winning team.]

How deliciously devious.

For a moment, nobody quite understands, but then the idea sinks in; especially after Misha translates verbally for Amaya and Yoko. The exact limit of the bargain isn't described, so it seems Shizune doesn't mean there to be one. The prospect is daunting, and the majority of the group looks a little pale, but they aren't protesting.

How much do they trust their friends, I wonder.

Unsurprisingly, the first one to respond is Kenta, who shrugs and laments, “of course, now that there's a chance of getting that harem, I'm on the sidelines.”

Watching him walk away dejectedly and slump down in the wicker chair he carried over from the patio, I try to cheer him up by mentioning, “you get to watch the whole thing, though.” Waving a disgusted hand at me, he folds his arms and looks away. His reaction is probably mostly bluster, but it likely comes from being genuinely hurt by the idea of missing out.

Before his reaction can dampen the mood, Amaya chirps, “excellent~! Always wanted a slave for a day.”

Tadao groans, “how is that any different from-” An elbow in his ribs stops his comment.

The only other rule Shizune set forth before we started the game seems peculiar, but somehow appropriate; no spiking. Nobody really disagreed, and Hisao visibly relaxed hearing that. As we took positions on either side of the net and decided a serving order, I wondered if Shizune knew about his heart condition.

Being the council President, she sees all the attendance records, and might be privy to some pertinent medical records. Though it's entirely possible she found out through Hisao himself, seeing as how they work together frequently. Perhaps it's more of a blanket statement, though, since all of us are at some disadvantage. Then again, maybe she just doesn't want to get pelted in the face by a rubber ball. Whatever her reason, I'm glad for the relief it brought him.

Having four on each team, we placed two in the front row and two in the rear, circling counter-clockwise each time there's a turnover. The rear right position being that of the server; which I have the privilege of being placed in first. Tadao stands directly in front of me, with Naoko to his left, making up the front line, while Misha digs in on my left.

Hisao commands the serving position on the other team with Shizune and Yoko in front and  Amaya beside. There's a bit more enthusiasm among some of us, but, with the stakes set out, and the potential humiliation involved with losing, nobody is looking distracted; even though Kenta is trying.

Leaning heavily against the pole on my right, his leery expression lingers around as all six girls are rather scantily clad compared to usual. All of us opting to wear swimming attire, most of which with very little supplemental clothing, I don't think he really regrets staying on the sidelines.

Straightening his face, he looks toward Shizune and inquires, [how do we decide first serve?]

“Coin toss~!” Misha bellows before Shizune can answer. Bounding toward Kenta, she reaches into her pocket and produces a silver coin, holding it out for him to inspect.

Rolling it over in his hand a few times, he indicates, “okay, this is heads,” holding it up for all to see, “and this is tails.”

Everyone nods in agreement, so he grins and looks to me. “Aiko,” he beckons, flicking the coin into the air, “call it!”

“Tails~!” I reply, watching the coin catch the sunlight as it flips through the breeze and falls to the sand with a soft thump.

“Tails it is,” Kenta remarks, picking up the coin, “Aiko decides who serves.”

For whatever reason, I want to watch Hisao serve, so I reply, “we defer to the Swooners.”

“Saw that coming,” Amaya groans.

Kenta tosses the ball to Hisao and steps back to sit in his little wicker chair. Misha returns to her position, and all our eyes settle into something like determination. Taking his time, Hisao surveys the field and finally centers his gaze on Misha, whom I suspect he thinks might be the weak link. Launching the ball skyward, he bats it on a rather direct trajectory, streaking straight at my pink-haired teammate.

Misha, being much more agile than she often seems, deflects the ball with ease, sending it in a lofty arc toward Tadao. His eyes follow it and he prepares to knock it back into Swooner territory, but Naoko signals her intent and he steps back to give her the opening. Leaping, she hammers the ball toward the back row where Amaya barely manages to get a hand on it, diving into the sand and sending the ball at an awkward angle toward Shizune.

Deflecting it upward, the ball loses most of its momentum as it drifts toward Yoko. She sees it coming and a huge smile spreads across her lips. As the ball comes down, she leaps up and attempts to slam it toward an empty spot between the four of us, but Tadao's reach and proximity thwarts her attempt. Bouncing downward from his outstretched hand, the ball streaks into the sand, landing just inches in front of Amaya's reaching hands.

“Dammit~!” she yells, leaping up on her knees and grabbing the ball before it skitters off down the beach, “you did that on purpose, String-Bean~!”

Tadao smirks and looks back toward me, nodding at her accusation. Kenta calls out, “point, Crooners!”

Tossing the ball over to me, Amaya huffs, “this'll be the last time you lead~!”

“We'll see about that~!” I taunt, catching the ball and nodding toward Naoko. She takes a few steps back in response and I take aim at my feint target, Shizune. The fake-out works, and when the ball sails over at Yoko, she's unprepared. Leaping to get a hand on it, the awkward spin causes it to deflect off of Amaya's flailing hand, and Hisao can't get to the wild ball before it drops into the sand.

“Crooners up two!” Kenta exclaims as Hisao chases the ball toward the surf.

Amaya turns a disdainful look on Kenta, but keeps her frustrations silent. When Hisao returns with the ball, he nods toward Kenta and tosses it over to Misha. Rotating forward, I take Tadao's position while he moves to Naoko's spot and she heads back to Misha's former position. Misha grins giddily as she narrows her eyes to pick a target, sending the ball floating toward Hisao with the heel of an underhanded strike.

The game continues on as both teams score points and Kenta keeps making colorful commentary. Some of which has nothing to do with the game, and earns him more than a few dirty looks from the girls; all in good fun. With the game going until one team scores fifteen points, there's plenty of time for taunting and bickering, though strangely Shizune and Amaya are getting along surprisingly well.

With the score tied at eight, Amaya steps up to serve, and I imagine she's aiming at me again. Though she attempts the feint, looking toward Naoko, I can tell from her repeated glances that the ball will be sailing my way. Tossing the ball up and leaping to hammer it as it falls, her aim is as predictable as the tongue sticking out of her mouth as I swat the ball upward toward Misha.

Giggling, her pink drills sailing wildly, she leaps up to meet the ball and punches it with the heel of her hand, sending it darting downward toward Yoko; whom we've discovered is the least adept at this game despite her exceptional footwork. This time, she manages to deflect the ball gracefully, setting up Shizune for another volley. Her face edged with glee, Shizune redirects the ball across the net and toward an empty space between Tadao and myself.

Diving down into the sand, Tadao pushes the ball up into a slight arc toward me, and I pummel it into the air, giving him time to recover. Falling toward Naoko, the ball cuts a line through the air and I see Hisao standing at the net, ready to deflect Naoko's impending volley. She notices his intent, but her stature makes changing her target difficult, so she opts to launch the ball skyward over the net rather than risk a hasty ricochet.

Amaya is there to punt the ball back toward Hisao, and he backs away to prepare for an empowered strike. Catching the ball with the heel of his fist as it drops, he sends it blazing over the net, clipping the top and arcing downward, straight at Tadao. Responding with a grunt, he balls his fists and volleys, but the amount of power behind Hisao's blow causes the ball to bounce much harder than Tadao predicted. Sailing skyward, it arcs out toward the surf, and I give it chase, but the wet sand claims it before I can even get close.

“Point Swooners!” Kenta bellows. As I'm dipping down to grab the ball, I can hear slapping hands; high-fives all around for the Swooners.

Looking back, I angle a derisive glare at Amaya and toss her the ball, remarking, “finally took that lead you promised~!”

“I plan to keep it,” she replies, “no way I'm becoming someone's slave~!”

“Hey can we take a breather?” Hisao asks, looking a little ragged.

A few frustrated glares turn his way, but Kenta quiets them. “You wouldn't want your slaves passing out, would you?” he asks, smirking and crossing his arms, “we should go see why Nobuo isn't out here, anyway.”

[He's probably asleep,] Naoko comments, heading toward the bungalow.

Kenta follows her along with Yoko while the remainder walk over and sit down under the umbrellas we had set up earlier. Hisao sits down next to me, still looking a little flustered; I worry he might be pushing himself a little too much to save face. Regardless of how much the daily swims help strengthen his heart, it can still just decide to start beating erratically if he strains himself.

Instead of saying anything about that, I take his hand and lean against him, whispering, “having fun?”

“Yeah, actually,” he replies, sighing as he falls back to lay down in the sand.

Rolling over on my stomach, I lay down next to him and sit up on my elbows. Looking at him sidelong, I compliment, “you're not too bad at volleyball.”

“Really?” he replies, “I've been faking it the whole time. You're the one who seems to know what she's doing.”

Smirking at the compliment, I mention, “well, I did play this game a lot years ago, but not so much lately.”

Nodding, he closes his eyes and smiles inwardly. Letting him rest for a while, I lay down with my chin on my arms and close my eyes. The warm breeze floating across the beach has a soothing effect on the muscles I've been straining to keep up with the game; I'm not used to darting around chasing a ball. My shoulder has been aching almost since that first serve, but I'm not about to admit any kind of discomfort; it might seem like strategy.

After a few minutes of rest, I open my eyes and look over at Hisao. Still lying down, the ragged look he had when we sat down has left, replaced with something more serene. Curious about the change, I inquire, “what're you so happy about?”

“Well,” he says, keeping his eyes closed, “if we win, what will that mean about your years of experience.”

“You're not gonna find out!” I retort, “don't get cocky just 'cause your team is leading!”

“Oh, now who's the one that was cocky for the entire first half of the game?” he questions, turning a mocking smile at me, “Amaya, wasn't she the one taunting us the whole time?”

Amaya looks away from her written conversation with Shizune, something I can only imagine is a strategy meeting, and responds, “ever since the first play of the game.”

“I have not!” I protest, sitting up on my knees, “I was just calling things how I saw them.”

“That's my job,” Kenta chimes in, shooting me a sarcastic grin. Evidently they've returned without Nobuo.

“Oh I see how it is; everyone dump on Aiko,” I say, standing and folding my arms, “we'll see who ends up being the slaves~!” Marching back over to the net, I glance over toward the group and give a nod, indicating the break is over.

Standing and dusting themselves off, they get back into their positions, Amaya palming the ball. Tossing it to Yoko so she can serve, I catch a narrowed look from Amaya as she whispers something in her ear. Yoko nods and stretches her arms, ball in hand, and smirks at me; I get the sense Amaya's plan is to work on wearing me out. Looking over at Shizune, I see her face is lit up with that bobcat grin, confirming my suspicion; this second half is going to be a trial.

“Don't let her tell you what to do,” I say, breaking Yoko's concentration.

Two can play this psychological game.

Hefting the ball up with one hand, she belts it like a tee-ball, sending it sailing toward me with an awkward horizontal spin. Angling my hand to counter the spin, I deflect the serve upward toward Naoko. She spots the ball and waves to indicate she's ready, then bounces it skyward toward Tadao, our resident return expert.

Batting it with the palm of his hand, he sends it sailing downward, over the net, toward Amaya. Quickly reacting, her palms come up and send the ball into the air backward toward Shizune. Pressing it forward and upward, Shizune sets up Hisao, who pummels the ball with a waiting fist, sending it rocketing toward me once again.

This time I'm ready for it, and I deflect the ball upward, taking away most of its momentum by pulling my open palm away as it connects. Watching it fly up, Tadao calls out, “I got it!” and proceeds to slap it down, again toward Amaya; his favorite target.

She darts forward to get an arm under the rubber bullet, but the trajectory and spin sends the ball flying away into the tall grass. Leaping to her feet and glaring at him, she bellows, “dammit, Tadao~!”

Hisao heads over to grab the ball while Tadao replies, “what can I say, I like the idea of having a slave!”

“Hey, speaking of slaves, where's Nobuo?” Amaya asks wryly, directing the question toward Naoko. Tadao translates for her, looking equally curious.

[He's not my slave,] she protests, [he's kinda hapless and lonely, though. Didn't want to spend the day meeting family without his ex.]

“Kinda sad, really,” Kenta comments, “he's in there taking a nap.”

“Your serve,” Hisao says as he returns with the ball. Tossing it to me, he adds mockingly, “try not to outshine us too much.”

“Count on it,” I mumble as I move into the server's position. Once everyone's settled, I decide to use an underhanded serve, so I draw my hand back and hold the ball steady, winding up and firing the ball in a streaking line straight off the back of Tadao's head.

“Oomph!” he groans, dropping down on one knee.

Did I really just do that?

Slapping both hands over my mouth, I let out a stifled yelp and take a few steps forward. “Oh crap, I'm sorry!” I yell in a pleading tone, “are you alright?”

Turning back, he's smiling, though his hand is firmly pressed at the base of his skull. “I'll be fine, where's the ball?” he asks, turning toward Kenta, “and does that count?”

Kenta is too busy laughing to reply, but Shizune seems to have some idea. [I'd call that a false start, but wouldn't count it as a point,] she signs, then looks at me and grins, [try not to forfeit the game by knocking out one of your own players.]

“Yeah, you don't wanna end up with me subbing for Tadao,” Kenta says, finally gaining control over his laughter.

“As much as I'd like to win, try not to kill my man, there, Swimderella,” Amaya taunts.

Swimderella? That one's new.

Retaking our positions after Tadao gives another nod, I serve again, this time over Tadao instead of through him. Continuing back and forth, the game reaches another tie at twelve. Still keeping to their apparent plan to force me into plays, most of their serves come my way, and I've had to use every trick I know to counter their volleys. Meanwhile my shoulder feels half-dead; I'm starting to think I pulled something.

The Swooners keep ahead, but me and my Crooners continually catch up, until finally we're tied at fourteen. Tossing the ball to Amaya, Kenta remarks, “this will be game point, so make it count!”

Leering at me snidely, Amaya yells, “I can't wait to start ordering you around~!”

“Don't get your hopes up,” I retort, “the game isn't over yet!”

“It's about to be~!” she taunts, tossing the ball up and battering it toward Naoko; a surprising change in tactics.

Naoko isn't caught unaware by any means, easily deflecting the ball skyward in my direction. Misha laughs, “Wahaha~!” as the ball sails down and I give her a nod. She moves forward as I punt the ball in her direction and she leaps to send it sailing fast and hard into Swooner territory, where it's deflected by Shizune.

Yoko is there to send it skyward again, down toward Hisao. His typical forward thrust sends the ball streaking toward Tadao, who defiantly palms the ball, sending it sailing back over the net toward Amaya. She launches the ball toward Shizune, who deflects the ball into an arc toward an empty spot in our back row. Misha dives and gets her hands under it, sending it toward Naoko, who launches it into the air.

As Misha stands, I watch Tadao preparing to batter the ball back over the net. I can see his intended target, Yoko, stepping back to put some distance between her and the impending rocket. Her feet firmly planted, she almost looks feral as the ball streaks down at her, but the amount of force in the strike causes her to overbalance as it deflects off her hand, headed skyward.

Falling backward, she stumbles and yelps, backpedaling out of control. Hisao is too busy watching the ball to see her coming, so when she plows into him, he's caught completely by surprise. Falling over in a heap, Yoko's shoulder slams into Hisao's chest as they land, and I hear him grunt painfully as the ball drops into the sand beside them.

“Point Crooners!” Kenta calls out, “Crooners win!” A chorus of cheers follow from my teammates, but I'm too busy running over to Hisao to join the celebration.

Yoko looks a little dazed as she rolls away and sits up, but Hisao is positively beside himself. His eyes are wide with pain or fear and he's clutching at his chest as his face turns bright red. Having seen him fake this before, there's a moment where I'm almost ready to mock him, but this is different.

There's no mirth in his expression.

“Hisao!” I yell, louder than I probably should, and drop to my knees beside him, cradling his head. His eyes slam shut and seem to turn toward me, but his reaction is otherwise neutral. My hand across his back can feel the erratic pounding of his heart; much quicker and harder than I'd ever noticed. A sinking feeling creeps over me, and it's accompanied by more than concern. My mouth is dry, my lungs are strained and I'm on the verge of tears just seeing him like this; I don't want to see this.

I don't ever want to see this.

Whatever else Hisao might mean to me, I never want to see someone I care for in pain, especially not this kind of pain, but, right now, he doesn't need me to start blubbering or screaming. I need to focus. I need to stay calm. I need to not panic. Hisao needs me to remain clear, calm and collected. I took a CPR class, so I know what to do if his heart stops, I think. Amaya was there; she probably remembers, and can probably help.

Do I even remember?

Realizing his heart hasn't stopped, I shove those thoughts aside and concentrate on keeping my face from looking panicked. Though I don't think I'm being particularly successful. Failing that, I choose to at least keep my voice calm as I lean forward and whisper, “are you alright?”

Having absolutely no idea what to do, his complete lack of a response causes my insides to tie in knots. The panicking feeling begins to overtake me, but I fight it and look up toward Tadao. Apparently no less concerned than myself, his grim expression is accompanied by six others. Yoko looks worst of all, probably feeling guilty for having triggered the attack, but I can deal with that later.

“What's wrong?” someone asks, my mind too addled to understand it clearly.

Hisao nudges me and takes a deep breath, then another. His eyes open and look at me pleadingly. Getting the sense he he doesn't really want to have people find out like this, I decide this is no time for foolish pride. “He has arrhythmia; a heart condition,” I explain in a surprisingly calm voice, “getting knocked in the chest like that can cause problems.”

Yoko looks at me apologetically, her face as pale as the morning before Tanabata. Backing away, she hides behind Naoko before I realize I'm giving her a disdainful look. Straightening my face into something less threatening, I feel bewildered by my own reaction; it's not her fault, really. Her losing her balance and falling against him was an accident, so there's really no sense blaming her.

But this is Hisao and he's... I... Dammit!

“Should we call emergency?” I hear Kenta ask, and I'm about to agree with him. Hisao continues his heavy breathing and I look back at him, scanning my eyes over his reddened expression, looking for a hint of what he's going through. Neither of us probably has any real idea what to do, even if we do know CPR, and, at some point, it's just being irresponsible not to call for help.

Hisao protests with a hand on my arm, tugging me toward him and huffing, “no!”

Elated that he finally said something, I smile, but quickly frown. “Are you sure?” I ask, wondering is he's just trying to salvage his pride, “you don't look that great.”

Still clutching at his chest, he gasps for air and closes his eyes, steadying his quickened breaths. Continuing to take deep breaths, the redness of his face begins to dissipate. Holding up a hand to ward off our concerns, like when he's finished his laps in the pool, we give him the time to calm down and regain control over his breathing.

Crouching beside him, Shizune places her hand on his opposite shoulder and shakes her head at him, looking as apologetic as Yoko. [Had I known this could happen, I would have chosen a less strenuous activity,] she remarks, turning her uncharacteristically sympathetic expression toward me, [why didn't you say anything?]

“She's not to blame either,” Hisao forces out between breaths. Still not quite recovered, he turns a loving look my way and smiles, reassuring me, “she's been protecting my pride for a while.”

“She has a habit of doing that,” Kenta remarks, “good intentions and all.”

[Are you sure you don't want to see a doctor?] Shizune asks, standing up and nodding toward Misha.

“I think I'm fine,” he says, taking one last big breath, “just got the wind knocked out of me, and-”

“You missed the ball~!” Amaya remarks, trying to lighten the mood, “but I'll forgive you... eventually.”

Hisao raises an eyebrow at her and retorts, “you didn't get it either.”

“Rude!” she balks, crossing her arms, “you just want all the girls falling over you~!”

“I didn't-” Yoko protests, looking shyly at the ground, blushing fiercely, “I didn't do it on purpose!”

Looking toward Yoko, Hisao offers a kind smile and reaches his hand up for her to take. “No worries,” he says, assuring the petrified girl he doesn't hold it against her, “I zigged when I should have zagged.”

Blushing slightly, she helps him up and quickly retracts her hand, looking toward me with an apology written in her eyes. Not to be outdone, I stand and offer, “sorry, I got a little over-protective, I guess. Tadao had more to do with it than you did.”

My accusation doesn't go unnoticed as Tadao turns a playful glare on me and retorts, “hey, I earned us four slaves with that maneuver!” The Swooners let out a collective groan at the reminder; minus Shizune of course.

Yoko smiles lightly as Naoko grabs her hand and starts leading her toward the bungalow. “I'm doomed!” she proclaims, giggling as she's led to whatever task her little green-haired friend has in mind. Seeing her recover so quickly makes me smile despite the circumstances.

Shrugging, Amaya nods and looks toward Tadao, rolling her eyes. “So, Master,” she says, emphasizing his new title, “what would you have me do?”

“Make me a sandwich,” he replies quickly.

That's all he had planned?

“You will feed it to me under the shade of yonder umbrella!” he adds, pointing toward the patio.

Ah, well, that makes more sense.

“I'll feed it to ya, alright~!” she balks, turning to head inside.

“Fetch me my hat as well,” Tadao calls after her, “this sun is somewhat of a bother.”

Amaya waves over her shoulder, but says nothing in response. Regardless of the outcome, she's never been one to welsh on a bet, and I think she might actually enjoy being Tadao's slave.

As for Hisao...

Squeezing my hand, Hisao comments, “I guess I'm your slave now, too.”

“Technically,” Tadao says with a smirk, “they're all our slaves.”

Misha chirps, “yep~! Shicchan didn't specify who would be who's slave, so-”

“This one's mine!” I claim, grabbing Hisao's shoulder.

“Wahaha~!” she replies, leaning toward Shizune, “we know~!”

Shizune sighs and rolls her eyes, frowning at Hisao and signing, [count yourself lucky we weren't on opposing teams.]

Standing, he grins and waves dismissively, then replies, [whatever you might have had planned couldn't be worse than building those stalls.]

Smirking derisively, she starts walking by, swaying her hips playfully, and signing, [you'll never know.]

What the hell was that?

Hisao's eyes follow her as she walks by, and his gaping expression is all the response I need to justify elbowing his ribs. Coughing, he looks at me sheepishly and glances toward Misha, who hasn't yet followed her friend. Looking Hisao over, she smirks and shakes her head, saying, “not gonna say it~!”

Brushing past him, she follows after Shizune, giggling the whole way. Tadao and Kenta follow after them at a leisurely pace, leaving us standing on the beach. After a few seconds, he leans toward me and kisses my cheek. Turning a raised eyebrow at him, I inquire, “I didn't ask you to kiss me, Slave, what was that for?”

“Sorry, Master,” he replies, “I wanted to thank you for your concern.”

Laughing at his use of such a title for me, I wrap my arm around his back and lean against him in a side-hug. “I was just worried you would have to welsh on the bet~!” I retort, looking at him mischievously, “I have some things planned.”

“Yes, Master,” he replies, nodding stiffly.

Still uncertain exactly how much he's recovered from the spill, and the ensuing attack, I'm tentative about being too elaborate with my demands. However, there's a pain in my shoulder I'm sure he could help do away with, and that's just for starters. Smiling at his compliant attitude, I start walking us back toward the bungalow, my head full of ideas.

I think I'm going to enjoy this.
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Chapter 22: http://pastebin.com/hNV6wiDA