Tomorrow's Doom A.1/C.3 - Flash of Brilliance

Chapter 2: http://pastebin.com/sw7xDTnC
____________________________________
Chapter 3 – Flash Of Brilliance

Sleeping at odd hours has strange effects on future sleep patterns. After returning to my dorm late last night, I made myself a bowl of Ramen and sat down at my desk to play digital solitaire for a few minutes. A few minutes stretched into a few hours -I don't remember how many games I played- and when I looked at my clock it had passed midnight. I immediately closed my laptop, dropped onto my bed and fell asleep.

Two hours later I awaken, groggy and muttering, glance at the clock and throw a pillow at it in disgust. Rolling over, I try going back to sleep, but my mind betrays me -like it always does- so now I lay here in bed thinking about Amaya's seizure, booth signage, clothes shopping, Tadao's wink, and screaming at the new guy. Though, I began to wonder if he'd intentionally set me up for that outburst.

He didn't seem like a smooth-talker, but...

He was so quiet and coy, and I'd assumed he was as nervous as myself. That perpetual frown as we sat in silence seemed to scream, “Cheer me up!” However, the way he wandered into the classroom without my noticing, sat through lunch with barely a word, and looked like a lost puppy the whole time, that could all have been an elaborate act. He wasn't planning to go to the Festival, so he said, but that didn't make any sense. It's a festival; it's fun by default.

Why would he even consider not going?

He's new around here, I'll give him that, but that frown on his face didn't seem like anything more than a recent addition – an anomaly. He must have had fun before whatever happened to him happened to him; he had to remember what it was like going to a party and seeing your friends.

Maybe that's it?

He just started school here, and so far the only people I've seen him talking to are Shizune, Misha and myself – he shared a nod with Ito, but that doesn't count. Unless one of them asked him to go, it would probably be a rather empty experience for him. That thought makes me feel awful, and I feel bad for doubting his sincerity, but he did say he would go, at least. Saving him from a boring day cooped up in his room sleeping while his new classmates have fun was worth the hurt feelings, I think.

Well, maybe not 'saving'.

It's not like it was a life-or-death situation. If he decides to go, I will have had something to do with it, and I can feel happy about that, but he would have been fine otherwise, right? I should still apologize for yelling at him, especially around so many people; even though most of them probably didn't hear a word of what I'd said. It's the principle of the thing.

Still, if it wasn't intentional, why the interest in me?

Shizune and Misha seemed to be taking to him, so they probably offered to show him around – it's something the Class President is supposed to ensure, really. They probably pestered him about joining the Student Council through most of the morning, and I'd basically told him to trust Shizune's intentions. So, then, why not just take the easier route and have lunch with them, assuming they asked. It took him an extra ten minutes just to find my classroom.

I should have shown him on Thursday.

Was he that interested in seeing me again that he ducked the Student Council and wandered the halls trying to find me? Did he go out of his way like that to be polite and not disappoint me after saying he would stop by? Did Shizune put him up to it? That makes no sense; why would Shizune even know about it?

Am I that special?

This is all so confusing. Now I wonder if Amaya is awake. She'd know what to tell me; or at least she'd give me a swift kick that might reboot my clouded mind. Glancing at the clock, I see it reads, “2:34 am.” Even having slept most of the morning, Amaya is probably out like a light. She made a point not to show it, but on days she had seizures, they leave her feeling like a zombie. She'll be up in a few hours, though, and once her inquisition is over I can ask her what she thinks I should do.

With that thought in mind, I roll over and suddenly feel the fatigue that had escaped me. My eyes close, and I drift back to sleep holding an image of that happy smile I wanted to see again.

Loud banging wakes me sometime later, and I sit up fast enough to make my head loll with a wave of dizziness. “What?” I yell, my voice reduced to a croak.

Through the door I hear a muffled Amaya. “You're gonna be late, Aiko. Get up!”

Hearing that, I turn my groggy head to see the clock. Now It reads, “7:47 am,” and I throw my covers away, standing up more cautiously, but with urgency. Quickly changing into my uniform, I glance at myself in the mirror and run a hand through my thick hair a few times, trying to matte it down.

Amaya calls again as I hear her try opening the locked door. “I'll leave without you, y'know,” she barks.

“I'm up, I'm up,” I call through the door, “just gimme a sec, okay?”

I hear her whistle a sigh. “Just hurry up...” she trails off into what I assume is a yawn.

A few minutes later, after rushing through getting my nylons on and straightening my uniform, I open the door and Amaya rolls her eyes at me. “Late night?” she asks with half-open eyes.

“Early morning,” I correct her.

Another eye roll and a shrug. “Whatever, let's just go. You and I have some business to discuss,” she states as a devious grin highlights the dimples in her cheeks.

Oh boy. She knows. I'm caught. Someone told. I'm doomed. Let the inquisition begin. Someone kill me now. Get it over with, please!

I barely hear her ask, “I heard Tadao was all concerned about me yesterday.”

I start blurting things out before she even finishes, “well, you see, I invited him to lunch, and didn't think he'd go, but then he did, and we sat there, and there was this long awkward silence, and then I asked about the- wait what?” I stop my rambling and cast her a bewildered glance. Staring at me with an eyebrow raised, she hangs her mouth open looking perfectly perplexed, and I hang my head down.

I've condemned myself.

“What are you talking about?” she asks, hooking her thumbs in the straps of her backpack and narrowing her eyes.

I start sputtering, “I- I, uh. Well, you see...” My mouth seems to have spent all its ability to speak on that run-on sentence a second ago.

She raises her eyebrows and shakes her head. “I asked you about Tadao, not your boyfriend,” she says, tossing her shoulders to lift her backpack into a more comfortable position.

Oh God. This is worse!

I stutter and mumble, staring at my shoes – which I now realize aren't tied. Ignoring that, I continue babbling until I feel her hand on my shoulder. I look down at her, straight into her eyes. She looks a little bewildered, which is fine, I guess, but then she speaks, “I was just kidding.”

I'll never play poker.

She starts laughing hysterically as I squirm under her gaze, and I feel like a perfect fool.

Twice in as many days, this has been a good week.

After her hysterics calm, I manage to finally say something, “how did you-”

She interjects, “Tadao's a worse liar than you.” She looks away in contemplation, letting her laughter subside. She looks back to finish her story, “as sad as that sounds. He spilled the whole story on our walk back to the dorms.”

I nod, realizing that should have been my first guess. Tadao Yoshida may be a wordsmith, but his conversational skills are somewhat lacking. He's too direct and honest to lie convincingly.

“Besides," she adds, looking at me dismissively, "I think half the school knows about it by now, so I'd have found out eventually.” She starts walking down the hall and I remember my shoes. Ducking to tie them, I see her stop and turn to ask, “so, what's the new guy like, anyway? I haven't seen him around yet.”

I take the time tying my shoes to come up with an answer. I decide to use the word that I've found best fits since I first met him. “Mysterious,” I answer cryptically.

“Re-eally?” she says, leaning back and separating the word into distinct syllables. She unhooks one of her thumbs from the bag strap and places a finger on her chin - her thinking pose. I know it well.

“Yeah, y'know...” I stand and fall in step as she starts walking, “new and mysterious.”

When we're outside and headed across to the main building, she finally speaks again, “so what about my question?” I look at her dumbly, not remembering. She lets out a frustrated sigh and leans forward emphatically to clarify, “about Tadao, duh?”

“Oh, he's-” I stop myself and take a moment to think. She and Tadao have been dancing around each other for the past year or so – studying together, joining clubs together, reading together... bothering me together. It's almost like they're together, but not. Neither one has worked up the courage to ask the other what their relationship actually means. They're the cutest non-couple at Yamaku.

Still, I don't want to force them together, I'm not sure what would happen to our little trio if things didn't work out. I've remained neutral for this long, knowing both sides but saying nothing. “He was worried is all. Like anyone would be. Even the new guy was concerned when I told him you were out sick,” I explain.

She pales a little, looking angry. “You told the new guy about-”

“No.” I stop her, ”I told him you weren't feeling well is all.” I watch as the anger melts off her face before saying, “it's not my place to tell people about your condition,” quickly adding, “nor is it yours to tell about anyone else's.” I give her a side-long look with that. She knows what secrets I'm referencing, and I know she understands my reasons. Even though she's a bit of a gossip, I know she'd never tell anyone. It never hurts to remind her, though.

“So Tadao wasn't any more worried than the new guy?” she asks, sounding a little disappointed.

Deciding to make her smile, I mention, “he knows you better, so he was a lot more worried, I think.” Hearing that accomplishes my goal, and the disappointment leaves her expression. However, seeing her face light up at the mere mention of Tadao's concern makes me want to bring an end to their dodging. If hearing it from a third party can make her happy, hearing it from the real thing might make her sing - not that I'd want to hear her sing ever again.

I didn't know it was possible to sing 'Happy Birthday' off-key.

An idea formulates in my devious mind as I decide to drop the other shoe, “he cares about you, y'know.”

Blushing, she looks away. It's the answer she wanted, I'm sure, but I don't think she expected it from me. So far, I've been a neutral observer, she understands, and never expects me to be so emphatic when she asks questions like this. Trying to stay out of their relationships, though, has become a full-time job sometimes. With the Festival fast approaching, their asides and queries will probably increase in frequency.

Part of me -the motherly part- wants to try and protect both of them from each-other, but, the longer this goes, the worse the outcome could be for everyone involved. That thought emboldens me, so, desiring to be done with their games and give them a chance at being happy, I decide it's time I nudged them together. The actual nudging really shouldn't be difficult. All I have to do is put them in a situation where they're together, alone, with a presumed sense of mutual understanding.

They're already great together, getting along like a married couple –sometimes disturbingly so- and with the Festival inbound, I think I already have an idea how to accomplish my goal. Stepping through the doors and heading for the stairs with Amaya, the thought occurs to me that if they were out on dates some nights, they might leave me alone – and I'd have time for... other activities.

Let's not get ahead of myself.

Walking into the classroom a few minutes late, we're both surprised to find Ito hasn't arrived yet. before sitting down, I notice Tadao and decide look him over –inspecting him like a piece of meat- to ensure he's good enough for Amaya. Already knowing the answer, this is mostly perfunctory, but Amaya is my best friend - only the best for her.

Dreamily staring into his notebook, writing something, Tadao has his hearing aid switched off to reduce the chance of being disturbed. Basically, he's completely oblivious to what's going on, and I can look him over without fear of consequence; assuming I don't linger for too long.

His long, sandy-colored, messy hair hangs in his face, causing him to constantly throws his free hand across his brow to brush strands out of his eyes. Drawn, gaunt features are angled into the squint of his tired-looking hazel eyes; reflecting the serenity of his dream-like waking state. A narrow, cleft chin rests askew as his jaw shifts to one side, caught in thought. Thin, narrow shoulders are pulled forward as he hunches, the position belying his his height. Long, skinny legs extend in front of him, crossed awkwardly, as he balances on the front of his chair. He looks uncomfortable, but I've seen him sit like that for hours without complaint.

Nodding approvingly to no-one in particular, I take my seat just in time to hear Ito's heavy footsteps approach the door. Bursting through it with the subtlety of a rhinoceros, he barrels across the room in a huff and lands heavily in his chair. The class mostly ignores him; they're used to seeing him barge in late, winded and sweaty.

After his display of middle-aged bluster, I do notice a few casual glances in my direction, but I try to ignore them. The novelty of yesterday's incident hasn't completely worn itself out – unlike poor Ito-sensei; huffing and panting like he just finished a marathon. Eventually he stands and writes out a textbook assignment on the board, turning to sign, [that'll be due Monday,] before flopping back down in his chair and digging his book out to read.

He must really be out of it if he can't even speak.

It's Saturday, so it's only a half day, and I'm excited to have the time after school to do some shopping. Digging into the assignment verily, I finish well ahead of the rest of the class, then turn to help Amaya and Tadao. When English class starts, I turn to them for recompense from their adept literary minds.

About half way through the assignment, I turn to Tadao and ask, “so what are you doing for the festival after your shift?” I keep my head down so he can't see my devious grin. Amaya gives me a cold stare, but I ignore her; this is for their benefit.

And my own, I'll admit.

Tadao squirms and lets out a chuckle as he sinks deeper into his chair. “I hadn't really thought about it,” he says finally.

“Well,” I say, ignoring Amaya's protesting eyes, “Amaya and I are going to dress up and play some games if you wanted to tag along.” Amaya lets out a relieved sigh, the look in her eyes fading to one of quiet thanks.

But, I'm not done. Mwahaha!

“Or, I could take your shift at the booth," I suggest with a cordial smile, "and you could wander around with Amaya for a while.” I end with a practiced smile, trying to hide the deviousness of my offer.

So, there it is.

My entire plan rests on Tadao taking the bait and playing hooky, basically. As I sit there with an expectant look, I glance at Amaya and have to stifle a laugh. Seeing her blush glare at me angrily at the same time is both adorable and scary. Tadao looks away at the ceiling, something he seems to do to avoid eye-contact more than think, but I can almost hear the gears turning.

While he's looking away, I feel a slap on my arm. Amaya is probably twice as uncomfortable, but this is good for them. I'm tired of being their go-between. It's time they actually sat down and talked.

Where better than at the Yamaku Festival?

After a silence that I imagine is much more uncomfortable for them than it is for me, Tadao looks back and nods, forcing a half smile and swallowing hard. Amaya smiles too, and letting the idea wash over her seems to put stars in her eyes. I lean back in my chair and offer a raised eyebrow, “you'll owe me for this.”

I'm taking his shift, after all.

Tadao grins at me while Amaya shoots daggers at me with her stony expression; I laugh a little to myself knowingly. If things work out the way I think they'll work out, these two will be wanting to thank me anyway; assuming things don't go horribly wrong. Seeing the casual glances they keep levying at each-other over the rest of class, though, I don't think I made a mistake.

After the half-day ends, Amaya hangs on my arm and talks at a mile a minute; her lips seeming to move faster than the sounds. Laughing quietly to myself, I listen to her prattle on about needing a new yukata, shoes, a haircut, maybe some makeup, and a million other unnecessary things. All she really needs is to bring herself, but I let her have the fantasy.

In the middle of her babbling, I manage to mention I wanted to go into the city after class, and she agrees wholeheartedly. Running off with child-like giddiness, I follow her at a more contemplative pace back to our dorms so we can change out of our uniforms for a trip into the city.

An hour or so later, we're on the bus headed into the city, and she's still giddily babbling about what might happen at the festival between her and Tadao. Realizing the Geneva Convention might consider this audio torture, I resign myself to listen. Accepting it gladly, I almost regret playing my hand to push them together, but the results matter more than a slight headache.

Getting off the bus, we both already know where we're going, and it's certainly not to the dress shop right away. Walking side-by-side, we talk about last year's festival mostly, recalling the evening we spent trying to catch goldfish and chasing Tadao down to recruit him for some throwing games. Having found him sitting against that blank wall -the one Rin is supposed to be painting a mural on this year- reading something from the Icewind Dale series, he had groaned in protest. Wanting to finish the chapter, he tried waving us away, but Amaya snatched the book out of his hand, causing him to chase her all the way to the gaming booths.

Later, Amaya huddled against him with her eyes closed during the fireworks. Her epilepsy had been less controlled back then and she was afraid of having the bright lights trigger an episode. He just sat there, trying to read his book in the dim light of the lanterns, and that was the first time I thought they'd be perfect together. A year later, I'm following Amaya into a little cafe for a quick bite to eat before we start the long, arduous process of shopping for her date.

Is it safe to call it that, I wonder?

Last year it was the three of us wandering the booths, playing games, laughing and carrying on about whatever nothings were going on at the time. Having just come back from a particularly awful trip home, I was in no state of mind for romantic pursuits, and the both of them were too oblivious to see the writing on the wall. Tomorrow, they would be wandering the festival together.

That's like a date, right?

Even though it was my idea, I almost feel like I'm being left out. Having been listening to the two of them ramble on about each other for the last year, acting like a confidant while keeping both their secrets, not being there to see its end feels like I'm missing the end of a movie. Watching them banter indirectly over the past year has been rather entertaining, and I think I'm going to miss being their sounding board.

Maybe they can be my sounding board instead?

Now that I think about it, I realize I had a reason to go shopping today; I also, maybe, sort of, kind of, have a date with the new guy –Hisao Nakai- the mystery-man from 3-3. The context is different, but he did agree to go to the festival at my behest, and there was a silent agreement in his eyes; an expectation that I be there to show him around at least.

It's not quite a date, but it's at least a meeting, and I want to make a good impression. Having already planned on getting a new yukata for the Yamaku Festival, I'm really just doing what I would have done anyway. Knowing there will be a new person whom I might want to impress adds an extra imperative, but I'm not doing anything out of the ordinary just for him.

Or am I?

After a light lunch -which consists mainly of tea, cake and Amaya's unending babble- we make our way to our favorite little dress shop. As we enter through the glass door, the ringing bell brings a familiar voice from somewhere near the back of the store, “come in, come in~!” His timbre is light and airy with seemingly boundless energy and a warm lilt. Mister Miyoto runs the Soliloquy Dress Shop, and he is decidedly abnormal.

Amaya is already brushing through the racks headed for our destination as Miyoto leaps up in front of me, beaming a happy smile. “Welcome back, Miss Kurai, Miss Yamamoto,” as he says our names, he turns and makes a slight bow toward each of us. “You're looking lovely as always, I lo-ve that streak in your hair, it's so playful and darling~!” he clasps his hands together and wears a dreamy expression as he compliments my hairstyle; I've never had the heart to tell him it's more function than fashion.

Amaya and I exchange a knowing glance. We're both pretty sure he's gay, but we've never brought it up – don't ask don't tell. A man in his thirties with a shock of bleached-white hair, brightly striped or floral shirts, suspenders, casual slacks, and a perpetual grin on his triangular face, Miyoto is almost happier to be working in a dress shop than should be legal. He ushers me forward and I follow past him toward Amaya, who's already looking through different yukata.

Miyoto tosses the measuring tape that perpetually hangs across his neck to the side and places a pencil behind his ear. Bringing his hand up to his chin and narrowing his eyes, but retaining that smile, he puts his questions to words, “yukata, then? Yamaku Festival, I gather?”

It's not really a big mystery, but his quick deduction is a little unnerving. Although, his next question nearly knocks Amaya on the floor; “Is your date taking as much care, I wonder, in preparing for the festival, Miss Yamamoto?”

Nearly dropping the red and black yukata she was looking over, she sputters to try and answer the obviously rhetorical question, “I- well I-”

Miyoto looks her up and down while she collects herself, his eyes bobbing up and down like a basketball. Looking slightly uncomfortable at seeing her reaction, his perpetual smile remains. Never having told anyone their secrets, but seeing how easily Miyoto picked up on Amaya's apparent excitement, and deduced the likely cause, leaves me wondering if I should have done this months ago.

Considering that, I wonder how many people other than myself already know Amaya and Tadao are potentially involved. If Miyoto read it on her face, not specifically about whom, of course, then I wonder how many other people connected the dots. Finally regaining control of herself, Amaya sets her eyes on me, and I remember I'm in the room.

Existence is a burden at times.

Miyoto turns to me as I speak, “we both need new yukata.” He nods and lets out a little sigh, giving Amaya another bow as a sort of apology. We've been coming to this dress shop almost since we started at Yamaku, and I wouldn't want him to think we were scared off by his attempted joke. “It's a new concept for Amaya," I say, getting a raised eyebrow in response. "Dating I mean,” I add sheepishly.

He places a hand over his heart and closes his eyes. “Ah, young love. An angel disguised as lust,” he slowly turns to Amaya as he speaks with dramatic fervor. After a few seconds he opens his eyes quickly and centers his gaze on her with raised eyebrows, his smile leaving for just a moment. “Use protection,” he says flatly, and the smile returns.

Stifling my laughter, I watch Amaya swallow hard and blush deeply, burying her face in the blue yukata she was perusing. the red of her cheeks is practically visible through the fabric. Still hiding, she gives a slight nod. At that, Miyoto clicks his heels together and takes a few strides toward her, his lilting sing-song tone brightening the mood immediately, “well, then. Let's make sure he never forgets tomorrow night~!”

Miyoto, for all his flamboyance, is a skilled stylist. After only an hour of trial and error, he helps each of us find a new yukata. When Amaya steps out of the dressing room, I greet her with a grin and she gives me a twirl for effect. The yukata she chose is mostly white with pink and magenta accents at the sleeves and hem. Over her shoulder there is a bold, black, bramble pattern complete with big, bright pink flowers snaking down and across her hip. Her skinny frame appears more full behind the billowing fabric – accented by the tightly-bound black obi across her waist.

She crosses her arms then lets her left arm drop down beside her as she sways back and forth, looking at me with an excited grin. “It's perfect, right?” she inquires rhetorically.

Miyoto steps in view and leans to the side, his analytical eyes scanning over Amaya like a painting. His tone is more serious than you'd expect in the situation, “I think some pink ribbons in your hair and it'll be perfect, don't you think, Miss Kurai?” He doesn't turn to look at me, still taking in Amaya's new look.

I lean against the wall and sigh contentedly, “I think Tadao will like it.”

Amaya straightens up at the mention of his name and glares at me. Miyoto lets out a little chuckle. “Oh, like it was a secret," he says flatly, almost deadpan, "you only came by with him once and I knew.” He waves his hand back and forth as he talks, as though it were incredibly old news.

Amaya visibly relaxes, looking tired. “Okay, so it probably isn't a big deal,” she comments, sounding despondent. Sitting on a nearby bench in a huff, she lets out a resigned sigh and adds,“he probably won't wanna date me anyway.”

Raising an eyebrow, and deciding my discretion came to an end when they agreed to the date, I balk, “no way. He's nuts about you, y'know.” My voice full of annoyance, I take a few steps forward and cross my arms. “He's been telling me about it for the past year,” I add, dropping all pretense, “while you were feeding me the same kind of information.”

She looks up, her face twisting into a scowl, “why didn't you say anything, then?”

Now I'm squirming. Miyoto takes that as a chance to pipe up, “she didn't want to lose the both of you.”

Nodding, I realizing he's right. Amaya gets off the bench and comes to wrap me in a hug. Sounding maudlin, she remarks, “don't think like that, Aiko. You're like the mother I never had.” Her tiny frame, wrapped in the new yukata, looks so small and childlike, gripping me tightly and sighing deeply.

Returning the hug, I try to keep the mood light. “You have a mother,” I state.

“My other mother, then. Or the sister I never had,” she says sounding more playful than depressed. Backing away from me, I notice a tear running down her cheek. Biting her lip, she looks away, embarrassed by her outpouring. “You'd never lose me, no matter what. You know that,” she says through a sniffle.

Amaya and I have gotten along for two years; and been best friends for most of that time. Digging me out of my depression, she befriended me without judgment while I was still a sullen, volatile bitch. Amaya was unrelenting in her cheerful attempts to make me smile when all I wanted to do was crawl in a corner and be forgotten.

Helping me to acclimate to the school -something she was also going through- Amaya got me to open up and forget the awful time I'd had in middle-school, and try to forget the dreadful events happening at home. Somehow, I never thanked her for that directly, but I think she knows without my having to say anything.

Perhaps that's why I seem so concerned about the new guy. Even while dealing with her own tribulations, Amaya saw fit to drag me along for whatever fun she had planned. Seeing Nakai wearing a sullen frown similar to the one I once wore, I feel like I should offer him the same kind of friendship Amaya showed me - perhaps more.

Recalling all that, I place a hand on her slim shoulder and offer the only reasonable answer, “of course.”

After standing in silence for a few moments, Miyoto's sing-song voice picks up the dreary mood, “well, let's see how Miss Kurai looks in her new yukata~!”

We both giggle at hearing the slight lisp in Miyoto's voice as I pick up my orange and black yukata, heading for the changing room. Closing the curtain, I think back to all the worry I'd felt about Amaya and Tadao, and I realize it was silly. Perhaps I really was more worried about myself than them, and I regret that, but I'm making amends.

Glancing in the mirror, it's the first time I've had a chance to look myself over in a few days. Rushing off without breakfast, helping with the festival, skipping meals, losing sleep and a plethora of other problems have been wearing me down a bit lately, and the paleness of my reflection is proof. As I disrobe, I notice my shoulders are sagging lower, and my eyes appear more sunken; likely the result of fatigue. The delicate curve of my hips and the flatness of my stomach have become more -curvy- of late.

Curvy. Healthy. Well-rounded. Evasive adjectives. Mom taught me well.

Silently, I make a note to get down to the gym for some exercise starting Monday. Perhaps a nice swim would be therapeutic. The yukata smells like cleaning chemicals -that new-clothes smell- as I wrap it around my shoulders and find the sleeves.

When I've got it wrapped right and finish with the bright orange obi, I lean toward the mirror to see how well the colors play against my narrow, full face. The orange floral pattern plays well against the colors of my eyes, and the rounded shapes echo the gentle waving of my dark brown hair.

When I step out, the smile on Miyoto is telling enough, but he speaks anyway, “oh you fill that out nicely, Miss Kurai.” He gives a cat-like growl, making a claw-like gesture with his hand, and turns to smile at Amaya.

Amaya frowns. “Yeah she fills out all her clothes like that,” she moans, looking down at her chest dejectedly.

Miyoto lets out a brief laugh that I can't tell is real or faked. “You both look lovely,” he grins at me and adds, “maybe a little tuck to save your friend some grief?”

I blush fiercely, realizing what he means. “No, I'm sure she'll be fine,” I lie. Amaya has been jealous of my chest for years, but there's no need for it to dampen the mood.

Finally, Amaya lifts her head and smiles, “I like how it mirrors the waves of your hair. It kinda makes,” she points at my chest, ignoring the pretense, “them... blend into the background.” She ends with a half-smile. Rolling my eyes, I share a laugh with Miyoto.

After changing back into our street clothes and quickly paying for the new yukata, we rush out of the store hearing Miyoto's cheery “goodbye, and good luck,” somewhere far behind us as we run to the bus station. Arriving just in time to hop on the bus, we can't help but giggle and talk about the upcoming event, regardless of the bemused stares from the other passengers.

When we arrive back at Yamaku, it's nearly six o'clock, so we head straight for the dorms and quickly hide our new yukata in our rooms before heading to the common room for dinner. Tomorrow is the Yamaku Festival, and I don't want to be sleeping on an empty stomach again. As I look around, I notice the other girls are having similar conversations as ours, and at least one of them is a familiar face.

“Naoko.” I say, signing at the same time, “staying here tonight? Are you excited about tomorrow?”

Naoko nods, holding up an overnight bag, then squeezes her lips with her finger and thumb, indicating she wants to discuss something without me relaying it to everyone. After I return an affirming nod, she starts signing, [I heard Amaya and Tadao are finally a thing,] she signs, knowing Amaya won't understand.

Shooting Amaya a glance I shrug she just shakes her head, looking over at the TV while I 'talk' with the deaf girl. [Yeah, it's preliminary,] I sign, making an overly-excited face to assuage Amaya's curious glances, [but they're spending tomorrow together.] Apparently, it wasn't as much of a secret as I thought, but I don't mention my musing.

Naoko grins excitedly, but keeps herself from jumping up and down, not wanting Amaya to figure out what we're discussing. Rolling her eyes she signs, [finally. Those two are like an old married couple, they might as well be together.] Shooting her a glance, Naoko grins widely, but Amaya's too engrossed in the TV to notice.

Looking pensive when I look back, Naoko takes a sharp breath and holds it as she asks, [sre you going with the new guy?] Her dark green eyes narrow and shift around uncomfortably, but she's still smiling.
And there it is.

With someone finally asking the question that had been hanging in the air since yesterday's incident, I clam up a bit for a second. However, actually being faced with the question, I find I have an easy answer, [probably. I kinda convinced him to go, so I should probably show him around – make sure he has a good time.]

Naoko looks like she wants to ask more, but the logic in my response is hard to deny. I may have overreacted to his indifference about the festival, but it doesn't have to be a big deal. If I were to just find him around the grounds and walk around showing him the sights for a while, it wouldn't be a sordid escapade. I'd just be helping a new student have some fun at a strange new school.

That's my cover-story, anyway.

There's no need to tell Naoko about the part of me desiring more than to be a tour guide. If anything, the lost-puppy look in his eyes makes me want to help him out, even if it remains completely platonic. Still, there's a part of my mind, and maybe my heart, hoping he's interested in more than the tour.

If something comes of it, then fine. He seems like a nice, stable guy when he isn't looking so sullen. After seeing him work through those reports so easily, he seems intelligent and studious, he has a nice smile and, if I can get over myself, might even look past my terrible eating habits, emotional outbursts and sardonic humor.

A girl can dream, can't she?

After finishing our meal, and Amaya finishes watching CSI, we head back up to our rooms. Whatever happens tomorrow, I'm going to have a good time. Of course, that won't start until after I cover both my shift and Tadao's. Part of me wonders if I could pawn both shifts off to other 3-1 students, but that might be considered an abuse of power. Damn my decency and integrity. Groaning, I hit the pillow feeling tired enough to sleep through both shifts.

I hope those two remember me at their wedding.
__________________________________________
Chapter 4: http://pastebin.com/Yaw0ysHy