Tomorrow's Doom A.2/C.10 - Making Waves

Chapter 9: http://pastebin.com/mAxc6HUn
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Chapter 10 – Making Waves

I groan and roll over to slap my alarm clock, canceling the discordant melody before it can burrow deeper into my brain. It's six o'clock, and I realize I have a routine to follow. Whatever other thoughts might be on my mind, I have a responsibility -a commitment- to attend to, and I don't plan to start skipping out on the morning swims just because I'm feeling confused.

I quickly don my swimsuit and track pants, then toss on my bathrobe, grab my towel -with my cellphone wrapped inside- and head out the door. The sunlight breaking in through the windows as I glide through the common room tickles my skin, and the warm air outside is refreshingly fragrant. As I walk, I whistle absently, though I'm not sure what's gotten me into such a mood. Yesterday's events seemed to end on a low note, so my perky steps are somewhat unexpected.

Maybe I had a good dream that I inconveniently forgot?

Upon reaching the breezeway I glance at my watch; it reads, “6:24 am,” and I realize I'm a bit early. That's really nothing new, though. I sit down on the bench and fish my cellphone out, thinking about calling Hisao to make sure he's going to be on time. As I flip it open, I realize there's a presence nearby.

I recognize the looming shadow and don't bother looking to cheerily greet her, “morning, Joyce.” The chipper lilt in my voice is unexpected, but Joyce doesn't find it strange. I've greeted her similarly on most mornings as she comes to unlock the pool building.

“Well g'mornin' sunshine, you look like the cat who caught the canary,” her comment strikes me as odd. She usually just walks right by while I absently wait for Hisao, so something must be different for her to notice.

I glance up at her for a brief second to see her sidelong look, but turn back down and shrug. “I do?” I ask, not sure what she means. I'm intrigued, but I keep my gaze down toward my cellphone, flipping through my saved numbers list. If she stopped at all, she probably plans to point out the issue, so I just calmly wait for her to decide to vocalize her curiosity.

I hear the door unlock and her keys rattling as she hangs them back on her belt. A moment later, she's standing over me again asking, “something good happen? You look happier than you have since that boy first started swimming with you.” Now I'm really intrigued. I look up and see her grinning face, edged with questioning eyes, “did he finally ask you out?”

She doesn't mince words.

My expression darkens and her smile melts away. I'm not sure why I was in such a happy mood, but the mention of Hisao and I possibly dating immediately turns my smile to a frown. After a moment watching me, she motions toward the bench, and I nod. She sits down next to me, leaning back with a contemplative expression.

“You pretty much always look happy out here in the morning, but you had this beaming smile on when I walked by – thought he finally came to his senses,” she explains while I look back at my phone. After a fer moments of consideration, I shake my head, but I don't look away from the little screen.

“You want him to, though, right?” she asks, a strangely motherly tone in her voice.

She said I used to look sad when I went swimming before...

Maybe I've been walking out here every morning with that perky lightness every day and only noticed it now. I never liked having anyone around when I went swimming, so I knew it wasn't just elation at having a swimming partner. I didn't even want Amaya to swim with me, and she's my best friend. I have felt at ease ever since Hisao joined me, and I think I understand now that it's because he was that swimming partner.

I also never stopped to consider why he kept coming back every day. Obviously he needs to keep in shape for his heart, but he could have continued running with Emi, or found some other activity. He leaped at the chance to join me for my scheduled, daily swims – even though I never actually had a schedule.

It was him who suggested the whole plan, even though I technically mentioned it first. My half-interested attempt to make it sound better than running couldn't have been the only reason. The specifics about when, how often and what days were all his idea; I just dutifully nodded my consent. On our first day, he even fought with Kenji to secure a towel, arriving late and apologetic.

Even after already passing day-two with Emi's blistering run schedule, Hisao canceled on her so he could spend time with my stupid self. I was too distracted by how he found me to understand, but he was putting every effort into being at the pool that morning – live or die.

How the hell did I not realize that immediately?

Remembering I was in the middle of a conversation with Joyce, I look over at her and stuff my phone back between the folds of my towel. Recalling her query, I nod dumbly and try to smile. She breathes out a sigh and leans forward, looking at me sidelong and assuming a bright smile, “ask him, then.”

It can't be that simple, can it?

I lean forward and think. Whatever good intentions Hisao had for joining me to go swimming every day, I'm not sure if it still carries weight. I haven't made any moves at furthering our friendship, and it's entirely possible he decided against it due to a lack of positive signals. “It's not that simple,” I start to explain, but she shushes me, and I look at her, perplexed.

“Yes, it is,” she says, “lemme tell you a story.”

Oh, more lectures. Class hasn't even started yet...

As much as I want to get up and walk away at the thought of someone trying to offer relationship advice -especially a middle-aged divorcee- the caring look on her face, and the peaceful position she assumes, make me reconsider. I haven't been able to come up with anything myself, so maybe I can glean some kind of direction from whatever story she has to tell. I sit up and nod at her, giving the go to start her lecture.

She catches my signal and immediately starts talking, “I was a little older than you when I met Frank.” She absently rubs her ring finger as she continues, “he and I were on the track team, and he was a brilliant linguist besides. He used to teach me all sorts of stuff about languages – he taught me Japanese.” She turns and winks at me as she says that. I blink absently and nod.

Well, that doesn't sound so bad.

She sighs and closes her eyes, wincing a little as she continues her retelling, “we got married young, and stupid – when neither of us knew what we were getting into. We fought, we separated, and we eventually made it legal.” I furrow my brow and offer a questioning expression.

This isn't helping, Joyce.

“My ex,” She clarifies. I'm not sure how to react, I already knew she was divorced. She's never said anything about her former husband, except that she had one, and I wonder where this story could be headed. This story doesn't seem to have the happy ending I was hoping for, but I nod and offer a comforting smile.

Peering down at her feet for a second, she sighs, but then looks back at me and grins. “But, I don't regret it one bit,” she pauses to let her words resonate.

Huh?

“I asked him to the prom, and we were inseparable for years after. He was good to me, and we had a great time together until life kinda stepped in and stuck a fork in us,” she makes a stabbing motion at her leg, “and we were done.” Her expression looks pained for a second, but it quickly melts into a serene smile. “I would have regretted not asking him way more than our separation; I never would have moved here if not for him. I wouldn't be sitting here telling you this story, then, either.”

That quantum thing keeps coming back to mind – I should bring it up to Mutou someday.

I'm a little bewildered, and my face says it plainly. She nudges my shoulder. “What I'm saying is, you should just go for it – you're not getting any younger. Maybe prettier,” she says with a chuckle, “but we need to seize what time we have, y'know?”

I look up and smile at her, letting the words sink in for a second. She's trying to tell me not to worry so much about the consequences, and it makes a certain kind of sense. Whatever happened between her and Frank, she seems to have come through it better off than she started. Remembering her last comment, I smirk and reply, “I'm not that pretty.”

She laughs and gets up, turning to offer a friendly smile. “Yeah you are, don't gimme that!” She lets out a few stifled guffaws but quickly stops and narrows her eyes. “Think about it, okay? Regrets are like scars, you can end up covered with 'em if you're not careful,” she says sagely.

A strangely poignant phrase, if a little disturbing.

I watch her nodding for a moment, trying to figure out how she can look so happy after telling such a gloomy story, but, somehow, I think that's the strength of her tale. She put herself out there and it worked out for a while until it stopped. Even if it was only for a short while, it made her happy and that's the memory she keeps.

I have that possible future still in front of me, and it's about time I stopped worrying about the answer to my question and consider the implication of not asking. If I'm going to have a short life, anyway, I certainly don't want to have regrets holding me back. I don't want to regret watching Hisao get further and further away from me until someone else reeled him in – he's my fish to catch.

I nod at her and smile, grateful for the advice. “Thanks,” I say, “I'll think about it.”

“Good. Make sure you turn thinking into doing before one of these other harlots throws themselves at his feet – he's a keeper, y'know,” she remarks, “I can tell.” She turns and starts walking into the building then, and I've suddenly got the fire of resolve burning in my eyes.

Left to consider what she was trying to tell me for a few minutes, I think I understand what she meant. Even if nothing comes of it, if I never say anything to Hisao -tell him how I feel- I'll regret it forever. As I notice him walking up to the building, I decide I can't let that happen.

Looking over his grinning countenance, I don't think just straight-up asking him will be enough, though. I want to make it an event, and that requires more than one witness. I suddenly think I want the whole school to know I've asked before he even answers, but the way to do that eludes me for now. Swimming should help me clear my head and come up with something appropriate. I wave Hisao along and head into the pool building with a purposeful smirk.

Watching Hisao as we stretch at the poolside, I try to think of how to make asking him a simple question into an event he'll never forget. When he stands and drops his track pants off, revealing the close-fit swim trunks, I gasp a little. I bury my head down to distract myself, trying to think of anything else. Literally anything else – I settle on the tiled floor.

Better than slipping into dirty-world.

After a few seconds I hear the solid splash as he drops into the water, and I look up again with renewed resolve. As I stand, I see him bobbing up and down grinning contentedly as he dunks his head under the waves repeatedly, and my resolve wavers. Watching him do anything right about now is preventing me from thinking clearly, and he's keeping his eyes open, watching me intently – like he knows my thoughts.

Beware the Swooner, stalking the night. Hunting in darkness, his gaze burning bright.

I avert my eyes and head for the ladder, choosing to step lightly into the pool. When I spin around to catch his gaze, there's a strange look to them – like hunger. It's a little strange and out of character for him, but it gives me an idea. It's a silly idea, really, but the best ideas often start out sounding silly – the atomic bomb, for instance.

Even Einstein probably scoffed at that idea.

I swim over and offer a raised eyebrow. “You're creeping me out,” I say.

“Sorry, I was trying to think of a good way to sign your name,” he says, his eyes turning up as he grins. “I think I've come up with a good one.”

I'm intrigued, but it's a little difficult signing in the water. “Well,” I start saying, “we have eight laps to do before you can tell me.” I had meant to bring that up a bit later, but I want him to be appropriately incapacitated when we're parting ways later so he doesn't notice my devious looks.

“Eight?” he inquires. His face scrunches into a bewildered expression. “What happened to seven?” he asks plainly.

“You can't expect to stay at the kid-level forever,” I say, grinning widely, “or are you just too weak~?” I ask with an accusatory lilt, attacking his pride.

He folds his arms under the waves and raises an eyebrow. “Fine,” he huffs, “but only 'cause it's you asking.”

I smile at the reference. Having taken him under my wing to assist with his physical therapy has the benefit of allowing me to give him orders sometimes; which he has been keen to follow. I swim to the edge and wait for him to join me against the wall. “Eight laps, then you can tell me my new sign-name,” I say as he nods approval.

“You're gonna like it,” he states, and I believe him.

“Go!” I yell and we both kick off the wall. We don't actually race, not in the traditional sense, but the bit of competition makes him push harder; a trick Nurse explained.

Breathe, stroke. Breathe, stroke. Breathe, stroke.

We reach and kick off the opposite wall at the same time, and I watch his motions as I let muscle memory push me across the pool, keeping us in a dead heat. I find myself proud to see his breath control has improved greatly; he used to choke a lot when we first started, and I used to worry he might be having a more severe problem.

Breathe, stroke. Breathe, stroke. Breathe, stroke.

Off the other wall, lap two starts and we're still neck-and-neck, though it's really because I'm holding back. Hisao has never questioned my reluctance to just swim ahead of him. I prefer to keep up with him and see how he's doing; like a good teacher. Emi can do that even while running at full speed with a simple look, but in the water I need to stay nearby.

Breathe, stroke. Breathe, stroke. Breathe, stroke.

Two more laps go by, and I smile as Hisao continues batting at the waves with practiced control. Seeing him doing so well, I decide to speed myself up and I'm glad to see him match my pace.

Breathe, stroke. Breathe, stroke. Breathe, stroke.

Lap six passes by, and this is usually when I start slowing us down, but Hisao starts racing ahead. I giddily follow him, remaining just behind as we reach the opposite wall and kick off, lining myself up with him and matching his new pace.

Breathe, stroke. Breathe, stroke. Breathe, stroke.

Half way through lap seven, I look over at Hisao and he's grinning, but his breathing has started to become more sporadic. I slow myself a little and he notices my sudden drop backward. He slows to compensate, and I grin happily.

Breathe, stroke. Breathe, stroke. Breathe, stroke.

The last lap -our new lap- begins with a steady kick off the wall, and I sidle right up beside Hisao, looking at him and smiling. He looks back and nearly chokes on a gulp of chlorinated water, but he steadies himself and continues stroking.

Breathe, stroke. Breathe, stroke. Breathe, stroke.

The final kick-off goes by smoothly, and we break into a race toward the last wall. Hisao falls behind quickly, but I can still hear him steadily swimming behind me. As I spin and grab the wall, I watch his last few struggling strokes and smile proudly when he plants a hand on the wall next to mine.

He pants and wheezes a bit, but he's holding his hand up; he's in control. I watch and wait for his breathing to calm before I say encouragingly, “eight laps wasn't so bad, right?” While I feel like I could probably go for several more, myself, this is still mostly for his benefit. I don't want him overexerting himself on my account, or out of some prideful, masculine need to compete – and Nurse gave me a nasty glare when I even suggested the idea.

That purple-haired man is constantly foiling my torture plans.

Hisao grins at me, gritting his teeth. He can't speak between gasps for air, but he nods contentedly. I nudge his shoulder with my other fist and then swim over toward the ladder, letting him watch as I climb out of the pool. I always notice when he's looking at me, and I never mind the interest from him.

Take it all in, Swooner.

He follows me out a few moments later, and drops onto the floor rather unceremoniously, flattening his arms and lying there, breathing heavily. “You're trying... to drown me...” he finally breathes out between gasps.

I giggle as I walk over and grab my robe and towel, tossing his towel over to him in the process. It lands on his face, and he just leaves it there while I start drying. Eventually he sits up and starts toweling his hair; he usually lets the rest drip dry, I've noticed.

Vested in argyle, the Swooner does walk. Women thus fall aghast, outlined in chalk.

When he's a few feet away, he stops and grins, holding up his hands like he's ready to sign something. “You ready for it?” he asks.

I nod happily, wondering how long he's been waiting to tell me what secret sign he wants to use for me.

He quickly drapes the towel over his shoulder and signs simply, [Mermaid.] He gets that strange hungry look from before we started laps and leans back, “I came up with that two weeks ago, and I've been dying to tell you.”

I squeal with glee and clap my hands together, quickly signing my response, [it's perfect!] I end with a cheerful nod. I smile happily and bounce excitedly, I haven't heard anyone call me that since-

My dad...

I suddenly frown, but I don't want to spoil the moment; quickly forcing the happy smile back. He looks confused for a second, like he saw my sudden frown. Furthering the disarmament, I cheerily point out, “Tadao and I agreed on Tongue-sticker almost immediately. Though it was preceded by Shin-kicker.”

“I guess I'm,” he starts but continues the thought by signing, [Swooner.]

“Yep,” I reply. “I usually refer to Tadao as Dhampiel, but he hates it.”

As we're having this frivolous little discussion, my mind is going back over the idea I had before our swim. The hungry idea. Lunch in the cafeteria. That's where this starts; that's our ground zero. I quickly decide to put the plan into action, and the first step is a much easier question. “Hey, you start working with Shizune later today, right?” I ask, leading the conversation.

“Yeah,” he answers, looking less than thrilled with the idea.

Audience is important, so I start by saying, “okay, make up an excuse and bring them to lunch, I have some Tanabata business to go over and I don't want to miss my chance before it gets too late.”

“Alright,” he says. “Bring Tongue-sticker and Dhampiel with you, I think I need a hand with some English homework.”

I nod in agreement and mention, “I was probably gonna bring them along anyway.”

“Okay, I gotta go see Nurse and get ready for class, so we'll talk later,” he says as he pulls his track pants on and rolls the t-shirt over his head, covering up his slowly-fading scar. I usually don't notice it anymore, but I look while he has the shirt over his head and notice it's beginning to change color to a more brownish hue. It probably won't fully fade, ever, but it's encouraging to see it starting to become less apparent.

I watch him leave, grinning at my deviousness. Joyce notices my exuberant expression and gives me a thumbs up, to which I reply with a sturdy bow. She said to seize the day, and I was about to do just that. One way or another, lunch break is going to be interesting.

The Swooner cares not, whether they rise. Forever he searches, for more innocent sighs.

Morning classes tick away by the sound of the clock, slowly finding its way around the hours and through the routine classroom digressions. Amaya and Tadao are giddily asking questions about their setup from yesterday, but I choose to be evasive. Being in the seat in front of them affords me an easy way to hide my face in case it tries to betray my purpose.

Their plan had worked, I knew, and I was glad for it, but, until the full scope of the results are enacted, I didn't want to say anything. They can remain blissfully ignorant for now, but I certainly want them along for my plan to work – I just don't want them to be in on it, so their reactions are genuine.

They're pretty awful actors, I learned yesterday.

Finally, the lunch bell rings and the first part of my plan goes into action. I stand, casually, and invite both Amaya and Tadao to lunch with me, saying I want to get out of the stuffy classroom for a short while. They happily agree, and I've now got my support audience following behind me down to clique-central.

Phase one; gather the players.

Ahead of us in the bustling crowd, I see Hisao emerge from class 3-3 with Shizune and Misha close-by, and I breathe a sigh of relief; everything is going according to plan. I distract Amaya with some questions about English so she doesn't notice who is walking ahead of us, and Tadao naturally offers his words of wisdom. I feel bad about using their interests against them in this way, but I don't want them to see any of this coming until we actually reach the cafeteria.

I also feel bad about having Amaya sit through lunch -or part of it, at least- with Shizune. They never really got along -largely in part because they disagree on study philosophies- but I think Amaya will forgive the transgression as soon as I start asking Hisao to Tanabata.

Now I just need to not chicken out.

When we reach the cafeteria, I nearly falter. I hesitate just outside the door and have to fake a little dizzy spell to assuage suspicion. When we walk into the cafeteria, Amaya immediately notices Hisao sitting at the table and comments, “oh, I see... the Swooner's mere presence is making you feel faint.”

I smirk at her, but I don't mention her deduction is partially correct. I don't even have to ask her to follow me over and sit with Hisao; she bounds ahead of me with Tadao in tow, plopping her lunch down and grinning widely. Tadao is more subdued in his approach, as always, and the casual smile is directed at Hisao more than myself. My earlier elusiveness seems to have already been forgiven.

I approach slowly, calmly, and set my lunch down, sitting opposite Hisao, with Tadao on my right and Amaya across from him. Now we wait. This is all for naught without the last two people sitting down to join us, and I try not to make a show of glancing toward where I see Shizune and Misha blissfully signing back and forth as the lunch line slowly creeps forward.

My eyes are also avoiding contact with Hisao's, but that seems even more difficult to resist. Those thoughtful brown orbs keep glancing at me, being barely distracted by Amaya and Tadao's tittering. In my head, I know I need to act coy and elusive, but the urge to meet his gaze and get lost in his eyes is almost too tempting. If I get too worked up or too distracted, I might forget to ask the question I've been formulating and rehearsing in my head since this-morning.

There is also the matter of Hisao's attire. As the summer temperatures have risen, he has stopped wearing sweater-vests under his uniform jacket, so he is only wearing the dress-shirt and tie; the jacket is on the back of his chair. It's strange to see him without the argyle accompaniment, but even stranger is that I find myself staring at his bare arms.

His sleeves are rolled up exposing his tightly bound forearms, and I'm mesmerized by the solid lines indicating his strong musculature. His narrow hands draw my attention as well. Resting over each-other on the table, his long fingers are strong and dexterous. I remember feeling safe having those hands supporting me when I fell over at the festival, and when he offered a comforting hand on my shoulder after we almost kissed.

Stop thinking about it so much!

I snap myself out of the reverie just in time to see Shizune and Misha approaching the table. Shizune shoots me a look of disdain that quickly fades into a quiet smile. She walks around and sits next to Hisao -which makes me cringe a little, but I let it pass- while Misha sits down to my left. All six of us are now in place, and phase two of my plan goes into effect.

Phase two; lulling the gathering.

To maintain the pretense of my presence, I made sure to have an issue to bring up with Shizune; so, as I ignore Amaya's groaning look, I turn and start signing, [I wanted to inform you that class 3-3 has decided to recreate the fish-bowl booth for Tanabata.] I still can't talk at the same time, but Misha is kind enough to relay my signing for everyone else to hear. Misha's booming voice is happily less jarring for me – her sitting to my left was a happy accident.

One of the advantages of being deaf in one ear, I suppose.

Shizune smiles and nods, and I breathe a sigh of relief. She starts signing back, [that will make preparations easier; and reduce the amount of building we have to do; so thank you.] She grins as she signs that, but then her expression sours as she asks, [you could have come by the Student Council room to inform us of this. Why here?]

I stare back at her, realizing there's a hole in my plan, and I freeze. I don't even have a chance to try and bump Misha as she relays the whole question to everyone in earshot. I feel pale and my eyes widen, but I can't let this get to me. I have a reason for bringing everyone down here, and it has nothing to do with booth preparations.

Her bobcat grin makes its return as she begins to notice the full scope of the situation. Her eyes dart around the table, taking in the positioning of the players and her face turns up in a devious grin, but she remains silent – so to speak. At first I'm confused by her reaction, but then I see her tapping the table and glancing sidelong at Hisao.

It ought to be obvious to anyone with a grasp on the situation, really. Hisao and I sit flanked by friends, and both of us have dumb expressions on our faces. We have all the support in the world around us at this moment, and I think Shizune is eager to play her apparent role. I was never sure what her end-game was, but I never suspected something like this.

How could she know?

I straighten myself and toss a hair out of my face to wash the pallid expression away, then settle my gaze upon Hisao's big, brown irises and lean forward. A hush falls over the table, and five faces look directly at me. Amaya's grin is so wide her dimples might cave in, and I can see Tadao nodding approval just on the edge of my periphery. I can hear Misha squealing as even she realizes what's about to happen, while Shizune's devious grin melts into a delightful, impatient smirk. Hisao grins and fidgets in his seat, and the hint of a blush creeps onto his cheeks.

Time for phase three; operation inquiry.

Steeling my nerves and swallowing hard, I don't fight the blush as I hold my hand toward Hisao and ask, loud enough for people at the next table to hear, “Hisao, would you be my date for Tanabata?”

I'm not sure how many people heard the question, but the other four faces at the table immediately turn their grinning gazes at Hisao – and a hush slowly falls across the cafeteria. Even students who hadn't heard me ask fall silent as the news spreads in whispers across the room. Perhaps a hundred pairs of eyes fall upon Hisao as he stammers and blushes hard, his hand reflexively coming to his sternum.

Misha gasps and holds her breath while Shizune clasps her hands together delightedly – I doubt she needed to see it signed to understand the question. Amaya's dreamy eyes glance back and forth between Hisao and myself, and her hair bobs playfully with each turn. Tadao is speechless as always, but he's leaning forward and peacefully nodding at Hisao – offering his approval.

For my part, I smile widely and nod at him confidently as I await his answer. A million thoughts bubble up through my mind, but I try hard not to be overwhelmed. I feel lighter for finally having asked the question, but the weight of his impending answer still manages to fall back and push down on my shoulders.

Such simple words, but their meaning carries the weight of a month's worth of questions and longings. Mister Miyoto's words return to mind as I wait. “Young love,” he had said, “an angel disguised as lust.” The meaning had eluded me until this instant, staring at Hisao, awaiting his answer – I'm anxious, distraught, and filled with hopeful desire, but, mostly, I'm terrified.

What if he says no?

The air seems to be sucked out of the room as the cafeteria freezes in suspense. Somewhere I hear a piece of silverware clatter to the ground, but nobody moves to extradite it from the floor. Hisao's eyes dart around and his expression narrows as he formulates an answer he must know everyone in the room seems to be waiting for. He smirks at me and heaves a sigh, steadying himself with a blink and drawing his hand away from his chest to meet with mine.

As he wraps my hand in his strong fingers, I feel the room fall away and all that remains in the cafeteria are the two of us; our eyes locked, our hands entwined, and our thoughts displayed plainly on our grinning faces. He leans forward and steadies his voice as he finally answers, “yes. It would be my pleasure, Aiko.”

A giant, toothy grin spreads across both our faces, and the room slowly comes back into reality. All around us there are students with happy expressions nodding calmly. It's not the reaction I expected; it's almost mature. I practically yelled the question so the whole room would know what was going on, intentionally. I wanted anyone in earshot to see this conversation, and I was prepared for the bawdy remarks or childish whooping, but the silence is probably better. It's serene, really. The four people around us, though, that's a different story.

Shizune and Misha immediately go into a fast-paced sign conversation that I'm to distracted to follow. Amaya exchanges knowing nods with Tadao, who even wraps an arm over my shoulder in a slight hug. As loud as I'd made this seem, it was still desperately difficult for me to actually ask, and his support is appreciated. After a few moments, Shizune is tapping the table again, and I finally snap my eyes away from Hisao's to see what she's signing, [finally!] she beams a confident smile. [I was starting to think I'd actually have to ask him out for you to step up.]

Apparently I was her ball of yarn.

Misha, kindly, doesn't translate the conclusion of our little war, and Hisao is still too distracted to see Shizune signing. He's still looking at me, and I realize our hands are still together.

How did I not notice that?

I retract my hand awkwardly, but smile apologetically. I had intentionally sat across from him so there would be a table preventing us from leaping at each-other, but he doesn't need to know that.

Tadao finally speaks up. “'Until hence the Swooner, off his guard is caught. Stricken dumb by Aiko, propositioning the sot,” he holds his hand up as he speaks and Amaya giggles – a line added to his earlier poem.

Beware the Swooner, stalking the night.
Hunting in darkness, his gaze burning bright.
Vested in argyle, the Swooner does walk.
Women thus fall aghast, outlined in chalk.
The Swooner cares not, whether they rise.
Forever he searches, for more innocent sighs.
Until hence the Swooner, off his guard is caught.
Stricken dumb by Aiko, propositioning the sot.

Shizune and Misha stare blankly, not understanding, but Hisao starts to chuckle lightly. I offer Shizune a shrug that says, “I'll explain later,” and she nods, leaning back and folding her arms. She has a contented expression on her face that I imagine I had when I saw Amaya and Tadao at the festival. She's been pushing me toward Hisao by creating a feigned competition for the past month, and I didn't catch on until just before asking Hisao the question.

Okay, I had suspicions...

I wonder if Misha knew, too, but considering the gasp she made as I asked, I think it's safe to say she had some idea. I feel a little bit used, but I'm still happy. Apparently they saw something between us that I refused to see, and I think they probably wanted it to be over at the festival.

That makes me want to apologize for my behavior over the past month; I was nasty to Shizune at times, when she was just trying to be helpful. She could have been more direct about it and not turned it into a cold war, but that's just how she operates. Once she created the war, she couldn't just abandon the idea without betraying the intent.

The rest of the lunch period ticks away lightly. Amaya and I make plans to go shopping Saturday, and Tadao even suggests dragging Hisao out to the city to find something more appropriate for the event. Shizune and Misha mention their plans to attend the festival, and I make a mental note to catch Shizune alone so I can apologize and thank her for the effort she put into pushing me into asking Hisao out on our first real date.

Back in class, I have to endure more tittering nonsense from the lovebirds behind me, but it's mostly about the possibility of double-dates rather than discussing their escapades so it's a little more tolerable. The entire class knows what happened at lunch, and I get a number of nods and smiles from my classmates – who all apparently seemed to know more about what's been going on than I did.

I consider asking Amaya, but I really doubt it could all fall on her. I don't think Hisao and I have done the best job of hiding our expressions, and I imagine a lot of people guessed at our relationship the same way they suspected Amaya and Tadao.

Upon arriving back at the dorm, I fall down onto my bed and try to think back over all the little tribulations from the past month. It's all a blur, really. I wonder if things could have been different if some things had been said sooner, but such is the nature of regret. I don't want to regret anything. Today I took fate by the horns and wrestled it to the ground, carving out a new destiny from the ashes of a stupid mistake.

Tomorrow should be a good day.
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Chapter 11: http://pastebin.com/AmxBx4Qq