First Brush - 4

The next day, Sayuri arrives at school with almost an hour to spare before first period, which she’s already admitted was a bad idea. Two early mornings in a row have her feeling like a zombie, face pale like chalk, eyes black and drooping into her mouth. With how self-conscious Asami seemed the other day, Sayuri thought it’d be nice if they could meet up a little bit before classes, hash things out in private. Of course, that would’ve required Asami to know about her intentions, which couldn’t possibly be the case.

Unless cat girls are mind readers, of course. Sayuri doesn’t know what worries her more: that Asami could be a telepath, or that she’s so exhausted she’s actually considering the possibility. Maybe she should get some rest.

She sets her bag down, yawns, spills over her desk, then yawns again. The wood is cold, hard and noxiously lemon-scented, the worst pillow she could ever ask for, but it’ll have to do. Burrowing her head into the crook of her elbow, she lets the songbirds chirping outside lull her addled mind to tranquillity. Concerns bubble up to the top of her mind, but she waves them off one by one.

What if she wakes up stiff? It’s fine, her neck couldn’t possibly hurt more. What if she oversleeps? She’s got three alarms that have yet to ring. What if she wets herself? If it hasn’t happened in twelve years, it most likely won’t happen again. What if Asami actually shows up only to find her snoring like a boar?

Sayuri sits up straight. Maybe she shouldn’t chance it, after all.

And as if on cue to vindicate her insanity, a distant patter thrums down the hallway. It’s a sound so soft that, at first, she struggles to make it out even against the quiet of the morning. But as it approaches, it becomes the unmistakable tap of footsteps against the linoleum floor. Slow, poised and impossibly delicate, they’re feline grace through and through. When they stop right outside, her heart skips a beat, lips squeezed tight to hold back a smile.

Then the door slams open and she all but falls shrieking out her seat. A girl makes to step inside, but she stops short the moment she notices Sayuri’s blanched face. “Oh, huh. Sorry about that. Wasn’t expecting anyone to be in.”

Sayuri wheezes for breath. “Is this… how you usually… enter a room?”

“Yeah. It adds gravitas.”

“Huh?”

“It’s like in the movies. When someone barges in, you know something’s about to go down.”

“But you didn’t know I was in here.”

“I don’t see how that makes any difference. It’s not like I’m doing it for anyone else’s sake.”

“I see…” She doesn’t actually see, but the girl doesn’t seem to mind. She’s probably used to spelling out her unique thought process, given how calm and matter-of-fact she lays it all out. It’s that very composure that puts Sayuri slightly more at ease around her. It’s the only thing that fits her otherwise flawless appearance.

Taking the seat next to Sayuri, she looks like a renaissance painting: pale skin, flowing golden hair, and features as dainty as a flower in bloom. In one elegant motion, she slides up her sleeve, checks the time on her slim, silver watch, then tucks a lock behind her ear. When she sighs, it’s like a loosely-floating breeze. To think a girl like this could outquirk her – Sayuri can’t help a frisson of apprehension. Something doesn’t feel right.

“Can I help you?” she asks, trying her hardest not to let her discomfort show.

“Maybe. You know the girl who smacked Takuya the other day?”

Goosebumps prick at Sayuri’s skin. Her throat dries up, and when she clears it, she can’t help a whimper along with the cough. “W-we’re acquainted. Why?”

“I just wanna have a word with her, that’s all. Do you have any idea when she might be coming in?”

Sayuri chews on her cheek. Try as she might, she can’t read anything into the girl’s tone, and that’s not a good sign. With how rotten her luck is, she’s Takuya’s girlfriend, out to defend his wounded honour in the privacy of the crack of dawn. Or maybe she’s not; she can’t know for sure either way.

A part of Sayuri wants to feign ignorance, let the girl figure it out on her own, but that’s not going to do her any favours. If she’s bound to get chastised, running away now will only make things worse. Cowardice will only give the girl another weapon to deploy in front of an audience hungry for a dressing down. She’s never going to live through that unscathed; might as well bite the bullet now.

“Yeah, she’s here now.”

The girl doesn’t need more than a moment to parse that. Her brow knots in an ambiguous expression – part disbelief, part annoyance, part something Sayuri can’t identify. She gets up, closing the gap between them with two measured strides, then whispers out a scoff.

Then another, then two more, until they chain together in a sweet snicker. “No way, you’re serious? I was expecting some olympic wrestler or bleach blonde delinquent, but a mousy girl like you? Gosh, this is grand!”

“… You’re not mad?”

“Mad? I’ve been waiting years for someone to finally put that clown in his place! But alas, no one had the guts to do it… until you.”

“I wouldn’t call it guts.”

“I would. And I like to think my opinion matters quite a bit.” The girl stretches out a hand. “Allow me to introduce myself: Morikawa Mitsuki. But you can call me your new best friend.”

“Best friend?”

“Yes, ma’am! Every enemy of Takuya-ki is a friend of mine. But you get bonus points for getting him to blow up our group chat all night long.”

“Enemy… bonus points… group chat…”

“Are you just gonna repeat everything I say now?”

It’s not like she can help it. From the moment Mitsuki came into the room and up until now, Sayuri hasn’t been able to hear her thoughts with the blood pounding in her ears. Another bombshell reveal and she’ll most definitely collapse from a heart attack.

Mitsuki grins, wide, bright and genuine. “You’re cute. I didn’t catch your name?”

“H-Hayakawa Sayuri.”

“Fast river?”

“Mhm.”

“Hm, hm, hm. I like it. It suits you. All you need now is someone with the force of a great typhoon. And I –” Mitsuki halts mid-sentence. She turns towards the front of the classroom and remains still for a long couple of seconds, peering through the wall at something far beyond comprehension. Then, just as suddenly as she froze, she thaws out, gaze narrowed with satisfaction. “I should probably get going.”

“What? Wh –“ Sayuri starts, but she doesn’t get to finish asking her question. Without warning, Mitsuki leans in and wraps her in a tight embrace, stealing her breath.

“Don’t worry about it.” Her murmurs hit the back of Sayuri’s neck, the hairs rising on end. When Mitsuki lets go, her mind blanks; when she comes to, she’s all alone once more.

There are so many things she’s unclear about still – who is Mitsuki, why does her personality feel like it’s selected by a roulette wheel, how come she had to leave out of the blue? – but now that she’s finally settled down, she doesn’t have the energy to make sense out of anything.

Again, she sets her head on her arm and again, she shuts her eyes. If nothing else, Mitsuki seems to have had a resetting effect on her mind. There are no thoughts barrelling down the avenues of her conscience anymore. All that’s left is peace, quiet and a simmering desire to sleep, which she’s more than happy to heed.

But just as she starts drifting away, the door slams open once more.

“What the – what now?” Sayuri groans, though her protests die in her throat as soon as she realises who’s walking in now.

“Good morning to you too, I guess.”

Asami. She sounds displeased, but the smirk teasing her lips tells a different story.

“… Morning. What brings you here so early?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Sayuri opens her mouth, only to bite her tongue. “Promise not to laugh?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have a feeling it could be funny.”

She meets Asami’s glance, the playfulness she finds rejuvenating her trust. All the same, it does nothing to soothe her embarrassment. When she finally speaks, she can’t go two words without pausing to check Asami’s reaction. “I thought that you might feel better talking to me with no one else around. And since last time we had to wait 7 hours for that, and it really really sucked, I figured that I could, y’know, try to speed it up a bit. Give us another opportunity, and – are you okay?”

Asami nods, the flush in her cheeks quickly dissipating to make room for happy dimples. “Yeah… I’m fine. Anyway, you do realise it was really lucky that I thought about the same thing, right?”

“Well, what can I say? Seems like luck’s been on my side lately.”

“I guess that makes it two of us. So –” Asami draws her chair closer to Sayuri, then pops down on it “– what would you like to talk about –”

Her nose twitches. Pupils wide, tail bristled, she sniffs the air, closing in on Sayuri until she’s right at her chest. It takes all of Sayuri’s strength to keep her shivering under control. “Kitora-san? What are you doing?”

“Say, did you play with Mashiro before leaving for school?” Her voice is different. Low, growlish, monotone. If she couldn’t see her face right now, Sayuri wouldn’t be able to place it as Asami’s.

“No, she was asleep when I woke up. Why?”

Asami blinks twice. A gasp shoots out her chest. She recoils back, ears flat, expression aghast. When she sits back down, she tucks herself close to the wall. “It’s nothing,” she mutters. “Sorry. You just – you smelled of cat. That’s all.”

Much as Sayuri wants to ask for details, Asami doesn’t afford her the chance. With another, “Sorry,” she puts in her earbuds, then hides her shame into her arms.