First Brush - 5

Despite the rocky start, Sayuri doesn’t abandon the mission she’s set out for herself: figuring out Asami’s boundaries. Though with the awkward half hour they spend in total silence, she won’t lie and say she hasn’t thought about it. Multiple times, even.

But before long, the classroom fills up, and first period comes and goes. Once the chimes ring, save for Takuya who lobs her a glare on his way out the door, no one pays her any mind. She’s free to subtly reach across the aisle, and tap twice on Asami’s desk.

Unsurprisingly, Asami doesn’t look too thrilled about that. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

“I thought we agreed it’s bet to ignore each other during school hours.”

“I remember being vehemently against that. Besides, look around. Nobody cares –”

“I care,” Asami cuts. Still, in an attempt to justify her stubbornness, she throws her gaze around the room. When that proves fruitless, her lip trembles into a pout. “I just don’t want you to become an outcast for my sake, that’s all.”

It takes all of Sayuri’s strength to stop herself from bonking Asami over the head. But nevertheless, it’s not like she hasn’t anticipated this turn of events. If anything, it’s the only thing she’s actually prepared for.

“Well, in that case… say, Kitora-san?” Sayuri says, her voice almost conspicuously loud. “Can I see your notes real quick? I think I might’ve spaced out a couple times in class…” She flashes an innocent, if slightly faux-nervous smile.

Asami squints. “Are you playing dumb or something?”

“Playing? What do you mean? I’ve, uh, always been a bit of a dummy, haha…”

It’s a bad character and her acting skills are somehow even worse, but Sayuri’s never intended this to be a believable bit. All she’s doing now is creating a pretext, a situation in which it would be normal for the two of them to talk, and strange for Asami to brush her off. Of course, that could still happen. Asami could stick to her guns, dismiss or scorn her even, all in the name of clinging to her initial ‘plan’.

Just engendering that possibility is enough to make Sayuri sweat behind the knees, and Asami’s hesitation doesn’t help with that. For a long second, the cat girl stares through her, mulling her options, until she eventually relents a sigh. Good or bad, Sayuri doesn’t know – it’s as neutral as can be.

But then, Asami slides over her notebook. “Here,” she growls.

Sayuri leans over it, making a show out of perusing it. Asami’s notes are worse than hers, a lot of the teacher’s explanations having been omitted in favour of quick doodles, but it’s not like she cares. She got what she was after, and now she can afford to gloat a little.

“Bristly, aren’t we?” Sayuri mutters under her breath.

Asami flicks her ear. “I’m not beneath scratching you just to prove a point, you know?”

“I’m sure, I’m sure. Now, what’s this word here? Disengineous?”

“Disingenuous.”

“What does that mean, again?”

“Someone who’s not being truthful.”

“Huh. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

With that final jab, Sayuri shuts the notebook and swiftly retreats to the safety of her desk. It’s not that she’s worried about Asami actually scratching her, though the daggers she fires her way would make one think otherwise. Rather, she just finds Asami’s pouting to be a lot cuter from a distance.

But if anything, her reaction only serves to confirm Sayuri’s theory. If she can come up with a good enough excuse, Asami would have little objection talking to her. It’s only a matter of creativity, which she’s definitely not lacking, and a matter of time, which a boring first period affords her in droves.

By the lesson’s midpoint, she’s already filled up a page with every scenario she could think of: borrowing pencils, help with assignments, asking to draw the blinds, close a window, share a textbook. Still, that doesn’t feel like it’s anywhere near enough. She needs more, she’s sure of it, but how much more, she can’t readily tell.

Her lips purse into a thin line. What is she hoping to get out of all of this? Because if it’s more time with Asami, then this is probably not the best way to go about things. For all she knows, this little charade of hers is doing nothing to fix the obvious underlying issue. It’s dumb, and selfish, and a year, a month – heck, maybe even a week from now – Asami will realise that too. And she’s deathly afraid of what will happen then.

But until she figures out something better, Sayuri’s got no other choice than to carry on with her current plan. Even if it won’t help, at the very least, it won’t hurt either.

Come lunch, enough time has passed without any interaction between that Sayuri deems it safe to deploy another one of her ideas: teasing Asami with her salmon rolls. But before that, she has to decide how to broach the question, figure out the right amounts of playfulness and nastiness to load her words with. And once that’s out of the way, she plucks a piece of sushi with her chopsticks, dangles it in mid-air and calls out, “Hey –”

“Sayuri-chan!”

At once, the classroom falls silent, their gazes all trained towards the door. Sayuri doesn’t get it at first, staying silent if only to not break rank, but once Mitsuki prances inside, the explanations start pouring in from every direction.

What does Morikawa-sama want with the quiet girl?

You’d think she’d know better than to talk with an obvious commoner.

The princess’s out to find her pauper, again.

“… Sayuri-chan, are you there?”

She blinks, hard, tight. Princess. Takuya. Animosity. Is she a pawn? Why come? Rich. Expensive earrings. Silver necklace. Makeup looks professional. She wants something. Leaning over. Waving her arm. Grabbing hers. “Sayuri-chan?”

“W-what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” Mitsuki chuckles, amused more than off-put, but still a bit of both. “I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch together. Me and my friends found a great spot in middle school. Figured I’d swing by and grab you before heading there myself.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s polite?”

“No, I mean –”

“I know.” Her voice is sweet, low, rife with meaning, with superiority. “I just wanted to talk, that’s all. We didn’t have too much time earlier, and there are so many things I want to ask you. And what better time to do it over a bite to eat? Food loosens the tongue, hehe.”

Sayuri’s brows knit together in a thick frown. Stares are digging into her, hot with envy, scorn and joy. It’s like she’s walled in, pressed to both accept and refuse Mitsuki’s offer – an invitation far beyond her station. Whatever she’ll end up saying, it will be wrong.

“Hayakawa.”

She peeks back at Asami. Ears pulled back, tail between her legs, eyes wide and pleading; she’s scared?

“Oh, cat girl? Didn’t see you there,” Mitsuki says. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to steal your friend or anything. You’re welcome to join us too, if you’d like. The more the merrier, you know?”

The two of them exchange a look, short but far from shallow. Mitsuki’s grin widens into a bright beam. Asami’s shoulders slouch, as she wraps her handkerchief roughly around her bento. “Sure,” she says flatly.

“Yippee. Well, come on then. Lunch break doesn’t last forever,” Mitsuki replies, not even waiting for Sayuri’s reply before heading towards the door.

For a moment, Sayuri remains stuck in place, still unsure whether to stay or go, or what to make of anything. She can’t help feeling like she’s being made fun of in a way, having to adhere to some secret code of conduct that she’s never been made aware of, nor will she ever be. But as she finally thaws out, and packs up her own lunch, Asami pokes her in the side.

“Word of advice. That girl is trouble. Stay away from her.”

“Shouldn’t we… not go with her, then?”

“No,” she says with a certainty hardened by experience. “She’s not the type of person you can say no to. It’s easier if we just follow along, for now. It won’t be long before she gets bored.”