Chapter 11: The Chase, The Truck, and The Idiot's Reflexes

"GET BACK HERE, YOU STUPID PRINCE!"

I am furious.

"Panda-handled?!"

That-That word! It’s not even a word!

He’s running. He’s actually running from me, his stupid, fluffy dog Potato bounding joyfully beside him, probably thinking this is a new game.

"AOI! WAIT UP!"

"THIS IS GOLD! GO, AOI, GO! AVENGE YOUR HONOR!"

Toujo and Rika are spilling out of the sports store, Rika holding a new shoebox, Toujo holding his phone up, filming me.

I’ll deal with him later.

"YOU CAN’T RUN FOREVER, FUJI!" I roar, dodging a woman with a stroller.

The Saturday crowd parts for me. They see the "Bloody Twilight" glare, a look of pure, murderous rage, and they move.

It’s like the Red Sea-ing, but with more velocity.

Fuji, however, is an athlete. He’s fast. He's weaving through the crowd, "Excuse me, so sorry, pardon me!" like a polite, infuriating gazelle.

He glances back, that stupid white hair catching the sun.

I see him smirk again.

"OH, YOU ARE SO DEAD!"

I’m not a soccer star, but I'm something else.

I am the top-ranked martial artist in the school (unofficially). I am the girl who won the all-city track meet (before I was disqualified for "excessive intimidation").

I am fast.

I stop weaving through the crowd and start using the environment.

I vault over a public bench.

I cut through a perfume display (ignoring the saleswoman’s shriek).

I am gaining on him.

"HE’S IN TROUBLE NOW!" Toujo screams from a block away. "SHE’S USING THE BENCH-VAULT! IT'S SUPER EFFECTIVE!"

Fuji looks back again. His eyes widen.

He sees I'm closing the gap.

He bolts.

He hangs a sharp right into a narrow side-alley, a shortcut to the next street.

"YOU CAN’T HIDE!" I yell, skidding around the corner after him.

I’m so focused on the back of his stupid head.

I’m so focused on wiping that "panda-handled" smirk off his face forever.

I’m so focused...

...that I don't see the truck.

It’s a 2-ton delivery truck, backing out of a loading bay, right into the alley.

The driver can’t see me. I can’t see him.

The high, piercing BEEP-BEEP-BEEP of its reverse alarm is just... part of the city noise.

I am in its blind spot.

Fuji, who has already reached the end of the alley, looks back to taunt me.

His face changes.

The smirk is gone.

The color drains from his face.

"AOI!"

His voice is not a taunt. It’s a scream.

I don't even have time to register what he’s screaming about.

He’s 30 feet in front of me.

In one second, he’s not.

He’s sprinting back.

His eyes are wide with actual, genuine terror.

I stop, confused. "What-?"

HOOOOOOOONK!

The truck's main horn blares. I turn my head.

All I see is a wall of metal and a grille.

It’s too close. I can’t move.

My "Bloody Twilight" reflexes are useless.

WHAM!

A body-Fuji’s body-slams into mine.

It's not an attack. It's a tackle.

He hits me with all the force of a soccer-star captain.

His arms wrap around my waist, and he uses his momentum to throw us.

We fly sideways, out of the truck’s path.

Time slows down.

I hear Rika scream my name.

I hear Toujo yell, "HOLY-!"

I hear the screech of the truck's brakes, just inches from where I was standing.

We hit the pavement.

Hard.

I land on... something. Something solid, but... soft?

Ugh.

I landed on him.

He absorbed the entire impact.

I’m fine. I’m just... sprawled on top of my #1 rival in a dirty alley.

The truck driver is yelling, "Are you kids okay?! I didn't see you!"

Toujo and Rika are sprinting up, Rika already crying.

Fuji... isn't moving.

"Hey," I hiss, scrambling off him. "Idiot. Did you-?"

He’s on his back, groaning.

"Potato..." he whispers.

"What?"

"Potato... did you get the license plate...?" he gasps.

His stupid dog, Potato, just runs up and starts licking his face, wagging its entire body.

"Ugh. Dog spit. Again." Fuji tries to sit up, pushing the dog away, and that's when he winces.

A sharp, painful wince.

"Fuji-kun! Aoi-chan! Are you okay?!" Rika skids to a stop next to us.

"We... we’re fine," I say, brushing myself off. My heart is hammering so hard it feels like it’s trying to escape my ribcage.

"Speak for yourself," Fuji mutters.

He pushes himself up onto one elbow.

And that’s when I see it.

His sleeve... his right sleeve... it's torn.

And under it, his arm is...

"Oh, god," Rika whispers.

It’s bleeding.

A long, nasty scrape, all the way from his elbow to his shoulder, from where he slid on the pavement.

"Dude," Toujo says, his face pale, phone forgotten. "Your arm is... messed up."

"It's fine," Fuji says, his teeth gritted. "'Tis but a scratch."

He tries to stand up.

"It’s just-"

He puts weight on his left leg, and his whole body collapses.

He lets out a sharp, involuntary gasp of pain.

"Okay," he says, staring at the ground, his voice tight. "Maybe... not just a scratch."

My fault.

This... this is my fault.

My peaceful life.

It's really, really gone now.