Chapter 49: The Pink-Haired Transfer

"Good morning, class." Tanaka-sensei drones on, but no one is listening. The air in class 1-B is electric.

"We have a new transfer student," he says, looking at his notes with a confused expression. "It is very unusual for this late in the semester, but it seems she has 'special' circumstances."

The class starts whispering. A transfer? Now?

"Please, come in, Sakura-san."

The classroom door slides open. And she walks in. The entire class, every boy, just stops breathing.

She is tiny, barely five feet tall. And she is cute. Not goddess-level-beauty like Ayako; she is anime-level-cute. She has big, bright, violet-colored eyes (contacts, probably) and bubblegum pink hair. It is not a dye-job; it is pink, and it is in two, fluffy, 'Sailor Moon' style pigtails.

She is wearing the Shinjin High uniform, but she has customized it. The skirt is just a little too short. Her socks are bright pink. She has a pink, fluffy keychain on her bag. She is 'moe'. She is a walking, breathing, anime trope.

"Hiiii!" she chirps, and her voice is like tiny bells. She clasps her hands together and does a perfect, ninety-degree bow. "My name is Sakura Hanazawa! I am sixteen! My hobbies are video games, eating sweets, and making new friends! Please take care of me!"

The class explodes. "KAWAIIII!" the guys all yell. "Oh, my God, she is like an idol!" the girls whisper.

I just stare. This is... a lot.

I glance at Ayako. Her face is ice. She is not looking at the girl; she is looking at me. She sees me looking. I look away, fast.

"Right," Tanaka-sensei says, clearly flustered. "Yes. Welcome, Hanazawa-san. Let's find you a seat..."

"Oh! Oh!" Sakura chirps, her hand shooting up, pigtails bouncing. "Can I sit... there?"

She is pointing. She is pointing at the empty desk. The one... right... behind... me. Oh, crap.

Tanaka-sensei just melts. "Oh! Yes! Of course! Minatawa-kun, try not to bother her."

"I... got it."

The girl, Sakura, bounces down the aisle. "Hiii!" she whispers to Taka, who just... "guh..."

She slides into the seat behind me. I can smell her. She smells like strawberries. And bubblegum.

"Hi!" she whispers to the back of my head. "I am Sakura! What is your name?"

I turn around, just slightly. "Shoujo Minatawa," I mutter.

"Shoujo-kun!" she says, her eyes sparkling. "What a cool name! You look so strong!"

I... I... what? My face feels hot. "Uh... thanks?"

"Minatawa!" Tanaka-sensei barks. "Face front!"

I snap back around. What the hell.

The rest of the day is a circus. This 'Sakura' is a phenomenon. At lunch, she is swarmed. Boys are offering to buy her lunch. Girls are asking her where she gets her hair-clips.

I am on the roof. Alone. I need the quiet.

"This," I mutter to myself, "is inefficient."

The door opens. It is Ayako. She has her perfect bento box. She does not say anything. She walks over. She sits. Five feet away. Our new normal.

"So," I say, after a minute of silence. "The new girl."

"She is a variable," Ayako says, her voice tight.

"A cute variable," I say.

Ayako snaps her chopsticks. Not breaks them. But the sound is sharp.

I just smirk. "What? She is. She is like an anime character."

"She is loud," Ayako says, her voice pure venom. "Her hair is inefficient. Her voice is problematic. She is a mess."

"So," I say, "you do not like her."

"I do not like anyone," Ayako corrects. "I tolerate. And she is difficult to tolerate."

"She sat behind you," Ayako says, her gaze on the skyline.

"I know. I was there."

"She talked to you."

"She did."

"She called you cool."

"She did."

Ayako is silent. She stabs a piece of broccoli.

"She is too perfect," Ayako whispers.

My smirk vanishes. I turn. "What?"

"Her performance," Ayako says, her voice analytical. "It is too good. Her persona, 'Moe-Idol Transfer,' is flawless. People do not act like that."

"They do in anime," I point out.

"This is not anime," Ayako hisses. "This is Shinjin High. She is a lie."

My blood runs cold. I did not even see it. I was just flustered. But Ayako... she sees. She is a predator. And she just smelled another predator.

"You... you think she is dangerous?" I whisper.

"I think," Ayako says, her voice like ice, "she is a professional."

She looks at me, her eyes black. "And... she chose the seat behind you. Your asset is her target."

Oh, crap.