Story: Recording (all chapters)

RECORDING

Chapter One

I Got Us a Show

Weathermen are so unreliable, Nakano Azusa thought dismally as she watched the rain dot the music room window like clear round diamonds. When the second year left for school that morning gray and purple clouds had formed a low, bruised ceiling over the town. The meteorologist had insisted that that was as bad as today's weather would get. Azusa snorted, angry she hadn't exercised better common sense and brought an umbrella.

"Hey, are we gonna practice, or what?" she spoke up, puncturing the silence that hung over the music room.

"We're gonna practice," Tainaka Ritsu nodded. "...eventually," she finished lamely. She rested her head on the table, ready to join Hirasawa Yui in an afternoon nap.

"So much rain this month," Kotobuki Tsumugi sighed, picking a glazed apple fritter apart with her fingers. "It kind of makes you tired, ne?"

Ritsu and Akiyama Mio nodded assent. Yui snored softly, a puddle of drool forming on the table. Azusa, arms crossed, sighed, silently agreeing.

"Hopefully, it'll let up by Halloween so we can go trick-or-treating," Mugi added brightly.

Ritsu considered the window, as if silently imploring the rain to cease. She shrugged nonchalantly. "If it doesn't, we could just stay in and watch movies." She grinned at Mio. "Ever seen Cabin Fever, Mio?"

The raven-haired girl stiffened. She didn't like the sound of that title.

Ritsu's brown eyes glinted at her best friend's anxious expression. She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a husky groan. "It's about five kids caught out in the woods with a flesh-eating virus claiming them one by one!"

Mio sank back in her chair, her pupils dilating and contracting in terror. A low squeak escaped her throat.

"Matter of fact..." The drummer darkly considered the rest of the band. "...any one of us could have it...right nowwww," she hissed.

Ritsu resisted the urge to giggle at Mio's face. The bassist's chin jerked up as she gulped.

"Could it be you? Or Mugi? Azusa?...Yui?" Not that Mio could probably hear her anyway. At this point she'd covered her ears.

"Oh my God!" Ritsu exclaimed loud enough for her friend to hear. "Yui's got the virus and she's gushing blood everywhere!"

"IIIIYYYYAAAAAHHHHH!" Mio shrieked. She leapt up and retreated to her safe corner. Raw shivers racked the poor girl's spine. Yui...blood...crimson, sticky liquid oozing everywhere...It made the bassist's flesh crawl. "I don't see it," she told herself, effectively trying to shun that mental picture.

Ritsu snickered, settling back in her chair. That was a flight response. (Her health class had been studying fear response.) Mugi smiled good-naturedly over her tea cup. Nothing less from these two. Before, she could never understand Ritsu's driving need to scare Mio, but of late the keyboardist had a hunch...

It was then Sawako popped in to join the Light Music Club for tea. She sat in her usual spot, Mio returned to the table, and the conversation flowed as effortlessly as the tea. Azusa added her two bits now and then. But mostly she listened for the rain to stop. I could ask someone for an umbrella...But she was too proud for that.

"So I got us a show," Sawako announced. That caught the entire band's attention (save for Yui, who was still asleep).

"A concert? You did? Really?" Mio exclaimed, her voice tinged with both happiness and anxiety.

"Where is it?" Ritsu asked.

"How did you do this?" Azusa inquired.

The four band members chatted excitedly about their inevitable performance and bombarded their manager with questions. Eventually Sawako roared, "SHUT UP!" and they did.

"I have a cousin," she explained, "who runs a restaurant/bar out in Yokohama. Apparently New Order is on a world tour, and they have a show posted there. But they didn't have an opening band, so..."

"New Order?" Azusa's normally hooded eyes widened. "Oh, my goodness..."

"What's New Order?" Mugi asked innocently.

"Probably the best-known indie rock band ever." The guitarist shook her head in disbelief. "We could get known! This is huge."

"When's the concert?" Ritsu asked.

"November 6th," Sawako answered blithely.

No sooner had she announced the date than wee Azusa was out of her seat, her Fender Mustang strapped around her slight frame. They had wasted enough time gabbing over tea and cakes. Now they had a concert - a real concert with a real band - in less than a month! It was time to practice, damn it!

"C'mon, let's go," she ordered anxiously, plucking out a minor scale on her guitar. "If we have to play with New Order, we can't suck."

"We don't suck!" Ritsu protested.

"We just might in comparison," Mio groaned. She shared Azusa's apprehension about playing with a famous band. She got out her 3-tone sunburst Fender Precision bass, her right hand dashing along the frets, her left hand retrieving her pick from the pickguard.

Mugi hopped up to take her place behind her Korg Triton Extreme. Ritsu, a bit more reluctant than the keyboardist, seated herself at her Yamaha Hipgig drumkit. Mugi warmed herself up with arpeggios whilst the drummer tapped the high-hat.

Azusa nudged the sleeping Yui. "Wake up, Yui-senpai," she said, her voice taking a mock-cheerful tone.

Yui just sighed and buried her face deeper in her arms.

The pigtailed girl shook the older girl's shoulder. "Yui-senpai~" she sang. "Time to wake up~" She continued to prod Yui as she sang, "We have a concert in two and a half weeks~That's not a lot of time to get to New Order's level of greatness~Now Azusa's losing patience so WAKE UP~"

"Just five more minutes," Yui groaned.

Is she kidding? Thoroughly outraged, Azusa hauled the third year up by her collar and shook her.

"No, you may not have five more minutes!" she ranted. "What, has this band changed its name to After School Nap Time? Get your guitar and stop being lazy!"

Despite her getting owned in the face, Yui smiled. "Does Azu-nyan need a hug?" she chirped. Before Azusa could protest Yui had seized her in a tender embrace. The senpai pressed her body against Azusa's and nuzzled her cheek. "It'll be okay," she assured softly. "We always manage to rock ultimate at the festivals, ne?"

The kouhai shuddered, not liking the meaning manage implied. "Hai," she agreed, leaning into Yui's embrace, "but a festival is in a completely different ballpark than a concert." She sighed and linked her hand with Yui's. "But maybe if we use our time wisely, we won't get booed off stage..."

"Of course we won't," Yui murmured.

Mugi lowered her chin, her blue eyes fixed levelly on the two guitarists. She giggled. Quite a convenient situation. On their own accord, her eyes drifted over to Sawako. The sensei was also watching Yui and Azusa; her expression was similar to that of the keyboardist. Sawa-chan and I have a lot in common, Mugi realized. At any rate, we're both privy to... She blushed and turned her attention back to the guitarists. They had broken their embrace, and Yui was strapping on her Gibson cherry sunburst Les Paul.

Yui cleared her throat. "So, uh...Let's play something..."

"Yeah!" Ritsu cheered.

"Aren't you energetic, all of a sudden," Mio commented dryly.

Twirling her sticks, Ritsu grinned, "That's 'cause drummers naturally produce their own caffeine!" She did a rim-shot, the unexpected, sharp sound surprising the bassist. "Let's play Light and Fluffy Time!"

"Yayness!" Mugi acclaimed, setting her fingers to the appropriate keys.

Azusa was practically jumping with excitement. "Count us in before the stoked moment passes!"

"Live from Music Room 3! We are After School Tea Time!" Ritsu crowed. "One, two, three, four!"

A few minutes later...

Mio sighed, out of breath from her singing. The bass strings squeaked slightly as she released her fingers from them. This was her favorite part about playing in a band: that buzz you feel after playing your song, you can practically see the atomic structures in the air vibrating. But, reality...

"Do we sound bad?" she breathlessly asked.

Sawako shrugged as she finished her tea. "I don't know. Do you?"

"We do, don't we? I knew it..."

"Stop fussing and let's play the song again!" Ritsu rooted.

"Anyways," Sawako smirked, "the audience will probably love you regardless of how you sound. To be honest, the lion's share of 'em will be there for you, not New Order."

Azusa blinked. "Eh? Who comes to a concert just for the opening band?"

"Well, y'know, when the opening band is a bunch of cute high school girls..."

Ritsu blanched. "Sawa-chan. What kind of 'restaurant/bar' does your cousin run?"

Sawako toyed with her tea cup a little. "Ah, well, y'see, Tainaka-san...It's a bit of a niche market thing. But it's got an appeal of its own..."

"You're stalllllling!" the drummer sang.

The sensei smiled and looked up boldly. "It's a lesbian cosplay cafe!"

Nothing daunted, Sawako watched as the color ebbed from Mio's face. A virtual shadow fell over Azusa's eyes. Yui flinched. Ritsu gnawed her lip. Only Mugi's expression remained the same; on the contrary, the blonde girl actually seemed delighted.

"I think that's a wonderful and clever concept," Mugi nodded, as if reading her friends' minds. "I'm sure there are plenty of lesbians out there who are into cosplay. They need a place of their own, too."

"Try this concept," Mio grimaced. "Having a bunch of lonely, horny women pawing all over you." The thought alone was almost enough to send the bassist back into her corner. Then she wondered if New Order knew their next venue was a lesbian cosplay cafe.

Sawako snickered and slinked up behind Mio. "This is the perfect opportunity to get you into costume!" she purred.

Mio squeezed her eyes shut as her breath hollowed in her throat. Her palms became clammy. She wrung her hands, as if trying to alleviate herself of the creepy-crawly sensations.

"What was your excuse before, Sawa-chan?" Mugi teased.

Sawako giggled sheepishly as she threw her arm behind her head. "Eheheheh...A good point you make, Mugi-chan." The sensei straightened her posture and quietly considered the blonde keyboardist. Tsumugi was far and away Sawako's best student. She was well-mannered, elegant, got decent grades...and then there was the tea. What's not to like about a girl who makes you tea?

With an effort, the manager tore her bespectacled eyes from Mugi. Sawako indicated the keyboardist and the bassist. "Maybe I should dress you guys up as Yaya and Hikari!"

Ritsu exploded into a fit of laughter.

"No, thank you," said Mio in a tight voice. Do I even WANT to know who those people are?

"No?" Sawako blinked. "Okay. Then how 'bout Chikane and Himeko?"

Now Ritsu roared.

"No, thank you," the bassist said again.

"Mari and Akko?"

"No!" Mio exploded. Aren't there any yuri couples who don't have black and blonde hair?

Azusa impatiently strummed an A7 chord on her guitar, her favorite chord. "I think what we sound like will be more important than what we look like."

"I agree," Mio nodded, eager to end this weird yuri cosplay conversation.

The rain had not slackened by the end of practice. Blowing rainwater off her nose, Azusa watched as Mio, Ritsu, and Mugi departed with their umbrellas. The only person other than herself who had forgotten her umbrella was Yui. At first the kouhai felt a bit peeved at being in the same boat as the clumsy brunette. Then she decided that just didn't matter now.

"Anoo, senpai..." Azusa sheepishly itched an eyebrow. "Do you by any chance follow the weather reports?"

Yui shook her head. "I wake up too late in the morning to catch 'em. Why?"

A drop of sweat appeared on the pigtailed girl's head. Nothing less from Yui-senpai... But she smiled appreciatively at Yui.

"Well, uh...They said it wasn't supposed to rain today, so I didn't bring my umbrella. Pretty stupid of me, eh?"

Yui giggled and a pink blush dashed her cheeks. "Not bad, but try this. This morning I woke up so late that I didn't have time to grab my umbrella!"

"Oi! This isn't a stupid contest, Yui-senpai!" The younger girl sighed. Before the two of them the rain lashed down in sheets. However, they were safe under the overhang, in their pale patch of dryness on the pavement. "...but I suppose you just won."

Azusa gasped when she felt Yui take her hand. The senpai was leading the kouhai into the deluge.

"How far away do you live?"

Azusa blinked at the seemingly random question. The rain was already plastering her bangs to her forehead. She pointed in the direction opposite of that in which Yui was leading her. "The subdivision down by the electronics store."

Yui stopped running and turned to face Azusa. Rainwater dripped from her chin and touseled brown hair. "Would you like to stay at my place until the rain lets up? It's closer."

The pigtailed girl looked upward, facing the tempest dead-on. Who knew how long it would last? It could go on through midnight...

"Sure," she blurted, facing Yui again. "I'd have to notify my parents, but I can stay. Arigatougosaimasu."

RECORDING

Chapter Two

Things That Go Bump in the Night

Azusa hung on to Yui's arm to keep herself from getting lost in the storm. She tried turning her face away from the stinging rain, but the strong, ambiguous wind whipped it in all directions. They were running blind. In the younger girl's vision was nothing but gray sheeting rain, traffic lights, and restaurant signs. She wondered if she could rely so heavily on Yui's sense of direction in this situation. Sighing, Azusa buried her face in the senpai's coat. That made a decent shield.

Yui then came to a sudden halt and Azusa crashed into her. Squinting in the downpour, the kouhai interpreted a horizontal yellow-and-black striped bar. Train gate, she realized.

Yui, who had been in space cadet mode this entire time, looked up when she felt Azusa shiver. She wordlessly considered the pigtailed girl. A patchy, rosy flush colored her cheeks and ears. Her brown eyes were listless. Her elbows were crunched into her sides for warmth. Her shaky breath escaped her mouth in feathery white puffs. It is pretty freezing for October, Yui thought, touching her own numb ears. And Azu-nyan doesn't have a coat or anything. Feeling like an utter heel for not noticing before, Yui unbuttoned her coat and held it open to Azusa. The kouhai backed away, her expression uncertain. It was clear that she wanted to, though she didn't know if she should.

"Get in," Yui nodded, and Azusa hurriedly complied. The third year held half her coat around the second year as the two speedily crossed the tracks. Azusa found it even harder to keep up with Yui's pace in her coat. Even more awkward to the kouhai was how close she was pressed to Yui. No matter where she placed her hands or arms, she touched Yui. The senpai, however, didn't seem the least bit fazed by this deepened intimacy.

"I wonder how people are seeing us now?" Azusa wondered out loud.

Yui kept her eyes forward as she mused, "They probably think we're sisters or something."

Sisters or something. Azusa hoped to every Kami that no one saw them as anything more.

Yui grinned at her. "This is a pretty romantic scene, though, ne?" Azusa squeaked as the senpai took her hand. "If this were a French movie, I'd be proposing to you."

With a panicked squawk, the kouhai tore out of Yui's coat, preferring the rain to this embarrassing situation. "I-I wouldn't marry you!" she spluttered.

Yui giggled at Azusa's expression, which shifted from outrage to vulnerability and back again. "What's to worry about it? We're both girls."

"That's exactly why I wouldn't!"

Yui noticed that the blush on Azusa's face was no longer a mottled red patch but a soft pink glow.

The evening hours thundered away with the tempest, which decided to continue on its eastward course and torment other towns. In its wake it left downed powerlines, tree limbs, and a potent gale that just wouldn't quit.

Mio lay flat on her back in her pitch-black bedroom, anxiously gnawing her quilt. The bassist only wished the hiss of the wind was all she could hear. But then and throughout the restless night the sound of footsteps echoed hollowly in the house. . Very quick and light, almost inaudible, with a hint of urgency.

In the inky blackness Mio managed to find her cell phone. She flipped it open. 1:17. Everybody should be asleep, then, she thought. Mr. and Mrs. Akiyama, being past their prime, often retired before nine o'clock.

It's a burglar. A fuzzy chill sprouted in Mio's head. There is a strange man in my house. She pulled the covers over her head and squeaked in horror. Tears prickled the bassist's slate-colored eyes. Why did she have to be the one to deal with this while her parents got to sleep?

By the resonance, Mio guessed this burglar was on the staircase. What was weird was that the quickening footsteps grew and receded over and over. Why is he running up and down the stairs? This made Mio even more nervous.

On her own accord, she shoved her hand out and tore open her nightstand drawer. Her hand, reduced to a clumsy, useless thing in her panicked state, fumbled through some miscellaneous knick-knacks until she found what she was looking for. With a click of her flashlight, an amber circle of light fell upon her softball bat in the corner. She knew what she would do with that bat.

Mio's kneecaps twitched spasmodically as she stalked out into the hallway, her bat cocked. The circle of light swung back and forth to illuminate both ends. Empty. Hesitantly, she turned the light forward. As she inched forth, the thunkthunkthunk crescendoed. The rhythm of the steps matched the rhythm of her heart. Soon they were a stereo cacophony surrounding her. They were incredibly loud, or maybe it only seemed that way. Whoever was in her house, Mio had the feeling that she was standing right beside him or her.

"I'm n-not scared," Mio whispered. But her beam of light tilted and scooted. "I'm not scared," she repeated, more loudly. "You think I'm just frightened and helpless? Well, you got another thing coming. You don't scare me!" she hollered in her most aggressive voice. Gripping her flashlight tighter, she swung it to her left and saw...

A shadow. A blurry humanoid umbra with no person to cast it.

Mio's breath snagged in her throat. A hammerblow of numb terror struck her head.

The footsteps stopped abruptly. For a moment the shadow stood there. And in that instant they knew each other. There was a high-pitched gasp - or perhaps it was a sob - and the shadow seemed to melt into the cream-colored wall. A low hiss rang in the stairwell. Right before the umbra vanished completely it sighed either "Nooooo" or "Miooooooo."

The bat fell and clattered to the base of the stairs. But its noise was lost in Mio's epic screech. Never, ever in her life had the raven-haired girl experienced such mindless terror. Flailing her hands out for anything in the burning darkness, she tore her way back to her room. There Mio barricaded the door with a wicker armchair and hid under the covers, curled into a ball.

She waited for the false alarm call to come. It always did when she got scared. Barnacles on your knee - just kidding. ZOMG, a ghost - no, it's just Mugi. Agh, a zombie - actually, it's just Ritsu clowning around.

But no false alarm came. And that was really scary.

RECORDING

Chapter Three

The Games People Play

When Yui was in kindergarten her friend Reiji had been suspended for kissing her and offering to take her to Paris. They never spoke to each other again after that.

That wind-blown night Yui dreamed of that memory, only Reiji was replaced by Azusa. The details were fuzzy, and the brunette felt oddly distant from the scenario. But she was aware of their recklessness. They knew it was wrong, but they did it anyway. Ui entered the scene, presumably to bring the hammer down on them, when Yui jolted awake. For a moment she couldn't move her body. Then she rolled onto her side, her limbs trembling.

Azusa was right beside her. The kouhai was on her back, wide awake, staring out into space.

Yui blinked. Then she remembered that Ui had invited Azusa to stay the night. Groggily, the senpai extended her hand until it was touching Azusa's arm.

"Have you been awake this entire time?" she hummed.

Azusa snapped out of her reverie with a start. She turned her wide, surprised eyes over to Yui, then nodded. "I can't sleep."

"What's wrong?"

The kouhai looked back up at the ceiling and bit her lip. Yui inched closer, anxious to hear what was troubling Azusa so much. The dreamlike distant feeling still plagued the senpai's head and she fought to focus on her friend's pained face.

"I realized I have a dentist appointment coming up." Azusa could've kicked herself for saying that.

"Ahh, I hate going to the dentist!" Yui nodded. "Just ask her to put that numbing gel on your teeth. Then it won't hurt."

"Okay."

Though it was true Azusa had to go to the dentist in a few days, that wasn't what was keeping her awake.

"Yui-senpai," she blurted. "I-I'm sorry…"

Flummoxed, Yui propped herself up on her elbow. "Sorry about what?"

Azusa gazed sorrowfully at Yui, her chestnut-colored eyes swimming. "Sorry for yelling at you earlier today."

Yui's smile was so friendly and warm, it banished the mid-autumn chill. "It's okay. I don't mind Azu-nyan's yelling and God knows I deserve a good holler every now and then. Besides," she added, settling back down with her head nestled between the younger girl's shoulder and neck, "Azu-nyan is so kawaii when she's frustrated."

"Oi, oi, I don't get frustrated for the sake of service, Yui-senpai," Azusa frowned. Then she sighed, "But…I said I'd never marry you…I…I…didn't mean it…"

"I know."

The kouhai looked at Yui sharply. "You knew?"

"I like playing with Azu-nyan, and often she'll play the game with me," the senpai giggled.

Though Yui had accepted her apology, Azusa couldn't help but still feel dissatisfied.

RECORDING

Chapter Four

There's Gotta Be a Morning After

Azusa woke up slowly. Turning onto her back, she noted with only a little interest the sunrise. Dawn broke crisp and cold over the frosty horizon, casting sharp rays upon the rapidly advancing clouds. The wind kept up its strong current, whipping the naked trees hither and thither. Even though the covers were nice and toasty, Azusa could already tell this was going to be another freezing day.

A little unwillingly, the second year sat up. After her midnight chat with Yui, she had slept heavy. The kind of sleep where you feel like you've been punched. The kind of sleep that feels so, so good.

Beside her, Yui snoozed on her tummy, hugging her pillow close to her face. Azusa tilted her head at the senpai. An odd smile spread across her face. Yui never worried about anything, yet her life ran more smoothly than the kouhai's.

I like playing with Azu-nyan, and often she'll play the game with me. The younger girl winced as Yui's blithe words crashed down on her. Game. What kind of a weird metaphor was that? And since when did Yui use metaphors?

Azusa shook her head. Too early for this. She was getting a headache and it wasn't even six o'clock. The kouhai left Yui sleeping and dressed herself in her uniform. As soon as she left the room she could hear a pan sizzling from afar. Sure enough, she found Yui's little sister, already in full uniform, making an omelette. Azusa was surprised, but not as much as Ui when she entered the kitchen.

"Ohayo, Ui-chan."

Ui jumped. In her shock she'd thrown her glass up in the air and frantically tried to catch it. She missed once...twice...In an act of sheer desperation Ui kicked out and caught the glass by balancing it on her foot. Exhaling at last, she picked up the glass and set it on the counter.

"Gomenasai, Ui," Azusa apologized.

"'Sokay," Ui smiled. "I'm just used to being on my own this early in the morning."

The guitarist thought of Yui with her face in her pillow and felt heat rise in her chest and face. "Yeah, I'll bet."

Ui held up the pan. "Omelette?"

"No, thanks. I couldn't impose..."

"Oh, it's alright. In fact, I insist."

In the end the swart-haired girl resigned and soon she was kneeling before the table, enjoying the omelette. It was delicious. Ui had put fire-roasted tomatoes and carmelized onions in it. Azusa was only halfway done with the culinary masterpiece when Ui set a mug of fresh coffee in front of her.

"Arigatou," the guitarist smiled.

"Cream and sugar?" Ui offered.

"No, thanks." Azusa blew away the steam before taking a sip...and then a deep gulp. If it was possible, the coffee was even more heavenly than the omelette. Smooth and mellow with a nut-like taste. She blinked sheepishly when Ui set a dish of sliced honeydew before her.

"Fruit, too? Wow. Thanks, Ui-chan. You'll make someone an awesome wife."

Ui smiled and blushed in response. Then she set her own breakfast on the table. Just as she'd kneeled, though, she considered the clock.

"Oh! I better wake up oneechan."

Azusa wiped her mouth and stood. "I'll do it. You enjoy your breakfast." And she darted away down the hall.

Being a creature of routine, Ui was slow to accept that someone was doing the work for her. That was not to say that she didn't appreciate it. But sometimes waking up oneechan can be an all-out tribulation, she thought, chewing her omelette. It takes patience...which I'm not sure Azusa-chan can provide...

Her worries were confirmed when she heard screaming from down the hall.

"Ahh! Azu-nyan, what are you doing?"

"I shouldn't have to do this, Yui-senpai! You're too old for this!"

Ui nearly choked on her omelette when Azusa entered the kitchen with Yui slung by her ankle over the kouhai's shoulder. Azusa's face was pinched with effort. Yui's was turning from red to purple.

"My vision's clouding over!" the senpai protested. "Please put me down!"

"Are you going to start waking yourself up in the morning?"

"Hai!"

"Swear it."

"I swear I'll wake myself up!"

"Swear it formally."

Yui moaned. Her eyes were dim and unfocused. "Um...I, Hirasawa Yui, do solemnly swear to wake myself up!"

Azusa set her down then. She watched as Yui's face faded from purple to flesh.

Ritsu was having a fairly good day. Her incomplete essay on popular culture was due today. But her Writing For College teacher got carried away on a lecture and decided to push the due date to Monday. In Spanish she got her test back, and scored better than she thought she would. After school she would have tea and jam with her friends. Simple pleasures all, but the drummer could string them together to make an awesome day.

It had a downtick or two, however. Before school hours she'd met up with Yui and Azusa. They were behaving...unusually. Yui seemed a little downcast and distant, Azusa a bit peevish. The kouhai angrily muttered something about a game before running off to her physics class. After she departed, Ritsu tried making conversation with Yui. The guitarist mumbled about a weird dream, but refused to elaborate.

Yui and Azusa weren't the only ones who weren't themselves today.

Ritsu strolled into her psychology class, smiling at the familiar cascade of black hair in the second row center seat. Snickering into her palm, the drummer crept up until she was kneeling directly behind Mio. As light as a feather yet as sharp as a triggerfish, Ritsu ran her finger up her friend's spine.

"Flesh-eating virus!"

"EEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!" Mio stopped the entire class silent with her scream. She jumped up, nearly tripping over her chair.

THOCK! The bassist raised a lump on Ritsu's head.

"Don't scare m-me like that, b-baka!" Mio rasped. Her voice was hoarse. Ritsu looked up and flinched. Mio's face was pale, almost gray, and her hair was messy. Her slate eyes were bright, wild, and darted about, the bottom lids swollen and dark. She looked like one of those meth addicts Ritsu saw pictures of in health.

"You are really wound tight today..." The drummer stood up straight and touched Mio's quivering hand. "Are you alright?"

Tears glittered in the bassist's eyes. "I didn't sleep last night," she whimpered.

"At all?" Ritsu gasped.

Mio squeezed her sore eyes shut and shook her head. She sank down in her chair. Everytime she closed her eyes, though, she saw the shadow melting into the wall. But it hurt to open her eyes, to look at things. She hadn't wanted to come to school today, but her parents made her.

"I-I'm not c-coming to practice t-today."

Ritsu nodded understandingly, her hazel eyes wide and sympathetic. "Okay. Yeah. Go right home and get some rest." She waited for Mio to explain. There had to be something going on. A montage of scenarios ran through the drummer's head, each one worse than the last. A boy rejected Mio's feelings? Her parents are getting a divorce?

Maybe someone died. Ritsu's jaw dropped. Oh, no. A brief surge of emotion burst into her veins. Then the logical half of her brain took over. If someone in her family died, surely Mr. and Mrs. Tainaka would've heard it and told Ritsu. The drummer found it odd how...oblique and secretive everyone was being. Maybe it was something that personally and exclusively involved Yui, Azusa, and Mio. Maybe I should just butt out.

Yeah, right. She was Ritsu and this was Mio. Ritsu never butted out of Mio's affairs. They were such close friends that it was impossible to tell where one of them ended and the other began.

The bell to start class rang.

Ritsu briefly hugged Mio and whispered, "If you need anything...like to talk...I'm here."

Mio gave her an odd look, and nodded once.

The drummer sighed and took her seat. Their psych teacher, Tokudaiji-sensei, was already instructing his students to turn to such-and-such page.

"What is 'code-switching'?" he asked.

He waited as the silence stretched out. Ritsu turned in her seat, scanning the classroom. Her eyes fell upon Mugi's empty desk. She blinked. She'd seen the keyboardist before Spanish class, so she knew she was here. The drummer's brow puckered. Where was she?

As if in response to Ritsu's question, the door burst open and Mugi staggered in, out of breath. The drummer gasped. Mio bit her lip. The rest of the class murmured anxiously. What they'd thought to be impossible had just happened. Tsumugi was late.

"You're tardy, Kotobuki-san," Tokudaiji-sensei said flatly.

"Gomenasai," Mugi choked, bowing. "I was held up in-"

"You know I don't accept excuses. A tardy is a tardy."

"S-sumimasen," the blonde sighed, bowing lower.

Ritsu's eyes widened as Tokudaiji retrieved the dreaded pink paper from his desk. She gnawed her fist in apprehension. Holy crap! Mugi's getting a detention! She turned her nervous gaze over to Mio. The bassist's head sank lower toward her desk, her pencil slipping from her left hand. What the hell is up with everybody today?

"Who is your homeroom teacher?" Tokudaiji inquired, filling out the detention.

"Sawa-uhh, I mean, Yamanaka-sensei." Mugi felt weird referring to Sawako so formally.

The psych teacher nodded, then handed Mugi the damned slip. "Report directly to her after school. If you try to dip out, you will be suspended."

"H-hai." The blonde girl's hands falteringly accepted her fated detention. She lurched on over to her desk, her face bright red, trying to ignore her classmates' prying eyes.

Tokudaiji cleared his throat. "Anyways...Code-switching. Don't tell me you don't know what it is because you ladies do it all the time. It's..." He halted and his face spoiled with disgust. "...Seriously?" he growled.

Ritsu followed his glare...right to Akiyama Mio. The raven-haired girl was off in la-la land, slumped over her desk, her right arm hanging over the end, her face buried in her left arm. Her torso rose and fell slowly in tandem with her breathing.

A few girls giggled. A weird, stinging sensation prickled the drummer's eyes. Her hands felt cold and tingly, but her head throbbed hotly. What was going on? Ritsu never felt this way before. It was an irrational feeling. She kind of wanted to hurt the other girls for laughing at her Mio. But that's a normal way to feel for your best friend, right?

One simpering individual leaned in to shake Mio awake. But Tokudaiji-sensei shook his head. He had better ideas. He had a brown paper bag from a lecture he'd given last month. He inflated the bag with his breath and held it an inch from Mio's head. Ritsu drew in a sharp breath. She knew this trick. She herself had done it when the two of them were in junior high. Now to have someone else doing it...

Ritsu abruptly stood. Heart pounding fast. Red anger misting her vision. Reached for brown bag.

"Anoo, Tokudai-"

BAM!

With a choking cry, Mio jerked up. Her back hit the chair hard, forcing it backwards. Squeaking and sobbing, the bassist flailed wildly, but her equilibrium was lost. She crashed to the floor at Ritsu's feet.

"Mio!" the drummer cried, squatting to help her lamenting friend. Mio was shaking like a run-out horse, tears streaming from her bloodshot eyes.

"Oh God, I can't," she sniffled, clinging to Ritsu. The shadow on the wall rippled in her vision. She couldn't see anything else. "I just want it to go away and leave me alone..."

Ritsu gently shushed Mio, stroking her feathery soft black hair. Of course she'd seen her childhood friend scared, but never like this. To say that the drummer was livid was the understatement of the year. Happy though she was to be the one to console Mio in her day of distress, all it took was one glance at Tokudaiji standing over them...and Ritsu exploded.

"Kintama! Baka yaro!"

It took the weeping Mio a moment to realize that Ritsu's heated words were not directed at her. She gaped at her friend in horror.

"R-Ritsu! That's a t-teacher! You can't!"

But the drummer careened on in her tirade, oblivious to Mio's tearful protests.

"Yariman! Issunboshi! Benjo mushi!"

"Ritsu!" Mio hissed, more insistent. She raised her hand to deal the swearing girl another goose egg, but Ritsu stayed her fist. The drummer's eyes swam impassionately as she roared, "Aho ketsu!"

A collective gasp rose from the class. Tokudaiji's face twitched furiously as he snarled, "You see me after class."

"Hai, sensei," Ritsu responded scathingly.

The psych teacher's face was beet red. His nostrils flared. He turned to Mio and grunted, "Do you need to see the nurse?"

The bassist hesitated. Then she shook her head, never meeting Tokudaiji's eyes. "No. I'll m-make it through the day..."

"That wasn't an offer, Akiyama-san. Go to the nurse."

"H-hai." Mio clumsily got up, gathered her stuff, and scurried out of the classroom.

Ritsu slowly sat back down, never taking her vehement stare off the teacher. She resisted the urge to smile when she saw him falter under her glare. Then he straightened his posture and traipsed back to his safe little podium.

"Er, where were we...? Mm. Ah, yes. Code-switching...Tainaka-san and I did a lovely if not school inappropriate demonstration of it..."

"You are in so much trouble, Tainaka," a girl behind Ritsu hissed.

The drummer sighed, knowing it was true. But it was a relief, in a way. Ritsu always got in trouble with teachers. This was the first normal thing that had happened all day.

Or was it?

Ritsu waited until everyone had left the classroom before she boldly approached Tokudaiji-sensei. After a day like today, she was ready to accept any punishment he had. Maybe she would be joining Mugi in detention today. Whatever.

The psych teacher stared at his computer monitor. "Tainaka-san, you were way out of line today. To talk to a teacher that way...You shouldn't even speak to a friend that way. By regulations I should have you remanded to the deans' office."

Ritsu exhaled and said quietly, "You were a bit out of line yourself, sensei. Yes, it was rude of Mio to sleep in class. But it wasn't necessary to pop a bag so close to her head. She could've seriously hurt herself falling out of that chair. And by regulations, you would have been fired."

Tokudaiji glared. "You don't talk regulations with me, young lady. Remember that you are just a student." He turned back to his computer and muttered, "What's ridiculous is you're not supposed to get in trouble here. If you'd stayed seated, then Akiyama-san would've been punished and that would've been it."

The drummer shook her head. "After what she's been through, I couldn't let that happen to Mio."

Tokudaiji's brow smoothed. How Tainaka-san had held Akiyama-san...The way she stood up for her...Her using Akiyama-san's name without honorifics...He was kind of getting it. "You and Akiyama-san are...awfully close," he noted with a disapproving frown.

Ritsu smiled and nodded. "We go way back...which is why I was mad when you frightened her." That sounded unconvincing to her, but it seemed to satisfy Tokudaiji-sensei.

"Either way, I would've let you off this time."

It took a moment for the message to register. Then Ritsu's eyebrows shot up high on her forehead. "Huh? Why? I called you a stupid ass and a d*** and a-"

"Yes, I know." The teacher's face plainly said don't make me reconsider. "But you're better than most of my students. You're a wee bit lax with the homework, but at least you're a more active participant."

Unbelievable! Mugi was tardy and got a detention! I cussed him out and got off scot-free! Ritsu shook her head, but accepted that. Ordinarily she would have willingly and blithely gone with that. But seeing Mio in such a disturbed state shook the drummer to her core. Mio always had the ability to do that to Ritsu, and vice versa. But best friends do that. Best friends are core shakers. Right?

"Hai. Arigatougosaimasu." Ristu bowed.

Tokudaiji waved his pen at her, indicating the state of her attire. "And for Christ's sake, wear your uniform properly."

"Hai." The drummer tucked in her shirt and buttoned up her jacket. Woah, this so does not feel right. "Goodbye, Tokudaiji-sensei."

"Have a good weekend, Tainaka-san."

Ritsu darted out of the classroom. She immediately unbuttoned her jacket, pulled her shirt-tails out, and hurried on to health class.

On the way she encountered Yui.

"Ah! Yui! Glad I ran into you!"

"Really?" the guitarist asked faintly, smiling.

"Ah-yup," the drummer nodded. "Band practice is cancelled today."

Yui dropped her goofy grin and her eyes widened. "Ehhh? Why?"

"Mugi's got a detention and Mio's sick."

"Mugi's got a detention?"

"I know. Crazy, right? If you see Azu-nyan, tell her for me, 'kay?"

"M'kay. See you later, Ricchan."

"Ja nai."

Azusa sat in her geometry class, staring at a blank proof without seeing it. This proof demanded to know why triangle A and triangle B were congruent. Three givens. Two rows. Not very difficult at all. However, Azusa was working out a completely different proof in her head, one that wanted to know what kind of game Yui thought they were playing.

ARE we playing a game?

Though she'd always hated math, geometry made Azusa a more meticulous, logical thinker. She was quickly able to figure out the rules of the game.

-Yui-senpai says or does something appalling in a manner of her laziness.
-I react to it.
-Yui-senpai tries to justify her lousy work ethic with something irrelevant.
-I get mad and yell.
-Yui-senpai hugs me.
-I calm down.

Did that mean Yui won everytime? Azusa frowned. That made a fairly one-sided game. But I guess it's not so bad when she hugs me, so it's like winning for me, too...

Wait. Why do I even care? All day long she'd thought about Yui and their game. She snorted. Games were so childish. People played them in middle school, not high school. Girls strung boys along, boys dated girls to raise their social status...

Were they playing that kind of game? A love game?

Azusa wasn't sure. But she was just about ready to forfeit.

RECORDING

Chapter Five

Serendipity

After going to high school for two full years, Mugi was pretty deeply ingrained in her routines. After school she always stopped by the bathroom, gathered her books from her locker, and went directly to Music Room 3. All in that order. The keyboardist was on the third floor when she realized she should be reporting to the fine arts wing. She had less than five minutes. But she doubted Sawako would care about how late she was.

Mugi knew she would not find Sawako in the usual homeroom classroom. The manager more or less taught everything besides band and choir. Mugi wished she knew which class Sawako taught seventh period so she'd know which room to report to. After talking to a drawing media teacher, she learned Sawako taught music technology last.

The MIDI lab was spacious and cold. To the left there was an overhead projector screen. The projector was bolted to the ceiling. Rows of keyboards hooked up to computers took the center of the room. Casio, Korg, Yamaha, Moog. All eighty-eight keys. All computers opened to the Noteworthy digital track recorder.

On the farthest end of the room was a desk behind which sat Sawako. Mugi giggled; her teacher was playing a videogame on her DS.

"Gah! Damn it, I forgot about Abra's Synchronize ability! Don't worry, Shroomish, I have a Full Heal for you!"

Sawako's tongue slipped out of the corner of her mouth. Her DS shook as she pressed the buttons more furiously.

"Okay, this'll do. Now I'll use a Premier Ball and…No! No! Don't teleport! If you teleport I'll…I'll…Ugh," she sighed, tipping her head back. "Lost it. But Hoenn is chock-full of Abra…Oh! Hi, Mugi-chan." Sawako sheepishly closed her DS and sat up straight.

"Hi, Sawa-chan," Mugi grinned. She tilted her head at the console in her teacher's hands. "Wouldn't it be more logical to use a dark-type Pokémon against Abra?"

"Hai. But I'm trying to catch Abra, not make it faint. The little bastards keep teleporting, though."

"You're in Granite Cave, ne?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Have you caught a Nosepass yet? Have it use Block, and then Abra won't be able to teleport."

Sawako blinked. "That's a great idea," she beamed. She started to open her DS, paused thoughtfully, then set it aside. She consulted the detention list on her computer. The computer was hooked up to the projector and Tsumugi winced as her ID number appeared on the screen.

"I gotta say, Mugi-chan," the sensei sighed, "I was kinda pissed when I saw a number on my detention list. For me, that means I can't have tea with you and Ritsu and everybody. Then I clicked the number, expecting a first year teeny bopper, but…" As if her words triggered the action, Sawako clicked the blue underlined number. Mugi's horrible ID photo (the keyboardist thought it was horrible, anyway) popped up in a separate window.

"I'm surprised," Sawako claimed.

"So was everybody else," Mugi muttered. She knew her father would blow a capillary over this one.

"What did you do?"

"I was late," the blonde girl scowled.

"Ah." The teacher nodded. "Happens to the best of us." She grinned. "How would you like to skip detention and head on up to Music Room 3?"

Mugi blinked. Then her bushy eyebrows shot up in alarm. "You can't do that!"

Sawako sighed and sat back in her computer chair. "True. I am obligated to make you do something…" After the Tabasco sauce punch bowl incident at the teachers' New Year's party, she was skating on thin ice with the Headmistress. Best not to push it.

Suddenly a mischievous smile broke across her face. Her brown eyes twinkled. "Stand on your head," she ordered.

Mugi dropped her hands down to her sides. She cocked her head, not totally understanding this if at all. She was expecting to write a sentence five hundred times. But standing on my head…What in the name of God is that? She looked down, gasped, and a pink blush rose to her face. She was aware of the skirt she was wearing.

The keyboardist giggled excitedly. I can't believe Sawa-chan really wants to see my panties. But I have a terrible sense of balance…Then she got an idea. She strolled over to the wall closest to Sawako. With some help from the teacher, Mugi propped herself against the wall. There was a temporary shock as the cold wall touched her bare thighs, but the blonde girl wanted to do this. She wanted to make Sawako aware of her feelings and desires.

"Sakura," the teacher nodded. "Classy with a touch of moé. I approve."

"I'm glad." Mugi really was, but her voice was husky with effort.

Sawako tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I gotta make this good…Um, what foreign language class are you enrolled in?"

"French III."

"Recite the days of the week."

"Lundi, mardi, mercredi, jeudi, vendredi, samedi, et dimanche." Something about showing Sawako her panties and speaking French titillated the keyboardist. Mugi could feel a sultry heat building up in her inner thighs. If Mother and Father knew I was thinking such things…

"Recite the French alphabet backwards."

"Zed, i grêcke, eeks, doublè vé…"

Once the alphabet was recited to Sawako's satisfaction, she let the keyboardist stand back up. "Congratulations, Kotobuki-san, your body as a high tolerance for alcohol. It'll come in handy at your concert."

"Arigatougosaimasu." Mugi bowed. "But, um…Why does standing on my head and speaking French mean I keep alcohol well?"

Sawako shrugged. "I dunno. Apparently that's what the health teachers are teaching everyone." She logged off her computer and stood. "C'mon, Mugi-chan. Let's go upstairs for tea."

Mugi straightened her jacket and looked up in surprise. "That was it?"

"Yep."

"No one thousand sentences? Twenty thousand word essay explaining why I got a detention?"

Sawako grinned. "Wow, you sure like being punished. Maybe I'll think of something better next time."

Better than showing her my panties? A shudder rippled through the keyboardist. She was considering being tardy again on Monday, just to have a detention with Sawako again. But that would be shallow and foolish, wouldn't it?

The teacher took Mugi's arm and pulled her toward the door. "Coming?"

The blonde snapped out of her trance with another shudder. She nodded dumbly and let Sawako pull her all the way to the third floor. She thought about what Sawa had said about her panties. I approve. But was Sawako understating that? Was she as stimulated to see Mugi's panties as Mugi was to show them to her? The keyboardist wished she could've seen Sawako's face when she said that.

"Hello, what's this?" the teacher murmured, pulling a taped piece of paper from the door. It read: Sorry, guys, but practice is cancelled today. We'll meet again on Monday and work extra hard. Ciao! Ritsu. Mugi chuckled because the drummer had drawn the Kanji for her name as a bunch of drum sticks and cymbals criss-crossing one another.

Mugi had seen Ritsu comfort the shaken Mio in psych today. She knew what it was. Without a doubt, Ritsu would probably visit Mio, perhaps take care of her, and then…

"Ehh? What are you doing, Sawa-chan?"

The teacher pushed the double doors open and entered. "We don't need the rest of them to have our tea, ne?"

"I guess not," Mugi mumbled, ambling in.

Whistling to himself, Tokudaiji-sensei made his way through the fine arts wing. He was a tall, skinny man with large hands, feet, and head. There was nothing soft or subtle about the psych teacher's face. All his features were sharp, from his strong jawline to his proud eagle nose. He was in his mid-thirties.

He'd just been on the phone. He had tried to call Akiyama-san's parents, but no one answered the phone. So Tokudaiji-sensei left a message on their voicemail explaining what had happened in psych today, wishing Akiyama-san to get well soon, and asking her parents to call back to discuss…important matters, as he'd so eloquently phrased it. A similar message was delivered on the Tainakas' voicemail.

He hadn't gotten his Master's in psychology from Tokyo University for naught. He knew what Tainaka-san and Akiyama-san's behavior in class today meant. He just wanted to know if their parents knew.

Tokudaiji halted in front of the MIDI lab door. Kotobuki-san would be serving her detention with Sawako-san here. Remembering the Tabasco sauce punchbowl incident, he peeked inside to make sure Sawako-san was doing what she was supposed to. Of course not, he thought with a snort. The MIDI lab was empty. He selected a key from his staff member's lanyard, unlocked the door, and entered.

Dinner at the Tainaka residence was, as usual, a cheerful affair. Mrs. Tainaka, having taken an interest in French cooking recently, prepared boeuf burgenion. It had taken a lot of meticulous preparation from last night to today. The warm, savory aromas had tantalized the family long enough. Satoshi, Ritsu's little brother, devoured the beef, but avoided the pearl onions. Ritsu, on the other hand, shoveled the whole nourriture down indiscriminantly - even the carrots, which she normally avoided.

"You trying to set a world record, oneechan?" Satoshi inquired, sweat-dropping.

"Sumimasen," Ritsu apologized, wiping gravy from her chin. "But I promised Mio I'd be at her house after dinner."

Mrs. Tainaka checked the clock. "Well, take your time. You don't want to make yourself sick."

"I won't." But a formidible hiccup racked Ritsu's body, sending a sharp pain up her upper back. She set her fork down and slowly sipped some water.

"So, Ritsu," Mr. Tainaka sighed. "Got a call from your psychology teacher today."

The drummer froze over her plate. Uh-oh.

Her father sat back and interlaced his fingers on the back of his head. He asked dryly, "Anything you care to tell me about?"

Ritsu chewed her dinner slowly, considering several answers. She could just tell the truth. Or she could play dumb. But her father usually had a keen nose for bullshit.

Mr. Tainaka didn't wait for her to respond. He, like his daughter, was fast-paced and impatient. He never liked other people to set the tempo of a conversation.

"He said you swore at him in class today. You know that's unacceptable."

Ritsu opened her mouth, then wisely closed it. Her father wouldn't tolerate excuses.

"He also said he wanted to talk to us." Mr. Tainaka lowered his unshaven chin. "Is your grade slipping again?"

"No." Not that she knew of, anyway.

"I think we're about due for a parent-teacher conference," Mrs. Tainaka smiled. Once every year they stopped in to catch up on Ritsu's progress. Clearly, though, neither one of them was happy about this, least of all Mr. Tainaka, for he had to hear that message on his voicemail. Dinner had suddenly become a sullen affair. This was much to Satoshi's dismay, because he had nothing to do with this.

Afterward Ritsu immediately popped up to hastily clean her plate and go to Mio's. After the little scrape with her parents, though, she felt guilty for eating and running.

"There will be repercussions, Ritsu," her father growled, cleaning the stove. "Tomorrow I'm having you...serve...some sort of punishment."

"Hai," she sighed, sluicing her plate.

"You're too old for this."

The drummer just nodded, not knowing what to say to that. She offered to help him with the cleaning, but he declined gruffly. With a sigh, she bounded up the stairs to her room. She filled her bag with a change of clothes and other stuff. She bade her family adieu, then ran out the door.

Even though Mio lived less than a block away, Ritsu charged down the street at a breakneck speed. She needed to see the bassist. Badly. Ritsu had never acted so recklessly just to see someone. Was that weird? The scary thing was, it felt perfectly natural to the drummer.

Maybe it's just because she was sick today and I worried about her. Yeah, that was it. But at the same time, it didn't sound right.

Ritsu bounded on up to the door and rang the bell. She was impatient for someone to answer it. Still full of energy, she shook out her hands to keep the blood flowing. It was freezing, Ritsu could tell by her vaporized breath, but she didn't feel the least bit cold.

Finally, finally the sound of a latch being undone, and Mr. Akiyama opened the door.

"Hey, Ritsu," he greeted, giving her a soft, but genuine smile. He stepped aside to let her in.

When she was little Ritsu remembered Mr. Akiyama being very tall and a little paunchy, with feathery, thin jet-black hair and dark gray eyes. No longer being young, though, he'd grown thin - even his face was more sallow - and his raven-colored hair faded to silvery-white. Even in primary school Ritsu imagined Mr. Akiyama had been a shy, quiet boy for he was a shy, quiet man. Even at the age of nine she thought, The apple clearly doesn't fall far from the tree.

"It's funny. I was just done checking my voicemail," he commented. "I'd gotten a call from Tokudaiji-san about you and Mio."

Here we go again. Ritsu rolled her eyes.

Mr. Akiyama smiled wryly at the drummer's annoyed expression.

"Nothing really happened," she sighed. She then proceeded to tell him about psych class today. She kept her story short out of need to see Mio. She wondered how many times she'd have to tell this story.

"By the sound of his message, the issue seemed to be resolved." Mr. Akiyama shruged. "Heaven knows why he had to call. He said he wanted to speak with me."

"Yeah, he wanted to speak with my parents, too." Her limbs buzzed with energy. She longed for her drum sticks. Flicking her wrists, she inched toward the staircase. "May I see Mio?"

"Of course."

She needed no second bidding. She tore up the stairs. Midway through, though, she abruptly halted. Her ears hurt and she was finding it difficult to breathe.

"Something wrong?" Mr. Akiyama queried from the bottom of the stairs.

Ritsu shook her head slowly in puzzlement. "I just felt the air pressure drop..." She swallowed hard and her inner ears popped...and then she heard it. Breathing. Not her breathing, for it had a slower respiration pattern. The weirdest part was that it had that deep, muted internal sound. Ritsu wondered if this was what it was like to be a baby in the womb.

She heard a deep, slow sigh. THen the pressure she felt inside gradually melted away, starting at her head and ending at her feet. The breathing disappeared.

She shivered, contemplating whether she'd imagined that, then continued upstairs.

After some thought, Mugi decided intimate would be the best way to describe today's tea time. True, it wasn't as boisterous without the others around. But it certainly wasn't dull. A dull moment with Sawako was about as rare as a blue moon. With fall plodding ever onwards, dusk came sooner. The setting sun's rays gave everything in Music Room 3 a dusty, orange glow. It set Mugi's amber locks alight and dyed Sawako's eyes the color of honey.

"That Paranormal Activity movie sounds pretty great," said the teacher. "A friend of mine saw it last weekend and she wants to see it again with me. So that's what I'm doing this weekend."

"Sounds fun," Mugi beamed. "I heard about it from Ritsu-chan." She paused to sip some of her green tea. "She said, 'It was so real! There's no way it could be fake! I swear to God!'"

"My friend said the same thing. That probably means it's totally fake." Sawako sighed and toyed with her now empty cup. "It sounds like the sort of thing I should be doing with a man, I know. But all the men I meet are either married, homosexual, or have a mommy complex."

"How do you meet these men?" the keyboardist asked.

"Mostly at bars. I met one guy on the train to Harajuku. But he was on parole for something or other, so that was no good...Then there was that one guy who was a lead guitarist in his own band."

Tsumugi's face brightened. "Aww, that sounds like a lovely match."

"We were for a while." Sawako removed her glasses and ran a hand over her face. "I was fresh out of college and substitute teaching here. He was unemployed and lived with his parents. When I got a permanent job here, he broke up with me." She swung her glasses back and forth gently. The motion hypnotized Mugi. "I guess...my success gave him a complex. He didn't want to be...poor...when I was making money. He didn't want to live off my salary."

The blonde girl flinched. Talking about money always made her uncomfortable. The situation Sawako was describing was one Mugi had been in numerous times, and her father once before her...

The teacher donned her glasses. Her topaz eyes were sad, but appreciative. "For now, you should be happy. High schoolers never have to worry about getting hitched."

"Oh, I do. My father makes sure of it." Mugi laughed humorlessly. "If ever I slip up - even a little - with etiquette he goes, 'Oi! Tsumugi!'" She'd lowered her voice to impersonate Mr. Kotobuki. "'If you act that way no one will marry you!' I'm eighteen and he treats me like I'm thirty or something."

Sawako nodded. "And your mother? What does she make of this?"

Mugi's face pinched slightly. "When I see her, she tells me I should ignore my father's...BS...and not accept his charity." Her mother had, of course, used a stronger word, but Mugi wasn't given much to swearing.

"When you see her?" the teacher blinked.

The keyboardist's face pinched even more. She seemed to be holding her breath. The sunlight rippled in her teacup which Mugi clutched with unsteady hands. After what seemed like hours she finally exhaled in a low, rushed whisper, "Myparentsaredivorced."

Well, there it was.

Mugi slowly looked up. There was intensity in her blue eyes, hoping that Sawako could say something that mattered in this situation. The teacher said nothing.

Whenever Mugi told people about her parents' divorce a wide gap seemed to form between them. This was not so with her and Sawako. In fact, the gap between them seemed to be closing. Sawako leaned in and gently brushed her hand along Mugi's cheek. The keyboardist felt cold wetness spread thinly with the teacher's hand. She was crying.

Embarrassed, she looked away. She produced a handkerchief from her jacket pocket and dabbed her eyes. "Oh, this is mortifying. I don't cry very often." But Sawako could tell that she did.

Mugi sat up and tried to steady her breathing, but it was all in vain. Though her eyes were closed, large miserable tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks and dripped from her chin. Her shuddery sigh turned into a ragged sob. Against all etiquette rules her father had encoded within her, Mugi leaned her elbows on the table. She cried as a child would, with her palms over her eyes. She heard the chair next to her scrape, felt Sawako's hand on her shoulder.

"It's not fair," the keyboardist hiccuped. "They never loved each other, nor could they build a life together. Wasn't that obvious? She was drunk and he was rich and now I have to live with it. My father's happy. My mother's happy. But what about me?"

She sobbed for a few more minutes into her hanky. Once she'd calmed down Sawako offered, "I know this sounds outdated, but a lot of what a relationship has to do with is money."

"Well, that's daft," Mugi sniffled, sitting up. She looked at her teacher, her eyes swimming. "Like your guitarist boyfriend. Why should he leave you just because he's slower to make his living than you are? Why does that matter more than the funny, smart, beautiful person you are? Sawa-chan?"

Sawako's cheeks pinkened.

"Either way..." Mugi smiled at her teacher. "...I believe that matters more. I believe it here and now. I think you're..." She took a deep breath, for courage, and finished her sentence: "...the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. That matters a lot more than your caste."

"Oh, Tsumugi..." Sawako's face softened considerably. There is so much more to her, and she can see so much more in me.

The gap between them was closing again. Within seconds, it was nonexistent. Sawako kissed Mugi on the cheek.

The night time hours seemed long and endless in autumn. Ritsu could hardly believe it was only ten o'clock when she and Mio got bored with their various games. The drummer had learned that her best friend actually wasn't sick, that all she had needed was a nap and she felt better. Nonetheless, Mio's energy burned low at this point and she stretched out on the carpet floor. Ritsu, ever energetic, tapped random things with her knuckles. That was the highest point of being a drummer - the world is your instrument.

Again, Ritsu was struck by this odd feeling. That feeling of confusion and...it seemed like she had the desire to define something. Define what, though? And why am I feeling this way?

She sighed, sat with her back against the wall, and let her eyes roam across the room. Nostalgia stoked her heart deep inside. Right now Mio's room was painted periwinkle. Right now her bed had a modest brown-and-green quilt on it. Right now its only furniture and accessories were the tall oak-wood bookcase crammed with various literary masterpieces, the six-drawer chest of drawers, and the wicker arm chair with the cream cushion. But Ritsu remembered this room from their younger days. Back then Mio's room boasted a lot more color and flair. The chest of drawers was lower, and painted yellow and blue. Ritsu grinned, remembering how the paint had chipped over time; that had driven Mio crazy. The bedspread was frillier, more girlish. Basically the only relic left from their childhood was a framed faded polaroid of them when they were nine. Or were they ten? Maybe they were ten.

She looked at Mio appreciatively, who looked about ready to drift off. Her eyes were glazed and her cheek was mashed up in the carpet. She looked peaceful. It suddenly struck Ritsu that she rarely saw Mio look peaceful. Especially these days.

She really is the bestest friend I ever had. Ritsu felt lame using the word 'bestest,' but it seemed like an understatement just to call Mio her best friend. They'd known each other for over ten years (granted, during three of those ten years Ritsu constantly harrassed Mio and the raven-haired girl had tried to avoid her). They had to be more than just that.

Maybe that's what I have to define right now. I have to define Mio.

What comes after friendship, though? It felt like there should be something more. More than what we have? How could that happen? They had their private jokes, sideways glances, and they finished each other's sentences. When they went to the movies Mio would bang her foot against Ritsu's leg during the funny or scary parts, but the drummer hardly noticed the bruise until a few days later. When Ritsu would show Mio something on a computer, Mio would rest her chin on the drummer's shoulder and her teeth would click whenever Ritsu turned around to explain something. How do you beat that?

Awkwardly enough, Ritsu thought of her parents. They had been buddy-buddy since high school, and she and Masao could never get enough of their funny anecdotes. But...her parents were more than best friends. They had fallen in love, weathered the temporary separation during college, going on only their letters, and finally got married.

Maybe Mio and I are like my parents.

Ritsu pushed that thought away warily. That couldn't be. Sure, her mother and father had been best friends. But this was a boy and a girl she was thinking about, not two girls. Could she and Mio do that...? Do I want us to do that?

Maybe this is as far as I'll ever get with Mio.

Well, that was the most logical thought Ritsu had had all night concerning Mio. But it still didn't seem right.

Suddenly, Mio's eyes snapped open wide and she sat up. Her slate eyes darted anxiously from her door to her friend.

"I think I can hear the...uhh, Ritsu? Why are you smiling like that?"

Was I smiling? It seemed only natural to her. Did Mio make her smile that way?

"No reason. What's wrong?" With an effort, Ritsu dropped her grin and leaned forward.

Mio's apprehension was almost tangible. Fidgeting warily, she gazed at her bedroom door. "I think I can hear that ghost in the stairs."

Ritsu had laughed when she first heard about the ghost. But, remembering the weird drop in pressure as she'd gone up the stairs, she decided maybe her...best friend (?) was on to something.

Ritsu was on to something as well.

Maybe I love her.

The thought was so outrageous she exploded into a fit of nervous laughter. It sickened the drummer how perfectly that piece fit. It was disturbing how satisfied she was by this answer. Suddenly it seemed she could define the raven-haired girl in front of her, who had been in front of her for over half her life. Akiyama Mio was the person she loved.

Mio glared. "Th-this isn't funny, Ritsu! Can't you h-hear it in the stairs?"

Ritsu strained to hear the ghost's footsteps over the clamor of her own racing thoughts. But one look at Mio's angry/frightened face sent her into another bout of giggles. She actually rolled on the floor, she was laughing so hard. This so is not right! I can't believe I'm in love with Mio, of all people!

"Come on!" Mio pleaded desperately, but that just made Ritsu laugh harder. "You're insane," she sighed, hopping into her bed and pulling the covers over her face. "But I guess I feel relieved to have you with me right now. Thanks, Ritsu."

"Heeheeheeheehee! N-no problem, Mio! Hahahahahaha!" With a sigh, Ritsu sat back up. She grabbed Mio's flashlight from a shelf on her book case. "C'mon, Mio. Let's check out this ghost! I wanna see it for myself!"

Rather than laugh, Ritsu felt a warm bubbley feeling in her chest as Mio peeked over the covers in both interest and fear.

RECORDING

Chapter Six

Symphony in B Minor

A lot less hesitantly than Mio had done the night before, Ritsu darted out into the hall. The bassist lingered by her bedroom door, her gray eyes wide and bright with fear. Terror crept into Mio's throat as she saw her childhood friend fade into the blackness. If the ghost was dangerous, Ritsu could get seriously hurt. Worse, she could die. And what am I doing? Cowering by the door, letting my friend get killed! Before her doubts could further glue her to the door, Mio tore out into the hall after Ritsu.

If it was at all possible, the darkness seemed even more oppressive that night. It hung over Mio like a heavy blanket, muting her shallow breathing. She wished she had her flashlight. If Ritsu has it, surely I would be able to see it, right? Maybe the bassist was going in the wrong direction. Or maybe...the ghost had silently and effortlessly snuffed out Ritsu's life and the flashlight with it.

Mio's hand faltered on the banister. That couldn't happen, could it? Maybe I'm next. A fuzzy chill prickled her neck. Horrified, she turned on the staircase to retreat to her room...

She found herself face to face with a glowing countenance. The sinister face split into a wild grin. A low hiss swirled within the stairwell: "Mioooooooo."

"EEEEEEEE!" The raven-haired girl tried to twist around on the stairs. She could hear nothing but the volcanic roar of her heart. The heel of her foot missed the edge of the stair, a moment of stillness, and she was falling. The ghostly face gaped in shock. Mio felt someone seize her wrist, yank her back up, the face fall below her, something hit her ankle. Two identical cries of dismay rang in the stairway as the bassist and the ghost (?) tumbled a couple stairs. It was the most mindless, hectic madness she had ever experienced. Her elbow hit the wall, and they were done tumbling. She felt a small figure wriggling underneath her, heard a voice: "Agh, when did Mio get so heavy?"

"Ritsu!" Mio exclaimed, her voice a confusing mix of relief and anger.

"None other." Suddenly her friend's heavily shadowed face appeared inches from Mio's. It struck the bassist that the light was coming from her flashlight. "You ever consider joining choir, Mio? You've got the dynamic range for it."

BOP!

And now the flashlight was illuminating a handsome lump.

"Don't ever do that again!" Mio's voice was thick with emotion. "I was so scared!"

"Aww, Mio worried about me," Ritsu giggled, attempting to sit up.

"Well...yeah." Blushing, the raven-haired girl rolled off her friend. She sat on the stair, holding her forehead in her hands. "I thought something bad had happened to you."

She felt Ritsu's hand on her right shoulder, rubbing and squeezing. "I'm sorry for worrying you."

What's with the affectionate voice? She's talking to me like I'm a boy or something. Thinking this was another one of Ritsu's jokes, she glared at the drummer. Mio was surprised to find Ritsu with a totally serious face. The bassist shuddered and looked away, her cheeks warm. "Don't mention it..."

Ritsu swung the flashlight around the stairwell, her circle of light illuminating the walls. The drummer made one last round before concluding, "Your shadow isn't here, Mio."

"It was here before..."

"Oh, I don't doubt that. I heard it earlier, saying your name."

Mio looked at Ritsu sharply. "I thought that was you."

The drummer's brow furrowed and she shook her head.

Mio's eyes drifted warily about the stairwell. She bit her lip and huddled up against Ritsu. "L-let's get outta here, okay?"

Startled by the close contact, Ritsu stuttered, "Y-yeah. S-sure." She added, more confidently, "This experience calls for research! I'm hitting up the library this weekend!"

The bassist managed a watery smile. "You don't do research, Ritsu."

The drummer grinned as she helped Mio up. "I'm willing to do it for you."

As soon as Mugi opened her eyes that chilly Saturday morning the memory of Sawako's kiss crashed down on her. Shuddering, she pulled the covers over her head. The torrent of raw emotions she'd felt yesterday afternoon were trickling back into her. Between the retelling of her parents' divorce and the kiss, yesterday was too real. Too much life had happened yesterday.

Groaning, she curled up on her side, hoping she could just turn herself into a morphing ball and disappear. She wished today wasn't Saturday. She wished tomorrow wasn't Sunday. She needed it to be Monday. She needed to see Sawako again. The keyboardist had so many things she wanted to say to her teacher. She might even kiss me again. Another shudder undulated through her.

Reluctantly, she pushed and kicked the covers away. Squinting, she could make out blanc frost criss-crossed on the window panes. It was freezing out there, but it was warm in here. Mugi never experienced the headache of a stiff window admitting cold air in her room. Or the furnace breaking down. Or lousy insulation. Her father's money made sure of that. His money could hold together a mansion, but it could not hold together a family.

Mugi squeaked in surprise when she felt a tear slide swiftly down her cheek. She let the salty liquid evaporate, leaving a crust on her skin. It wasn't really the divorce itself that saddened her, but the aftermath.

She stiffly crossed her immense bedroom to look at herself in her full-length mirror. She didn't look like Tsumugi. Her face was puffy, as if she'd overdosed on meds and this was the ghastly side effect. Her hair frizzed out wildly. Her loose-fitting night shirt sagged over her frame, exposing one pale shoulder. One of her pant legs had somehow rolled up in her sleep. Even her trademark eyebrows were in a state.

What would Sawa-chan say if she could see me now?

Mugi smiled, causing the dried tear to crackle on her face. She could just imagine Sawako leaning back casually in the keyboardist's plush armchair with a hot cup of tea in her hands. The teacher would wink at Mugi over her glasses and grin, You look so classy this early in the morn'.

Listen. I had a rough day yesterday, Tsumugi retorted.

Yawning, she reeled over to a set of blue painted double doors near her bed. She pushed them open and flicked the light switch. Immediately her walk-in closet was illuminated. It was a giant winding room with white walls, several mirrors, anjd racks upon racks of clothing and shoes. In contrast to the electric white walls the clothing racks were a brilliant rainbow of Chanel, Eve Yves, and Balmain. The cheapest outfit in the lot was a white ruffled blouse and a long black skirt. Those Mugi bought from GAP when she was twelve for a recital. She never got to wear them; her parents didn't allow it.

Mugi always tended to dress according to her mood. Today cried for a white button-down shirt, V-neck grey sweater, and black slacks. She selected the said items and darted down the hall to the nearest bathroom - one out of twenty in the immense Kotobuki mansion.

The bathroom was a vision in marble, from the tiled floors to the glittering white walls. On the farthest end of the enormous room was a shower stall big enough for a donkey. Directly across from that was the gigantic tub; any common person or guest would be pardoned for mistaking it for a jacuzzi. Near the jacuzzi-esque bathtub was the toilet that flushed automatically. Near that were the two mirrors and huge vanity with twin his-and-hers sinks. This was an extravagent relic from her parents' happy days. A green shag mat graced the center of the room.

Mugi shut the door and, sighing, leaned against it. With a family of three people, what did her father need with twenty bathrooms? And with her mother gone, the numerous bathrooms seemed even more excessive than before.

She grimaced at the gold carving of a beagle next to the bathtub. The beagle crouched on its hind legs, balancing a soap dish in its paws. It was one of her father's impulse purchases which she and her mother questioned to this day. Mugi didn't much relish bathing with a metallic dog watching her.

As soon as she stepped out of the bathroom, clean and kempt and smelling like her strawberry-scented shampoo, she was met by one of her butlers.

"Ohayogosaimasu, ojou-sama," he greeted her.

"Ohayo, James-san," she returned with a smile. She was about to head down the ceramic stairs when he stopped her.

"Your father wishes to speak with you. He is in the billiard room."

Mugi suppressed a groan and thanked the butler graciously. Apparently Tokudaiji-sensei called her father to tell him about her detention. Mr. Kotobuki had been so furious that he couldn't even talk to her. He just sent her straight to bed.

She traipsed all the way down to the first floor. She passed the study, conservatory, and maybe seven bathrooms before she arrived at the cherry maple doors of the billiard room. She hesitantly grasped the knocker, carved and fashioned into the likeness of an eagle. She gave it three lagatto knocks, the booming reverberations making her uneasy. Then, her father's quiet, raspy voice: "Come in."

The blonde girl cranked the knob and pushed one of the heavy doors open. She hesitantly poked her head inside. The billiard room was dark, the only light coming through the blinds on the windows. It absolutely reeked of masculinity - five pool tables, a shotgun mounted over a hearth, several game trophies, and the bearskin rug. Mugi knew very well that her father was no hunter, and she found such accessories ridiculous.

On the farthest end of the room Mr. Kotobuki sat in an overstuffed armchair drinking a martini. Only a divorced man would start his drinking at ten o'clock in the morning. He was of medium height and medium build with ears that stuck out a little. He wore a red lounge robe and black slippers. Once he saw his daughter enter, his thick white eyebrows furrowed over his piercing ice-blue eyes.

"Tsumugi," he said at length. He curled his hand, beckoning her. "Come here."

Quickly and obediently, Mugi scurried over to Mr. Kotobuki. She held her breath, bracing herself for a lecture. Mr. Kotobuki's lengthy speeches had gone down in legend.

"I'm not angry, Tsumugi. I'm disappointed." He paused to drain the rest of his martini glass. "Even though that detention was over something petty like tardiness, that mark on your record is irreversible. Your choices of university are limited now, thanks to that tardy."

So? You could buy me in anyway. But Mugi wisely held her silence.

Mr. Kotobuki ran a delicate hand through his wispy white hair. "To make matters worse, you didn't even attend that detention, Tsumugi. You were to report to your homeroom teacher and you didn't. What were you doing?"

Mugi's pupils contracted as yesterday replayed itself. Sawako running her hand across her face, telling her about her guitarist ex-boyfriend. Sawako right next to her, brushing the tears off Mugi's face. Sawako's hand on Mugi's knee, her lips pressed against her cheek. If that gets out Sawa-chan will be fired for sure. I could get in trouble, too. The stark danger of their situation hit the keyboardist like a ton of lead. She could tell by her father's stony expression that he wouldn't let this go without an answer. She'd have to think of a lie, and fast.

"I was in Music Room 3."

Well, maybe not so fast.

Mr. Kotobuki arced a bushy eyebrow. "And what were you doing in Music Room 3?"

Mugi's jaw tensed. Her mind was racing in tandem with her heart. Think, think! What could I be doing there that would cover her kiss and still be a decent alternative to detention? "Rehearsing piano music," she blurted.

Mr. Kotobuki's eyebrows flattened. "Rehearsing piano music...?"

She bobbed her head up and down. "With Yamanaka-sensei. She teaches piano class, you know." Her cheek fluttered.

"And what did you rehearse?"

"Minuet...?" She had no idea why she said that.

The old man seemed confused. He raised his martini glass to his thin, scornful lips, then remembered it was empty. He settled for nibbling the olives. "You mastered Minuet when you were six years old. What possessed you to rehearse that?"

"Um, nostalgia?" I'm sounding stupider by the minute.

Her father pursed his lips as he dropped the toothpick in the glass. He didn't seem convinced. "Well, anyways, come Monday you will serve some punishment at school."

Just as long as I can see Sawa-chan again.

"Speaking of piano music...yesterday, while you were not serving your detention, I entered you into the Tokyo Prefecture Solo and Ensemble Contest. I also picked a piece for you."

Mugi smiled a genuine smile. She loved solo contests. "That's great. What am I playing?"

Mr. Kotobuki rang for a butler. Soon a tall, skinny man with waspish features was bustling into the billiard room.

"What may I do for you, Kotobuki-sama?"

"You may bring me that piano piece I purchased yesterday for Tsumugi..." He paused and frowningly considered his empty glass. "...and another martini."

The butler set the glass on his tray. "It will be done immediately."

"Thank you, Sebastian-san."

Momentarily, he had returned to the billiard room with the score and the drink. He set the two items before Mr. Kotobuki, bowed, and strode out. The old man sipped his martini, letting the gin burn his mouth and throat pleasantly. Then he grabbed the music and passed it to his daughter. "I know how much you like Bach."

"I do." Mugi raised her eyebrows happily. She considered the score's cover page. "Badinerie, eh?"

"Only the second movement." He sheepishly itched his mustache. "The whole symphony would take all day to perform. Plus, there's no way you'd learn it in two weeks."

Mugi looked up sharply. "Two weeks?"

"Hai. The contest is on November 6th." He cocked his head. "Did you have something planned for November 6th?"

"No." She knew how her father felt about light music. He would not give an inch for that concert. I'll probably have to pull some strings...She opened the score to its first page and gasped. "Oh, my..."

Mr. Kotobuki swallowed a gulp of his drink. "Challenging, ne?"

"So desu ne..." Challenging was an understatement. Accidentals galore, key and time signature changes, melodies that spontaneously leapt up and down the staff...and the tempo! One beat equals one hundred sixty. Glissandoes, trills, and sixteenth and thirty-second notes ruled the pages.

Her father smiled. "You're an excellent pianist. I know you can learn this."

In two weeks? The very thought caused a pit of worry to form in her stomach. "I should start learning this now. Am I excused?"

"You most certainly are."

"Thank you."

It was a long trek from the billiard room in the west end of the mansion to the hall in the southeast end. Mugi had no idea where the stereotypical rich person - fat and sedentary - came from. It was impossible to be inactive in this mansion.

The hall was considerably brighter than the billiard room, illuminated by several chandeliers and tall windows. This was where small social events were held. The room was carpeted, the walls painted red with wood paneling on the bottom halves. There was an immense circle of armchairs, couches, and loveseats surrounding a coffee table. The entertainment center on the farthest wall featured a huge plasma screen TV, cable box, DVD player, and advanced stereo system. Potted plants took the corners, including the one where the grand piano stood.

Mugi sighed and made her way to the piano. The billiard room and the hall were two more prime examples of how extravagent her father was. What did he need the game trophies for if he didn't hunt? Self-assurance or something? Why did he have five pool tables? Even if he were to make more friends that would still be excessive. The same problem existed for the lush hall. Mr. Kotobuki had the social life of a hermit.

Right after her parents' divorce Mugi felt obligated to keep her father company. But he made carrying a conversation so difficult.

She lifted the lid covering the keys and set the score in front of her. She leaned forward, studying the treble part. Mastering the treble part was always the greatest trial. Mugi always tackled that part first and the bass part usually just came naturally to her. She set her metrenome, aptly named Dr. Beat, to the one hundred sixty tempo. Her heart sank as it mercilessly plinked out the rapid tempo. Plinkplinkplinkplink. It made her a little dizzy. She reset Dr. Beat to plink out sixteenth notes to that tempo. The flawless and clear subdivision was staggering. How am I going to learn this in two weeks?

A fatal, claustrophobic feeling scratched its way behind her throat. For most of the day Mugi found herself just staring at the infinite expanse of ivory and ebony keys. Dr. Beat continued to subdivide at a rhythm and tempo that matched her racing heart.

Tsumugi wasn't the only one experiencing a fatal, claustrophobic feeling.

Ever since she was tiny, Azusa had harbored a secret and irrational fear of the dentist. The guitarist had quite the dental history to back up that fear. When she was five one of her teeth had rotted and had to be pulled. She couldn't remember the pain, but she vividly recalled the terror she felt as the doctor restrained her and forced the anesthetic mask over her face. A couple years later she had a cavity so bad it hurt to drink water. Looking back on those experiences, Azusa just thanked God she never had braces.

Presently she had a sea green paper thing under her chin and a blinding light in her brown eyes.

"Is the light too bright?" Sally, the hygienist, inquired.

Squinting, Azusa nodded. Sally readjusted the light, instructed her patient to open wide, and got to work.

Azusa's breathing remained level as Sally checked out her teeth with the little mirror. The hygienist nodded approvingly. Then her scraper came into play. That was when Azusa's breathing snagged in her chest and her back and arms tensed. Sally withdrew her tools and stared curiously at the guitarist. Azusa could see the grin through her mask.

"Come on. I haven't even done anything yet and you're already scared?"

Azusa thought to snap a retort, but reconsidered. She merely shrugged. Shaking her head, Sally set about aggressively tapping the second year's teeth with her scraper. The hygienist was reckless and clumsy with the tool, which as a result sometimes stabbed Azusa's gums and tongue. The tongue-stabs hurt the worst. Azusa squeaked, earning herself another jeer from Sally.

"Seriously, Azusa-san. How old are you?"

"Arhahh shehee."

"I beg your pardon?" Sally posed the question as if Azusa were a drooling idiot, not a girl with someone's hands in her mouth. Nonetheless, the hygienist withdrew her tools.

"Almost seventeen."

"And you're scared of the dentist? Sheesh." Before Azusa could defend herself Sally thrust the tools back in her mouth.

This experience is really treading Mio-senpai's turf. If the dentist freaked Azusa out, she could only imagine the bassist's reaction. She'd probably have a heart attack. The guitarist giggled, the sound coming out as a series of stacatto gasps. Sally chided her, then went back to work.

How would Yui-senpai handle this?

Yui? Well, she would probably space out and focus her ADD on a cake she was thinking about. Then Sally would bash her mouth with that damn scraper and Yui would beg for a break, a nap perhaps. She did say she disliked the dentist as well.

Maybe she'd fall asleep right in the middle of it. That is so her. Azusa would've smiled if her mouth wasn't stretched open. Sally pulled back and commented, "I don't know what happened, but you just suddenly calmed down. I accidentally pricked your tongue and you didn't even notice."

Azusa was then aware of a throbbing pain under her tongue. She knew she would have canker sores.

Sally smiled. "You must've been thinking about something calm and relaxing." She resumed scraping. Azusa flinched as the tool stabbed her gumline.

Pleasant and relaxing. Thinking of Yui made the kouhai forget how scary the dentist was. In a way, Yui was kind of a pleasant and relaxing person. Azusa snorted. Relaxed, more like. All she does is sleep and eat. And then she says I'm cat-like, she thought dryly. But...that's okay, she amended herself with a sigh. Yui-senpai is...the only person who can make me feel this way...

"You're turning red," Sally observed, still scraping. "Are you thinking about a boy?"

Azusa grunted in alarm and sat up, her head smacking the lamp. This time Sally's scraper hit her mouth on her accord. The guitarist sat, panting and nursing her sore head before spluttering, "I was not thinking about a boy!"

The hygienist suddenly turned serious. "Azusa-san, restrain yourself. I would hate to have to strap you down."

With a sigh, Azusa shakily lowered herself back into the chair. Sally gave her teeth a few more scrapes, her tongue and gums a few more pokes, the usual fluoride treatment, and then she was done. Removing her gloves and mask, she ordered, "Stay there. Dr. Miyazaki will be with you in a moment." And she left.

Azusa tipped her head back in the chair and stared out the second floor window over the bridge of her nose. Her head still ached. Yui would never react so frantically to Sally's jests. She would probably just laugh them off. Why does everything I think about revert back to Yui-senpai? It's like I'm obsessed. That thought made Azusa gulp. I can't be obsessed. Yui-senpai's a girl...but...there's something about her.

The kouhai's head felt leaden. She let it loll to one side, her eyes gradually closing...

"Why, she's practically asleep! Did you slip something in her fluoride?"

Azusa's eyes snapped open. She knew that booming high-pitched voice anywhere. Dr. Miyazaki, a man so plain and fair that he defied description, had entered the room with Sally. His gloves snapped on his wrists as he pulled them on.

"I-I wasn't asleep," Azusa insisted.

"Ah, of course not." After running through the obligatory how-are-you questions, Dr. Miyazaki had Azusa open her mouth. He lightly tapped her teeth with the scraper - exhibiting a lot more prowess with it than Sally had. He was just about done when his scraper touched one of her back teeth. Sharp pain lanced along the guitarist's jaw and she hissed in agony.

"This hurts?" Dr. Miyazaki queried. He experimentally tapped the tooth a few times and Azusa moaned. "Has this always hurt?"

"No..."

Her response seemed to trouble Dr. Miyazaki. He leaned against the countertop, considering its beige and white flecked surface. His brow furrowed. It was evident by the way his mask twitched that he was muttering to himself. Azusa caught the words "...could mean that, but..." and nothing more. She sat up a little, this time being more conscious of the lamp, and anxiously inquired, "Anoo, Miyazaki-san, is something wrong?"

The dentist ceased his mumbling and looked up blankly. It was as if he'd forgotten she was there. Then his brow smoothed and his eyes softened.

"I can't say for sure yet," he spoke quietly. "I'd like to run an X-ray, if you don't mind."

Azusa lowered her chin. "I have a choice?"

"Not really." He flitted about the room, accomplishing a few things at once. Retrieving the lead collar. Activating the X-ray machine. "THere is definitely something wrong with that tooth, and I'm obligated to diagnose it." He slipped the lead collar around Azusa's neck. Its great weight crushed her chest. Then he popped some plastic material in her mouth; this was supposed to position her mouth so the X-ray machine could get a picture of all her teeth. Azusa disliked having the thing in her mouth. A plastic edge bit into a fresh canker sore and she winced.

As the machine circled her head the guitarist speculated on what could be wrong with that tooth. If it had been another cavity Sally would've noticed and told her outright. The same went for if that tooth was rotting - though, really, at the age of sixteen Azusa knew her hygiene was better than that. So this has to be a new problem...The guitarist wished she knew more about teeth so she could pose more theories.

It didn't take Dr. Miyazaki long to diagnose her problem once he saw the X-rays. He had most likely seen this a hundred times.

"It seems the roots of that tooth are infected," said he. "It's not bad enough to show up on the crown, but it is bad enough to cause you pain." He turned to Azusa, an almost apologetic flash in his blue eyes. "I'm going to have to refer you to Dr. Hiawata. He specializes in root canals."

Oh, dear God...She could feel her whole body chilling over from head to foot. Azusa knew about root canals. Her mother had had one when she was nineteen. Mrs. Nakano couldn't get enough of describing the procedure in great, gruesome detail to anyone who would listen. Horrible wasn't an abhorrent enough adjective to encompass all the ghastly traits of a root canal.

With a heavy sigh and a gloved hand on her hip, Ritsu wearily surveyed her vast expanse of front yard. Autumn had drained the once lush setting of its colors, making everything appear gray. Even the few but huge piles of leaves were subdued to grayscale. This was Ritsu's punishment for yelling at Tokudaiji-sensei: she had to bag the leaves in the front yard. It was a chore she normally and ritually completed with her father's aide. This time Mr. Tainaka wasn't going to help her.

She set about her duty at a quick pace, ignoring the fatigue that burned in her back and thighs. While she worked she let her mind wander. Thinking made a task more bearable, and the drummer had been doing a lot of thinking lately.

She speculated a bit on her feelings for Mio. Just thinking about the bassist sent a zoomy, euphoric feeling in Ritsu's head. She wondered why she loved Mio and if it had always been this way. Well, the big reason why I talked to her was that she was so reclusive...and so frantic, she mentally added with a grin. Ritsu had always loved scaring Mio, right from the off. It was something the drummer would probably never outgrow. But then, to quote Mio, I haven't outgrown many things, period. She laughed.

So, there was Mio's quiet but nervous demeanor. That was an attraction point. There was also that strength that burned deep within her. Ritsu liked how Mio wasn't strong so much as an outer show of aggression but rather in a smouldering core of tenderness and sensitivity. The drummer sometimes saw that strength come through. She liked to think that she was the only one who got to see it. Though, realistically, I'm probably not.

This leaf bag was full. Using all her energy, Ritsu dragged the leaden thing to the curb. She opened a new bag and proceeded to fill it.

Mio had grown up nicely, Ritsu couldn't help but notice. It was amazing, really, how shy Mio could turn from an awkward, dumpy child to a gorgeous young woman just like that. It was almost as if overnight she had shot up four inches and narrowed through her waist and face. And, of course, there was the impetuous and generous growth spurt in Mio's chest. Ritsu dimly wondered what her bra size was. I just have to say it, the drummer thought; Mio is hot-hottie-hot.

Also, Mio had a comely face to complement her form. Even as a kid, Ritsu had adored Mio's face. She especially liked her eyes, as cliche as that sounded. But it was true. She had those sharp, expressive eyes. They never failed to betray Mio's true emotions. If the bassist insisted she was happy, Ritsu could see the sorrow pooling in those exquisite dark blue eyes.

The drummer sighed. She's so beautiful and I'm so funny-looking. While Mio had spontaneously turned into a lady Ritsu had stayed short and girlish. The brunette couldn't even count the ways she detested her body. There was her small height, small breasts, and her face. Ritsu didn't know how anyone could find her face attractive. She thought it was too round, especially around the chin, and sometimes she thought her eyes looked too small and eerily beady.

I'm Mio's best friend, but let's be honest. If I were to tell her I love her my appearance would be a turn-off. Ritsu paused mid-bag. Should I tell her I love her?

"Hey, Ritsu."

The drummer jumped and her heart galvanized at that deeper feminine voice. She dropped her handful of leaves and turned. Mio stood on the sidewalk, bundled up with her left hand raised in greeting.

"M-Mio...um, heya!" Ritsu's hand automatically strayed to her yellow headband, which she readjusted. She could feel her blood rushing up to her head. "What brings you here?"

"I'm on my way to the store." Smiling, the raven-haired girl brought her hand back in her pocket. "Would you like some help with those leaves?"

Ritsu shook her head urgently. "No, I couldn't get you in on this. I got this. I'm f-fine." She threw her arm behind her head. "Thanks, anyway."

"No problem. What are you doing tonight?"

"Um...laundry?"

"That new Coldstone just opened. What do you say to ice cream and maybe a movie?"

The drummer's heart wanted to break at Mio's warm, platonic smile. She doesn't know how I really feel. Ritsu knew she had to be her normal, energetic self. She grinned and trumpeted, "Yeah! Let's see something morbid and horrible and American!"

Ritsu knew Mio was shuddering because the bassist was tucking her chin against her chest. Mio always did that when she was scared. That was one of the little things Ritsu loved about her.

"Uhh, tell you what," the bassist stammered. "My nerves and blood pressure are already shot from Paranormal Activity. How does Where The Wild Things Are sound? You said you wanted to see that."

Ritsu giggled, recalling how Mio bawled at the trailer for Where The Wild Things Are. Mio always cried at movie trailers. "Sounds like a plan!"

"Great. Then I'll see you at...how's six?"

"Six is good."

"Good." Mio nodded affirmatively. "See you later, then."

"Hasta luego, Mio de mia."

Ritsu watched her go, taken with how Mio's feathery black hair rippled and cascaded with every step like liquid onyx.

Am I...gay?

RECORDING

Chapter Seven

A Trip to the Headmistress's Office

Yui stared dully at her 18"x24" piece of sketch paper. A garish swirl of indigo, roseate, lime green, and blanc colored her vision. With some effort, she pulled herself out of her trance. She dimly considered the smudged white oil pastel in her right hand. She looked across the giant wood table to see Azusa and Ui working diligently on their own pastel drawings. This was their latest project in drawing media: select a painting and replicate it using oil pastels. Yui had chosen Monet's Water Lilies. While they worked their teacher handed back grades for their previous project, the charcoal still-life.

"My drawing looks like craaaaap," Azusa moaned. She had chosen a Gaugin piece that called for lots of detail.

Ui looked up from her Van Gogh emulation long enough to consider Azusa's drawing. "It's pretty good."

"The teacher's going to give me an F."

"Oh, I doubt that. She knows oil pastel is difficult to work with."

Yui blinked. It was so weird to see them getting along so well. Every night since Thursday she had that same dream, but some inocuous details had altered. For example, Azusa was sixteen in the dream but Yui was a kindergartener. The tension between Ui and Azusa was more heavily pronounced. It snapped between them like static electricity. Before Yui jolted awake in a cold sweat that morning Ui called Azusa a "cradle robber" and Azusa retorted with, "You gay incestuous freak!"

Yui shuddered. She'd never remembered a dream before, let alone relive one. It was so brilliant, vivid, and frightening. Why was it so frightening? she wondered. There were no monsters or anything she associated with fear. Maybe it was the way Yui felt in this dream - that was probably the most significant factor. She felt raw and vulnerable. Not in the naked way, but the painful way. The dream was hurting her, like lemon juice poured into an open wound. It stabbed through her whilst she slept and roiled in her subconscious while she was awake, resurfacing at the most inconvenient moments.

She looked up suddenly to see both her sister and her friend staring at her. Azusa's lips moved, but Yui could not hear what she was saying. You gay incestuous freak. The stinging words hit the third year so hard she nearly fell out of her chair. She tried to pull herself together and ask, "What?"

"Your sister asked how your pastel drawing is coming," Azusa repeated with deliberate slowness.

"Oh...Oh!" Yui giggled at her own silliness. "It's coming good. I worked hard to make it this good!" She proudly held up her paper. Her penciling was complete, but she was barely a third done with her pasteling.

Azusa sweat-dropped. "You don't do blending, do you, Yui-senpai?"

The older girl frowned at the white pastel in her friend's hand. "I don't like blending. It makes everything messy."

"But now your project looks like a preschool crayon drawing."

"It's okay. I don't like blending, either," said Ui. "You have to constantly clean the white pastel if you want it to be neat." She wrinkled her nose as she rubbed a paper towel on the tip of her pastel. Then she smirked and winked at Azusa. "Besides, given your grade in this class, I wouldn't try to advise someone if I were you."

Azusa's eyebrows shot down over her brown eyes. "Ara! Who told you about my drawing media grade? Yui-senpai?" She shot an accusing scowl in the elder girl's direction.

Unfazed by the kouhai's glare, Yui queried innocently, "Is your grade really that bad, Azu-nyan?"

"It's...it's average." Azusa seemed to deflate and sag a little bit. "There's nothing wrong with being average. Where did you hear about my drawing media grade, Ui-chan?"

"Oh, it was on the news." The reply came not from Ui, but their drawing media teacher. She breezed by their table, her vibrantly-colored skirt swishing, and deposited their graded still-lifes. The girls immediately dove into their grade sheets.

"Twenty-three out of twenty-five," Yui nodded, satisfied.

"Twenty out of twenty-five." Ui sighed and set her grade aside. "I guess that's not so bad..."

"Fifteen...What is that?" Azusa asked. "A low C? A D?"

Ui grimaced. "That makes sixty percent. That's an F."

A muscle in Azusa's jaw fluttered as her lips made a hard line on her face. For a scary moment Yui thought she'd cry. The kouhai sighed and closed her eyes. If this was happening to Yui-senpai, she wouldn't let it get to her. Azusa let the corners of her mouth turn up. She set her grade sheet aside. "Well, I'll talk to the teacher. Maybe she'll let me re-do it." That F's going to demolish my grade. She resisted the urge to flinch. She didn't want to think about what drawing media was doing to her GPA.

Azusa frowned at her Gaugin pastel disaster. After receiving that F, working on it seemed less pleasing. She set her pastels back in the box and returned it to the front table.

"Just out of curiosity, Yui-senpai," said she, seating herself on her stool, "why did you get a better grade than us?"

"I...don't know..."

A lone girl at their table looked up. "The teacher sets advanced drawers at a higher standard," she explained, "and grades them more harshly."

"Really? That makes a lot of sense," Ui nodded.

"But Yui-senpai's no worse an artist than I am," Azusa pointed out.

The girl bit the inside of her cheek and shrugged. The gesture reminded Azusa of her upcoming root canal. It was scheduled for November 7th.

Ui set down her pastel and considered the two grade sheets. The teacher had a method of having students grade themselves first before she did. This was where Ui found fault in Azusa's grade.

"Here's your problem, Azusa-chan: you gave yourself an F in each category. Why would the teacher give you a good grade if you wouldn't give yourself a good grade?"

Azusa's eyebrows knitted. That's a good question. She actually laughed a short, quiet chuckle. If the teacher had given her the grade she gave herself, she would have gotten a worse F. However, now she couldn't ask to re-do her still-life.

She glanced across the table, checking to see how Yui had graded her still-life. Her project was of the same quality as Azusa's, but the older girl had graded herself more generously. She must really believe in herself. The kouhai sighed. Maybe I should just relax and stop worrying. This pastel drawing doesn't look so bad. She smiled wryly at her half-finished Gaugin replica. She was about to get back up and get the pastels again, but the bell rang.

Sawako jotted one last thing on the dry-erase board. She stepped back with a flourish. "And that is how you do compression. Any questions?"

Her seventh period music technology class held their silence. Ritsu stared dully at her computer screen. Next to her, Mio wrote something down in her notebook. A few individuals shook their heads, indicating that they had no questions.

Smiling, Sawako capped her marker. She loved it when teaching a lesson was this easy. Since the classes she taught were electives, her classes were mostly composed of petulant first years who flipped their hair, snapped their gum, and bombarded Sawako with obvious questions.

"You ladies are such a great class," she beamed, heading back to her desk. "Fourth hour music technology class spent three days on sound compression, and their test scores are significantly lower than yours. I should bring you all a treat or something."

Sawako glanced at Ritsu, half-expecting some wise-ass remark about her cooking. The drummer had her eyes focused on the computer screen, a somber expression on her face. She got a treasure trove of opportunities to make fun of me, and she didn't. Mio, who was usually subjected to Ritsu's irrational fear torture, looked a little bored.

"You all have the rest of the class period to do what you want." As Sawako said this, her hand strayed to her drawer, where her DS was. "How's 'The Boys Are Back In Town Coming'?"

Their final project was to record and edit a song using everything they'd learned. The class boasted a princely amount of guitarists as well as drummers. Mio was the only bass player.

"Remember, you have to learn it by mid-December if you want to record a song."

"The autumn trimester always goes by so fast," Mio sighed, closing her notebook. When she heard no response, she turned to see Ritsu with her chin in her palm, her hazel eyes glued to the screen. The bassist frowned, and lightly rapped her knuckles on her friend's forehead.

Ritsu sat up and looked around. "Is class over already?"

"Yes, space cadet, it is."

The drummer caught the note of anger in her friend's voice. She leaned forward and touched Mio's knee. "What's wrong?"

"I could ask the same of you." The bassist tried to scowl, but her tough face was holding up about as well as Ritsu's friendly smile. "You've been really weird lately."

The brunette bit her lip. She knew what Mio was talking about. Ever since her...revelation...on Saturday she'd withdrawn a bit from Mio. I'm...sexually stimulated by females. Ritsu couldn't bear to say that word with those implications. That word made her feel sick, angry, anxious, and ashamed.

Mio sat there, staring at Ritsu and into Ritsu. If it wasn't bad enough that the drummer couldn't pay for her ice cream and movie ticket, she hadn't said one word. At Coldstone she just poked her ice cream, a stony expression on her face. During the movie she didn't react to any of the events; normally she exuberantly laughed or cried. At the time it aggravated Mio. But now, after two days of this odd behavior, concern vied with her anger.

If it was a family problem or something like that Ritsu would have told me, the raven-haired girl thought. I wonder if she's mad at me?

Ritsu tapped her foot nervously. She knew Mio wanted an explanation - she knew she owed Mio an explanation. Now would be a good time to tell her how I really feel...am...whatever. But at the same time it wasn't. She couldn't tell Mio such a thing in the middle of music technology class.

"I...want to tell you." The drummer's voice was raspy. She cleared her throat.

"Then tell me," Mio begged, leaning forward. "Jeez, Ritsu, you're freaking me out."

Ritsu's eyes darted apprehensively about the room. "It's just...It's personal. And terrible." Without warning, emotion choked her throat, thickening her voice. "I can't even tell anyone this, it's just so bad."

Did she do something? the bassist wondered.

Ritsu swallowed, trying to keep her emotions at bay. It struck her that Mio very well not be a...girl who loved girls. And if she was, there was still that chance that she may not love the drummer back. Thinking of and being around Mio used to make Ritsu feel good. Now her love for the bassist wasn't as pleasing when it didn't have a prayer of being requited.

She was going to cry. She could feel tears stinging her eyes. Her breastbone ached as she held her breath. It was the bell that saved her from a grievous breakdown in the middle of class. She jumped up and darted out of the MIDI lab before Mio could see her tears.

But Mio came after her. Ritsu knew she would. They never left each other alone when one of them was upset. It was their code.

"Ritsu..."

The drummer screeched on her heels like a cartoon character. She swiftly and gruffly brushed away her tears before turning to face her friend. Her Mio.

The bassist's hands were clasped together, her expression beseeching. "I know what you're going through is personal and everything, but...please..." Her voice squeaked. "...please don't be afraid to tell me. It won't change anything."

A fresh flood of tears crashed down on Ritsu. Her eyes shining, she nodded slowly. The corners of Mio's mouth tightened, as if she didn't know whether to smile or frown. She has nice lips, the drummer observed. Kissing her would be...would be...Wrong. Immoral. Gay. That word hit Ritsu in the stomach, forcing her tears out. Shaking like a leaf in a gale, she pushed past Mio and practically ran for the nearest bathroom.

It won't change anything. Mio might be right about that. She might have believed it was true. But Ritsu knew it wasn't. It would change everything. It already had.

Sawako turned off her computer and threw her DS in her bag. On a craptacular day like Monday all the teacher could look forward to was band practice after school. Homeroom was usually a high point, but today it was a bit subdued. Ritsu was unusually quiet and sullen. Sawako had tried to provoke her by logging in her staff account and announcing to the entire homeroom, "Hey, who wants to see Tainaka-san's awful grades?"

Besides Ritsu there was Mugi. Then and throughout homeroom their eyes would drift toward each other. At one point their gazes met, and the two of them immediately averted their eyes, deeply mortified. They both knew what had happened on Friday. They both knew the risk it posed. They both knew one of them had to say something.

What do I say to her? She's a student! Sawako's breath caught in her throat. A ragged gasp escaped her lips. She continued on to Music Room 3 at a double-quick pace. Jesus Christ! I kissed a student! This is bad!

But really, Mugi wasn't just a student. She was more, so much more. They already spent a good deal of time together outside of school. And Mugi was eighteen. She was a consenting adult, and she knew what she was doing. And she didn't seem to not enjoy the kiss. Still, they couldn't pretend it never happened and skirt around each other. We got ourselves a situation, Sawako thought with a sigh. We have to figure out what to do.

"Ah! Sawako-san!"

She looked up to see Tokudaiji across the hall, hailing her. Her eyebrows furrowed and her chin lowered. She neither liked nor trusted Tokudaiji. He was kind of creepy in her opinion.

"Murakami-senpai wishes to speak with you."

Sawako halted a few feet before him. Her lip curled into a derisive scowl. "Are you her messenger now?" Mrs. Murakami was the headmistress.

Tokudaiji bristled, trying unsuccessfully to puff up his diminutive frame. "Murakami-senpai is a good friend of mine. It helps to make friends with your senpais, Sawako-san. It'll help you advance up the ladder."

Suck up to your senpais, more like. But Sawako worried. What did Mrs. Murakami, her boss, want with her? Her mind flashed back to Music Room 3 on Friday. A pang of horror struck her nerves. Sawako had never felt so much remorse for something she did. And so much fear, too. I kissed a student at school! Anyone could've seen that!

Forcing her signature wise guy grin, Sawako retorted, "If you claim to be such good friends with Murakami-senpai, why do you address her as 'senpai'? Do you even know her last name?"

The psych teacher lowered his chin, his broad mouth pulling up into a knowing smile. "You sound a little shaken, Sawako-san. You nervous about talking with the headmistress?"

"Maybe," Sawako responded through tight lips, "not that it's any of your business."

"Fair enough. I'll be on my way."

Venemous silence hung over them like a thunderhead whilst they leered at each other.

Sawako raised an eyebrow. "I believe you'll be on your way?"

"Just as soon as you're on yours," Tokudaiji replied.

The music teacher glowered at the psych teacher over the thin rims of her glasses. Then, without meeting his haughty gaze, she curtly walked past him.

"Sawako-san." His voice reached her ears, bringing her to a halt.

She wanted to scream at him. She was ready to yell, What the hell do you want, you passive-aggressive freak? but that was improper conduct that would definitely get back to Mrs. Murakami. Instead, she turned around, her face an impassive, cold mask.

Tokudaiji ran a large hand over his sallow face, as if this was a great struggle he was not relishing. But Sawako could tell that he was.

"I know you and Kotobuki-san were not in the MIDI lab on Friday. And I know what you were doing in Music Room 3."

Sawako's heart paused, and then broke into a frantic and arrythmic gallop. Guwuhguwuhguwuh. She gasped and sucked in air, fish-like. Her lungs felt very shallow. So Murakami-senpai is calling me about Mugi-chan! I'll bet that weasel tattled!

Her throat burned, like she might throw up. "Y-you...t-told..." She couldn't find the appropriate words to express her rage.

Tokudaiji threw up his hands defensively. "Cool your jets, Sawako-san. I haven't told her." The music teacher's relief was almost tangible. "...yet," he finished with a malignant smile.

"What reason would you have to tell her?" Sawako exploded, no longer able to contain her anger and fear. "This doesn't involve you!"

"But the worst crimes are those which are committed in silence. You probably know that quote. If you don't...eh, that's typical of a music teacher." His smile broadened as Sawako visibly fumed. "My point is, I know it's against regulations for a teacher to get involved with a student. I'm obligated to report this."

Then why didn't you? You can't have it both ways! Sawako was about to say this, but the psych teacher turned away, dismissing their dispute.

"We'll discuss this later. Right now you have your meeting. Rest assured that it does not concern Kotobuki-san."

"Tokudaiji-san!" the music teacher yelled after him. "What will it take for you to not tell Murakami-senpai?"

He did not turn around, but continued to walk away. "I said we'd discuss this later."

Sawako's hands shook violently. She balled them into fists to steady them. She wanted to punch Tokudaiji. She wished there was something for her to do about this right now. All she could do was turn the other way and go to the headmistress's office.

Ritsu felt like she had stuck her finger in an electric socket and held it there. As she staggered up the stairs to Music Room 3 she experienced a series of jolts, shivers, and then the sensation of her entire body being encased in dry lint. Though she was through with crying, her body was not. Whereas most people cried through their eyes, Ritsu had felt like every pore of her being was sobbing. And it did nothing to solve her problems. When she was finally done crying, the guilt and the shame and the worry were still there.

She took a moment to compose herself. Quite a few locks of her bronze hair had fallen loose from her headband. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her nose and cheeks were flushed. The reddening of her topaz eyes couldn't be undone so easily, but Ritsu fixed her hair and let her face return to its normal color. Then she pushed the double doors open and entered.

Immediately the warm, sweet aromas of chamomile tea and croissants avec nutela surrounded Ritsu. Her shoulders sank to a more relaxed position. Sure enough, Yui, Mio, and Azusa were having their tea time. The drummer cocked her head; Sawako was not there, and Mugi had busied herself with the keyboard, playing a minor treble melody with painstaking slowness. Usually Mugi enjoyed the tea time with a passion that rivaled Yui's.

"Ricchan!" Yui greeted as brightly as ever. She threw her right hand forward in an enthusiastic wave. "I was hoping you'd come soon! Where were you?"

Jolt, shiver, and then the lint. I should've thought up an excuse. "Um..." Usually she was an expert at lying on the spot. Today she was not in form. "I'm..."

"Not feeling well," Mio interjected. "She told me she'd make a stop by the infirmary for some Motrin."

"Yeah." Ritsu nodded affirmatively, if not frantically. She threw a grateful smile in Mio's direction. The bassist smiled back, but her ever expressive eyes belied her worry for her best friend. Mio was worried enough for both of them.

"Where's Sawa-chan?" the drummer queried. At their sensei's mention, she noticed Mugi dipping her head closer to her sheet music.

"I guess she's running late, too," Mio mused.

"Maybe we should wait up for her before we begin practice." As Yui said this, her hand strayed closer to the platter of croissants.

Azusa stayed Yui's hand with her own diminutive one. "You're looking for an excuse to keep eating sweets, senpai."

Ritsu checked the clock. Two forty-five. "If she's not here by now, I don't think she's going to show up." That's very strange. "And we have the concert a week from Friday. We should be practicing."

Azusa and Mio seconded this whole-heartedly. Whilst the kouhai struggled to detach Yui from the croissants Mio turned to Ritsu and commented, "It's a pity Sawako-sensei isn't here. I have a few questions about our concert."

"As do I," the drummer nodded wearily, seating herself behind her drumset. "I guess those will have to wait until tomorrow."

They ran through a few favorites such as 'Fude Pen' and 'Heart Goes Boom!' Mio had played these songs so many times she no longer needed to concentrate on the music. Rather, the song became a pleasant background hum to the raven-haired bassist's not so pleasant thoughts. The verses and the choruses and the bridges melted into oblivion as Mio let her mind stretch out.

I wish she would tell me what's bothering her. She could feel her neck stiffening with frustration. We're best friends! We tell each other everything! She could clearly remember the time when things got tense between Ritsu and her father; that was when she was twelve and Mio was eleven. It was close to Christmastime. Ritsu phoned Mio to give her the play-by-play of her latest snit with Mr. Tainaka. At first her tone was indignant, then vulnerable, and then she was sobbing. Surprised by this more delicate side of her friend, Mio whispered sleepily, "It's going to be okay. Just stay on the phone until you fall asleep." And they did just that. All that was exchanged between them for that half hour were some ragged sobs from Ritsu and some soothing shushes from Mio. Nonetheless, that was a determining night for them. It was like a pivot-point. That may have been the night they became best friends.

Maybe if she tells me what's wrong...we'll be even closer friends. Mio smiled, though she suspected Ritsu was scared that this...whatever it was...could end their friendship. That Mio would hate her for...whatever was going on. This suspicion disturbed the bassist. I grew up with her. We practically live together. I could never hate her no matter what.

You hypocrite, she thought bitterly. Who are you to make so light of Ricchan's feelings when the same thing happened to you? When she was fourteen Mio was struck with a sort of serendipity. But at the time this discovery was not so pleasant. In fact, it freaked the raven-haired girl out. Suddenly, after several years of wondering and fruitless searching, she'd found her identity. She found it with such ease she speculated on how come she never found it earlier. There was a degrading word for this identity. It began with an L, and Mio thought it subtly implied that you were a coward.

Oh, yeah. Lesbian.

"S-sumimasen," Sawako stuttered as she tentatively entered the headmistress's office. Any teacher should be as nervous to see the headmistress as any student.

"Sawako-kun." Mrs. Murakami smiled as she looked up, causing relief to flood through the music teacher. So this can't be anything bad. The headmistress gestured at the chair across her large desk. "Please, sit down. Would you like some tea? Or would you prefer coffee?"

"H-hai. Coffee, please." Sawako hastily seated herself in the chair, which was small in comparison to Mrs. Murakami's grand tilt chair. She twiddled her thumbs and watched as the ancient headmistress slowly eased herself out of her chair. She reached for her cane and made her way to the coffee pot.

"I only have decaf. Hope you don't mind."

"Not at all." If this was any other old woman Sawako would've magnanimously offered help. But she knew doing so would offend Mrs. Murakami. Despite her frail, bent frame, the headmistress was as hardy and strong as a tree. She had been a student, like most of the female staff members, and she had an inclination toward sports and martial arts. Karate, kendo, tai chi, badminton, lacrosse, and soccer. She was too strong to let some little filly like Sawako help her.

"So, um..." The music teacher's hands shook and the coffee sloshed. "You...sent for me...?"

Mrs. Murakami nodded slowly. "I've called you here to discuss your promotion."

The coffee seared Sawako's tongue and she cried out. Well, there it was. Nothing less from Mrs. Murakami.

"P-promotion...?"

"Mm-hmm." The corners of the headmistress's eyes crinkled as she smiled. "You've only been a teacher here for three years, yet you already teach more classes than I did when I was your age." It staggered Sawako to think how long ago that was. "I can't think of someone better to chair the fine arts department."

"Department chair...!" Sawako gasped.

Mrs. Murakami's smile broadened. "Yep. I'll bet you were expecting something bad. A detention, perhaps?"

"P...perhaps..."

The headmistress got a distant look on her worn face. "Golly, I gave you truckloads of those when you were a student...you were such a brash, foolish girl..." She smiled again. "But you've grown up so much since then. You're more responsible and trustworthy. I know I can count on you."

"Murakami-senpai..." Sawako whispered. She wanted to cry. It was such a great thing to be promoted, but...She can't count on me! I kissed Mugi-chan! A student!

Mrs. Murakami shook her head, her expression pained. "Please...do not refer to me so properly anymore. We go way back, you and I. I want you to call me Noriko from now on."

"H-hai, Noriko-senpai."

Noriko smiled. "That's better." She returned to her paperwork. "Alrighty, Sawako-kun. You may leave."

Unable to comprehend the turn of events, the new fine arts department chair exited the office. She took a moment to lean her head against a wall. She, Yamanaka Sawako, former class clown and bane of all teachers, was promoted! Being department chair was such a tremendous honor and responsibility. Also, it had tons of financial benefits. Who knows, she thought humorously. Maybe someday Ricchan will be a department chair...if she decides to teach. The idea of that was so hilarious that Sawako burst into a fit of laughter.

Her laughter abruptly died as Tokudaiji patronizingly approached her.

"Ah, yes," he smirked, as if picking up their conversation where they'd left off. "Why would Murakami-senpai punish you for Kotobuki-san when she has the bounty that is the punchbowl incident?"

"Actually, Tokudaiji-san, Noriko-senpai and I were discussing my promotion to department chair." Sawako paused to enjoy his thunderstruck expression. "But hey. Who am I to tell you this? You're the one who knows how to ascend the ladder."

RECORDING

Chapter Eight

Prank!

Mugi grimly dated the neon pink sheet of paper: 10-31-09. Just one more week till the concert, and her issues with it were far from resolved. Rather they sat so heavily upon her shoulders she was sure they'd crush her.

Sighing, she stood and crossed her homeroom to Sawako's desk.

"I need a pass to see my counselor." Mugi's voice was barely above whisper-level. It was the first time she had spoken to Sawako since last Friday.

Avoiding the keyboardist's gaze, the sensei wordlessly filled a yellow pass and sent her charge on her way. Hearing Mugi's gentle voice, slightly tinged with panic, startled and shook Sawako to her core. Those eight words sent her into such a headlong tailspin that she realized she'd accidentally written 10:45 on the pass instead of 12:45. Sawako hoped Mugi wouldn't get busted with a "fake pass."

Mugi never did. She rushed over to the counselor's office to submit a transcript order for Japan Women's University. On the way back to homeroom she was kicking herself for not talking to Sawako. The two of them had been skirting around each other, oddly comfortable and cautious at the same time. It didn't help that of late Sawako didn't come to band practice anymore. But that's no excuse, Mugi thought, her bushy eyebrows knitting. I have to answer her kiss somehow. She didn't know how, though. It seemed kind of ridiculous to the keyboardist that at the age of eighteen she could be so clueless.

She decided right as she opened the door to start a conversation with Sawako. She had the opening line right at the tip of her tongue. Looking right at her sensei, she crossed over to her desk and set the pass down firmly.

"You, uh, were quick..." Sawako commented shyly, tossing the pass into the trash.

"I can usually last longer," Mugi blurted. Idiot! she yelled at herself as the teacher giggled. Well, that was that.

No, that's not it, the keyboardist thought, her head burning with frustration. Say something! Anything! In desperation, she ran through all the lines in her head. What's your sign? What are you doing tonight? Where did you go to college?

Still grinning, Sawako queried, "Are you doing anything for Halloween?"

Mugi's wrist fluttered. "U-um...No. Usually the butlers take care of handing out treats and stuff." Her head swam giddily as it struck her that Sawako might be making plans with her. Her prediction didn't prove false.

"Do you want to do something tonight?"

"D-do something...?"

Sawako nodded. "Like hang out. Go to the mall."

"Oh!...Y-yeah. I'd love to." Mugi smiled, relieved at how easily their plan was coming together. Talking to Sawako after that kiss was easier than she thought.

"Great. There's, um, something I'd like to talk to you about." It made Tsumugi dizzy to think about what the teacher wanted to talk about. "I'll pick you up at six-thirty. Is that okay?"

"Sounds good," the blonde nodded. "Um...Sawa-chan, why haven't you come to practice lately?"

Sawako sighed. "I got a promotion."

"You got a promotion?" Mugi exclaimed.

"Yeah, and it's got me really busy..."

"You got a promotion, Sawa-chan! That's wonderful!" Mugi was beside herself. Smiling radiantly, she leaned on the teacher's desk. "Coffee's on me tonight!"

Sawako blushed from the praise. "Oh, I couldn't let you pay. You're a..." She was about to say student, but they were more than just teacher and student now. The kiss made them ambiguous; tonight's plans made them definite. "I'm getting paid more now. I can buy coffee for both of us."

"Aw, but I'd like to buy you coffee. You deserve it."

The teacher smiled, touched by how much Mugi wanted to do this for her. It was hard to say no to such an eager - and not to mention cute - face. "Alrighty. But I'm buying next time."

Mugi was practically jumping for joy as she returned to her seat. Her heart was pounding hotly and she couldn't stop giggling. She felt like a silly first year, but whatever. Alrighty. But I'm buying next time. Not only was that the prelude to a really seriously awesome first date, it held the promise of them seeing each other again after that. I wonder what she wants to talk to me about...?

"Yo, Mugi-chan."

The keyboardist looked up. Yui, Nodoka, Mio, and Ritsu were staring at her.

"Are you and Sawa-chan dating?" Ritsu asked.

"Ritsu!" Mio exclaimed.

Mugi blinked in surprise. "Well...We..."

"I'm sorry, Mugi-chan," the bassist apologized. Taking a mock-cutesy tone, she pinched Ritsu's cheek. "You know how Ritsu always asks the wrong questions at the wrong time. Right, Ritsu?" she growled, squeezing the drummer's cheek tighter.

Mugi blushed and giggled. "It might be a date. I guess I'll find out tonight."

"Nodoka-chan!" Yui cheered. "You have to come to our concert next week!"

"I have to come to your concert? Next week?" Nodoka, Yui's bespectacled childhood friend, blinked. Lately she had given to repeating requests made of her. "Maybe I could. I didn't know the Light Music Club did concerts."

"We do now," Ritsu sang, "because Sawa-chan is awesome!"

Nodoka smiled. It was impossible for her to not find Yui's band and their eccentric manager heartwarming. "Okay. I'll go. Where is it?"

Yui, Mio, and Ritsu suddenly went uncomfortably stiff. The guitarist turned her wide, questioning eyes to the bassist and drummer. Ritsu bit her lip and looked at Mio, who shrugged.

Nodoka's eyes hooded in annoyance and humor. "You have a concert in a week, and you don't know where your venue is?"

Embarrassed, the three band members scrambled with frantic responses.

"Oh! Of course we do!"

"It's in Yokohama!"

"It's Sawako-sensei's cousin's cosplay cafe for...for..."

Mugi turned toward Sawako and inquired, "What's the name of that cafe, Sawa-chan?"

"Hair," the teacher responded.

"Oh, like the musical," Nodoka smiled.

"Like the stuff on your head."

"Oh...Well..." The kaichou considered her four friends. Yui was so fervent that she had her hands clasped imploringly.

Yokohama's not that far away. "Okay, I'll go-WAGH!" Nodoka cried in alarm as Yui suddenly seized her in a hug.

"Thank you, Nodoka-chan! You rule!"

"Y-Yui-chan! My glasses...You're making them crooked!"

Afterschool practice was starting to become monotonous. After hours of arguing and squabbling, Mio and Ritsu had come up with an ideal setlist. It was small, but they were the opening band. Everyday the Light Music Club ran through that setlist from the top. From 14:10 to 15:45 they ran through that set three times.

Azusa struck the last powerchord, bending the strings to give the abrupt ending. The reverb from her Mustang resonated from the amp. Ritsu firmly gripped the cymbals to give the same effect.

"Not bad," Mugi commented brightly.

"Not bad," Ritsu agreed, "except Mio sang the lyrics so dully."

"You want to get up here and sing?" Mio snapped. "I thought not."

Sheepish silence followed the bassist's harsh words. She slouched over her Fender a little and toyed sullenly with the dials.

"Why so much rage?" Sawako asked. "Bad day?"

"No," the raven-haired girl sighed. "I'm tired of 'The Boys Are Back In Town.' I never want to sing it ever again."

"If we stop practicing, it won't sound good for the show," Azusa reasoned.

"And this is what a real band does," Sawako added. "Play the same songs until they want to kill the lyricist."

"Aw-right!" Ritsu cheered. "Dogpile on Mio!"

The bassist shrank away from that suggestion. She readjusted the mic stand for the forty-second time - she counted because singing was so boring. "Uhh, let's move on to the next song. Cover of 'The Magic of a Kind Word.'"

Mio plucked out gentle eighth notes - which came in twosomes separated by one-beat rests - while Azusa played the slow arpeggios. A few bars into the tune, there was no voice to sing the first verse. One by one, the Light Music Club stopped playing the song. They looked at one another, confused.

"Hey, where is Yui?" Ritsu finally asked. Mio then realized she had heard neither Yui's guitar nor her voice since they played their version of 'Your Cover's Blown' for the second time.

"Is she hiding somewhere?" Mugi suggested. She lifted her Triton off the stand, as if expecting to find Yui hiding underneath. "Maybe she's playing a prank or something."

"I wouldn't put pulling a prank beyond Yui-senpai," Azusa remarked, "but I don't think she could fool us so easily. Where is she?" the second year grumbled, scanning Music Room 3 irritably. "Yui-senpai, come out right now!"

Azusa fumed as the silence stretched out. Somewhere down the hall, a locker slammed.

"She hasn't shown one bit of work ethic since the concert was announced!" the pigtailed girl roared. "And now she's ditching?"

"She didn't ditch," said Ritsu. She pointed a stick at the table where they had tea. "See? Her stuff's still there."

"Though I have to say," Sawako piped up, "I had no idea you cared so much about Yui-chan, Azu-nyan. You act like you don't, but you really..."

Azusa's face flushed a mottled rose color. Whether it was from an overload of humiliation or rage, the second year could not tell. Furious steam burst from her ears, causing her pigtails to fly up.

"Me care about her? Humph!" Azusa turned away in an attempt to dismiss the conversation. Mio, however, could see the guitarist's garnetesque eyes swimming as she absently tapped her pedal. "She's almost eighteen. She can care about herself."

Another awkward silence. Nought was heard save for the creaking floorboards and the low hiss from the amps. Azusa was about to suggest she sing the lyrics this time when Mugi's head suddenly snapped up.

"I thought I heard something like a groan." Mugi pointed at a shabby pile of stands in the corner. "Over there."

Ritsu, Mio, and Sawako were already staring at the corner in question. Azusa joined them in the staring, feeling the muscles behind her ears tense. She heard it then: a sigh, a moan...

"It's the ghost!" Ritsu hissed. "Mio, the ghost is following you to school!"

The anxiety of a week's worth of sleepless nights and noctunal paranormal activity came back to haunt the bassist. The music room was silent for a moment. Then another muffled groan. With a terrified whimper, Mio sank into a crouch. "Go to your happy place, go to your happy place, go to your happy place..." However, this action caused her foot to crudely pull the jack out of the amp she was cowering next to.

SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

The feedback was explosive. It sent poor Mio mindlessly running - anywhere, it didn't matter - with the neck of her bass clutched in her left hand. She went scurrying right to that forbidden corner. And from that corner rose a blurry humanoid shadow with messy hair...

Covering her ears, Mugi scrambled to the shrieking amp and switched it off. All that was left of the feedback after that was the memory of it which rang in the Light Music Club members' ears. Sawako straightened in her chair and dug her pinky in her right ear.

"Itai! Anyone else's ears hurt?"

Shuddering from the chaotic turn of events, Azusa nodded.

Mugi stared wide-eyed at the damned corner that caused all the melee. Mio lay flat on her back, unconscious and white as a sheet. "Mio-chan!" The keyboardist cocked her head. "...And Yui-chan...?" she murmured, spotting the guitarist in the corner, standing over Mio and drowsily rubbing her eyes.

Disorientation from the tinnitis and the events themselves kept the band from putting two and two together faster. Then, leaving their instruments, they all rushed to the corner. Mugi squatted over Mio whilst Ritsu shook her and attempted several wake-up slaps.

"You don't suppose she's had a heart attack, do you?" Mugi whispered warily.

"Nah." Ritsu pursed her lips and shook her head. "She's just passed out. She'll come around."

"She's so docile," Sawako sighed.

The drummer grimaced. "Good grief, but that was scary. Even I was a little frightened."

Meanwhile the livid Azusa was laying into the confused and still sleepy Yui.

"I can't believe you'd just nap through band practice!" Glowering, Azusa put her hands on her hips and shook her head. "Actually, it figures you'd do something like that just to make me miserable!" The kouhai would have gone on ranting had Yui not silenced her with a gentle hand on her face.

"Azu-nyan...Azusa, I'm sorry. I'm very sorry to have worried you."

Azusa blinked, surprised by how sincere Yui sounded, not her usual blithe tone. The kouhai could feel her knees shaking as she looked up at Yui.

"I feel bad about all the trouble I've caused," the senpai continued, "but Mio-chan's singing was so quiet it made me sleepy."

"I figured," Ritsu snorted. "Ya hear that, Mio? Even Yui-chan thinks your singing's boring!"

"I didn't think you'd worry so much about me," Yui finished, lightly dragging her fingertips along Azusa's puffed out cheeks.

"I...shouldn't worry about you." The younger girl sounded breathless. "You're almost eigh...eighteen...You c-can worry about yourself."

"True." Yui could have thought of ways to toy with the second year, but instinct urged her otherwise. At long last, Nakano Azusa seemed ready to give up the game. "But Azu-nyan worries about me nonetheless, ne?"

"I can't help that."

"It's alright. Maybe I need someone to worry about me-"

"I knew you guys were dating! Guitarist love for the win!"

Gasping, Azusa forcibly broke hers and Yui's tender embrace. She placed a petite hand against the wall, steadying herself. She shot a withering glance in Sawako's direction.

"We are not dating!"

Nonplussed by the second year's outburst, Sawako smiled crookedly. "From an outsider's perspective, you guys look like a couple."

"Well, you're wrong! You've lost your perspective!" Azusa spluttered. Yui sighed, knowing the game was up. It doesn't have to be up now, though.

"Azu-nyan."

"What?" the kouhai roared, whirling to face Yui.

The elder girl grinned. "Want to have dinner tonight?"

Azusa's mouth fell open. Then it seemed to flap open and closed, like a fish out of water. Unbelievable! How can she make such intimate plans so blatantly? And in front of everybody? She narrowed her eyes at Sawako, who had pulled a victory fist and cheered, "Score!" The kouhai shook her head. "Tonight's not a good night. I have to help my parents hand out Halloween candy."

"Aw, come on!" Yui pleaded, grabbing Azusa's arm. "Ui's making lemon chicken pasta, and there's raspberry sorbet for dessert!"

Azusa seemed to relax her guard a bit. She leaned on one foot and pulled at her black hair pensively. Then she sighed, "...Alright, then. My parents could probably manage the trick-or-treaters without me."

Ritsu snickered while Mugi splashed cold water on Mio's face. "Man, Azu-nyan, you and Yui-chan have so much in common. I mean, all it takes is food to convince you."

"Don't compare me to her!" Azusa snapped. "I only agreed because Ui-chan's gonna be there, rather than just the two of us alone!"

"Well, three is company," Sawako giggled.

Ritsu frowned as Mugi once again dashed a cup full of cold water on Mio's face. It did nought to rouse the bassist. The drummer took the cup from Mugi and filled it halfway with water. "Lemme try something. This worked at a sleepover once when we were little."

She set the cup on the floor next to the unconscious Mio. Ritsu then lifted the bassist's arm, and dipped her hand in the water.

RECORDING

Chapter Nine

Sinister Mio

When Mio came to, Ritsu's upside-down head filled her vision. Her best friend's brow was creased all the way up to her hairline. Then Ritsu's forehead smoothed and her face receded from Mio's sight.

Perplexed, the bassist sat up to find she had been laying unconscious with her head in Ritsu's lap. They were in the drummer's darkened living room on the couch. The house was utterly silent. Mio glanced out the window to see that the sun had set.

Mio blinked, her obsidian eyebrows slanting a bit. "How long was I...?" she started to whisper, but the clock in the cable box answered her. 18:57. "...Almost four hours...!" The bewildered bassist turned back to her friend, who had said nought yet. "How did I get here? Did someone drive us?"

Ritsu shook her head. Grinning at the reaction she was expecting from Mio, she responded, "I carried you."

The very idea of this was enough to blow Mio's mind a hundred times over. Her mouth fell open and she blinked rapidly, attempting to formulate a logical response. "You - me - all the way...WHAT?" she exclaimed, making Ritsu laugh. The drummer could hear the fuses in Mio's brain blowing.

"I didn't know what else to do," Ritsu snickered, shrugging blithely. They both still wore their uniforms. "We couldn't stay at school."

She's so little, though! How did she manage that? A tidal wave of gratitude struck Mio as she thought of her best friend carrying her all the way from school. The bassist inclined her head, murmuring, "Arigatou, Ritsu."

"N-no problem," the brunette stuttered, blushing. She averted her hazel eyes, which swam in the wan light. "I couldn't just...I mean..." She closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath. It did nothing to alleviate her of her sudden intense nervousness. Their intimacy struck the drummer, causing her to open her eyes and face her friend. Mio was close enough to touch. Yes, touch...It was no longer enough to just see Mio and talk to Mio. Ritsu needed to touch Mio. Anywhere. Her arm, her hair, her knee.

Why is she so embarrassed? the bassist wondered, studying her friend's flushed face. It was a little gauche, yet Mio felt oddly drawn in by Ritsu's dreamy stare. This bizarre conundrum made the raven-haired girl a little embarrassed as well. Her cheeks reddened to match Ritsu's. Why do I feel this way? Then a poignant thought struck Mio: Could she be feeling the same way as me?

Ritsu allowed a smile to spread across her face. Mio's been staring at me for a long time. The drummer had seen too many movies to not know what this meant. Trusting her gut, Ritsu leaned in a bit closer...parted her lips slightly...

DING-DONG!

The brunette halted, her mouth but a mere inch from Mio's. She sighed, checking the clock. 19:02.

"Doesn't Halloween end at seven o'clock?" the bassist whispered, giving voice to Ritsu's thoughts word for word.

"Yeah," the drummer replied, also whispering, "but you know how some people are. Probably college kids." Why are we whispering? she wondered.

DING-DONG!

"Coming..." Ritsu called, reluctantly dragging herself off the sofa and into the foyer. She grabbed the stainless steel bowl full of candy. A drop of sweat appeared on her head. Sometimes she wished her parents would let her shop for Halloween candy. Her mom had bought Baby Ruths. Ritsu didn't know anybody under fifty years old who ate Baby Ruths.

Two guys in hoodies and jeans faced Ritsu sullenly as she opened the door. She tossed two candy bars at them, and then closed the door when they asked for more.

She turned back toward the living room, but didn't enter. On the couch she saw Mio had also been leaning forward. The reality of what almost happened struck Ritsu. I almost kissed Mio! Teetering a little, she set the bowl down. Part of her was happy she hadn't actually gone through with it. Mio would flip her wig if I forced my feelings on her in such a way. Ten-plus years of friendship could be thrown away so easily.

Mio looked up. The light from the foyer revealed that her cheeks were still rosy. "Something wrong?"

Her voice caught Ritsu off-guard, snapping the drummer from her reverie. It occured to her that Mio could very well unmask her secret without aid. That was a little bit frightening to Ritsu, and she responded to the fear the only way she knew how.

"Why're you blushing, ne?" she teased.

"Why are you?" Mio retorted.

Ritsu flinched. She gingerly touched her burning face. Good grief, I'm like an open book! But perhaps Mio was blushing for the same reason. That was a consoling, yet exciting thought. There's no reins on this, Ritsu realized. Maybe I should just tell her...

"Well, it..." The drummer forced her legs to move; her calves felt leaden. "It has to do with that...thing...that's had me so..." Ritsu didn't know how to finish the sentence. She plopped down next to Mio. The word sullen popped into her head just as she noticed Mio absently twirling a lock of her hair with her right hand. The motion looked neither clumsy nor awkward as most of Mio's rare right-handed actions were. "Chotto matte. Since when could you use your right hand so easily?"

Mio smirked. "I can't, but it's not like it's completely useless." Laughing humorlessly, she reminisced, "Remember penmanship classes with Abe-sensei?"

That old ghost of a name immediately struck Ritsu. She grinned. Old Mrs. Abe, a first grade teacher in primary school, was one of those unforgettable teachers. A teacher to tell your kids about.

"She was the religious fanatic, ne?" Ritsu held her tummy, shaking with mirth. Mrs. Abe was an ancient woman with a gravelly, deep voice and a faith strong enough to move mountains. Between learning about long division and grammar, she would bash the homosexuals and praise the Lord.

"Hai." Mio was genuinely laughing now. "She used so many big words that nobody understood." Sighing, the bassist dropped her smile. "She used to make me write right-handed."

The audacity of this was staggering, so much so that Ritsu forgot the answer to her own question: "Why?"

"Because everything having to do with the left side was..."

"Evil. Sinister. Awkward. I remember now," the drummer nodded. She giggled. "She used to call you something..."

"Sinistromanuel." Mio's voice was flat, irritated. Ritsu laughed and the bassist ranted, "Everyday she told me..." Mio dropped her voice deeper within her throat. "Akiyama-san, you are sinistromanuel, and that is not the way God made you. Who in the world says sinistromanuel? Why couldn't she just call me lefty like everybody else?"

"Probably because she wanted to feel like the high and mighty dextromanuel." It was amazing to Ritsu how discriminant Mrs. Abe had been to her only sinistrous student. Poor Mio had to be the sinistromanuel while everybody else got to be the righty...

It was mid-April, 1998. The excitement of first grade was still thick in the air for the boys and girls. They had desks - real desks with tops that lifted up to reveal real text books and other novel school supplies. They had lunch and outdoor recess. After a year of painting and singing the alphabet, they were learning real intense stuff. And that was thrilling to Akiyama Mio, age six. If I can make it in first grade, I can make it in the world! she thought giddily. She closed her math book and neatly set it in her well-organized desk. She pulled out her history book, for Mrs. Abe always moved on to history lessons after math.

Mrs. Abe pulled several sheets of lined paper from a rack on her desk and proceeded to set a leaf on each child's desk. Mio wasn't the only one who was confused. Everyone stirred with surprise.

One student spoke up. It was that rambunctious girl with the high forehead who always teased Mio at recess. She piped up, "Sensei, why aren't we-"

"You will raise your hand if your desire is to speak, Tainaka-san."

Sighing flambuoyantly, Ritsu sank back in her chair, her right hand raised. Mrs. Abe refused to call on the wee brunette until she had finished passing out the paper. Mio could see from across the classroom that this irritated Ritsu.

"Now, Tainaka-san," Mrs. Abe said, coming back to the front of the classroom, "what is your question?"

"Why aren't we doing history today?"

Murmurs of assent greeted her query. Irked by the noise, Mrs. Abe held up her hand. That was her signal for everyone to be quiet. After the noise died down she said brightly, "Today we begin a new course in the curriculum. Who knows what 'curriculum' means?"

Her smile strained as the silence stretched out.

"Curriculum..." She turned around and wrote the word on the board. "...means our course of study. We're learning something new." Turning around with a flourish, she proclaimed, "Penmanship!"

The silence stretched out further.

"I can see you're...all so excited," Mrs. Abe smiled. And without further ado, she dove into their first penmanship lesson.

"Go," she spoke, writing the character on the board. Mio marvelled at Mrs. Abe's neat scripture. It didn't compare to the raven-haired girl's scrawl. "What word commences with the letter go?"

After a brief hesitant silence some suggestions came up. Nodding, Mrs. Abe wrote the words goju and gomenasai on the board. She continued through the alphabet, compiling a sizeable list of words. Her instructions succeeding that were to write the words yourself on your lined paper. While everybody worked Mrs. Abe walked around, alienating individuals for their messy handwriting.

"You expect people to be able to read this, Tainaka-san?" The teacher held the paper at arm's length. Ritsu could've handed Mrs. Abe a glistening turd and she would have reacted with less disgust. "Unacceptable! I would expect better of a right-hander!"

Mio felt her back go stiff as Mrs. Abe approached. The sensei had never once raised her voice at the noir-haired girl, but her combustible temper had gone down in legend. Gripping her pencil firmly, Mio tried to write inu as neatly as possible.

Without looking up Mio became aware of Mrs. Abe's presence. The sensei's head shadowed her paper. She said nought for a moment. Then, her voice tinged with excitement: "Come with me."

Mio obeyed without question, yet she worried why she had to go with Mrs. Abe. Is my handwriting really that bad? She was suddenly afraid that the teacher would punish her. Maybe I have the worst handwriting in the class! Maybe Abe-sensei's going to chop my hand off! Mio clutched her left wrist and glared tearfully at Mrs. Abe.

Her fear increased exponentially as the teacher brought her to Ritsu's desk. Placing both hands on Mio's small shoulders, Mrs. Abe barked, "Tainaka-san."

Ritsu looked up. Her round hazel eyes glinted when she saw Mio.

"Do you know this young lady?" Mrs. Abe inquired.

"Mio-chan!" Ritsu cheered. "How was that worm in your hair?"

Mio shuddered, remembering how the gross thing slid through her coaly locks. "Horrible!" she squeaked. Of course Ritsu giggled at this. Ritsu always found Mio's trepidation funny. Mio's left hand balled into a fist. One day I'll slug her. Then she'll never make fun of me again!

"Tainaka-san..." Mrs. Abe's voice carried more authority than before. "Akiyama-san is a sinistromanuel and she writes better than you! Explain yourself!"

"Sister mantel?" Ritsu's brow folded in confusion. "Is that a disease?" She was looking at Mio as though she were diseased.

"Yes, it is a disease!" Mrs. Abe's hands fluttered lunatically. "Poor Akiyama-san is cursed by the Devil, and now she is forced to use the hand that can't write!" The sensei grabbed Mio's left hand and thrust it in Ritsu's face. "But she overcame this...this execration, and her handwriting is flawless! Absolutely utopian! What's your excuse, eh? You're not a sinistromanuel!"

Whilst Mrs. Abe ranted, Ritsu and Mio's eyes met. All of six years old they both were, yet at such a green age they could think, This bitch is off her rocker.

"...Anyways," the sensei finished with a sigh, "I hope you learned something from this, Tainaka-san."

"I did," Ritsu muttered unconvincingly.

Mrs. Abe released Mio's left hand. The raven-haired girl started to slink off, traumatized, when the teacher barked, "Get back here, Akiyama-san! I have not yet terminated the business which I have with you!"

Squeaking frightfully, Mio stiffly turned back around. Seeing those wide blue eyes bright with tears made Ritsu's heart go out for the newly branded girl. At the same time the brunette felt angry. Who was Mrs. Abe to scare Mio like this? Didn't she know that Mio's fear belonged to Ritsu?

Quaking with dread, Mio followed Mrs. Abe to the back of the classroom. Along the way the teacher snapped up another sinistromanuel named Yamoto Chiharu. She towered above the two cowering girls, her arms crossed. Mio's blue eyes met Chiharu's green ones. And in that instant they knew each other.

"You both are aware of why you're here, ne?" Mrs. Abe inquired.

Mio was so scared she felt like crying. Chiharu was similarly disquieted, though she worked up the nerve to respond. "We're sister mantels...?"

"Sinistromanuels," Mrs. Abe corrected. She gestured at a chipped round table. "Sit there a moment. I'll be with you soon." She departed to monitor the other students' work.

Mio immediately complied with the sensei's orders. After a few seconds' hesitation, Chiharu also reluctantly sat. She was a small girl with shoulder-length straight brown hair, shelf bangs, and glasses. Her hooded green eyes darted about the back of the classroom. Mio presumed she was plotting escape routes.

"What's a sinistromanuel?" she inquired.

"I dunno," Chiharu muttered, laying her head down on the table, "but I hate it. It makes me feel ugly."

Aside from the rickety round table, this end of the classroom was sparsely furnished. Mio imagined Mrs. Abe grilling sinistromanuels until they snapped, and then repainting the walls to cover the bloodstains. She looked at Ritsu, who had been glancing back there every once in a while. Ricchan's a little scary, but Abe-sensei could be dangerous.

Chiharu abruptly got up and fetched a dictionary. Leafing through it, she murmured, "If Abe-sensei's gonna call me by this weird name, I'd like to know what it means." She halted once she got to the S's and looked at Mio. "How do you spell 'sinistromanuel'?"

Mio shrugged.

Sighing, Chiharu cluelessly flipped the pages until she stumbled upon that accursed word. "Here it is!...'Sinistromanuel: Having more dexterity in or using the left hand more easily than the right...Awkward or maladroit.'" Shaking her head, Chiharu protested the definition, waving her tiny fist. "My left hand is not awkward! This isn't right!"

"No, it is not right." Mrs. Abe came strolling back, bearing more lined paper. She divided them into two piles, each of which she thrust at the two lefties. "You are not right, but left. Sinister. Izquierda. Gauche. Lihft, as the Anglo-Saxons put it. Do you know what 'lihft' meant to the Anglo-Saxons?"

Who are the Anglo-Saxons? Mio wondered. The expression on Chiharu's face suggested the same thought. Maybe they were Mrs. Abe's Martian relations. Being that they spoke a language that was as good as dead to Mio, they sounded as crazy as the sensei.

"Well, 'lihft' means left, obviously," Mrs. Abe shrugged. "But to the Anglo-Saxons it also meant weak and worthless. And I believe that's quite true. I mean, look at how I write with my sinister hand." Precariously, Mrs. Abe picked up a ballpoint pen from the table with her left hand. She wrote on the lined paper: Sinistromanuelism is a sin. Meticulous she was while she wrote, but the Kanji was still jagged and sloppy. "See? It's useless."

It's not useless to me. Mio had been using her left hand for as long as she could remember. Neither of her parents called attention to it. She colored shapes left-handed in kindergarten and her then teacher didn't mind or even notice. It was dawning on Mio that maybe it was just Mrs. Abe who noticed left-handedness. It also dawned on Mio - and Chiharu as well - that they were different from the rest of the class. Not only different, but inadequate. Mio held up her left hand, feeling like it had made her a failure.

She looked resentfully at the twenty-nine right-handed students sitting in the front. She and Chiharu were sinistromanuel, and so they belonged in the back. Mio looked at the quiet brown-haired girl, feeling oddly connected to her. We're both freaks, by sensei's standards. I'm just glad I'm not alone.

"You both are writing with a useless hand," Mrs. Abe continued. "And I will see to it that you use your right - and more useful - hands at all times."

A pit of dread formed in Mio's stomach.

The sensei set the two girls on the 'path of RIGHTeousness' immediately. Their first assignment was simply to write their names - an ordinary task which Mio found daunting when performed right-handed. Just holding the pencil correctly was an all-out tribulation. It was so difficult that Mio had to manually place her fingers around the pencil with her left hand.

Chiharu, Mio bitterly noticed, had no trouble holding a pencil, or writing for that matter. She picked up the pencil as easily with her right hand as she had with her left hand. In no time at all she had written her full name. The handwriting was sloppy (as all children's tends to be), but it pleased Mrs. Abe.

"You are ambidexterous," she declared to the six-year-old. "Do you know what that means?"

Chiharu shook her head.

"It means you are tempted by the Devil's sinistrous curse, but you can resist it. It is a rare gift, Yamoto-san. Treasure it as you treasure your right hand." She handed Chiharu her paper. "You may return to your seat."

Chiharu accepted the paper, bowed, and scurried off to her seat, shaken.

Traitor, Mio spat inwardly. She glared at her paper. In the time it took Chiharu to write her full name Mio had only completed the a character in Akiyama. She longed for a shorter last name.

"I see you are not so gifted," Mrs. Abe observed.

"No, I'm not," Mio growled.

"You're doing fine. The beginning's always tough."

Unless you're ambidexterous. She threw another glare in Chiharu's direction.

"One of the hardest things to do," the sensei continued, "is to unlearn something. The longer you do something repeatedly, the more difficult it is to break that habit." She patted Mio's shoulder. "Once you unlearn writing sinistrously, using your right hand will come more easily to you."

It never did come easily to wee Mio.

Mrs. Abe didn't keep her in the back; only during penmanship lessons was the poor girl confined to the rearmost end of the classroom. But it wasn't just then that Mio was unlearning left-handedness. Mrs. Abe kept an eye on her from the moment she walked in the classroom at 8:30 to the moment she left at 15:10.

"Right hand, Akiyama-san!" Mrs. Abe reminded her during a math lesson. Shamefaced, Mio switched her pencil to her other hand. "That's good. Keep on using that right hand, Akiyama-san," Mrs. Abe impetuously cheered during a spelling test. The class giggled. On days that Mio was absent from school she imagined Mrs. Abe addressing her classmates with: "Akiyama-san is not here today, but if she were she would be writing with her right hand now."

It was better at home, where Mio's sinistromanuel ways fell upon the eyes of equally sinistromanuel parents. But at school Mio was haunted by an irrational fear that everyone was lying in wait for her to use her left hand so they could pounce.

One day during recess Mio exited the bathroom to see Ritsu loping up the hallway. Her normally cheery face was screwed up in pain, and she held a towel to her left elbow. Under regular circumstances Ritsu would've teased Mio as she passed by, but the brunette obviously had more important things at hand.

"Anoo..." Mio tentatively called after her. Her heart rate increased as Ritsu turned her tear-streaked face toward her. "What's wrong?"

"I scraped my elbow jumping off the swing," Ritsu sniffled. She pulled the towel away and Mio cried out in horror. The brunette's elbow was oozing blood. Copious crimson stains splattered and smeared the towel. Ritsu laughed at Mio's reaction, then inquired, "Where's the nurse's office?"

Mio frowned, for she knew the answer but she didn't know how to give it. Two weeks' worth of writing with an unfavored hand left the raven-haired girl disoriented. At times - such as now - she completely lost her sense of direction. She looked at her two hands for reference. She knew one of them was left. And she knew that if one had to be left the other had to be right.

"Well..." she began uncertainly. "You just make a right at the headmaster's office." She extended a hand in what she believed was the right direction.

Ritsu's brow puckered. "Uh, Mio-chan..."

"Mm?"

"You're pointing left."

Her face the very picture of open surprise and wonder, Mio considered her left hand extended outward. I always use that hand without even thinking. Maybe she always would.

"Can you tell right from left?" Ritsu's voice brightened with amusement. "Is this a sign of sister mantel?"

Mio's face fell. All week whenever someone had given her directions she had been unable to follow them. She was a sinistromanuel - with all the negative qualities, plus stupidity - no matter which hand she wrote with. Ashamed and no longer able to contain her anguish, Mio began to sob. She crouched on the floor and balled her fists over her eyes.

"Aw, gosh...Look, I'm sorry, 'kay? Don't cry." Still clutching her towel, Ritsu kneeled in front of Mio and placed a hand on her knee. "I was just jokin'. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"I'm such an idiot!"

"Oh, no you're not. Sometimes I get left and right mixed up, too."

"No! I am!" Mio looked up at the girl who normally bullied her. Her ink-blue eyes glittered with tears. "I can't write left-handed and I never feel right writing right-handed!"

Ritsu shrugged. "So write left-handed."

Mio shook her head, frustrated and miserable, and buried her red face in her hands. "I can't! Abe-sensei won't let me!"

Ritsu jumped up and excitedly paced circles about her friend. "I knew she was bugging you! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!" She halted and waved her free hand expressively. "Why do you do anything that psycho tells you? I never do!"

"And you're the one she always sends to the headmaster's office."

The brunette rolled her eyes. "Whateverrrr! Abe-sensei's crazy to make you write right-handed! Don't you know how awesome it is to be left-handed?"

"...'Awesome'...?" Mio echoed quietly. She looked up from her hands.

"Yeah!" Ritsu flashed her teeth in a brilliant smile. "I'll bet some of the awesomest people in history were left-handed! Like...like...Goku! Yeah...or...Astro Boy! Or Pikachu!" She fell silent when she saw Mio's small frame quivering. The raven-haired girl moved her hand away from her mouth; she was smiling, laughing. "See? You know that lefties are awesome," Ritsu sighed, relieved she had consoled Mio. She extended her hand. "C'mon, let's go play!"

Still giggling, Mio took Ritsu's hand and the brunette helped her up. After Mio crudely bound Ritsu's elbow with the towel they stepped back outside into the spring. The raven-haired girl smiled, thinking of what Ritsu told her. Ricchan's not so bad after all.

"Hey, Mio-chan, check out my new pet."

Mio turned to find Ritsu's hands cupped around a daddy longlegs spider. She stumbled backwards with a horrified screech.

"His name is Fluffy," Ritsu grinned, forcing the arachnid closer to Mio's pale face. The ebony-haired girl's eyes widened as 'Fluffy-chan,' as Ritsu kept calling it, extended a thin spindly leg and skittered silently along the brunette's arm.

"Fluffy-chan says he likes you!" Ritsu giggled. "Wanna pet him?" She extended her arm.

"G-get that thing away from me...!"

Waterfall tears streamed down seventeen-year-old Mio's face. "You were such an awful...wonderful...disordely person!" she laughed. "If it wasn't for you I would've had to write right-handed and go psycho!"

"Hm. And here I thought you went psycho anyways."

POW! BOP!

"Owww..." Ritsu moaned. "You hit me twice..."

Mio crossed her arms. "One for calling me psycho, and one for that stupid spider." She sighed, grumbled, "I should've decked you a long time ago for that one."

Heavy but quick footsteps descended down the staircase and Satoshi, Ritsu's little brother, appeared in the foyer behind the two girls. He did a double-take, for he had nearly ran heedlessly out the front door.

"Mio-san looks pissed and nee-chan's got a lump." Laughing, he donned his jacket. "Business as usual, I guess."

"I guess," Ritsu squeaked, imitating how Satoshi's voice had cracked on guess.

Her brother scowled. "Oh, shut up. I love my cracky voice." His voice cracked a few times. Even Mio was giggling. His cheeks pinkened. "I'm going out with the guys to see Paranormal Activity."

Now Mio whimpered.

"Have fun," Ritsu smiled.

After Satoshi left the two girls sat in silence. Mr. and Mrs. Tainaka were at a parent-teacher conference with Tokudaiji. Ritsu and Mio were alone. The brunette realized with a flash that this was the perfect time to tell her.

Ritsu was terrified.

"Uh, Mio, look...I gotta, uh...talk to you..."

RECORDING

Chapter Ten

Checkmate!

Sighing contentedly, not unlike a cat stretched in its favorite sunspot, Azusa set down her spoon and leaned back. If Ui's delicious cooking was enough to make the prudent Azusa express such quiet joy, it set Yui leaning her head on the table, her chestnut eyes glazed and her expression lethargic. Azusa frowned, wondering if Ui had slipped a dose of Versed in her oneechan's portion of ice cream.

"Thanks for dinner and dessert, Ui-chan," the sloe-haired girl smiled. "It was astonishingly good as always."

"That's why I'm here, Azusa-chan: to astonish you," Ui giggled. She leaned in a little, tilting her head. "Aw, oneechan, you're getting sorbet in your hair!"

"Great," Yui sighed, her voice dull with languidness. "Now my hair can enjoy it, too."

Azusa bit her lip, vainly fighting back laughter. It was so amusing to think that something like hair, a dead thing on your head, could enjoy sorbet. Ui-chan would officially be an extraordinary cook if even hair could enjoy her food. She was wondering what it would be like if her hair had nerve endings when the doorbell rang.

"Ah! That's Jun-chan!" Ui stood and ran to the door. Azusa stared after her, deliberating why Jun had come over. Yui lifted her head off the table and also watched the two friends greet each other. Ui donned her coat and came into the kitchen. "Coming, Azusa-chan?"

Coming where? the younger guitarist thought. Her mind stepped back over the last week in search of plans for Halloween the three of them made.

"You forgot, didn't you?" Jun dead-panned.

"N-no! Not really…" Azusa puffed up as Jun's hand came to her smiling mouth. "Stop laughing! How can I forget something I never had any memory of?"

"Er, that's kind of the whole point of forgetting…"

"We're going to Harajuku to do some shopping," Ui supplied. "We made plans for this three days ago, and you said you'd come."

Azusa thought back to Tuesday. She remembered being preoccupied over a hug Yui had given her before first period. Oh yeah. That hug had absolutely no precedent. I wasn't sad or anything. She just hugged me…for the sake of hugging, I guess…Azusa had wondered how the embrace applied to that once-mentioned game of Yui's. Does Yui-senpai think about the game as much as I do? She doubted that.

"Azu-nyan, why are you staring at me like that?" Yui giggled.

The noir-haired kouhai started, unaware she had been staring. As if in an attempt to undo that incident, she forced her eyes away from Yui. Neither of them noticed Ui's questioning brown eyes drifting from Azusa to Yui.

Jun tapped her foot impatiently. "Soooo…Are we gonna go?"

"I'm ready," Ui said faintly. A broody expression crossed her face as she took a pregnant pause. "Azusa-chan." Ui forced the name out, sounding like she had been hit in the stomach. "Are you going to go with us or stay with oneechan?"

Azusa considered her options. It was poor enough form to forget their plans; to blow them off would be worse. Her parents raised her to be better than that. But to stay the night with senpai again…Azusa looked at Yui — consciously this time — and felt her heart spring. Her stomach was throbbing against her ribs. It was the same feeling she got right before a concert, yet it felt totally alien to the kouhai.

"I want to stay with senpai," she blurted. Something inside her — a burning, tingling spark in her torso — urged her to say that.

"Yay!" Yui cheered, racing around the table to squeeze Azusa. "Now I have Azu-nyan to watch my DVD with!"

Ui looked disappointed. "Well…Maybe next time?"

"Yeah." Azusa nodded, which was difficult with Yui pressed close to her. "We can hang out at my house and play Trivial Pursuit or something." It seemed polite to do a raincheck.

Ui nodded, her expression still somber. She hesitated before heading out with Jun. The door closed behind them and there was a silence heavy with anticipation.

I think I lost the game, Azusa thought, settling closer to Yui. But this doesn't feel like losing. When I'm in senpai's arms I don't feel like I've lost anything.

"You…said you rented a DVD?" she whispered.

"Yep." The elder girl paused. "Well, actually, Ui rented Beowulf off Netflix for me."

"Beowulf…?" Azusa pulled back and looked at Yui. I didn't know Yui-senpai was into movies like that. A vague thought of third years reading Beowulf for lit classes scraped her mind. She frowned. "Hey, wait a second! You're just watching it so you don't have to read the book!"

"Not really. I'm taking British Literature next trimester." Yui got up and skipped over to the TV. "Ricchan and Mio-chan took Brit Lit in the spring trimester, and they say we're reading Beowulf first."

Azusa followed Yui into the TV room and seated herself next to the senpai on the floor. She personally thought it would be more fun to read the book and then watch the movie, if not for the simple joy of reading but to compare and contrast your view of the book with the producer's. But Yui was Yui, and she wasn't going to change. I hope the movie's good.

"…She doesn't know what she's doing," Ui sighed for the umpteenth time that night. "She just doesn't know what the devil she's doing."

Jun patiently sipped her hot chocolate. Ever since they boarded the train to Tokyo, Ui had gone on and on about Azusa's snap decision to stay with Yui. This turned into a rant about Yui's lack of common sense. Ui was very thorough in her lecture. She left no stone unturned. Eventually, though, she became repetitive and turned the same stones over and over. And Jun got the feeling she hadn't reached her point yet. Ui seemed wary to reach her point.

"Azusa-chan's not very gentle to oneechan," Ui continued, readjusting some hairs that had flown loose of her hairtie. "I mean, you should've seen her wake-up method last week!"

"She slung Yui-chan over her shoulder," Jun chuckled. "You told me about that." At first the account had surprised her; now, it amused her. She couldn't picture little Azusa carrying someone bigger and older than her.

"That was way too harsh for oneechan." Ui shook her head disapprovingly. "Azusa-chan could've woken her up without such unnecessary force."

Jun shrugged. "Maybe it was necessary to her. She probably wanted to save time. You know how wasting time aggravates Azusa-chan." Ui started to say something, but Jun sidestepped so she was facing her distressed friend in the busy Harajuku plaza. "Did you ever think maybe Azusa-chan did you a favor? Isn't it easier to wake up Yui-chan nowadays?"

"Yes." Ui's young face looked crestfallen, melancholic even. "But that's not the point."

"What is the point?"

Ui stared at her shoes, her brown eyes swimming in the city lights. A biting autumn wind ruffled her hair. The cacophony of cars, buses, and cityfolk blended into the background. Just as the point struck Jun, giving past events and conversations much more clarity, Ui solemnly stepped around her and continued onward. Jun ran after her and caught her by the arm. When Ui faced her once more the darker-haired girl proclaimed, "You love Yui-chan in…that way, don't you?"

By the way Ui's cheeks flushed and her mouth tightened, Jun could tell she'd hit it right on the mark. "I love her in every way," the ponytailed girl said quietly. They continued walking, Ui not daring to meet Jun's gaze.

"You love Yui-chan in that way, and you're afraid Azusa-chan will steal her from you."

That sentence caused fire to flare in Ui's head, scalding away her core of sensibility. She shoved her fists into her coat pockets, glaring. Suddenly she was as easy to read as a Dr. Seuss book. "I'm not afraid," she muttered. "I'm just worried about oneechan."

Jun snorted. "Codswallop. If you were really worried you wouldn't be going out."

"I couldn't blow you off!" Ui snapped. "Glad to see you appreciate it, though," she added snottily.

Jun could've pointed out that Ui was more than happy to blow her off last month when Yui came down with the flu. It was a good retort. But a better part of her told her not to say that. Instead she took a more indirect approach. "Why are you yelling at me?"

"Because you're getting on my nerves." Ui's voice broke. Jun saw her gruffly dash a sleeve across her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Look. Next spring oneechan's going away to JWU. Not only will I be home alone, all by myself, but I'll have this worry that oneechan won't make it at uni."

"And what does this have to do with Azusa-chan?"

"Everything! She's making oneechan grow up too fast! Oneechan doesn't need a girlfriend. She's got me."

Jun resisted the urge to smile. "You're jealous."

"I'm not jealous," said Ui with a sense of finality, as if she never got jealous.

"Everybody gets jealous, Ui-chan."

"Not me." She scowled at Jun. "Why are you smiling?"

"Because," Jun laughed, "I've never seen you get like this. You're actually being pigheaded. Usually Azusa-chan's the stubborn one." Jun knew that last sentence would whip Ui into shape. If she was jealous of Azusa, she would not want to lower herself to the guitarist's level.

"There's nothing wrong with being jealous," Jun sighed. "I understand you're worried about your sister going away. And now with Azusa-chan getting involved with her, it seems like she's going away even sooner." Ui took a deep breath and Jun patted her shoulder. "But Yui-chan will still need you. That will never change, no matter how involved she gets with Azusa-chan. There's still room in her heart for you."

Ui's face softened and she looked at her friend appreciatively. "Thanks, Jun-chan. That really helped me."

"U-uh! Well…I…" Jun blushed and looked away. Affection only embarrassed her when it was returned. "You're welcome."

This is really bad, Azusa thought, but Yui-senpai seems pretty into it. Ui once told her that Yui always got involved with movies, no matter how terrible they were. This was true right now. Yui, looking much like an American watching the Superbowl, pumped her fists and goaded Beowulf on.

"Alright! That did it!" Yui cheered. Azusa cringed as Beowulf punched out Grendel's eardrum. Sick. To fight his enemy equally, as all noble men do, Beowulf had stripped away all his armor, weapons, and clothes. Azusa rolled her eyes as yet another prop blocked out view of the hero's pintel. Not that she much wanted to see it, but the blocks were all so lame and cheesy. A sword, a cloud of steam, someone's head. Also, the movie was clearly CG, and it wasn't just Grendel. There was something digitally unnatural about the way Beowulf and his band of Geats moved. This is why it's better to read the book, Azusa thought. Because the movie just sucks.

"Great movie, huh, Azu-nyan?" Smiling brightly, Yui looked at her kouhai friend. The two of them were sitting on the floor, their backs to the couch.

"I'm sorry, but no," Azusa responded, pursing her lips. "It's just…stupid. It doesn't do the book any justice."

"Oh." At first Yui looked disappointed that the black-haired girl didn't share her enthusiasm for Beowulf the movie. Then she smiled and spoke, "So the book's better, huh?"

Azusa's burgundy eyes flicked away. "It probably is…" She was currently enrolled in American Lit — she had taken Japanese Lit last year — and the only decent movie she'd seen which was adapted from a book was Of Mice and Men.

"Ricchan says a lot of great literature is overrated," said Yui conversationally. "She hated Chaucer's Canterbury Tales."

The kouhai snorted. "That's because Ritsu-senpai thinks Akamatsu Ken is one of the cornerstones of Japanese literature. I'll bet she never even read anything by Ariyoshi Sawako or Abe Koubou."

"Mehh," Yui shrugged. "Who am I to expect everything out of one book or movie?"

Azusa regarded the TV screen, contemplating what the older girl had said. Who are any of us to expect everything? Was she, Nakano Azusa, arrogant for expecting Beowulf the movie to be Oscar material? Beowulf the book never won any awards.

She shook her head. Good God, look at me hanging on to everything this goofball says. She's the one who got a cold last year from wearing a spring yukata in the dead of winter. Without turning her head, she looked at Yui. The senpai was paying rapt attention to the encounter with Grendel's mother (who, Azusa noted with some amusement, was played by Angelina Jolie). Who am I to expect anything more from Yui-senpai? Azusa smiled, thinking, Yui-senpai has everything I need. I'm studious and she's laidback. Maybe we complete each other.

Yui giggled and her cheeks pinkened. "Azu-nyan, you're staring at me again."

"G-gomenasai!" Azusa squeaked, looking away.

Now it was Yui's turn to stare. Her father used to say that each track in Yui's mind ran maybe three seconds at most. Only this time the senpai's disconcertian did not dwindle. Every beat of her heart renewed the embarrassment afresh. I've never felt this way, she thought, touching her warm cheeks.

"Why are you staring at me?" Azusa squawked, scooting away a little.

"I'm…embarrassed…?"

"That's a reason to stop staring at me, Yui-senpai." Blushing, Azusa glowered at the TV. She didn't even know what was happening in the movie anymore. It's a crappy movie anyway. Her heart and stomach were acting up again. Azusa realized how badly she wanted to tell Yui about this feeling. Maybe the senpai was feeling the same way; she'd said she was embarrassed. That we're feeling the same way at the same time, the pigtailed girl thought, what does that mean?

That mental proof she'd worked out last week in geometry didn't lie.

Are we in love?

Azusa gasped and her eyes widened. Love. Terrified, she tried to push that word away, but it hung on like a pushy cat in your lap. The kouhai had always prided herself in being more rational than yer average. She could never be so frivolous as to fall in love.

And besides, Yui-senpai's a girl. This sort of stuff just doesn't happen! But Azusa knew it did. She remembered running an errand with her father to the hardware store, where they'd seen an eccentric woman who was pierced, tatted up, had pixie-short hair and lumbered around in a plaid flannel shirt. Azusa and Mr. Nakano had drawn their own conclusions about this woman — he had called her a dyke.

Fear beset every inch of Azusa's body and she shuddered. I am just like that woman! She pictured herself with short hair and flannel. The image horrified her more than that of Beowulf punching out Grendel's eardrum.

Yui cocked her head, watching Azusa shudder. The younger girl looked absolutely shell-shocked by something. Poor Azu-nyan, she thought, her fiery heart warming up for the kouhai. She's always so stressed out. Fortunately Yui knew how to make her relax. She inched closer to Azusa and wrapped her arms around her. Before Azusa knew it, the shuddering had stopped. She relaxed her shoulders. It was distressing, though, that she had calmed down. The only reason I calm down for her is because…is because…I'm gay for her!

"This so is not right," the kouhai grunted.

"What's not right?" Yui whispered.

"What I'm feeling right now."

The senpai sucked in her breath, feeling her heart accelerate. Zero to sixty was an understatement. She had a fierce anticipation for what was coming. It both excited her and frightened her. She pulled Azusa closer, finding comfort in how soft and cuddly her guitarist friend was.

"Yui," Azusa said quietly. 'Why do you always hug me?"

Little did she know, she was playing the game, moving her trusty queen-piece into play. Yui was in check.

Her heart still racing, Yui smiled, "Because you're so cute, Azu-nyan." Out of check.

"Really? Because lately I've thought there was another reason." Azusa shifted a bit so she was facing Yui. She brought her arms up around the senpai's shoulders. "The same reason, in fact, that you make me feel so relaxed." Rationality betrayed the second year in favor of emotion, which reached up through her chest and into her throat. "Please, Yui…senpai." It had struck her to call the brunette 'Yui-chan,' and that startled her. "Let's stop playing games and be honest."

"What are you saying, Azu-nyan?"

"I'm saying…" Azusa squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them they swam in the TV light. She couldn't do this. She couldn't say it. "I know I was not very friendly when we first met. You were nice to me and I was not nice back. And that probably made you think that I didn't…that I wasn't…"

This was hopeless. Her heart was pounding hard and fast. She wasn't getting enough air. Her small hands twitched spasmodically.

"You maybe thought that I didn't like you, but the thing is…"

Oh, God. She was going to suffocate in the middle of her confession. Was that possible?

"But the thing is, maybe I didn't mean that at all. Maybe it turned out to mean…the completely opposite thing." Was she still speaking Japanese? Were sentences coming together?

"So, what I'm saying is, I wish I hadn't acted that way toward you. I wish I hadn't acted like I didn't love you or didn't care, because I really do…I really do…not feel like I seemed I might feel."

She looked at Yui with pleading eyes. She had tried, she really had. She was afraid it was the best she could do.

Yui's eyes were as full as Azusa's. "Azu-nyan…" She seemed to understand it was the best the kouhai could do. Azusa could smell her florid sweet girl smell. She felt like she might faint.

Yui's face was right there, beautiful and shadowy in the flickering light. Her lips were right there. With a courage possessed somewhere not within her body, Azusa leaned forward ever so slightly and kissed Yui. It was a kiss and a question.

The senpai answered the question by pulling Azusa closer. The two of them clinched, pressing their faces and chests and thighs together. Yui tilted her head, deepening the kiss. Azusa was shuddering again, but this time for a completely different reason. A falsetto groan escaped her throat, muffled by Yui's mouth. On the TV a battle raged, but both girls were oblivious. They could only hear each other. They could only smell, taste, and feel each other.

Out of a need to breathe, they broke off the kiss. A string of saliva was the only thing connecting them — it was difficult to tell where Azusa's ended and Yui's began. The kougai in her storm of emotions expected Yui to maybe crow something about how much fun kissing was. But actually the senpai looked how she felt: pleasantly stunned. I've never been this in sync with someone. Still shaking with pent-up emotion, Azusa rested her head on Yui's shoulder. The brunette sighed and leaned into her, her shiny brown eyes focused on the TV screen without seeing it. This experience and these feelings were beyond her usual actions and words. For the first time, she didn't know what to say.

"I never…I never…"

"Me neither," Azusa whispered.

Yui smiled, and her shock melted away. In its place burned such intense fiery passion that the senpai could hardly sit still. She started giggling. It occurred to her that Azusa had that same passion burning in her, but she was trying to keep a rein on it.

"What's so funny?" Azusa queried softly.

But Yui kept giggling, unable to work up a response. Her mirth confused and eventually enraged Azusa.

"Oi! How can you act in such a way after we…after we…" She gulped and lowered her chin.

"I don't know…Heeheehee…I'm just happy, I guess. Aren't you?"

"Of course I am!" But Azusa knew what Yui meant. Love didn't have to be serious all the time. Her shuddering seemed to dissipate and she found herself laughing as well. I can't believe she loves me after that confession! I probably looked and sounded like I was going to die! She laughed harder.

It had taken a week full of doubt and fear, but Azusa realized what the game was. It wasn't something people won or lost. It was something you played just for the fun of playing.

RECORDING

Chapter Eleven

The One

Mr. Tainaka's mouth tightened at the sight of Tokudaiji, his daughter's psychology teacher. He was much younger than Mr. Tainaka, skinnier, and had more hair on his head. Tokudaiji had bulging blue hypnotic eyes and a semi-permanent frown on his face. He was dressed really nice, too. Mr. Tainaka wished he had something nicer to wear.

"Tokudaiji-san! I am truly sorry!" He started bowing frantically. "Trust me and my wife, we did not raise our daughter to behave that way!"

"No hard feelings, Tainaka-san," Tokudaiji said softly. He sounded uncomfortable.

"Just so you know," Mr. Tainaka continued, "we punished her. Severely. She's learned her lesson. But you may also punish her any way you see fit!"

Tokudaiji shook his head. "I didn't punish her. Ritsu-san's actually a very pleasant girl and a...decent if not laidback student."

Mrs. Tainaka smiled. "Really? Well, we're very happy to hear that." She wondered why she and her husband were here. Did Tokudaiji-san really have us come all the way to Sakura High School to tell them that Ritsu was a nice girl? "Is she doing okay in class? She never really tells us, so..."

"She does fairly well. She's a lot more outspoken than the others. She gets an A for participation. She's missing quite a few homework assignments, though, and those add up."

"Ah, sorry. Can she make those up somehow? Maybe do some extra credit work?"

"Maybe." Tokudaiji sighed, his face turned thoughtfully toward the ceiling. Then he addressed the parents again, looking for all in the world like U.S. President Obama reading off his teleprompters. "I'll be honest. The issue here isn't your daughter, really. It's more Akiyama-san."

"Mio-chan?" Mrs. Tainaka blinked. "Well, then, why didn't you call her parents? Why are we here?"

"It's the issue Ritsu-san has with Akiyama-san."

Mrs. Tainaka was really confused. What issue would Ritsu have with Mio? They were thick as thieves, the two of them. They could tease each other as harshly as they wanted to, and it was okay.

"Are you talking about how Ritsu teases Mio-chan? That's just what they do."

"Hm, yes. 'Teasing,' we could call it that..."

"Call what that?" Mr. Tainaka asked. He noticed Tokudaiji flinch when he spoke. The psychology teacher sounded confident enough when speaking to Mrs. Tainaka. Now that confidence shriveled up like a raisin in the sun.

"Ritsu-san's very aggressive when it comes to her...devotion to Akiyama-san. It was that very devotion, that unnatural attraction between two girl friends, that pushed her to say such crass things to me."

Mr. Tainaka's eyebrows knitted. He felt like he was missing something. Tokudaiji, he was quickly figuring out, was full of empty confidence. The poor bastard probably had nothing to live for save for the oblique sentences he tossed out. Mr. Tainaka hated to think that Tokudaiji may have been taking his anger about his shortcomings out on Ritsu. He didn't disagree with the psych teacher about Ritsu being devoted to Mio. It was the 'unnatural affection' and 'teasing' bits he didn't care for. Perhaps this was a more-than-platonic affection? And what about the teasing? A voice in the back of Mr. Tainaka's mind whispered, The very same teasing that pushed you and your wife to make Ritsu and Satoshi.

"Are you saying my daughter's a lesbian?" The words ripped from the old man's mouth in an angry roar. Tokudaiji squeaked frightfully and scooted his computer chair back against the wall. Encouraged by the teacher's milksoppery, Mr. Tainaka stood and leaned his powerful hands against the desk. "How dare you!"

"Uh, honey...?" Mrs. Tainaka whispered, touching his arm. Her husband, however, couldn't be stopped. He was, after all, where Ritsu got her temper from.

"How dare you disturb mine and my wife's relaxing day, pull us all the way out here just to tell us that our only daughter is a...is a...HOW DARE YOU!" He could feel hot pressure squeezing his head. He raised a fist. "I oughta punch your lights out, you creep!"

Tokudaiji's hands flew up to cover his face. He crunched his little shoulders up to his head. Suddenly Mr. Tainaka felt some of his anger dissipate. How pathetic, he thought, watching Tokudaiji cower in his chair. I can't hit this guy.

The psych teacher, seeing Mr. Tainaka relax his stance, smirked. "But I see you're not going to 'punch my lights out,' as you so crudely put it. I figured you were nought but talk."

"Slander my daughter and you might not talk again," the old man snarled. He laughed humorlessly. "And I figured you fought like a girl. Let's go," he snapped at Mrs. Tainaka, who promptly jumped up.

After they left Tokudaiji snorted like a scrawny cat that was beaten in a brawl. What a nice family, he thought. Probably should've called in Akiyama-san's family. If her father's anything like her, he probably would've been easier to deal with.

Mio's heart thundered as she watched Ritsu pace in front of the couch. The drummer had turned the lights on, making it all the easier to see her nervous silouhette. Mio didn't know what Ritsu was so anxious about telling her, but she knew it had to be the most important thing in their lives. The bassist just wished Ritsu could work up her nerve faster.

"Would you like to sit?" Mio offered.

"I don't think I can," Ritsu gasped. She was pacing an ultra-tight circle now. Watching her made the raven-haired girl dizzy.

"You don't have to be so nervous, Ritsu," she smiled. "It's just me."

No, it's not just you. You are so much more than just you. Ritsu's head was pounding heatedly. Her headband was squeezing it too tight. Even though her blazer was unbuttoned it still hung onto her, weighing down her shoulders, making it difficult to breathe. She took it off and threw it on the floor.

I wonder if she's pregnant? Mio thought. She'd watched a program on teenage pregnancy. There was a girl on the program who was so freaked out that she told absolutely no one. But she's probably not. If she had been sleeping with someone, she would've told me.

"Ritsu, what you want to tell me...it can't be worse than when I told you I threw a hammer through old man Wanatabe's window."

The drummer giggled, recalling that memory. Thirteen-year-old Mio running up to her, tearful, crying, "I threw a hammer at Wanatabe-jiichan!" Mio throwing a hammer. Ritsu had always wished she could have been there to see that. And what about the time she yelled at that one girl for putting my sticks through a pencil sharpener? That was hilarious. Ritsu was genuinely and fully laughing right now, and Mio was laughing with her. Good times. Such great times. The brunette was afraid that there would be no more good times with Mio if she told her the truth. She would never get to talk to Mio, make her laugh, tease her, see her frightened face, or get punched by her ever again.

"Oh, I can't do this..." she whimpered. She sank to a crouch on the floor. Her vision bended and blurred, and her head grew hot. She didn't want to cry in front of Mio, but she couldn't help herself. Ritsu was so consumed with misery that she wouldn't have been able to notice a dinosaur passing through her living room, let alone Mio crouching in front of her.

"Shh, it's okay." The bassist placed a gentle hand atop Ritsu's head.

"It's not okay," the drummer whimpered. Her inhibitions were being shed with her tears, such as it was when Ritsu cried with such abandon. It was going to come out, all of it, in the most inconvenient and ridiculous way. "It's really not okay, Mio!"

"Please, tell me." Ritsu gasped when she heard her friend snuffle. She hoped and wished she had imagined it. "You've had me worried all week, and I just..." Mio's alto voice faltered, and then buckled completely. "...can't take it anymore."

Ritsu forced herself to look at her best friend's gloomy face, her dove-colored eyes glimmering with tears. This wasn't cutesy crying. This was not moe-moe-kyuun. This was outright horrible. And it was the drummer's fault. I made Mio cry.

"I mean," Mio wept, "I know you were sad and everything, but..." She squeezed her eyes shut, unleashing another round of sobbing. Enormous tears squeezed out from her closed eyes and spilled down her cheeks. "...did you ever," she gulped, "stop to think about how I was feeling?"

No, I hadn't, Ritsu realized. She was so preoccupied with loving Mio and trying to sort out these complicated new emotions that she'd turned a blind eye to the object of her affections. The drummer was baffled. Love was supposed to be about going out of your way to do anything and everything for the person you loved. How could I be so selfish? "I'm sorry, Mio."

"It's alright," the bassist sniffled, looking away.

"I'm really, really sorry. I shouldn't have ignored your feelings the way I did. I don't want to do that to you, Mio."

"You don't have to apologize. Just please tell me what's wrong. I can help you."

Ritsu had a choice. She could muddle things up more, say, "No, you can't help me," and make Mio more worried and miserable. Or she could just face it. She could just march right into the ugly middle. If you don't, she told herself, you'll end up flat against the wall, creeping fearfully around the edge your whole life.

Her head was going to explode. She could feel that stupid headband muscling all of last week's pain and heartache into a solid core of agony in her forehead. She imagined it closing off much-needed arteries and veins in her brain. Could a girl suffer a stroke from wearing a too-tight headband? Ritsu frantically tore it off and flung it across the room. She could hear it knocking sharply off the farthest wall. However, she could not see it, for a sudden cascade of fuscous hair descended on her vision. She made no effort to part her bangs, just let them drape over her ocher eyes. She felt safer this way.

"The reason I've been acting this way..." She said it fast so she wouldn't be able to stop. "...is because last week I found out I like girls."

Ritsu couldn't see Mio's reaction, but she could hear it. The bassist's breathing was still erratic from crying, but it seemed to have calmed down a little. The drummer was overcome by intense fear and curiosity. She parted her bangs and looked at Mio. Her friend's blue-gray eyes glistened, but there were no tears.

"That was what...you were freaking out about...?" Mio asked softly.

Ritsu nodded. Well, that was only part of what had her freaked out.

Mio sighed with relief, resting her chin on her knees. So...No one died. Nobody was pregnant. Ritsu was having issues with her identity. Mio remembered what that felt like. She remembered sitting up at night, trying to discredit her sneaking fears that she was homosexual until she had run out of ways to discredit them. She remembered wanting to tell someone, to make it official, but it had been too scary. Her parents were loving and supportive, but they were also conservative. Mio remembered the deep sense of fraudulence listening to her mother talk about boys when the bassist had no interest in them. She oddly remembered Ritsu making no mention whatsoever of boys either. Mio and Ritsu were the only ones they had in each other's lives.

Mio spoke up. "That must have been insanely difficult for you to cope with."

The drummer exhaled and brushed her tears off her face. "You have no idea..."

"Yes, I do."

Ritsu looked up. Under her shadow of bangs Mio saw her hazel eyes glint with intrigue. "You do?"

Mio smiled wistfully. "I've wanted to tell someone what you just told me for years."

"Years?" the drummer exclaimed, her eyes wide. She parted her bangs into a cowlick. She felt a little ridiculous now with them down. She had always thought she looked like a bald man with a comb-over with them down. "How many years?"

Mio's eyes flickered toward the ceiling. The fact that she had to stop and think about it was appalling to Ritsu. "Maybe like four. Something like that."

The noir-haired girl watched as Ritsu settled into a sort of gloom. The drummer's eyes were hooded, and she stared broodily at the floor. She mashed her lips together and sighed.

"What's wrong?" Mio asked.

"I feel stupid. You've kept this to yourself for four years without shedding a tear, and here I am throwing a fit over one dumb little week." Mio opened her mouth to say something, but Ritsu continued, "I wasn't even aware that you were grappling with such a thing. And you did everything for me in my time of need." The tears came back to the drummer's round eyes; they glittered with them. "I'm such a terrible, selfish, stupid-"

"Stop. Please." Mio's eyes were shut tight. She appeared to be suffering. "You're not terrible or selfish or stupid. You were scared. I've been there before and you know it."

Ritsu would've cracked a joke about Mio being scared if what the bassist had said didn't sound so true. Maybe I was a little scared. Usually the drummer registered that things were scary before she felt scared. This time it was the opposite. And this time Mio was comforting Ritsu.

"Fear is such an irrational thing," the raven-haired girl said thoughtfully. "You could give up anything to send something scary away from you." She paused. "Say, do you remember when we went to that amusement park and I was afraid to get on that roller coaster?"

Ritsu nodded. They were ten when the brunette goaded Mio into riding the Baka Oni, which was the Japanese roller coaster equivalent of the Raging Bull at Six Flags Great America.

"Do you remember what you told me as we got on?"

The drummer really had to rack her brain for that memory. All she could remember about the Baka Oni was laughing at the picture of Mio one of the ride's stationary cameras had taken. Ritsu shook her head; she could not remember what she had said.

"The flip-side of fear is excitement."

Oh yeah. Suddenly memories of crazy stunts flooded Ritsu. Sliding down a rail at school. Teasing the neighbors' pitbull. Trying to crawl on top of the rungs of the monkey bars. Mio was horrified by these antics, but Ritsu got a rush out of them.

Maybe I could get a rush out of telling Mio how I really feel.

"Mio," she said slowly, "there's kinda something else that's had me scared."

"I had a feeling it wasn't just that," the bassist sighed. She tilted her head, resting her cheek on her knee. Ritsu looks so cute without her headband. For as long as Mio had known her, the drummer had always been very laidback - except for her headband. Ritsu always adamantly refused to be seen with her bangs down. Even at sleepovers Ritsu would sooner tie her bangs up and adopt the Pebbles Flintstone look than leave them down. She's so vain and conceited when it comes to her hair. That's kinda funny. Mio wondered why Ritsu didn't care much about her bangs now.

Presently the drummer awkwardly played with the hem of her skirt. She was blushing. "I kinda...love ...someone."

"You love someone?" Mio echoed in an excited voice. She smiled hugely. She was happy for her friend. She loved it that Ritsu loved someone. This was a problem the raven-haired bass player was more than eager to help with. Ritsu's never been so...tender and cautious when it comes to love. She might be more uptight than I thought. "Who is it?"

Ritsu averted her eyes and chewed the inside of her cheek. The headache was back full-force, but at least the headband wasn't containing it. She was scared again. Mio might have been alright with the coming out. But the winds could change once she found out she was the one Ritsu was gay for.

"I-it's..." she began hesitantly. Her voice was raw with agony. "It's y...y...y..."

"Yui?" Mio exclaimed and Ritsu flinched at how loud her normally quiet friend was. Grinning excitedly, Mio brought a fist to her palm. "That makes a lot of sense. You two would be great together." She made her wise eyebrows. "Heheh. I'd like to see what you guys' lack of organizational abilities would do to your future home." Then Mio was back to fussing about ecstatically. "And Yui's super-nice, so even if she doesn't love you back, she'll-"

"Get a grip, Mio! It's not Yui-chan!" Ritsu could feel that old buzz of energy in her limbs: the first familiar feeling she'd had all night. She was getting restless from dragging this out and beating around the bush. It was time to move on, with or without Mio by her side. Pushing her bangs away, for it was time to stop hiding in them like a coward, she cried, "I was trying to say that it's you that I love! You, Mio! Okay?"

She was still a coward, she decided, and let her tawny bangs fall back over her terrified topaz eyes. Now hailed the official grace period. Would Mio accept her feelings? Reject them? Return them? Ritsu was wishing she hadn't thrown away her headband now. How in the world could Mio bring herself to love the short girl with the funny comb-over bangs?

Mio's reaction was limited to one word, but Ritsu could hear the emotions that anchored her voice. "...Me?"

"Yes." Ritsu pushed her bangs back again, but stared at the floor. She waited for the bassist to say something. Knowing timid Mio, the drummer could be waiting for a week. Driven by her usual zippy impatience, she continued, "I think I always have, and I'm just now realizing it. That was why I always picked on you in primary school. Because I didn't know what else to do." Her hands were falling asleep. She readjusted them on her head. "You were always so...industrious and smart and pretty." All things that I'm not. I knew this was a bad idea. "A-and, uh...I realize that because of these aforementioned traits, you could have any girl you wanted...but I really just want you to have me." Her hands were completely numb and heavy. They felt like a dead person's hands. Ritsu forced herself to look at Mio, right at her pearly eyes. "In the band you're always the perfectionist - and I know you always have been. And I wonder if you ever get tired of standing so tall. I...I want to be the one to catch you if you fall." Those could be good lines for a song. "But...if you don't feel that way for me..." Oh God, this was so hard. "...I don't want us to stop being friends. I can't help how I feel about you, but we shouldn't - HUH?" she gasped, feeling Mio's hand on hers. The bassist was pushing Ritsu's hand away from her bangs, letting them fall. The skin-to-skin contact was titillating. Mio's hands were soft and gentle, but cold.

"Ricchan, I'm so sorry..." The bass player's voice was a choked whisper.

"Why are you apologizing?" Ritsu inquired. She also wanted to know why Mio was calling her by her childhood nickname.

"I've hurt you so much." The raven-haired girl brought a hand to her face. Her fingers slid across her moist eyelids until they were pinching the bridge of her nose. "I didn't know you were so scared and miserable for the last week because of me. If I'd known, I'd have...I'd have..."

"You'd have what?" Ritsu whispered, anxious for the answer.

Mio looked at Ritsu. Her slate-colored eyes were warmer and fuller than both their hearts put together. "I'd have answered your feelings sooner."

"A-answered them how...?"

She was adorable with her bangs down. Mio was struck with the urge to ruffle them. Smiling, she responded, "Answered them...something like this..." She leaned forward. Ritsu's heart launched into spin cycle. The drummer inclined her head toward Mio. She couldn't believe it. What she had wanted and needed but feared she would not get was about to happen. Mio's long pigeon-soft coal locks fell forward, touching Ritsu's face ever so gently. The drummer's head was in a whirl. She now had more energy than she knew what to do with.

At the moment supreme, however, Mio hesitated. It wasn't that she didn't want to kiss Ritsu. Actually, she wanted to very badly. It was just that she'd lost her nerve. So instead she cupped the drummer's face with one hand and planted a warm, passionate kiss on her cheek, right next to her mouth. A panicked purr fluttered from Ritsu's lips. It wasn't a lip-to-lip kiss, but it still sent her exuberant heart up over the moon. Her joy could've sent her beyond Pluto ten times. Even after Mio broke her kiss her face lingered next to Ritsu's. The brunette never in her life imagined she could feel so satisfied from such a pure gesture.

Mio's face glowed pleasantly as she finally pulled back. Smiling, she traced her left hand lightly up Ritsu's cheek through her bangs. "Maybe I've always loved you, too," she speculated softly. "We all need that person in our lives...That person who does more than complete you. That person who...who surprises and amazes you everyday. That person who stays with you no matter how bad you are or how tough the going is." Mio pushed Ritsu's bangs back, rubbing her head and exposing her swimming hazel eyes. "You're that person to me. You always have been." She leaned forward and smooched Ritsu's forehead. "You always will be." When she pulled back Ritsu could feel a torrent of love and affection beating from Mio's heart to hers. The bassist's ultramarine eyes expressed something more artistic, more poetic and lyrical than all the songs she had written. "You're the one, Ritsu."

"M-Mio..." The drummer had never heard her best friend say such incredible things. Mio was right about the one surprising you everyday. She had surprised Ritsu three times tonight.

Usually in situations like this Ritsu would make fun of Mio. Now she was speechless. That was another thing about the one person in your life: he or she could make you surprise yourself.

Mio stood up then, and readjusted her clothes. Then she gave Ritsu her hand and helped her up. The room was utterly silent as they faced each other, but their thoughts and their emotions filled their heads. It was the loudest silence either of them had ever heard. Ritsu wasn't aware that Mio was still holding her hand until the raven-haired girl slid her own hand up the drummer's arm until she was cupping her elbow. The gesture conveyed more tenderness and affection than Ritsu could even comprehend. She found herself melting into Mio, and let the taller girl take her in and surround her powerfully. There was suddenly no doubt, no fear, no questions. Just white noise.

"Do you want to go upstairs?" Mio asked. She heard a sharp intake of breath, felt Ritsu stiffen, and she laughed. Lightly rapping her knuckles against the drummer's head, she giggled, "Get your mind out of the gutter, Ricchan. I'd just rather have some privacy in case Sato-kun or your parents come home."

"P-privacy for what?" Ritsu stuttered.

"Just talking." Mio couldn't help laughing. It was just so cute, how nervous Ritsu was getting. "You don't want your family to see us like this, do you?"

Ritsu shook her head. No, she didn't. They would freak. Big time. But this seemed kind of like the milestone her mother would want to know about: when her daughter started dating. Should I tell Mom about this? Ritsu's heart, which had been soaring high moments before, crashed within the pits of her chest. That was a troubling thought. Mr. and Mrs. Tainaka loved Ritsu and Mio together, but they wouldn't love Ritsu and Mio together. The drummer opened her mouth to voice this qualm, but reconsidered. The two of them had been through enough to get to this point. They deserved the rest of the night to be happy.

"Hey," Ritsu grinned as they bounded up the stairs. "You called me Ricchan."

Mio's eyebrows slanted and her cheeks pinkened. "Er, yeah."

"You haven't called me that since we grew up." The drummer hugged her girlfriend's arm. "Will you call me that more often?"

The bass player was still blushing, but she smirked. "Only if you agree not to wear that headband as much."

For the first time in a while Ritsu was conscious of how her bangs fell over her eyes. She sheepishly pushed them back, gulping, "Never!" Then she back-tracked, "Wait. Do you actually like my hair down?"

"Yeah, I do," Mio nodded. She started giggling. "Not that you don't look seriously cute and funny trying to manually hold it back."

"Oi...!" Flustered, Ritsu brought her hands back down. Her bangs tumbled back down in their touseled way. She cocked her head. "Why the hell do you like my hair this way? It looks silly."

"No. Not silly at all." Mio came in close and rested her head against Ritsu's. "I can't describe it, but you look just adorable. You know? Charming."

"Hmph. Well, if you like it..."

They went into Ritsu's room. They laid side-by-side on the drummer's bed, flipping through a yearbook from their first year at Sakura High School and laughing over old times. It was just like before, only this time Ritsu could feel Mio rubbing a foot affectionately against hers. She found that both stimulating and relaxing.

Mio tilted her head, beaming as she studied her best friend's laughing face. She is awesome, she thought appreciatively. She wished she hadn't gotten scared earlier, when she was trying to kiss Ritsu. It had taken a lot of courage to say all those things, things that Mio had taken four years to work up the nerve to say. Ritsu deserved a good kiss on the mouth. She looks so happy. The bassist wanted to make her happier.

"Hey, Ricchan."

"Yeah?" Ritsu looked up.

Without hesitation, Mio leaned in and kissed the drummer deeply. It was such a kiss. It felt so good that it hurt when Mio pulled back, her eyes shining.

"W-what was that for?" Ritsu stuttered.

"For staying by my side all these years." Smiling, Mio nuzzled her girlfriend. "This is for being such a good friend." She gave Ritsu another, longer-lasting kiss. The bassist hummed sweetly. Then she rolled onto her side and the drummer cuddled up against her. It was late and the two of them were exhausted enough to sleep for a month. Somewhere between that moment and the start of her dream Ritsu could hear a line from a song she liked.

All your life you've been waiting for this moment to be free.

RECORDING

Chapter Twelve

Marble House

Sawako squeaked, feeling the floor start to slip out from under her. She placed a hand on the wall to steady herself. It was a situation like this in which she would bellow, "Whose goddamn idea was this?" However, the question more implied, "Why was this suggested?" Sawako knew who had suggested ice skating (herself) and why she chose it (to take her mind off Mugi and Tokudaiji). She hung on to the wall, content to watch the other people skate.

She heard the trademark roar of someone halting on the rockers next to her. Cautious to move her body lest she should fall, Sawako turned her head to find Mugi standing beside her. The blonde keyboardist's chest heaved with every big breath she took. Her cheeks were rosy from effort. "This takes me back," she gasped, leaning wearily against the wall. "Why aren't you out there?"

Sawako blushed and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "No reason…I'm, uh, taking a break! Like you, y'know? Heheh."

Mugi smiled. She knew Sawako couldn't actually skate. She'd brought her here to make up for the coffee. Edging closer to the sensei on her skates, Mugi asked softly, "Do you have an elastic on you?"

Sawako paused before fishing through her coat pockets. She was known to carry random miscellaneous things in her pockets. Once she had found her lucky pencil from high school which she'd lost right before her finals. Sure enough, there was a glittery blue hairtie in her left coat pocket. Sawako handed it to Mugi; a sharp intake of breath as their hands touched.

Holding the elastic in her mouth, Tsumugi gathered her jaune locks at the back of her head. She then looped the hairtie about her ponytail a couple times. It wasn't a severe ponytail; a few amber tresses framed her round face. Sawako couldn't help but notice how well the blue elastic complemented — no, beautified — her hair. As a bonus, it really brought out her cerulean eyes. Mugi noticed Sawako staring, and smiled, her hooded eyes full. She edged closer still and placed her left hand on the older woman's shoulder. Her right hand strayed up Sawako's neck, pausing on her cheek. Her eyes never once wavered or strayed from the teacher's. She possessed a new kind of confidence, a deliberateness. Sawako felt both nervous and eerily calm.

So the sensei stood still, looking into the keyboardist's eyes. She didn't kiss Sawako or anything like that. But what she did felt as shockingly intimate. The first three fingers of her right hand slid upwards to smooth a rumple of consternation in the center of Sawako's forehead.

"Watch this," Mugi whispered softly.

Sawako complied.

Mugi detached herself from the teacher and drifted backwards on the ice. Sawako's face suddenly felt cold where the blonde's warm hand had once been. She watched as Mugi impetuously dashed out to the center of the rink, her flaxen hair flashing in the light like liquid gold. The next thing that happened, Sawako couldn't rightly explain it or find the proper adjective to describe how she felt. It was so unexpected. Mugi seemed to catch the ice with the toepic on her right skate; then she lunged maybe three feet into the air and lutzed. The lutz was so quick and controlled, the landing so graceful, that Mugi almost seemed a little ethereal to Sawako. It was boggling to think that such beauty existed in this world, and that it had touched her face not moments before.

The other people in the rink stared in awe; some even clapped. Mugi teetered slightly from dizziness before making her way back to Sawako. The teacher had too much to say and couldn't say anything at the same time.

Mugi leaned against the wall. "I'm losing my touch, I guess."

"Are you nuts? That was amazing!" Sawako exploded.

The keyboardist started at the abrupt outburst. Then she smiled sheepishly and put her arm behind her head. "Thank you…I, uh, used to figure skate when I was little."

Sawako shook her head, still bewildered by the stunt which she had only seen on the Winter Olympics from the comfort of her living room TV. Actually, what Mugi just did was far better than some of the shit routines Sawako had seen during the Olympics. She remembered one flambuoyant American competitor whose routine included no lunges or lutzes or anything. He had taken bronze. If Mugi were to compete, Sawako would give her gold. She would give her platinum if that was possible.

"How…long did you skate for?" she finally asked.

Mugi's eyes flicked away as she tried to remember. "Five years. I started when I was five, and stopped when I was ten."

"Why did you stop?"

Mugi shrugged. "I got tired of it," she stated simply.

Sawako could understand this. There were the things you enjoyed doing, and there were the things you were good at. However, it seemed like Mugi was good at damn near everything.

"Can we go?" Sawako asked suddenly.

Mugi didn't look bothered by the request. "Go where?"

"Anywhere. I need to talk to you."

The keyboardist didn't protest or call attention to how skittish Sawako plainly was. They returned the rental skates, and then the teacher led Mugi into the fresh autumn night. In forty-five minutes it would be November. Sawako kept walking and walking, faster and faster, until Mugi was jogging to keep up with her. She couldn't help it; she was a woman on the run. She was on the run from this new thing that was blossoming between them. She could no longer ignore it. Even Mugi was aware of it, as she had so daringly expressed back at the ice rink.

She's incredible, Sawako thought, and not just in that she's so unbelievably talented. The teacher was more thinking back to what Mugi had said during her "detention." Here she is, nine years younger than me, and she's able to bluntly express feelings which I never could with previous boyfriends. Sawako looked at Mugi, wondering, Has she always felt this way?

Mugi was trotting beside Sawako, her breath blasting from her mouth in feathery puffs. She didn't complain, but she was clearly tired from running. I've never known somebody who could be so brave and yet so easy-going. Why did I avoid talking to her for so long? Smiling, Sawako caught Mugi's left hand in the running backswing and held it. The blonde kept her face forward, still panting, but Sawako saw the corners of her mouth turn up. She slowed down until they were walking, much to Mugi's relief. The two of them passed some warehouses on the outskirts of the city.

Well, here it was. They had gotten coffee, ice skated, and now they were holding hands. It was, more or less, a date. Their professional relationship merely fuzzed around the edges. Should I kiss her?

Healthy relationships were about both people standing equal to each other. But Sawako was a teacher and Mugi was her student. That wasn't fair or equal. That situation is only temporary, though.

The warehouses petered away into a thin forest. Sawako felt the jerk of Mugi's hand as the blonde hesitated at its fringe. The teacher turned to look at her. Mugi's azure eyes and the hairtie sparkled in the starlight. The hesitation was brief, though, and she continued onward; she was moving faster than Sawako this time. Smiling vibrantly, she told the teacher over her shoulder, "I know this forest. There's a place we can go."

It stood to reason that Mugi knew this city in and out, back and forth. It was her hometown. Between the coffee shop and the ice rink, Sawako had seen most of the city. Everytime they passed a fancy subdivision, she wondered if this was where Mugi lived.

They were on a path, the two of them. But, Sawako realized, it was not a bike path like she had frequently rode on while growing up. It was more suited to cars than hikers and bikers. And the forest was so sparse. There were no animals, save for the occasional bird. Sawako was getting the feeling that these woods were private property…

She halted abruptly.

"What's up, Sawa-chan?" Mugi queried.

"You live here, don't you?" Sawako asked slowly. Then, more quickly: "You're taking me to your house, aren't you?"

The keyboardist smiled and squeezed the teacher's hand. "Yeah, I am." As they continued onward, Sawako beside herself with anticipation and curiosity, Mugi explained the history of her home.

"The Kotobuki mansion has been home to ten generations of my family. I don't know why it was built out in the sticks — maybe at the time the city was larger. Or this location was better for great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandpa Kotobuki Taizo's own purposes. I've heard stories about him being an agoraphobic hermit." She giggled. "Father talks about Taizo-jiisan as if he knows him." Based on the stories, Mugi could only marvel at how similar Taizo and her father seemed. "He was a philosopher. He had the signature Kotobuki above-average temperature. And the eyebrows."

"And your father's a…conglomerate owner?"

Mugi nodded. "A bit rare in our family. Most people in our family either go into art or metaphysics. Kotobuki Munetaka was an astrologer who published three books on the subject. Kotobuki Takao was a painter. Kotobuki Hitoshi was a concert harpist." She blushed and brought a hand to her mouth. "I'm sorry. Am I boring you?"

"Not at all," Sawako assured. She brought her other hand to Mugi's hand which she was holding. It was the only thing keeping her warm in this biting night.

"I really sound like my father, talking about family and history and such," the keyboardist continued apologetically. "And his family lectures honestly bore me, so…"

"I really don't mind. Concert harpist, huh?" Grinning, Sawako brought her hand about Mugi's shoulders. "Future generations will say, 'Kotobuki Tsumugi was a famous concert pianist.'" She paused. "That name really stands out from the pack."

"Because it's the only feminine one?" Mugi grinned. "Ten generations, and I'm the only female Kotobuki to reside in this mansion." She laughed as she always did when she thought of this. "What were you like growing up, Sawa-chan?"

"Eh? Well…My family's not very exciting. We don't have history…"

"Nonsense. Every family has history of their own." Mugi valued personal family history much more than public family history. Her parents' divorce meant so much more to her than one of Kotobuki Munetaka's books.

"Well, if you're really eager to hear it…" Sawako ducked under a low-hanging branch. The woods were thinning out more and more. "I'm one of three daughters."

"Mm. Oldest?"

"Youngest, actually."

Mugi looked at Sawako in surprise. Her parents' youngest daughter was…what? Twenty-six? Twenty-seven? "How old are your parents?" She knew it was a rude question to ask; hypocritical, too, since her father was sixty-two.

"Fifty-nine."

The keyboardist honestly tried to mask her shock, but it was in vain. Sawako noticed her astonishment and smiled. "My mother was born in Kyoto five years after World War II. My father was born in Nara."

And you said your family had no history? Kyoto and Nara were cornerstones of Japanese culture. Tsumugi wished she had relatives from those cities.

"I spent a lot of my childhood in Kyoto, visiting my mom's folks." She laughed. "I'd go there during summers and pick up the dialect from my family and friends. And I'd go back to Sakura High School, annoy my classmates with it, and it would be gone again by October."

Mugi giggled, remembering how she could mimic the dialect as well. All she had to go on it, though, were a few movies she'd seen which were set in Kyoto.

"What about your father's family?"

"Oh my God, Mugi-chan, they were friggin' weird." Sawako shielded her eyes, as though she was dazzled by their weirdness. "His parents divorced when he was, like, fifteen. He lived with his alcoholic mother. She had all these men over, and it was just creepy for him."

Mugi wanted to ask if this woman was a geisha or something. Sawako beat her to it.

"Obaa-san wasn't a prostitute. She just...had a lot of boyfriends. She's still alive," Sawako added with a hint of amazement. "She cohabits with some demented ninety-year-old guy. My dad's looking forward to the day when he finally bites it."

The keyboardist winced. "He sounds mean."

Sawako nodded. The grass was becoming lusher - much more like grass in somebody's yard than grass in a forest.

"But..." Mugi kept her eyes down as she kicked a pebble. "I...I may not approve of that, but I think I understand." She looked back up. Her bushy eyebrows furrowed over her hooded eyes, which glinted dispassionately. "I can't say I'd be happy if either of my parents remarried."

"Why?" Sawako asked the question with open awe, as a little kid would, as though she could not comprehend why remarriage angered her father and Tsumugi so.

"If either of them remarries..." Mugi paused to stare up at the sparse branches criss-crossed in the starlit velvet black sky. "If Mother or Father remarry, then they can't get back together."

"Did you think they would?"

The keyboardist remained silent. A branch snapped underneath her foot.

"C'mon, Mugi-chan, there's a reason why your parents divorced, and that reason's not going to bring them back together."

"I know, okay?" Mugi shook her head and glared at the trees. "You're the one who doesn't know what it's like..."

"I can imagine what it's like," said Sawako softly. She meant to firmly grab the blonde girl's shoulder, but ended up lightly stroking it. "To really want things to change and knowing that they can't." The sensei was a bit surprised by Mugi's sudden change in humor. She was usually such a pleasant and simple-minded girl. But then, what was a girl like that to do when she was thrown into something that was neither pleasant nor simple? "...Actually, I don't think I can imagine it." Sawako really felt horrible, like she had just tried to reduce a permanent problem into something insignificant. If someone - say, Mugi's mother - had died, Mugi and her father would go through the grieving process and eventually move on. There was no moving on from a divorce. The damage stayed after the parents were done fighting...and, unfortunately, Sawako was realizing, that was Tsumugi's cross to bear.

The teacher was overwhelmed with sorrow. She just wished she knew how to commiserate with Mugi's situation. In what twisted up world does the kid have to keep peace in a household? I wonder if her parents still fight, and if she still has to keep peace? Did she ever have to side with either one of them?

"I wish it hadn't happened to you." Sawako slid her caressing hand to the back of Mugi's neck, which was as warm if not warmer than her hands.

The aurum-haired girl's expression smoothed over, her eyebrows no longer pinched and slanted. She looked at Sawako appreciatively, and brought her hand to Sawako's arm, holding her hand to her neck. 'I wish it hadn't happened to you' carried so much more meaning than the more frequently used 'I'm sorry.' Those words and that gesture bore so much meaning that she didn't know what to say to that.

"I'm alright." Mugi didn't know if it was the right thing to say, but it had the right meaning. Liking the sound of it, she said it again. "I'm alright."

"Welcome home, ojou-sama."

Mugi gently closed the immense front doors. She had been dreading this moment more than introducing Sawako and her father. People who were not related to Mr. Kotobuki's numerous affiliates tended to feel overwhelmed by the mass greeting from the butlers.

The sensei was no exception. Her surprise was so passionate that it defied words or sound. Seeing the two wide sets of staircases extending upward to an overhang on the second floor which shadowed the entrance to a larger than life coat closet, the song title "Marble House" by the Knife leapt into Sawako's head. She had always wondered if Mugi lived in a traditional mansion or a European-styled mansion. As the butlers greeted Sawako and offered to take her jacket, she noticed some of them spoke with strange, unfamiliar accents.

"Where's my father?" Mugi queried.

"He went out to the shopping center in Kobe," a portly butler responded.

Sawako almost whistled. That's really far to go just to do some shopping!

"He left somewhere around 1900 hours, so I think he'll be home soon," the butler added.

Tsumugi stepped up next to Sawako. She detested lying, but she thought it more sensible to not let people know she had been out with her teacher. "This is my...friend from French class, Hirasawa Mikoto." She knew Yui wouldn't mind if she borrowed her last name.

Sawako played along. She bounced forward and put her hand out. "Bonsoir, monsieur. Comment t'appelles tu?"

The butler, his blue eyes wide with shock, pumped Sawako's hand once. "J-je m'appelle Denis Duvont. Enchanté." He awkwardly placed his hand behind his head. "Tu parles très bien français."

Sawako shook her head. She didn't want this Denis to think she could actually speak French. "Non, non. Je parle comme-ci, comme-ça. Mais, merci beaucoup."

Mugi's thunderstruck blue eyes darted between Sawako and the butler. The teacher was speaking French as fluently and clearly as Monsieur Harusegawa, her French teacher. She could tell, though, that Sawako was just about reaching the limits of her French (which weren't enough for her to pass for a French III student). She spoke up, "Denis-san, Miko-chan and I have a big test on Monday to study for. If you'll excuse us..."

Denis, for a moment, forgot that he was no longer in Luxembourg. He nodded, muttered, "Excusez-moi," then, startled by his rudeness, exclaimed in broken Japanese, "Excuse me, ojou-sama."

"Denis-san kills me," Mugi chuckled, leading Sawako through the mansion. "If you don't mind my asking, how do you speak French so well? Did you study it in high school?"

Her brown eyes wide, Sawako shook her head in bewilderment. "Ohh, no. I studied English in high school and in college." She stated that Sawa-chan Fun Fact in lightly accented English. Then, switching back to Japanese: "I've never spoken French in my life. I just opened my mouth and that all came out."

"Denis-san is a native speaker!" Mugi cried, incredulous. "And you had him convinced!"

"I think I spoke about as well as a student would," Sawako said dryly. She turned her face forward to find they were now in an immense round room with dark red walls, wood paneling, chairs and sofas and loveseats. She laughed when she saw the grand piano in the closest corner; Mugi was getting the two of them back to basics.

Sawako sat next to the blonde girl on the bench. She allowed herself a better look around the room. There was so much to take in. It was roughly the size of her childhood home's living room, kitchen, dining room, and family room put together. After living in her shabby apartment for eight months, this one room in this younger girl's mansionesque home made Sawako feel a little agoraphobic herself. She could hardly blame any Kotobuki for feeling a little scared of the immensity of this place.

The room had a very posed, unused look about it. Or the butlers just did a superb job keeping it clean. It reminded Sawako of those old American movies with the cocktail party scenes and everyone dancing the Charleston. She felt a little Gatsby to Mugi's Daisy. The famous line from Fitzgerald's most popular book crept into her: Rich girls don't marry poor boys.

Well...I'm not poor, but...She shook her head. Now was not the time to think about money. An unprofessional relationship didn't need money to be really great. That was what everybody said, right? The best things in life are free?

Mugi experimentally tapped middle C, but something wasn't right. Something was missing. The piano wasn't out of tune (much). The sheet music was there. Dr. Beat was there. She raised her hand to sweep her bangs out of her eyes, as she habitually did before playing. Her hand halted on her forehead once she realized that there were no bangs to push away. That was what was missing. She quickly pulled out the blue hairtie, shaking out the bind it had put in her amber locks, and held it out to Sawako. "Here's your hairtie. I meant to give it back earlier."

"Keep it. I don't put my hair back much, and it looks better on you anyway."

"Oh, I doubt that. Here. Thanks for letting me borrow it."

Sawako shook her head, doing the no-deal hand wave. "I don't look good in blue, much as I'd like to. You look stunning with that elastic."

"You do so look good in blue," Mugi insisted. To the sensei's alarm, she took a brune tress and held the ponytail holder up to it. The keyboardist gently pulled her fingers through the strands. Sawako's hair was perfectly straight, thick, and silken. "See? Look at the contrast that creates. It makes your hair look great."

"Really? W-well, if you think so..." Sawako's hand trembled as she accepted the elastic. She noticed a long, curly golden strand still attached to it. She had never felt so mystified before, much less from a student of hers. Weren't the roles supposed to be switched? Yamanaka Sawako, hot for student, she thought with amusement. But was she hot for Mugi in that way? Was Mugi mystified, too?

"What's going on, Mugi-chan?" she blurted.

"What do you mean?" the blonde ojou inquired, playing the opening bars of 'Moonlight Sonata.'

"I mean, you've kind of been on this downer lately." Using the word 'downer' in tandem with the melancholic harmony of 'Moonlight Sonata' was wholly appropriate. "We haven't spoken much lately, I know, but you weren't...being yourself."

Mugi ended 'Moonlight Sonata' on a somber note, and switched to playing 'Badinerie.' She played it with varying tempos and dynamics: parts she knew well she played fast and loud, and parts she wasn't so confident in she played slow and soft. She kept the song moving, regardless of mistakes, until the excess of bum notes frustrated her too much. She lightly rapped her left hand against the keys with a dissonant DENG! Sighing, she told Sawako, "I have a solo contest coming up."

The unharmonious chord faded up into the high ceiling, like an afterthought to Mugi's restrained anger. Even an analogous set of notes were perfect for the mood.

"It's on Friday, the same day as the concert," the younger girl continued gloomily, "and this piece is way too hard."

"Why did you enter yourself in a solo contest on the same day as the concert?"

"I didn't. My father did. He picked the music, too." Mugi lightly tapped the first chord of 'Badinerie.' "He hates mainstream music, so there's no way he'd pardon the contest for the concert." She cracked her knuckles and looked at Sawako. "What about you? You're not being yourself either."

The sensei exhaled, knowing it was true. Her promotion to Fine Arts Department Chair had given her a wealth of responsibility, but there was more to her recent change in behavior than that. It was, of course, the kiss. At the time last week during Mugi's fated detention, a kiss on the cheek seemed like a comforting, affectionate gesture. But if Sawako couldn't bring herself to say anything after that, the kiss could have more or less meant nothing. But Sawako knew that kiss wasn't just for comfort. Holding a hand or giving a hug registered comfort. A kiss registered something totally different.

"Ts-Tsumugi..."

"Hm?" Mugi took her hands away from the piano and turned on the bench, straddling it, so she could face Sawako. Whenever anyone who wasn't her mother or father called her Tsumugi she knew they were talking about serious business.

The older woman turned the azurous hairtie over in her hands. Then she pulled the flavicomous hair from it and played with it, watching as though hypnotized as the hair curled and straightened. "We need to talk about that kiss..."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Mugi blush. The ojou's cerulean eyes swam with an emotion Sawako couldn't presently identify. It may have been affection. It may have been worry.

"We both know that that was the gigantic elephant in the room that we needed to talk about," the teacher said flatly.

Mugi wordlessly nodded they had needed to talk about that elephant, but finding the words was difficult. Acknowledging the kiss would throw its significance to the acknowledger into question: 'Why did that kiss mean so much to you anyway?' But, Mugi realized, through the painful silence both of them stubbornly held for the past week, they communicated a mutual message that the kiss meant a lot to both of them.

"We...both know what it meant," the ojou murmured.

Sawako smiled slightly. It was a weak smile, but not a fake one. She was plainly freaked out. "We know what it could mean if it gets out."

Mugi gulped. Her head was beginning to ache with all the sleep-depriving fear she had had of that hypothetical situation. Her father had come close to finding out, but then decided that he just didn't care. Denis was fooled for the moment. How long could that last, though?

"But you know what, Mugi-chan?" The teacher scooted along the bench, closer to the keyboardist. She had her face turned toward her, her brown eyes betraying a hesitation contrary to her actions. "I don't care what happens if they find out."

The blonde girl blinked in surprise. Like with the detention last week, she could describe this situation as 'intimate.' The fact that Sawako was practically whispering lent an even deeper sense of closeness to the private scene. Once again, the gap between them was narrowing. The sensei was leaning closer still, and her right hand reached up to tenderly cup Mugi's cheek. Behind her glasses, Sawako's tawny eyes swam passionately.

"You make me feel happier than anyone else has ever made me feel. And I would be an idiot to give up that happiness."

She's going to kiss me again! Mugi realized. Sawako's face was so close now that the ojou could feel and smell her minty breath. Mugi dimly wondered if this was a little too straight-forward, but...What is there to say that we don't know already? I'm just glad that I can make Sawa-chan so happy. The keyboardist, sporting an excoriating beamer, turned her face slightly, showing Sawako the same side of it that she'd kissed a week ago.

Sawako had other ideas. Without pausing, she tilted her head in accordance with Mugi's. The gap vanished as their mouths came together. Sawako caught Mugi's lips in a slow, deep kiss. Startled, the keyboardist turned her face forward, and the sensei kissed her again. Tsumugi's shock melted away into a warm, demonstrative yearning. She fervently needed to show that yearning to Sawako, the beautiful, funny teacher whom she had adored since she was a first year. Her mouth loosened up and she leaned in, kissing Sawako back. She hummed tenderly and brought her gentle hands up to the brunette's shoulders. Sawako hugged the younger girls waist, caressing the small of her back, and pulled her into herself, Mugi's body settling into all of the teacher's parts and places. This was as close as they got, merging as one, no longer just teacher and student, ojou and commoner. They were now the perfect Sawa and Mugi.

Hot excitement bubbled up in the younger girl, lending urgency to her kisses. This moment defied all of her wildest dreams and fantasies. How long had she wanted to kiss SAwako like this (never mind the novice experience)! Their deepest and most basic needs had taken them this far; Tsumugi was wondering if they could go a bit farther...

She was now kissing Sawako so intensely and with such a yen that she was actually pushing the sensei's glasses askew on her warm, flushed face. Mugi raised a burning thigh so she could sit upon Sawako's lap. The teacher's hands faltered; she moaned involuntarily.

Mugi tore herself away from Sawako when she heard footsteps approaching from down the hall. Her rear end hit the piano keys with another dischordant peal. She knew if a butler bothered to come by any room that she was in, then most likely he had business with her. Sawako understood this as well. Whilst the blonde sat back on the bench at an innocent distance from her, the teacher readjusted her glasses and clothes. Mugi began playing 'Badinerie' at a frantic, clumsy tempo. The cherry-wood doors made no sound when Denis entered.

"Ojou-sama, Kotobuki-dono has just arrived home."

"Okay, thank you, Denis-san." It cracked Mugi up how the butlers called her father 'Kotobuki-dono' when they were talking to her. She smiled at Sawako. "Want to meet my father?"

Still dazed by their heated actions not mere moments before, Sawako nodded slightly.

Mr. Kotobuki's beryl-colored eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at Tsumugi, his only daughter. She approached him with some bespectacled individual whom he presumed to be a friend of hers. He was eager to see his daughter, for he had a feeling that what he'd bought in Kobe could pull her out of her blues.

"Hi, Father," Mugi greeted brightly. "How was Kobe?"

"Excellent as usual," he nodded. He wore a cobalt blue suit with an accent of red silk peeping from the breast pocket. "I had dinner at this glorious restaurant, Tsumugi. Louie's, it was called. Their service was capital and the baklava was to die for."

The hint of Greek combined with the upsnap of his Scandinavian accent made Mugi wince. She wondered what Sawako thought of her father.

"Uh, Father, this is my friend from French class." She also wondered how long this lie could go on before it blew up.

"Hirasawa Makoto." Sawako stepped forward with her right hand extended.

The old man barely grasped it, much less shake it. "Kotobuki Holt."

Holt. There was an unusual name reserved for European military generals during the World Wars. Sawako was beginning to question whether her new cute girlfriend was Japanese or European.

"This restaurant is the best, Tsumugi," Holt continued, waving his hand expressively. "I ought to bring you there sometime."

Mugi nodded. "Sure. Maybe sometime."

Her father grinned. "I got something for you."

The keyboardist almost groaned. The last time Holt went out and bought something for her, he came back with that brass dog that now watched over people in the bathroom. Holt knew two things about Mugi: that she could play piano, and that she liked dogs. Most of her birthday, Christmas, and Easter presents revolved around those two Mugi Fun Facts. And they were all pretty useless.

Presently, Tsumugi covered her mouth to surpress that groan. She was worried that Sawako would think of her as an ungrateful daughter and a brat. Sometimes Mugi thought she was, but she wasn't ready for Sawako to see that side of her. For the moment Good Mugi prevailed whilst Bad Mugi sulked in the shadows.

Holt had disappeared for a moment. When he came back, he bore a gigantic rectangular box. It compassed the general shape of an 88-key keyboard, but with Holt you never knew. He was known to give her mock-up presents for Christmas when she was tiny. She recalled a year when she opened an enormous package that only had a gift card to Best Buy in it. This keyboard-shaped box could probably be holding a new pair of gloves or something.

Or could it? Mugi tilted her head and caught the Yamaha logo on the side of the box.

She gasped. "A new keyboard...?"

"Uh-huh." Holt's smile was so huge, his voice so eager, that it nearly broke Mugi's heart to think, I don't want a new keyboard, though! "It's a MOTIF Synthesizer...Probably synthesizers aren't your thing, but this'll broaden your horizons a bit! It has a USB port so you can record what you're playing, though I dunno if you're the recording type. Four hundred and fifty-six different sounds. Incredible, ne?"

The more he talked and went on, the more horrified Sawako became. Does he know anything about his daughter? Sawako had only known Mugi for three years, but she knew that the blonde played a synthesizer with a band that could record an album if they wanted to. It was difficult to imagine that Holt had raised Mugi and chilling to realize that he had. The teacher imagined him with his head in the clouds whilst baby Mugi crawled about and teethed on the marble overhang.

"It is incredible," Mugi said faintly. What choice did she have? Bad Mugi couldn't show herself yet. The ojou extended her arms and accepted the keyboard. "Thank you, Father."

"You're welcome," he said cheerily. "I knew you'd love it."

Can't you see that she plainly doesn't? Sawako wanted to ask. This was not Mugi's genuinely happy face that she was giving her father, the sensei could tell.

Holt brushed past Mugi. "Well, do what you want with that, Tsumugi. Right now I need a big old drink. Sebastian-san!" he called. "Make me a Tom Collins!"

Mugi sheepishly looked at Sawako, her blue eyes wide. The brunette made a revolving motion next to her head and mouthed, 'Is he crazy?' Mugi sighed and jerked her head towards the front entrance.

Once they were outside Mugi gingerly propped the Yamaha against the wall. Yawning, she stretched her cramped arms. It had been such a long night. She couldn't wait to go to bed.

Sawako stared at the keyboard and rubbed her chin. "Nice gift. I wish my parents would've bought me my guitar."

"I don't want to keep it," the blonde sighed, leaning against the wall. She stifled another yawn. "Nothing could replace my Korg."

"That makes sense," Sawako nodded.

They were quiet for a moment. The teacher absently gazed at the stars. One could get a gorgeous view of the heavens from the front of the Kotobuki mansion. Aquarius glinted brightly, depicting a man carrying a bucket of water that was to represent deeper ideologies and humanitarian concepts. Sawako looked for Cancer, Mugi's sun sign, the crab representing a hard outer shell concealing a sensitive inner body, but it was too far away from Aquarius to be seen. Sawako gave up on star gazing. She opened her mouth to ask something, but saw Tsumugi had fallen asleep on her feet, leaning against the side of the mansion.

Sawako giggled, watching Mugi's head nod, her eyes flicker under the lids. She quietly approached the blonde and lightly kissed her forehead. Mugi jerked awake, nearly falling over. "Gomenasai!" she exclaimed groggily, rubbing her eyes. "I'm just kinda sleepy..."

"I understand. It's late." The teacher pulled Mugi into her arms and held her, the younger girl's flaxen-haired head pillowed upon her breasts. "I should get going so you can get some sleep."

Mugi moaned a little. She wasn't ready for them to part. She could feel the vibrations as Sawako laughed quietly.

"We'll see each other on Monday, don't worry." She paused. "Just one thing before I go. Are you from Europe?"

"Hmm, no," Mugi sighed drowsily. "I'm not from there. But my heritages are Finnish and Swiss. My mom's name is Veronique Hohnstedt, believe it or not."

Sawako believed it. She had always thought Mugi had a very un-Japanese appearance. "Well, Mugi-chan," she whispered at last, "I'll see you later..." When she got no response, she lightly patted Mugi's shoulder. The blonde ojou raised her head sleepily, murmuring, "Sorry, Sawa-chan."

" 'S okay," the teacher grinned. She gently tipped Mugi's chin up and kissed her deeply. "À lundi, Mugi-chan."

"À lundi."

RECORDING

Chapter Thirteen

Things Keep Happening

Ritsu woke up suddenly on Saturday morning with a top-grade headache and Mio spooning her from behind. Even in this pale dawn hour the drummer knew how things were going to be between the two of them, parents be damned.

She poked her dry tongue out of her dry mouth, tasting the bitterness of autumn and other things. She spat out some tawny locks that had fallen into her mouth whilst she slept. She tried to sit up, but as a tough seat belt keeps one from moving in a car, so Mio kept her hold on Ritsu. The bassist had her arms clamped about her girlfriend's torso in an unconscious purchase. Grasping her bedframe, Ritsu tried to pull herself free. Mio simply tightened her grip, murmuring, "…Issu…"

Sighing, Ritsu flopped her head back down on her pillow. Mio was not going to let go of her until she woke up, the drummer knew that for sure. Throughout their girlhood sleepovers they had learned each other's somnolent habits. Ritsu kicked and talked in her sleep; Mio reflexively spooned anything that touched her. The brunette had been the victim of her best friend's slumberous cuddling before. Usually she turned around and bopped Mio until the raven-haired girl woke up. Now she couldn't bring herself to rouse Mio at this ungodly hour. She could hardly believe she herself had woken up this early.

You're the one, Ritsu.

The drummer's breath caught in her throat and an electric shock ran through her collarbone. She shivered despite the wonderfully drowsy warmth of her bed, the covers, and her girlfriend snuggled up behind her. "M-Mio…" Ritsu brought a trembling hand to her mouth, her hazel eyes welling up. I can't believe she said all those things to me. I can't believe she's my girlfriend! I thought for sure that she'd turn me down. Her lips ached exquisitely from the memory of the kisses Mio had given her the night before: for being a good friend and staying by her side. "Oh, Mio," Ritsu sighed, cupping her hands over the bassist's hand. I'll be a better girlfriend and stay by your side till the end.

Ritsu was beginning to think she could let Mio sleep for so long that the drummer would starve before she woke up. Then she felt a pang of urgency in her lower tummy. She suddenly remembered what she had to routinely do every morning.

Raising her elbow, she gently prodded her girlfriend. "Mio, wake up. I gotta go…"

Mio sighed and stirred slightly. She slid her left hand up Ritsu's tummy. The drummer's back went stiff as she felt the raven-haired girl's hand whisk lightly along her breast and settle there. It didn't stop there; Mio tightened her grasp until she was firmly cupping Ritsu's left breast.

Trying with all her might to control her breathing, the brunette laughed nervously. "Eheheh. Tryin' to cop a cheap feel there, Mio-chuan? I never thought you'd want to move our relationship this fast." When she got no response, she realized Mio was still asleep. Her eyes narrowed and she sweat-dropped. What sort of things does this perv dream about when she cuddles?

A choked gasp exploded from her throat as she felt Mio's hand tighten around her breast still. That hurts…She squeaked frightfully as Mio continued to squeeze harder. Pain lanced through her ribs. Ritsu thought she would either faint or have a heart attack. With a wealth of effort, she reached out and grabbed her night-stand, trying to pull herself free. Mio responded by subconsciously squeezing harder and pulling Ritsu back down. "…Issu…"

Oh, that does it! I can only be so lovey-dovey when my chest is in a vise-hold! Cold, sticky sweat masked Ritsu's flushed face as she grabbed a stick off her night-stand. She lightly whacked Mio's head with the butt end of it. Grunting in alarm, the bassist released Ritsu's breast and sat up. She rubbed the side of her head and blinked grumpily.

"Why did you wake me up like that?"

"Because you were squeezing my boob like a stress ball, hentai!"

Mio considered her left hand, gurgling in horror, before she snapped, "Don't make up lies, Ricchan!"

"I'm not!" Ritsu gingerly fingered her breast. Even though it was no longer caught in a clamp that may as well have been a bear trap, it still felt tender. Breathing stung her chest. "I probably have a hand-shaped bruise on it! I'm gonna have to go find a trauma counselor!"

Mio stared at Ritsu, watching her small shoulders shudder as she struggled to breathe. She wouldn't sound so serious if she was kidding around. Humming sympathetically, the noir-haired girl inched closer and wrapped her arms around Ritsu. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, resting her cheek upon her girlfriend's musteleine hair. "I didn't mean to, believe me. Anything I can do to make it up to you?"

Mio could hear Ritsu grinning. "Kiss it and make it better?"

THOCK!

Ritsu's shoulders crunched up to her neck as a princely goose egg raised itself upon her crown. "What a way to treat someone who loves you…"

"It hurt me more than it hurt you." Mio shook out her hand, then considered her uniform. "Can't believe I slept in this. I'll have to bring it to the drycleaners." She swung her legs over the edge of Ritsu's bed. "I wish I had a change of clothes."

The drummer knocked a foot against the bedframe. "There's a sweater and some lounge pants you left behind a while back."

The raven-haired girl stuck a hand under the bed, pawing fruitlessly about, until she felt something soft with a fabric texture. Her slate eyes gleaming with satisfaction, Mio withdrew her hand which clutched…

…a pair of white panties with a lily decoration.

"HYAAACKK!" Mio choked, a virtual shadow falling over her saucer-like eyes. Horrified, she threw the panties randomly across the room.

Her face tomato-red, Ritsu seized her girlfriend by her shoulders and shook her. "Is there no end to your pervertedness, Mio?" She added as an afterthought, "Though I've been wondering where those went…"

Mio's left hand fluttered helplessly. She gripped her wrist, moaning, "Pantsu…pantsu…p-p-pantsu…"

Beguiled by this morning's turn of events and the ghastly look on her best friend's face, Ritsu began to convulse with laughter. Her head grew light from her amusement. Soon, she was exhausted again. Here they were, not twelve hours into their relationship, and they were arguing already. It was either the best relationship ever or the most bizarre one. Or both.

"Here," she giggled, getting down on the floor. "Lemme find them for you." The drummer reached under her bed and within mere moments retrieved a pair of black yoga pants and a fuchsia sweater that said 'Kuma Kyoku Girl.'

Mio ceased rocking back and forth in her funk. "That's mine? I thought that was yours."

Ritsu studied it dubiously, an eyebrow raised. "It's too big to be mine." She laughed. "This must have been left behind a long time ago. Go on, put it on."

The bassist accepted it hesitantly. Then, turning away slightly, she unhooked the buttons on her blazer. Ritsu tried not to stare, but it was hard not to notice Mio's curvaceous form. She used to feel the sting of jealous longing whenever she saw the coal-haired girl's breasts. Now she felt a different kind of longing. Mio's supple breasts were cradled in a simple white bra, but it drove Ritsu crazy. Her breathing came fast and deep, her chest cavity expanding to take in more air. Her thighs burned, and what she had between her thighs burned as well.

Oblivious, Mio reached for the sweater. She glanced at Ritsu. The drummer had her head bent, her cadmium-stained fingers pinching her nostrils shut.

Her dander raised with outrage and violation, Mio pressed an arm over her bra and raised the other to deck her girlfriend again. "Who's the pervert now, ecchi!"

"I'be sorry! I cad't helb id!"

"I oughta..." What? Knock her block off without a shirt on? She'd probably like that. Mio swiftly pulled the pink sweater over her head, hauling her cascading long jet locks out of the collar. From the corner of her eye she saw Ritsu raise her face from her hands and snort experimentally.

"Hahh, it stopped," she sighed, her voice still a bit congested. She gagged as a backflow of bloody mucus slid down her throat.

"Ecchi," Mio muttered.

"Look, I didn't mean to betray your modesty," Ritsu apologized. "It can be payback for your crushing my delicates. Now we're even."

They affectionately teased one another as they headed downstairs, calling each other 'ecchi' and 'hentai.' At the base of the stairs they found Ritsu's blazer, neatly folded, with her headband placed on top. Stooping, Mio picked up the headband and stared at it reflectively. Last night the drummer had placed herself in a vulnerable position by throwing it away - Mio knew it represented a sort of security to Ritsu - and coming out, telling the whole truth, to boot. The bassist knew raw fear in and out, but she couldn't imagine throwing herself into something so dreadful. To Mio it would be the equivalent of going back to Mrs. Abe's class, stark naked, to write right-handed (she used to have nightmares about that in primary school).

"Ricchan," she spoke, standing back up. "Why did you take this off?" She added with a soft smile, "If you didn't know at the time how cute you look without it."

For a moment Ritsu was staggered by the flirtation, her blushing face making Mio giggle. Then, a bit embarrassed, she took the headband and placed it in her hair. "I-it was giving me a headache." Man, why'm I stuttering? Mio used to stutter! Attempting to recover from her awkwardness, she grinned, "Basically that headband was doing to my head what your hand was doing to my breast."

"Oi, can we let that go?" Mio protested, her face crimson. "I said I was sorry and I'd never do it again!" When Ritsu kept laughing, the bassist gruffly turned her around and pushed her toward the kitchen. "Can we just move on?"

"Ohh, I thought you'd never ask," the drummer chuckled. She led her girlfriend into the familiar kitchen with its applewood counters, granite countertops, and the stainless steel microwave which would never fit in with its sister appliances. Fresh coffee had been made. Satoshi was having a cup with his eggs and toast. Mr. Tainaka was in the next room, drinking coffee and reading the paper. Ritsu glanced at Mio, wondering, Am I the receptive one in this relationship?

It wasn't that she wanted to put Mio down or anything, but come on. It's not like me to submit to someone else's will. Ritsu never did stuff like that. Why start now? Besides, real relationships weren't about dominance and submission. Relationships in manga were, particularly with yaoi, with the...the...something and the uke. I can't be the uke, the drummer thought, shaking her head. The seme is always cool. The uke is either a wuss or a spazz.

"Ohayo, neechan," Satoshi mumbled, alerting Mr. Tainaka to his daughter's presence. He set down his newspaper and leaned forward in his chair.

"Ohayo, bozu," Ritsu greeted. Satoshi whined as she seized him in a brief headlock. "How was Paranormal Activity? Totally awesomesauce?"

"Not really," he frowned. "It just seemed...I dunno, kinda fake."

"Pssh," she snorted, pulling his hair. "You thought 500 Days of Summer - a lameass chick-flick - was great." She grinned and placed a hand on her cheek. "Ohoho! What would the girls in your class say if they knew you loved 500 Days of Summer?"

"Hey, c'mon! 500 Days of Summer was the perfect mix of funny and sad!"

"More like the perfect mix of lame and stupid!"

"Me, I just thought Paranormal Activity was too scary..." Mio mumbled.

Mr. Tainaka leaned his face in his hand, his palm over his mouth, as though restraining himself from speaking. Last night's confrontation with Tokudaiji weighed heavily on his mind. Even though the scrawny little wretch would have deserved it - and part of Mr. Tainaka still believed he deserved a serious licking - the old man regretted coming at him like that. This would have negative consequences for Ritsu. If Tokudaiji wasn't being a total asshole to her before, he would be now.

Mrs. Tainaka had studied philosophy during their agonizing college separation. Though her Bachelor's degree served no practical purpose, she had still formed her own ideologies. One that Mr. Tainaka remembered now was: True strength comes from restraint. To fight someone shows how easy it is to tear you down to that level.

Am I weak? he wondered.

He watched Ritsu and Mio talk and laugh. They're good friends, he thought with certainty. Tokudaiji-san has it all wrong. Mr. Tainaka came from a generation that had fallen head over heels for Star Trek. There was the fanbase; and then there were the Trekkies, fanboys, and fangirls that fervently believed that Spock and Kirk were a real couple. Tokudaiji may have just been a guy who saw things in tints of yuri. Either way, he's full of shit.

Originally Mr. Tainaka had planned to talk to Ritsu about Tokudaiji. Now he thought that could wait.

Wind blasted through Tsumugi's ears, her aurum hair rippling behind her, as she dashed through the fine arts wing of Sakura High School early Monday morning. She knew running had made her look a bit disheveled, but it had been a long weekend without Sawako. That alone had set some embers sparkling. Then Holt, her father, casually mentioned something extremely significant over breakfast and that kindled the blaze full-throttle. Mugi felt guilty about leaving Holt alone in such a rush. So she made sure to not only kiss him good-bye but hug him, too. She caught the earlier train to the next town, bounced about the car eagerly, then ran all the way to Sakura. I should join the cross country team, she thought absently. In total she had probably run twelve miles, and she hadn't broken a sweat or anything.

This early in the day I can probably find Sawa-chan in the fine arts office. It was an hour till the first period bell rang. The only people here were staff members and Madrigal Choir and Wind Symphony students.

Mugi frantically grabbed the corner to help her round it. In doing so she nearly floored her passing psychology teacher.

"Sumimasen, Toku-sensei!" she cried, bowing rapidly before continuing on her way. She glanced at him over her shoulder. Unbelievable. But Father never lies.

"Sawako!" she gasped, exploding into the office.

The sensei looked up in alarm, then smiled once she saw it was just Mugi. It wasn't even first hour, yet it was already amounting to a stressful day. Lots of tests to grade, projects to look over, the usual paperwork every department chair had to submit on Monday, the simple fact that it was Monday, Noriko, Tokudaiji, blah blah blah.

Mugi was in a state. Her hair was a little messy. A shirt-tail peeped out from under her blazer.

"I've got two words for you," she panted, holding up her hands expressively. "Tokudaiji conglomerate."

Sawako blinked and her eyes hooded in annoyance. She hadn't had her coffee yet. It was a miserable morning, and now her girlfriend had rolled in to tell her that her worst enemy was as rich as she was. Reapplying herself to her work, she grumbled, "I got two words for you, too."

"I'm serious." The keyboardist self-consciously ran her fingers through her crisp hair. Clearing her throat, she gestured at a chair next to Sawako's desk. "May I...?"

The sensei nodded, smiling. Even in a tizzy Mugi could still remember her manners.

"Arigatougozaimasu." Whilst the ojou seated herself Sawako implored, "Please, don't be so formal." She extended a soft hand to gently tip Mugi's chin up. Her brown eyes locked with Mugi's blue ones. "I think we're a bit closer than that, don't you?"

Mugi's hooded eyes swam and her cheeks pinkened. "S-Sawa-chan..."

The teacher giggled, feeling the heat in her girlfriend's face. "Why, don't get all coy with me, Miss Tsumugi. 'Specially since you were practically in my lap Friday night...or, technically, it was Saturday morning."

So lost in amorous estrus was Mugi that she nearly forgot that was her first kiss. I have no idea where that boldness came from either, she wanted to say, but her throat felt paralyzed in her neck. She didn't just have butterflies in her stomach. Every organ in her body churned and fluttered and tickled with a million butterflies.

Sawako whispered something, but her words were forgotten once she kissed Mugi full on the mouth. Thankful that no one else was in the fine arts office, the keyboardist hummed softly. She tilted her head, opening her mouth a little, intensifying the kiss. A Kotobuki had a high body temperature; in that light, one had a high sexual temperature as well. Mugi could feel hers rising, the extra blood pounding in her head among other places. She reached for Sawako, sliding her sweaty hands along her arms up to her shoulders, gently pushing her back in her chair. Laughing, the brunette broke the smooch.

"You really like to kiss," she chuckled. "You're quite the firecracker."

Mugi felt like one, sparking and vibrating and wanting to explode. Her mouth still hung open, and somehow words came out. "I...never...kissed..."

"I never woulda guessed," Sawako laughed, touching a fire-hot cheek with the tips of her fingers. "I've done the girl thing a couple times in college. I had a rebellious streak as a freshman. Going against society meant going down on a girl."

That mental image seared Mugi's vital areas like a hot coal and she tossed it away quickly.

Sawako now laid her palm flat on the ojou's face, caressing it. "It didn't mean as much as this does right now. And none of those girls could kiss half as good as you can."

"O-oh, gosh...! I don't think I..."

"Didn't you have something you wanted to tell me?" Sawako impetuously withdrew and began frantically scribbling on a legal pad. The gesture stung Mugi until she saw a culinary teacher stroll over to his desk.

"U-um, well...My father's affiliated with an executive of this electronics company. Tokudaiji Eishun." She glanced at the culinary teacher, wondering if she should discuss the psych teacher. He didn't seem to notice. "Eishun-jiichan is a close family friend. I've known him for as long as I can remember. And his son, according to my father, teaches psychology here."

Sawako looked up from her scribbles. "That ogre Tokudaiji-san is a wakka?"

Mugi nodded. "Apparently."

The sensei set down her pen and tapped her chin thoughtfully. "He's past old enough to receive his inheiretance. Why's he teaching?"

The ojou shrugged. "Maybe he likes it. I'm...in the same caste as his family, and I certainly wouldn't mind teaching."

"Well, you're Mugi-chan," Sawako smirked, tapping the tip of Mugi's nose. "There's not much you would mind. But Tokudaiji-san doesn't seem to like kids or teaching in general." She pressed her fingers together and nestled her chin between her thumbs and index fingers. "Is he not allowed to work in his family's business...?"

"That would be a terrible disgrace," Mugi sighed. "I would hate to think of what he could've done to get expelled from the conglomerate...If he got expelled from the conglomerate."

"Me, I wanna delve deeper into this." The teacher grinned wickedly and her eyes shone behind her glasses. She snatched a post-it and urgently scrawled something. She was growling an oath to herself. Her crazed voice gained volume until it was a roar. "Blackmail me, will ya, Tokudaiji-san? Well, now I got somethin' on ya. Two can play at this game!" She stood suddenly, throwing her chair back, and held the post-it of destiny high above her head. "This is the post-it that will pierce the heavens! I, Yamanaka Sawako, do solemnly declare my revenge on Tokudaiji-san! THIS IS WAR!" Using the ball of her hand, she slammed the post-it on her desk. Completely winded, she stood shuddering and panting. Her hair was frizzy, her face red, her eyes wild.

"Yamanaka-san...?"

Sawako shakily turned her head to see the culinary teacher staring wide-eyed at her. He had been writing something down. Now his pen slipped out of his trembling hand.

The department chair's fervor drained out of her, replaced by embarrassment and self-awareness. She straightened her posture and tried to fix her hair. She couldn't help it. She had been so overwhelmed with worry about Tokudaiji ratting her out. Now her girlfriend had just handed her the bastard's head on a plate. Sawako turned to look at Mugi; the keyboardist stared at her with saucer eyes.

"Sawa-chan...? Is everything...okay?"

Sighing, the teacher retrieved her chair and set it so it faced Mugi's. "It's like this..."

Azusa yelped, nearly falling down the tall flight of stairs in her house. She was trying to button her blazer and run down them at the same time. She burst into the kitchen. Her mother was so startled by her impetuous and forceful arrival that she nearly dropped her plate-load of French toast.

"Good morning," Mrs. Nakano greeted humorously, watching her petite daughter flurry about the kitchen.

"Good morning," Azusa returned breathlessly. She threw back a glass of orange juice. Filling a thermos with coffee, she exhaled quickly, "I'm sorry, but I can't stay for breakfast. I agreed to meet someone on the way to school."

"What'll you eat, then?" Mr. Nakano asked.

Azusa helped herself to a piece of toast. "This'll do." She stuffed it between her teeth and dashed toward the door, shouting, " 'Oodfye!"

"Bye," Mrs. Nakano said faintly, but the door had already slammed shut. She moved automatically to the table, set down the plate of French toast, and seated herself across from her husband.

"She's eager to get to school," he commented.

"No, Hikaru," she sighed in exasperation. "She's eager to meet with whomever she's going to meet with."

The front door exploded open and Azusa scurried in. "I f'got somefin'!" she exclaimed around a mouthful of toast. She bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Moments later she reappeared with her gig bag strapped around her. "Thee you affer 'chool!" She threw her hand out in a brief wave before leaving.

Mrs. Nakano winked at her husband. "Azusa's got herself a boyfriend."

Mr. Nakano almost choked on his toast.

Jun gave a dry smile at Ui's dour expression. She knew the ponytailed girl's hopes had fallen hard over the weekend. Late Friday night found the two of them returning to the Hirasawa residence, Ui hoping against hope that Yui and Azusa hadn't become an official couple. Though it was obvious they had the next day. Azusa hadn't wanted to talk about it, but Yui was too enthusiastically affectionate to be kept quiet. Oblivious to Ui's bitter visage, she had exclaimed, "Azu-nyan says she wants to go out with me!"

"N-not 'go out' as in...um..." Azusa had stammered. She positively glowed with hers and Yui's newfound love, the tenderness swimming in her garnet eyes, but she had wanted to be cautious at first. Now she walked ahead of Ui and Jun, laughing with her girlfriend, the two of them holding hands, unaware of Ui's dagger eyes.

Jun sighed. Ui had shown a lot of restraint over the weekend, the trip to Harajuku notwithstanding. Despite Jun's assurances, the ponytailed girl was still troubled by this. She had wanted to rant, complain, whine, bitch and moan. But she hadn't. And it's probably because of what I said in Harajuku. Figuring that a friend in need was a friend indeed, Jun queried, "Something wrong, Ui-chan?"

Ui's face softened to a more vulnerable expression as she looked at Jun. "What do you think oneechan sees in Azusa-chan?"

The darker-haired girl fell silent, turning her eyes forward to the couple in question. Azusa was leaning in to Yui, laughing at something she said. Then Yui added something as an afterthought and the noir-haired kouhai looked up indignantly, her cheeks pink.

"Do you suppose it's the pigtails?" Ui sulked. "'Cause I could look cute with pigtails, too."

"If you say so, Kokoro-chan," Jun snickered.

"I'm not like Kokoro!" Ui protested.

"And good thing you're not. The last thing I need right now is for my two best friends to get involved in a murder-suicide." Jun was quiet a moment, chewing the inside of her cheek pensively. Then she suggested, "Maybe she loves Azusa-chan's ambition and strong sense of self."

"Ambition, huh, more like tenacity," Ui snorted. But she had to agree; those were plausible reasons for her older sister to fall in love with someone. You never know unless you find out, though. "Oneechan!"

Yui and Azusa halted, turned, and waited for Ui and Jun to catch up.

Ui wore her supportive little sister smile as she inquired, "What do you love the most about Azusa-chan?"

"Ui!" Azusa yelled, blushing.

The ponytailed girl's smile broadened at the sloe-haired girl's outrage.

Nonplussed, Yui responded blithely, "Azu-nyan's super-cute! Isn't she?"

"Arahh! Let go of my face! W-we're not in private..."

Figures it wouldn't have anything to do with her character, Jun thought humorously.

Cute. That made Ui a little sick. If being cute's all it takes to win oneechan's heart, why haven't I won it? Am I not cute? Misery of the likes she had never experienced consumed Ui on the way to school - misery that was so potently horrible it caused virtual thunderclouds to form over her head. Rather than bash herself for not being cute, Ui thought it more productive (or more fun, at least) to try to burn a hole into the back of Azusa's cute head with her not-so-cute eyes.

When they arrived at Sakura High School students were milling about the courtyard. There were ten minutes left till first period began. Yui's first hour class was sociology, but she escourted Azusa to the math wing, where her geometry class was - also, Ui presumed, a private place to kiss good-bye. She shuddered and turned away, leaning against the wall.

Jun smiled gently. "Take it easy. You'll find someone." She placed a delicate hand upon Ui's shoulder, hoping that would be enough to placate her.

"I want oneechan," Ui whined.

Jun withdrew her hand and said honestly, "It's probably nothing against you personally. Yui-chan probably just doesn't go for the whole sister thing." With that she bade Ui good-bye and headed off to Spanish class.

Ui squeezed her full brown eyes shut and let the tears fall. They spilled copiously down her cheeks and dripped from her quivering chin. She cried silently, knowing that a less considerate person than Jun would try to make her feel better.

RECORDING

Chapter Fourteen

Fire and Ice

"We have to hang out after the concert!" Yui declared cheerfully, swinging hers and Azusa's hands back and forth. She was accompanying the kouhai to her first period geometry class.

"Just the two of us?" the pigtailed girl queried.

Yui nodded exuberantly. She beamed in anticipation of Azusa saying yes.

Azusa almost did say yes. She opened her mouth to affirm; she ended up saying, "I can't."

The senpai's face fell, though she hadn't stopped skipping. "Why not?"

"I have a root canal the day after." Azusa said it blankly, as though she was just now realizing. Preoccupation with their game had diluted her worry about the root canal. She continued, "I hear it's really painful, so I want to be well-rested for it."

"What's a root canal?" Yui inquired. She halted once she felt the tug of her girlfriend's hand; they had arrived at her teacher's door.

Azusa leaned against the wall, her head tipped back. "It's when they drill open your tooth to remove infected nerves from the roots —"

"Aaaa!" Yui moaned in horror, her hands over her mouth. She raised her shoulders to her ears and jumped up and down a bit. "That's horrible! Ugh! You have to have that done to you, Azu-nyan?"

The kouhai nodded and glared aside, grumbling, "The worst part is I'm getting a gold or silver crown afterwards. I'm gonna look like a ranch-hand hill-billy."

Yui stared at Azusa sadly, realizing just how extremely dreadful this whole root canal thing was. Her mind scrambled barrenly, her thoughts whirling uselessly in a disorganized flurry. This was how her mind worked. Once she seemed to have a sensible thought, something would blow it out into chaos. Sort of like raking leaves on a windy day.

"I'll bring you a cake, Azu-nyan!" the senpai blurted. That was the first thing she could think of.

Azusa sighed despondently, her lean shoulders slumping. "I don't think I can eat solid food after the procedure, Yui-senpai." You'd probably snarf it all anyway, she added mentally. She smiled weakly. "Thanks, anyway…for the, uh, consideration."

Oh wow, she looks at me differently! This thought may have been blown away by Yui's intellectual gale, but the amorous feelings for the diligent younger girl still lingered. While most girls' hearts melted from the heat waves of love, Yui's heart smoldered in the core of its blaze. Whereas other girls would walk about in a dream-like haze, Yui positively radiated jollity and energy. No one else's optimism could match up with hers, and having Azusa with her intensified these glowing feelings.

"Azu-nyaaan!" she gushed, snatching up the pigtailed girl in a formidable bear hug. Azusa's brain, which had been calmly turning over thoughts of the root canal, now had to make the rude transition to the present situation. Yui's face was lunging in close for a kiss. Gasping, Azusa shot her hands out, grasping her head, restraining her. 'Restraint' not being Yui's byword, she strained against her girlfriend's tiny hands, whining, "Azu-nyan…"

"Not here!" she hissed.

"You always face these problems so calmly," Yui argued, "but they really freak you out! I can help you relax!"

"We can't kiss in public!" Azusa insisted. "It attracts gawkers!" That Yui was holding her by her waist was conspicuous enough. The kouhai shot her signature black stare at a few first years who had stopped to observe them.

"Just one kiss?" Yui pleaded. "I have to go to sociology soon, and then I won't get to see you until seventh period."

Azusa locked her copper eyes with her girlfriend's chestnut ones. She wanted to, she really did. Friday night had truly been a more heavenly experience than her sixteen-year-old heart could grasp. Memories of Yui's soft lips and the taste of her tongue overflowed the younger girl's head. Most of all she remembered Yui's smell — a sweet aroma, cool, flowery, almost outdoorsy. There's an experience I wouldn't mind reliving, Azusa thought with a smile. She relaxed her hands. Already the gaping first years seemed light years away from the two lovers as Yui's fire met Azusa's ice in a passionate liplock.

In reality it was a brief kiss, maybe three seconds, but it felt like a whole generation had come and gone in this moment. Lilacs, Azusa realized, breathing Yui's scent in deep as their lips separated. She smells like lilacs. She nuzzled Yui's cheek, taking as much of the smell in her lungs as she could. She would need it to carry her through the day. Lilacs have always been my favorite.

"Do you wear perfume?" she murmured as they broke their embrace.

"No. Why? Do I smell good?" Yui hitched the collar of her blazer up to her nose, sniffing.

"Yeah, you do," the kouhai sighed with a gentle smile. How could someone smell so, so good without perfume? The peal of the warning bell buoyed Azusa back up to the surface. She realized the hallways were clearing. "Five minute warning. You better hurry to sociology."

"Ah! You're right!" Yui's burning tenderness had been blown away in light of this new preoccupation. "See you in drawing media!" She waved and hurried off.

Azusa remained there a minute before heading into her classroom. Yui's heart was on fire with love, and Azusa's was melting in its heat waves.

With their concert only in four days, Afterschool Tea Time's boredom from having to rehearse the same tunes over and over turned into a sort of confidence. They were ready for the concert. Bring it on! Mugi was probably the eagerest, despite the fact she hadn't received a performance time in the solo contest yet.

As usual, the six of them took their tea. Today's special was milk tea with buttery, flaky madeleines. The ever-observant Sawako was privy to the subtle changes that permeated Music Room 3. For one, the seating arrangement at the table had changed. Light Music Club members and their sponsor were arranged more in pairs than a whole group. If the table were viewed overhead, clockwise the order would go such: Sawako, Mugi, Yui, Azusa, Mio, and Ritsu.

Azusa had sparked an engrossing convo about rock history and phenomena, and everybody was very eagerly engaged. Sawako glanced aside at Mugi. The ojou, who was more familiar with the world of classical music, soaked in everything she could. Verbally, she was conversing with her bandmates. But she had her body more aligned with Sawako. This was another observation of hers: how everyone seemed to physically communicate with each other. Mio scolded Ritsu for suggesting Courtney Love killed Kurt Cobain, but under the table Sawako could see the bassist's ankles hugging Ritsu's right leg.

"Mugi-senpai," Azusa spoke up. "Why did you bring that other keyboard?" She pointed at the Yamaha keyboard propped up against the farthest wall.

Yui's jaw fell and she gasped. There was a soft slap as her hands came to her cheeks. "You're not replacing Korgy-chan, are you?"

"Nice name," Ritsu commented.

"I could never!" Mugi blurted, turning her body away from Sawako momentarily. Embarrassed by her outburst, she apologized and sighed, "It's an impulse purchase my father made."

"Gum is an impulse purchase." Ritsu was agog with disbelief. "That is more than just gum!" How rich is she, anyway?

"I have to figure out what to do with it." Mugi looked at the Yamaha as a teacher would a problem-child: something you want the best for, but really, you just want it to disappear.

"In the meantime..." Sawako set down her cup decisively. "...I have to get y'all out to Yokohama to get this concert scheduled. Y'all available tonight?"

"We're not," replied Azusa, gesturing at Yui and herself.

"I'm not," Mio spoke, and Ritsu jumped in with, "Ditto."

Sawako turned toward Mugi to ask about her availability, but the keyboardist's rueful expression answered her. The sensei blinked and glared about the table. "None of you? Y'all 'ready made plans?"

Four heads nodded en masse. Mugi murmured something about her solo contest.

"Azusa-chan." Without warning, the sensei turned on the wee kouhai, who squeaked in surprise. The late afternoon sunlight played upon Sawako's glasses. "Since when do you speak for Yui-chan?" She grinned. "Have you made plans with her?"

Azusa's mouth wagged open, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything. Yui, on the other hand, could. "We did make plans," she responded cheerily. "We're going to this sushi bar that opened up by that restaurant Balzac." Next to her, the pigtailed girl sighed in defeat. She knew she couldn't have it both ways — they'd already kissed in public. It was time to make their relationship official and known.

"You told me you weren't dating!" Sawako exclaimed.

"We are now," Azusa smiled. She kept her head down. From under her obsidian brows, her garnet eyes peeped and flickered about the table, assessing her friends' reactions. Sawako had her hands gripping the table's edge, a look of satisfied confirmation on her face. Mugi appeared to be barely able to contain herself; her hands were clasped, as if in prayer, and her blue eyes swam and shone in wonder. To Mugi, Yui and Azusa's relationship was like the second coming. Mio had an eyebrow raised, and her eyes drifted from Yui to Azusa, as if trying to match them up as a couple. Ritsu's expression was one of quiet surprise before she grinned and turned to Sawako.

"Give it a rest. If they're dating, they're dating. We shouldn't judge them, least of all you, Sawa-chan-sensei. Still haven't found a boyfriend, eh?"

"Uhh, Ritsu-chan," Mugi spoke up, but her voice was too soft to be heard amidst the argument that now broke out betwixt teacher and drummer.

"I see you've found someone," Sawako retorted, "or has she found you?"

"Don't drag Mio into this!" Ritsu yelled, witdrawing her leg sharply from her girlfriend's grasp. "You're just jealous because everyone here's found the right person for them, and you're still alone!"

"That's not true," Mugi squeaked, but she was drowned out by her girlfriend's furious reply.

"You're eighteen! What do you know about love?"

"A helluva lot more than you. Who's the single one here?"

Mugi had had enough. Here Ritsu was, insulting her beloved Sawako, and the sensei was just taking it. What was Sawako cow-towing to Ritsu for? She was a teacher! Mugi pinched her lower lip into her front teeth and a piercing whistle of nigh canine frequencies stopped the spat. The keyboardist stared sorrily at Mio, Azusa, and Yui, who had their ears covered, before addressing Ritsu and Sawako.

"Stop fighting already!...please," she added feebly. She never had believed in lashing out to get a point across. "Ritsu-chan, what you're saying to Sawa-chan is horrible. She shouldn't have to be in a relationship to get your respect. Being that she's a teacher, she should get your respect regardless."

Ritsu blinked her topaz eyes wide. If the wolf-whistle wasn't shocking enough, soft-spoken Mugi was actually reprimanding her. And in Sawako's defense, to boot.

"Further," Mugi continued, "she's not single."

Mio saw the jolt on her girlfriend's face; she was similarly thunderstruck. There was only one appropriate was to respond to this statement, but Mugi's gentle chastisement had the drummer beaten into submission.

Mio said, "Mugi-chan...It's not that I want to fight or argue with you...but how do you know that Sawako-sensei's not single?"

Hot blood tingled in Mugi's cheeks and an electric zap shot along her flank. She simpered and giggled, causing more amorous energy to bubble up in her extremities. She was now reduced to a heartsick first year. When she spoke, her voice was a trilling sing-song used only by girls who are deeply in love. "I know because Sawa-chan and I are not single for each other." She scooted her chair closer to Sawako. The ojou's hands grasped the sensei's right hand as she kissed Sawako warmly on the cheek.

I thought so. Mio couldn't help but smile for the two of them. They weren't clingy or gross like most couples were. But the bassist could tell just how devoted they were to each other. And really, it couldn't have happened to nicer people. They were, after all, her inspiration for Light and Fluffy Time.

"Sensei, why do you look so shell-shocked?" Azusa queried.

"Well, it's...Nothing. Moot point." She waved aside the issue. Telling them about Tokudaiji wouldn't help matters any.

Ritsu leaned her elbows on the table. "So...what? Everybody fell in love with each other on Halloween?"

"Looks like it," Mio affirmed.

"It is a pretty odd coincidence," Mugi nodded, still holding Sawako's hand, "but, you know, the moon did wax full on October 31st. That might have some astrological explanation." It wasn't an explanation that would satisfy her father, though. Mugi was suddenly wondering how she would tell Holt about this one. Knowing Holt, though, he was liable to disregard or completely forget that she loved a woman. The teacher thing might ruffle his feathers. And what about Veronique?

Ritsu impetuously sat up, her face bright and animated. "I know what you can do with that Yamaha keyboard!" Gesturing excitedly, she posed her suggestion. It was a good idea to her, amazing even. Definitely legendary. Lots of rock stars did this to their instruments. Jimi Hendrix did this to his guitar...Or was it somebody else?...Maybe it was definitely Jimi Hendrix.

"That's insane!" Mio and Azusa blurted simultaneously. "She can't do that!" Mio added.

Ritsu shrugged. She leaned back and clasped her fingers behind her head, as her father did when he made an offer. "Just a suggestion. Take it or leave it."

"I...don't know." Fidgeting, Mugi gave the Yamaha her problem-child stare. "It seems...a little cruel..."

Yui nodded in fervent empathy. "How could anyone do that? I could never do Gitah like that!"

"It shows utter disrespect for the instrument," Azusa chimed, arms crossed.

"I think it sounds friggin' awesome!" Sawako exclaimed. "Though I can't see Mugi-chan doing it, I think she totally should!"

Mugi's cerulean eyes widened as she looked at the teacher. Now that she thought about it, Ritsu's idea sounded like something Sawako would do. She wondered if her girlfriend would admire her for doing such a thing to the Yamaha. The blonde girl murmured, "Well...Perhaps I could..."

Azusa was flabbergasted. "What? Now that Sawako-sensei approves of it, it's no longer cruel?"

"It's not that," said Mugi defensively. "I agree with Yui-chan. However, Gitah's not the same as that Yamaha. Gitah is more in the same league as Korgy. I could never do that to Korgy, but to the Yamaha..." She shrugged.

"Yea-hah!" Sawako laughed. "Wait'll I tell Asumi-neesan about that! This concert's gonna rock ultimate!"

The next Light Music Club meeting found the band not in Music Room 3, or even in that town. It found them on the collegiate Kobucha Street outside the tinted doors of Hair, the lesbian cosplay bar owned by Sawako's cousin. Kobucha Street was the busiest avenue on Yoko Uni's campus. It was also the biggest, spanning from one end of Yokohama to the other. It compassed several bars, restaurants, and cafes — Murphy's was a popular Friday night hang-out for the university students — and on the corner of Kobucha and Ujicha stood the enormous Yokohama University Bookstore, where in its windows countless amounts of orange and blue paraphenelia were displayed.

I wonder why all the streets are named after tea? Mugi thought, glancing about.

Behind them, on the narrow street, a bus rumbled by, igniting Yui's excitement further. She bounced up and down, whining, "When are we gonna go iiiinnnnn?"

"Stop behaving so childishly," Azusa scolded.

"This is our venue! This is where we're performing in three days! Aren't you excited?"

"Well..." The kouhai gave in and let the huge smile she had been surpressing show up full on her young face. It wasn't Budoukan or Top of the Pops or Pitchfork. But it was a step in the right direction. Her parents in their youth started out performing in the dingy jazz house where they had gotten their guitar lessons (as had Azusa in primary school). "Yeah. I can't believe we're finally performing to people who aren't our classmates!"

Sawako grinned and grabbed the doorknob. "We've stood here gawking at this place long enough. Let's go in!"

The sensei shoved the door open as noisily as she could. Framed by the blinding light of the real world outside, she sang, "Hey, this is not Sawa-neesan!"

"Sawako, you old nut!" Ritsu blinked in the wan light of the musty bar, and saw the silhouette of a very short woman behind the bar. "Last time we saw each other I did tai chi and you were a metalhead!"

"Well, one of us had to change..."

Sawako's cousin hummed reflectively a bit as her hand dragged a rag slowly across the top of the bar. Once the band members' eyes adjusted to the light, they could see her better. She was short and stocky with spikey shoulder-length brown hair with blonde high-lights. She wore plastic frame glasses and had a lip piercing. She wore a low-cut black T-shirt baring inches of tantilizing cleavage and simple flare-leg blue jeans.

"...Hey, wait a minute!" she exclaimed. "You were making fun of me, weren't you?"

"Nailed it! Took ya long enough!" Her cousin puffed up and Sawako laughed. Gesturing at the five Light Music Club members, she explained, "This is the opening band I got for your New Order show: Afterschool Tea Time. Hirasawa Yui, Tainaka Ritsu, Akiyama Mio, Kotobuki Mugi, and Nakano Azusa. This is my cousin, Yamanaka Asumi."

"Hi," Ritsu greeted. "Are you as bat-crap nuts as Sawa-chan-sensei?"

"Well met, Ritsu-neesan," Asumi said flatly, narrowing her eyes at the drummer. Addressing Sawako, she inquired, "Which one did you say was the...how did you put it?...the 'impertinent runt with the forehead of doom'?"

"Runt!" the drummer squawked. There was an insult she hadn't heard in ten years. In primary school she was known as Runtsu. "Look who's talkin'," she muttered angrily.

Asumi's hazel eyes drifted from Ritsu to Mio standing directly behind her and they lit up instantly. "Weh-hell...Who ordered the late night entertainment?"

Mio blinked. "Nani?"

Asumi stepped out from behind the bar and pranced up to the bassist. Getting a good gander at the raven-haired girl, she remarked sarcastically, "Lay off the cookie dough once in a while, aneesan. Look at that body — it's disgusting!"

A virtual shadow fell over Mio's eyes, which were now hooded by her bangs. She self-consciously brought a hand to her middle. Am I really getting fat?

Asumi giggled and elbowed Mio in the ribs. "Just kidding, Mio-neesan." Then the bartender was back to ogling. Mio squeaked in alarm as Asumi reached from behind to cup her breasts through her uniform. "I could create a new drink named after your knockers!" She called out to the kitchen help: "Konoka-san! Make me a Stacked Bass Player and hold the cantaloupes!"

POW!

The hit came not from Mio, but Ritsu. "Hands off," she yelled as Asumi sank to the floor with a pulsing head-lump.

"Understood..." the bartender muttered dizzily. "I'll just look...Y'know, kinda like being a diabetic in Baskin Robbins..."

"More like a crackbrain in a padded room with a rubber duck! I take back what I said earlier — you're worse than Sawa-chan-sensei!"

Moments later Asumi was back on her feet, regarding Mio with a huge grin. "I sure hope you're the frontwoman of this band. The girls here'll love you!"

"I'm not," Mio said quickly. This was becoming a realization of one of her worst nightmares. "She is." She pointed at Yui.

Azusa pressed closer to Yui, giving Asumi her warning stare as the bartender approached the senpai. Asumi paced a slow circle around the couple. "Well...You're no Mio-neesan, but you've got some appeal of your own...Do you ski?"

"No," Yui responded, her head and eyes following Asumi's path.

"You should try it. You got the legs for it."

Azusa hugged Yui's arm, growling a little. She didn't like this. They were a band that was going to play at Asumi's bar and as such the bartender should've been judging them based on their music. Rather, Asumi was assessing their looks and sex appeal, as if they were strippers auditioning for Amateur Night.

"So, aneesan," Asumi cooed, sidling up to Mio, "what's your favorite sex position?"

Outraged, Ritsu grabbed a salt shaker and hurled it at the lecherous bartender. Her aim was off, though, way off. It soared toward the kitchen entrance from which emerged a cute girl — a little younger than Azusa — with long brown hair, shelf bangs, and a raspberry-colored school uniform. She blinked in surprise. The salt shaker nearly clocked the poor girl when —

PSHING!

In a rush of cold steel, the salt shaker was bisected. Salt exploded from its former container like early snow. Ritsu regretted throwing the shaker when she found herself face-to-face with the business end of a nodachi. She stared down its great length right into the slanted jet eyes of another girl in similar attire as the first girl. This girl had shoulder-length obsidian hair gathered in an edgy ponytail on the right side of her head.

"I will destroy anyone who brings danger to Konoka-ojousama!" she declared. Her voice was a terrifyingly deep alto roar.

Ritsu's trembling hands flew up. "Hey, cool your jets there. I didn't mean to hit your friend, I swear I didn't!" she gulped.

The samurai's short eyebrows lifted slightly as she reconsidered decapitating Ritsu. She's friendly, the drummer realized. "I meant for the salt shaker to hit Asumi-aho. She had her hands all over my Mio!"

The girl's face softened and she lowered her sword away from Ritsu's face. Sheathing it, she muttered darkly, "When Asumi-san put her hand up Konoka-ojousama's skirt I wanted to kill her."

The other girl, with the shelf bangs, pouted. "I just got you to stop calling me ojousama, Secchan!"

The girl with the sword blushed. "U-uh, sorry about that, ojousama — I mean...!"

Asumi laughed and detached herself from Mio. "I see you've met Konoka-san and Setsuna-san. They just recently started working here."

Mio shuddered. She felt deep sympathy for anyone who had to work under Asumi.

"Konoka-san..." the bartender gestured at the girl with the shelf bangs. "...could easily work her way up to manager with her mad culinary skills. And Setsuna-san..." she gestured at the girl with the nodachi. "...insists she has no skills, but she makes a mean tequila sunset. Knocks everybody out, so it does."

"I wish it wouldn't," Setsuna murmured shyly. "I'm trying to fix it so it doesn't knock people out."

"Ahh, if it ain't broke, why fix it?"

"But—"

"Stop beatin' yourself up, get behind that bar, and fix up six tequila sunsets!" Turning her palms toward the ceiling, Setsuna complied. Asumi faced the Light Music Club and declared, "First round's on me!"

"But," Azusa spoke up, "we're underage. Most of us."

"She's got middle schoolers working in a bar," said Sawako. "Legality is the last thing on her mind."

"Would you like something to eat?" Konoka offered, producing six menus. "The soup du jour is a Chinese sweet and sour sort. I highly recommend it."

"Sold," Mugi smiled. Konoka got everyone's orders in a memo book, then hurried into the kitchen.

Asumi brought the band and her cousin to a cozy padded booth and sat with them. Yui liked booths before, but now that she could sit so close to Azusa, she loved them. They had just gotten settled when Konoka breezed out of the kitchen on roller blades, balancing a tray loaded with piping hot delicious food. The sweet and sour soup Mugi ordered never once spilled over the rim of the bowl.

"That was fast," Sawako commented as Konoka set out the food. "You're like Speedy Gonzolas."

"That's what she said," Asumi winked. "'She' in this case would be Setsuna-san, eh, Konoka-san?"

The brune ojou stood simpering a moment or two before the joke dawned on her. Blushing slightly, she giggled, "Secchan and I haven't gone that far yet."

"Right. Take your time. You're both young."

It was then that Setsuna brought six tequila sunsets to their table. Konoka leaned a gentle hand on her girlfriend's shoulder and nuzzled her neck. Swiftly serving up the drinks, Setsuna murmured, "Compliments of Asumi-san. I tried to put less tequila in it. Enjoy." She bowed and followed Konoka into the kitchen.

"They're cute together," Yui commented with a giggle.

Asumi nodded assent. "That they are, Yui-neesan. Oh, that was so a Lucky Star reference! Score!"

To say that the Light Music Club was bombed was an understatement. Inhibitions had been shed and everyone's true colors were showing. Everyone, that is, save for Azusa. The kittenish kouhai was hit especially hard by the tequila sunset due to her size. Setsuna had indeed worked her magic (no pun intended): Nakano Azusa was out like a light.

"I'm jealous," Yui half-whined, mostly-slurred. "She gets to sleep!"

She gets to sleep. Mio found that wildly funny. She was slumped back in her seat and nearly sank to the floor in laughter. Hauling herself back up, she gasped, "Do you...heeheehee...Do you want to sleep, Yui?"

"Yeah, I do..."

"Eheheheh. Well, then...Go to sleep!" Yui stared blankly ahead of her, only dimly aware of Mio's shoe flying past her head. The bassist blinked her bleary gray eyes, aggravated. "How'd I miss? Your...your 'ead was right there."

Sawako was completely oblivious to Yui and Mio's drunken exchange. Contrary to most people's impressions of her, the teacher was actually dead silent when she was drunk. It wasn't something she knew how to explain. She definitely didn't feel inhibited. She...just didn't feel the need to speak.

To her left, Mugi was tugging at her sleeve. Sawako turned to face her girlfriend, whose face was flushed with tequila and whose eyes swirled and shone brightly.

"Sawa-chaaaan," she sighed, letting her head drop heavily on the sensei's shoulder. "The room is...moving...Gosh, no wonder Holt likes doing this..."

Sawako blinked, dimly surprised that Mugi had so rudely called her father by name. She opened her mouth to acknowledge this point. She ended up closing it, deciding that speaking took more effort than she was willing to put out.

Mio was laughing again, this time at Ritsu. The drummer was also floored by the power of tequila (which only the power of gin can compete with), but not to the point of passing out. She was trying to dig through Mio's pockets...if she could find Mio's pockets.

"Stop movin', Mio-chuan!" Ritsu protested in the loudest voice anyone had ever heard her use. Girls occupying nearby tables turned to look at them.

The bassist was practically breathless with laughter. 'I'm not, you drunken slut!"

"Hey, hey!" Ritsu wagged a finger in Mio's face. "I won' argue the slut part for now...but I'll be damned if I'm drunk!"

"Then I guess you're goin' a hell! Hahaha!"

"Bitch, please." Ritsu hiccuped, laying her head down on the table. "I 'as doomed to go to hell as soon as I crawled outta the womb...Li'l thin' called predestination!"

Yui raised her weighted glass which swayed in her weighted arm. "I don' know wha' that is, but I believe in it! To predewhatever!"

"yeah!" Ritsu shrieked, smacking her glass against Yui's. "We'll star' our own church! I'll be the priest 'n you c'n be the Mother Superior!"

"Guys...? Guys, guys, guys!" Mugi threw her hands up and Mio giggled. "I...have something really important to say!" The keyboardist stood up, nearly falling over in the process. Mio was rocking helplessly with laughter at Mugi's determined expression. The blonde girl raised her right hand, as if to make a vow, then brought it to her heart, turned her Romanesque nose upward, and closed her eyes. "I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of Political Corruption and Hopelessly Eternal Debt—"

"Okay, sit down! No political statements!" Ritsu yanked Mugi's blazer, forcing the ojou to sit down.

Tsumugi wasn't finished, though. "Why doesn't Holt get involved in international politics?" she babbled. "He could save Americaaaa!"

Chuckling, Mio withdrew her hand from her blazer pocket. She was holding her digital camera. Ritsu sat up and exclaimed, "That's wha' I was lookin' for earlier!...I think."

"These are precious moments, you guys," Mio slurred, snapping a picture of the unconscious Azusa. "We nee' to preserve them...'cause...'cause I'm gonna miss you guys..."

Tears bulged from Yui's brown eyes. "Mio-chan...I'm gonna miss you, too..."

"Stop being so morbid," Ritsu ordered, laying her head back down on the table. "No one's dying or anything."

"Well, we all...die eventually, Ricchan," Mio argued, swaying slightly. She lifted her glass to her mouth, then realized it was empty. "Tha's all our goals'n'dreams come down to...eventual death..." She began laughing again, leaning against the table's edge. "Ohohoho...Why's tha' funny? Hahahaha!"

"Because you're...technologically retarded...?"

Still guffawing, Mio swung her fist out at Ritsu's head, but missed and hit the table. Azusa, amazingly, kept snoozing, seeming neither to hear the slam of fist on wood nor feel its shock. Mio cussed a blue streak as she shook out her sore, tingling hand.

"Gahh, Ricchan, why's your 'ead made outta wood?...'Cause you're druuuuunnnnnk!"

"I'm not drunk!"

"Well, I do certainly hope you're drunk," said Asumi, approaching their booth. "Because if you're sober, there's something very wrong with you." This made Mio howl with laughter. Addressing the whole table, Asumi offered, "'Nother round, ladies? Though Azusa-nekochan doesn't look fit to take another."

Yui queried, "If I take another drink...will I...be able to sleep? Like Azu-nyan?"

"Probably."

"Then I'll take another..."

Asumi nodded. "Anyone else?...Sawa-neesan?" she inquired as Sawako wordlessly raised her hand. "Right. Two tequila sunsets comin' right up." As the bartender made her way to the kitchen, it dawned on her that she'd seen hair nor hide of Konoka or Setsuna. For the past hour Asumi had been behind the bar, zoning out; business at Hair never picked up until around 20:00.

She poked her head in the kitchen entrance. Konoka and Setsuna were cuddled up on the floor with their backs against a tall cabinet. As they swapped the nearly empty Jose Cuervo bottle back and forth, Setsuna flipped through an old yearbook from their first year in middle school.

"Y'know," Setsuna slurred. Her face was pinkish and she wore a silly grin on her face. "I look back on those years...when I couldn't speak to you...'n I just laaaaaaugh."

"I don't," Konoka exclaimed, stung. With an effort, she sat up. "You really...hur' me, Secchan..."

Setsuna blinked in amazement. The healer passed her the bottle, and the samurai finished it off. Setting the bottle and the yearbook aside, she faced Konoka. "I'm sooooo sorry 'bout that."

Konoka grinned and waved her hand. "'S okay. Really."

"No. It's...gonna be diff'rent from...now on, Kono-chan..." Setsuna let her head, heavy with inebriation, drop to Konoka's shoulder. "We're gon' talk about deep'n'heavy stuff...alla time!...Soooo...Wha' deep'n'heavy things you wan' talk about?"

Sighing, Konoka leaned her head against her girlfriend's. She traced her fingers along the path of Setsuna's hair, right to where it was bound on the right side of her head. Her brown eyes drifted about in search of something intense to talk about. They settled on the Jose Cuervo bottle. She beamed. "Tequila!"

"Really?" Setsuna mumbled.

"No," Konoka laughed. "JK. Uhh..." Still shaking with mirth, she looked up at the ceiling. Finding nothing there, she faced Setsuna again. "I'll let you in on a secret..."

The samurai lifted her short eyebrows in interest.

"I always..." The healer paused to giggle. She ran her fingers delicately along Setsuna's thin lips. "I always...thought you were kinda hot..."

"H-huh?" Had she been sober, Setsuna would have torn herself away, babbled a convenient excuse, and ran off. But the booze had her limbs anchored and her inhibitions down. She remained seated as she was, allowing Konoka to trace her hands along her angular face, down the porcelain skin of her throat.

"Those bike shorts you wear drive me crazy," the healer purred. She undid Setsuna's necktie. The silken tie slid out from under her collar smoothly and swiftly. "Everytime a convenient wind blows your skirt up...I just lose my mind..." Setsuna slid backwards a little until she was reclined flat on her back. Konoka mounted her and unhooked the buttons on her blazer.

Asumi turned and left the kitchen then. There was no reason for her to stay. Crazier things have happened in that kitchen.

RECORDING

Chapter Fifteen

Écrives-Tu avec la Man Gauche?

Everything is A-okay, Ritsu thought cheerily, her head still buzzing pleasantly from the tequila sunset. A similarly pleasant sunset looked upon the drummer, her girlfriend, Yui, and Azusa as they stumbled along the quiet streets of their hometown. Against the laws of biology, Ritsu had sobered up before Mio, who leaned against the brunette tipsily. The two of them held hands and walked ahead of Yui and Azusa.

Azusa was in quite a state. Upon waking up the kouhai was immediately slammed with a mind-numbing headache. And her mind wasn't the only thing that was numb. Her tongue lolled heavily in her mouth, senseless but useable for speaking. Azusa, however, didn't feel like speaking. Everyone's voices — even Mio's — felt like a rusty spike in the base of her skull.

A curse on all tequila, the kouhai thought miserably. She wished she could lay down.

"Mio-chan," Yui called, and Azusa flinched. "Can I see your camera?"

The bassist gripped the cord attached to her digital camera and pulled it out of her pocket. She passed it to Yui.

The elder guitarist scrolled through the blurry, poorly-focused pictures Mio had taken in Hair. At last she came upon the one she was looking for. She showed it to Azusa.

It was a decent photograph of the kouhai in her drunken stupor. Her tiny hands were balled into fists, her wrists crossed cat-like on the table, and her face was mashed against them. Azusa found the picture genuinely funny, but she couldn't work up the energy to laugh. "'S funny," she whispered, dropping her head against Yui's arm. No wonder I've no recollection of this afternoon.

Yui returned the camera to Mio and put her arm around Azusa. "You okay?"

Azusa closed her eyes. "Just exhausted."

"How can you be exhausted?...Sorry," she whispered as the pigtailed girl covered her ears.

"She's got a hangover," Ritsu told Yui over her shoulder. "That's what happens after you go to sleep drunk."

The four of them continued down the sleepy subdivision. The streets were empty for a time until parked cars clustered more and more on the curbs. Mio couldn't help but feel a little déjà vu. She had been here before. She had. Ahead of her she could see the sycamore tree which blocked her everyday destination as a child which was….

"Oh, my," she gasped, lifting her head off Ritsu's shoulder.

"Brings back memories, doesn't it?" the drummer grinned.

"What does?" Yui queried.

"Torimizu Primary. Where Mio and I went to primary school."

The elder guitarist squinted and shielded her eyes. An enormous tree blocked her view of Torimizu.

Ritsu smirked. "We should head over there for old times' sake, Mio."

"It's 17:00. School's out," the bassist said flatly.

"N'uh-uh. Mite." The drummer jabbed a finger at Torimizu's glowing announcement sign. A bulletin posted next to the likeness of a smiling apple read: PARENTS' NIGHT TONIGHT. "I wonder if Abe-sensei still works there…"

"I think she retired," said Mio.

"More like you hope she retired! Let's go say hi."

They were at a street corner. Across the street stood Torimizu like an everlasting sprite sentinel over pencils, books, and teachers' dirty looks. Ritsu and Mio's arms pulled as they walked in opposite directions: the drummer across the street toward Torimizu, the bassist around the corner away from Torimizu.

"Come on, Mio!" Ritsu laughed. "Not scared, are you?"

"Yes."

"What do you think's gonna happen if we say hi to Abe-sensei?"

"I don't know…"

"Well then, let's go!"

"No! Abe-sensei hated me!"

"Ne? She hated me, too."

Azusa squeezed her eyes shut, her brain stinging and spinning with every ear-splitting word that was exchanged betwixt the two lovers. Closing her eyes, however, made her feel like she was spinning, and the infinite blackness created by her eyelids as well.

She finally spoke up. "I don't care where we go, so long as you both stop screaming."

"Then it's decided," Ritsu crowed, punching the air. "To Torimizu-gakuen we go!"

Mio still adamantly refused to go. In the end she settled for waiting at the corneruntil the three of them would return. Just as their silhouettes disappeared behind the sycamore, Mio heard the slow, heavy slaps of shoe soles on the sidewalk. She turned and, squeaking in shock, found herself face-to-face with a strong-looking man old enough to be her father.

"Are you looking for a job, miss?" he rumbled. He smelled like bad cologne and cigarettes.

"No…!" Shell-shocked, Mio scurried off toward Torimizu, screaming, "Ricchan, wait for meee!"

The three of them were just at the primary school's double door entrance when Mio ran up to them. Ritsu joined her hand with her girlfriend's and inquired, "What changed your mind?"

The bassist shuddered. "Let's say it was more of a push factor than a pull factor."

Ritsu smiled softly, knowing something had scared Mio like always. It was either that or being back at Torimizu that made the drummer feel extra nostalgic and affectionate toward her girlfriend. She hugged Mio's arm, running her hand up and down the sleeve, and the raven-haired girl ceased shaking.

The clatter of the double doors felt like a flashback to Mio and Ritsu as the four of them entered the fluorescent-lighted main hallway. The extracurricular classrooms existed in this hallway. If one kept going down this hall and turned left, he or she would be heading towards the bathrooms, drinking fountains, headmaster's office, nurse's office, gym, and cafeteria. Right would take him or her to the actual classrooms. Ritsu could smell crayons and glue as they passed grouchy old Kimino-sensei's art room and turned right.

Mio hesitated. "Abe-sensei's room was at the very end of this hallway, right?"

Ritsu nodded. "Ah-yup." She flicked a thumb over her shoulder. "Headmaster-sensei's office was down at the very opposite end. Long walk from Abe-sensei's room to there."

Mio grinned. "Which you had to make frequently."

Yui gaped at the drummer in amazement. "Ricchan got sent to the headmaster's office a lot?"

"That surprises you?" the bassist laughed. "She was awful, the bane of all teachers and staff. She talked nonstop in class, threw spitballs, and started food fights in lunch."

All was quiet for a moment as Ritsu's (apologetic) input was awaited. When they heard nought, they turned to see the drummer simpering, eyes glazed, a shimmer of sparkles dancing about her. She had the aura of I'm Reliving the Glory Days.

"And," Mio continued bitterly, "she doesn't seem to feel one bit bad about it." Agitated, she pulled a Sharpie from her blazer pocket, uncapped it, and scrawled something on her girlfriend's forehead.

"What did you write?" the drummer demanded to know. She vaguely traced her hand about her brow.

"'Stormy petrel,'" Mio grinned, capping her marker. "Abe-sensei used to call you that, remember?"

"What's a stormy petrel?" Yui asked.

"A class clown," Ritsu replied. "Abe-sensei had all sorts of words for the most basic things. She called Mio 'sinistromanuel,' which means lefty."

Azusa said, "It sounds like she reads the thesaurus in her spare time."

They headed down the long, narrow hallway, Ritsu anxiously protesting that she couldn't face Mrs. Abe with 'stormy petrel' written on her forehead. Mio dragged her along by her cheek, refusing to take her to the girls' room and wash the Kanji off. Their prediction proved correct: Mrs. Abe's room was the very last one, as the sign by her door revealed. Before they could enter Yui pointed at the doorframe. "What's that?"

"Ah!" Mio crouched on the floor. On the lower half of the doorframe were some etches made with a permanent marker. Half the etches had the initials "TR" written next to them; the other half said "AM." Mio explained, "These were mine and Ricchan's height comparison charts."

"Oh! Ui and I had the same thing when we were little."

"Hmph," Ritsu grunted. "I never was taller…but I will be someday."

Readjusting her skirt, Mio stood up. The knotty woodwork of Mrs. Abe's door silently confronted her. Sighing deeply, the bassist raised her fist to knock, then lowered it. She ran her hand through her bangs, tugged at the tie about her neck. Groaning impatiently, Ritsu opened the door and shoved Mio in.

Mio stumbled, nearly tripping over that desk in the back corner confined for insubordinate students (namely one Tainaka-san). The bassist's slate eyes widened and darted frantically. It was both a flashback and a nightmare all rolled into one. It was there, all there. The thirty-one desks arranged into rows with that one seat by itself. The chalkboard. Mio's heart pounded volcanically as she stiffly turned her head toward the back. She gasped. Yes…That was there, too. The table. The wobbly round table li'l Akiyama Mio, age six, was remanded to during penmanship lessons.

On its own accord, Mio's left hand drifted to settle in her pocket. When she was little she habitually stuck it in her pocket to keep herself from using it. Her chest felt stiff and tight; she hadn't been breathing. With an effort, Mio drew in a ragged little breath.

"Hello…?"

The raven-haired girl squealed and jumped three feet into the air. She knew that voice: deep, and with the texture of rocks crunching under a tire. Mio turned, forcing herself to face the malice of her existence. Her first grade teacher!

Mrs. Abe looked…well, the same mostly. She was chubbier, had more wrinkles; and her eyes were smaller, beadier. The old woman's thin — almost nonexistent — eyebrows knitted as she queried, "Are you perhaps connatural to Saotome Tadashi? You compass sufficient physical similarity."

"N-no…Um, hello." Mio stood up straight, lifting her chin. She realized it was crude to stand with one hand in her pocket. She clasped them in front of her hips. "It's me."

Mrs. Abe seemed to be under stress. She huffed in annoyance. "Yes, it's me, too. Now that we're in accordance that we're ourselves, why not you to me do state your appellation and the business which you with me bear?"

She hasn't changed a bit. That was a relief in its own weird way. Mio smiled. "I'm here because an old classmate of mine and I were in the neighborhood, and we thought we'd drop by." At the mention of an old classmate, Mrs. Abe set down her pencil and stared intently at Mio, trying to put a name to her face. The raven-haired girl continued, "In fact, I know this other classmate was SO EAGER to see you…" Mio leaned an arm out the door. Mrs. Abe could hear a very familiar voice, but with a deeper timber: "Chotto, chotto, Miooo!" and with a squawk, the stormy petrel was dragged in.

The old woman's jaw fell. She slumped in her chair, as if knocked back by the raw force of memory. "Akiyama-san and Tainaka-san…" She closed her eyes. It couldn't be. Akiyama-san to Mrs. Abe was still a shy sinistromanuel, reticent and easily spooked. Tainaka-san had been a disorderly upstart, always outraged, always questioning, never raising her hand first.

One of them seemingly hadn't changed at all.

"Tainaka-san," Mrs. Abe snapped, "the state of your uniform is abominable! Fix it now!"

"Hai!" Ritsu shoved her shirttails in her skirt and buttoned her blazer. She hated the suffocating, enclosed feeling it gave her.

"And your stature! Plumb your backside! Akiyama-san bears a higher height — she is absolutely Junoesque — and she does not angle her spine with the manner which you do. Are you aware of the amount of beanstalk women who slouch? You, Tainaka-san, being knee-high to an ant, bear no excuse!"

"Hai!" Ritsu threw her shoulders back and lifted her chin. She felt like a giraffe.

"Qu'est-ce que c'est?" Mrs. Abe squawked, jabbing a finger. "Your pretty visage, Tainaka-san, vandalized! I have knowledge that you favored scribing notes on your appendage, but now your sinciput? An all-out tribulation it will be for you to read that."

"She did it!" Ritsu cried, pointing at Mio.

"Tattletale!" Mio protested.

Once Mrs. Abe was through chastising her former students for their various misdoings, from Ritsu's hair to Mio's socks, she resumed working at her desk and caught up with them.

"More years it has been from the last instant we exchanged sentences than this old educator can fathom. How many years do the duo of you have?"

"Eighteen," said Ritsu.

"Seventeen," said Mio.

"By St. Peter, is that so?" As eccentric as Mrs. Abe was, she still had that well-aren't-you-the-cleverst-little-boy-or-girl-in-the-world voice that all primary teachers had. "The cognitive weight of university must be heavy on your brains. To where will you go come April?"

Their answer was one and simultaneous: "Japan Women's University."

"Superb university," Mrs. Abe acclaimed. "My daughter went there, and my granddaughter is now a sophomore there." It chilled Mio and Ritsu's blood to think of Mrs. Abe raising a child. "What will your majors be?"

Again, a synchronous answer: "Undeclared." Mio added, "I'm leaning towards rhetoric."

"And with that major you will do what?" the old woman exclaimed. "Creative writing is a most impractical and decadent course of study! Rhetoric majors only end up working check-out aisles at Wal-Mart! And you, Tainaka-san, undeclared? Ridiculous!" She was yelling so loud that Mio could see poor hungover Azusa wincing in the hallway. "Compass you not the foggiest suggestion of a major? Decide! Decide!"

"Right now?" Ritsu peeped.

"Yes!" When the drummer's immediate response was not forthcoming, Mrs. Abe made a revolving motion with her hand and barked, "C'mon, c'mon, declare something! To become more green we all cannot do, and still the evening moves forward!"

"Zoological anthropology!"

"What?" Mio laughed.

Her breathing hard and fast with a panic similar to that of a cornered animal, Ritsu looked at her girlfriend and shrugged. It was the first thing that popped into her head. Once she thought about it, she added, "Actually, maybe I'll study music or something."

"Oh, you associate yourself with an orchestra? What do you play?"

"Drums."

"Percussion," Mrs. Abe corrected. She sat up and sighed, "Jeez Louise, but always you percussed your bureau with writing utensils! It was on Parents' Night of your juvenile days that I did to your mother and father recommend that you get evaluated for ADHD."

A look of dawning realization seeped into Ritsu's face. "And do you know, to this day, I'm still getting pamphlets in the mail?"

"You're welcome." Mrs. Abe looked at Mio. "I suppose you've regressed to this scene of yours from eleven years ago to me about your…condition confront."

The bassist's coal eyebrows knitted. "Condition?"

"You know...Your..." The old woman gestured at her left hand.

"Oh, that." Mio's eyebrows smoothed, but her mouth tightened. She was wondering if Mrs. Abe still forced lefties to write right-handed when a young couple bustled into the classroom. They looked so prim, perfect, and ordinary that the raven-haired girl thought they walked out of an eHarmony ad.

"Excuse us," the woman said. "Are you Abe-san?"

"Yes." Mrs. Abe folded her liver-spotted hands and sat up. "And you are...?"

"Tadashi's parents." The woman's response was short, sharp, with a strong note of hurt in her voice. She and her combed and shaved husband shoved past Mio and Ritsu to stand directly in front of Mrs. Abe's desk. The woman's lower lip quivered and the man gritted his teeth.

Nothing daunted, the teacher smiled. "Saotome-san is an excellent student. He—"

"Yeah, we're not here to talk about his grades," the man snarled in a nasally tenor voice.

Mrs. Abe blinked, but forced her face and voice to remain pleasant. "I'm sorry. What about, then, is this?"

The woman thrust a sheet of stationary paper at the teacher. Mio winced at the handwriting. It was absolutely horrid, even for a first grader. The woman ground out, "This is the letter he tried to write to his grandmother. She's in the hospice unit of Mercy General Hospital with dementia and leukemia!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry." Mrs. Abe sounded genuinely sad and sympathetic for the couple. Ritsu knew it would be impolite for the teacher to ask, What do I have to do with this? but felt it should be asked nonetheless. It was truly grievous to lose one's mother slowly to such diseases, but you don't just barge into your son's primary school and peg it on his teacher.

Mio, however, knew where this was going.

"This letter is illegible! A normal person couldn't read this, let alone a demented old woman!" The paper rattled as the woman shook it furiously. "I told him, write it with your left hand, and he broke down crying and said he couldn't because you forbade it!"

Mrs. Abe held a long, pensive silence, her eyes focused on the paper fluttering inches from her worn face. Mio sighed, thinking about how dedicated this Tadashi must have been. The bassist had only used her right hand in school. She had thought Mrs. Abe was the one who was wrong, not herself, and so she had adamantly refused to reform into a righty. This Tadashi must have believed Mrs. Abe when she told him he was diseased.

"My duty," the teacher said quietly, "is to teach my students to write well."

"Does this look like good handwriting to you?" the man roared. Ritsu had to refrain from giggling; his yelling sounded like Mio's fearful screeching. "This is discrmination! We'll file against you, so we will!" He slammed the paper on her desk, winced for he had hurt his pinky in the process, and minced out of the room with his wife.

"Tell me something," Ritsu said whimsically once the perfect couple had left. "Do you think she can satisfy him in the bedroom? I'm gonna go with 'no.'"

"As rude as they were," Mio murmured, "I have to agree with that man on this: that is not good handwriting." Her voice gained not volume so much as confidence when she addressed Mrs. Abe. "Just because it's written with your right hand doesn't automatically mean it's better." The bassist felt bad about the confrontation her former teacher had endured, but she couldn't help lashing out a bit. "You spent three school trimesters trying to pound right-handedness into me! A whole school year of being laughed at, called 'southpaw' and 'sister mantel,' and having everyone sing 'right is right and left is wrong' at me at recess! And for what?" she exclaimed. She felt close to tears as she scrolled through those tumultuous memories. Being in a relationship with a childhood friend compels one to look for their buddy in those memories. Mio glanced appreciatively at Ritsu, realizing the drummer never participated in the singing at recess, or any other lefty teasing for that matter.

"It's all been for nothing, sensei," Mio concluded with a sigh. "My right hand is as useless as it's ever been."

She was pleased to see that Mrs. Abe was speechless for a moment. The sensei sat at her desk, staring at the calendar spread across it without seeing it. She was motionless, unblinking, which Mio and Ritsu found a little unsettling. The bassist was eager for Mrs. Abe's response, expecting her to admit she was wrong and apologize.

What Mio got instead was: "Was it that you abandoned the course of dextromanuelism following your primary year here?"

"Hai," the raven-haired girl admitted.

"So it goes. To transfer your strength and orientation from your sinister half to your dexter half is not something which in the course of a single year can be achieved. It is a life-long process." Mrs. Abe took her pencil in her right hand and jotted something on a post-it note. "And, just like any muscle in your body, so you use it less, so it becomes weaker."

Ritsu narrowed her eyes at Mrs. Abe. Something here was fitting in, scarily slow and fast at the same time. Mio shrank back a little and started to softly inquire something when the drummer shot forward and exclaimed, "Abe-sensei, are you a lefty?"

Mio looked at Mrs. Abe sharply, her silver eyes wide. She had never thought about that.

The old woman hesitated to answer, but that was enough of an answer for the two lovers. Talk about your self-loathing, Ritsu thought. She grunted in surprise as Mio seized her by her blazer.

The bassist's eyes were saucer-like. "Ricchan," she hissed, "she was like me and she changed!" Consumed by passionate outrage, she shook her girlfriend. "Why? I don't understand!"

"You know," Mrs. Abe spoke up. Mio released Ritsu and lunged forward to crouch before the desk of her newfound, albeit enigmatic, comrade. "You young people so liberal are...with everything, it seems. But when I was a mite, it was different. Teachers were demanded to teach children to write with their right hands.

"My teacher was not so direct as I was. So she said, 'To write properly, you must hold your pencil in your right hand, like so.' I tried, I really had. So hopeless I thought it was until I realized, 'Another hand I have which probably more useful is.' And so found out I, it was. Thus I was sinistromanuel. So my teacher said, and she used that very word."

Mio's eyes welled up with tears. She is just like me...

"There began that project of making myself dextromanuel. For a while I was as Yamoto-san was: ambidextrous. But using my sinister hand I did less and less, and before I knew it, its strength had slipped away from me.

"I felt a sense of accomplishment. But also, it seemed I had forsaken an immense part of my identity—"

"It's a big part of my identity, too! I can't imagine writing with my other hand! Oh, Abe-sensei!" Mio gushed, hooking herself to the old woman's leg. "We're so alike! And I thought you were evil!"

Ritsu dragged Mio off Mrs. Abe, yelling, "Get a grip, Mio! And not on her!" Once she got her girlfriend at a safe distance from the sensei, the drummer queried, "Why do you try to turn lefties into righties if you know you abandoned your identity?"

Mio stared at Mrs. Abe, hungry for an answer from her new mentor. The old woman was like a cultural relic from another era, when left-handedness was forbidden in school. The bassist saw her in a whole new light — an image of perfection.

"If forsake your identity you do, it may be better in the long run." Mrs. Abe focused her beady eyes on Mio. "Akiyama-san endured a surplus amount of grief for reason of existing in this world as a sinistromanuel," she spoke apologetically. "But if she had committed herself to becoming a dextromanuel, saving herself a lifetime of grief she could have done."

The bassist gasped. Could she have stopped it? She was still known as Southpaw, especially in Spanish class where she was also known as Izquierda. At least twice a day someone would stop her writing by asking, "Are you left-handed?" Her affirmative response would be met either with praise or scorn. Could all of that have been prevented?

Ritsu was livid. Her arms came around Mio protectively as she yelled, "She shouldn't have to change herself to make everybody else happy!" Without thinking, she cried, "I love Mio! I love that she's a left-handed crybaby! I wouldn't have her any other way!"

Mio twisted around in the drummer's arms to give her that dewy-eyed look of adoration that Ritsu loved so much. Ritsu returned the unspoken sentiment before the bassist's expression turned to one of fearful caution. Blanching, she muttered, "Uh, Ritsu..."

Realization hit Ritsu like a ton of lead. She jumped away from Mio and gave her a platonic, if not awkward, pat on the shoulder. "I love m-my best friend," she stammered in the most innocent voice she could muster, "and I love her as nothing more."

Ritsu may have been a good liar. But Mrs. Abe had seen what she had seen. Her wrinkled face hardened and she ordered: "Get out."

"What were you thinking?" Mio demanded incredulously. The soft porchlight of Ritsu's house washed and shadowed her face, revealing its harsh angles. Yui had departed long ago to take AZusa home. A biting wind kicked up, carrying with it a cool, metallic smell. It would rain soon.

"I wasn't thinking," Ritsu sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry, Mio."

"It's okay." The bassist forgave her immediately, automatically. It was difficult to hold a grudge against someone as sweet and considerate as Ritsu. I love that she's a left-handed crybaby. That made Mio's heart melt. How can she love things about me that I resent?

Ritsu looked up at Mio, her swimming hazel eyes a mix of affection and anger. "I hate it," growled she, "when people hurt you the way they do."

The bassist chuckled. "I'm fine, Ricchan—"

But Ritsu shook her head fervently. "Abe-sensei had you in the palm of her hand, Mio. If I hadn't stepped in, it would've been first grade all over again: you hating yourself for being left-handed and trying to change!" She squeezed her eyes shut, trembling with rage. Flashbacks played themselves in her eyelids: six-year-old Mio sobbing, "I'm such an idiot! I can't write left-handed and I don't feel right writing right-handed!" Ritsu had hated Mrs. Abe for hurting Mio the first time around, and she wasn't about to let the teacher subject her beloved girlfriend to a second time around.

"Oh, Ritsu," Mio sighed, taking the drummer in her arms. She could feel her trembling before Ritsu decompressed and settled her head on the bassist's chest. In her right ear she could hear the slow, steady thump of Mio's heart. She moved her hands up until her arms were hugging her girlfriend's neck. She's really...protective, Mio thought with a smile. I never knew Ritsu worried about me so much.

"I guess I really lost my temper, huh?' the drummer sighed, drained. She herself was a bit frightened by the way she had acted.

"Yeah," Mio agreed. "That was either the dumbest...or the sweetest thing you've ever done for me."

The bassist pulled away momentarily and they locked eyes, luring one another in with their stares. Mio cupped her hands around Ritsu's face — she'd always loved how soft and chubby it was — and leaned in to kiss her. But the drummer's headband, already loose on her head, was caught in the wild gale. First it knocked against Mio's face, causing knife-like pain to lance and snap through her teeth. Then it was blown all the way across the street.

"I got it," Mio yelped. She started to give chase after the headband, but Ritsu caught her by her sleeve.

"It's okay, Mio." The bassist turned to see her girlfriend grinning at her, her tawny bangs whipped to and fro in the squall. Mio had never seen Ritsu look so carefree without her headband. Her bangs didn't ripple so much as toss about. Her aurum eyes were hidden and revealed in frequent and irregular intervals. "I got a hundred of 'em in my closet, and I gotta hold up my end of the deal, ne?"

Mio's eyes shone as she stared at Ritsu in awe. She couldn't help being bewildered and charmed by the brunette when she wore her bangs down. The look was so...becoming. And cute. Mio smiled, nodded assent, and stepped closer to Ritsu. She pulled the petite drummer closer to her, holding her by her waist, and their mouths came together.

Jesus, what a kiss, Ritsu thought, her heart fluttering. It was way more intimate than the last time they kissed. The drummer could feel all of Mio's parts with her own. Her face, her arms, her breasts. The wind blew full-force, mixing Ritsu's brown hair with Mio's raven hair. Even as their lips parted the bassist kept her body close to Ritsu's, preserving their intimacy. The drummer could feel the soft skin of Mio's lips grazing the sensitive skin of her own as she whispered, "I love you, Ricchan."

"And I love you, Mio, so much." Ritsu sighed happily as the bassist eskimo kissed her, running the tip of her nose along the bridge of the brunette's. Ritsu braced herself against Mio's shoulders and bounced up for another kiss, hoping to fully communicate how very deeply she loved the coal-haired girl through that gesture.

"Ritsu?"

At the sound of her mother's voice Ritsu flew back, shoving Mio off her. This was so not the drummer's day: carelessly revealing her relationship with Mio to two people who probably should not know. How was she going to lie and cover up this time?

Mrs. Tainaka stood in the open doorway, a myriad of shadows on her anxious face created by the lights inside the house and the porchlight.

Thinking quick, Ritsu babbled out an incoherent excuse. "Oh so that's what kissing a girl's like thanks for partaking in this experiment with me Mio see you tomorrow bye!" And she darted past her mother inside.

Mio stared blankly ahead of her, chest heaving with panic and arousal. She and Mrs. Tainaka's eyes met briefly. Then Mio frantically bowed, muttered, "Excuse me, Tainaka-san, and ran off into the new rain towards her house.

RECORDING

Chapter Sixteen

Heart of Gold

Aware though Sawako was that the Light Music Club members were practically tearing out their hair with anxiety, she herself couldn't wait for their performance at Hair that night. Mio and Azusa, fretting over tuning and polishing their respective instruments, snapped at the sensei. They had called her insensitive. Sawako had blithely shrugged it off. She couldn't help it. It was a good day. In Advanced Guitar class she just had them watch a Rolling Stones concert. In Intro to Keyboard she had to give a test, which was tedious, but she was pleased with the results: not a D or an F in the lot. She hadn't seen Tokudaiji today, and she was hoping he was out with a substitute filling in. She was happy. And the icing of this great day was her anticipation of tonight's concert. It was nice to have something to look forward to.

Presently she was on her way to homeroom. She had just grabbed the doorknob when Mugi rounded the farthest corner. The ojou's face was ashen and brooding, her dim eyes focused on the floor. Upon seeing Sawako Mugi's face unpinched slightly. She smiled, though the older woman could see her bushy eyebrows were furrowed.

Sawako returned Mugi's smile. "Hey, you," she greeted warmly.

"Hi." The keyboardist's voice was low, leaden with sadness.

The sensei put her hand upon Mugi's head, pushing her flaxen bangs out of her tense face. "What's eating you?"

Mugi leaned her head into Sawako's stroking hand, closing her eyes. She looked completely drained: her stately bearing was reduced to a slouch and her pale face had a grayish tint. "I can't perform in the concert tonight," she proclaimed.

Sawako's hand hesitated, then continued pulling through Mugi's jaune tresses; it seemed to soothe her. Well, now what? What are we going to do without Mugi-chan? That question clamored through Sawako's brain, and she shook her head in annoyance. She'd have to answer that question from every Light Music Club member when they heard about this.

The teacher didn't bother asking why. She knew it was because of the Tokyo Prefecture Solo and Ensemble Contest.

"I'm sorry, Sawa-chan," Mugi said miserably, looking up at her girlfriend. Tears glittered in her eyes, gluing her lower eyelashes into yellow triangles. "I don't know what I could've done…"

"Shh, it's okay." Sawako wished they weren't in school, else she would have taken the keyboardist in her arms and held her until she calmed down. But this was Sakura High School, where both of them were expected to act professional (were any other girl crying, Sawako would have had her remanded to a guidance counselor). Keeping an innocent distance from Mugi, the sensei used her other hand to brush away her tears. "We'll figure something out, I promise."

"I hope so. I'll give it more thought, but I have to make up my mind before the end of school. After band practice I'm taking a train to Tokyo." She withdrew a bit from Sawako. From her pocket she produced a small, pink pass. "I won't be in homeroom today. I have to go to the computer lab and print out something for my Economics class."

"Alright," Sawako nodded. "I won't mark you absent."

The sensei watched her go, noting how Mugi's shoulders returned to their pensively slumped state. The ojou rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. What should I do? Sawako wondered. I promised her I'd figure it out. Never in her life had Sawako broken a promise, and she didn't intend to ever do so. After all, keeping a promise was what honor and idealism were all about — two hallmarks of the teacher's personality.

"I see you've failed to heed my warning, Sawako-san."

Then there were other teachers who didn't have such fiber.

Sawako turned to face him coldly. "What sort of a person would I be if I subjected myself to everyone's 'warnings,' Tokudaiji-san?"

"You would be a fool," the psych teacher responded smoothly, "because my warning could have saved you your job and your reputation. Now…" He sighed. He was one of those men who kept a stiff upper lip, baring only his bottom row of teeth when he spoke. "Now I guess it's too late."

Sawako faltered momentarily, terrified that Tokudaiji had handed her over to Mrs. Murakami. Once the rational half of her brain was restored, she realized the headmistress would have brought it up when they passed each other five minutes ago. Bouncing back, she retorted, "I know you, Tokudaiji-san. I know everything about you." The second sentence was a gross exaggeration, but she knew he wouldn't call her bluff. "You've got no favor with Noriko-sensei. You're just mad because you've been working here for ten more years than I have without any promotion or advancement. In fact, wasn't it last year," she mused with restrained laughter in her voice, "Noriko-sensei posted you to carry boxes of Pepsi products to stock the vending machines?" Sawako shook her head, enjoying the psych teacher's stung expression more than she should have. "Ten years my senior, and all you've gotten is grunt work. Sour grapes, Tokudaiji-san…Or would you prefer Nagi-wakkadono?"

Tokudaiji's expression turned from one of outrage to fear. That his eyes were blue made them seem wider behind his glasses. His thin arms hung loosely at his sides. Ha, Sawako thought, knowing she had won.

"You know very well," he gasped. Then, catching himself, he glared and hissed, "You do not call me by my first name, and you do not call me 'wakkadono.' Understood?"

Sawako stared at him, intensely curious about why he suddenly seemed scared. He really did do something. I wonder what? Feigning coolness, she readjusted her sleeve on her left arm. "I hardly think you're in any position to dicate terms on me, Nagi-wakkadono, especially after I found out what you did." Tokudaiji Nagi blanched and his orthogonal jaw fell. Resisting temptation to laugh, Sawako breezed past him. "Now, if you'll excuse me, wakkadono, I—"

"Matte!" Tokudaiji choked, catching her by her sleeve. Her face an impassive, stony mask, Sawako turned to face him once more.

Tokudaiji's tongue dashed out of his mouth, wetting his chapped lips. "I thought," he whispered, "that you of all people would be able to relate to what I did."

He fraternized with a student? Sawako's eyes widened. Then, once again, rationality took over. What he did was probably worse than what I did with Mugi-chan. Fraternized, indeed. More like exploited. Drudging up something she had said to an ex-boyfriend, she muttered, "No one can relate to the abhorrent thing you did, Nagi-wakkadono."

His hand dropped from her arm and his chin fell to his chest in defeat. Shaking with a newfound power, Sawako headed into homeroom. I've got your number, Tokudaiji-san.

After school the band ran through their setlist. Mio shuffled a bit, contemplating if they should run through it one more time for safe measure. Mugi stared at her keyboard, mentally running through Badinerie.

"Sawako-sensei," Azusa spoke apprehensively, "are you sure this all sounds good for tonight?"

"Just one thing…" The sponsor set down her tea cup and strode over to the band. The kouhai's face drew tight a little at the idea of making a last-minute improvement. "About 'Jaja Uma Way to Go'…It sounds good," Sawako appraised, giving Azusa a double thumbs-up, "but you're a little stiff. Loosen up."

"Loosen up how?"

Sawako huffed. "I don't know…but, you know, concerts are every bit about the visual as they are about the audial. If all the audience wanted was audial glory, they'd listen to your album rather than go see you live."

"Like we have an album," Ritsu muttered.

Yui smiled. "We don't have an album yet."

"Yet?"

Sawako pantomimed playing a guitar: standing with her feet planted a foot and a half apart, her right hand by her hips where the headstock would be. "Look like you love it, you know? Make love to it!"

A virtual shadow fell over Azusa's eyes. "I love my guitar, but I don't love it that much."

"Put your hips into it. Make the girls in the audience wish they were your guitar. Look less like I'm-standing-up-here-playing-my-guitar and more like…like…" The sensei's mind scrambled for a comparison that would fit Azusa. She recalled the Rolling Stones concert video she had shown her guitar class. Her face lit up. "Look like Keith Richards!"

The pigtailed girl nearly dropped her pick in shock. "You want me to play my guitar like Keith Richards?"

"No, I want you to snort your dad's ashes like him," Sawako said sarcastically.

Azusa was agog with both excitement and trepidation. She loved the Rolling Stones with a hardcore passion. She had seen them live once, and she knew exactly what Sawako was talking about in terms of Richards's crazy antics. From his chicken walk to his hopping about the stage, Azusa wasn't sure she could emulate his style. She didn't see herself as worthy of that style.

Sawako left Yui, Mio, Ritsu, and Azusa briefly to accompany Mugi to the train station. The ojou would have loved to stay a bit longer and help them load their instruments and gear on the bus Asumi so kindly ordered for them. But she was cutting it close. She had to get to Tokyo in time to change, do her hair, and get on that stage and play some Bach. The train hadn't yet arrived when the two of them got there, holding hands.

"I think I have something figured out," Mugi sighed. Her jaw, neck, and shoulders felt tense. No matter how she tried, she couldn't relax. "What time's the concert?"

"Afterschool Tea Time has to be on stage at 21:00," Sawako responded.

The keyboardist gnawed her lip, staring at the endless expanse of tracks. "Hmm...Well, I may be a little late...The Tokyo Prefecture Solo and Ensemble Contest manages their performances in foursomes. I'm the fourth one in a group, so I'll immediately get my medal. Then I could have one of Father's drivers take me to Hair."

"You should take the train," her girlfriend advised. "You don't know what traffic will be like on the highway."

"The train's faster, too," Mugi realized. She turned her beryl eyes to the ground and tapped her cheek. "I just might make it on time, but I don't know..." She had considered skipping the solo contest. She really had. But it would be such a terrible thing to do to her father. Not only would she be betraying Holt, but she would be leaving him worrying and wondering where she was. Imagining Holt in such a predicament nearly brought Mugi to tears. For ever since Veronique flew the coop, Tsumugi was the only precious thing Holt had left in his life.

"I doubt I'm going to do very well," the keyboardist confessed. "I'll be lucky to take silver."

"You'll do great, I know it," Sawako said enthusiastically and sincerely. "I know you've practiced long and hard for this night, and that's why I think you should definitely go."

Mugi looked up at Sawako tenderly. The sun, beginning its descent into the western horizon, cast its golden rays, dying Mugi's eyes chartreuse and making each curly aurum strand positively glow.

Sawako dropped her chin and gulped. Her honey-colored eyes flicked toward her girlfriend. Ever wary of her emotions, the sensei could never bring herself to express love so poetically. Yet she said, "Everything about you is gold, Mugi-chan. Your grades, your talents...but most of all your heart. You're a gold medal girlfriend, Mugi-chan," she said, facing the ojou confidently. "Hell, you could take platinum in that category...In my heart you do, anyway." She looked away, feeling her warm face throb. That Mugi wasn't saying anything frightened her. She had taken a chance, told her girlfriend how she really felt, and now she was going to be punished.

Mugi swore she was dreaming at first. She couldn't find words to express the jubilation exploding from her heart's constraints, like a flood breaking through a levy. Rather, with a gushing cry, she threw her arms around Sawako's neck and pressed herself against her. "Sawa-chan, you're so sweet," she cooed, nuzzling the sensei's ear. "I never knew you felt that way about me..."

Sawako gagged; Mugi's tenacious crab-like hold had closed off her windpipe. "Not that I'm not getting a warm fuzzy," she gasped, "but I can't breathe..."

"Gomenasai." Tsumugi loosened her hold a bit, and Sawako gasped for air. She ran her hands through her girlfriend's flavicomous hair, staring at the sunset, only seeing flashbacks of Mugi lutzing at the ice rink...Mugi in the forest, the silvery starlight capturing the sorrow in her opalescent eyes as she relived the agony of her parents' divorce.

"Hey." Sawako pulled back and dug through her pocket. "I want you to have something for tonight." She found what she was looking for and pressed it into Mugi's hand. "It'll give you inner strength."

Her eyebrows raised curiously, Mugi opened her hand to see what Sawako had given her. Her eyes unhooded — widened, actually — and she drew in a sharp breath. There it was, a concrete memory of the night they became a couple: the glittering blue hairtie.

"It'll make you look heart-breakingly beautiful, too," the older woman added.

"Thank you so much." Mugi doubted it would make her look as beautiful as Sawako said it would, but she was sure it would give her inner strength.

The ojou giggled. She flashed on that scene in Spirited Away, when Yubaba's sister wove the protective, magical hairtie for Chihiro.

There was a rhythmic rumble from afar. The train was coming.

"Knock 'em dead, kiddo," Sawako grinned, winking. "Sorry I couldn't be there."

"It's okay," Mugi insisted, pocketing the elastic. "You're needed in Yokohama." With a hiss, the train stopped and its doors opened. Perching slightly on tip-toe, Mugi kissed Sawako warmly, cupping her face, before disappearing on the train to Tokyo.

Her head still spinning from the kiss, the teacher hurried back to Sakura High School, hoping for the best for Mugi in several ways.

RECORDING

Chapter Seventeen

On the Bus to Yokohama

"Where ya been?" Ritsu demanded as soon as Sawako walked into Music Room 3. "We're all packed up and ready to go!" She craned her neck, peering out the doorway. "Where's Mugi-chan?"

"I'll explain on the bus." Sawako looked about Music Room 3. Everything they needed to take with them to Yokohama was neatly stacked in the center of the room. Ritsu's dissembled drumset stood in the middle of the pile. Surrounding it were the amps, Gitah, Mugi's Triton, Mio's Precision, and Azusa's Mustang, all in their gig bags.

Sawako unzipped Mugi's gig bag and shook her head. "We're supposed to bring the Yamaha to this gig, not Korgy."

"Oh, yeah," Ritsu remembered. Then she grinned and rubbed her palms together. "I nearly forgot about that awesome thing Mugi-chan has to do with it."

Mio commented, "Methinks you're chomping more at the bit for this than she is."

Sawako stooped to pick up an amp. "Right. Drums and amps on the bus first. Then we'll take the other stuff."

Ritsu grabbed the bass drum in similar fashion. "You heard the boss, y'all! Let's roll!"

Strenuous though it was to hump an amp, the Light Music Club members met the task with whole-hearted enthusiasm. Azusa and Yui started out carrying their respective amps out to the bus. By the time the kouhai returned for her guitar she noticed Yui still stumbling along the hallway, her back stiffly bent at an awkward angle, her hands clutching the handle. The senpai winced at the sting that burned betwixt her shoulder blades.

Shaking her head good-naturedly, Azusa relieved Yui of the hefty amp. Sighing, the senpai stood up straight, feeling the pain cool off. Her spine crackled, which felt both painful and wonderful at the same time. Straining from the weight of the amp, Azusa ordered, "Crouch."

Yui gave her a bemused look before complying. Suddenly she could feel some of the amp's weight pressing into her open hands.

"I'm going to let go of the amp," the kouhai grunted, "and you're going to lift it with your legs. Capisce?"

"What does 'capisce' mean — gyuhh!" Yui cried out as Azusa started to drop the amp. "Okay! I'll carry it right!"

Once the gear was loaded the five of them boarded the bus — Yui, Azusa, and Mio with their gig bags, and Sawako with Mugi's — which promptly left for Yokohama. It was a nice bus with plush seats — none of the hard, leather sort — that faced each other. Ritsu and Mio sat next to each other whilst Sawako, Yui, and Azusa occupied the seats facing them. The drummer rattled her sticks against the armrest, playing the rhythm of 'Girly Storm Shissou Stick' (which, sadly, she couldn't perform live), and watched the unremarkable road pass by. There was an obvious, though not necessarily bad, issue here that needed confronting.

"Sawa-chan-sensei. Why is your cousin putting us up in such high style?"

Sawako looked up from the window, an eyebrow raised. "Eh? Well, we have to get our equipment to Hair somehow. And none o' y'all drive, and I don't have me a car."

"That's logical, but…" Ritsu waved a stick, gesturing round the bus. "How can Asumi-san afford this? Not to be presumptuous, but she didn't strike me as very…well-off."

"That's something to chew on…" Sawako knew what Ritsu was talking about. Asumi was hardly wealthy. On the contrary, the bartender was dirt poor. She was a woman who stole rolls of toilet paper from public restrooms to save money (the paper doubled as coffee filters). I'll have to ask her about that, thought Sawako, leaning an arm on the armrest.

Azusa caught Yui giggling into her hand and inquired, "What's so funny?"

"Your cheeks are vibrating, Azu-nyan," the elder guitarist laughed.

On her own accord, the kouhai glanced at her reflection in the window. Dim it was, but she noticed how her face rippled in tandem with the bus engine's humming. She clapped her small hands to her cheeks and snapped, "Yours do, too, senpai!"

Still giggling, Yui touched her face. "Yeah, they do!"

"So do mine," affirmed Ritsu.

They looked at Mio. The flesh on the bassist's angular face neither shimmered nor rippled.

"You guys suck!" she snapped. "So my cheeks don't freakin' vibrate!"

The conversation lulled a bit as they got on the highway. Not liking the silence, Ritsu initiated a couple hand-clapping games. They started with Big Booty, which had to stop after Yui and the drummer kept passing the big booty back and forth to each other. Then they played Concentration; that fell apart after everyone questioned the legitimacy of certain words.

"Garnet doesn't count," Mio insisted. They were naming colors. "It's a gemstone."

"It's a color," said Yui, who had named garnet in the first place. She gestured at Azusa. "Like Azu-nyan's eyes. They're garnet."

"They're not garnet. They're copper."

There ensued an argument about what color Azusa's eyes were, and Concentration was forgotten. Despite Azusa pointing out that her birth certificate legally stated that her eyes were "red," the dispute carried on. Sawako, who was trying to sleep, rather loudly and forcefully closed the debate. Its outcome remains uncertain.

"So why isn't Mugi-chan here?" Ritsu asked.

"She's going to be a little late," Sawako replied soberly. "She's performing in the Tokyo Prefecture Solo and Ensemble Contest, and then she's coming to Yokohama."

Mio sat up. "Will she come on time for us to go on stage?"

The teacher shrugged. "At most, she might come on stage a few minutes late." She held out her hands plaintively. "If that happens, you must keep the audience entertained until she gets there. Whatever it takes. Banter, panty shots, strip-teases, naked pillow fights, whatever." She paused reflectively, ignorant of the band's horrified expressions. There was something else I had to tell them…? "Oh yeah. And you won't be performing with New Order."

"What?" Azusa exclaimed. The other band members demanded to know more. Fuming with anger and disappointment, the kouhai inquired, "Sawako-sensei, was this all a ruse to get us to perform for your lecherous cousin?"

"No. I assure you, it's not. New Order as we know it is done for. Their lead singer is in a coma."

"So who are we opening for?" asked Ritsu.

"A fairly local band on the rise," Sawako answered. She paused, distracted by the bridge the bus was crossing (she would never admit it, but crossing bridges made her nervous). Once the bus was back on the road, she continued explaining. "Their guitarist is from Kyoto, their drummer from Saitima, their bassist from Osaka…Their keyboardist is actually from where y'all live."

An intriguing fun-fact, but Mio sincerely doubted she would know the keyboardist. Their hometown wasn't exactly a bustling city, but it wasn't a close-knit community either.

"They call themselves Terror Firma."

"Sounds like a heavy metal band," Ritsu said uncertainly.

"It does…" Sawako's brown eyes got a faraway, dreamy stare, exuding an aura of I Love That Band Name. Once she snapped out of it, she added, "Though I'm actually not sure what kind of music they play."

The bus rumbled down the highway at full speed, as if pulled by the red thread of destiny, taking the band to their fated performance.

RECORDING

Chapter Eighteen

Chibi!

It was 19:30, and Kobucha Street was not just alive, but roaring with Yoko Uni's students kicking off a great weekend. Bar crawling, party hopping, movies, concerts, dates. One would never long for excitement on Kobucha Street. For some three countrymice, it was too much excitement.

Nodoka coughed into her sleeve, overwhelmed by the smudgy smoke that tarred across the darkening sky. Ui cried out in alarm as two rowdy frat guys, both with long greasy hair, both with smudged glasses, shoved past screaming, "Alpha Segma Segma!" Jun quietly raised an eyebrow at the sketchy bookstore with its sundry erotic novels displayed in the window.

"Let's hope the fine people at Hair don't smoke as much," Nodoka gagged. "Where is Hair, anyway?"

"Oneechan said it was on Kobucha…"

"She did a not-so-great job giving directions. But I guess that's just like her."

Jun sighed, not really minding the situation. True, the smoke stung her throat (and it didn't smell like the sort that came out of tobacco cigarettes). Yes, the frat guys were creeps and the sorority girls were bitches. But wandering about the immense street didn't bother the pigtailed girl in the least. It reminded her of when she and Ui roamed the avenues of Harajuku, looking for a place to shop, but it turned out to be a heart-to-heart. The streets of Harajuku were just as crowded as the streets of Yokohama, but it seemed like it was just the two of them. So the aimlessness was fine, just as long as they could stay on the streets together.

Jun looked up from the windows, right at the neon sign of Hair. Man, talk about luck. Smiling, she stopped Ui by hooking her hand about the crook of her arm.

"Thank heaven," Nodoka sighed.

"You found it, Jun-chan! Way to go!" Ui cheered.

Jun giggled, modestly waving off the praise. Just seeing the exuberant, relieved look on Ui's face was thanks enough. She seemed happier these days. Jun never heard her once complain about Yui and Azusa today. She may have moved on.

The backstage area in Hair was large, though not glamorous. It was lit by unflattering fluorescent ceiling lights and consisted of two old couches, a coffee table, and a stained rug. Some potted plants, surprisingly vibrant, accented the corners. There was a full-length mirror propped up against the undecorated walls, plus a bathroom.

"Make yourselves at home," Asumi said brightly. Then she added with a wink, "Just don't make yourselves too at home. Would you like something to drink?"

"NO!" The reply was loud, instantaneous, and simultaneous from the four band members. Sawako requested a White Russian. Asumi departed to relay the order to Setsuna, leaving her cousin to silently pray that the samurai didn't put too much Kahlua in it.

Azusa wrinkled her nose as she lightly, daintily seated herself on a couch armrest. "Who would want to make themselves 'too at home' here?"

"Hey." Sawako wagged a finger at the kouhai. "I spent many a night here right after I graduated college."

Ritsu snickered. "Would it have to do with your lack of a boyfriend?"

Sawako glowered at the drummer, wishing she had Mugi here to back her up, never mind that what Ritsu said was true. It more had to do with a very recent lack of a boyfriend. Right after a breakup she would go to Hair, drink away the pain, and get really loud. She would scream, cry, curse, and beg some higher power, and pound the coffee table. Eventually Asumi would drag herself down from her apartment above the bar to yell at Sawako to shut up. She was twice as crabby if she was having a girl over.

A frightened shriek sounding from behind the couch yanked Sawako from her reflective state. The scream startled Azusa so badly she visibly jumped on the armrest. Ritsu, full of concern, dashed to the back of the couch, where she found the horribly shaken Mio. Despite the blood screeching through her veins at light speed, the bassist was as white as a ghost. Her right hand gingerly grasped a steely dan.

"I think…" Waterfall tears flooded from her saucer eyes, and her voice was an octave higher from terror. "I think I found out…how people make themselves too at home here…"

"Oh, for goodness's sake." Tutting, Sawako took it from Mio and threw it away. "If you're scared of a harmless little dildo, you are not ready to be a lesbian."

Ritsu crouched behind Mio and brought her arms around her girlfriend. The bassist was shaking so violently her teeth clicked. The drummer nuzzled her cheek and murmured, "It's okay, Mio. I'm here. It's all over now." Ritsu was relieved to feel Mio's shoulders relaxing, see the color ebbing back into her face.

Yui blinked her eyes wide in fascination. She knelt before the coffee table, her arms rested upon its top. Right in front of her was a tall glass jar full of red- and blue-colored candy drops. They reminded her of when she was little, when she and Ui got bagfuls of Warhead candies in their Christmas stockings. When exactly did they stop making those? Or do they still make them? she wondered dimly. Then she thought, I bet these are delicious! She unscrewed the lid and selected a blue drop.

"Say 'ah,' Azu-nyan," Yui sang, hovering the drop a mere inch from the kouhai's mouth.

Azusa pursed her lips as she considered the candy. Then, parting them tentatively and sliding out her tongue, she said, "Ahh," and let her girlfriend place the azure drop upon it.

The drop sent a jolt of flavor through Azusa's mouth, making her jaw tingle. It was a sweet sapor which she couldn't otherwise describe — not at all unlike the common 'mystery flavor' found in various candies. It was the briefest sensation before the drop melted away. Then…it happened.

Yui heard a soft POM! and when she looked at Azusa she saw a little girl of maybe five years standing there with the Sakura uniform draped upon her tiny body. This five-year-old had a pair of furry cat ears jutting from under her black hair, which was tied into medium-length pigtails. She blinked her slanted mahogany eyes in confusion and flicked her tail — black-furred with a white tip — thoughtfully.

"Where's Azu-nyan?" Yui asked.

"Right here." The little girl flinched in surprise at her voice. It was high-pitched, nasally: a five-year-old's voice. She lifted her hand, finding out she had to hitch up the super-long blazer sleeve to see it. It was pudgy. Then it dawned on her. Azusa squeaked, "What the…? I'm little!"

Yui gasped. It was Azusa. The pigtails, the eyes, most of all the outraged expression. Just eleven years younger. The senpai's eyes swam and she smiled hugely. Wondering how anybody could resist hugging Azusa, Yui scooped her up.

"Azu-nyan! Just when I thought you couldn't get any cuter!"

Chibi Azusa squeezed her eyes shut as the (now much) older girl pressed her face against the kouhai's. Azusa flattened her cat-ears against her head and her tail whipped about furiously. Flailing her hands, she protested, "Arahh! Put me down!"

"Ohh!" Yui cooed. "You're too cute, Azu-nyan! I wish you could look like this all the time!"

Ritsu sweat-dropped. "You realize that means you would be dating a little kid…"

Mio narrowed her eyes. "That face was so not made for cuddling a five-year-old…" But she eyed li'l Azusa curiously, wondering out loud, "How did Azusa spontaneously turn into a child anyway?"

"I'm not sure," the drummer muttered, rubbing her chin. The two of them watched, lost in thought, as Azusa struggled to break free of Yui's grasp. She tried thrashing and kicking, though to no avail. Eventually the kouhai had to resort to a maneuver she used as a little kid — particularly at the dentist. She bit Yui. Crying out in shock, the senpai released her. "I don't like this place," Ritsu murmured. "It's got way too much of the supernatural going on." She and Mio nearly jumped out of their skins when they heard another POM! They turned slowly to find…

Sawako's clothes in a sunken pile on the wood floor. From under them emerged who they quickly realized was the seven-year-old version of their teacher. Sawako blinked and squinted her round, brown eyes — for at the age of seven her glasses prescription was vastly different. She piped up in a surprising pipsqueak voice, "What the hell? I ate one of those drops, and now everything suddenly looks bigger!"

Ritsu giggled at the sound of a little kid using profanity and at Sawako herself. "Were your ears really that big when you were little?"

"They're not big!" Sawako squawked, bringing her hair about her ears. "My head was just smaller back then!"

"Your hair totally screams 80s! What year were you born?"

Mio considered the open candy jar, murmuring, "So these drops make you younger…"

The door scraped open then to admit Sakurazaki Setsuna bearing Sawako's drink. Behind the samurai trailed Yamanaka Asumi pulling a rack of clothes specially made by the bartender for the concert. Asumi bumped into Setsuna when she stopped dead in her tracks. Her dark, slanted eyes took in everything at the tiniest glance — the open jar and the child versions of Azusa and Sawako — and she immediately knew what happened.

"Ohh, this is all my fault!" Setsuna exclaimed.

"Chill out. It's not your fault." Asumi placed a hand on the samurai's shuddering shoulder. The gesture seemed reassuring, but it was actually more restraining: Asumi didn't want Setsuna dropping the White Russian. "I was the one who left the jar out."

"But I was the one who should've thought to put it away!" Setsuna fussed. How could she explain this one without revealing the existence of magic?

"Hey." Setsuna suddenly found herself confronted by chibi Sawako, circa 1990. The little teacher pointed at the White Russian. "Hand it over."

The samurai blanched.

Sawako made beckoning motions and snapped her fingers. "C'mon, c'mon. I've been seven years old for three minutes now, and it's killing me. I need a big ol' drink."

Setsuna hesitated. It just seemed wrong to give a little kid a drink. It went against the samurai's fiber. Her jet eyes flicked at the open jar which Mio and Ritsu were deliberating. Having figured out that blue drops made a person younger, the bassist was deducing that red drops made one older. Setsuna smiled. There's the solution, though it's a little touch-and-go… "Take a red drop," she ordered Sawako.

The teacher snorted. "Riiight. I'm just dying to take another one of those."

"It'll make you older."

"Je refuse."

Asumi groaned in annoyance and turned her hazel eyes to the ceiling. Before confronting her cousin, she pushed her clothing collection to a corner near the bathroom. Mio winced at the risqué bikini on one hanger, hoping to every Kami that it wasn't for her.

"Sawa-neesan." The bartender pulled out a fighting move her cousin made on her when they were little: she grasped Sawako's little head with her hand, holding her in place. Asumi's eyes were suddenly frightening. "Take the red drop, or I'll clean your clock!"

The sensei vainly kicked and flailed. She was used to being older than everybody, getting power and respect for her age. Now the reverse in roles left her terror-stricken. If Setsuna was right, if the red candy would make her older and get back that respect, then she would do it.

In the background Setsuna watched the spat with saucer eyes, clutching the glass with both hands. "Asumi-san, isn't that a bit rough for a child…?"

Mugi was having some backstage stress of her own. No sooner had she set foot in the lobby of Katsuhiko Theatre than she was met with chaos in the form of her father.

"Tsumugi! Where were you?" he demanded the instant she walked in. "You had me worried!"

The blonde girl didn't even have time to check her watch to see how late she had run. Holt was already pushing her toward the sign-in desk. She could assume by previous experiences that she had run a mere minute late. Well, time was money, and she knew how Holt felt about money.

Her father jumped about anxiously whilst Mugi signed her name. It surprised her how much energy he could have at the age of sixty-two.

"Please hurry up," he wheedled with a pitiful whine in his tenor voice. The look on his face was akin to hers when she yelled at the butler over the phone — was it Mikhel? or maybe Stuart? — for setting the yacht out at the villa after she had specifically told him not to. She grimaced. Golly, did that butler find me as annoying as I'm finding Father right now?

As soon as she completed the 'buki' character in her last name, Holt seized her by her sleeve and towed her over a great distance to the backstage area. It was nowhere near as homely and casual as Hair's backstage, but Tsumugi couldn't know this of course. The second competitor in the foursome, a girl named Kitazawa Kimiko, was on stage, playing a ragtime piano tune Mugi recognized as The Entertainer. Presently everybody was fussing over the third competitor, a small, kittenish boy named Miyao Katsuichi. Between hearing Kimiko's amateur rendition of The Entertainer and seeing Katuichi's vacillating, anemic face, Mugi couldn't help but feel overconfident. Still, it was polite to greet her competition and wish him luck.

"Hello," she said brightly. "I'm Kotobuki Tsumugi."

His full lips thinned as he smiled. "I know. You're pretty famous. Everybody's looking forward to your performance." There were innumerable amounts of solo contests across Japan, but only those from the most well-established families could come to Tokyo. Performers and competitors bore names such as Kotobuki, Tokudaiji, Katayanagi, Yamoto, Yukihiro, Hanazono, Rokujou, Himemiya, to name but a few. "I'm Katsuichi. Miyao Katsuichi."

"Nice to meet you," Mugi smiled.

Katsuichi pushed back some brune licks of hair that had fallen into his teal eyes. "So, what piece are you doing?"

"Badinerie."

"Mm. Nice choice."

Right. Nice choice for Father. "What are you doing, Katsu-kun?"

"L'Arlesienne Suite."

"The entire thing?" Mugi yelped. Katsuichi seemed to find the ojou's exuberance a bit off-putting, and she backed off with an apology. Then he responded, "Just the prelude."

Which is level one beginner's music. Mugi opened her mouth to wish Katsuichi luck when she was seized from behind by the collar. Holt dragged her away, whispering urgently, "You've no time to flirt and gossip! You have to get ready!"

The blonde girl giggled. That was hardly flirtation. It reminded her of the time she visited Veronique last year and her mother had said, "Your father doesn't know what love is." While Mugi didn't disagree with her mother, she wanted to point out that if Holt didn't know what love was , then Veronique certainly didn't either. Maybe nobody knew what love was.

Holt stopped before the longest rack of clothes Mugi had ever seen. The old man madly scrolled through the outfits, explaining in a rushed mutter, "I sent Wilhem-san out to buy two hundred outfits for this occasion. One of them has to be right for you!"

Turning her head back and forth, the ojou took in the largest wardrobe ever with saucer eyes. Two hundred! Isn't that a bit much…?

"Try this on!" Holt thrust something at her and pushed her toward the dressing room. Once she was locked away in the privacy of the room, Mugi got a chance to see what her father had chosen: a periwinkle blouse and a knee-length black skirt. It wasn't the sort of thing the keyboardist would ever wear, but that wasn't of importance. It was all ultimately Holt's decision. He had entered her into the solo contest. He had chosen the music. And he would choose her attire. Mugi felt a depressing sense of subservience. Regardless, she shed her uniform and put on the outfit. In the full-length mirror Tsumugi didn't see herself but a matronly-looking blonde girl who stared uncertainly at her. Bending down, she retrieved it from her blazer pocket. The hairtie.

Mugi smiled at her reflection, with her ponytail held up by the sparkling hairtie. The one the ojou removed from her hair just before Sawako kissed her. That kiss and every kiss they shared after that night brought Mugi more happiness than she ever thought possible. She placed her hands upon her blushing face and sighed, "Sawa-chan…" Just saying her name brought the keyboardist happiness. So Holt could pick the contest, the music, and the outfit. But Mugi had to wear the hairtie. She wouldn't budge on that.

Holt wrinkled his delicate nose upon seeing his daughter, and Mugi immediately knew this outfit hadn't made the cut. Her father grimaced, "Ugh, no…Bible seller, much? Especially the ponytail. Hair down, I think."

Struggling to keep her face resolute, Mugi firmly uttered one word: "No."

Holt blinked, and his blue eyes unhooded. There was a word he was unused to hearing. "No?" he echoed, as though it was a new, foreign word he was trying out. "No?"

"No," Mugi repeated.

For a moment Holt appeared ready to reprimand her, and the blonde girl braced herself. Then he sighed, shook his head, and returned to rummaging through the wardrobe, muttering something about girls and their hair.

The next piece he chose was a knee-length silky turquoise dress. That one made too much noise when Mugi walked. Next was a sapphiric dress with an open back and a loose fit around the legs. Too blue! Then came an out-of-season yellow sun dress that draped over Mugi's frame. That one "looked better on the hanger." Then there was a white dress that wrapped around the neck, came in layers to the knees, and had a loud triangle-and-square pattern. That one…

"You have to admit, ojousama, that Holt-dono was right this time," said Wilhem. "You do look like Judy Jetson."

The piece that earned Mr. Kotobuki's hard-won approval was a little black dress. It fit Tsumugi's form snugly, though not in a gross, revealing way. It was open back and came down to her knees. And Mugi liked it, too. It was simple but magnificent.

"Now about your hair," Holt murmured, and the blonde girl sighed heavily. "I know you're insistent on leaving it up, but I think this…" He played a bit with her ponytail, combing his long fingers through her aurum rivulets. "…should be a bun."

Without saying anything, Tsumugi looked at her father over her shoulder. She looked drained. Frown lines had formed from her nose to the corners of her mouth. Her azure eyes were pleading.

"A bun would be much more elegant," he added.

"Will I get to wear this elastic?" she implored.

"Of course," he granted, confused.

With some help from Denis, a butler, Mugi transformed her ponytail into a classy bun. She had to agree, this looked significantly better. How uncanny it was that she and Holt had the same taste in fashion. All she thought she had gotten from him was a pair of hirsute eyebrows.

"Excellent timing!" Holt appraised once she reemerged with her hair in a bun. "Miyao-san's nearly done, so that means you're next! Here, put these on!" He threw a pair of black patent leather heels at her, which she barely caught. Her heart thundered out of nervousness as she struggled to put them on. Goaded by her father, she stumbled on stage as fast as the heels would allow.

Her footsteps exploded in her ears as she made her way to the microphone, the score clutched in both hands. It was hot on stage, swelteringly so, and the smell of her competitors' sweat pervaded up to the smooth, arched ceiling. Already Mugi could feel herself contributing some of her own sudor. The only light in the theatre was projected toward the stage, making the audience invisible in the blackness. That was relaxing, sort of. Imagining that the indifferent silence was actually one of hushed anticipation, Mugi stepped up to the mic.

"Good evening." Someone once told her that her voice was well-suited to mics. "My name is Kotobuki Tsumugi, and I will be performing Badinerie by Johann Sebastian Bach."

The silence stretched out. Maybe they were eagerly awaiting the ojou's performance.

Walking from the mic to the grand piano felt like a long journey. Mugi swept her gaze along the ivory and ebony keys. Badinerie may have been challenging to learn, but she didn't love the piano any less. And she practiced long and hard for this night. That was what Sawako said.

So it was decided. Mugi would win gold with the power of love: her love for the piano and for Sawako. She set her fingers to the necessary keys, opened her heart, and played.

RECORDING

Chapter Nineteen

Show Time!

Meanwhile in Yokohama, some four girls were even less pleased by the wardrobe situation. After she and Setsuna rectified the candy predicament, Asumi unleashed her collection of clothes and costumes on Afterschool Tea Time. Each and every costume was designed with an explicit theme that suited each girl and the audience's taste. Azusa shivered, expecting something that would make her stomach turn. But the costume, fortunately, wasn't very revealing, and it compassed a motif the kouhai was only too familiar with: a sailor-suited cat girl.

"Reminds me a bit of my middle school uniform," she commented. The sailor shirt was blue with a white collar and a red tie. The skirt was knee-length and the same royal blue as the shirt. In addition to that she wore a black headband with cat ears and a fake black tail pinned to her skirt.

Yui's costume, like Azusa's, had a school theme as well: a gym uniform. It was a white baggy shirt with the elder guitarist's name on it, plus a pair of blue skin-tight bloomers.

"This shows off your great legs, aneesan," Asumi grinned, giving Yui a thumbs-up and a wink.

"K-kitsune…?" Ritsu stuttered, checking herself out in the mirror. Her costume was a tight white strapless top that worked up as much cleavage as the drummer had, a mini-skirt, a tiara with a red cross, and fox ears and a tail. "What about me screams nurse?"

"It suits you, Ritsu-neesan."

"It suits me like a hole in the head."

Mio nearly fainted when she was presented with her costume: the bikini. "I am not going to wear this!"

"Aww, c'mon, what's wrong with this?" Asumi queried, holding up the bikini. The bottom was more or less a spandex thong. "Inspiration for this look came from a hentai doujin!"

"Is that supposed to convince me to wear it?" With a huff, Mio turned away, arms crossed angrily.

"Alright, we'll put it to a vote," Asumi decided. "Who thinks Mio-neesan should wear the bikini?" Grinning in anticipation of a great show of hands, the bartender eagerly threw hers up. Her face fell when she saw absolutely no one raise her hand. Mio fumed in the corner whilst Ritsu tried to placate her. Azusa stared sympathetically at Mio. Yui tugged at her bloomers, trying to make them reach her thighs. Sawako stared at her empty glass. "Sawako, not even you think Mio-neesan should wear this?"

"It's too much," the sensei stated simply.

"Oh, it is not. I've designed much more salacious stuff and you know it."

"And I'm glad you spared Mio-chan and the rest of them from the leather pad-lock boob gag…"

Mio's blood chilled, and she moaned in terror, crouching on the floor. "I didn't hear that, I didn't hear that, I didn't hear that…"

"…but that still doesn't make the bikini too extreme," Sawako continued. "Ricchan, Yui-chan, Azusa-chan — all their costumes are merely suggestive. Mio-chan's costume is all about sex, and it borders on hoochy." The teacher took the bikini and waved it in front of her cousin's face. "I wouldn't wear this, and I doubt you would either, Asu-nee. No self-respecting woman would want to be caught dead in this."

Asumi's topaz eyes followed the bikini waving in front of her. Then she relaxed her stance and sighed, "I suppose you're right, Sawa-neesan. I've always respected your opinion."

Mio's shoulders rose as she breathed a huge sigh of relief. She looked at Sawako gratefully. Who would've thought that the sensei would prevent her the very same public humiliation she had thrown the bassist into in past situations?

"So what should she wear?" Asumi asked.

"My uniform," was Mio's immediate response.

The bartender opened her mouth, ready to nix this suggestion, but she reconsidered. She gave the Sakura uniform a thorough survey. It had the potential to be sexy. "Okay," she nodded. "You can wear your uniform. But," she added once Mio's face lit up, "we have to edit it a little." Stepping up to the raven-haired girl, Asumi made her edits.

"On second thought, I'd rather have a costume…" The bartender had removed Mio's blazer, loosened her tie, and unbuttoned her shirt. It was more revealing, in its own way, than the bikini (Mio didn't want the audience to see her bra).

"Mio-chan looks great in a maid uniform," Yui supplied.

Asumi brightened. "I have one upstairs in my apartment. Excuse me while I get it…" She bobbed a quick bow and turned to leave. However, at the door she was met by two girls. One of them was tall and carried a guitar gig bag. The other was short and carried a keyboard gig bag.

"Asumi-han," the tall girl spoke up. "About these costumes…They's a li'l…" Her long brown hair was tied into a ponytail. She wore round, thin-framed glasses over her sharp ocean-blue eyes. The outfit Asumi designed for her was a red and black bustier with white frills that barely contained her great breasts.

The small girl was garbed in a habit, like the sort nuns wear, but the end of it barely came down to mid-thigh. "This is a little short," the keyboardist murmured, her voice a quiet alto hush.

Ritsu giggled and nudged Mio. "Their guitarist says 'han,'" she whispered. "She is definitely from Kyoto."

But Mio hadn't noticed the guitarist. Her attention was focused on the keyboardist. Sawako had said this girl hailed from their hometown. Mio just wanted to see if she could recognize her. She couldn't see the color or style of her hair because of the habit, but Mio could see she had hooded green eyes.

Presently the keyboardist had her attention focused on the guitarist, whom she was obviously very close to, as one could tell by the way they looked at each other and held hands. The guitarist was suggesting something for their show.

The keyboardist nodded approvingly. "That's a gem of an idea, Hitomi. I'll write it down." She produced from a pocket in her habit a little notebook and a pencil. As she started to jot down Hitomi's idea Mio noticed that she was left-handed. Then the keyboardist winced and hissed, "My carpal tunnel's acting up…" With an exasperated sigh, she switched the pencil to her right hand and continued writing.

Mio's silver eyes snapped open wide. Suddenly the keyboardist's face was very familiar. She's ambidextrous!

Mugi hissed through her teeth as the straps of her shoes cut into her Achilles tendons. It was 20:50 and the ojou was forced to stagger through Yokohama by her heels and the pencil cut of her dress. Her left arm swung madly, towed by the weight of the gold medal she had won. Despite it being November, the temperature a biting thirty-three degrees, Mugi's exigence and her hot Kotobuki blood kept her warm.

She stumbled, nearly falling, as the heel of her right shoe missed the curb. Her ankle was sore. She would have blisters on both her Achilles tendons. Groaning with worry, Tsumugi removed her shoes and dashed barefoot up Kobucha Street.

Her mind flashed back half an hour ago, when the results of her foursome were announced. The first competitor took silver. Kitazawa Kimiko took bronze. Miyao Katsuichi took gold. So had she, Kotobuki Tsumugi. There was no such moment in which the ojou felt more pride, a greater sense of finality, than when the gold emblem appeared next to her photo on the large screen. I've never seen Father so excited. Her normally quiet father actually cheered; he even punched the air with victory, clapping his hands over his head, his blue eyes crinkled in a smile. He was so happy he didn't mind that Mugi had to immediately leave.

The keyboardist found it reassuring when she passed the Yoko Uni Bookstore on Kobucha and Ujicha. This was a landmark of hers, a sign that Hair was near. By checking her watch, though, she saw it was 21:00 on the dot. Mugi half-moaned, half-sighed, putting on an extra burst of speed, scraping her bare soles on the sidewalk. I've let my band down, she thought hopelessly. What kind of a keyboard player am I?

She saw the green, blue, and red neon sign of Hair, and Mugi's feet grew wings. She was Mercury, catalyzing and barreling toward the bar. At the entrance she was met by a bouncer who demanded to see some ID. Grateful that Yokohama bars admitted eighteen-year-olds, Mugi showed the bounce-girl her prefecture ID.

If Hair was slightly dark in the daytime, at night it was almost pitch-black. The only light came from the bar, where several girls were clustered and Setsuna and Konoka flurried about busily. There was an abundance of light from the stage. Mugi's heart sank when she saw her four best friends up there, trying their hardest to keep the fervent audience at bay. I should be up there.

"Excuse me!" she cried. She tried to make her way to the front, closer to the stage, but the immense crowd blocked her way. "Excuse me!" she tried again, but no one even heard her. I'm going to have to be a bit impertinent, Mugi thought desperately. As she shoved closer towards the front, she could hear Yui and Mio trying to entertain the audience in her absence. The blonde girl did not know how long they had been up there, but she could guess by the banter they made (Mio was commenting about how small the stage was).

"Mio-chan!" Mugi exclaimed, now at the stage's edge. "Mio-chaaan!"

The bassist's slate eyes happened upon her, and her face broke out into a wide grin of relief. "Oh," she sighed, "aren't you a sight for sore eyes." She and Yui crouched, hands extended, to help the keyboardist on stage. "Alright, guys, now we can get this show on the road!" The bassist's proclamation was met by a swell of applause. Mugi took note of how her bandmates were dressed. She couldn't help but feel a little out of place.

The keyboardist stared in confusion at the Yamaha MOTIF that greeted her on the stand. Then she chuckled and slapped her forehead. In the heat of stress over the solo contest, she had forgotten that her Korg would not be performing with her tonight. She dearly hoped the sounds of the MOTIF would be similar enough to the sounds on her Triton.

What's the opening song? she mouthed at Ritsu.

The drummer pounded the right side of her chest, waving her other hand to signify an explosion.

Heart Goes Boom! Mugi knew. She tentatively set the Yamaha to the "SYNTH-SFX" tone.

Mio's right hand moved expertly about the frets of her Precision as she played the bouncing bass line. And, just as it should happen, the other instruments came in with a blasting upbeat on the snare from Ritsu. The bassist could see girls dancing. She saw a smiling girl whisper something to her date, her eyes still on the stage. Mio was sure the girl was saying something along the lines of "They're good" or "I love them already." Her stage fright eased, making her relax her posture, the rollicking music just flowing whilst she sang, "Hana watashi to uma no hitori…"

Hair was the best-known lesbian bar, and its customers came from all walks of life. The prospect of seeing not one, but two bands of cute high school girls made quite the turn-out.

Towards the center-left of the crowd stood a medium-heighted girl with lilac-colored hair styled into pigtails and sharp blue eyes. Beside her, her date, a short girl with blue hair cascading down her back and hooded green eyes, craned her neck, struggling to see the band over the heads of the girls in front of her.

"Would you like to move closer?" the purple-haired girl, Kagami, offered.

The blunette, Konata, shook her head. "We don't have to do that." The crowd was feisty, and there were other solutions. She tried jumping up and down, but that only allowed her the briefest glances of the opening band, and it exhausted her.

"Darn it," Konata gasped. "This is worse than the time I made a reference to Haruhi Suzimiya!"

"You mean like a minute ago?" Kagami grinned. "Are you sure you don't want to go closer to the stage?"

"No. I got an idea!" With a PING! a lightbulb flashed over Konata's head. Without warning Kagami or begging her permission, the otaku clambered up the tsundere's back to sit upon her shoulders.

"Oh, yeah," Konata nodded, giving her signature cat-like grin. "I can totally see the band now."

"I can't," Kagami groaned, her head dipped so low that her chin touched her chest.

Konata hummed a bit as she surveyed the opening band. Her gaze fell upon Azusa, and her emeraldescent eyes lit up. "Check out that twin-tailed guitarist! Tsundere to the max!"

"How can you be sure?"

Simpering, the otaku dipped her head so her upside-down face filled Kagami's vision. "It's like I always say, Kagamin: 'All tsundere girls—'"

"'…must have pigtails,'" the lilac-haired girl finished with a smile. Her hands were clutching Konata's legs to keep her from falling. Now Kagami extended her right hand to bring her girlfriend's head in closer. Their lips met, upside-down, in a tender, warm kiss. Balancing herself, Konata kissed Kagami again, and again. The tsundere hummed amorously as the strain in her neck melted away with each passionate kiss. If Konata's not jumping on my shoulders and spouting otaku-ish blabber, then I suppose I wouldn't be dating her, would I? When she pulled back, Kagami smirked, "I got a motto of my own: 'All otaku girls must be good kissers.'"

Konata snickered and retorted, "'All tsundere girls must be amazing in bed.'"

The pigtailed girl croaked in alarm, a rosy blush suddenly blossoming in her face. She started so hard that she nearly dropped Konata. Keeping a tight grip on her legs, she growled, "I'm done," and the cerulean-haired girl was back to checking out the band.

"That bass player looks like Komachi Tsugumi from Ever17," she commented, "and I'm getting a serious Haruhi vibe from that drummer."

"I'm getting a serious backache…"

The azure-haired otaku slid off Kagami's back. Sighing with relief, the tsundere stood up straight, feeling all the little bones in her spine pop. The sensation was both painful and wonderful.

"I oughta get back to watching K-ON!," Konata speculated, rubbing her chin. "I left off on episode two. That pawn shop owner reminds me an awful lot of Kyon."

In the center front of the crowd stood a group of friends hailing from one of the largest middle school/ high school campuses in Japan: Astraea Hill. There was a fairly spacey girl who had her auburn locks gathered into a messy ponytail at the back of her head. At her side stood a taller girl with violet eyes and blue hair put up in a bun with an elegant white bow. These two attended Miator, the most prestigious school on Astraea Hill. With them came three friends from their rival school, Spica.

"I love this song — it's so cute!" the redhead, Nagisa, squealed. "I wonder what it's called?"

"I'm going to guess 'Fuwa Fuwa Time,'" Tsubomi, a pink-haired middle schooler from Spica, responded sarcastically. She was regretting wearing her trademark sweater to this show. It may have been cold outside, but in Hair with all the girls packed close together it was miserably warm.

Tamao, the blunette and Nagisa's date, leaned in close to the redhead. "Where did you tell Shizuma-sama we were going?"

Nagisa blinked. "Umm…The Kafka symposium?"

"Okay." Tamao breathed a sigh of relief.

Nagisa fidgeted a bit. "I'm not comfortable with lying to Shizuma-sama, Tamao-chan…"

"Well…" The poet linked her hand with the redhead's. "You said everything was drying up between you two, ne?" Nagisa's hesitant silence was like music to Tamao's ears. The two of them had been through their share of hardships, the most recent Étoile selection nearly shattering their friendship like glass. But fate had been dealing Tamao an awfully generous hand of late. All Nagisa-chan has to do is break up with Hanazono Hecate-san, and…

Tamao was just offering her aid in the redhead's breaking up with Shizuma when a girl with long black hair and clever brown eyes crashed through the throng of people, bearing drinks.

"Who wants a stout?" she yelled over the cacophony of music and shrieking girls.

Tsubomi looked at her in horror; even Tamao seemed a bit surprised. "Yaya-senpai!" the pinkette fumed. "Underage drinking is wrong!"

Tamao queried, "How in the world did you get those? Do you have a fake ID or something?"

Grinning, Yaya shook her head. Her swaying balance and flushed face suggested that this wasn't her first beer tonight. "That Asumi-san's awesome! She'll give you anything so long as you can pay for it!"

"Okay, that's just illegal," Tsubomi muttered, turning her vehement stare away from the senpai and towards the stage. "Why hasn't this place been shut down?"

Ignoring the kouhai's remarks, Yaya sidled up to Hikari and watched the band with her. Afterschool Tea Time just about seemed ready to bring home Light and Fluffy Time. Yaya commented, "Hikari, you'd look so much like that keyboardist if you'd stop plucking your eyebrows."

Hikari blinked her turquoise eyes, confused. "But, Yaya-chan, I don't pluck my eyebrows."

Tsubomi remarked — not necessarily harshly, but when she was addressing Yaya one could never be sure: "And you'd look like that bass player if you'd get a decent haircut, Yaya-senpai."

"That bass player you totally have a crush on?"

The pinkette's golden eyes widened in horror. "I don't have a crush on her!"

"Then why were you staring at her like that?" Yaya queried wisely, enjoying Tsubomi's tortured expression.

"Staring at her like what?"

The brunette shrugged, just to punish her. She couldn't help it. Her reputation for pruning younger girls' egos had been established long ago. "You know, staring…with that dewy, longing look in your eyes that speaks a desire for that bassist to—"

"Zip it, aho! Baka! Dummkopf!"

"Since when do you speak German…?"

Somewhere farther back danced two certain American girls. Having recently graduated from King High School in Los Angeles, Spencer Carlin and Ashley Davies had been treated to a vacation in Japan where the culture was interesting, the history enriching, and the yuri plentiful. The trip came courtesy of Paula, Spencer's mother: a sort of apology for not previously being supportive of their relationship.

"Isn't this amazing?" Ashley grinned. "It's strictly A-list!"

Spencer giggled, following her girlfriend's lead. Only Ashley would gauge what was A-list in Japan after staying there for only a day. Despite her being jet-lagged, Spencer the blonde with the heart of gold willingly accompanied Ashley the brunette with the ego of steel to Hair.

"So which of these girls would you sleep with?"

Spencer's brown eyes widened in shock before she retorted, "You."

Ashley laughed, and the sound thrilled the blonde Ohio belle as much as it did when they first met. "I mean in that band."

For the first time that night Spencer's eyes tore away from her girlfriend. She considered the band, enjoying her sovereign right as a lesbian to check out girls, assessing each girl's roll-in-the-hay potential.

"The drummer," she finally answered. Ashley pursed her lips in disagreement. Spencer added, "There's something about her that reminds me of you."

"She looks like she could tear up the streets downtown with awesomeness, yes."

"What about you?"

Ashley didn't hesitate. "The keyboardist." Winking a smoky eye, she seductively pulled Spencer closer. "I've always been fond of blondes…"

RECORDING

Chapter Twenty

Bravery

Jun swayed loosely, caught up in the crowd's excitement. The once unassuming, whimsical kouhai was now cheering and waving her fists with a fervor that closely rivaled that of the other girls in the audience. Like these other girls, Jun was lent audacity by alcohol (a gin and tonic Asumi had sold her with a wink and a nudge). Like the rest of the audience, her enthusiasm branched from her restless longing for a girl. The girl Jun wanted, however, was not up on stage.

Ui stood next to her, her soft features washed in a neon glow from the stage lights. She looked fascinatingly beautiful. The lights, in their finest trickery, had highlighted and accented the younger Hirasawa girl's face so elegantly that Jun was rendered absolutely stupefied. Another drink could perhaps solve this problem, but the pigtailed girl worried she'd make a fool of herself. It was bad enough that she had partaken in underage drinking, but with the situation she faced here and now she couldn't not drink.

Glad though she was that Ui was happy, no longer torn up over Yui and Azusa, Jun felt a little dissatisfied herself.

Carefully balancing herself, Jun leaned over and tapped Ui's shoulder. The feeling of soft fabric sweeping over even softer skin was heavenly. When Ui turned to face her, Jun yelled over the crowd, "I'm getting something to drink. Can I get you anything?"

Ui shook her head. "Don't you think you've had enough?" she asked, her gentle voice heavy with concern.

Smiling hugely, Jun let her hand linger on Ui's shoulder. "I'm just getting a Coke. No need to worry." Out of courtesy she offered to get Nodoka something (but the bespectacled girl wanted nought), and staggered back over to the bar.

"Oi, oi, don't you think you've had enough?" Asumi suggested when she saw Jun elbow herself on the bar.

"That seems to be the general consensus," the pigtailed girl chuckled. "I just want a Coke."

Jun dipped her head and stared at the glossy, swirling woodwork whilst the bartender filled a glass with Coca-Cola. All around her girls were clustered in pairs — laughing, chatting, and basically being in love with each other. Jun had never had the experience of being loved by someone. She had never had the experience of loving someone. It spooked her, these new feelings, the desire to just make somebody happy, the fact that love had suddenly become a priority over her own personal achievement.

"So, are you here with someone?" Asumi asked, setting the cold, perspiring glass before Jun — chatting up the customer, like any good bartender.

The kouhai shook her head.

"You're here with someone you want to be with." Asumi phrased that not as a question, but a statement; and there was something mighty knowing about the way she peered at Jun over her glasses.

No flies on this one, the pigtailed girl thought. She nodded solemnly, still holding a mouthful of Coke.

Her aurum eyes bright with interest, Asumi leaned forward on the bar, crossing her ankles casually. Jun gulped as the bartender's low-cut top fell forward a bit, exposing the lacy edges of her bra. "Tell me about her. What's her name? What's she like?"

Jun held another mouthful of soda, contemplating her answer. What was it about Ui that so drew the jazz bassist to her? The only clue Jun had, the only thing she could put in words, was the ethereal allure Ui had that compelled Jun to stay by her side. The kouhai swallowed, murmured, "Well…She's very, uh…"

"Jun-chan."

The pigtailed girl was just about to say alluring when she heard that sweet voice in her left ear, felt that genial touch on her shoulder. She smiled. "'Sup, Ui-chan," she grinned, turning towards her friend.

"I changed my mind — I want something to drink. Do you have iced tea?" she asked Asumi.

The bartender shook her head apologetically. "I stopped serving it two months ago when no one bought it. The shakes here are great, though."

Ui smiled. "Great," she echoed. "I'll take one."

"How would you like it? Thin-thick, medium-thick, or thick-thick?"

The ponytailed girl chewed the inside of her cheek as she considered her options. "Thick-thick," she decided.

"Comin' right up." Asumi departed to make Ui her shake.

Ui watched Afterschool Tea Time momentarily before she claimed the stool next to her inebriated friend. Jun seemed to be giving her no regard, her face turned towards her cold glass of cola, but she was actually watching the younger Hirasawa girl from the corner of her eye, observing her from an emotional distance. When it came to first love, one could never be too cautious.

"What's going on, Jun-chan?"

"Mm?" the pigtailed girl grunted, feigning ignorance.

"You seem distant." Ui's disconcerted face was a crystal clear sight amid the pot smoke. "Is something wrong?"

Jun opened her mouth to deny this, but decided it was useless. Lying and saying that nothing was wrong would make her seem more obvious. Beside her, the corners of Ui's mouth tightened — it reminded Jun of their trip to Tokyo; only this time Ui was making that face for her.

The kouhai bassist released her straw from her mouth and sighed. "I have something to tell you," said she, turning to face Ui, "and you're not going to like it."

Ui leaned forward, chin in palm. "Try me."

Jun's dark eyes swam. Her heart began thundering once she realized what she was throwing herself into. Her neurons were clogging her nerves in one big traffic jam. Her hesitation only proved detrimental as it allowed her doubts to catch up to her. There was a very good, very likely chance that Ui would not like Jun back. She had said that she loved Yui in every way, and that included some of the ways Jun loved Ui.

So I love her, the pigtailed girl thought vulnerably. A raw torrent of emotions bloomed in her chest, as though her heart had bursted. Her breath caught painfully in her throat. I really do love Ui-chan. If only she could say that out loud.

The intensity betwixt them was so thick that they both started when Asumi set the cup down on the bar.

"Thick-thick chocolate shake," she cheered in a sing-song voice.

"Thank you," Ui said faintly. Her eyes still on Jun, she accepted the shake.

Jun exhaled, wondering if all this had really just happened. If she really had almost confessed her love. Probably not. I could never be so bold. She turned back to her own drink, hoping to find solace in a caffeinated soft drink.

Ui stared in dismay at her straw; as hard as she was sucking, the shake crept up only a third of its length. Her cheeks prickled and her chest tightened as she sucked harder still.

"Too thick, aneesan?" Asumi asked drolly.

"I think I just broke a rib," Ui gasped. "Thanks, Jun-chan," she smiled when her friend passed her a spoon.

Asumi cocked her head, studying Ui. "Are you related to that neesan up there? With the Les Paul?"

"I'm her sister."

"Ah," the bartender nodded, standing up straight. "You look just like her. Are you twins?"

"No," Ui giggled, "but we get asked that often enough." She glanced at the stage. Yui and Azusa were bantering as they had at the talent show last summer, and the latter occasionally swatted the former with her harisen. "I think this is their last song," said she to Jun. "I'm gonna go watch."

Jun nodded solemnly, gnawing her straw. Ui paid for her shake and departed back into the crowd.

Asumi shook her head, arms folded, as she watched Ui go. "Hm. She doesn't have Yui-neesan's legs, but damn! that aneesan has some bazooms on her." When she heard no response from Jun, she looked down to see the kouhai staring sadly at her Coke. Her amber eyes widened and she clapped a hand to her mouth. "By the lily! That's the girl you…?"

Jun pursed her lips in response.

"She's cute!" the bartender gasped.

The bassist sipped her Coke. Ui-chan does have that going for her, but that's not why I…why I…

"She is really, really, cute," Asumi reiterated. She looked at Jun with wide eyes. "You have to do something about this. You have to be brave, okay? This is serious. If you don't tell aneesan there how you feel, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

Jun knew this was all true. Asumi had hit the mark so blatantly, Jun didn't even bother refuting it. "But, bartender-san," she said, her voice belying her agony, "what if she doesn't like me back?"

Asumi considered this. Jun waited, expecting, hoping for reassurance. She wanted the bartender to say of course Ui liked her back. How could she not? But Asumi didn't say that.

Instead she took Jun's hand in hers. "That's what I mean about being brave."

A feathery ruffle scraped through her mic as Yui giggled. From what she could see in the audience, people were as much taken by hers and Azusa's antics as the folks at the talent show were. However, some hornier individuals were calling for Azusa to smack something other than Yui's head with her harisen.

Yui squinted her marron eyes, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. As far as she could discern, Nodoka and Ui were coming, as well as Ui's friend…what was her name? Jin?

A swat from Azusa's fan brought her back to attention. She looked curiously at her harisen-wielding girlfriend, who hissed, "We've got less than five minutes before Terror Firma comes on! Introduce the closer!"

The senpai cleared her throat, facing the audience again. "Thanks for having us," she said cheerily. "We'd also like to thank our manager Sawa-chan-sensei for getting us this show. And thanks to Asumi-san and the staff here for being so good to us." She paused reflectively, then laughed. "Y'know, it was so funny when we first came to Hair to schedule this show. Though, really, it's kinda a fog to me. Maybe because I drank too much? Azu-nyan definitely did. We've got a picture of her fast asleep—"

Another rap came from Azusa's harisen, this one far less gentle than before. "Don't get side-tracked, and don't tell stories about me getting drunk."

"But you were so cute when you were drunk—ow!" By now Yui had a cross-bandage atop her head. Shaking it off, she continued, "We don't take a reception like this for granted, so we're gonna…we're gonna…we may as well introduce the band."

A rhythmic THUNK! resounded from Ritsu's Yamaha drums — the beat of Listen! — over the acclamations from the crowd.

"Bashing those pig skins," Yui spoke, projecting and elongating her voice as if she were announcing Beyonce, "the energetic scam artist, Miss Tainaka Ritsu!"

Two bars later Mio entered with her sparse but melodic bass line. She noticed people clapping quarter notes, but they were off by several beats. She figured it had something to do with the "sound gap" she learned about in physics class last year.

"On the bass guitar; shy, diligent, and easily scared — Miss Akiyama Mio!"

It took several measures of Ritsu and Mio looping Listen!'s intro whilst the audience shrieked, whistled, gave cat calls and phone number requests before Azusa could come in with her guitar part.

"This is our rhythm guitarist; cute but touchy, and wears cat ears about as well as she kisses—"

"Yui!" Azusa croaked, her strumming faltering, missing some beats.

"—Miss Nakano Azu-nyan!"

"Azusa."

"Gesundheit."

Yui had the audience in hysterics now; it was getting ever so slightly out of hand. Whether she knew it or not, the elder guitarist had dropped the bomb about hers and Azusa's relationship. It drove the crowd wild to imagine what Yui and Azusa were doing backstage…

When the audience finally settled down enough Mugi played the melody for Listen!, which provided lovely contrast with Mio and Azusa's countermelodies.

"This next girl," announced Yui, "comes from a wealthy family, but nothing else is known about her. Kind, gentle…except when Sawa-chan-sensei's insulted — Miss Kotobuki Mugi-chan!"

The name Kotobuki did strike a familiar and heated note with over half the crowd. Some of them remembered the olden days, when Holt had a financial influence over the music industry and a sexual influence on Studio 5. They eyed Mugi, noticing how that form filled her little black dress, and wondered if she could bring a similar sexual influence.

"H'aaaaaaaaaaannnnnd-a I!" Yui announced, sounding like a circus conductor. "Hirasawa Yui, the…the, uh…the, uh…" She turned to Azusa. "What can I say about myself?"

"That you're getting off-track again." Had Azusa's hands not been occupied with her guitar she would have hit Yui with her fan.

The senpai happily shrugged off her introduction, content to leave it at her name. Coming in with her part in the intro to Listen!, she said, "Give a little cheer to our cheerless tonight. This…is…Listen!" There was a thrum of silence in which only Mugi played the melody, then everyone re-entered. Yui stepped aside for Mio to take center stage and sing.

Somewhere in the middle of Yui's guitar solo in Listen! Jun returned to the audience, to Ui. The ponytailed girl's chestnut eyes shone in wonder as her older sister danced about the stage with Gitah, her tongue hugging the corner of her mouth. Jun studied Ui's enraptured face and knew a bomb explosion would not divert her attention from Yui. What chance do I stand? the pigtailed girl thought hopelessly. What chance do I stand against someone Ui-chan was born to?

Jun's focus shifted to Mio, who had resumed singing. Mio-senpai and Ritsu-senpai are going out. Mio-senpai's so meek, but she got the girl. All around her people were falling in love with each other, and Jun was stuck drowning in her cowardly doubts.

And what about Azusa and Yui? Jun sighed, knowing she could never equally match either of them in guts. What she admired the most about Azusa was her uncanny ability to get what she wanted. Azusa often had to compromise a little, but she always came out with a satisfying deal. Jun imagined she had worked this ability in her favor to get Yui.

Listen! ended and the audience exploded into the loudest and longest ovation. Someone in the crowd kicked off a rhythmic quarter-note clap, and everyone else joined in, as if imploring Afterschool Tea Time to keep performing. Jun added her own handclapping to the din, and once again found herself taken in by the crowd's enthusiasm. Her problem with Ui didn't seem any less close to her vulnerable heart, but now it was just another thing factoring into an interesting night.

Mugi stared uncertainly at the keyboard. She knew what she had agreed to do with it, but she still didn't know if she could. It wasn't something she or the other members of the band were given to.

She turned her beryl eyes toward the audience and smiled. During Yui's introduction of the band Mugi had gotten a pretty loud applause. She suspected that was due in part to Holt's fame in his younger years — now was the time for Mugi to take up his legacy. She realized somewhere in the dark corners of her mind that her father only had a handful of good years left…maybe less due to his unhealthy lifestyle…

Mugi found Sawako in the very front of the audience. Their eyes met and the sensei winked. Mugi returned the gesture by blowing her a kiss. This incited an even more exuberant collective shriek from the crowd.

Sawa-chan would do what I promised to do without a second thought, Mugi knew. Her girlfriend had thought it was awesome. It was actually something Death Devil-ish. But Afterschool Tea Time wasn't like Death Devil. Then again, it was Ritsu's idea…

She was going to do it without another thought.

Yui had apparently forgotten about Mugi's planned concert antic. Grinning, she said into the mic, "Well, good night, everybody. Enjoy Terror Fir—"

KEEEEYRAAAAASSSSHHHH!

The guitarist squeaked in alarum as the Yamaha hurtled directly behind her. The keyboard bounced up sharply, but didn't totally break. A button or two loosed from it.

For once the audience was totally silent.

Mugi stared wide-eyed at the Yamaha laying ten feet away from her. She couldn't say that she had always wanted to experience breaking a keyboard, but this fueled her. Adreneline roared in her fiery blood, making the stand seem light as a feather as she swung it over her head at the Yamaha. Mugi was so taken by the rush that she actually grunted and screamed, sounding like a blood-thirsty Anglo-Saxon, as she bashed the keyboard again and again and again. She didn't stop until every key had flown loose. Those that were left on the stage she kicked into the audience's waiting hands.

"WOO!" she heard Sawako whoop. "Rock'n'roll!" The rest of the spectators joined in shouting their approval.

Backstage, Ritsu shook her head in amazement. "I gotta say, Mugi-chan. I didn't think you would actually do that."

"Me, neither," the ojou panted. Her hands shook: an after-effect of the adrenaline. She ran her sweaty palms along her dress. Then she grinned, her eyes suddenly wild. "That was fun. What else can I break?"

The band shrunk back in terror. Azusa gasped, "Mugi-senpai's a maniac!"

"Just kidding," the keyboardist giggled.

Once they had changed into regular clothes — save for Mugi, who realized she had left her uniform with her father — the band mingled in the audience whilst Terror Firma performed. Yui and Azusa met up with Nodoka, Ui, and Jun. Mio and Ritsu made their way to the center-front of the crowd to watch the band. That left Mugi to wander about Hair in search of Sawako. Throughout her search she was stopped by countless women who wanted to gush and fawn over her.

She eventually found Sawako at the bar with Asumi. The two cousins conversed openly over bottles of Oberon beer.

"…totally wild," the sensei was saying as Mugi approached. "I mean, we did some wild stuff in Death Devil, yeah, but Jesus. We never smashed anything." Sensing the blonde girl's presence, she turned around. "Oh! Hello there, my dear destructionist."

"Well, hello yourself," Mugi smirked. She refrained from kissing Sawako in greeting, for Asumi was there. The bartender had to depart from company moments later, though, to serve a customer.

"You're dressed awfully casually," Sawako joked. Mugi noticed her eyes flick downward toward her chest before they came back up.

"Ach, this old thing?" the ojou snorted, playing along. "I just threw it on. My real nice dress is at the Laundromat."

The brunette swallowed a mouthful of beer. "Well, you look good in it." Good was an understatement to Sawako. But she felt like she had met her lovey-dovey poetic quota at the train station. Besides that, she was ever so slightly drunk. "Hey, how'd you do in the solo contest?"

Beaming, Mugi produced the container with the medal from her purse. "Gold!"

Sawako smiled, her eyes full. "Oh, Mugi-chan…You really took this day by storm," she sighed, playing with a flavicomous ringlet in the keyboardist's bangs.

"Excuse me."

Mugi turned to see two much older women standing before her. The one who spoke up wore a Plumtree T-shirt, jeans, and black Converse shoes. Her short, straight hair was put up in a little ponytail. She appeared to be in her forties.

"Your father is Holt Kotobuki, ne?"

Mugi nodded, prepared to hear praise for her father and a word of hope that she would follow in his footsteps. Her expectations weren't in vain.

"I'm a big, big, big fan of his. Seriously." The woman rolled her eyes and made grand sweeping gestures with her hands. "He's been my guycrush ever since Studio 5."

"Studio 5?" Sawako blinked. For the life of her she could not picture Holt in that scene. His name and his picture did not go with that of Rick James.

"Oh, yeah," the woman nodded exuberantly. "He was named one of the sexiest single men in the entertainment industry. That man has more notches on his belt than…than a sky has stars!"

Mugi shifted uncomfortably and averted her eyes. This was a misconception several people seemed to have about her: because she was rich, she wouldn't mind hearing about her father's sex life. The keyboardist had no doubt he had that many notches in his belt. During her parents' divorce Veronique's lawyer tried to prove that he had violated the fidelity clause. His lawyer proved that false. But Mugi had a sickening suspicion that Holt had cheated on Veronique.

The woman turned her eyes upward reflectively. "Let me see…Studio 5 was '77…He was thirty, I was twenty-four, so that would make him…sixty-two!"

Her friend spoke up, "And that would make you…"

"I'm fifty-six fucking years old."

Mugi blinked in amazement. This woman was much older than she had taken her for. She thought the woman was her mother's age, which was forty-seven.

"And he had a kid," the woman gasped, tilting her head at Mugi. "You're his spitting image. With his track record I wouldn't put knocking up a woman beyond him — but raising the kid!"

The ojou blanched. She wondered how many would-be Tsumugis Holt had planted in women. Probably those women aborted their pregnancies, but still Mugi questioned if she had any brothers or sisters somewhere in this world.

"Who did he have you with?" the woman asked eagerly. "Is he married to her?"

Mugi's mouth fell open as she tried to find a response. She realized she hadn't said anything yet. "Um…okay…He married Veronique Hohnstedt — she's a columnist for a newspaper in Lausanne, Switzerland, but, uh…they got divorced."

"Ah. So be it. I'll bet my paycheck he's thrown himself back into any pretty woman's bed."

Knowing Holt, Mugi found that hard to believe. He was stodgy, eccentric, as sexually charge as a pencil sharpener…but then that was supposed to feel about her father (unless she had a severe Electra complex, but that was more Ui's turf). Father is absent from home a lot so maybe…Maybe while he was in Kobe he impulsively bought a keyboard and a blowjob.

"Well…" The woman laid a hand on Mugi's knee. "Please let Holt-san know how very important he is to the music industry."

"Will do." As if he didn't know. That was part of what ruined his marriage.

Mugi and Sawako were silent as the two women left. The teacher took a long gulp of Oberon, wondering what she should say to break this awkward silence. She was surprised by what she heard about Holt. She had thought of him as Suze Orman, but it turned out he was Sean Connery. She had thought he had 'soft prick' written on his forehead. I really misunderestimated him.

Terror Firma was kicking out the jams. The song they were playing now was called 'Underwater Motor Scooter.' Like most of their songs, this one was heavy on the keyboards. Mio noticed their keyboardist played two — an 88-key Korg M50 and a 37-key Moog Little Phatty synthesizer — simultaneously. The raven-haired girl found herself bewitched by her familiarity.

Hitomi plucked an enchanting melody on her three-tone sunburst Telecaster as she sang, "The girls have got a house that's like a caravan / And it's like your holiday whenever you go round."

"This song is serious," Ritsu grinned. When she heard no response from Mio, she turned to see her girlfriend staring blankly at the band. The drummer detached her hand from Mio's and waved it in front of her eyes. "Are you here, space cadet?"

"I am," Mio insisted, startled. "Ricchan, does that keyboardist look familiar to you?"

"What, the nun? No…" Ritsu glared at Mio with a hurt expression. "You're not leaving me for a keyboardist in a nun outfit, are you? I can't help not being rich!"

"I'm not leaving you! And you can't make the assumption that every keyboard player is rich."

Ritsu smirked. "Whoever that familiar keyboardist is, I'd stake my savings on her being rich."

Mio returned her girlfriend's excited smile and squeezed her hand determinedly. "Alright, you're on. I'd like to talk with that keyboardist after the show, and we'll find out if she's rich. I'm betting a thousand yen she's not!"

'Underwater Motor Scooter' ended with a humming final note from the keyboardist and the bassist. Their bass player was an unassuming girl with hair like liquid copper falling down to her shoulders. Her eyes were gray, her expression revealing her shy and sweet personality. She played a turquoise Fender Stu Hamm Urge II bass.

The drummer was a goofy girl, as one could discern by the faces she made whilst playing her mahogany Pearl Sound Check 5-piece drumset. She had long straight black hair and sly brown eyes framed by a pair of round thin-framed glasses.

As Afterschool Tea Time had done, Hitomi introduced Terror Firma one by one. Mio listened eagerly for the keyboardist's name. The drummer was introduced as Katayanagi Ayana, the bassist as Arashiyama Madoka. Then there was herself, Fujusegawa Hitomi.

"All their names are such mouthfuls," Ritsu commented.

"And on funky keyboards," Hitomi called. She paused dramatically. All that was heard was the crowd cheering and Ayana impatiently rolling her sticks on the hi-hat. Then Hitomi twirled her hand toward the habited keyboardist. "Yamoto Chiharu!"

RECORDING

Chapter Twenty-One

Gambling

Mio reacted immediately. "I knew it!" she cried, enthusiastically punching the air above her. She fearfully fell quiet as Chiharu's solemn green eyes flicked toward her; she had been louder than she thought. The keyboardist's curious gaze remained fixed upon Mio, and that intimidated the bassist quite a bit. Then she looked back at her keyboards, ready to play Terror Firma's last song for the night.

"What's your deal?" Ritsu asked, beguiled by her girlfriend's sudden enthusiasm.

"That girl, that keyboardist," Mio babbled. "She was in our first grade class! Remember?"

The drummer reached up to affectionately touch Mio's vibrant face. "All I remember about first grade was you." The bassist's pearlescent eyes swam, and she tenderly grasped Ritsu's hand, holding it to her face. Rritsu, feeling slightly embarrassed, added, "You running across the playground, crying, 'I don't want to play Red Rover!'"

Mio groaned. She put Red Rover on the same plane as Bloody Knuckles: the cruelest forms of child's-play. Always she wound up playing Red Rover, and Ritsu always called her over. Remembering that game made Mio's warm fuzzy chill over; she released the drummer's hand.

"I want to take my bet off the table," she decided after a few moments' thought. "There's no way Chiharu-chan's rich."

Ritsu raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? What makes you think that?"

Mio held out her hands plaintively. "Come on, Ricchan. She went to Torimizu Primary just like you and me. Iif she was rich she would have gone to…to Chilton Academy or something!"

The drummer snickered and made her wise eyes. "Mio's afraid she's going to lose the bet," she sang.

"Oi! I'm calling off the bet for your sake! You're not going to win it!"

"I'm so confident I'll win this that I'm doubling the stakes. Two thousand yen!"

"Ricchan, do you even have the funds to cover that bet?"

Ritsu flinched at the loftiness of that question. Then she retorted, "The question is do you have the funds to cover that bet?"

Mio looked similarly uncomfortable at the idea of owing someone two thousand yen. She decided she would bluff. Then she queried, "How are you so sure Chiharu-chan's rich?"

"Sawa-chan-sensei said she comes from the Sakura district. So, if she's not rich like you say she is, why isn't she attending Sakura High School?"

That was a good point. Mio actually didn't know how to counter that. Now it seemed she should take her bet off the table for her own sake. "Maybe she's a dropout," she gulped.

Ritsu shrugged. "Maybe. We'll find out."

Jun, leaning against a brick wall, watched Ui shiver and turn her coat collar up to warm her ears. A plume of her breath burst from between her full lips as she sighed.

They had left Hair at Jun's request, abandoning its boisterous warmth for the cold reality of a November night. The two of them stood in an alleyway betwixt the bar and the pizza place nextdoor. It reeked slightly from the overflowing Dumpster, but the frigid air subdued its smell. Above them hung the fire escape for Asumi's apartment over her bar. Even higher above them spread the great heavens, the stars like silver dust cast upon the sable sky. The constellation Aquila glittered directly overhead, bringing the forceful nature that is common to those born under the sign Scorpio (the sign now transcending the sun). Jun had read about the Eagle; if Aquila could outstare the sun, then Jun could tell Ui how she felt (the bassist was, after all, a Scorpio).

"Are you," she started, but her throat rasped. She cleared it and tried again: "Are you still mad about Yui-chan and Azusa-chan?"

Ui stared at Jun from the opposite end of the alley, but her face blanked as she considered the question. In the span of time it took for her to formulate a response a brown mouse darted by, squeaking. In the Dumpster a black stray cat raised its head in interest, green eyes glowing.

"Perhaps," Ui said uncertainly. Then she said, "Azusa-chan seems to have it her way all the time between them."

"You don't know that for sure." Ui blinked, surprised by the uncharacteristic harshness in Jun's voice. "Yui-chan looks happy, doesn't she?"

The ponytailed girl glared. "She looked happy in primary school when a creepy old man told her he had candy in the back of his car. Were you not listening to me in Tokyo? She doesn't have common sense!"

The two of them fell into miserable silence. Jun sighed, knowing this was not going as she had hoped. I don't think Ui-chan would be happy with me anyways. A virtual shadow fell over her eyes.

With a squeak, the brown mouse skittered by again. The black cat, now completely intrigued, jumped down from the Dumpster and silently trotted after it.

"You can't," Jun said quietly, "compare Azusa-chan to a pedophile." She added, "How much about their relationship do you know for sure?"

"How much do you?"

The bassist's hand clenched into a fist which she knocked against the wall. Ui, gleaning enough from her silence, turned her attention to the black cat and the mouse. It's not my fault my confession turned into a battle royale with the one I love, Jun told herself. She had never been in love before, had no experience even identifying these emotions, let alone professing them to someone. A crash-course in the ways of love would be an excellent addition to Sakura's course selection.

Regarding Jun once more, Ui hypothesized, "I think you're deflecting the real problem on to something else."

The pigtailed girl looked at her in interest. She's right. Absolutely right. Obaa-chan's told me that's one of my nasty habits. Now Jun knew this was hopeless. How could she ask Ui to return her desire to know her better than anyone else when she hardly knew herself?

Ui continued, "I don't think oneechan or Azusa-chan have anything to do with what's bothering you…Unless…" She was interrupted by an abrupt squeal from the darkest depths of the alley. The cat trotted by with a regal bearing, the brown mouse thrashing in its jaws. Ui narrowed her eyes. If Azusa-chan's a cat, oneechan's the mouse underneath her paw. "Unless…Erm…" She glanced aside at Jun. "Jun-chan…you don't…love Azusa-chan, do you?"

Me? Love Azusa-chan? Jun refrained from laughing, but she could not suppress the humorous smile on her face. She and Azusa got along great as friends, but as lovers…their relationship would probably be an unstable one with a low ignition point. More suited to an arena than hearth and home. Jun could picture it if she tried: a coupla pigtailed gals out to see the hottest chick flick. New Moon, would you do Kristin Stewart, and all that. Nakano Azusa and Suzuki Jun, the two twin-tailed tribadists. Jun fell against the wall, helpless with laughter. Ui cocked her head, not understanding the reason for her friend's mirth. She took it as an affirmative — there was nothing condescending or haughty about Jun's laugh.

"Uh, interesting." Ui's face registered blank confusion. "And very sweet," she added meaningfully. "How long have you liked her for?"

The only response she got was more howling peals of laughter from Jun. Her ribs and cheeks strained so much the bassist feared they would crack. "Too…long!…I…can't…stop!" she gasped, actually referring to her laugh attack. Ui didn't know this, though. Smiling softly, she crouched and placed a hand upon Jun's shaking shoulders. "Well, I'm sure if Azusa-chan knew, she couldn't stop loving you."

This made Jun laugh harder. This was pitiful. Her fretted-over confession had steered itself into the completely opposite direction. Jun had led Ui out here to confess her love — she inadvertently ended up telling her she loved Azusa. It was either the funniest thing or the saddest thing.

Back inside the snug, less assuming atmosphere of Hair, Terror Firma's performance finally came to its conclusion after their epic cover of 'Aijou no Katamari.' Some girls hung around to get one last drink, a bottle of beer perhaps, something they could take out with them. But most of the girls cleared out, rowdy but more than satisfied by the concert they had seen. They left behind them quite a handsome mess which Konoka and Setsuna now busied themselves cleaning. Asumi also took the necessary preparations for closing her bar. Being that Hair also served as her home, the bartender opened and closed it as she pleased. Tonight it had closed later than usual.

Sawako hung around the bar, her hand semi-casually exploring Mugi's waist. It was much too late for her to head back to her apartment; she'd get more sleep if she just crashed here at Hair. In a farther corner Nodoka chatted with Yui and Azusa. The kaichou seemed anxious to leave — she threw apologetic glances at Konoka and Setsuna, feeling as though she was imposing. Ritsu and Mio had made tracks for the backstage area to talk with Terror Firma.

Asumi sighed as she dragged her smudgy rag almost dazedly across the bar. She looked up to see the last stragglers approaching. Her topaz eyes widened at the pigtailed child they brought with them. How the hell did a kid get in here?

Judging by her height and her face, Asumi put this kid somewhere around ten years old. She had such a confident bearing, though, one that suggested that her intellect and emotions had matured beyond her years. That, or she has Turner's Syndrome. The bartender refrained from shaking her head in wonder, wore her professional smile, and greeted, "What'll y'all be havin' tonight?"

The eldest of the group spoke up — Asumi put her somewhere around Sawako's age. She had short, wispy bangs and raven curls cascading down her back. "We wan' a Shirley Temple…on the rocks! With vodka."

A sweet, juvenile drink. Asumi surely hoped this spiked Shirley Temple wasn't for curly-locks, whose flushed face and swaying stance suggested that she was drunkity-drunk-drunk. The bartender's hazel eyes fell upon the kid. Flicking a thumb at her, Asumi growled, "It ain't for the kid there, is it?"

"Chiyo-chan?" Curly-locks phrased it as if Asumi was an idiot. She laughed humorlessly. "Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no." Turning her vehement glare at the quailing Chiyo, she snarled, "Chiyo-chan thinks she's too damn good to have a drink with us!"

"I-I'm underage, Yukari-sensei," Chiyo whimpered frightfully.

"Are you outta your mind?" her spark plug of a friend piped up. She was a high school-aged girl, like the majority of Hair's customers, but of shorter than average height with wild black hair that fanned out in the back. She reminded Sawako of Ritsu. "That gem of a bartender's sellin' that stuff to anybody who's got the money! And I know you got the money, Chiyo-chan."

"Just because I can doesn't mean I should, Tomo-chan."

I would probably draw the line at serving an anklebiter alcohol anyways, Asumi thought as she blearily prepared a Shirley Temple for Yukari. She really wanted to just go to bed.

"So," Asumi sighed conversationally, throwing in a dash of grenadine with the ginger ale, "this your first time here?"

"It sure is!" Tomo exclaimed. "This bar is freakin' amazing! I'm coming here every weekend!"

Her bespectacled friend cast a wearied eye upon her. All the way to Yokohama? her gaze seemed to say. Yomi was used to her childhood friend Tomo dragging her to random places — that is, unless she fell ill (then Tomo would go, call her on the phone, and give her the planned activities, blow by blow) — but this liberal bar for lesbians really took the cake (the music was good, though). The word "meganekko" had snapped all around Yomi that night like sparks on a wire. Tomo had seriously loved this place? "The horny girls here really pulled at your heartstrings, eh? I had no idea you went that way."

Tomo blushed right up to her ears. For once she was completely speechless. Then, forcing a laugh that sounded more like a bark, she waved off the comment as though it was a silly joke. "Ba-hah! Oh, you would love that, wouldn't you, Yomi? I saw you flirting with that girl in the Rolling Stones shirt. No wonder you weren't eager to leave this place!"

The tip of Yomi's nose pinkened. Tomo was mistaken, of course. The girl was flirting with Yomi, not the other way around. She had used one of the worst pick-up lines the brunette had ever heard, too — "You are like a candy bar too me, half sweet and half nuts." Yomi attempted a grim smile at her friend: "It's okay if you're a lesbian. I'll still be your friend."

"Don't say that like you feel sorry for me!…And I'm not gay!"

"'Ey, c'mon, girl," a ditzy girl with shoulder-length black hair spoke. "Don't be hatin'. Besides, it's just rude to bring crap like this up, isn't it? Like we say in Osaka: 'Don't ask, don't sell.'"

The group fell silent at Osaka from Osaka's air-headed remark. Chiyo, Yukari, Minamo, Kagura, Sakaki, and Kaorin sweat-dropped whilst Yomi and Tomo continued glaring. The bespectacled girl broke the glaring contest to raise an eyebrow at Osaka. That was when Tomo noticed Mugi; she shrieked and flew back.

"Waauugghh? Foreigner!"

Mugi cocked her head, her beryl eyes wide and blank with confusion. "Eh? I'm no foreigner. I was born in Hokkaido."

"Phony!" Tomo accused, jabbing a finger at the flinching ojou. "Don't think you can fool me! You have blonde hair and blue eyes, and where I come from, that screams 'for' to the…the, uh, '-eigner.'"

"For Christ's sake, Tomo," Yomi sighed. "She speaks Japanese. What more do you want?"

"My mother's from Switzerland," Mugi supplied.

Osaka nodded, coming to the blonde keyboardist's defense. "Yeah, 'n you know, foreigness always skips a generation."

Awkward silence again, save for when Asumi dropped the cherry into Yukari's drink. She quickly passed it to the English teacher, eager to get them all out of here so she could shut down and go to sleep. Yukari and the gang were just about to leave when Sawako stopped her.

"They call you 'sensei,'" she observed. "Are you their teacher?"

"That I am," Yukari said proudly, standing tall.

Asumi cast her cousin a withering glance.

Sawako smiled at Yukari. "I teach as well, at Sakura High School. Yamanaka Sawako." She offered her hand, but shot it forward a little too eagerly. Yukari backed away a little as Sawako's hand nearly struck her chest.

"Quite brave, aren't you?" The English teacher shook a reprimanding finger at Sawako. "Don't be mistaken. I may have a comely face and a great body, but I don't play for that team—uwaagahh!" she cried as Minamo, her friend who also taught, jerked at the collar of her jacket.

"Don't flatter yourself," she growled. "You just made yourself look stupid to a stranger."

"Call me stupid, will you?" Yukari snapped beligerently as Minamo dragged her out of Hair. "At least I don't teach P.E.! Where'd you get your teaching degree? From the back of a cereal box?"

"Should Yukari-sensei be driving like this?" Chiyo queried fearfully.

"Her car's probably been towed by now," Kagura hypothesized.

The bar was finally totally silent once they had departed. Yawning, Asumi leaned against the bar and rubbed her sore eyes. Sawako remained sitting at the bar, her hand still extended, her face blank. "What…just…happened there?" she muttered.

Mugi scowled and folded her arms across her chest. "Blonde hair and blue eyes. Huh! What a stereotype!"

Once Konoka and Setsuna finished sweeping the last of Hair's wood floors, they approached Asumi, requesting to clock out. Konoka looked absolutely drained as she murmured, "I have to get up early to fix breakfast for my room mate and teacher."

The bartender nodded. She had heard of this before. Though she was pardoning the brune ojou to leave, she inquired, "Why can't Asuna-san make her own breakfast?"

Konoka and Setsuna hesitated at the doorway. The latter of the two sweat-dropped. The former giggled good-naturedly. "Well, she did try once when we were first years, but…"

DEPART FROM YOUR DORMS IMMEDIATELY! the intercom rasped as the girls of Mahora Academy grouped about the exit. Their eyes watered from the stinging smoke. GET AT LEAST ONE HUNDRED FEET AWAY FROM THE BUILDING. REPEAT, THERE IS A FIRE IN THE DORMS! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!

Asumi nodded understandingly. Setsuna itched an eyebrow and wondered, What was up with that random flashback? I sure hope we're not turning into Family Guy!

RECORDING

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chiharu

"So, uh, Asumi," Sawako sighed, pushing her glasses up her nose. "Me and Ritsu-san were talking—"

"Ritsu…?" Asumi looked up from the cash register. Her amber eyes squinted behind her plastic-frame glasses. Then her forehead smoothed in recognition. "Oh, yeah. The runty drummer with the busty girlfriend…Lucky bitch," she snarled, her smooth hand balling into a fist.

Sawako sweat-dropped, and beside her, a blanche drop of sweat slid down Mugi's head as well. The sensei stammered, "Yeah…Heh…Lucky…" Not as lucky as me, though. She brought her hand to the small of Mugi's back. The ojou giggled, both hoping and dreading that her girlfriend's hand should come slightly lower…

"Uh, anyways!" Sawako piped up. "Ritsu-san and me were talking about that bus you sent for us."

Her cousin grinned. "Pretty sweet, huh? I love that old bus," she sighed, turning her eyes reflectively toward the ceiling. "I take it to Hokkaido sometimes."

"HOKKAIDO?" Sawako burst, standing upright. Beside her, Mugi winced and checked her ears for blood.

Asumi looked at Sawako with wide eyes, startled by her exclamation. There was a few moments' silence as the two cousins stared at each other, both of them red-cheeked for their own reasons. Mugi's blue eyes, wide with tension, drifted from one to the other. She dared not breathe. Then something clicked between them as Sawako gleaned something from her cousin, and Asumi realized what Sawako could be gleaning.

"How is this happening, Asumi?" The tension seeped from the sensei's body, and she now leaned haggardly on the bar. "A private bus, trips to Hokkaido…I was just here two months ago, and you could barely afford to stay in Yokohama! You were drunk as a skunk and crying about having to crawl back to your parents — my aunt and uncle — in Nara!"

Asumi frowned at her cash register. Her eyes were downturned and dark with some unpleasant emotion.

Sawako rubbed her chin. "Come to think of it, it really is a miracle that Hair is still in business, what with how badly-off you were…Asumi, this isn't a money-laundering scheme for the yakuza, is it?"

The bartender's eyes flashed ferociously as she glanced up at Sawako. "I can't believe you would say such a thing! You know I've always hated the mob, and I've been trying to shake that ghetto reputation since I started going to school in Osaka!"

Mugi caught a flash on Asumi's left hand, and suddenly she understood the bus and the trips to Hokkaido.

"Well, then, how is this happening?" Sawako demanded.

Asumi's eyes were full as she opened her mouth to respond. Then she closed it. A deep red flush bloomed in her face — a flush redder than Sawako had ever seen. She hid her left hand behind her back and muttered, "It is none of your business, Sawako-neesan."

The sensei knew that if she was tacking an honorific at the end of a relative's name she was being as far from chummy as was possible for Asumi. Sawako spluttered, "None of my — Jesus H. Christ. We've been more than just cousins for as long as either of us could remember! When we were kids we asked our parents if we could hang out together! How many families are that close?"

Not mine, Mugi thought. This display of family affection touched the most vulnerable part of the keyboardist's heart. She could feel the sisterly love for Asumi vicariously through Sawako. This was nothing Mugi had ever seen or felt before. She grew up in a sterile mansion where butlers served her meals and her parents were practically trying to kill each other. This loving passion between Sawako and Asumi was enough to bring a tear to Mugi's eye.

"Asumi," said the sensei. "Who was there when you broke up with Hiroko?"

The bartender muttered, "You were."

"Who was there when you broke up with Mizue?"

"…You were."

"And Shigeko?"

"You."

"And Natsuko?"

"You."

"And Eiko? And Akane, Tsubasa, Izumi, Kotone, Chiasa, Yuna, Chihiro, Minako, and Shiori?"

Wow, what a track record, Mugi thought.

Asumi sighed, "You were." She stared apologetically at her favorite cousin whom she had idolized ever since she could talk. "Well, I guess I'll tell you then. You were going to find out anyways."

Mugi knew this was true.

The bartender started to bring her left hand back out from behind her. "I'm," she began, but stopped when she saw someone come in through the door. "Kaede!" she blushingly greeted with a warmth in her soprano voice that can only come from a woman in love.

Sawako sighed. So there's yet another one I have to help her break up with. She turned on her stool, expecting to find a cute, perky twenty-something girl standing in Hair's entrance.

What she found instead was a handsome thirty-something man with black hair, a mustache, and a great smile.

Sawako looked back at her simpering cousin. Then at the beaming man. Then at her cousin. Blushing woman, vibrantly smiling man — elementary, my dear Watson. Asumi was in love with a guy.

The sensei masked her surprise with: "Woah. I'm guessing this is a rare sight in Hair."

"Yeah — 'cause I wear pants," the man called Kaede chuckled, strolling up to the bar.

"Kaede-sensei!" Mugi gasped.

Kaede's dark eyes flicked toward the ojou. His face was half-blank as he half-recognized the voice: it was deeper, though no less gentle and sweet. Then his face broke out in a pleasantly surprised smile. "Kotobuki Tsumugi! As I live and breathe!"

Sawako and Asumi asked simultaneously, "You two know each other?"

"Kaede-sensei was my piano teacher," Mugi explained brightly.

He must be one helluva pianist, Sawako thought.

"Back when Mugi-chan was knee-high to a grasshopper," he added. "She was the cutest thing ever." There followed an anecdote dating back to when Mugi was five years old. Kaede had given her this bit of piano trivia: Beethoven was deaf, and had composed his pieces by feeling the vibrations of a piano. This had staggered wee Mugi, who dedicated herself to learning the pieces and tuning the instrument by vibration. She would lean over the piano, her face touching it whilst she played. This had been the source of many a neckache for the little girl. But it was different.

Sawako understood. When she first learned guitar she bought a lefty acoustic and learned it right-handed and backwards.

"So how are you, Kaede-sensei?" Mugi inquired cheerily.

"Delirious," he responded. "I'm about to get married."

"Really? Ohhh, Kaede-sensei! That's wonderfulllll!" Even though her parents were divorced, Mugi was still a devout cheerleader for love. Right now she looked about ready to do a herky.

"Big, big, big wedding in Kobe. Sorta adds some southern charm, eh?"

Sawako stared at Asumi, her eyebrows lowering over wide, disbelieving eyes. She gasped in English, her usually disguised Kansai accent coming out thick, "Oh…my…gaw…" Her cousin, who didn't understand English, stared blankly at her. "You're getting married?" the sensei ranted in Japanese. "To him?"

Asumi raised an eyebrow, holding her silence. She seemed insulted by Sawako's skepticism.

"You little trick!" Sawako raged. "You brat!"

"Sawa-chan!" Mugi gasped, standing up. "That's not very—"

"I'm not married yet!"

"Ah. Now I get it." Sighing, the ojou sat back down.

"Oh, would you take a chill pill," Asumi huffed, waving her hand. "You're all I've got for a maid of honor."

"I'm no 'maid'…" Sawako puffed out her cheeks childishly.

Asumi then departed to clean up the kitchen and Kaede left to return to his piano shop. Almost as soon as she and Sawako were left alone, Mugi leaned in and whispered, "I thought she was…gay."

"Y'think?" her girlfriend hissed. "She used to be the lesbian ladykiller. I helped her dispose of thirteen girls. The rest of 'em she broke up with in ladies' bathrooms at various restaurants." She threw a glance at the exit through which Kaede left. "This explains the bus. She must be marrying him for the money!"

"Or they could really be in love."

Sawako sighed as she looked at Mugi, whose gentle face was now vibrant with passionate stubbornness. Sometimes I forget that she's only eighteen. But that doesn't mean I have to sugar-coat everything. "They are not in love — she isn't, anyways. Asumi said ten years ago that she would sooner drive upholstery tacks into her gums than date a guy."

"Love doesn't exist in a vacuum," Mugi argued. "You can't just exclusively associate your affections with one gender. When you get right down to it, it's personality that matters." Mugi was a cheerleader for love, but like the Tokyo Giants, her team was having a rough season.

The teacher huffed, refusing to believe that this was true. Asumi would not marry a guy unless it could prevent her crawling back to her parents' house. Also, the bartender had a tendency to never follow up on things she said she'd do. When she was nineteen she announced that she would be quitting school to volunteer her time helping orphans in third-world countries. The orphans are still waiting. This wedding would never happen.

"Well," Mugi sighed, checking the clock on the wall, "it's about time for me to take off."

"Are you sure you can't stay the night here?"

The ojou gulped. Her basic instincts were screaming at her to stay the night in their own ways. Her pulse pounding in her head, the dry feeling in her mouth, the heat in her chest spiraling downward. This would be their first night together, alone, no Holt or butlers around, just the two of them free to do whatever they wanted, go as far as they wanted. Granted, they only started dating a week ago, but the six-month rule had no sway over a grown woman and her needs.

Mugi shook her head. "No, I can't." Her womanly needs could not foresee the trouble she would get in with Holt if she spent the night.

Sawako had the blonde girl by her wrist, by which she now pulled her in. Her other hand came to her waist. Mugi settled her free arm around the sensei's neck.

The first kiss was only pure compared to the others that night. Sawako opened her mouth, wetting Mugi's parched mouth with her tongue. The keyboardist gasped between kisses, her hot-blooded heart urging her lungs onward faster and faster, like a drill instructor. Her sweaty hands shook as she closed her lips around her girlfriend's tongue, sucking on it until Sawako groaned. Mugi was seriously reconsidering her decision to not stay the night. She could tell her father that she had stayed the night at a friend's place. She could. He would never know the truth.

The prospect of staying the night seemed even more promising when Sawako's hand trailed towards the front, pulling the dress up to give her access to—

"Y'know, ordinarily I'd be getting turned on." Sawako and Mugi jumped apart in alarm. Behind the bar stood Asumi, locking the cash register, eyes averted. "But one of you's my blood relative, so take that somewhere else."

"I was just about to go anyways." Mugi's parting line came out louder than she had intended. A mottled blush colored her cheeks and her chest. She looked at Sawako, silently bidding her good night, then skeeted out of Hair.

Once outside the enormity of that concupiscible exchange crashed down on Mugi, this time with more sensibility. Sawako really did intend to bring her hand where only Mugi's hand had been before. The keyboardist knew deep within her gut that perhaps next time there would be no Holt or Asumi holding either of them back.

Whereas Mio had doubts and second thoughts about approaching Chiharu (they hardly spoke to each other, over ten years ago), Ritsu seemed confident in going to speak with an old classmate. She threw open the door to the backstage room and strolled right in. She came tearing back out — pale, saucer-eyed, and bloody-nosed — after she came upon Chiharu helping Hitomi out of her bustier.

"You never do knock, so serves you right," Mio admonished, only glad that she had not followed her girlfriend inside. Somehow she knew just barging in would lead to this. There goes our good first impression.

Ritsu gagged. After seeing Terror Firma's guitarist like that, she did not want to hear the word 'knock.'

It didn't take long for Terror Firma guitarist and keyboardist to give Afterschool Tea Time bassist and drummer the all-clear. Hitomi appeared in the doorway, dressed in jeans and a three-quarter sleeve plaid shirt. Her blue eyes hooded in annoyance as she regarded Ritsu, telling the "drummer-han" she could come in for whatever she wanted. Hitomi seemed miffed when Ritsu did not say she was sorry. Mio brought the side of her hand to her nose in apology.

The bassist could have laughed at the wave of nostalgia that overcame her when she beheld her old classmate, her fellow sister mantel of five minutes. Chiharu had grown up to be one of the short girls who exude an insecurity of their unintimidating heights. Her ash brown hair which used to be styled in perfectly straight shelf bangs was now cut into a fluffy pixie style. But everything else was the same about Chiharu: the oval face, the hooded green eyes, the dark eyebrows. She and Madoka stood leering at Ayana whilst the scrappy drummer scurried about the room.

Madoka groaned, "How come everytime we take you somewhere you lose something?"

"You wanna go on tour without a drummer, Ginger-chan?" Ayana retorted in a voice that was not at all menacing. "I'd be happy to stay in the dorms."

The redhead flushed. "I told you to stop calling me that!"

"Call you what? Ginger?"

Chiharu squeezed her eyes shut, probably wishing she could go back home. When she opened them they fell upon Mio and Ritsu lingering uncertainly in the corner. She blinked, averted her eyes, her thick brows lowering uncomfortably. When she looked back she found them still staring. Did they want to speak with her?

"Hi," she murmured, keeping her face on Ayana.

"Well, hi yourself, Chiharu-chan!" Ritsu sang, startling the keyboardist. Chiharu's verdant eyes darted about, and Mio actually laughed. For Chiharu had done the exact same thing when Mrs. Abe had confronted her.

Hitomi crossed her arms and glowered at Ritsu. "How do you know Chiharu, drummer-han?" she queried suspiciously.

Chiharu held up a hand to assure her Kansaian girlfriend that everything was fine as freckles. "I do know you, don't I," she grunted. Her eagle eyes flicked to Mio. "Both of you. You're very familiar." She now regarded Mio: "You would have to be with all the gawking you did all night."

A cloud of steam burst from the raven-haired girl's head amid the crimson heat that rose to her face. Chiharu wasn't as aggressive as Ritsu, but nevertheless she was terribly blunt.

Chiharu smiled. Still she spoke to Mio, but her eyes zipped back toward Ritsu. "I hope that was why you were gawking. I'm happily taken, and I would hate to be the rift between you two. Sinistromanuel and stormy petrel. That is what we call a miracle pairing."

Now Mio's head burst for two reasons which she couldn't form coherent sentences for. Instead she ended up babbling gibberish. "I'm not in love with — wait! You remember — Taken?...Oh, that guitarist— miracle?"

"You remember." Ritsu flashed a toothy grin at Chiharu. They were roughly the same height. "Good to see you again, you old caricaturist."

Ayana's arm darted under the couch in search of her cell phone. "You guys got some weird-ass nicknames."

"We had a weird-ass sensei," Chiharu responded. She had earned the name 'caricaturist' for the cartoons she drew in the middle of class. Most of them had been gags modeled off of Tom and Jerry. Then she began to draw outrageous pictures of Mrs. Abe. The most popular one involved a classmate punching the teacher in the gut, crying, "SURPRISE CHILD ABORTION!" Mrs. Abe was puking a fetus. Chiharu was glad none of those got to the teacher…or Aiko, the class tattle-tale.

"Awesome performance you put on," Ritsu acclaimed, nodding. "How did you get to replace New Order?"

"Asumi-san heard our album," Chiharu replied.

Mio blinked. "Album…?" Just how well-established was Terror Firma, she wondered. She had thought it was nothing more than four unlikely girls thrown together — like Afterschool Tea Time. But Mio supposed every band got their start that way.

She jumped forward. "You recorded an album, Chiharu-chan? An actual, bonified, real album? Really?"

Chiharu flinched in surprise. Backing away from Mio, she fidgeted and turned her eyes to the floor. "It's…no great shakes…" She chuckled a bit. "Only seventeen minutes long. Months of hard work."

Ayana shrugged as she checked under the couch for the umpteenth time. "We make concise statements."

"I listened to it approximately thirty-two times on the bus to here from Kyoto," Hitomi sighed.

"But, but," Mio babbled. Some part of her feared Chiharu thought she was mentally ill. Sentences could no longer come together. "How?"

The keyboardist had the look on her face of a girl who had either accidently set her house on fire or disclosed the wrong bean of information to a crazy-bus. This was not how she remembered Mio. Akiyama-san the reticent sinistromanuel spoke at whisper-volume, and she only spoke one word for every ten you spoke. Chiharu glanced at Ritsu, suspecting she had something to do with this.

Ritsu added, "Which studio did you record at? Columbia? Honey Records? Jeepster? Matador?"

Chiharu shrunk further away, fearing this reunion would escalate to violence. Crossing her arms and lowering her chin, her sharp eyes searching for an escape, she stuttered, "Not at a studio. We used my grandpa's recording equipment to make it. Hitomi—" she pointed at her taciturn guitarist girlfriend "—her mother is a publicist, and an amazing one at that. She did the bulk of the work promoting our album. Aya-chan—" she now pointed at Ayana, who scowled around the room for her cell phone "—her father played the album over the radio. He also announced our show at Hair."

Mio looked at Ritsu, who pursed her lips and nodded in a well-how-about-that gesture. It seemed to them that their old classmate had been blessed with favorable connections.

The drummer tapped her chin. "I didn't know you could record albums at home."

"We're taking a class in it," Mio sighed, "or have you forgotten?"

Chiharu relaxed her posture and smiled. "Ah, a recording class? We don't have that at St. Mary."

At Chiharu's request, Mio explained the process they learned. The keyboardist nodded her head knowingly, smiling wistfully at the lack of such a class at her own school. When Mio told her that the class used Noteworthy 7 to edit tracks, Chiharu's eyes widened in distaste. Faltering, Mio practically whispered, "Noteworthy's…no good?"

Her eyes still wide, Chiharu shook her head. "No." For the first time, she sounded truly passionate about something. "Hell, no. Cakewalk's the only way to go if you're serious about recording. All Noteworthy does is compression and panning. Cakewalk can do a hundred times more than that. It also provides sample beats and sound effects."

"Well, Noteworthy's all we got," Ritsu sighed, shoving her hands in her blazer pockets. "It's all Sakuragaoka can afford. Not everyone's rich, Chiharu."

The keyboardist's chin jerked up as she gulped. In her wide virude eyes Ritsu detected an immensely satisfying fear of recognition.

Mio's thin lips tightened as she set her jaw. Gosh, it would be nice if we could get an album out. Writing new songs and performing them for crowds assembled at the school festival was fun, but the bassist knew they were quickly moving beyond that. They had performed at their last (Azusa's penultimate) festival; it was time to take it to the next level. But I don't have enough money to buy Cakewalk software…Mio hummed thoughtfully. Maybe if we pool our savings together, then…Oh, but we need other equipment like mics…

Ritsu asked, "Mio, d'you think we should record an album?"

Carl Jung's theory on 'meaningful coincidence' had nothing on Mio's frantic reaction. "Uh — uh, well, I wasn't thinking that, but —" She parted her bangs out of her slate eyes, unconsciously thinking about how much she needed a haircut. "Um, but we can't afford it."

"Sure we can! Cakewalk can't cost more than five thousand yen!"

"Ten thousand," Chiharu corrected. She could feel guilt straining her chest like a seatbelt as Mio and Ritsu's shoulders slumped in pitiful defeat. She had never known li'l Akiyama-san and Tainaka-san were so sharply inclined to the strong, loving world of music. But they were serious, the keyboardist realized. Only serious musicians could craft such tunes as had been performed tonight with that level of care. In that, Chiharu related Afterschool Tea Time to Belle and Sebastian, her favorite band.

"Uh, look," she coughed. "Why don't you drop by my grandpa's place next weekend? I'll help you produce your album."

Mio's jaw wagged open. Ritsu had stars in her eyes. "You would?" the drummer chirped in a falsetto voice. "I…I…Oh, my God!"

"Chiharu-chan…!" Mio gasped.

Chiharu glared aside and blushed. "None of that," she grunted, suppressing the emotion in her voice. "I expected better of you two. I'm only willing to do this if you're serious. If you're not…don't bother showing up."

"When it comes to recording, Chiharu has a tendency to crack the whip," Hitomi warned.

Mio was absolutely certain that she was seriousenough to record a great album. She knew Azusa would flip for this. Mugi would be an active and willing participant. Even Ritsu would press her nose to the grinder. But…

"Maybe we should leave Yui at home," Ritsu murmured. "Let Azu-nyan do her parts." The idea of Yui working for the stern and unyielding Chiharu frightened the drummer. Chiharu would have so little patience for Yui's shenanigans that she might literally crack a whip at her…or just send the lot of them home.

"We can't," Mio burst, her voice thick. "Yui's a part of us — we can't just leave her out!"

"Eh, you're right. But she better not slack off!"

Madoka groaned in annoyance as Ayana checked under the couch once more. The redheaded bassist pulled out her cell phone, flipped it open, and brought up her list of contacts. "I'm calling your phone, Aya-chan. If that doesn't help you find it, we have to go home regardless."

"Madoka-chan," Ayana huffed, "if you grub on me one more time I'm getting St. Mary in on our own Kick a Ginger Day."

Seeing as Madoka was the only ginger on the boarding school's campus, that would mean everyone would come for her. She ignored her friend's complaints and scrolled through her contacts. Ayana's name was first on the list, so the task of calling her was completed in nanoseconds. Madoka's silver eyes flicked upward, as if she was in an elevator, as she listened to the drone of the dial tone.

Ayana visibly jumped in shock as her back pocket vibrated. Pachelbel's Canon in D pealed from her rear end.

Despite the white-hot rage that boiled and bubbled within her, Madoka smiled dangerously as she closed her phone. Pachelbel ended abruptly, a ghastly precursor to what would happen to the drummer now that her copper-haired friend's anger was aroused. Ayana backed away from the slowly advancing Madoka.

"In the immortal words of Brutus," the redhead snarled once she had Ayana cornered. She snatched the coal-haired girl by her shirt collar: "Speak hands for me." Shakespearean for "I'm going to kill you."

What ensued was a crazy chase round the backstage room. Madoka and Ayana circled and feinted about the shabby couch. The pursuit ended when Madoka, giving an uncharacteristic and almost animal-like roar, dove over the back of the sofa and brought the drummer down on the coffee table in a flying tackle.

"Okay, ya know what," Hitomi yawned. "We found Aya-chan's cell phone. Let's go. I'm bushed."

"Good idea," Chiharu assented, also yawning. Yawning has a pandemic way of spreading; soon Mio and Ritsu found themselves yawning. The keyboardist smiled at them. "Good seeing you guys again. I look forward to seeing you next Saturday."

Mio both hoped and feared this bet of hers and Ritsu's would remain unsolved when Madoka cautioned Chiharu: "Watch your step, ojou-sama."

RECORDING

Chapter Twenty-Three

Three Simple Words

Azusa tried to keep herself from leaning too heavily on Yui, but the senpai didn't seem to mind either way. The two of them traipsed the sidewalks of their hometown toward the Nakano residence. The moon waxed full, giving everything startling silvery clarity. By day, Azusa thought, her neighborhood was like any other; but by night it resembled a monochromatic acrylic painting. Everything had a sharp contrast: brightly lit on one side, deeply shadowed on the other. Objects had a unique sense of mass; grass stalks seemed as sturdy as marble pillars.

"The moon's so pretty," Yui chirped. Her voice didn't belay one note of exhaustion, yet Azusa knew the moment her head touched a pillow she would pass out into one of her Yui-comas. The kouhai smiled.

"They say the moon inspires insanity," she said conversationally. "The English word 'lunacy' comes from the Latin lunaticus — which means 'moon sickness.'"

"Your English is so cute, Azu-nyan," the older girl giggled. "Though I didn't understand any of those words you used."

It was then that Azusa let her head drop to Yui's shoulder. Her girlfriend put her arm around her, supporting her whilst she trundled drowsily along. Whether Azusa fell asleep or not she was not sure of. She was only aware of eons of time slipping by in a few slumberous minutes. When she lifted her heavy, sleep-clogged head off Yui's shoulder to look up at her, she found her girlfriend in a pleasant, tranced-out state; eyes glazed, cheeks pink. Azusa could guess what she was thinking about. It was that guess that prompted her to hook her arm around Yui's waist. She wouldn't ordinarily do this sort of thing in public, but she knew they were safe under the night's cloak.

A few moments later Azusa abruptly pulled Yui to a stop before the Nakano driveway.

"You almost dragged me past my house," she accused.

"Azu-nyan was ready to walk past, too," Yui muttered.

"I w-was not!" Azusa spluttered, flustered. "And stop referring to me in the third person!"

"But your name is so cute…"

Cute, bah, the pigtailed girl snorted inwardly, sounding like a Japanese Scrooge, as she led the giggling Yui up to the front porch. What am I, a cupie doll?

The porch light was the only trace of gold in the silver moonlight world. Moths pelted it relentlessly, turning the light into a natural disco ball. Azusa frowned at the moths, thinking how late it was for them to still be out when she realized…

"You've got a birthday coming up," she said, turning back to Yui.

The older girl paused before grinning. "I do. In twenty days." She snatched Azusa up in a crushing hug, nuzzling her cheek. "Are you getting me a present, Azu-nyan?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get you something…Now put me down!"

Yui brought Azusa back down to her feet, but didn't release her from her embrace. The kouhai rested her arms about Yui's neck, leaning into her a bit. As she listened to the senpai's breathing, she got fed up with herself. Fed up with her aversion to love. No public displays of affection, stop hugging me, don't call me cute like that — it was all crap, and it made Azusa sound like a C U Next Tuesday. Who am I to deny Yui-senpai like this? Admit it, she's made you happier than you've been…ever. Go on, admit it.

Azusa felt a familiar nervous energy in her arms. She hadn't felt this way since Halloween.

As if sensing her girlfriend's cark, Yui murmured, "What are you thinking about, Azu-nyan?"

"I just…" The senpai relaxed her grip, allowing Azusa to pull back. The pigtailed girl dragged the back of her hand tenderly along Yui's jaw as she muttered, "I was thinking…about how happy you make me." She would have asked Yui how happy she made her, but decided there was no questioning that.

Suddenly the kouhai was aware, like a florid smell pervading muggy summer air, of that intoxicating lilac scent assailing her nose. Oh God, Yui's smell. How provocative it was! Now Azusa really couldn't deny her feelings for her favorite senpai. She stopped stroking her face and cupped it as she leaned in for a kiss. Yui intercepted her girlfriend's motions by wrapping her arms more tightly about her waist. She pressed Azusa close to her chest, like the younger girl was something infinitely precious to her, and gently covered her thin but plump lips in a slow, reverent kiss. They kissed three times, not seeing the aurulent porch light, yet they basked in its glow, as well as a rosy glow of their own.

"Oh, Yui," Azusa breathed. They weren't kissing now, but Yui gently held the swart-haired girl's lower lip between her own whilst she caught her breath. Azusa was now rubbing her palm against her girlfriend's cheek. She loved Yui. She loved everything about her. She loved her charmingly easygoing manner, her acceptance of things the way they were, and her openheartedness and cheerful honesty. She loved the sound of her voice, the barrettes she wore in her hair, but most of all the smell of her skin. If Azusa was a cat, then Yui was catnip to her: addictive, and with such a tantalizing scent. The kouhai found herself crushing her face against Yui's. She could practically taste lilacs in her mouth and throat.

Yui's body didn't stiffen or lock up. But her soprano voice did sound awkward as she chuckled, "Azu-nyan, you're kinda…"

"Hang on…I gotta…" Azusa froze mid-nuzzle. Cold sweat snaked down beside her eye, chilling in the autumn midnight. Oh my God! I'm all over her! Breathless with horror, she tore herself away from Yui, her lungs aching for more of her heady fragrance. She was so ashamed of her ardency that she couldn't even face her. The kouhai's shame felt hollow yet leaden in her heart. "I-I have self-control," she stuttered, assuring both Yui and herself. "I'm not an animal…I've got a brain…"

The older girl was bent forward with laughter that was not mean or mocking, but genial and hearty. She stared at her hands from which Azusa had somehow escaped and giggled. Humming her girlfriend's name amid peals of mirth, Yui brought her arms around her small shoulders, hugging her the way she used to when they first met. A moment later Azusa's shaking ceased and her jaw unclenched. It was a warm embrace, but not carnal — one of those artful, sexless moments. The younger girl kind of forgot why she was so embarrassed by how foolish she had been earlier. Sighing, she pressed a caressing hand to Yui's forearm, knowing this would be an unforgettable moment for her.

The moment was truly unforgettable when Yui turned Azusa around so their lips just touched, whispered, "I love you, Azu-nyan," and punctuated the declaration with a sensual kiss.

There it was, the thing Azusa had tried once to tell Yui, and Yui had just flawlessly told her. The kiss was like a signature on the contract of love. The pigtailed girl tilted her head to plant another kiss on her girlfriend's full lips, buying extra time to figure out how she should answer this.

When Yui pulled back her brown eyes smouldered in the gold and silver light. Azusa knew that, like any sane person, she wanted a response.

"Same here." The instant Azusa said that she regretted it.

Yui's smile never wavered as they kissed a few more times. Azusa wanted to hit herself over the head with a shovel. Why, why, why did I say that? I was supposed to say 'I love you, too,' and what did I say? 'Same here.' God, I'm such a retard. The kouhai groaned for reasons unrelated to kissing.

"Easy there," Yui teased as they pulled back. "I've got a brain, you know."

Azusa lightly smacked her girlfriend's arm.

"Do you want to stay the night?" The ebony-haired girl thought this might make up for her obvious inability to say I love you. "I mean, your house is really far away."

The senpai turned her dust-colored eyes upward as she considered the offer, and that worried Azusa. If Yui really wanted to sleep over, she would say yes, regardless of the consequences. The kouhai's apprehension bordered on panic when Yui said, "No, thanks. You have to be up early tomorrow, and I'd just be in the way."

She's mad at me! She's mad because I didn't say 'I love you'! None of the Light Music Club members had ever seen Yui get angry, but what other explanation was there? Yui never thought in terms of what could happen. Azusa was sure that this was a flimsy lie covering that she didn't want to be around the kouhai right now.

Azusa had officially entered panic.

The worst part was that she really did love Yui. But because she couldn't say it, everything between them was going to be ruined. What was wrong with her? Did she have a mental illness that prevented her from expressing love? Caritaphobia. That was a real irrational fear, wasn't it? Everyone else could say 'I love you.' Her parents said it to each other all the time. Sometimes after band practice she overheard Sawako and Mugi saying it to each other. And she had no doubt Mio and Ritsu said it. All around Azusa the words 'I love you' were flying out of people's mouths. And she just could not say it, no matter how much she meant it.

And really, Azusa couldn't blame Yui for being suspicious. This was the second time she hadn't said 'I love you.' The first time was probably pardoned due to nervousness. Now Yui was probably wondering if Azusa really loved her at all.

Yui started to descend the one step off the porch. Flustered, Azusa cried, "Yui-senpai!"

A little startled, Yui turned around. Above her Azusa stood rigidly, her shoulders up to her neck. Her small hands anxiously clutched the hem of her skirt like a grade schooler would. Her maroon eyes were wide with fright. Behind her the porch's jaune light splayed and scattered around her, like a holy glow.

"Yui-senpai," the kouhai exclaimed, "I…I…" She fell silent, quivering violently, her breath shaky and shallow-sounding. She wanted to say it.

Yui's smile was brighter and more golden than the porch light. "I love you, too."

Azusa exhaled and let Yui head back home. She lingered by the door, watching her girlfriend stretch her arms behind her head at the end of the driveway. Her silhouette was nothing more than an obscure shadow in the moonlight. So Yui knew at least that Azusa loved her. She wasn't angry. That was what the kouhai wanted, wasn't it?

It wasn't. More than anything Azusa really wanted to say it.

It was dark in her room, as dark as it gets, when Azusa was shaken awake by her mother. The only light that permeated through the inky pre-winter blackness came from the hallway outside her door and the piercing ruby numbers of her digital clock which told her it was 05:14. Five hours' sleep…That was the first thought Azusa had, and it made quite the journey to emerge from her slumber-fogged conscious. Her head dropped back to her pillow.

Mrs. Nakano clicked on the nightstand lamp. Pink light dazzled Azusa's closed eyes and, moaning, she threw an arm over them.

"C'mon, up and at 'em." Her mother's voice sounded odd, like she was trying not to laugh. "You've got your root canal today."

Azusa lowered her arm and squinted at her mom. Mrs. Nakano had a hand over her mouth, obviously trying to hide a smile. She was the one who had described every gruesome detail of a root canal, so the noir-haired kouhai wondered what she was laughing about. Azusa sat up and realized she had gone to bed in her uniform with her hair still up. Oh.

"I'm not glad that I'll have to take your uniform to the drycleaners," Mrs. Nakano admonished whilst her daughter threw together an outfit from her chest of drawers, "but I sure hope you had fun sleeping in it."

"I'll take care of it," Azusa groggily promised, trudging over to the bathroom.

Sometimes a shower could really be her worst enemy. The warm water just made her drowsier. Usually she was all business in the shower and it was just the process of washing her lengthy hair that kept her in there long. Now she just lingered between washing and conditioning, lavishing the cozy, relaxing spray. Eventually Mrs. Nakano pounded on the door and ordered her daughter out of there. When Azusa emerged from the bathroom, her shiny hair plastered to her Micky Mouse sweater from when she was eleven, her mother scolded her about using up the hot water, save some for your father, the poor man deserves a warm shower, too, doesn't he? The guitarist nodded and responded automatically. It was still pitch-black outside. This all felt like a dream.

She got a little shut-eye in the car on the way to the hospital. Her mother, whose name was Mitsuki, grunted, wishing she could fall asleep as easily. Azusa had gotten that from her father. Mitsuki remembered how in high school she would come upon Hikaru napping in the most random places. Usually he had his guitar strapped around him. That must be nice, she thought wistfully, to fall asleep so easily.

"Why are you…?" Azusa's sleep-talk trailed off into muffled babble. Mitsuki glanced at her daughter. Azusa was still snoozing, though her eyebrows were lowered in a glare. She remained quiet and still for the next fifteen minutes. Then she shifted in her sleep so she laid (sat?) on her side, arms outstretched in front of her. Most of what she said was gibberish which reminded Mitsuki of when she was a babbling, cooing infant, outspoken in her own baby way. Azusa said something like, "Take me…" The rest was indecipherable. Then she said, loud and clear, "I love you."

Mitsuki sucked in her breath, her brown eyes focused on the road. Now it was official. Her daughter was really in love with someone. She ran through some of the boys Azusa hung out with, trying to see if she could gauge which one had stolen her daughter's heart. It was a short list, considering most of Azusa's friends were girls. Mitsuki's best guess was Sakamoto Takao, a shy boy whom Azusa had palled around with since primary school…Or he was the boy Mitsuki hoped Azusa was in love with. The other guys were good friends to her, but the woman doubted they would be good boyfriends.

Take me. Mitsuki sweat-dropped as she left the highway. Don't tell me Azusa's having…that kind of dream. The dark-haired woman tried to calm herself by reminding herself of two things: one, Azusa couldn't help what she dreamed. And two, sex dreams weren't really about sex.

Mitsuki had to once again wake her daughter once they arrived at Hana to Kokoro Hospital, where Dr. Ootsuka, the family's go-to oral surgeon, earned his living. Azusa hadn't been here in over ten years.

In the elevator she told her mom a bit about the dream she had. In it Azusa and Yui were cornered in an alleyway by goons with switchblades. The kouhai ordered Yui to call the police. The elder girl complied, dialing 911 on her cell phone, and then she handed the phone to Azusa, who had yelled, "Why are you handing me the phone?" Mrs. Nakano observed, "Your friend seems very dependent of you." Azusa snorted in agreement. What she hadn't told her mother was the fragment of her dream in which she was trying to tell Yui she loved her. She said the words over and over, but Yui kept laughing and telling her how cute she was. Azusa remembered yelling, "Take me seriously!" but Yui just laughed. The pigtailed girl's frustration was so consuming she wanted to punch Yui. But she was rooted where she stood, paralyzed.

In the waiting room Azusa realized that fragment represented a role reversal. In the parallel world of dreams she could say 'I love you' as easily as Yui could say it in the real world. She had wanted her girlfriend to say it back to her, but she would not. And, Azusa suspected, this was what was going on between them, in reverse. Maybe it's me who's not taking Yui-senpai seriously.

Around noon Mitsuki dragged a still-woozy Azusa into the house. They found Hikaru in the den, lazily strumming his guitar and using his foot to turn the pages of his tab-book on the coffee table. Azusa extended a hand toward the guitar, quietly requesting it through a mouthful of cotton balls. The right side of her face was mottled mauve. Her father hesitantly passed her his guitar.

Her garnet eyes dull from the anesthetic and her face numb from the novocaine, Azusa clutched the instrument with both hands by the neck, the headstock teetering just inches from her face. The coal-haired kouhai murmured, "Strummin' on old man Joe," and rapped the guitar lightly against her head.

Her father took the guitar back from her.

After Mitsuki got Azusa down for a nap (a task she hadn't done since her daughter was four), she came strolling back into the living room. Hikaru was skimming through his new tab-book, purchased for just ninety yen at Goodwill, with his foot. He was looking for either a new song or a song he hadn't played in a really long time. He was a small man with black hair that he let flop forward on his forehead.

"In the car Azusa said 'I love you,'" Mitsuki announced.

"Aw, that's sweet," Hikaru murmured in his gruff tenor voice.

"…in her sleep," Mitsuki added.

Hikaru's foot froze. "I think I may need more information."

And Mitsuki was only too happy to give it to him. She sat herself beside him on the sofa. He closed his tab-book and inclined himself toward her. "I was driving her to Ootsuka, and she was asleep, and she said 'Take me' and 'I love you.'" Hikaru grimaced and his face flushed. His wife continued, regardless, "That means she does have a boyfriend! Or someone she likes! Do you think I should talk to her about this?"

Hikaru lowered his chin and peered at her from under heavily-lashed eyelids. "D-didn't you…already talk to her about this?"

Mitsuki nodded and waved a small hand. "Yeah. But back then she didn't have a boyfriend. Or someone she likes. If it's the former, I want to be sure she's being safe…"

Now his face was tomato-red. Trembling uncontrollably, he ranted, "Oi! What makes you think I want to hear that? All I want to know is who she's dating and if he treats her alright." Mitsuki giggled at his humiliation, and he turned away. "Jeez!"

"Hi-ka-ru," she sang. "Does someone need a hug?"

He held his head up stiffly, jaw rigid, as though he was balancing something upon it. "You and your — no, I don't want a hug!"

He gasped as he felt her arms close gently around his neck, her breasts so soft and provocative against his back. Her nose and lips brushed against his right ear as she teased, "I didn't ask if you wanted a hug, silly Naka-Hika. I asked if you needed a hug."

I've got the feeling she's going to give me more than just a hug…Hikaru gulped. She was pressed close to him and pressing closer. He laid aside his guitar. As soon as he turned toward her, she gently pushed him down onto his back. Her mouth found his in the warmly-lit living room, her hands pushing up his sweater and worming under the shirt beneath, her body curving into all his parts and places. Hikaru realized that the last time they fucked was when Mitsuki was pregnant; she was twenty-three, and he was twenty-two. That was an awfully young age to swear off sex for the next decade-and-a-half.

"Are…you sure she's asleep?" he gasped between kisses, suppressing moans and groans as she gyrated slowly in his lap.

"She's not a baby. If she wakes up and hears us, she'll deal." Mitsuki drew in a shaky breath as she felt Hikaru's boner pressing against the most sensitive part of her. His face was so red even his forehead was flushed. Crimson is the color of passion, and right now the most erotic zeal smouldered in his almond-shaped erubescent eyes. He squinted, his pupils dilating, which Mitsuki found oddly hot. She leaned forward and lightly brushed her lips along the bridge of his nose. "Just use your inside voice. If you can."

Nostalgia washed over Hikaru as they made love that afternoon (and, fortunately, not another baby). It reminded him of high school, when "Let's watch a movie" meant "Let's sleep together on the couch." He locked eyes with the funny, easygoing woman who was more than just his wife, and realized that her eyes were the same ones he had locked his on in 1987, in 1990, in 1993. Thirty-eight-year-old Nakano Hikaru could look into her eyes now and be fifteen again, nineteen, twenty-two. It brought him more bliss than he ever thought possible for his life as a husband and a father.

Just thank God the anesthetic kept Azusa from waking up.