Early Sunday morning.
Fuyuji Mikage lay in bed, a thin blanket draped over him. One slightly red and swollen hand extended out from beneath the covers. The air conditioner louvers swayed leisurely in the quiet, tranquil room.
The day before, he and his pal had finished giving their account of the stalker incident's full story at the Student Council. The police had co to the school, questioned them in detail about the sequence of events, and taken their statents. Then they had taken Fuyuji to the school infirmary to have his hand examined.
After all of that was done, the ti was already approaching 9 PM. Both physically and ntally exhausted, Fuyuji had hastily washed up and collapsed onto his bed.
Fortunately, today was Sunday. He could lie in until 10 in the morning, and then while away a lazy, languid day.
This was a small patch of blank space within the busy tapestry of life. It could belong entirely to himself.
Fuyuji lay peacefully in bed, his consciousness gradually hazing over. His body felt as if it were subrged at the center of a lake, surrounded by green leaves, sunlight, and fluttering butterflies...
"Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong!"
But that piercing, grating doorbell seed to have absolutely no intention of stopping...
Fuyuji smacked his lips and rolled over, trying to return to the center of the lake and continue catching that fluttering butterfly.
"Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong!"
The doorbell continued to ring incessantly, stubbornly, unrelentingly.
Fuyuji glared at the white ceiling and ntally resolved to find soone to tear that doorbell down tomorrow.
The door creaked open a crack, revealing a pair of eyes brimming with lancholy and deathly stillness.
"Morishita Ai. You have three seconds to explain why you are disturbing my peaceful slumber at the crack of dawn. Otherwise, I shall be forced to test upon your person the fruits of my verbal sparring with the Advanced Nurturing High tentacle monster these past few days."
"Ho~ Is that so?"
Morishita Ai folded her arms. Her legs stood naturally apart in a casual, relaxed stance. Her fingers tapped rhythmically against her own shoulder as she cast a disdainful, sidelong glance at Fuyuji. Without the slightest emotional fluctuation, she began her incantation.
"Tuesday afternoon. Four hours, fifty minutes, thirty-six seconds. Fuyuji Mikage, within the first-year Class A classroom, made an agreent with Morishita Ai and Yamamura Miki. This week, Sunday morning, at precisely eight o'clock, they were to assemble at the entrance of the student dormitory and proceed together to the library."
"..."
The door swung open instantly. The gust of air stirred the strands of Morishita's hair, revealing that flat, cold, indifferent little face.
Fuyuji squeezed out a strained smile. "Great Morishita... I can explain."
"The current ti is eight hours, twenty-four minutes, twelve seconds. As I speak this sentence, it has just turned to fifteen seconds. Fuyuji Mikage, are you prepared to journey to hell?"
"Um... that..."
Cold sweat instantly stread down Fuyuji's face.
"Co now, Fuyuji Mikage. No need to stand on ceremony."
Morishita stepped forward in her small leather shoes, closing in step by step.
"Ending the pain will be quick. As punishnt for standing up Morishita-sama..."
"Fuyuji-kun. Morishita-san. What are you two doing here? Why didn't I see either of you at the dormitory entrance?"
An ethereal, hollow voice drifted over, faint and ghostly.
Yamamura Miki had materialized like an apparition behind the two of them. She stood holding her bag, dressed in casual clothes, her voice carrying a tone of forlorn resentnt, as though she had been abandoned.
"Yamamura, listen, this was an accident—"
Wait! Which ans...
Fuyuji's eyes slowly narrowed as he turned toward Morishita, who, just monts ago, had been radiating murderous fury.
Morishita's face switched expressions in a single second. Her gaze drifted evasively as she tilted her head and began whistling tunelessly.
"So you were late too, you bastard!" Fuyuji flew into a towering rage and seized both of Morishita's cheeks with his hands. "And you actually had the nerve to co running over here and interrogate ?!"
Morishita's voice ca out squashed and flattened. "Being late is the privilege of a girl. And when I went downstairs and saw only Yamamura Miki standing there, I instantly realized the very real possibility that Fuyuji Mikage might have already died in his dorm room. In order to ascertain the truth of this matter, I rushed up here at the earliest possible mont. And just as I expected—he was sleeping like a corpse."
"Then why didn't Morishita-san notify to co along with her?"
At this mont, Yamamura's oppressive pressure was absolutely maxed out. Her soft, gentle voice was saturated with a thick, dense aura of death.
"From seven-forty, I was downstairs waiting for you two. But what I waited for... was the heartless silhouette of Morishita-san spinning around and dashing back upstairs at eight twenty-one..."
A whisper like a death-storm swept over the two of them.
Morishita, two tender pink pinch marks now imprinted on her cheeks, jolted violently and murmured in a daze, "The Old Man of the Mountain has co to toll the bell... I just knew Yamamura Miki had to have the bloodline of the Assassins."
"Naturally." Fuyuji, a fellow esper, was equally stunned and awed. His eyes wide with shock, he chid in. "After all, they both share the 'Yama' in their nas..."
"You two..." Yamamura's small fists clenched tight.
"Sumimasen!!"
The two lowered their heads in a bow simultaneously and shouted their apology in perfect unison. A youthful yet utterly asinine atmosphere spread through the corridor.
...
Inside Fuyuji's room, the air conditioner louvers still swayed leisurely.
The hierarchy of the usual trio had been completely upended. The normally shy and timid Yamamura sat on the bed in a huff, her small fists balled tightly on her knees, her little face puffed up like a steaming, snow-white stead bun.
The domineering, unreasonable Morishita and the absurd, unreliable Fuyuji knelt in perfectly proper seiza before Yamamura, side by side.
The two hung their heads sheepishly, at an utter loss for what to say.
Behind Yamamura, where she couldn't see, Morishita stealthily stretched out a small foot clad in black stockings and kicked it squarely against Fuyuji's rear.
Fuyuji, refusing to be outdone, planted his bare foot right back onto Morishita's little bottom.
And then the two feet began brawling behind their backs. The intentions of both were crystal clear.
You first...
No, you first...
You're the one who was late the longest!
You're the one who made Yamamura mad first!
In the end, Fuyuji, who bore the clearly greater share of the bla, was the one to concede defeat.
"Today, I deeply reflect upon having forgotten my agreent with Yamamura-san and Morishita Ai to go to the library together." Fuyuji was the first to speak.
"I reflect upon having overslept and failed to send a ssage notifying Yamamura Miki." Morishita followed suit.
"I hereby pledge that, from this day forward, I will absolutely never forget agreents made with Yamamura-san and Morishita Ai. Should I violate this pledge, please refer to the 'Yamamura, Fuyuji, Morishita Group Managent Regulations.'"
"I hereby pledge that, from this day forward, I will absolutely never oversleep again, thereby causing tardiness to the trio's agreents. Should I violate this pledge, please refer to the 'Yamamura, Morishita, Fuyuji Group Managent Regulations.'"
"Oi, can you stop copying my self-criticism word for word? Aren't you usually great at making stuff up? Use your signature skill."
Fuyuji turned his head and stared at Morishita, who was reciting his self-criticism like a script, his face covered in black lines.
"The Morishita household never lies when it cos to apologies. And besides," Morishita averted her head and muttered under her breath, "I've never had to write a self-criticism before..."
"Then Morishita Ai had better learn well from the great Fuyuji on how to apologize."
"However!"
Morishita quickly rallied her spirits and declared with righteous confidence. "Morishita Ai's fault accounts for only one percent. The remaining ninety-nine percent is entirely Fuyuji Mikage's fault!"
"Ha?"
Fuyuji caught up and imdiately counterattacked. "Judging solely by how long we were late, there's basically no difference between us, is there?!"
"If I hadn't co to call you, you would have slept all the way until the afternoon!"
"If you hadn't co, Yamamura would have co to call too! And sleeping until the afternoon... do you think I'm practicing the Sleeping Arhat Fist or sothing?"
...
The familiar sound of bickering rang out beside Yamamura's ears.
Honestly, these two... such utterly silly and childish people...
On an early Sunday morning, a ti that ought to be spent on more aningful pursuits, yet, all because of so minor hiccups, their original plans had been delayed. And in the end, they were busy shoving bla and shirking responsibility onto each other.
All she could do was keep the two of them company and while away this tedious stretch of ti.
The air conditioner's breeze blew with a gentle hum. A cody variety show featuring so gag entertainer played on the television. Hot water tumbled and rolled ceaselessly inside the electric kettle. Sunlight slanted into the room, illuminating two indignant faces. The two feet entangled together behind them were, in truth, perfectly obvious at a single glance.
But...
Tis like these... there would always be soone who felt... if only they could slow down, just a little...
Yamamura slowly rose to her feet. She took out both of their breakfasts from her bag and walked over behind the two still-muttering pair. Slipping between them, she knelt down in seiza as well. The three of them sat in a neat, orderly row, side by side.
"Alright, alright. Eat your breakfast first before you keep fighting..."
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