“This might
sound like a strange request, but apart from club hours I want you
two to work part time at Stockholm Haven café.”
It was definitely
a strange request, but one Yukio could understand.
“Anything
more?” he asked.
“Yes, after
work you're to walk Takeida-san home, call me and go home yourself.”
Yukio wondered
how many students had their principal's number in their contact list.
“Understood Nakagawa-sensei,” he said. He would do as told. Kyoko
had already been attacked once, and the way their school had upped
the ante he didn't want to risk a repeat.
“Nakagawa-sensei?”
“Yes
Takeida-san?”
“What about
Yukio, eh, Matsumoto-san?”
Yukio felt his
shoulders rise at Kyoko's unfamiliar use of his surname. She hadn't
for months now.
Principal
Nakagawa rested his elbows on his desk. He looked at Kyoko and
scratched his chin. Then he caught Yukio's eyes with his own before
Yukio had a chance to protest. “That's a relevant question. I'm
afraid we'll have to chance Matsumoto-san walking home alone.”
“Not good
enough,” Kyoko protested.
Nakagawa-sensei
grimaced, but in the end he nodded at her. “Do you have bikes?”
Yukio didn't, but
his mother had one he could borrow. “Yes,” he said.
“Takeida-san?”
Kyoko grimaced
before she answered. “I'm not allowed to use one. It's not… it's
not proper for a young woman.”
From the corner
of his eye Yukio saw Nakagawa-sensei shoot Kyoko an equally stunned
look of incomprehension.
“Not proper?”
Principal Nakagawa finally asked.
Kyoko blushed
slightly. “My father says it's unbecoming of a woman.”
What the hell?
Did he time-slip from the Meiji era?
“Ah, I take it
you don't have a bike then,” Nakagawa-sensei said and avoided the
question that should have been asked.
With a frown
Yukio watched Kyoko shake her head. Well, the bastard almost left
me lying on the street after I got beat up. Some people shouldn't be
allowed to have children. Then Yukio regretted that thought. If
some people weren't, then his lovely Kyoko wouldn't be by his side
now.
“Matsumoto-san,
could you walk Takeida-san home and ride back to your home
afterwards?”
The question made
sense. He was much less likely to get into trouble if he biked home.
“Yes. Yes, I'll do so.”
“Well, that
settles it. You're dismissed.” With those words Nakagawa-sensei
rose from his chair.
The meeting was
over and Yukio bowed quickly before he grabbed Kyoko who had done
likewise and hurried out of the office.
Guess we could
as well make some cash from James, he thought when they trotted
away in the direction of their club room. Could as well grab some
stuff from there and carry it to the café. We're moving before we're
forced to anyway.
Because they
were. Any day now Noriko's mother would show up with a pick-up and
help them move furniture from the club room to Stockholm Haven café.
The inner room would be cramped, but in all honesty the main area was
better suited for lounging purposes. The inner room was superior as a
workspace though.
We'll be the
only club with our club room accessible for another school. Two other
schools, Yukio added mentally. But we're planning to make that
one other school.
“Yukio, slow
down! You're hurting me!”
Yukio broke his
stride and came to a stand still. “Sorry,” he said. Then he saw
how red Kyoko's wrist had become. “Crap, I'm really sorry. Please
forgive me!”
She massaged her
arm and gave him a glare. “Don't worry. You just can't drag me
along like that without telling me where we're going.”
You knew we
were headed for our room, but you just don't like being dragged along
without my asking. He had some reflection to do. She was his
girlfriend, not his property, and if he didn't behave properly he'd
lose her and deserve it.
“I was thinking
we should move one of the boilers and some of the tablets for
tonight,” Yukio said in an attempt to change the topic.
Kyoko gave him a
relieved smile and nodded.
“You know,”
she said as they slid open the door, “I think getting to know
Irishima high students is a god thing, but what about Red Rose?”
Yukio rummaged
through the shelves and bagged half a dozen tablets while Kyoko went
for the lounge area and one of the three water boilers in the room.
He knew they had until it was time to leave before he needed to come
up with an answer.
“I try not to
think about it,” he said in the end. “To be honest I'm more
worried about the new members from the transfer batch. They saw Red
Rose Hell first hand for an entire term before transferring here.”
Kyoko left the
room and Yukio closed the door behind them. There were quite a few
students at school, but during club hours they usually didn't loiter
in the corridors and thus it looked a lot more deserted than it was.
“They haven't
complained about the move,” Yukio continued when it was clear Kyoko
expected some kind of explanation monologue. “There are so many of
us there I think they feel safe.”
“Idiot!” came
the unexpected reaction.
“Kyoko?”
“Just about
everyone at Himekaizen was present when they maimed Urufu. Why should
the transfer students from Red Rose feel safe at the café?
He mulled over
the question while they descended the stairs. Because we're aware
of the danger now? he thought. Because those who attacked
Urufu all were hospitalised as well? But that wasn't the reason,
or a least that shouldn't be the reason. We can't make people feel
safe based on having the other side more scared than us.
“I don't know,”
Yukio said when they got outside. He looked at the darkening skies
and pulled his coat closer. “It's just a feeling. I think it's a
good thing there are students from three schools at the café. I
think having the war out in the open somehow makes it less scary.”
“Are you
telling me the truth?”
He looked at
Kyoko and hugged her closer to him. Not entirely, he admitted
to himself. “Maybe I just can't be that scared when I'm with you,”
he said, and that was probably the truth in as much as there was
something you could call truth. It didn't help those from Red Rose,
but it did help him, and that was enough for now.
He could only be
Urufu's wingman and Kyoko's hero, and he guessed it was the same for
her. Neither he nor the woman he loved could protect more than two
important ones. That was the depressing reality when you listened to
the tunes of the wingman blues.
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