Chapter two (segment two), 2016, October, Kyoko

Leaving Yukio like that made her unhappy, but after a second serving of Kuri-chan's dark stare Kyoko didn't dare anything more than returning his wave before she sneaked inside the locker room.

“Ko-chan, where did you go yesterday evening?” Kuri-chan's voice was all sugary and Kyoko didn't believe one iota of it.

Kyoko sat down on a bench and rested her back against a locker door. Slowly she began to undress. A new pair of stockings and panties wouldn't hurt, and that shower looked more and more like a splendid idea now when she had dragged her tired body here.

“Ko-chan?”

“Shower first, chit chat later.” Kyoko answered. She was surprised how irritated her own voice sounded. It did the job though, and with a towel over her shoulder she went for the closest shower stand. Kuri-chan stayed silent.

While a morning shower at school just couldn't compare to home Kyoko still enjoyed it. Stiff limbs softened and she purred with satisfaction at the luxury of shampoo in her hair.

One of her peculiarities she guessed, but she just couldn't help it. Lathing herself with shampoo had always been a time of bliss for her. Maybe because she could pretend to be both blind and deaf without her parents yelling at her for it.

This time it was Kuri-chan who couldn't yell at her, because that was what was waiting, even though Kyoko really couldn't understand why she was going to be yelled at.

Dragging out the shower turned out to be possible for so long and no more, and reluctantly Kyoko turned the shower off and towelled herself down.

In the early morning hours the locker room quickly cooled down despite a cloud of steam promising lingering heat, and she soon found herself putting on her clothes scrutinised by Kuri-chan.

“Where were you last night?” Kuri-chan asked when Kyoko had donned panties and bra and were zipping up her skirt.

Kyoko waited until she started buttoning up her blouse before answering. “Rooftop,” she admitted, “with Yukio.” Because that was the real question, wasn't it?

Kuri-chan stayed silent, dug through her school bag and handed over a few plastic packages. “It's time you started thinking about these,” she said. “I hope it's not too late.”

Kyoko blushed red. She felt the rubbery contents through the plastic cover. “We didn't.” She met Kuri-chan's gaze. “We didn't do it.”

Her friend let out a long sigh. Of anger or relief Kyoko didn't know. Then she felt the hands of her friend on her shoulders.

“Be more careful next time. He's a guy, with the needs of a guy. Sooner or later you'll share your bodies with each other, or you'll break up.”

Break up? Does he hate me?

Those blue eyes met hers. “He's interested, but he'll respect you for some time more, but eventually those needs will become too great.” Kuri-chan took a deep breath before she continued. “Maybe your needs will be stronger than his, but sooner or later you'll have to trust each other enough. OK?”

Fear still dominated her thoughts. “Do you think he dislikes me now?” Kyoko finally asked when she was done pulling her stockings to her knees.

The look she got in return was one of utter contempt. “Do you really see Ulf's best friend as that shallow?” For a moment anger flared to life in Kuri-chan's eyes. “Do you think the man I love would chose his friends so easily?”

It was a scary Kuri-chan, one who reminded her of the chasm that had grown between them since the time they made their differences clear about which methods were acceptable when it came to handle bullying. It was also a more guarded Kuri-chan than Kyoko had ever seen before, one who showed a desperate need to protect her Urufu even from a friend.

“I'm sorry,” Kyoko said. What else could she say.

“Love hurts, you know.”

Kyoko looked at her friend. Did it? The last months ran through her head. Worry, embarrassment, a little anger and a lot of joy and excitement. “No, I disagree. I never felt hurt.”

The door opened and a few students from 6:1 arrived inside. From the looks of them they were about to make the final preparations before the play.

“Funny you should say that. I said the same all those years ago.” Kuri-chan laughed silently to herself and sat straight up leaning her back and head against the locker door. “Maybe a first love doesn't hurt.”

She wore the face of an angel with eyes staring at the ceiling and through it. Kuri-chan was worlds away. Kyoko saw it in her eyes, had seen the expression of what she once took for homesickness many times before.

“Have you been in love before? Before Urufu I mean?”

“Mmm,” came the answer. It wasn't for her benefit. Kyoko guessed her friend spoke with her own memories right now. “Twice.”

“You said it didn't hurt, your first love.”

Kuri-chan smiled, but she never moved her head. Her blue eyes still stared at a landscape of years gone past. “No, not me. I hurt him though. Fourteen, I was fourteen.” Then she returned to the here and now and caught Kyoko's gaze. “An ugly kid with long legs. I think you remember.”

Ah, yes, she looked the same the first time I guess. “Why would that hurt him?”

A grimace played over Kuri-chan's features. “He wasn't very good looking. Strong and fast and very good at football, and he adored me, and I him.”

Kyoko waited for her friend to continue. In the background she heard the other girls giggle as they tried out clothes for the play.

“He was shorter than me. And when I grew beautiful and started modelling he got scared,” Kuri-chan said. “It took years for me to feel confident with my looks though. Always running to photo shoots, always cancelling with him whenever an opportunity opened.” She sighed and stroked her face with both hands. “I had him waiting for me, but I never waited for him. In the end I never gave him a chance to follow me. I hurt him.”

“How?” Kyoko asked when she understood that Kuri-chan was finished.

“I always believed he broke up with me, but in reality I forced him to. I enjoyed being surrounded by beautiful boys too much, and I always thought he'd be there for me anyway.” Her hands slid down from her hair to cover her face. “Damn, that's embarrassing to realise so many years later. And I never apologised to him.”

Kyoko didn't understand those thoughts. Yukio was Yukio through and through. She'd wait for him and she'd ask him to wait for her. Wherein lay the difficulty in that?

“You'll understand one day,” Kuri-chan said as if she had read her thoughts. “Anyway, I'll give you this one. A first love doesn't have to hurt.”

That piqued her interest. “But the second one?”

Kuri-chan grinned and laughed. “Oh that hurt for sure. I was twenty. He cheated on me on a grand scale.” She smiled at Kyoko who only saw sparkling joy in those eyes. “Five on the side, or more likely all six of us girls were his playthings. I've never felt so humiliated in my life.”

She had heard that story before. Never so heartfelt though. “And you never fell in love after that?”

A bubbling laughter was the first answer. “No, not until I met Ulf. I promised myself never to fall in love again, but he made me break that promise.” Once again those eyes strayed elsewhere, but this time they weren't looking into another world.

It was time to change the topic. “Why did you want me here?”

The question had Kuri-chan return to reality. “To give you this.” She dug into her school bag and offered Kyoko a small metal case. “It's a portable make-up set.”

Kyoko turned the box over and opened it. “Yes?”

“You can pull that lever.”

She obeyed and stared as the bottom came away. “Yes?” she asked again.

“You have parents. Parent's never respect the privacy of a teenager in love. That's a false bottom with enough space to hide two of those.”

It took a while for Kyoko to grasp what Kuri-chan meant, but when she did she blushed from her collarbones all the way to her hair.

“This isn't a suggestion. In this case you'll do exactly as told. Get it?” Kuri-chan took both her hands in her. “Ulf's having this talk with Yukio as well. Don't you even dare to take stupid risks!”

“It's not like we're going to do it any time soon,” Kyoko protested.

Kuri-chan grinned, took the one Kyoko held in her palm and placed another in the adorned metal case before she put the make-up back. “It's not like they go bad in a few days,” she said and pulled Kyoko to her feet.

Chapter two (segment one), 2016, October, Yukio

When morning rose over the Himekaizen cultural festival so did Yukio. He rose to the smell of too many teenagers sleeping in a classroom, the sound of snoring and the heat of Kyoko sleeping in his arms.

Shafts of sunbeams ripped through the curtains and bathed the floor in an eerie red. Drowsy with sleep he realised how the sudden dawn light had forced him awake.

There were sounds from the office area, sounds of someone sleeping over the benches and someone working. Rhythmic clattering of laptop keys sang a well known melody – only Urufu abused a keyboard that way.

Yukio leaned on his elbows, torn between the want to help his friend and the need to feel Kyoko close to him. In the end Kyoko won and he laid himself to rest on her arm again.

Nuzzling his head closer to her face he drank the smell of her hair and listened to her breathing. Ever so gently her calmness rocked him to sleep again.

When he woke again soothing dawn had given way to bedlam. Of his gentle Kyoko there was not a trace. She sat shamelessly astride him, all sense of propriety gone, daring any shocked onlookers to protest. Looking up at her he watched the most beautiful woman in his life glaring at students whispering and pointing at them.

His ears hurt, mostly because she tugged at them with both hands, and so did his balls.

Balls? Crap, Kyoko you can't sit there!

She didn't just sit but merrily bounced up and down. Yukio sincerely hoped she was oblivious to what it looked like. Even more he wanted her to get off him, because those parts were exactly as sensitive as his recollection of the last time he made a spectacular save as goalkeeper in a game of soccer.

Then a loud cough called for his attention, and Kyoko had the good graces to cease bouncing.

Behind her back four chairs lined up with their four best friends straddling them leaning their arms on the backrests. Noriko scowling, Urufu smirking, Kuri rolling her eyes and Ryu grinning wildly.

“Love birds, get a room or get real,” Urufu said in English.

Atop of him Kyoko gasped and turned.

“Rehearsing the racier parts of the play?” Kuri asked in the same language. “Want to continue on stage?” She frowned and dug into her school bag searching for something. After a while her frown made way for a satisfied smile.

A camera? Yukio wondered in panic, and Kyoko must have felt the same, because she rolled beside him and covered herself with the blanket they had shared the previous night.

“The four of us need to have a talk,” Urufu said. It sounded as the start of a sentence, but he was interrupted by Kuri.

“You insensitive moron!” She threw him an angry glare. “Ko-chan and I are going to have some girl talk.” And that sounded more like an order than a suggestion. “You are going to dress down that oversexed friend of yours.” A long finger protruded from her hand and stabbed at Yukio through the distance, but Yukio knew the words were directed at Urufu.

Still, oversexed, me? I was asleep for most of it, so why is it my fault?

Urufu just grinned and tapped Ryu on his shoulder. He had to reach behind Kuri to do so.

What once began as an open display of friendly rivalry from the Wakayama twins was an established habit by now despite Noriko's dating Nao-sempai. Urufu had her by his other side, so the Swedish couple were sandwiched in the middle as always.

Yukio had a hard time imagining them side by side in any other order than Noriko, Urufu, Kuri and Ryu. Usually he and Kyoko trailed a few steps behind whenever the six of them went out together.

“Ryu can you get the patrols and play started? I really need to talk with the moron on the futon,” Urufu said.

Ryu nodded in return and headed for the office area. His chair screeched on the floor as he dragged it behind him. The noise was enough to silence the whispers around them that hadn't subsided until now.

“Noriko, get the food market going. I'll help you after I've knocked some sense into his head,” Urufu said and pointed a thumb at Yukio. “Yukio, boys' locker room. Now!”

With the last words Urufu rose from his chair and left the room.

Before Yukio even had the chance to protest Kuri had already pulled Kyoko to her feet. She did protest, but a shockingly well articulated sentence in Japanese from Kuri silenced her.

“Ko-chan, you absolutely must shower and change your underwear, wouldn't you agree?”

Kyoko barely had time to get her bag, and Yukio used that as a signal to rip open his backpack and pull out one pouch with toiletry and another with fresh underwear. After that he hurried after the girls on their way to the locker room.

When he passed the office area he saw Ryu handing Noriko an old style walkie talkie which she clipped onto a belt. By the windows a dozen more stood recharging.

His footsteps on the stairs down to the first floor were unusually loud but neither corridors nor stairwell were any less crowded than a usual school day. Yukio attributed the sound of his footsteps to a guilty conscience.

They passed the vending machines and then he waved to Kyoko before she vanished into the girls locker room. On the other side of the cafeteria Urufu stood waiting by the door to the boys'. He rolled one of the security armbands over a sleeve and opened the door.

“Security patrol. Anyone not showering evacuate now!” After delivering that lie Urufu beckoned for Yukio to follow him inside.

Yukio didn't see how he could avoid the inevitable, and in the end he meekly obeyed.

Wattpad and reads

Sometimes I wonder why I even bother. The number of reads I receive on Wattpad is close to zero. But then I remember that it's the place with the best reader interface -- not that a measurable number of people use it as far as my stories are concerned.

The best site in terms of reads for me is Inkspired. All my stories, including the short, get hit more or less every day.

Second to that site is RoyalRoadl with a decent readership.

This blog only comes in at third place.

I've abandoned Jukepop and Inkitt as feeding a zero readership on sites with only average quality reading-tools seems like a total waste of effort.

And then there is Wattpad again. Probably the largest of all publishing sites. It's got a neat community for writers, and as far as I go it seems to be the primary benefit. I can test passages.

But reads...

Midsummer's eve, 2040, midnight

Kyoko snuggled up closer to her husband. She was a little bit drunk, just like him, and grew goose bumps from the unexpected night chill, just like him. She felt them under her fingers as she slid her hand further inside his shirt sleeve.

There was a lot to be said about Swedish midsummer. Accurately placed around summer solstice instead of mid July was one thing and pleasantly lacking everyday rain was another. Gorgeous hours of light Yukio would have added should she ask. It was but an hour since he stopped alternatively looking at his wristwatch and the darkening skies above them.

Summer temperatures, however wasn't one of them. The high school rooftop from her youth had been warmer, if her memories from that night before the cultural festival served her correctly.

No matter whether they did or not they still called colour to her face and she buried her nose deeper in Yukio's chest. She could feel the question in his fingertips as he caressed her hair.

A quarter of a century spent together. Most of those years happy ones and none of them entirely a bad one. The latter ones filled with a calmer joy. The early ones more prone to sudden swings between exhilarating joy, fear and despair.

Like their second year cultural festival she remembered and shuddered.

She hugged Yukio closer and forced her thoughts and memories to their first school festival together. Apart from a few ugly moments it was a bright and joyful memory.

And the slightly embarrassing one from a rooftop shared between them.

Chapter one (segment eleven), 2016, September, Kyoko

Kyoko stared at the bulletin board. Is this a joke?

Signed by the student council the short list for the beauty contest sat neatly nailed to the official slot only the council could use.

During the last days' worth of frantic planning she recalled voting for Kuri, and mostly out of loyalty for Yukio as well. She felt some heat rising to her cheeks. In her world he deserved a spot among the five, but she also preferred having him to herself without any competition.

She read the list of girls again. Kuri-chan first with close to a third of all votes, but that was expected. That she'd end up the winner was a given. After her name Kyoko read a second year unknown to her. Hitomi-chan's name after that wasn't exactly a great surprise, and after their show of strength ending the bullying attempt, neither was Noriko's. The last name, however was a major surprise.

Why the hell am I on that list?

There had to be something wrong and she hoped it would be cleared up soon. As an afterthought she threw a look at the boys' list as well.

Ryu first with over ten percent of all votes and after him, with almost as many, Nao-sempai's name looked down at her. So far no surprises. Urufu at third place would have been an impossibility a few months earlier, but given his rising fame the last weeks Kyoko wasn't really all that surprised to find his name there.

The list petered out with two third years as unfamiliar to her as the second year girl.

I just have to find the joker who put my name on that list tomorrow morning before the real voting starts. But first she needed to join the rest of the club.

An hour of negotiation earlier that evening between headship, student council and the club saw Urufu in charge of patrolling the school grounds in addition to his other chores.

Kyoko remembered watching the first real quarrel between Kuri-chan and Urufu before she left for home to wash and collect some clothes in a bag before returning to school.

Her parents scowled, but the signed slip from Principal Nakagawa was enough to silence their protests, and now she was back in school with the underwear and toiletry needed for two nights on a hard floor.

After making her way up the stairs she walked through the empty corridor and slid open the door to their club room.

What on earth?

The lounge area had given way to a sea of futons, air mats and closed foam pads.

“When did this happen?” she asked into the air.

“Dunno, but I know Hamarugen-san is who happened,” a voice answered. There was a tinge of awe in it.

Kyoko turned in the direction of the voice. A freshman she couldn't remember seeing before sat by a desk in their office area. An enormous freshman with spiky, orange hair, irregular school uniform and an armband in his hands. She wasn't certain but it looked like the kanji for 'security' on it.

“Who are you?” she asked, too perplex to be afraid.

He rose so quickly he almost overturned his chair. Then he gave her the most formal bow she had received in her live. “My name is Goto Daisuke. I apologise for my unseemly appearance Takeida-san.” His choice of words changed to the extreme formal as well.

He's sure got the build for it, Kyoko thought and shot the hulking frame an amused stare. Wait a minute, why does he know my name?

“You're not a club member, so why are you in our club room?” She really wanted to fish for an answer to her earlier question, but she couldn't think of a polite way to do so.

He slowly rose to his full length. “Matsumoto-san told me to lay out the beds.

Kyoko looked at the lounge turned sleeping area and nodded. Urufu placed a few phone calls and this stuff magically appeared here. She shook her head as pieces of a puzzle slowly came to place in her head. One question would confirm her theory.

“You're 9:1?”

“Yes. I'm honoured that Takeida-san knows me,” the giant said and bowed deep again.

Confirmed, but I don't really know you. I only guessed. Kyoko chose not to phrase that in spoken words. There was no point in insulting him. So the rumours about the former Red Rose thugs were true after all. She should have known, but 9:1 had their home room in the left wing and she had little to no reason visiting them during school hours.

Behind her the door slid open and a few club members arrived. They must have come with the same train. Another half an hour and she expected to see the club room alive with its usual club hours chaos even though it was far later than and club hours.

They'd take turns patrolling the school grounds twenty four hours a day until the end of the cultural festival. For most of the club members two nights sleepover at school would be an adventure.

While she understood Urufu irritation at being saddled with yet another responsibility she also trusted him to calm down in the end. To make sure of that she sent Kuri-chan an email ordering her to apologise to her boyfriend and make up with him.

After all Kyoko guessed she was the only one allowed to slap her tall friend around in that manner. She suspected not even Urufu dared doing so, but allowed to or not he was still the one paying with additional work for Kuri-chan's request to get the clothes provided by Uniclo secured. They couldn't afford another sabotage.

When Yukio finally returned from his father's home with a large backpack she only allowed him to dump it in the club room before she led him upstairs by his arm.

Below them almost half of 9:1 had joined the club members for the overnight stay and three pairs with flash lights and radio were already patrolling the school.

Kyoko didn't care. She'd team up with Yukio in two hours, and she didn't plan to sleep until then. Not with the bribe in her pocket. The rooftop key she received from the student council president in return for nudging Kuri-chan to request added security. Kyoko almost felt a bit guilty on Urufu's behalf. Almost, but two blankets in one arm, Yukio in her other and the prospect of two dark hours alone with him quickly brushed away any concerns.

Chapter one (segment ten), 2016, September, Noriko

Noriko ran to her brother and demanded all extra hands he had available. Outside the back entrance a truck stood waiting.

A truckload of clothes, literally. You gotta be kidding me!

She didn't really have time to explain anything, because the truck blocked most of the street.

More than a few faces turned their way when she ran together with her crew past the gym, across the pool area and to the gate no one had found a teacher with a key to.

It was late enough in September for the last remnants of summer to have vanished, and the end of the festival would see them change into their winter uniforms. Right now she was happy they still wore their summer ones as the rush to the truck was sweatier than she had thought.

Of those most concerned with the load none were present. Kuri and Nao-sempai were busy preparing them for the show. Apparently walking the catwalk entailed more than just naturally looking good.

Noriko didn't know. She'd been part of Urufu's fire brigade from the start, and things like the sudden appearance of the truck was exactly what she handled. In all fairness Ryu should have been part of it as well, but as the festival loomed closer the more occupied he became with the fashion show. It was a given that he would participate, but Kuri-chan said you could create a fashion model 101 education based on everything he misunderstood.

Just as she saw the truck her phone signalled an incoming message. Nao-sempai, or maybe just Nao now, she thought. They were dating after all. That thought had her fingering her ear where a dazzling piece of gold and ruby adorned it. The pain from piercing it was all but gone, as were the memories of the verbal bashing she received when she first arrived home with her earrings.

She led half her crew around the gates thinking of the tall junior. Nao, her Nao. It was a cosy feeling. Not the burning longing she once felt for Urufu but rather a sense of safety.

“One bundle at a time,” she shouted. “Above the gates, stack them over there and you four start lugging it to the gym hall!”

It took them a quarter of an hour to offload the truck, and when they were finished a short line of cars with irritated drivers stood waiting for the large vehicle to get moving.

After that they carried the boxes to the gym hall a little like a caravan of ants with their load. Another half an hour gone when they had so little time left, or so she thought when they arrived with the second set of boxes.

'An increment must comply with a definition of done', Urufu said, 'and a definition of done should always result in something practically useful', but Noriko never understood what he meant by that until now.

Inside the gymnasium Kuri already had her models clad in whatever clothes were in the first set of boxes, and Noriko heard her instruct them in how to wear those clothes and how to walk.

When Noriko and her porters arrived with the third set the modelling crew received instructions in new attire. All in all the loss of time could be counted in minutes.

As the stash of boxes by the gates shrunk the hangers in the gym hall filled with clothes tried on, and by the time the last of the clothes were carried inside the models looked as if the had a pretty good idea about how to change between sets in an absurdly short time.

While the exercise served its intended means it also became a show of its own. An audience gathered, both boys and girls, ogling the models as they changed. Noriko heard Kuri shout a choice set of Swedish words to the boys, and there was no need to understand the language to get the message across.

Hitomi-chan looked more embarrassed than beautiful and Noriko understood her perfectly. Changing clothes as a model meant spending a lot of time half naked in front of others, and no matter how much they tried to shield her with blankets some of the boys always managed to sneak a peek or two while she wore nothing but her underwear.

“Kuri, club room,” Noriko suggested when she understood that nothing Kuri shouted would help.

Hitomi-chan gave her a grateful look in return and stared pleadingly at Kuri. When Kuri started to shake her head Noriko grabbed one of her arms and yanked.

“What?”

“Club room. This isn't Sweden. We're not used to having boys stare at us that way.”

“If you want to work as a...”

Noriko didn't allow Kuri to finish that sentence. “This isn't work. It's a school event and Hitomi-chan shouldn't have to go through this.”

Kuri backed down at that. Almost. “But the clothes?”

It made sense. The ones they planned to used from the start lay in the burner after someone shredded them. “I'll assign people to guard duty here, OK?”

Kuri nodded and shortly afterwards Noriko watched her leaving the gym hall together with the models. They carried a box each. Enough to continue training but most of the clothes were still here. Another half an hour later saw all boxes empty and the hangers filled to capacity.

Now the time had come for the more difficult part.

Inkspired funny.

Seems I keep getting an absurd percentage of reads on this site. While a small one its 'popular' section definitely strokes my ego.

Obviously I need to take into account that I receive next to no readers elsewhere.

I'll return with a new chunk from Wingman Blues here soon.