"Idiot!"

Any and all passersby halted in their tracks and gaped as I sprinted like my life depended on it. The blurring scenery behind my eyelids zeroed in on the individual ambling toward the school entrance.

Wasting no opportunity, and putting my long legs to use, I slide-tackled him. His legs hit my shoes, and he nosedived into the dirt.

"I'm killing you! Whoever did that, you're dead meat!"

Snarling, he leapt to his feet. I was up thereafter, brimming equal rage.

"Come at me then, midget!"

Anger at an all time high, nearby students gaping, and fists clenched, it was luck alone neither one of us jumped the other.

But, as if my hair had been yanked, my senses rushed back to me. I slapped my forehead.

"Dammit, I'm not here to fight!"

"If you're not here to fight, why the hell did you tackle me?"

"Because I want to slug you! Badly!" I remarked. "What the hell are you thinking, giving Upperclassman Hanai your songs!"

That quelled his frustration in an instant. He gawked at me like he couldn't believe the words that came out of my mouth. Then, snapping his head left and right at listening ears, he yanked my wrist.

I was being dragged off before I realized what was going on.

When we arrived at a secluded portion of the school, he shoved my hand free. His following glower was the darkest I'd ever known.

"Who told you that?"

Momentarily discouraged, I sputtered for words. "Koshiba."

I expected an earful. About how I was being nosy, to forget it. Instead, he heaved a loud breath, threading his fingers through his hair and tossing strands over his eyes. "I left you for like, three minutes. Where did Keiko show up from? And why was she running her mouth?"

I was given reassurance. "So it's true?"

He didn't answer.

"She's getting an award for those songs, right?" I prodded. "Everyone thinks she's the writer of them. And you're just going to stand by and let her steal credit—"

"Of course not. I gave those songs to her. Have been for two years. I promised to write them on the condition she sing them."

"Then why is she getting all the credit?" I had to ask. "You should be getting that award!"

"I don't do it professionally so I don't need that," he said, this time with a scowl. "Besides, what's the point of writing songs if nobody can sing it?"

"You—"

"We went to karaoke together. You already know how tone-deaf I am."

My voice lodged in my throat. I faltered.

"Even so. . ."

"It's fine," he said. "Writing music has been a hobby of mine since I was little but it's not like I've ever imagined I'd get far. So it's perfectly all right with me. I want Upperclassman Hanai to sing them. With that new song I'm going to give her for the Music Festival, if she does make it and win an award, I'll be. . . happy—"

My knuckles connected with skin. His cheek.

He yelped, floundering for his footing and grappling his face. "That hurt!"

"I don't care!" Without allowing him a fraction of a second, I seized and dangled him by the collar, glaring daggers at him. "Even if you're satisfied with this, I'm not! You worked your butt off for her and she's soaking up all this attention just because she has a great voice and a pretty face?"

His eyes were wide. "I—"

"Plus this has been going on for two years? Don't give me that "I want this" bullshit! If that bitch doesn't at least give the credit you deserve, I'm gonna punch her fuckin' face in until she does!"

His countenance was morphed in complete shock. For once, he was speechless. "Kisaragi, a girl shouldn't be using that kind of language. . ."

"I'll call a bitch for what she is! Ugh, I'm irritated! Do you get it, dumbass?"

He gritted his teeth. "Stop calling me a dumbass! I get it!"

"Do you really? If not, I can give you another punch?"

"I said I get it already so let me down!"

His smouldering gaze made me concede. I unhanded him. Once on the ground, he adjusted his collar, grumbling profanities under his breath.

I was exposed, once again, to our considerable height difference.

"You really are short."

"Cram it, beanstalk!" Huffing, he flipped the bird at me and cradled the spot. "Always getting into my head like this. . . Why do you care so much about what happens to me anyway?"

I was stepping way out of line—I knew that painfully well. After hearing Koshiba's words, why had I run after, tackled, and punched him? Whatever happened between Upperclassman Hanai and him was none of my business. In the first place, I didn't know the full story.

But, that day he dragged me from the pits of my despair and into the blinding light. . . Time and time again, without directly asking any of my circumstances, he. . .

"'Cause I can care!" I yelled at him, tears stinging the corners of my eyelids. "Got a problem with that?"

Once the dam restricting my waterworks had broken, they flowed down my face in a torrential swell. I'd stunned him beyond compare—his bug-eyes and slacked-jaw spoke volumes. Snuffling, I dropped into a crouch, incessantly rubbing at my face.

"I can't help but care," I mumbled, pathetically. "I hate you. We always argue. You have the worst personality. And you never fail to insult me. But—but. . . You're also so nice. You like my favourite band. And mangas. And food. You get me like nobody else. I-I'm not an idiot, either. I can see this entire thing has been bothering you. Th-that's why I don't want you to regret it."

"Kisaragi. C'mon. Don't cry. . ."

His plea to quiet my sobbing proved futile.

"If you're g-going to be making those kinds of expressions, there's no way you'll be h-happy when she finally wins that award at your expense. You haven't been h-happy giving her credit this entire t-time, right? S-so don't let her take it."

A hand ruffled the top of my head. Big and warm. Uncharacteristic of his small body, but enough to warm my heart all the same.

I felt so pathetic. So useless. When I was at my lowest, this jerk could make me smile and laugh so easily. He noticed the flaws I needlessly dwelled upon, and assured me I had so much more to me.

Yet, when he was hurting about something, I didn't catch on to a thing. Complimented Upperclassman Hanai in front of him too. Even now all I could do was aggressively batter him and shove my frustrations onto him.

"You seriously are a mess."

I peeked through a crevice between my arms and knees. It was to the least of my expectations to find his face so near. He'd squatted in front of me, and playing on his lips was a cheek-splitting grin.

"It may be too late to get the credit I'm owed from my previous songs, but I'll at least tell her the song for the Music Festival is off. I'll tell her, all right? So stop bawling."

It was like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. My embarrassment was tangible and the warmth that seized my skin emulated a scorching fire. So much so that I swiftly buried my face into my knees for the second time.

"I-I'm not bawling."

"Not a very convincing argument with that many tears staining your cheeks."

"I got d-dust in my eyes."

"That much? Sure you don't need to go see the nurse, then?" He chuckled. "Just for today, I'll turn a blind eye to the pain you've inflicted and say thanks for worrying about me. You're one of a kind, Kisaragi. Really."

"In my opinion, she's a one of a kind idiot."

My lungs collapsed on me for the second time. It wasn't Igarashi. Rather. . .

"Keiko?" Igarashi shouted it first, fumbling as far back from me as he could.

Even I'd scrambled to clear my face of tears.

Keiko Koshiba who'd hovered above us, jumped Igarashi into a hug.

"Toru, Keiko's worried too!" she whined, burying her cheek into his shoulder. "So, so worried that I had no choice but to rely on a grazing giraffe."

Oi.

"I get it," Igarashi complained, patting her shoulder to relent her waterworks. "Upperclassman Hanai isn't as evil as you guys think she is. I'm sure if I talk to her, she'll forget all about using my song."

Koshiba's eyes filled with stars. She retreated in an instant. "Then, let's go! Right now!"

Without waiting for him to change his mind, Koshiba yanked him to his feet. Swinging an arm through his, she rested her ear against his shoulder. Amidst their pursuit forward, she discreetly looked back and ran her thumb across her neck, symbolizing my impeding death if I stuck around Igarashi any longer.

I hopped onto my feet, complexion blanch. Igarashi seriously had no clue. . . how psychotic this girl truly was. He'd only been exposed to her superficial possession.

Despite knowing my inevitable doom was avoidable, I was stupid enough to dog them anyway. I took the open space to Igarashi's right.

Guilt straightaway knotted my stomach. "You sure you're okay?"

He hitched his chin. "It doesn't hurt enough to leave a bruise. You're lucky I have a big heart, moron."

"I'm forever grateful, Your Highness Igarashi. Please allow this pitiful peasant to make it up to you."

"Hmm. Mt. Foodji after school. Your treat."

Obviously he wanted food.

Regardless, I smiled, and ignoring the death signals Koshiba was shooting me in the blindsight of Igarashi, nodded. "Deal."

Upperclassman Motoko Hanai was prettier than I remembered.

It was a beauty that transcended the goddesses themselves, and attracted others to her like moths to a flame. Seated like a queen in the Class 3–A room, girls and boys bowed to her feet, offering her drinks and fruits. One was even fanning her with a traditional Japanese fan. Freshly changed into her uniform, Upperclassman Hanai relished in the cool breeze as she nonchalantly chewed at the glistening fruit provided.

Suddenly, I was too nervous to enter.

Koshiba was even fighting off the chills. "If that woman so dares insults my Toru. . ."

Igarashi, nonetheless, sauntered right on inside without a care. He was straightaway stopped by a line of glaring girls.

"What do you think you're doing?" one spat.

"If you're here to see Miss Hanai, take a hike, pipsqueak."

"She has a fan club?" I demanded in disbelief, poking my head over the side of the room.

Why wouldn't she? my mind fired. Girl even had dedicated slaves at her beck and call.

Despite feeling the piercing tension at my length from the scene, Igarashi paid these subordinates one blink then lifted his gaze. "Upperclassman Hanai."

The girl in question lifted her eyebrows to address him. "Iga. I've been meaning to speak with you." Her smooth as silk voice carried the distance. Ascending to her feet, she ambled forward, through the throngs of puzzled subordinates and up to him. Albeit a couple inches shorter than him, her demeanour, and snide side-eye, spoke volumes. She stared down at him as if he were an ant. "Return my song."

The silence that brewed was unbelievably smothering.

Igarashi's eyebrows rose.

". . .Huh?"

"My song for the Music Festival that you stole. Give it back."