The temperature dropped ten degrees. I didn't realize just how far my mouth had plummeted until a torrent of whispers barraged the room.

"Miss Hanai's song?"

"He stole it?"

Igarashi, the one most flabbergasted, sputtered for words. "Wh-what—"

"I understand the jealousy. Countless others have wronged me as a result of my success. But, stealing my song—the one I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into to attain my lifelong dream—is unforgivable," Upperclassman Hanai continued, softly—as in on the verge of break. "We've known each other a while, and I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. So, please, Iga. Let's wish each others' endeavours well like civil adults, and return my newest song without causing further problems."

She recited the words. The tears that swelled in her eyelids were near genuine. Even the hand she outstretched trembled.

The angry whispers that pervaded the room cracked my heart the same.

"This bastard stole Miss Hanai's song?"

"He had the balls to almost ruin her chance at that award. . . and walk in here like nothing happened?"

"Miss Hanai's going so far as to act as the bigger person even though she must be shattered! What kind of ass do you have to be to wrong someone as benevolent as her!?"

Whispers turned into shouts. Shouts turned into a flurry of rage. Igarashi was left at the mercy of the an angry mob, all the while a sniffling Miss Hanai was ushered off to the safety of the room.

This entire mob—situation—almost made me doubt Igarashi's integrity entirely. Everything he told me—I was so close to write them off as insincere and demand why he lied about composing music, and went so far as to steal Upperclassman Hanai's songs.

But I knew Igarashi. He'd never do anything like this.

Goosebumps zapped across my skin.

She knew.

Even before we got here, she knew Igarashi would turn down writing her a song, leaving her empty-handed for the Music Festival. She knew she'd get exposed for the liar she was, and have all these people—all her fans—turn their backs on her.

That's why she craftily pinned the blame on him. By saying he stole her song, he'd be forced to give it to her. Her 'fans' would never know the truth. And she'd secure that award.

The rage that consumed me was second compared to Koshiba.

"That bitch!"

I was calling her a lot worse in my mind, but Koshiba's curse summed the gist of it.

"Bastard! Give Miss Hanai her song back!" a loyal subordinate shouted, seizing Igarashi's collar.

"She worked so hard! You have no right to ridicule her efforts!"

Igarashi squirmed for freedom. "Wait! Hold on, dammit! I didn't steal anythi—"

Others jammed their hands into his pockets.

"Found it!"

They surfaced the music sheets Igarashi had been working on in the forest today. Scanning them over with their eyes, a select group girls grinned and handed them to her.

"This is it, right, Miss Hanai?"

Upperclassman Hanai broke from her snivelling fest to address it. Rubbing at her eyes, she bobbed her head and received it. "Th-thank you, everyone. I don't deserve your support."

"Of course you do, Miss Hanai," a girl cried. "You deserve it all! Next time something like this happens, rely on us! We've got your backs!"

Others chorused in agreement. Most insulted Igarashi. Calling him a fake. A nobody. Somebody without talent. Someone who'd never reach Upperclassman Hanai's level—win what she would—for as long as he lived.

"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."

My lower lip almost drew blood due to how hard I bit it.

Angel, my ass. Worthy of admiration, my butt.

I'd never seen anyone so rotten.

She had them completely duped. The songs they loved. The talent they admired. It was his. Yet they were obliviously ridiculing him, unknowing of the true colours of the idol they admired.

Igarashi trusted her. Without ever asking for credit, he worked to the bone, giving her so much. The reason that award was even in her grasp—it was because of him. And this was her answer. This was how she repaid him.

I didn't even want to imagine how crushed he must've felt.

"Upperclassman Hanai!"

I'd plunged past the fuming crowd until I was towering over that aggravating being.

She gandered up at me in surprise, ridding the last of her faux tears. "A. . . fan?" she softly asked. "Maybe. . . not. By chance, are you with Iga?"

The smile she adorned next sickened me to the core. It had 'you-can't-touch-me' written all over it.

Proof to that, I was seized by the arms.

Whatever her fans screamed at me, I didn't process them. I'd tuned them out, very well consumed in my own irritation.

"Take the damn song! Sing it with your voice and beautiful face! But I swear to God, Motoko Hanai, you will never win the favour of the judges and get that award!"

My decibel was ear-shattering, bringing the room to a skin-crawling quiet.

Upperclassman Hanai merely gazed at me with a mix of pity and amusement. "And you're saying you will?"

"I'll wipe the floor with your ass!" I extended my finger to her chest. "And when I do, you're getting on your hands and knees and apologizing to Igarashi in front of the entire school!"

Without giving her the chance to retort, I shook free from her subordinates' hold, clasped Igarashi's collar, and dragged him out of the room.

I slammed the door behind us.

"O-ow! Ow! Let go of me, woman!" Igarashi thrashed for liberation.

I granted it.

"Toru!" Koshiba cried, dashing to his side. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He swatted her nosy hands away, then adjusted his collar and unkempt hair. "Jeez, Kisaragi. Did you have to drag me off like that—"

I didn't allow him the leisure to finish. "Do you got another song to spare?"

He blinked once, twice. Left alone in the corridor, the quiet was painstaking.

"Just half-finished ones," he finally said.

"Get one done by tomorrow," I ordered. Fists clenched, fire blazing behind my eyes, I continued, "We're performing it for the Music Festival."

Stupefied, he could only gape.

"You, sing one of Toru's songs?" Koshiba snapped first. "Are you hearing yourself?"

"I have some experience," I excused, setting my palms by my side. I wasn't the Rin Mizota's childhood friend for nothing. "I can also play guitar, but we're gonna need proper members to use instruments while I sing. Igarashi, what do you play?"

"H-hold on, Kisaragi!" Clearly at a loss—gears spinning to make sense of this all—he clasped his head. "I. . . I appreciate you getting angry on my behalf, but this is Upperclassman Hanai! Now that she has my song, there's no way she'll—"

"She's going to lose!" I declared, matter-of-factly, leaving him shell-shocked. "With that song she conned off you. Those songs she used to reach this point, without giving you any credit. She's going to sing them with that voice and face and lose pathetically to the people she least expects to! I'll be damned if that two-faced bitch isn't bowing and apologizing to you by the end of that night!"

"Kisaragi. . ."

"She can look down on me all she wants. This entire school can ridicule me every day for the rest of my life for all I care. But I'm not letting them insult you! Not when they don't know the truth!" I extended my fist, smirking from ear to ear. "Let's do it, Igarashi. Let's shove that princess off her high horse once and for all."

He emitted a bolstering sigh as he ran his fingers through his hair, spilling his bangs across his forehead. "You really are something else, Kisaragi."

"And?"

Grinning, he connected our fists. "Obviously my answer's yes."

"Considering how angry I was at you for your previous misgivings towards Toru, this is rather disappointing," Koshiba stated, sourly eyeing our interaction.

I stiffened.

"Now I have no choice but to pardon them," she continued. "At least, for now. You're lucky Toru means that much to me, beanstalk."

Cold swear dribbled down my forehead.

I guess I was lucky. I'd done a lot today that Koshiba would've slaughtered me for on a good day.

Nevertheless, I had no time to dwell upon them.

The Music Festival was tomorrow, and we had to come prepared to win the award that Igarashi rightfully deserved.

Failure wasn't an option. But boy were we in a load of trouble.