Three-Way

Just under an hour had passed and the new girl was neck deep in her third pile of books. She’d had a quick skim over a few volleyball and sport strategy books until a migraine began to threaten her. Giving herself a break from scowling at the small words without her contact lenses or glasses to aid her, Hanabusa had offered to make a deal with the makeshift librarian: She would do the leg-work of collecting and replacing the books if Sasaki in return gave her a bit of a head’s up about how the place really worked. Because for all intents and purpose, what she had been told by the teacher overseeing her induction was practically nil. She signed her legal documents; been handed a map, class schedule, her exemption pass, and pretty much been sent on her way. She’d been picked on during her morning classes by both students and her teachers, pulled off the hook by who she found to be one of the most sought after boys in school, and then…well, we don’t really need an entire play-by-play, but it was fair enough to say that it was going to be a toss-up of how the day ended.

“Thanks for helping me out, Reika Senpai. It’s really saved me a lot of time - it would usually take me about three days to do this much because of my hobbling.”

“It’s no trouble at all. I prefer to be moving even if my body doesn’t and I was starting to get eye-strain poring over those tiny explanations at the back of the book every time I didn’t understand something,” Hanabusa called from the back row as she collected yet another pile in order to bring them to the front desk so the addressed didn’t have to keep getting up. “Which happened to be every other line…”

The bell rang and in less than a minute and a half, four members of the volleyball team stepped into the stuffy room. Behind them, another second and first year, according to their designated tie colours.

Ginjima scouted the space, his recollection coming out as a remark rather than internal as he had planned. “Ouah, I’ve never been in here-”

“-Results prove so,” Suna muttered under his breath as he rounded the reception desk to let the others filter into the space.

“Shut the fuck up, you goddamn nerd.”

The youngest of the six boys glanced between his seniors with a worried look, “shouldn’t we be quiet?”

Hissy-whispering amongst the boys thinned when Suna pointed around. “Is Hanabusa San still h-ouh, there she is…”

Coming around the corner with a pile of books so high she couldn’t see past them, she dropped the load on the counter with a wobble. “Don’t loom. You’re scary to normal people.”

“That’s rude.”

“You’re all almost six foot and over, and we’re two girls in a murky room. It’s absolutely frightening.”

Stepping onto his back foot to look the girl standing close in the eye without giving himself a double-chin, Aran made a strange expression. “When you make that kind of face, it’s hard to believe you’re scared of anything at all.”

“Ojiro Senpai, why are you loitering in the library when the third years have mock exams?”

Pulling his upper lip inside the lower, the Ace glanced down at the girl who met his shoulder. “How do you know that?”

“I asked Coach Kurosu when I saw him on the way in this morning.”

“The coach gets here at 7:30.”

“I’m aware.”

“Why were you here at 7:30?”

“I wanted to try and memorize where the classes are.”

“How are you doing?”

“I got most down, but the majority of the science, art, home ec and wood-work blocks are locked at that time so I don’t know where the rest rooms are in those places yet.”

“Are you being serious?”

“This may be too much information for you, but when I need to find a private cubicle - I need to make a Bee-line. It’s no joke.”

“I’m not going to ask, but if you feel like you need to tell me, I’ll be here.”

“Why are you saying it like that?”

“I’m talking about your condition-”

“-I know that’s not optimal for what I’ve not-so signed up for, but I promise I’ll try as best I can to make sure it doesn’t interfere with your club.”

Eyes softening and shoulders slackening, Aran’s lip plucked in on the left. “Some things can’t be helped. Just do you’re best.” Raising his arm, a giant hand patted the top of her head twice. “We’re looking forward to seeing what you can do.”

To Suna’s right, the youngest boy inspected the various posters on the walls. “I’ve never actually been in here since the induction either. I need to read up on Natsume Souseki for the upcoming test and I don’t want to have to buy a copy just for that.”

Turning her head from her senior, Hanabusa wagged her nail. “I’d say buy a copy if you enjoy reading; it’s a very interesting look on loneliness and trying to find peace within oneself.” Sweat trickling from under her hair and still on the verge of panting, she clung to the reception desk. “If not, Kirie Chan can help you with finding one to borrow so you can study.”

Scanning the top row of volumes containing classical Greek art, Suna’s brow quirked at the statue of Venus de Milo. “Kirie Chan? You got friendly fast.” Holding it down a little so Ginjima could take a peek, the middle blocker and wing spiker shared a snigger for the armless, bare-breasted sculpture.

Wafting her arms and trying to mouth the situation unknown to the boys in her year, she slid along a table top and jabbed the second years on the upper arm with the middle knuckle of her index finger. Sliding out in front of them, she held up a piece of paper stating, ‘do NOT get in the way - crushes abound - Don’t even speak a word.’ Catching a glance of what they were giggling like school girls at, Hanabusa blinked slowly. “Is dismemberment a group kink, or…?”

Getting the gist of the aggressive facial expressions - and the odd question - Suna, Ginjima and the other younger boys fell into line - Aran behind them scowling with a disapproving look for the lechery. “We just came to collect our manager…”

“Number 5-Kun, I don’t believe we share any classes.”

“N-numb-I’m Ginjima.”

“Hey, guys, were are you going?” Still holding up three different editions of Kokoro by the aforementioned Natsume, the first-year Wing Spiker’s head snapped left and right. “Hang on, I need to find out which is the right one and check it out-”

“-Number 14-Kun-”

“That’s Riseki Heisuke,” Aran cut in from over Hanabusa’s left shoulder.

“She doesn’t even know my name…”

“You’re in the same class and you know each other, right?” Not even waiting for a reply, the newcomer continued as she put her notepad and as many books would fit into her bag before slapping a sticky tab on the rest. “Kirie Chan’s on crutches and we have Home Ec next, which is in the opposite end of the building from you two, so can you give her a hand after she’s helped you find what you’re looking for?”

Blustering, Riseki glanced back and forth between his senior making the request, the temporary librarian, and then his teammates. “O-of course! I’m sorry Sasaki Chan, I didn’t realise you were having such a hard time.”

Head down, Sasaki tweaked her fingertips when she was faced with her long-time crush. “I didn’t expect you to notice.”

“That’s not the point. We used to be pretty close in middle school, didn’t we? I should have offered to help you.”

“Kirie Chan, I’ll either pick these other books up later or on Monday.” Ushering her fellow second-years out of the library, Hanabusa gave a thumbs-up to her first friend and mouthed, ‘Go for it. Fighting!’ behind the male first-year’s back. Halting for a split second, the older girl leaned in close to Riseki on her back-foot with the face of a demon as Aran shaded her. Frown-lines and shadow covering the top half of her face, striking peridot eyes bore into his. “You better not let her walk up or down stairs on her own.”

Face twitching at the expression he was receiving more than the proximity, Riseki held up his hand as if he was swearing an oath to someone higher than God. “Y-yes….Senpai…Manager San?”

Straightening up only to flop forward under the weight she was carrying - both her bag and body - Hanabusa left the library with a grumbling complaint for how she already disliked how big the school campus was. As soon as the group had passed through the chaotic corridor and descended into the stairwell filled with students changing classes, Hanabusa spat a curse as if it was a hiccup. “Ah, shit.”

“What?”

“I forgot to give her my contact details.”

“I’ll head bac-”

“No! This could actually be perfect.”

“How so?”

“Message number 14-Kun and tell him to pass on the details from Kirie Chan.”

“He’s called Riseki Heisuke…”

“How does that help; we’re literally less than a hundred yards away. I can run back.”

“Jesus, boys really are dim.” Squeezed between the solid shoulders of Suna and Aran as other students rushed on their own way, Hanabusa tried to use her arms to articulate but only looked like a T-Rex having a seizure with her elbows forced to her ribs and smushing her breasts. “That girl has had a crush on him since middle school - can you not even see that I’m trying to help her get a chance at talking to him while they’re naturally on their own?”

“But it wasn’t natural; you set them up.”

“You only know that because I outright told you so. If I didn’t say a word, you lot would probably still be in there lingering, roasting each other and getting jollies off nude Grecian statues.”

“So?”

“Which would prevent them from talking alone.”

“Oh. Ouhhh…so if you-then they-ah, I get it.”

Peering up with a waddle, Hanabusa quirked her brow. “Do you though?”

“Just barely.”

“I thought as much.”

A cloud of dejection hung over the heads of the younger boys at the underhanded jab to their intelligence. “We have a longer practice tonight because it’s a Friday. Is that okay with you, Hanabusa Chan?” Aran asked as he rooted through his bag as if in search for something.

“I have no other obligations - I just need pointing in the direction of the right transport when we’re done because I haven’ta clue where the hell I am.”

“Won’t you need to call your parents,” the second-year stranger mused aloud.

“I’m living alone for the time being.”

“Giving out relationship help and living alone, while having a life-lesson-teaching role: are you trying to become the heroine of a manga?”

“If that was the case, I would have been hit by Truck-Kun and have a harem by now.”

“Well… we can see why Kita San asked you to join the fold…” Eyes blank and straight ahead, the boys hummed unanimously when Ginjima spoke his mind. “You were equally dark and optimistic in one sentence with a straight-face.”

“Why do you refer to things as ‘Insert-Kun?’ Just learn their names.”

Sucking in as much air as she could as soon as they filed out into the ground floor and she was allowed to take a breath not laden with somebody elses body odour, Hanabusa glanced up with a thoughtful finger to her lower lip. “You’re right. How silly of me, I really should have asked that lorry his given name last time he ran through a puddle and soaked me.”

“What even is this conversation any more?”

Furrowing her brows, the new girl finally clicked that something was different from earlier that morning. “Where’s Osamu?”

“Uhouh, she addressed him informally.” Ginjima snorted and Suna’s eyes narrowed, likely in confusion rather than anything hostile but Hanabusa was figuring it would be hard to tell either way.

“She calls people by their bib number and gives vehicles honorifics: are you really trying to keep track of how her mind works?”

Rolling her eyes at the two boys taller than her by at least a head, Hanabusa wiped the sweat from her forehead with a pocket tissue. “I can’t very well call him Miya - there’s two of them.”

Lengthy, heavy sighs expelled as a phantom muscle-ache took hold of those in the volleyball team. “We know. We really already know.”

“He had to go to the store to pick up ingredients for the next class,” Suna piped up as if the prior half hour’s conversation hadn’t happened. He knew it had - he just blocked it out and made his way via auto-pilot. “He brought the stuff but Tsumu ate half of it while we were taking gym.”

Mouth ajar and brow twitching, Hanabusa croaked. “So he went to get more?”

“He takes his cooking very seriously.”

“I should have asked him to pick mine up, too.”

“Heh? That’s not what I was expecting you to say.”

“I thought it was a theory lesson.” Pulling out her purse blindly, her eyes darted as one of her borrowed books fell to the floor. “How close is the nearest store?”

“Too far to get back in time.”

Rubbing his chin, Aran hummed in serious thought. “I doubt even Akagi could make that dash in time by now.”

“Shiii-”

“It’ll be fine; it’s your first day.” Ginjima told as he inched away from the girl in the throes of a neurotic breakdown. “We get given out a letter a week before we have to actually make anything; nobody is expecting you to carry around ingre-”

“-But I wanted to show off for once.”

“You’ve been here a day. Chill.”

Walking over to the main locker space by the front entrance, the group of six were almost bowled over by the missing talk of the minute. “Did I make it?”

“I call that a record - seventeen minutes. Nice one,” Ginjima went to give his teammate a high five but the Spiker missed when he stumbled forward with bags hanging off his wrists.

Osamu dropped his entire weight into the closest body with a heavy grunt, “I’m dead.”

“You’re sticking to my skin and yanking my hair…” Glancing up, Osamu was met by cleavage and a dead-stare. “At least buy, or rather - in this situation - make me dinner first.”

“Goddamn, you’re hot.”

Hanabusa’s head cocked to the side and her words fell out flat, “excuse me?”

“EXCUSE ME?” Aran grabbed the Spiker by his collar and yanked him up to his feet.

“I mean, your body- wait-”

Scowling at the taller boy, Ginjima spat in disgust. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I meant physically warm. Toasty, like a kotatsu.”

Shaking his head in dismay for the fiasco, Suna made a face as if he’d been forced to down a gallon of sour milk. “I think anyone who describes a girl as a kotatsu should be arrested on the spot after being slapped.”

The other second-year who wasn’t part of the volleyball team glanced amongst the others, clearly lost. “I don’t even get it.”

Sneaking up on the congregation, a head of bleached hair popped up between Suna and a Freshman. “They’re really hot and you want to get into them-”

Flying kicking the interloper, Ginjima shrieked, “that’s enough from you, you lewd narcissist!”

Snorting so hard her breath caused Osamu’s eyes to force shut, Hanabusa cackled. “I think you used the wrong person as a PLP.”

Floundering out of Aran’s grip and around after being ragged and kicked, Osamu choked on his own spit and tripped over his dropped shopping. “PLP? I’m sorr-I really didn’t mean to-are you okay?”

“It’s the warmest I’ve been embraced in a long time, if that’s anything to go by...”

Halting the foolery, the group of boys actually took notice of the female’s odd expression. Forgetting half-way through changing his shoes to the indoor pumps, Osamu muttered as he stared into the abyss of his locker. “I’m sorry for taking that from you.”

Giving a demure, “hm, nnn,” and gentle head shake, the new girl glanced up. The usual dull glower was replaced with upturned crescents seeping with ulterior motives. “Just gimme a quarter of what you’ve got.”

All the fantasy of femininity was blasted away when the girl’s attitude flipped a hundred and eighty degrees. Gob-smacked, the congregating boys were left dazed. “Hah? Is this daylight robbery?”

“Absolutely.” Fixing her bag strap and plucking the front of her shirt to close the gape, Hanabusa nodded upwards nonchalantly. “Hit me up.”

Jaw slack and eyes entirely white, Osamu gawked. “What?”

Seemingly the only person in half the right mind at that moment, Aran rubbed his temples with closed eyes. “She means in home economy…”

Amongst the chaos, Osamu blinked repeatedly, the rest of his features lax as if he was the village dolt. “Does she though…?”

Staring at their number eleven, the members of the volleyball team pinched their lips, nodded in the same rhythm, and spoke in unison as if they were a choir. “Yes. Yes Osamu, all she wants is your home ec ingredients.”

“She want’s tHAaaaT maaaNN-MEATTTT!”
 
“Miya Atsumu, that’s a detention for you and your vile mouth!” A teacher’s voice rang from the other end of the corridor.

Aran was already rubbing his hand from hitting the idiot with a chop to the side of the neck but at this rate, he wouldn’t be bothered if he had to endanger his life in order to beat the pair of morons within an inch of theirs.

 

The cooking class had filled and gone to their designated stations. Reading over her paperwork, the cookery teacher looked to the girl left over who was tying her hair up. “Pair up with Suna and Miya; you’re familiar with them, aren’t you, Manager Chan?”

Moving over to the work station where the boys were, Hanabusa tied her apron at the back of her waist unlike the others who could double and tie at the front. Shuffling to the sink underneath the window behind the pair, Hanabusa snatched three tea towels off the rack and stuffed them into the front of her pinafore before washing her hands. “Looks like it’s a three-way.”

Straight-faced, Suna snorted milk out of his nose as Osamu blinked repeatedly with furrowed brows. Both of their sights in the opposite direction from the female, the pair fumbled with their itineraries when the girl nudged her way in between them. “Who’s prepping?”

“Please be careful of your wording.”

“It’s more efficient if someone peels, another chops the meat, and the other preps the eggs.”

“I meant the three-way!” Osamu yelped, perhaps a little too loud.

The girl hung her head and sniggered when some of the other students clattered their equipment and gasped. Much more within an appropriate volume, Hanabusa tried to temper her smirk. “Oh, come on. Don’t act like I’m offending your innocence after you greeted my boobs with your face only fifteen minutes ago.” Actually checking what their recipe for the day was, she scowled and gave a scoff. “Really, we’re learning to make omurice in our second year of high school? What kind of idiots do they take us for?”

“Is omurice beneath you?”

“It should be below all of our grade. Isn’t this one of the first things people learn to make in like…Elementary school?”

“Is a split-personality part of your condition?”

Pre-heating a sauté pan with butter, Hanabusa measured out the rice for two people. “I don’t have a split-personality.”

“Every instance I’ve talked to you, you’ve been completely different.”

“I like to keep people on their toes.” Sneaking a peak to the boys beside her, they couldn’t possibly be any different. Osamu was finely dicing the fresh ingredients with finesse while Suna was having a dire struggle trying to whisk eggs in a bowl. “Besides, I find it pointless to make small-talk and be all nicey-nicey when I have no intention of forming a relationship with someone. However, we’re now part of the same club so let’s speak informally, yeah?” Leaning back behind Osamu, she tapped Suna on his shoulder. “Was that salt or sugar you just put in there?”

The middle-blocker blinked at the contents of the bowl, to what were identical tubs to him, and then stared at her for a few seconds before answering. “What’s it matter?”

Hanabusa glanced up to Osamu, who in turn gave a look which told her everything she needed to know. “This. This is why we make omurice, and not French cuisine.”

“If nothing else, I guess I should be grateful of knowing what the standards are right off the bat…”

“There’s no need to be polite. A good ninety-nine percent of the participants are like this; it’s both infuriating and hilarious.”

“Wasting food isn’t funny to me - it’s a goddamn catastrophe.” Sticking her finger in the raw egg mixture, Hanabusa tested the waters which may as well have been pure food poisoning. “It tastes…way too sweet….” Her entire face screwed up, akin to someone gnawing on raw-sugar slurry.

“Throw it; I bought a dozen eggs. We can start over.”

“I’m not throwing it. That’s four whole eggs; lend me two more and I’ll save it.”

“How can you save a bust with more of the same?”

“Pardon you.” Reaching for the sugar and pilfering some vanilla extract from another station as she gave a fantastical turn around a nightmare another pair were about to have with melted sugar and cold water, Hanabusa wagged either index finger as both hands ‘procured’ ingredients from other tables. “I happen to be the Queen of food revival.” Setting down her scavenged goods, she began heating a quart of cream left over, vanilla flavour and the bowl of janky eggs Suna had somehow devastated.

“You’re pretty confident at making these outlandish statements.”

“Nah, it’s just that the statements I make seem outlandish to people who aren’t willing to push.”

Watching the girl whizz around the kitchen, Osamu almost forgot it was his turn to check the pans on the hob. “Is that what you do,” he asked, their backs brushing when they switched sections of the station, “push?”

Flinging the oven door shut with the back of her ankle as the teacher called half-time, Hanabusa rolled along the counter edge with her nail pointing towards the ceiling. “I like to, but some people just can’t be helped when they don’t pay attention.”

“I can’t agree more.”

“You do know that you forgot to put your onions into the fried rice, right?”

“W-what?”

“Don’t open my oven;” Grinning, she rested the front of her hips against the counter between the pair on her team and whispered, “you’ll ruin my creme pudding.”

“We were making omurice-”

“-Never dismiss seemingly insignificant things that most people want to throw away just because you have some grand idea or they’re not part of your plan.”

“Is that what you read from on of your new library books?”

Cleaning down their work-space, washing her hands, and bringing an actual pen to the fight after washing their equipment, Hanabusa loomed over the taller pair who were now lounging around as if they had all day. “Are you talking about using cheap or ‘useless’ things, or something else?”


 

Updated: 20th December 2020 - 20:50