Sakura Kiss (Wizard School Romance)

Rain sweeps across Hiyari halfway through the school year's sixth week, an ocean squall which brings with it relief from the relentless heat of summer. Dark, heavy clouds roll low across the sky, broken only by fitful slats of sunlight, giving the whole world an eerie, liminal cast. Winds blow the rain nearly sideways, but that doesn't stop the students from gathering under the covered courtyards and walkways and basking. It doesn't stop them from throwing open windows in the hallways and classrooms, filling the entire school with a shallow (or not-so-shallow, depending on where you are) puddle of rainwater,

You are navigating one of those not-so-shallow puddles, a particularly old hallway where uneven mountain has merged with warped construction to form something of a lake which divides the cultural club rooms from the after-classes academic societies. It's treacherous going, dangerous to your shoes, but the only other path leading where you want to go will take out right outside without even a covered walkway to protect you. So you're picking your way across the dryer spots of the hallway and praying when you hear a familiar voice shouting something from the hallway behind you, and the pound of running feet on old wood.

"Ah…" you mutter to yourself, looking down at your dry shoes, "shit."

Something hits you in the back and you stagger forwards, off your relatively dry perch and into one of the deepest parts of the makeshift lake. Water soaks your shoes and several inches of your pants, but you manage to get your other foot out in front of you before you fall completely on your face.

"Guess...oh shit…" small, feminine hands hastily readjust their grip on the front of your shirt to keep their owner from sliding, "guess who?"

"Natsume," you growl, "this game works better if you're not clutching to my back like a goddamn monkey."

Natsume laughs in your ear. "This was the driest way across the hallway."

You turn your head, making sure your annoyance is written all over your face, but when Natsume finally comes into your field of view, you just find her smiling. "Since your feet are already wet, I figured you wouldn't mind assisting a lady."


"I wouldn't at all," you say, "if only there was a lady around to assist."

Another laugh. "Okay, okay, fair enough," she says. "But seriously, can you hurry? I've already done my workout for the day and my arms are like jelly, I don't know how much longer I can hold on here."

"Oughta just let you fall," you grumble, but instead you pick one foot up and start wading across the rest of the hallway.

"So I hear you and Ban got yourself beat up," Natsume says as you walk. "By a girl."

Of course. "You and the whole school."

"You want me to rough her up a little?" Natsume asks. "I would never hesitate to help a lady in need."

You smile despite yourself – Natsume has a way of bringing that out – but come to a stop several feet from the other side of the puddle. "You know, I don't have to carry you."

"Come on," Natsume says, "I'm just saying, I could be your noble samurai. Avenge your honor. And you could, I don't know, cook for me, and compose poems about me…"

"I'm really serious here. I'm not going to move until you start being nicer to me."

"Well we both know that's never going to happen, so you might as well just hurry it up."

But you stand, stubborn, like some great partially-submerged statue.

"Okay," Natsume says after a minute, and you can actually feel the quiver in her arms, "maybe I could've been more sensitive…"

You hm and haw a bit, as if you're really considering it. "That's a pretty half-assed apology."

"Oh come on Yuta," Natsume groans. "I swear to god, if you don't hurry up I'm going to fall."

"I think I want to hear you call me a noble samurai," you say. "And maybe compose a poem. And promise you'll never cook for me."

"You're-"

But then her strength gives out, and she falls. Honestly, you hadn't expected that, and the sudden weight off your back – plus a human body crashing to the ground directly behind you – means that you are also not safe from the siren song of gravity. Your legs go out from under you and you tumble, and your suddenly chivalrous instinct to not land solidly on top of Natsume means you instead land beside her, soaking your back and pants.

You lie there for a moment, blinking up at the ceiling lights, as laughter echoes down the hallway. Some from the students that are watching from either end of the lake, but most from Natsume, who despite having pushed herself into a seated position, seems liable to collapse back into the water at any moment from the sheer hilarity of your situation.

"You deserve that," she says, as you both struggle to your feet. "You got greedy with the poem."

"I got greedy?" You offer her your hand but she sticks her tongue out at you and wades the rest of the way to dry land, where she looks herself all over trying to judge the extent of the damage. A few of the guys watching whistle and cheer, but it all goes in one of her ears and out the other. "Without you, we'd both be dry."

"Well don't go crying yet," Natsume says, then cracks the knuckles on both hands. She contorts her fingers in a quick series of gestures, claps her hands together, and then jabs you roughly in the chest. There is a burst of warm air and the water in your clothing leaps from you, spattering the walls and floor around you as if you're a dog that just shook yourself off.

By the time you've finished inspecting yourself, Natsume has performed the same trick on her own uniform. Like you, her clothes aren't exactly dry, but they're also no longer uncomfortably wet – you should both be able to make it through the rest of the day without having to run back to the dorms to change. "I didn't know you could cast a drying charm like that," you tell her.

"Poor little rich boy," Natsume says, patting your cheek. "So noble. So elegant. So unpracticed with his household charms."

If you were a more traditional type of Takami, it might irk you to lag behind a clanless magi like Shimada Natsume. But neither pride nor an old fashioned sense of who ought to wield magic are not among your your many flaws. Natsume is talented, and as daughter of tradesmen sworn to house Ban, she has been a fixture in your life since you were small. To resent her would be like to resent the wind, or the rain. "Just promise me you won't keep jumping on people."

"Oh, no," Natsume says. "How else will I keep your on your toes?"

"I'm sure you'd find a way." Some half remembered details comes to the forefront of your mind. "Soccer tryouts are soon, right?"

"Two weeks," Natsume says, flashing you a grin. "You gonna come see me demolish the competition?"


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