Sakura Kiss (Wizard School Romance)

[] [?????] You decide to head off Nakamura-san.

Soccer tryouts were only a few weeks ago, but in that time you feel like Natsume may have died and become and a ghost.

You have known Natsume for over ten years now, and in that time have rarely gone more than a handful of days without her shouting at you, or physically assaulting you, or at the very least teasing you. Her presence in your life has become a given, and if that presence isn't exactly calming, it's at least reassuring in its constancy. Even these first few months at Hiyari, with new routines and schedules and separate classes, have rarely seen you parted for long. Perhaps that's why you feel her absence so quickly and so keenly. With any of your other friends, save Ban, two weeks would be a blip, would hardly register. But Natsume is different.

It's not like you never see her at all. Hiyari is a large campus for a high school, but even one hundred and fifty acres is tight when you never leave (and first years almost never do, though the older students have more privileges in that regard). But in the last few weeks your interactions with Natsume have been brief and at a distance – a glimpse from opposite ends of the stairway, or through a classroom window, or down at the end of the long trail through the woods that connects the school buildings and the dorms.

And for a while, at least, you think maybe that's just the way of it. You and Natsume are in high school now, and her soccer club has kicked into proper gear. It's not unbelievable to think that you might just miss each other, for days or even weeks at a time.

But then, finally, you find her. It's evening, far later than you would normally be at school but with the sports festival drawing closer and closer you've been help Yuhara more and more, and so it's dark by the time you stumble out of the admin building. Natsume is walking ahead of you, struggling to maintain her own witchlight as she trudges several dozen feet behind a few other members of the soccer team who are all making their way to the dorms after practice.

"Natsume!" You raise a hand, moving your own witchlight into position so she can clearly see your face. You see her turn, and recognize you, and then you watch with a slow-dawning confusion as she douses her witchlight and charges up the path away from you, until she has joined her teammates.

That's when you realize that Natsume is actively avoiding you.

"I don't know what to tell you, man," Harada says, shrugging her shoulders. It's the next day, and you've cornered her as she waits in line for the vending machines. Autumn is fast approaching and it's no longer quite so hot, but one of the machines broke down from over-use and the other has been cursed to only provide grape-flavored versions of whatever is ordered, so the line for the single remaining machine stretches on and on. "Me and Shimada-san don't really talk."

"Well, count yourself lucky," you say, the insult an actual reflex after so many years. "But you've got to know something. Has she been acting weird?"

"Not that I can tell," Harada says. "Look, the practices are pretty brutal, maybe she's just tired? God knows I don't have any time."

You gesture back and forth between the two of you. "And yet, look at the two of us. Gabbing like a couple of old ladies."

"Maybe she takes her studies more seriously than I do."

You snort. "I'd consider alien impostor before I considered Natsume getting serious about academics."

Harada throws up her hands. "I guess the seniors could've gotten to her."

"What?" You ask. "What seniors?"

"You know, the third years on the team," Harada says. "Ban-senpai, and Inoue-senpai, and Adachi-senpai." Off your confused look, she continues. "I don't...look, seriously, I don't know a ton about it. But they tease her."

This is new. "What, they bully her?"

"No," Harada shakes her head. "Nothing like that. It's just teasing is all. They do it to all of us, it's not mean." A beat. "It's a little mean. They call me Harada-kun because of my hair."

"Ah, but I like your hair," you say, smiling.

Harada swats at you, but there's no force behind it. "It doesn't bother me, really. It's just hazing. Everyone has to deal with it until we win our first game, and then it's like…" she does jazz hands, "we're part of the team. I didn't really think Shimada-san was the type to let it get to her, but maybe it did."

"Well, what do they tease her about?" You ask. "Is it the way she runs? Or her laugh? Or the way she always forgets to say "let's eat" until her mouth is already full?"

Harada finally steps up to the vending machine and starts fumbling with her change. It's made more difficult by the fact that she's looking at you like you're a small child trying to fit the square block through the round hole. "They tease her about you, dude."

"...Me?" You don't know whether to offended or proud that third-year girls even know who you are. "What the fuck did I ever do to them?"

"Uh, hey, hey, out of the way?" Harada asks. She pulls an iced coffee from the machine and the two of you start the walk back to class. "Out of the way for Natsume, and all that shit? You kinda made an impression."

"I make an impression everywhere I go," you say. "But I could see how that might help me stand out, yeah."

"Well, you certainly stood out to the seniors," Harada says. "So they say a lot of stupid stuff, like asking her to see the ring, or what kind of flowers she's going to have, or when they're getting their invitations."

"That's stupid."

"That's what I said."

"Natsume wouldn't let that stuff bother her."

"Also what I said."

"Are you sure there's nothing else you can think of?"

Harada sighs. "Tell you what, I'll think about it and let you know. I'll even check with Iroha."

You nod, mollified. Nezu is a veritable fountain of gossip – maybe you should drop by the newspaper club later today. "Thanks, Harada-san."

"No problem." Harada glances at you, chewing on her lip. "Is it bad that I really expected you to call me Harada-kun?"

"No, normally I'd be all over that. But if I pretend you're a boy, I also have to pretend I'm not the prettiest boy here, and I just can't bring myself to do it."

[] [Koshimoto] Rocks on your window at 3 AM.

"Yo, Yuta," Ban says, poking his head through the door of your classroom. Sweat gleams on his face in the light of the setting sun, his kendo equipment thrown over one shoulder. "You done?"

You glance up at Yuhara, who has taken her usual after-school place at the desk across from you. Both of you still have a stack of paper in front of you, though yours is thicker on account of how you keep getting distracted by students walking by outside, or the cicadas, or the stuttering whir of the standing fan. "I can handle the rest of the this," she says, waiving airily at your remaining work. "You go."

"Are you sure?" You ask, already halfway out of your seat. Maybe a true gentlemen would insist on staying until the bitter end, but you're comfortable with being whatever level of gentlemen helps sporadically.

"I'll be fine," Yuhara says. She looks over at Ban and waves. "Did you have a good practice, Ban-san?"

"Just Ban, please," Ban says. "You don't think Ban-san sounds kind of ridiculous?"

Yuhara looks intently down at her work. "Ban, then."

"It was good. We'll be ready for the sports festival," Ban says. "Have a good night, Yuhara-san."

"Oh, you can just…" but Ban is already out the door and halfway down the hall, urging you to follow. You watch Yuhara for a moment before following, but her face betrays nothing.

Ban casts long looks in all directions as the two of you tramp down the staircase, but he doesn't say anything until you're both out the double doors and into the fresh summer air. It's too early for campus to be completely abandoned, with a decent number of students leaving their clubs or study sessions, but Ban leads you to a more winding and circuitous route up to the dorms, away from people. "Listen," he says as you walk. "I wanted to talk to you about…girls."

"Hm," you say, not breaking stride. "OK."

Ban glances at you, eyes narrowed. "I kind of expected more than that."

You hold up a finger. "Hold on, I need to figure what bit I want to go with here. It's been so long, and I have so many…"

"And there it is."

"I mean, 'they grow up so fast' is kind of generic, right?" You ask. "And 'even I can't help you with that' is a little mean."

"It would be," Ban says, his voice heavy with resignation.

"But I could do 'what does this mean for us' or 'we're gonna paint the town red, buddy…"

This goes on for some time. Eventually Ban just stops by the side of the path and leans against a tree as you blabber on, each proposal less intelligible than the last. "Or, or, or…something about babies."

"Okay, you get one more," Ban says.

You screw your eyes closed, but at last nothing comes to mind. "Nah, I think I'm done now. I really thought I would perform better when the time came."

"So, does that mean you're ready to be serious?"

"I wouldn't go that far, but I'll try, at least," you say. "So who's the lucky lady?"

Ban barks a laugh. "Hell no."

"What?" You ask, not needing to fake the shock in your voice. "I have to help, and try to be serious, and you're gonna keep all the best parts to yourself?" You meet his smug grin with a scowl. "You know I'm gonna find out sooner or later."

"Maybe," Ban admits, "but for now I'm playing it close to the chest. Are you still gonna help?"

You roll your eyes. "Obviously. So what's the problem? Have you tried telling her you're Ban Naoya?"

"Honestly, I'd love to be able to tell her anything," Ban says. "But I...I don't know, it's really hard."

"What, saying hi?"

"Yes!" Ban says, and you're surprised by the heat in his voice. You can't remember the last time Ban actually shouted, not even when he fell out of a tree and broke his arm. He isn't shouting now, but he's damn close. Frustration simmers in every word. "Saying anything. I mean, I do it, I can say words, you know, small talk, but then I try to talk to her like a person and I just…" he shrugs, helpless. "I don't know."

"It sounds like you know." The two of you have stopped now, the lights of the first year dorm shining in the distance as the last of the sun slips away. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but I can't help you if you don't tell me about it."

Ban sighs. "I know, I know. It's just weird talking about it."

You nod, unsure what to say.

"I guess I just...get butterflies in my stomach," he says, after a long minute of thought. "But it's worse. And more. Like my whole body's going out of control. I can't even think straight."

"Are you having a stroke?" You ask. And then, off his look, "sorry, sorry. I'm trying to be serious."

"What do you do?" Ban asks. "When you get like that."

But you can only spread your hands. Honestly – and you would never tell Ban this, not now – but it doesn't even sound real to you, what he's describing. It sounds like something out of a TV show, or a manga. A literary device, more than an experience people actually have. It's not that you think Ban is lying, but he's nervous, and when people get nervous they...they don't lie to themselves, but they exaggerate what they feel. Grasp for an excuse. So instead you say, "Guess I just haven't met the right girl yet."

"You will," Ban says, and he sounds so certain. "Thanks, Yuta."

"For what?" You ask. "I haven't helped at all yet."

Ban slings an arm across your shoulder and the two of you resume your walk towards the dorms. "I'm content in the knowledge that you haven't conquered this particular obstacle. Besides, you're gonna be my wingman, right?"

"You know you'll have to tell me who she is before I can do that."

"I think I'm willing to take that risk," Ban says. "when the time is right."

"Is the time right now?"

"No."

"How about now?"

"No."

"How about now?"

This goes on for some time.