#wt 31

“Right,” said Reiji. Immediately the car took a turn down a narrow side road and barreled towards the nearest supermarket.

“Right,” said Reiji, and he grabbed Youtarou and marched into the supermarket, Chika following him as she snagged a shopping basket as fast she could scurry.

“You might as well come in,” said Yuuma. “Miden markets are pretty interesting.”

Hyuuse sighed heavily.

“Keep your hood up if you do,” said Osamu. “I’ll… stay in the car since Reiji-san hasn’t locked it.”

They all looked at the front driver’s-side door, still hanging open.

“Or shut off the car.”

“Keep Osamu company then,” said Yuuma.

“Fine, I’ll go,” said Hyuuse. He followed Yuuma to the supermarket doors to see Chika attempting to stop Reiji and replace the child in his hand with her shopping basket.

Yuuma helped her lever Youtarou out of Reiji’s grip and Chika said, “Here! Here’s the milk and eggs!”

“Right,” said Reiji. “What else does Yuri-san want?”

“ICE CREAM,” screamed Youtarou, still held aloft by Yuuma, seeing the opportunity and seizing it with both hands.

“Right,” said Reiji.

Hyuuse hung back, studying the assembled produce to identify his nemesis. He picked up a yellow fruit and smelled it, surprised when the scent came back sour.

He went down the row of fruit, stopping only when he reached for a basket of some of kind of berry and collided with the hand of another patron.

“Sorry,” said Hyuuse automatically. He kept his head down to keep his hood up and walked off quickly in the direction of Youtarou cheering “COOKIES” at the top of his lungs.

He wondered why the man kept looking after him until Yuuma appeared at the end of the stack of foodstuffs and waved his hand to the scarred man. Hyuuse turned his head backwards then, and met the edge of the cold gaze as Border’s Commander vanished into the dairy aisle.

“You’re late,” she said.

He could clearly remember every one of a handful of times she had spoken to him before his skill was recognised. When his horns had been implanted she had held one of his hands in hers, and spoke to him throughout, her voice clear and not at all comforting. The day his horns had turned black, and his teachers rushed him to a meeting of house heads she had been among them, her own horns gleaming proudly.

“Some of us have active duties,” he said back, striding past her.

The day Vorvoros was put around his wrist, and she had looked down from his horns into his face, and smiled.

Visa bowed his head at them just a little further than politeness demanded; Enedra sneered at him.

This must be important, if they’ve sent for that senile old geezer.

He pitched his voice to carry to House Beltiston’s unflappable young master, House Ellin’s prodigy foster soldier. They’re sour-faced chumps, anyway. “What am I doing at this meeting of peons?” he said. “Don’t we have better things to do?”

“You may refer to the official press releases by the Public Relations Department for clarifications of the information you have already received. Any further updates will be communicated officially by Border at the correct time. Please remember that journalists are requested not to press Border agents, the majority of whom are minors, for information. Mikumo-kun, this way.”

“Thank you,” said Osamu fervently. He clung to her arm as she bodily towed him away from the excited crowd. He would rather have climbed back on the Expedition Ship and single-handedly infiltrated an army.

“You should know how to handle them by now,” said Kitora. She tightened her grip on his forearm and Osamu stood up straighter by pure reflex. “And you should expect this. You were the one who crashed a press conference, surely you took the experience and learned from it. ”

“I was full of painkillers and I’d just woken up from a coma,” said Osamu.

The sniper turned his head to stare at Murakami. “Yes,” he said, completely flat-eyed. “And also yes.”

“I’ve got someone who needs tutoring,” said Murakami.

“What’s wrong with your grades?” said Arafune. “I thought your side-effect would work best with remembering school stuff.”

“I can remember them,” said Murakami. “It turns out that there’s a little more effort involved in getting good grades.” He shifted his arm position. “And it turns out that that means I can’t teach.”

“I could have told you that,” said Arafune. Murakami took a swing, which went wide as Arafune ducked. “Who is it you can’t teach? I told Kage before, there’s no way I’ll-”

“No,” said Murakami. “No, someone else.”

 .0.

“He did this to me,” said Arafune hoarsely. His hands were in his hair and his hat was on the table, fallen off as he beat his head on the desk. “He knew and he did it anyway.”

“You’re a much better teacher than he is,” said Yuuma fairly. “This is more progress than anyone else but Miwa-sempai.”

“When did Tamakoma give up,” said Arafune.

“Four days ago,” said Yuuma.

“Did Reiji-san give up,” said Arafune.

“Yes,” said Yuuma, neglecting to mention that it had taken Shiori and Yuri both to coax the broken man away from the table.