I don’t care what you say, Mr. Imai. These functions are anything but radical.
Ranko glowered over her precalculus assignment, tossing her pencil to the pressboard desktop in frustration. I’m never gonna get this shit. I swear, I’m not taking math in college. I’m majoring in cooking, singing, and looking cute. She laughed at the absurdity of her own thoughts. Just like everybody else who was a boy until junior year.
“Need help?”
Ranko looked up at her silver-haired friend, nodding pleadingly. “I thought there were too many kanji, but then math was like, stand back and watch me make up a whole bunch of new symbols that make no damn sense.”
Kumiko leaned over her best friend’s shoulder, picking up the pencil she’d discarded. “Okay, so you almost had this one. Reduce this down here and here, and we get 36x-squared right? Well, if that’s 36 times x squared, what’s the square root of 36?
“Six,” Ranko said, the rise in her voice indicating that she was asking more than declaring.
“Okay, and the square root of x squared is just x, right? So we’ve got 6x over here, and the other side is just 12, so what’s twelve divided by six?”
“... Two.”
Kumiko nodded, handing Ranko back the Sanrio pencil so she could add her answer to the sheet. “See? You can do this. I think sometimes you just let it intimidate you, and you don’t slow down and think it through.”
The songstress shrugged, drawing a circle around the numeral 2 on her paper. “I guess so. But you make this stuff look so ea…” She was interrupted by a piercing electric chime blaring from the intercom system announcing the end of fifth period. “Saved by the bell,” Ranko enthused with a giggle, stuffing her notebook into her school satchel.
“Ugh, I don’t wanna do sixth period! I just wanna get out of here. It’s Friday, baby!” Kumiko laughed as she shouldered her backpack, throwing her arm over Ranko’s shoulder. “You wanna hang tomorrow?”
Ranko shook her head. “I can’t; I’ve got that thing with my dad.” She blushed with a smile - the fact that the words my dad could pass her lips without disgust was still a novel and wonderful thought to her. “Besides, what are you doing complaining about sixth period? You gotta, what, go make some muffins or something?”
“Look who’s talking, little miss ballerina.” Kumiko giggled, nudging Ranko’s arm gently with a fist. “They get you fitted for your pink tutu yet?”
Ranko scoffed. “Oh, fuck off, Kumi. No chance in hell I’m doing any of that stuff, and the deadline to sign up for the end-of-year recital was last month anyway. If you think I’m letting Yui see me doing any of that frou-frou stuff, you’re out of your mind, girl. I’d never live that shit down.”
Kumiko nodded. “So I guess you’re doing your performance through your music class, then?”
The redhead laughed, shaking her head. “I’m an award-winning singer and songwriter and a cheerleader. I think I perform plenty, thank you very much.”
Ranko’s younger friend sped up for three steps to get ahead of her, turning to face her and stopping her with a stiff arm to her shoulder. “Wait, are you saying you aren’t signed up to do a senior performance?!”
“Why would I? Last thing I got time for is rehearsals and all that stuff. I’ve got a world tour to get ready for, Kumi!” Ranko’s mirth faded somewhat at the seriousness in Kumiko’s eyes. “What are you all worked up about, anyway?”
Kumiko shook her head, allowing her forehead to come to rest in her hand. “Ranko, you have got to learn to read the damn requirements paperwork sometime! One of these days, it’s really gonna bite you in the ass and we won’t be there to save you, girl! We’re in a vocational school, so you gotta do a final project. For me, in art, I had to do that portfolio thing, remember?”
Ranko nodded. “You ain’t gotta remind me; you blew off movie night for almost a month finishing that shit up.”
“Yeah, but…” Kumi’s eyes took on an urgent, almost frantic worry. “For performance majors like you, you’ve gotta do a senior performance as a graduation requirement, and you’re running out of time!”
Waving her off as she continued walking toward Kumiko’s locker, Ranko laughed. “I’m covered with the cheerleading thing! I told ya.”
“You’re not listening, Ranko! They won’t count that! You better find something to sign up for, and quick, or you won’t graduate in March!”
“So I’ll throw a concert in the gym. Maybe I’ll pull a Shiori and drop Not Yours, Don’t Touch on my last day, just for old time’s sake.” Ranko laughed, but her voice had taken on a bit of concern.
Kumi sighed heavily, tossing her bag to the floor and beginning to fidget with the pink combination lock securing her locker. “I don’t think they’re gonna let you get away with that, Ran-chan. If I were you, I’d get your butt up to Mrs. Ikara’s office and ask, like, right n…”
Her voice trailed off as Kayo Morimoto, youngest of the Yusue High cheerleaders, crashed through the crowd in the corridor, in the opposite direction to the one Kumi and Ranko had been traveling. She was crying.
“What the…?” Kumiko started to close her locker, but Ranko put up her hand to encourage her friend to finish her preparations for her next class.
“I’ll find out.” Ranko began weaving her way through the throng after the distraught pigtailed freshman, but quickly lost sight of the smaller girl in the chaos of the student body’s excitement at the impending weekend. Just as she gave up the chase, she was slammed into from behind, and whirled to find herself face-to-face with another of her squadmates. “Hey, Shika! What was all that about with Kayo?”
The silver-haired sophomore sighed. “You asked me to find out what was wrong with her, Captain. Well, I did, and you’re not gonna like it, ma’am.”
“Come on! There’s gotta be a way to get an exception! I’ve logged more hours on stage than the rest of my class combined!”
The young counselor sighed, offering Ranko a peppermint from the jar on her desk. “My hands are tied, Ranko. This is a requirement for all vocational schools with our accreditation level nationwide. I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to find a way, or you won’t walk with your class at graduation.”
Ranko gasped, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. “But I’ve gotta start college! And it looks like the tour’s gonna happen starting in April! I can’t get hung up on this! Not now! There’s gotta be something you can do, Mrs. Ikara. Please! They’ve already closed all the slots for the dance thing; Ms. Kanzawa said there’s no way I can get in. I’ve worked so hard! You’ve gotta be able to do something! I’m begging here!”
Mrs. Ikara sighed. “You really do make this difficult on yourself sometimes, you know? But, you might be in luck. I spoke with the drama teacher, Ms. Zaito, yesterday, and she’s found herself in a bit of a bind. She just had somebody drop out of her cast for their end-of-year performance. So, if you get with her right away before somebody else gets the slot, you might just be able to save your bacon.”
“Drama?! Like, acting and shit? Seriously?” Ranko’s eyes were wide as saucers. How am I supposed to…
“Beggars can’t be choosers, Ranko. You’re awfully lucky this opened up this late in the year, honestly. And besides, you might enjoy it if you give it a chance! You ended up really getting into your dance class, after hating it in the beginning, remember?” The counselor smiled, trying in vain to cheer up the apoplectic cheerleader.
Ranko sighed, answering with a hollow defeat in her voice. “Yeah, I guess. I’ll go talk to Ms. Zaito, I suppose. Thanks.”
“Oh, come on, Ranko. Chin up.” Mrs. Ikara smiled brightly. “It’s the weekend! Got any fun plans?”
The redhead nodded, shouldering her bag with a sigh. “I’ve got a show. I’ve always got a show. But I gotta run. Thanks, Mrs. Ikara.”
“Sure thing, Ran-chan,” the counselor called after her, but the frustrated senior had already turned her back and was halfway out of her office.
Stupid requirements. Making me act, now? Can’t they just count all that bullshit with Eiji? Ranko grumbled to herself as she walked the empty hall toward her locker, the majority of the student body having already begun their weekend. She kicked dejectedly at an empty soda bottle that lay on the floor, not bothering to pick it up, and sending it skittering across the vacant corridor.
Where the hell am I gonna find the time to learn lines and shit?! I’ll just ask if I can play, like, a tree or something. Stand there, hold my arms out for an hour, get my stupid credit and move on. Friggin’ ridiculous. Where do they get off makin’ me do thi… huh?
“Please, Kazushi! People are gonna hear you!”
Ranko ducked behind a bank of lockers. Wait, was that…
Silently dropping her black school satchel to the linoleum floor, she crept quietly around the corner, searching for the source of the sound. There, in the darkened hallway between a janitor closet and the side door into the boys’ locker room, she found Kayo Morimoto, youngest of the fourteen Yusue High cheerleaders. The frightened girl was backed against the wall by a familiar beanpole of a boy.
“I told you, Kayo! How many times do I have to tell you, I expect you to come to my judo matches?! What the fuck good is it dating a cheerleader if… who am I kidding, that’s the problem, isn’t it?! You just forgot again, didn’t you? Fucking airhead.”
Kayo tried to back up as he stepped closer to her, but she had nowhere left to go. “I said I was sor…” Her apology was interrupted when the back of her boyfriend’s right hand made contact with her cheek, sending her sprawling to the freshly-mopped floor.
Kazushi Sawaya. Of course it’s you. It’s always the losers who try to act the biggest.
“I’ve had enough of your apologies, Kayo!” The brute stood over her, but stopped short of reaching down for her when he heard a voice behind him.
“Oooh, that looks like fun!” Ranko made no effort to make eye contact with her friend; she was focused entirely on the agitated young man with an excited, almost giddy sparkle in her eyes.
How sweet of you to give me someone to take this day out on, Kazushi.
Kazushi turned, rolling his eyes. “This is none of your business, girlie. Best keep moving.”
Still crumpled on the floor, Kayo nodded through her tears. “It’s okay, Ranko. Go home.”
“But, I wanna try!” Ranko almost whined as she skipped toward the young man in her red school pinafore, a bright smile on her face. Her vapid, giggly demeanor was somewhat disorienting given the circumstances, and so the boy made no effort to react to the approaching cheerleader until her lightning left fist crashed into his cheek and threw him back against a bank of steel lockers to his right.
“Wow! I knew it! Beating up on someone weaker than you sure is cool, isn’t it?!” Ranko affected an amused giggle as she spun on the heel of her school shoe, delivering a roundhouse kick to the boy’s temple and driving him downward to his hands and knees. “Shoulda listened to your judo instructor. Still can’t remember to keep your hands up, dumbass.”
You picked the wrong day to deserve a beating, asshole.
“Ranko, stop, please,” Kayo cried, steadying herself against the wall as she staggered to her feet.
“Oh, come on, Kayo! It’s super fun to kick the living shit out of people who can’t defend themselves! Isn’t it, Kazushi?” As she said his name, she swatted away his weak attempt at a punch with her right hand before driving her left knee across her body, slamming it into his temple. Her strike interrupted his attempt to rise, sprawling him back to the ground spread-eagle on the tile.
“Let him go, Ranko,” Kayo pleaded, but Ranko ignored her. She had seen Kayo slowly recede from her own life for weeks, and now that her captain understood why, she would see it resolved.
Unsatisfied with the lesson she’d taught Kayo’s boyfriend, Ranko continued throwing kick after kick into the recumbent boy’s midsection, punctuating every few words with another sharp strike of her school sneaker into his torso as he curled up on the floor to protect his ribs. “I think you’re probably gonna want to split up with him, Kayo. He’s definitely not your type. You’re way too strong and way too cool for a loser like him!”
Leaving Kazushi in the fetal position on the floor, Ranko turned back to Kayo. “Come on, Kayo. Let’s get you out of here and get you some ice for your face.” She rested her hand gently on her still-crying charge’s back. Kayo shrunk from her somewhat, but did not resist her touch.
“This isn’t over, you bitch!”
Ranko patted her friend on the back softly. “Hold that thought, Kayo, just for one more second.” She turned, closing the few steps back to the cursing boy who had yet to fully make it off of his knees.
“Oh, I think it is. See, ‘cause here’s the thing, Kazushi. I know exactly how boys like you think, and what’s really important to you.”
“Yeah?” The black-haired boy staggered to his feet, taking a wobbly fighting stance. “And what’s that?”
Ranko grinned. Oh, you want a real fight? You’re fucking adorable. “Here, probably best for me to just show you.” She took no stance of her own; rather, she just flashed him a mocking sneer and crossed her arms over her breasts smugly.
The enraged junior roared as he made an undisciplined charge at her, but made it no further than three steps before crumpling back to the ground in a ball with an agonized howl.
“Those,” Ranko spat, as she pulled her left foot back from between his legs. “And if you don’t want to me to feed them to you, you will never speak to Kayo again. Do we have ourselves an understanding, or do I need to explain it again?”
Receiving a weak nod in reply, Ranko turned, placing a supportive hand on her friend’s back again as she scooped her satchel from the floor. “Let’s get outta here, honey. Leave this trash for the janitor.”
