Late Winter's Spring Flower (1)
“Yeah. Thanks.” I obediently folded Belica's notes and opened Ronari's. And started copying from it. This one was definitely easier on the eyes and quicker to jot down. Just the essentials, with key caveats neatly annotated. No wonder she was top of the year.
Ronari fetched her own study stuff and plopped down across from me. “Well, nothing better to do.” Even as she buried herself in her books, she kept sneaking suspicious glances my way. But soon enough, her top-student focus kicked in. Ronari stopped peeking and dove into her reading. We sat there in silence, heads down, just studying. One hour. Two. After a good while, I stretched and stood.
Ronari looked up at me. “?”
“Gonna hit the room quick. Curfew's coming up.”
“Ah.”
Time to boot Belica out. I left the kitchen and stepped into the bedroom. Total disaster inside, and yep—Belica was out cold, clutching my pillow.
“Wake up, you little demon.” I pinched her cheek.
“Ow...”
“Get up.”
No matter how hard I pinched, she wasn't budging. Slap her awake? I raised my hand with that in mind—then suddenly, she yanked my arm hard.
“Whoa.”
Caught off guard, I toppled right onto her. I twisted mid-fall to keep our faces from smashing together. Still ended up pinning her down, though. A familiar scent wafted from her nape, rolling over me like soft waves.
“Kyaa... Pervert. Beast. Mercy...” Belica mumbled nonsense in her sleepy voice.
“What. You were awake?”
She whispered back, almost a breath. “Who do you think woke me...? Pinching like a maniac—how could I sleep through that?”
“Awake? Then go home. Let go.”
Belica just hugged tighter.
“You talked about me with the young miss.”
“Knew it.”
“What'd you say? She ask what we are?”
I let out a deep sigh. “Yeah.”
“And?”
“Just...”
“I know. 'Nothing special,' right.”
“...Heard it all, why ask?”
Belica finally eased her grip. I slowly pushed up off her. But her arms stayed looped around my neck, leaving me hovering half-collapsed over her. Then she said my name.
“Ilsea.”
“What.”
She looked up at me. “...Are we really nothing?”
I stared down at Belica. My eyes naturally drifted to her slightly parted lips. Faint breaths. Her gaze met mine, somehow misty, before she shut her eyes.
...No choice. I slipped a hand under her. Pinched the soft inside of her thigh.
Scream exploded. “Aaack! Ack! N-not there! Anywhere but there!”
I didn't let the wicked brat off. “That's why quit messing around! Up! Back to your dorm!”
“S-sorry! I'm sorry already! Eeeeek!”
I grabbed her by the scruff amid the flailing and dragged her out. Ronari had come to the living room, staring wide-eyed.
“W-what happened?!”
“This pest wouldn't budge, so I disciplined her a bit. Ignore it.” One hand on Belica, I dumped her scattered bag on the kitchen table and crammed her junk inside.
“Ughhhh...”
I shoved it into her groaning arms. “Now beat it.”
Thud, thud.
Right then, an odd rustle outside the front door. Everyone's eyes snapped there. The door flew open.
And there stood Ruda, our homeroom teacher.
“Knew you'd be here.”
Ruda popped up with a creepy grin. Belica flinched hard.
“Eek, Ruda's here.”
Ruda marched over, pinched Belica's cheek. “Which rude punk calls their homeroom prof by name?”
“Aaaaaah! Ripping! It's ripping off!”
“To your room!”
Belica got hauled out in seconds. No chance to step in. Not that I would've.
I helped her out, thoughhhh!
Belica's wail echoed from down the hall. Curfew must've hit. And of course, Ruda was on patrol tonight. Should've groveled for mercy on sight.
Ronari stared at the gaping door, muttering, “Bel... she gonna be okay?”
Caught by Ruda? Fat chance. I shut my eyes a sec, prayed for her peace.
But my turn came quick. Ruda's voice boomed from outside.
Come out here. Ilsea Alerzar.
...Here goes. I accepted fate quietly, stepped out, and shut the door. Just Ruda there. Belica already dust?
She lounged against the wall, casual as ever, tossing back her long hair. “Heard from Bel? Skipped last pre-break class—you're toast. And those morning skips lately. No mercy.”
“Couldn't be helped. One-time pass?”
Ruda eyed me, pissed. Sighed like no choice. “...Hmph. Grades holding. Off the hook—this time.”
“Grateful for the leniency.”
I bowed to her mercy. Handy, her results-only vibe. Belica'd be toast without ranking scores too.
“But lay a finger on our Ronari? You're dead. No begging. Got it?”
Ronari was class top, so yeah, Ruda's pet.
“Zero chance, but if? Neck's yours.”
“Damn right. Even a whiff, and you're powder.”
Ruda dropped the brutal warning and bounced. Turbulent Friday finally winding down.
......
Survived even Belica's raid. Weekend at last. Teresa said rest up. No Belica—probably stuck in makeup classes with Ruda. Note quiz bombed, no doubt.
Peace at last.
I was brewing tea in the kitchen. Dropped leaves in hot water; soon, fragrant steam rose. Poured into a tin cup from the cabinet.
“Whoa, smells amazing.”
Ronari, fresh from her room. Outfit screamed outing: flawless makeup, fully armored look. Like my sister's pre-date getup. Battle-ready for someone worth impressing. Whatever it was, not my circus.
“Didn't peg you for tea. Doesn't suit.”
“Know. Sis sent leaves from home. Just trying.”
Ronari blinked, surprised. “Ugh, sorry... didn't know family gift. Wait—you got a sister?”
“Yeah. Studious type. Proper. Opposite of me.”
“Good. Then watch yourself? Won't forgive dragging down a good girl.”
She headed to the door, swapped shoes. “Might run late. Out with half the girls from class.”
“Got it.”
Academy weekends? Free rein. Normal stuff.
“Thought you'd be out stirring shit. Weird you're home. Delinquent hoodlum.”
“Not a delinquent.”
“Then hoodlum fits. Anyway, heading out. Stay good?”
Ronari vanished.
Stay good? Like I'm some brat or house dog. Zero plans to obey. Got my own errands. Magic beast gear due for fixes. Teresa swaps worn stuff, but costs cash. Fix what I can, peace of mind.
Time to roll. After this tea. Gulped the rest. Fresh grass and fruit burst on my tongue.
......
City streets after forever—eyes felt clearer, freed from academy and sewers. Winter by calendar, but trees already greening with buds. Streets buzzed, folks milling. Crowds grated, but bearable.
Destination? Far from chill. Ducked big roads for alleys, crossed empty narrows. Eighth one in, quiet shattered—bam, chaos.
Slum backstreets. Loud, filthy, packed. My nightmare spot. But perfect for tight wallet.
Scanned. First visit since New Year's—layout fuzzy. First stop... yeah, this way.
......
“Clang! Only I take scrap like this! Ungrateful punk—34 shillings? Just mug me!”
The old tanner snatched my wand, griping loud. I chuckled dryly. “You forgot my face first, tried ripping me off.”
“Just a welcome joke! Only academy rat down here—how forget that mug?”
“Thanks anyway.”
“Grateful? Scram! Shoo! Back in two and a half hours!”
Handed off the wand—grips shredded from beast runs—and bailed. Cheap fix, lucky. Hit a few shops, sun already noon-high. Tea for breakfast; stomach rumbling.
Left repair row for wider alley. Food stalls that way? Grub iffy, but ripe fruit'd do. Crossing street—far off, total mismatch: vibrant splash in drab winter muck. Spring in the sludge. Couldn't miss. Felt familiar, but why here? Drew closer.
Yup. Ronari Sharino. Bent over a stall, eyeing wares.