Work Text:
Kanamori was going to be late for dinner.
She paced around the hallway outside her 7th year classroom, agitated, circling about and glaring at the floor. The very last stragglers from the last of the after-school clubs all gave her a wide berth and nervous looks as they passed by, eager to get home without incurring Kanamori’s wrath.
To that effect she shot an intimidating glance at a passing trio of girls, who’d been giggling about something. They were carrying tennis rackets and jabbing each other with them. She directed her irritation at them just to prove that she could.
All three of them went dead silent under her stare. They scuttled to the other side of the hallway like she was a dangerous animal. She scowled after them, simply for the sake of scowling.
By now she was starting to consider the possibility that Asakusa had probably gotten distracted by something. Maybe she’d seen a weird car or a building she just had to draw, or she’d had an idea and sat down to hash it out somewhere without a clock or anyone to hold her accountable.
Kanamori was going to be really late. Her train home was less frequent in the evening. Once an hour. Her mother would scold her, clearly, but it was really dinner that she was concerned about. It would be cold. She was nervous, even.
She clenched and unclenched her hands. 18:04.
When Kanamori had first started waiting, she’d set her new backpack down next to the wall. The sneaker one. She was fond of the thing, and Asakusa had been very impressed by it.
Kanamori unzipped it and fished her phone out. It was buried under a layer of incomplete math worksheets and it made her wince to look at them.
No new texts. From anybody.
She considered texting Asakusa, but the likelihood of her having charged her phone was always low. She sighed, and sent one off anyways. 18:10.
Where are you. –K
And one to her mother, for good measure.
Will be home late. No one died. Sorry. –Sayaka
It was 18:15 now. No response.
Her train was leaving at 18:40. Accounting for transit from school to the station, Kanamori would have roughly forty-five minutes in which to find Asakusa. She pulled up a mental list of possible locations.
It occurred to Kanamori that at least an hour had previously passed without even the slightest thought of leaving her behind and going home alone.
She hitched up her backpack and set off towards the roof. She would work her way down.
Nothing on the roof. Check.
Nothing on the fourth-floor balcony that overlooked the river. Check.
Nothing near the third-floor classroom with the weird exposed pipes. Check.
Nothing near the sad little concrete fountain in the courtyard, nor the third-floor balcony from which it was visible. Check.
Reaching the second floor, Kanamori diverted to the girls’ bathroom in hopes of clearing her head. She avoided it during the day, but it would probably be empty by now.
She stepped in, her sneakers squeaking on the tiles as a refreshing rush of cold air and cleaning product smells hit her.
The second thing that hit her was the sound of someone sobbing very loudly in one of the stalls.
Kanamori’s gut roiled. It was a possibility, but not one she liked at all.
She leaned over to check and saw a pair of green and blue light-up shoes that hung a half inch above the tiles, socks with rabbits on them, and two twiggy legs that disappeared behind the door. Fidgeting, shifting one in front of the other, back and forth.
Kanamori did not like that at all.
“Asakusa-shi,” Kanamori called, “I’m going to the station now, are you coming?”
“O-oh! Gimme a minute,”Asakusa said, voice quivering, “you should go without me, though, if y-you’re late.”
That ship had very much sailed.
“What’s going on?” Kanamori asked. She thought about knocking on the stall door, but couldn’t quite bring herself to. Instead, she leaned on a nearby sink, settling in for some kind of conversation. She tapped her fingers in a monotone rhythm on the porcelain.
Asakusa didn’t answer, but she could hear her breathing; heaving, uneven breaths, like her lungs were arguing with her.
“I’m not leaving,” Kanamori said.
If she elaborated any further, she’d say something stupid.
Asakusa said something incoherent. She kept breathing weird.
Kanamori swore under breath, finally somehow bringing herself to gently rap her knuckles on the door.
One.
Two.
A third, much quieter knock.
“Can I come in there?” Kanamori asked, but nothing in her tone indicated that it was really a question.
More weird breathing. She heard some metallic clicks as Asakusa fumbled with the latch.
“Are you—“ Kanamori started, and then promptly snapped her mouth shut.
Asakusa looked like very much like she had been punched in the face. Hard and recently. She had the beginning of a black eye, a split lip, the bleary look of somebody whose eyes were still shifting back into place.
Kanamori noted, also, the dirty imprints of tennis shoes on her shirt.
“It’s stupid. It’s r-real, really stupid,” Asakusa said, bringing her breathing under control a little, “it’s nothing I can’t, uh, handle. I just feel dumb about this whole thing. I should have…I dunno. I dunno.”
Kanamori made sustained eye contact with Asakusa for a second. She didn’t know if the boiling, acid anger in her chest was clear on her face. She hoped not, because it wouldn’t be helpful at all if it was.
Kanamori set her backpack down on the floor, more to indicate that she wasn’t leaving than anything. Asakusa just looked down at her lap.
Kanamori walked back over to the sink. She took a handkerchief out of her pocket and soaked it with cold water. It wasn’t cold enough, really, but it would do.
She folded it up into a little square and handed it to Asakusa, who just looked befuddled.
“Put it over your eye,” Kanamori said, “the messed up one.”
Asakusa took the handkerchief, and Kanamori felt the violent trembling of her hands.
Asakusa pressed it between her bad eye and the bridge of her nose. She didn’t say thanks, or anything; her good eye was distant and unfocused.
“…They took my rabbit.”
Kanamori blinked.
“What?”
“I dunno what they did with her,” Asakusa’s eyes started welling up with tears again, “I asked them to give her back and they kicked me and stuff. I don’t know why. It was just—”
“It’s because they’re assholes.” Kanamori said, practically snarling in spite of herself.
She knew how these people thought, which was really not at all. The out group, the wrong sorts of people, they were oddities to be avoided at best; punching bags, people to laugh at. Things to project upon.
Asakusa was kind of an easy target, for teachers and students alike. She struggled with classwork, struggled to talk to people, and carried that rabbit everywhere no matter how many times she was told to leave it at home. She was always scribbling things in her sketchbook and never showed it to anyone. For someone so quiet, she kept having attention drawn to her, more scrutiny, and in Kanamori’s experience that was never good.
Before she’d gotten taller and everything made her meaner, she’d been in Asakusa’s position, sort of. She didn’t cry much and the bathroom had been different.
The course of action was clear.
“Do you know them? Did you get a good look at them?” Kanamori asked.
Asakusa clammed up.
“C’mon,” Kanamori prompted, “anything.”
Asakusa hesitated. Drew back a little.
By now, Asakusa knew what Kanamori was capable of. In theory. She’d never really seen her do it. She looked like she was debating between doing nothing and the nuclear option of siccing Kanamori on her assailants.
Kanamori did like being someone’s nuclear option.
“Don’t know their names. I think they’re from the tennis club. Th-they’re in our class.”
While she had simply scared them because they were there and she was annoyed, Kanamori had a strong inkling as to who the culprits might be.
All information is useful information.
“Please don’t tell a teacher, or anything,” Asakusa pleaded, “I can’t get in trouble again, for getting into a fight, you know?”
“Bold of you to assume that.” Kanamori cracked her knuckles.
A look, perhaps one of nervous admiration, passed over Asakusa’s face.
“Oh,” she said.
“I’ll walk you to the station,” Kanamori said, putting her backpack on, slinging Asakusa’s messenger bag over her shoulder, “My train is in ten minutes. I think yours is in fifteen. We’ll probably make it if we leave now.”
“Okay.”
Asakusa grasped onto the hem of Kanamori’s shirt, like she would get lost if she didn’t have something to hold onto. Kanamori didn’t stop her.
They didn’t talk at all on the way to the station. They didn’t talk while they waited for their trains (which were absurdly late, by Kanamori’s calculations) and Asakusa still hadn’t let go. Maybe Kanamori was the rabbit.
Asakusa’s train pulled up first. She said something, very quietly, as she let go of Kanamori’s shirt.
“I do fall out of trees a lot. I think they’ll believe that.”
--
Kanamori stood outside the tennis court, just after sunrise on a Sunday morning. She hadn’t bothered to dress for the occasion, because they weren’t worth it, and had just thrown on a sweatshirt over her uniform. She was in a foul mood already, but she was rarely up this early. She’d also spent much of the night searching up names online, looking through sports records, eating cold soup. An interesting way to end the week.
It hadn’t been too hard to find dirt on these girls. They were clearly idiots who couldn’t keep their mouths shut.
She’d taken the first train over, just to be certain she’d get there first. The tennis club had morning practice on Sundays.
Kanamori cracked her knuckles. The motion was always satisfying, and had the added benefit of scaring people.
She saw a group of girls coming out around the corner; all of the girls she’d seen the day before were there, plus a few more. They were laughing and griping about having to be up so early, challenging each other, generally talking too much for Kanamori’s liking.
This tended to be easier with an audience.
“Good morning,” Kanamori called. She put on her most polite, threatening tone.
None of them said anything. One of them waved awkwardly at her.
“I said, ‘good morning’.” Kanamori cracked her knuckles and watched them all flinch.
“G-good morning, Kanamori-san,” one of the girls spoke up. She was one of the ones from the day before. Tanaka. The loudest of the bunch.
“Tanaka-san, Ito-san, Kobayashi-san,” Kanamori nodded at each of them in turn.
There were times when Kanamori was glad her reputation preceded her. It was useful. She felt very much in her element now.
“Can we, uh help you with something?” Ito asked, a little bolder than the others.
“Actually, you can,” Kanamori said, moving towards the group like a lion towards a herd of antelope, “I’m looking for something I lost yesterday. Wondering if you’d seen it. It’s a stuffed rabbit, about this—“ Kanamori gestured the size of the thing, a couple inches, “—big, yellowish. If you have any information, I would appreciate it.”
She smiled at them, which she had come to understand many people did not like.
“What?” one of the other girls asked. Kanamori loved a good bystander.
“No idea what you’re talking about,” Tanaka said, stepping backwards nervously.
“Hm. How did you do in the regionals, by the way? I was going to ask the coach about it.”
It was generally not a good idea to brag about sabotaging your competitors online. Really, it reflected badly on the whole club as far as Kanamori was concerned.
“Are you serious?” Kobayashi scoffed.
“Oh my god,” Ito said, and the other girls all looked at each other in confusion. Tanaka pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Son of a…”
“Seriously? Who do you even…”
Kanamori smiled again.
Gloves off.
She naturally towered over the group of girls, but she made a point to tower over them even more. She stood on the balls of her feet and cast a long, rectangular shadow over the group.
“I would suggest that, if you know anything, you get back to me as soon as possible, hm?” Kanamori slapped a hand down on Tanaka’s shoulder, loudly and rudely, while her tone remained cordial, “I don’t have all day.”
Blackmail made things simple. It wouldn’t do to beat the tar out of these girls in broad daylight, with witnesses. But for once, she really wanted to.
Making it about the rabbit was letting them off easy.
“I think…uhm…” Ito piped up, “We can help you look. B-before practice.”
“What? Practice is in like ten minutes, you guys. What are you—“
“Fine,” Tanaka snarled, “we’ll help you look. For your rabbit toy.”
“You certainly will.”
--
Kanamori leaned up against a cold, concrete wall, chewing gum, watching as the trio of girls frantically dug through a dumpster.
This was, to put it mildly, fun to watch.
Moreover, they’d all been knee deep in garbage long enough to be late for practice. Kanamori knew their coach was not the type of woman who was understanding about tardiness. (Or cheating.)
“Here it is! The stupid thing,” Tanaka yelled. She threw the rabbit on the ground, a few feet from Kanamori.
“Thank you.” Kanamori said. She leaned down, picked the rabbit up, and dusted it off.
It was filthy, and smelled terrible, and Its head had come unstitched; it lolled to the side and some of its stuffing had clearly fallen out. She scowled at it. Not ideal.
The girls scurried away, cursing loudly. Calling her names, and worse. She watched them disappear around the corner. She spit her gum out into the dumpster, in their general direction.
Kanamori wrapped the filthy little thing up in her handkerchief and stowed it in her bag.
Mission accomplished.
But she didn’t feel done here.
--
She hadn’t considered that the rabbit would be in such a sorry state.
It really shouldn’t have mattered; she was sure Asakusa would be glad to have it back, no matter shape it was in.
It didn’t sit right with her, though. It felt like the job wasn’t complete.
Kanamori turned the rabbit over in her hands. Waggled its almost entirely detached head back and forth like a hinge.
Kanamori sighed. She’d have to make a trip to the corner store. Factoring in labor, research, and materials, this would be an expensive undertaking.
So Asakusa had better be impressed.
Kanamori couldn’t find thread in the right color. The corner store just had a little patch kit for reattaching buttons and so on, and it came with pink thread for some reason. She had no idea where one might buy actual sewing supplies, nor did she know how to sew. On the brief train ride over to the laundromat, she searched up guides on her phone; she’d have it figured out. Simple enough.
Kanamori tossed her sweatshirt and handkerchief in the wash with the rabbit, because there were some old ladies there and she felt self-conscious.
Cold. Delicates. Insert coins.
While she waited, she practiced stitches with the bits of cloth that came in the kit. The old ladies stared at her and whispered.
But really, she didn’t have the energy left to worry about it. She concentrated stubbornly on the stitches. The washer went off and she moved her things over.
Kanamori barely noticed the passage of time; it was already afternoon, but she’d slept so little that the whole day was a very long blur. She was concentrating so hard that she practically jumped out of her seat when her phone went off.
do yuo wanna come to myhouse later
Asakusa texting her first was really something else.
Kanamori heard the dryer go off.
Yes. Finishing up, will come by soon. –K
Kanamori’s stitches were still clumsy, and she couldn’t find any cotton stuffing. She cut off a corner of her handkerchief and stuffed it into the rabbit’s head, and that seemed to restore its original shape; she hoped Asakusa wouldn’t notice. But she probably would.
As Kanamori tied up the seam, she noticed those women were still looking at her. She really didn’t have the energy for more of this today.
So Kanamori looked up to give the old ladies a toothy smile, which they most assuredly did not like.
--
Walking up to Asakusa’s apartment complex, Kanamori had the unfamiliar sensation of losing her nerve. In fact, it was almost gone by the time she could look up and see Asakusa’s front door.
It felt strange to doubt herself anyways, but doubting herself at this point was absurd.
Would Asakusa be weirded out that she went through all that trouble? Was that coming on too strong, or something?
There was no backing out now. She’d committed to it. All her vindictive energy had dried up, and now there was just—
“Hey, Kanamori-shi!” Asakusa yelled, waving at Kanamori from the balcony. She was holding an ice pack over her black eye. The door opened up behind her, and Asakusa turned around and had a brief exchange with somebody that Kanamori couldn’t see.
“I’ll come down,” Asakusa yelled again.
“Kay,” Kanamori said, much too quietly for Asakusa to have heard her.
Kanamori looked down at her feet. She hadn’t realized she was shuffling them anxiously.
She heard the beep and thump of the gate opening. Asakusa emerged, wearing a baggy green ink-stained shirt and pajama pants. She’d ditched the ice pack somewhere on the way down, but her eye looked terrible. Kanamori winced at the sight of it.
Asakusa stopped a couple feet away, more than arm’s length, like she’d been meaning to come closer but stopped herself. She gnawed at the uninjured side of her lip.
“I wanted to, uh, apologize for yesterday. I know that was weird. And I’m sorry for being so, uh…weird about m-my rabbit,” Asakusa said, “it’s just a thing. I mean, I like it, but it’s just a thing.”
They just stood there, awkwardly.
“I know that it’s…dumb,” Asakusa trailed off.
Kanamori didn’t know how to respond. She’d been rehearsing a million things she might say, and she couldn’t remember a single one of them.
Being quiet now was extremely unhelpful, to both of them. She swallowed.
Now or never.
Wordlessly, Kanamori reached into her backpack, dug around for a moment, and pulled out the rabbit.
She held out in front of her, arm fully extended. She may have shoved it rather suddenly into Asakusa’s face.
“Here.”
Kanamori’s cheeks felt hot.
Asakusa stared. Dumbfounded. Kanamori saw her looking at the clumsy pink stitches along the rabbit’s neck; saw her one good eye widened in surprise.
“Just take it.”
Asakusa took it. Kanamori scratched the back of her head and glared at a building directly to her left. All the adrenaline had worn off, and now she just wanted to crawl in a hole.
Asakusa pressed the rabbit to her face, as she often did. She was smelling it, or kissing it, or something.
Kanamori realized that she could probably smell the detergent. That was another nail in Kanamori’s coffin.
“Kanamori-shi…”
Asakusa threw her arms around Kanamori, and she squeezed her so tightly that she knocked the wind right out of her. Or maybe Kanamori just forgot how to breathe. She felt Asakusa burying her face in her sweatshirt.
They had only been friends for less than a year. And Kanamori had never really had friends, and didn’t know the rules. She assumed friends hugged each other, and maybe it always felt like this. Nervous and exposed.
Asakusa’s speech was muffled; Kanamori wouldn’t even have been able to parse what she was saying if she didn’t feel the vibrations of her voice against her chest.
“Th-thank you so mucchhh, Kanamori-shi, I don’t know how to like, thank you, or pay you back, or anything—“ Asakusa started blubbering, and looked up at Kanamori with watery eyes.
“S’fine,” Kanamori mumbled, looking away again. She wanted to say something less pathetic but was finding it difficult.
And they just stood there, only a little awkwardly, not saying anything. Asakusa didn’t let go and Kanamori didn’t try to disentangle herself. Kanamori’s face was unbearably warm.
A haggard man laden with groceries walked past, squinting at them. Kanamori grew self-conscious again, and so did Asakusa, and they separated. Asakusa seemed to come back to herself and stiffened, her face a little bit red.
Too much scrutiny, again.
Asakusa cleared her throat. She looked at Kanamori with that sheepish face she always made right before launching into an unfunny joke.
“Anyways,” she said, holding up the rabbit and making it do a little bow, “we are eternally in your debt.”
“I’ll make sure collect on that,” Kanamori responded, deadpan.
She smiled at Asakusa; it was a real smile, or an attempt at one.
Asakusa smiled back at her.
“She’s a stone-cold killer,” Asakusa laughed, waving the rabbit in Kanamori’s face as if it was attacking her. She bumped its nose against Kanamori’s cheek.
Kanamori bared her teeth and shoved Asakusa away. Her hand stayed on Asakusa’s shoulder for a few seconds longer than necessary.
“Oh, knock it off. Dork,” Kanamori growled.
Asakusa snickered. She turned back towards the gate and gestured for Kanamori to follow.
“Wanna come in? I think we’ve got some curry left over, or something.”
“Better be a lot,” Kanamori said, following right behind her.
Who knows if they’d ever talk about this again; at least not today.
Maybe never.
Still, Kanamori felt very proud of herself.