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Her pigtails almost brushed against the floor, ghosting barely a foot away from the dirt and scum of the concrete walkway.
They bounced just slightly with her stride, brushing against her side as they swayed, tickling at Raibaru’s arm as she walked to her right, speaking animatedly to her as Osana brushed a pink-painted nail through the long strands absentmindedly.
The gesture spurred Ayano to think of her gentle touch, the delicate gestures she tried to hide away with her loud persona; like a hedgehog, or perhaps more fittingly a stray cat, back arched and hair stood on its ends, hissing and slit-eyed, only revealing its belly upon enough gentle attention and care- a revelation of her true nature, sweet and soft-hearted, and all hers, soon enough.
Osana turned, looking past Raibaru, a smile flashing on her face just briefly before being replaced by the faux-annoyed expression that she found so familiar on her, another tenant of her guarded persona, though this one was reserved for one specific person.
Ayano felt the urge to scowl as he approached her.
Taro Yamada, Osana’s childhood friend and- she scrunched her nose at the thought, crush, walking casually over, just as mundanely as everything about him- his looks, personality, grades, aspirations; bland, almost absurdly so, as if everything about him had been carefully curated to be as neutral as possible.
Osana deserved better than this boy.
She deserved better than any boy.
She slowed her stride to match Osana’s, tailing a few metres back and shrouded by a handful of miscellaneous students, though she almost tripped over herself seeing Taro put his hand on Osana’s shoulder as he greeted her, watching the faint tracing of blush appear on her cheeks, ears pink.
Ayano wanted to kill him- dunk him in acid or saw his arms off, bash in his skull with a mallet or twist his femur bone until it snapped; or maybe she would keep him alive, suffering just as she did seeing the two of them together, force him to feel even a mili-fraction of the agony he inflicted upon her in his naive arrogance.
It would only be fair.
Osana brushed him off, slapping at his arm with a quick backhand and he jerked his hand back, but he didn’t seem too surprised- par for the course with her, familiar; Ayano knew this all too well, this persistent back-and-forth that made up their relationship- a performance neither of them seemed willing to break past, well-coordinated over the years of their friendship.
Trapped in their routine, they didn’t notice the obstruction in their way until it was too late.
It happened so quickly- A rock, a pebble, or something equally insignificant in just the right place to trip Taro as he spoke, unaware of his surroundings- his walk stuttering as he attempted to right himself, the hand still hovering at Osana’s shoulder jerking, pushing her forward as she stumbled, falling with a hard ‘thump’.
Ayano stopped.
Osana shrieked- calling the attention of the few students walking in their vicinity, though most turned away in disinterest after a few moments- Ayano couldn’t even glare at them as she stood fixated on her.
On her hair.
Spread around her as she landed on her knees, completely tainted; the gunk and dust and residue of dozens of students walking ahead of her getting caught in its carefully maintained strands, the sunset-orange tinted with a grey-brown, tangling itself into her hair.
Her hair, that was now dirtied.
By him.
Taro, who was standing unsteadily just a foot away from her, looking shocked like it wasn’t all his fault, hand pulled quickly back to his side like her touch burned.
She truly despised him.
Osana didn’t seem to share the sentiment, but the surprise on her face was clear as day, tinged with a slight bit of disgust at the state of herself. Ayano hated how he made her feel- self conscious, reluctant, dirty; she would never do that to her, she promised herself.
Her voice rang out, slightly shaky from the shock before quickly evening out, her mask of arrogance and anger quickly shielding herself.
“God, Senpai! You’re such a klutz sometimes!”
He wrung his hand around the back of his neck, shrinking into himself as his feet shuffled in embarrassment.
“Ah, I’m sorry…”
Osana sighed, over-exaggerated faux indignation as she began to right herself, rising from her knees.
“Sorry’s not always gonna cut it, y’know!”
She looked at him then, his expression, before glancing quickly down, blush re-tinting her cheeks.
“I… whatever! Look, if you want to make it up to me, meet me on the roof for lunch, OK?”
“But… we eat lunch together everyday anyways?”
She stood fully now, and flicked his forehead with one hand, the other righting itself on her hip.
“Don’t be a pain, Senpai! Just do it, alright?”
He didn’t speak immediately, but nodded, demure smile returning to his face.
“Ok, Osana. I’ll see you at lunch, then.”
He looked to the school building, and began to walk away, granting a small wave towards the girls before turning fully, leaving.
As if all was forgiven, that he’d done nothing.
He’d pay, soon enough- for all the transgressions Osana was too kind to punish, to reprimand; she’d make sure of it.
She watched his back retreat into the smattering of students, his easy stride, and dangerous thoughts began to surface before she quickly righted herself, refusing to be distracted by that boy when Osana was still injured, and turned her gaze back to her right when Raibaru spoke, evidently having been more focused on helping Osana tidy her uniform than the state of her hair.
“Ah- your hair! It got all dirty…”
It seemed only then that Osana noticed, hands raising to pat away the dust, long strands tangling over her fingers as she groaned.
“Sheesh… what a mess.”
Ayano wanted to go to her then, unbearably so, run her fingers through the locks and brush until they were smooth and clean and perfect, just in the way Osana always kept them, just the way she liked it.
At least, until Raibaru spoke again, wide eyes curious.
“I mean, really, why do you keep it so long, Osana?”
Osana’s face flushed fully now, still lingering pink from earlier. Ayano felt a pit grow in her stomach, anticipatory dread beginning to pool, but she couldn’t place why, not yet.
“Well… I made a promise to myself, not to cut it, not until…”
A pause.
“Senpai realised how I felt…”
She blurted out the latter half of her sentence quickly, half-hushed, hand to her cheek in a weak attempt to conceal her flushing cheeks.
She looked to the school entrance, eyes locking onto the fuzzy silhouette of Taro at his locker, and determination returned to her voice.
“But, y’know, it’s hard, having it at this length; which is why… I’m going to confess, this Friday… under the cherry tree.”
Osana looked down, shy. Raibaru brightened, if stiffly. Ayano blanked.
“Oh, Osana! That’s so sweet! I had no idea!” She hugged her, then, and Ayano’s mind ran almost immediately, shock and longing and despair quickly overrun by an anger so bone-deep she’d have thought it been lingering years, though considering her condition it very well may have been.
It was all for him.
It wasn’t the dirt, or dust, or grime, it had been dirtied all along- all that care, the love and tenderness and gentleness reserved only for herself were truly, for years now, all dedicated to him- what Ayano loved so much, what she longed to see every day, was all done in a conscious effort to connect to him, a physical representation of the relationship that was about to ruin her life.
And that wouldn’t do.
Not one bit.
And as she watched Osana finish sweeping dust off her skirt and beginning her trek to class, she stood back, opting instead to unlock her phone and navigate to a particular app, Info-chan’s colour-blocked face quickly covered by her thumb as she tapped it, beginning her text exchange.
“I need some help.”
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
As Ayano watched the singed ends of Osana’s hair crumble into themselves, damp and dripping, she felt the urge to smile, just barely holding herself back.
It was odd, suppressing emotions. She’d never known what it was to truly experience them, every showing simply a practised reflection of others, a mask she’d taught herself to fit in- so now, to truly experience them, it was peculiar- she found herself smiling, or crying, or laughing without even realising, emotions still unfamiliar and overwhelming- something she was excited to explore with Osana.
Osana, who’s shaking just a few steps away from her, trembling hands grasping at the now loose, uneven strands of hair, glaring at Taro, breathing heavily as she eyes the candle-holder in his hand, similarly shaking as he looks down at her, eyes wide, mouth open in a dumb gasp.
Neither spoke, Taro in a stunned petrification, Osana in a quickly boiling anger, eyes sharp as she clenched at the hair now falling apart in her hands, the smell of chemicals and soot overwhelming the hallway and bringing tears to her face. (Or perhaps it was due to the trauma of being set partially on fire. anyone’s guess.)
She sputtered before she spoke, hands clammy and bunched so tightly into themselves her knuckles went white.
“Y-you… why would you…” She looked away from him, as if her stare was too intense even for herself. “What… What did you do this for? Is this some kind of joke?”
She looked back up and the tears that were beading were now flowing, her teeth clenched in a grimace.
Ayano wanted to kiss her, then, at the thin lines of tears marring her cheeks and her lips, thinned by her expression, until they calmed and reciprocated and she forgot everything he’d done to her, if only for a moment.
She was so close, now, closer than they’d ever been, and she really could’ve done it, but she knew she needed to wait, have patience- she’d held out this long, she could manage a few more weeks, even if they were near-torturous without her presence.
Osana would be hers, soon enough- she knew that for sure. But for now, she was content to watch the dissolution of the relationship between her and Taro.
Taro, who finally spoke, shaky and weak.
“O- Osana, I- I had no idea, really! I didn’t mean to… I don’t even know how…”
Of course he didn’t know- Ayano was the one to set this all up, after all.
Well, her and Info-chan, but the idea was all hers- Info-chan simply followed her orders, (in exchange for some rather unsavory favours; But it had all gone so perfectly she couldn’t find it in herself to care.) and through some blackmail and inconspicuous herding, it had all gone smoothly, almost suspiciously so.
All it took was some particular timing and human components.
Raibaru was the first and most obvious obstacle, yet it only took a phone call to get rid of her, something about a ‘family emergency’ having her leave class early and head home for the rest of the day in a rushed panic.
Horuda was next, the most volatile component yet almost endearingly easily swayed- she was so malleable, so fragile through her solitude she’d believe anything Ayano told her, and if she told her that Taro was the one behind her rampant harassment, then she’d do anything to take him down- violent things, fatal things, to the point Ayano had to lead her to a more ‘pacifist’ route, convincing her the ruin of his psyche much more satisfying than simply killing him, at least for now- It wouldn’t do to have him die just yet, leave Osana in mourning for someone entirely undeserving; all she would have to do was trip him.
She had this unsatisfied look, but agreed quietly, moving to lean against the wall beside the maintenance closet, foot jerky as she anticipated Taro’s approach, side-eyeing Osana who’d been turned away, typing on her phone a few metres from her.
The occult club member she’d ‘recruited,’ Kokuma, she thinks her name was, was difficult if only through her indifference- to the point she reminded Ayano of herself in a way, dangerous in her unconcern.
She didn’t ask questions when told what to do, didn’t even require the blackmail she’d paid for, just nodded, stone-faced as always as she held the candle in its holder, acknowledging the instructions with a hum before heading off to ‘pass the torch’ to Taro, telling her scripted tale of needed aid in a monotone stronger than Ayano’s own, asking him to deliver it to the occult club.
It was never intended to make it there.
After that, all it really took was proper coordination, ensuring the time was right, and of course, herself, being conveniently placed just where it would all go down, peeking behind the doorway of the maintenance closet, bucket on-hand ready to douse her, be the ‘hero’ Osana would cling to in the direct aftermath of her longtime friend betraying her, dissolving the physical connection she’d worked for years to build; and with Raibaru away for the day, it left Ayano the only one to comfort her, the one her psyche would bond to, inevitably.
And while yes, there was always the possibility of error, of true and severe burning of flesh and face, she was willing to take that risk, anything to solidify the ruination of her and Taro’s relationship; it could’ve even been beneficial, Osana having a constant, physical reminder of the betrayal, of the pain he’d inflicted upon her- his violent rejection; besides, the more severe the trauma, the stronger the bond she would form.
No matter, though- what was done had already been and it had gone so well she had no reason to ruminate on ‘what-if’s’, only to watch as the final bastions of Taro and Osana’s relationship fell.
The silence stretched on a few moments longer, the only breaking of sound being heavy footfalls of students who’d been caught in the moment running to alert a teacher- the sound seeming to have snapped Osana out of her daze.
“Just- just go, Taro.” She spat out like poison into the ground, still refusing to meet his eye.
He stood, feet uncertain, unsure of himself and eyes frantic as he looked at Osana. He opened his mouth, jaw gaping like a fish, unsightly, but closed it after a few moments of hesitation, regretful.
He looked desperate to speak to her, apologize and explain despite his innocence in the endeavor, but when he looked at the crown of Osana's head, at her consistent refusal of contact, he tensed and stepped back, again and again until he turned around, near-running away, and Ayano thought she heard a hitched sob, distant and growing further.
Good riddance.
A few moments after he left, after the squeaking of his shoes had diminished fully around the corner of the hall, Osana’s posture relaxed, and she raised her gaze.
She looked at Ayano, then, finally, and she thought she could feel her heart stop, slow hammering in her chest intensifying under her stare as Osana’s gaze moved from her face down to the bucket in her hands, water dripping down and splattered lightly against her top and skirt, hands wet.
She bowed quickly, though her knees seemed weak.
“Thank you, um…”
She looked up, and Ayano stilled, just for a moment before righting herself.
“Ayano, Aishi. It was no problem.” She raised her hands, a placating gesture- she wanted her to be as comfortable as possible- associate her with safety, with comfort and aid in Osana’s mind- plant the connection to root, to blossom.
“Are you alright? I could bring you to the nurse’s office.” Ayano reached a hand out, not extended far but enough to make the gesture evident.
“Ah, no- it’s alright, I’m OK.” Ayano deflated internally, the hot sweetness in her chest shifting sour before Osana spoke again.
“But, um, I appreciate it, seriously- here,” She reached into her bag, ignoring its half-drenched state and pulling out a small towel, kitten-patterned and pink, slightly damp but usable.
She held it out in both hands, looking up at her.
“It’s not much, but it should help, if only a little.” Ayano stood still, staring down at it before raising her gaze at Osana’s slight smile.
“You can keep it, it’s nothing important, really- it’s my fault you got wet, anyways.” She giggled, a try at normalcy despite her still shaking legs and goosebump-ridden skin.
She took it, as delicately as she could, and felt electric shocks travel up her arms and through her chest at the brush of skin-on-skin when her finger tapped against Osana’s palm.
She pulled back, a little too fast, clenching the towel in her hand. Osana didn’t seem to mind, though, perhaps too occupied with her own predicament, and she watched as her hands fumbled to close her bag, smoothing out her shirt in the process.
She realised she was staring barely a few seconds before Osana looked back up at her, heart racing at almost getting caught so close to her goal.
She’d be able to stare as much as she wanted soon, Ayano assured herself.
“Um, seriously, thanks again.” Osana looked down at herself properly and deflated, that sad look returning. “I should go home…”
She looked back up at Ayano who stiffened under her gaze, still sad but filled with something Ayano’d never seen directed towards herself before, unfamiliar- it made her feel warm.
“Bye, Ayano. See you at school tomorrow.”
Ayano couldn’t speak, simply nodding, a quick gesture but it seemed to please Osana as her eyes crinkled, granting her a small smile as she turned away, briskly walking in the direction of the lockers, notably opposite where Taro’d run off.
She could only stare after her as she clenched the towel, small droplets of water tapping against the linoleum floor in uneven increments.
As she heard the rapidly approaching clicks of heels, a teacher coming to assess the damage, she held the towel up to her chest, tight, almost burrowing into the pale skin beneath it. It was still soft, evidently only gently used.
She heard a gasp as the clicking stopped.
She’d see her tomorrow.
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The next morning, her hair was cut.
Ends evened out into a choppy cut just above the shoulders, side-bangs framing her face gently around the chin, bow remaining as always, askew atop her head.
She looked beautiful.
She walked, confident as usual, head held high and ignoring the students who stared, shocked at the sudden change, or perhaps for those ‘in the know’, surprised at her quick recovery.
Ayano watched from where she stood leaned against one of the trees lining the entrance, eyes following as Osana approached Raibar who had been standing in wait for her.
She seemed shocked at the sight of her, though the expression quickly turned to a joy as she registered the new look.
“Aw- Osana! You look amazing!”
She moved to comb her fingers through the short locks, smiling.
“You should’ve told me- We could’ve matched!” She teased and pulled an exaggerated pout, poking at Osana’s nose as she scrunched her eyes but nonetheless smiled.
She’d have to be next, Ayano assured herself. She knew Raibaru crushed on Osana- anyone with eyes could see it, really; anybody but Osana, evidently. Ironic how someone so irritated by an oblivious crush was one herself- not that it was any detriment to her, it was just in her nature to assume the best of others; Ayano loved that about her.
But still, she would have to get rid of her- lethally, ideally, given their bond was far too close to be lost over anything quite as petty as Osana and Taro’s.
Taro, who was now walking up as if summoned by the thought of himself.
Ayano watched as he almost missed Osana if not for spotting Raibaru by her side- he paused, stood perfectly to where he would block Ayano’s view, and he stalled just a moment as a contemplative look dawned on his face, a physical show of his longing to approach her, but then Osana looked at him, and were Ayano to be on the receiving end of her stare, sad and bitter, she’d truly crumble into herself- and it seemed Taro wasn’t much different, cringing as he backed away, bumping into a student to his back and mumbling a quick apology before darting off towards the entrance, unable to stand where Osana glared, just as she did last afternoon.
And similarly to then, Osana spotted her and her gaze softened- eyebrows relaxing before she turned to Raibaru, whose eyes looked to Ayano, scrunched over a small, quirked smile as they began whispering something quickly, a few moments later Osana pivoting back to Ayano, feet moving in her direction.
She approached her, same soft look in her eyes.
She waved just slightly as she stood a metre or-so away from her, foot tapping the other as she shifted her feet under her.
“Hi, Ayano!”
Smiling, she said her name.
“Uh, I just wanted to say, again, I really appreciate what you did, yesterday. I don’t know what could’ve happened if you weren’t there!” A slight giggle, more akin to an exhalation of air escaped her.
Ayano felt her cheeks go hot.
“It was no problem.”
Osana scoffed, though it wasn’t a very harsh sound.
“Maybe to you it wasn’t, but seriously, I could’ve died!”
Her initial shyness forgotten, she exaggerated physically, hands waving and drawing the attention of a few passersby, of whom Ayano shot a quick glower, just for the moment Osana looked down.
Ayano didn’t know what to say, didn’t have a rehearsed response, but when she looked down into Osana’s expecting eyes, she couldn’t help but blurt out the first thing that came to mind.
“I like your hair.”
Osana startled, a sun-tanned hand moving up to brush against the bobbed ends of her hair the lighting of early morning had cast into an ombre pink, matching her delicately painted nails.
Ayano felt her stomach drop- she couldn’t believe she’d said that, still unfamiliar with her newfound impulsivity towards anything Osana-related, not that it was her fault, never her fault; still deeply upsetting, though, the feeling beginning to creep from her stomach up her spine, nauseating.
At least until Osana spoke.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you compliment someone, Yan-chan! Must make me special.” She laughed after that, and the sound reverberated in her ears like bells, all encompassing and overwhelming and achingly sweet.
Yan-chan.
She gave her a nickname.
Before she could even react, sputter out a response or pull her in and kiss her in her recklessness, Osana reached back down into her bag (notably a different one from yesterday, something more worn, a pretty purple colour), pulling out something wrapped and offering it just as she did the towel yesterday, both arms outstretched ahead of her.
“Here, it’s for you- y’know, a real thanks.”
She looked to the side a bit, flushing slightly. In her hands was a lovingly packaged bento- just like the ones she shared with Taro.
“Osana…” She stilled, unsure of how to properly reciprocate in a manner appropriate- but Osana interrupted her, faster than she could think.
“Don’t think too much about it, alright? It’s just to pay you back for yesterday!” She almost shoved it into Ayano's hands before she quickly turned away, ears pink.
“Just… if you want to make it up to me, meet me for lunch, OK? I’ll be on the roof!”
The last bit was spoken quickly, almost unintelligibly before she began to move away from her.
And as she watched Osana run back to Raibaru, grinning, short hair swaying in the wind, Ayano finally let herself smile.