Blossoms of the Dark

CXLIX Shouto: Iris

Just after class ends, I have to attend remedial classes for the provisional license.

But before I leave, I help Selene carry some boxes to the storage area.

And I take the opportunity to learn more about the notes she has been taking, especially about me.

"So what does your statistical analysis depict? Is the class improving as a whole?" I ask her. She nods. She tells me that overall, yes. Individually, it varies. So I question her about who is progressing the quickest, the slowest, surprisingly, unsurprisingly. I wait to hear my name in any of those categories.

She stops in her tracks and narrows a glare at me. "I know what you are doing, and you are not very subtle about it. We've played this game before. You want the report of your progress, right?" She glances around before searching the file on top of her box. "This kind of information is confidential, and I would charge money for giving it, but just this once friendship makes this free. Hand it back once you're finished."

I take the paper from her. There are notes about my special moves, strengths, and weaknesses. Charts about my duration, magnitude, and endurance. Personally, I think the students should be allowed to see these reports, so they know where they're doing well and what they need to work on. Thanks to my photographic memory, I memorize every word and pattern on the paper. When I'm about to return the report to her, my hand hovers in midair.

Selene is looking at the bulletin board. Specifically, a flyer on the bulletin board. My gaze follows hers. It's about a writing and drawing competition. There will be a new theme every month for four months, and the participant has to write an essay and submit a work of art about said theme. Individuals, partners, and groups are allowed. The prize is a cheque of a few thousand yen and a trophy. A QR code and URL are provided at the corner of the flyer for registration. A forlorn look clouds her eyes.

I reach out and touch her shoulder. "Hey! Everything all right?"

"Oh! Yes. Everything is fine. We should go. You said that you had extra lessons? That sounds similar to cram school." Selene doesn't meet my eyes as she takes the paper and places it back in the file. She doesn't make eye contact with me either. My eyes alternate between her retreating figure and the flyer, trying to make sense of her reaction. On a whim, I take a picture of the flyer on my phone before following her.

_________________________________________________________

She was right.

Remedial lessons really were like cram school, but more physical and sweatier. I was glad I got to see my progress report before going there.

When I get back to the boarding house, all I want to do is wash all the grime and perspiration coating me. The hot water feels like heaven. I head to my room when I finish, intending to write a letter to Mom, finish my homework, and then talk to Selene about the competition. She wasn't subtle, either.

By the time I finish the first two tasks, the sun has long set. I go over to her room and knock. No response. I knock again. Same thing. I'm just about to text her for her whereabouts, when a hunch hits me. If I have learned anything about her in the one year I've known her, then my hunch might be right. Acting on it, I return to U.A. school building.

_________________________________________________________

My suspicion was right.

Despite the late hour, Selene is in the school library, on a quest for books.

Predictably, she's in the fiction section. I watch her pull one book after the other and set them on a table. Based on the height of the tower, my estimate is twenty-five books. She stretches on her tip-toes for a novel way up high. I sneak my way behind her and pull it down for her, the instant she sees my shadow and whips around.