Thirteen

Another day, another 'mysteriously' regenerating bento box. Kaho, once again, missed the sleight of hand Mamoru was clearly using to replenish the food in her box, and wasn't quite sure how he was doing it. Was anyone else in on it? Kikiyo didn't look surprised when extra food arrived in her lunch. 

Today it was seaweed wrap filled with fried peppers and shredded salmon, alongside two fried pineapple rings, edamame beans and a fat slab of chocolate and coffee cake from the bakery by Mamoru's house. Because he was just that brazen about it now. Thankfully for Kikiyo, Kaho and Mamoru were ready and raring to kick their friends in the shin if they opened their mouths to talk to Kikiyo about lunch. 

"Mamoru," Kikiyo said, "Did you do this?"

She gestured to the cake. Just the cake. He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. 

"Y-yeah!" he exclaimed, "I remembered you liked it last time you came over, and wanted to surprise you. It's Ichigo's birthday today, right? You said once before she likes what you like. It's for her." 

Her eyes widened, a small smile creeping across her face. She bit her lip, "Mamoru, her birthday is on Monday."

Ichigo was Kikiyo's sister, and her fifteenth birthday was just around the corner. She was one of the oldest students in her grade at Middle School. Had Mamoru remembered her birthday, or was he bluffing? Kaho wasn't sure, but either way he seemed to convince Kikiyo. 

"Damn," Mamoru said, "You have it, then Kikiyo, what your sister doesn't know won't hurt her. But I will make sure she gets one, okay?" 

Kikiyo nodded and nibbled on the sponge. Mamoru sighed and returned to eating his lunch, he had crab claws in sweet and sour dip, baby sweetcorn, carrot sticks, egg fried rice and a protein bar waiting for him in his bento. 

"Are we still on for karaoke tonight?" Mariah asked. 

Ryota grinned, "I have basketball practice, but if you're still at the karaoke place when I'm done, I'm sure Mamoru Dearest would pay for an extra hour."

Mamoru grinned, shovelling more food in his mouth. He nodded. Of course he would pay. What was incomprehensible wealth for but paying for an extra hour at karaoke?

"I have work, so I can't," Kikiyo said, bowing her head, "But next time, Mariah." 

Mariah nodded, "I'll hold you to it, Kikiyo!"

"And you, Kaho?" Mariah asked. 

"Yeah. I'm in, hey maybe you should invite Makoto, or that new kid, Matsuoka, you know, for numbers?" 

"I think Makoto would rather be at home right now," Mamoru said, "He got strangled pretty badly yesterday."

Mariah nodded, "You can see the finger marks on his neck, Kikiyo, it's awful." 

"Damn. I didn't…"

"Of course you didn't know, that's okay!" Kaho said, "You're right though, let's invite Matsuoka." 

"Do we have to?" Ryota asked.

"You're not even going to be there," Mariah said, "Why do you care?" 

Ryota scowled. But, the rest of Kaho's tablemates nodded in agreement, returning to their food. They would invite Matsuoka to karaoke. 

She smiled, eyes flickering from the food in her bento, to the remnants of everyone else's food. She rummaged in her bag, and produced her water bottle, and a piece of plastic-wrapped bread. 

"Oh! I forgot I'd bought this!" Kaho said, eyes wide. She wasn't as convincing of a liar as Mamoru, she knew that much, her voice sounded flat. 

She put the piece of squished milk bread in the middle of the table, to see if anyone else would throw food into the sharing fray. Mamoru, of course, caught wind of Kaho's plan and stomped on her foot, putting his silicone tray of carrot sticks into the middle, which Ryota swapped with a fresh brioche melon bread, he'd bought three, and not finished the last one. He'd, whether intentionally or not managed to leave Kikiyo with a choice. Nobody else touched the offerings, but she knew Kikiyo would find them in her bag whether she liked them or not. 

"Sorry I took so long!" Yui, the short-haired girl who'd joined Kaho's team in volleyball said, striding over. She was wearing some tailored school wear, turning her standard-issue school skirt into shorts. She posed as if she was walking from inside to the table on the runway. She muscled in beside Ryota and stretched her legs, tearing open the packaging for her lunch, a cloud of steam wafted off the fresh meal, making Kaho's mouth water. She snapped her school-issued wooden chopsticks and dug into her food. Kaho was almost certain she could hear Kikiyo's stomach rumbling from across the table. Was she not eating at all? How was she still standing? 

"You know, that move you did in gym the other day was really cool, you know, aggressive, surprising," Yui said, stabbing a tomato with her chopsticks, "Almost made me want to consider watching the girls' team play." 

"You know why you actually want to watch the girls' team play, Yui," Ryota snorted, "Same reason I do." 

She elbowed him back, "School spirit." 

They laughed. 

When Yui turned back to her food, spearing a second tomato, Ryota turned his gaze away from the table, instead he glared at a solitary figure standing in the corner. 

Kaho sighed and looked at him, it was like he was trying to hide but even from the shadows and shade, he was there, like a vulture, seeking wounded, vulnerable prey he could snatch for whatever he wanted to do with them. She still wasn't sure whether Emi was correct in her assumption that Mae had been taken by the same person that took Sayuri and now Hiroko, but what she did know was that for the last two days, her letter from her Future Self gave her one, precise, specific instruction: 

'Keep Naseru far away from Kurosaki Katsuo.' 

From what Kaho could tell, he was alone, so whether she was conscious of it or not, maybe she was doing a good job. She couldn't really tell. But inviting him to karaoke was a great way to make sure it stayed that way.

Kurosaki Katsuo was never too social at school, he had a few people he would sit with, on a bench by the bike shed, where they'd smoke and say the world was unfair, but they were upperclassmen and had graduated before the break. The bench he'd favoured was now home to a group of shrill, excitable first year girls. He couldn't go back to that spot, not now it had been claimed.

And so, he'd prowled campus, looking for a new spot and surveying the clusters of students as they existed around him. It was how he knew that Mae was home alone during the break.

He'd found a spot out of the sun, in the outdoor canteen, a cool, shaded spot where he could glower and contemplate his next moves. After all, what does Kurosaki Katsuo have to be worried about? He has a family business to inherit making sandwiches and selling them to convenience stores. But he kept catching glares from the other students. Not disdainful looks, but actual anger etched across their faces. But it didn't make sense. He hadn't made a mistake, and yet, despite Ayami from class 2B declaring Hikaru had murdered Sayuri, he felt like he had a target on his back. 

He flinched when he saw a boy pass him on his way to the vending machine, a red, waxy apple in his palm. Matsuoka. 

Partially obscured by the vending machine, Katsuo whispered Naseru's name. He looked up and narrowed his eyes.

"What?" Naseru hissed.

"You're coming with me for the test drive. Got it?" 

Naseru laughed, "You didn't need to ask me in stealth mode, Kurosaki, but yes, we're going for the test drive."

Katsuo watched Naseru leave the canteen, and caught a girl staring at him. Aigawa from 2B. He scowled. Did she have a little crush? Cute. 

His eyes flickered from girl to girl, assessing them. Would it be suspicious if another girl in his grade went missing if she wasn't in his class? Or would it be too risky to consider taking one of his own classmates, Katsuo didn't know, but what he did know was that, for some reason, unbeknownst to him, everyone kept looking at him. 

He scowled out at the students around him. Kaho met his eyes for a fleeting moment. She was too risky of a girl to target, she had two siblings and a mother who came and went from her house, even if he'd wanted to slip away with her, it wouldn't have been smart. He'd have been caught. 

He couldn't be caught. He'd been careful before; Kibata Mae's parents were away; he'd overheard her and Emi talking about their plans to essentially spend the break at Mae's place since she had it to herself. She was an easy target to surprise and slip away with, and only Emi seemed to care that she was gone. 

Michimori Sayuri had been a bit riskier, but worth taking advantage of. He'd snagged her in an alley on her way home from school, just a few streets away from her friend Makoto's place, where nobody could see them. 

Then there was Watanabe. If anyone had been a mistake, it had been her. He had known it from the second he caught her scampering down to the art room, where the art club were supposed to meet. But with Hikaru absent, Sayuri missing in action, and all their fellow club members off at college, there had only been one witness to worry about. A witness he could incriminate if he could rough him up. After all, he had defensive wounds and Katsuo came out without a scratch.

Even the other two teens, middle schoolers, who had apparently witnessed everything, had followed him almost all the way before being knocked out by the doorman and dragged downstairs, Watanabe in tow. Now there was only Makoto. 

What he hadn't factored in was how stubborn he was. He'd been in school the next day, his split lip angry and swollen, and his neck covered in Katsuo's guilty handprints. He hadn't meant to leave that much of a mark. 

It was bad enough that Sato kept stirring up trouble with her new best friend Maki, insisting that Kibata had been kidnapped – she had, of course – but that wasn't the point. Then there was the fact that Sayuri's disappearance had garnered so much attention. The Lion Fish weren't going to be happy about that. Not when they came for their pickup. 

He'd been overzealous picking up Watanabe, he'd been so intent on making money he hadn't factored in the logistics. This was a one-man operation most of the time, or at least, on the surface. It was safer that way. But subduing them was harder when they outnumbered him so greatly and he didn't have a chance to listen in on them. For all he knew, they were planning their escape. 

He was forced out of his thoughts when Suzuki Rantaro, whether intentionally or not, tripped over his own feet and spilt the last of his cranberry juice all over Katsuo's shirt. 

He swore, grabbing Rantaro by the shirt and holding him up by his shirt. Rantaro was half an inch taller than Katsuo, and despite the adrenaline and his physical strength, all Katsuo did was crinkle his shirt when he tried to dominate the sportsman. 

"Hey, hey, hey," Rantaro said, "Calm it, Kurosaki, it's just a shirt." 

Just a shirt? Just a shirt? His plain white school shirt had been completely nondescript, ready for the delivery. Now there was an identifying mark on it. 

Katsuo swore and pivoted on his foot, shoving Rantaro against the wall. Rantaro laughed in his face, ducked under his arm and walked off, "Forget it, my guy, it's just a shirt." 

Every student in the cafeteria was staring at him again. He was a deer in the headlights, gawking at the sea of faces, everyone who could potentially vouch for that stain and how it came to be there. That it definitely happened right there in public in front of half of the school. His face felt hot, every inch of his skin was on fire. He stormed out of the patio cafeteria, back indoors, kicking the door open as he went. It swung into the wall and dented the plaster, but he was too in his head. He needed someone else he could pin the delivery on if all went south. Someone who would be the fall guy for his people. 

Matsuoka Naseru was the perfect candidate.