Post Fumoffu !

When academic year two, term three, begins, he's awake and disheveled and trying to calculate the pressure of a 255 ml aerosol can that contains 0.0104 mole of gas, without blowing the classroom up.

Meanwhile, she's sleepy and annoyed and half-sprawled over their lab table, clutching an empty vial in one hand and a tattered textbook in the other.

"Use the constant, Sousuke," she tells the table, yawning, her cheek sloppily pressed to the base of a microscope.

He sticks out his tongue in concentration, and spends several minutes carefully copying her calculations.

She spends several minutes sleeping.

When she wakes up, there are ten perfect points scribbled down on his paper in bold, red ink.

There are only four on hers.

"What the—" she scowls, then explodes. "This—this means war, Sagara Sousuke!"

"So far, he's ahead by one point," she explains to Kyouko during lunch, furious and squeezing a dumpling until it bursts in her hand.

Daintily, Kyouko wipes her face with a handkerchief.

"Kana-chan," she says cheerfully, glasses glinting in the sunshine, "are you sure Sagara-kun is competing with you?" She cocks her head, adding, "On purpose, I mean?"

Distracted, Kaname ignores her, and scurries off toward the gym. "I'll win this thing if it costs me my sanity!"

Kyouko finishes lunch by herself.

"How do you play this?" he asks, brows drawn together in thought.

She pauses, then slams her fist into the tool shed's wall. "It's soccer, Sousuke! Everyone knows how to play soccer!"

"Um... I-I don't...?" says one of her terrified classmates.

Kaname ignores the boy, and hurls the ball at Sousuke. "You! Play midfield, okay?"

Sousuke bounces the ball experimentally, eyes trained on her. "Chidori," he says, "I don't understand. What is the purpose of this game?"

Kaname stomps over to him and dropkicks the ball onto the field behind the shed, gritting her teeth. "You. Ball. Goal. Settle. Score! Won't! Lose! To! You! Damn it!"

Sousuke gives the ball a skeptical glance.

"Sagara-san," hums Hayashimizu, who's suddenly towering over several fidgety students. "The object you are currently holding," he continues casually, "is of the utmost importance. It must not fall into enemy... feet. This is warfare. Proceed with any combat procedure you think is necessary."

Sousuke brightens. "Understood!"

Hayashimizu's fan flips open, spelling an arced V-I-C-T-O-R-Y.

In passing, Kaname accidentally swings her fist through it. "That's cheating, you ba—"

But Sousuke's face is shadowed and he's already charging across the field, pushing students left and right, clutching the ball.

"Um...Chidori-san..." says one of her classmates nervously, scuffing his toe in the grass. "I don't think he knows how to play this game..."

Oblivious, Kaname chases after the idiotic fugitive, foaming at the mouth. "Give back the ball, Sousuke!"

"I'm afraid I cannot do that, Chidori!" he shouts over his shoulder, rushing past the school building and ducking under a low beam. "We are temporarily on opposing teams. I cannot allow you to interfere with the success of this mission."

Incoherent and incredulous, she rounds the corner after him, gaining speed. "I won't lose to you! Ever!"

Eventually, Sousuke skids to a halt in front of the high wire fence, cornered and scouting for an exit.

Panting, Kaname catches up, then slumps forward, resting her palms on her knees and cackling maniacally. "Put the ball down and slowly step away, Sousuke!"

He glances at her, then the ball, then pulls out a mini grenade, quickly tapes it to the ball, and sends both flying into the nearest available window.

Wide-eyed, Kaname thumps her head against her knees, then keels over. "We'll call this one a tie."

When they shuffle out of the principal's office, Sousuke's confused and wary and staring at her silent silhouette.

"Chidori," he begins.

She stops.

"Chidori?"

Frantic, she digs through her pockets, wildly searching for something. A pocket-sized Bonta-kun slips through her fingers, and she quickly fondles it.

Sousuke's silent for a minute, waiting patiently.

Gradually, her shoulders relax, and she twitches. "We can still make it to History. You can't possibly beat me at History."

"—for that reason, on April 02, 1941, German Lieutenant General Erwin Rommel, a.k.a. 'The Desert Fox,' recaptured Cyrenaica, though classified reports state the British Field Marshall Archibald Wavell and the Afrika Korps were forced to retreat into Egypt with fifty tanks, 88mm anti-tank guns—"

"A-ah," the teacher interrupts awkwardly, "t-thank you, Sagara-kun." She scribbles a few illegible 5s into the student log and forces a strained smile. "You're excused for the rest of the semester, c-congratulations!"

Kaname's pencil snaps in half.

English, she thinks, will be a piece of cake.

She volunteers to conjugate and translate and, er... subjugate.

She bows theatrically when she's done, accompanied by enthusiastic applause and imaginary confetti.

When she returns to her seat, the one in front of him, she's smug and aloof, flicking her bangs with utter confidence. "02:01, eh, Sousuke, eh?"

Sousuke's quiet and thoughtful and he can't quite look at her. "That... that was impressive, Chidori."

She blushes instantly.

"I will speak with Commander Mardukas," he continues, flustered. "This should immediately be added to your dossier."

Reeling, she slumps forward and buries her head in her textbook.

On Tuesday, he's deathly serious and quiet and... tied to a chair.

"—cast-off-centuries-of-irrational-inconsistent-and-oppressive-philosophies-and-draw-from-the-independent-artistic-and-your-institutional-self-while-gazing-upon-this-flawless-archetype-of-beauty-and-strength—" the teacher is babbling, one devout hand raised to the heavens, the other resting against his sunburnt forehead.

Kaname's pencil is sharpened and her eraser is clean, but the pad remains blank.

When the bell rings, a few passing students give her strange glances and hurriedly skitter away.

Sousuke doesn't move at all.

Neither does Kaname.

03:01 in his favor, she thinks, and contemplates confiscating every single sketch.

For him, Biology is an exercise in control and skill and Mendelian genetics.

For her, it's the seventh circle of hell.

"We'll use Kana-chan and Sagara-kun as subjects!" Kyouko suggests happily, distributing blank sheets of paper.

Kaname's protests are useless at best.

Kyouko is determined, Sousuke is clueless, and the Punnet Square beckons dangerously.

The small group of students huddles closer, pens poised and eyes gleaming.

"The monohybrid test cross! Begins! Now!" says Kyouko pleasantly. "If Kana-chan and Sagara-kun had babies—"

Kaname ignores the urge to hide under the table.

"—and assuming both Kana-chan and Sagara-kun carry the Scary Gene, we should calculate what percent of their children won't be allowed out in public. This is for a grade!"

Mortified, Kaname listens to them dissect an imaginary child's genetic makeup, humming Whispered equations in her head, and supplying the discussion with an occasional, "A-a, ahahaha!"

But soon, she can't take it anymore and stands up, shaking furiously.

She opens her mouth to tell them to shove their heterozygous dominants and homozygous recessives where the sun don't shine, but—

"Twenty-five percent," he says, focused, staring at the paper diligently. "Every fourth offspring."

Kaname sits back down quietly.

On Wednesday, she practices in front of the mirror.

"I have lost to you," she mumbles, tormented, then promptly clenches her fist. "Temporarily!"

Satisfied, she makes her way to school.

She wins at math and physics.

"03:03, eh?" she nods, pumping her fist in the air.

But it's easy to win when one's opponent is absent.

On Thursday, he still hasn't returned, so she mopes around, scribbling nonsense into his textbook.

The tiny Bonta-kun in her pocket is already frayed at the edges, but her fingers still curl around it every twenty minutes.

On Friday, he's sleepy and disheveled and trying to find the appropriate classroom without toppling over and dying.

Meanwhile, she's staring out the window, sleep-deprived and worried and wondering if she kinda, maybe, possibly imagined this stupid crazy otaku, and if she, kinda, maybe, possibly did, what she would give to imagine him a little more.

Stealthily, he sneaks past her, hangs his heavy backpack next to hers, and flips to the assigned pages.

By the time she notices him, he's halfway through copying her equations, fidgety and constantly glancing at her back.

She turns slowly, hopelessly, and sees him.

She means to say something like you're back yay I missed you please quit Mithril, but it comes out as, "A-hahaha! I win!"

Instinctively, Sousuke stiffens.

She slams both palms onto their lab table, and cackles into his face. "You lose!"

Sousuke frowns. "I don't understand, Chidori."

She frets piously, inspecting her nails. "Of course you don't! That's why I win!" She gives him a blinding smile, heart beating again. "I'm smarter! And better! Game over!"

Sousuke's cheeks are dark. He puts up his hands apologetically. "I didn't know we were playing a game, Chidori. Should I win next time?"

Kaname just stares at him.

"Ch—Chidori?"

Exasperated, she slumps into the seat next to him.

"I don't get it," she mutters to herself, irritated, and flicks a piece of eraser dust at his chest.

Sousuke says nothing, staring at his textbook and the horrifying doodles she's left there.

She throws her pencil case at him.

Sousuke says nothing, so she grabs the nearest sharp object. "I don't get it—I don't get it—I don't—"

She plans to pummel him with it, but accidentally cuts herself instead.

"Kaname!" he jumps as her blood spatters all over his notes.

Huffily, she snatches her hand back. "I can take care of it myself. You... go and do some... Mithril stuff."

Flushed, he pulls out a roll of bandages, and, frowning, grabs her arm.

"...I don't understand, either," he says in a low voice.

She can't quite look at him, so she watches the blackboard instead.

The teacher drones on and on as Sousuke slowly wraps the bandage around her hand.

"Viscosity," the teacher says, tracing the chalk across the board in a long, smiling arc, "arises from attractive forces between molecules." He pauses for effect, then leans his palms on his great big desk and raises an eyebrow. "This will be on the test."

Grumpy, the students nod, scribbling down unintelligible notes and murmuring unhappily.

Kaname glances at her hand. "Che. Aren't you done yet?"

Sousuke doesn't look at her. "No," he says.

"Slow," she replies, watching him out of the corner of her eye as he fumbles with the bandages.

"Un."

The teacher drags the chalk up and down the blackboard, and continues absently, "These forces cause the particles to continuously stick to one another, even when the polarizing kinetic motions are at their strongest—"

Kaname snaps, but doesn't pull her hand back. "Hurry up and take notes, Sousuke! This'll be on the test!"

"Un," he replies calmly. "I'll just use the constant."