"Ondango," began Hitsugaya, "we need to have –"
But Yukio closed the distance between themselves and the junior, and Ondango looked up, his face painted with a mixture of admiration and surprise. Before Hitsugaya could intervene, Yukio hissed, "Hand it over."
"H-hand what over?" stammered Ondango.
Hitsugaya said, "We need to ask you a few questions, Ondango. If you tell the truth, you'll be able to help all of Mimezawa Middle School."
The junior stood up. He was much, much taller than Hitsugaya – he was even taller than Yukio. But Ondango's eyes betrayed his youth. "Okay," he swallowed, "I'll help."
Yukio folded his arms. "You're usually brimming with confidence," he noted coolly. "What happened to your guts?"
Ondango shook his head. "I haven't," he insisted, "I –"
But the blonde lost patience. "The badges! Where did you get the badges?"
"I made them!"
"LIAR!" Yukio stepped forward – Ondango stepped back. The junior's back was against the criss-crossed wires. "You stole them," corrected Yukio, "from the third-year, Muromachi Keisuke!"
"No!" Ondango's cheeks were red – Hitsugaya grabbed the back of Yukio's blazer and wrenched; the blonde was dragged back a foot – the small senior was so much stronger than he looked.
"You're wrong," mumbled Ondango. "I admire Muromachi-san… so I made badges to resemble his…"
His irises were glazed.
Hitsugaya barked, "He's telling the truth."
"I saw him," said Hitsugaya, "wearing those badges before Muromachi's were ever stolen. These are imitations.
"I'm sorry for accusing you," continued the Representative. "It's clear you're not the person I'm looking for."
At Hitsugaya's glacial scowl, Yukio murmured an apology. Then, they left Ondango to his lunch.
It became clear that Hitsugaya no longer wanted an ally: he did everything to avoid the blonde and Yukio, realising that he hadn't been forgiven, retreated to his corner, playing The Great Ice Ring over and over again on his mobile phone.
It was disappointing, Yukio thought glumly, his gaze travelling listlessly over a notice about the library extension. He respected Hitsugaya's refreshing honesty. The representative was the only person brave enough to make it clear that he found Yukio despicable…
Class 3-A's two Representatives were returning from Home Economics, discussing the upcoming school play. Rumours were abuzz that Mirashima was taking a course to boost her self-confidence. The girl abruptly broke the conversation – "I'm glad there haven't been any more thefts."
"We didn't retrieve the items. In my eyes, that's still a failure."
"Yes…" Mirashima nodded; her glasses slid down her nose. Pushing them up, she added, "Oh – you have a class with Kudo Kyoko-san, don't you?"
Mirashima searched through her pocket and produced a folded slip. "She snuck out of school during lunch yesterday… could you pass this to her?"
And this time, Hitsugaya knew. He did not say anything but strode away.
He was watched from a distance.
He didn't bother with ceremony – Hitsugaya threw the door open: the handle smashed against the wall and left a small chip in the paintwork. From behind his heavy desk, Genbon Yukida looked up. He quirked an eyebrow smiled. "Well, hello," greeted the President warmly, "bit of a loud greeting, but just the person I wanted to talk to! I've had a request from –"
"Save it," snarled Histugaya, "I'm very close to hurting you."
Genbon stared. "What in the world do you mean?"
"You!" Hitsugaya advanced and slammed his hands on the desk. His cold eyes were blazing. "You're the one behind all this – you're the one targeting the students!"
"What are you talking about?"
The striker gave a hollow laugh. "I should have seen it straight away. Everyone one who was robbed received one of your ridiculous warning notes – then you decided to take it further, and pressurise the students. You've been abusing your power!"
"And then," came a new voice, "you sent us a threat."
Yukio entered the room, closing the door with one foot. A constrained smile was painted on his face. "Very clever," he went on. "A double bluff. You're known for your excellent knowledge of kanji – so why would you do something as weird as write in only hiragana?
"That became clear," he edged closer until at Hitsugaya's side. "Your talent is your curse. You're so used to showing off when writing that you automatically use characters normal people have never seen. If you'd gone about your threat in the usual way, Hitsugaya would have known the culprit in a heartbeat."
Genbon Yukida had remained seated for the entire speech, his expression impassive, his fingers forming a steeple. Now, he rose, slowly. "I hope you understand," he began cheerfully, "that randomly accusing people leads to severe consequences."
Yukio announced, "Invaders must die."
Hitsugaya shot the taller boy a sidelong glance – Genbon laughed. "How appropriate," he said.
Then he flipped the table.
Yukio roared – but Hitsugaya wasn't the best striker for nothing. He kicked the blonde aside and jumped out of the way before his feet were crushed: paperwork and stationary were upended, colliding on the floor. They probably had less than a minute before a teacher appeared –
"Are you crazy?" yelled Yukio.
Genbon had found an umbrella; he was holding it like a sword. "Perhaps a little," he shrugged. "When I became President, I vowed to improve Mimezawa. I wanted to perfect our discipline.
"However, I could not make certain students understand the importance of obeying rules. Saikawa, who regularly brawls in the park. Durano, who barely does his homework. All summer long my mind was plagued with these worthless pupils who would discredit my hard work. I wondered, 'How shall I deal with them?'
"Then, the answer." Genbon's eyes were glinting. "I needed to make a statement –"
"So you robbed your peers," Histugaya's hands were balled into fists. He had never felt so revolted.
Genbon laughed. "Yes."
The Representative shouted – he jumped forward, preparing to crunch his knuckles into Genbon's face – but at the last moment Histugaya was held back; his blazer was being gripped by Yukio. "Let go!" yelled the shorter boy. "Let – me – go!"
Once again, the door burst open. The boys swivelled: Coach Hidezaki hovered in the entrance.
"What – what in the world happened?" The teacher's eyes were darting around the room.
Yukio held his phone aloft. "A confession."
He pressed the PLAY button.
"So we won't be seeing him again," gloated Yukio. "And now that you're the President, you've inherited all his paperwork!"
Hitsugaya grimaced. The whole Genbon fiasco had been resolved quickly, thanks to numerous students giving statements and Yukio's recording. It turned out that he had applied voice command to several of the phone's actions. As a result, Genbon returned the stolen items, and was sent from Mimezawa in disgrace.
That left a hole in the Student Council: one that popular demand forced Hitsugaya to fill. There was tons of filing to sort through.
"This means," added Hitsugaya, "that 3-A needs a new Representative."
The blonde drummed his fingers on the table. "Maybe I'll run this time."
"Great." Hitsugaya hesitated, then added, "It'll be like in Mysteries with Leonardo, when Anderson gets a promotion and becomes Lancelot's partner."
"I thought I'd give it a shot," Hitsugaya shrugged, "since you thought so highly of it."
Yukio smiled. "Deep down, you're actually kind… Toushirou."
Hitsugaya's vein throbbed.
"DON'T call me Toushirou!"
Yukio laughed. Strangely, Hitsugaya joined in.
Hope you enjoyed the story!