Masaru peeks around the corner, watching the mailman toss a batch of envelopes into a slit.

  “Perfect. All I need to do is get inside the office.”

  Click, click. The door’s locked. She pulls out a hairpin and tries to pick the lock… except she doesn't know how. With a resigned sigh, she makes her way across the school grounds and to the back, where she sees the window open.

  “Second floor… how am I supposed to get up?”

  She spots a large oak tree by the building, a few branches dangling near the window. No other way in- she begins to climb. The bark leaves brown marks on her palms and fingertips as she slowly makes her way up, but then makes the mistake of looking down.

  Her head spins. The floor looks miles away. The branches beneath her swing softly but ever so threateningly, her feet turning to jello beneath her. She’s starting to have second thoughts, yet there was no other way down.

  Gulp. She continues forward. The branch bends the more she makes her way out, drooping lower and lower. She squeals loudly, clinging on for dear life as the wind starts to make her world swing.

  “Waaaaaaah! I’m afraid of heights!”

  She sniffles and reaches out with all her might, missing the windowsill by a hair.

  “Can’t… reach!”

  There’s a cold breeze on her neck that makes her shudder- like she was being watched. She pushes the thought aside and takes a deep breath.

  “Hup!”

  She flings herself forward from the branch, grasping the edge with her hands. Thump. Her body slams against solid concrete, a groan escaping her lips. She pulls herself up despite the pain and flips into the office anyway.

  “Should’ve asked someone else to open the door. Ugh…”

  Masaru curls up into a ball on the floor. It takes her a good minute or so before she gets back onto her feet and walks over to the mailbox. She rifles through the letters- mostly expense stuff, some credit card bills, others bureaucratic notices from the school board.

  “Five credit cards? Is this guy for real?”

  Then she spots it, the yellowish ticket from the Police Department. She runs over to the desk, looking over a few other documents Kentaro had signed, and begins to trace the signature.

  “I… I need to get it right the first time. No redoes.”

  She begins to scribble on a blank piece of paper. It wasn’t easy to copy Kentaro’s chicken scratch, much less his signature. She had to give it a good dozen tries before the text started resembling anything close.

  “There! I’ve got it!”

  She finally manages to imprint a passable imitation, letting out a soft cheer. She stuffs the ticket into her pocket, settling everything back into place.

  “Job well done. Now I need to get ou-”

  Her heart skips two beats as she hears the doorknob clatter. Someone was turning the key. Her ears shoot upright in a panic, jumping over and grasping the piece of paper with forged signatures before flinging it out the window. She looks down, contemplating jumping out after it.

  No way. The drop felt twice as high from up here. The paper fluttered to the ground — she couldn’t.

  “Eeep!” Her ears flatten against her head as her eyes dart around the room. The doorknob was turning.

  Click. The door opens.

  “…And I lost fifty thousand yen on the fucking favorite! Lil shits can’t do nothing right.”

  Kentaro lumbers in on the phone, cursing loudly as he turns sideways to fit in through the doorway. He walks over to the mailbox, pulling out a stack of letters before walking to the desk and throwing them all into one messy pile.

  “Nah, I’m not worried about the cash. Michinoku Kogen’s coming up, and Katsura Oscar’s running. Ain’t no way lil Norm’s winning, so you put down forty thousand against her.”

  He pulls back the office chair and sits with a grunt. The plastic groans and creaks under his weight, sounding like it might break any second. He leans back, the chair whining loudly in protest.

  “Hh…hhnnngh.. uu…”

  Masaru whimpers, Kentaro’s legs and feet inches from her face. Tears well up in the corner of her eyes, her entire body trembling in terror as she tries to squeeze herself further under the desk.

  “Look. Just do it. We’ll split the profits and break even. Now shut up.”

  Kentaro hangs up the call and begins to pick up letters, nearly kicking Masaru in the process. She clamps her hand over her mouth, desperately trying not to make a sound. She was internally cursing Normcore’s entire bloodline- she had one job!

  Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. Her heart pounds loudly in her chest as if it was going to jump out of her ribcage. Kentaro doesn’t move. Despite the occasional movement of the legs, he plants himself firmly on the seat, filling out document after document.

  Masaru feels herself slowly slipping- Her knees were cramping, her back twisted painfully beneath the desk’s frame. She couldn’t hold her position forever. Her thoughts began to spiral, she had zero clue how she was getting herself out of this one.

  The sound of rolling plastic makes her blood run cold. A ballpoint pen clatters to the floor, rolling to a stop right next to Masaru. Kentaro curses, rolling back his chair and starting to bend down…

  “Excuse me, Mr. Takahashi.”

  The door swings open. The grubby fingers pause, dangling in midair before Kentaro straightens.

  Katsura? Masaru flinches at the voice. What was she doing here?

  “There’s a situation at the cafeteria. We need an instructor present.”

  Kentaro grunts in acknowledgement. He climbs out of his chair and waddles over to the door.

  “Fine. Lead the way.”

  The footsteps echo in the hallway till they disappear. Masaru lets out a quivering breath, uncoiling into a puddle on the floor, barely holding herself together.

  She makes her way out of the office and into the mailroom, slamming the forged ticket into Kentaro’s outgoing mailbox before collapsing onto the floor. She breathes out, half sobbing, half relief.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “N-never again! I’m done cleaning up your messes, Norm…”

  “So it was about the whitecoat.”

  Katsura’s voice echoes from outside. She comes through the doorway- and Masaru feels death permeating from her presence.

  “Ee-eeeeek!”

  Masaru tries to scurry, only for Katsura to slam her palm against the wall, cutting off her escape with her arm.

  “I saw you trying to get into the fat man’s office from across the field, so I waited outside to see what it was all about. Turns out you were trying to forge his signature.”

  Katsura leans down, holding up the practice sheet Masaru had scribbled all over, practically breathing down her neck.

  “I came up to the office and considered telling the fat man right then and there, but I saw your tail poking out from underneath the desk.”

  Her face was dripping with contempt, yet there was a spark in her eyes that was… primal. Excited. Like a predator that had cornered its prey.

  “I’ve got no sympathy for rulebreakers, especially those who think they can cheat and lie their way out of the consequences of their own actions.”

  Out of the frying pan…

  Masaru collapses onto the floor. Katsura doesn’t follow- she looks on, amused, like she had all the time in the world to watch Masaru squirm.

  “But then I thought about it. The fat man would probably smack you around and call it a day. That’s not enough. If it were up to me, I’d make sure you never stepped foot in this school ever again.”

  “I-I-” She stutters, her head short circuiting on the spot. What could she possibly say?

  “So tell me. Why shouldn’t I get this down to the principal’s office and have you expelled for committing a crime?”

  “It’s- it’s a medical form!” Masaru blurts out. “She needs to get a prescription. We couldn’t afford it any other way, so please, don’t do this!”

  It was a lie. It was a stupid lie, but she might as well try. Masaru braces herself, shutting her eyes tight. She had half expected Katsura to cackle, to mock her, to drag her by the collar to Kentaro’s office. Except… she doesn’t. There’s only silence, long enough for Masaru to wonder if Katsura had left the room.

  “…tch.”

  She cracks one eye open. Katsura’s expression is unreadable, a strange look lingering in the gaze. Then, she pushes off the wall and briskly walks away.

  “Fine. I’ll let this one go. Consider yourself lucky, gremlin.”

  The door slams shut. Masaru gasps for breath on the floor, covered in cold sweat, feeling like the world just tried to suffocate her.

  …What the hell was that?

  The cafeteria echoes with dishes and chatter, Kentaro’s massive figure taking up half the table as he noisily slurps up takeout. Normcore scarfs down a bowl of rice, chopsticks clattering loudly against porcelain.

  She looks up, noticing Masaru had barely eaten anything. Her ears were plastered against her head, and she kept sneaking glances across the room.

  “What’s wrong?” Normcore asks, wiping rice from the corner of her mouth.

  Masaru flinches. “Nothing. It’s fine.”

  Normcore follows her gaze, spotting Katsura and her posse chatting. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, so why does she look so shaken up?

  “Katsura? What did she do?”

  “She saw. She knows. I’m worried.”

  Normcore nearly drops her chopsticks in shock. Her stomach churned- Katsura, from what she could remember, had always been a jerk. But she never imagined her being someone who could stoop so low.

  “Wait, what? She’s blackmailing you?”

  “She said she’d let me go… but I don’t know how trustworthy her word is. She’s not the kind of person who just lets things go.”

  “Why that damn-”

  Normcore starts to stand, but Masaru frantically grasps her by the sleeve. Her eyes were wide, pleading.

  “Stop! It’s fine. You’ll only make things worse.”

  “Masaru…” Normcore sits back down. “Sorry. I didn’t want to get you caught up in all this. If I had known-”

  Masaru doesn’t look back. She’s lost in thought.

  “It’s okay. It’s all in the past now.” She picks up her chopsticks. “I knew the risks. Nobody forced me.”

  Masaru looks like she wanted to say something else, but she doesn’t. Instead, she shoves a big chunk of fried rice down her throat and promptly chokes.

  “Green Onions? Are they trying to kill me?”

  Normcore stares at her coughing frantically before deciding to change the subject.

  “You ever think about how fatty still has his job?”

  “Hm?” Masaru’s ears twitch softly, her chopsticks freeze amidst picking out green onion fragments onto a plate.

  “Yeah. He beats his trainees- whom he barely trains anyway- and not only that, he’s always busy betting on races while working.”

  “Seriously, Norm? You don’t know?”

  Masaru’s gaze darts over- Kentaro hasn’t noticed. She leans in, cupping her hands over Normcore’s ears.

  “He’s the principal’s cousin.”

  Nepotism. Of course. Before Normcore could respond, though, Kentaro’s voice booms across the table once more.

  “What is it this time, you two? Care to share?”

  Masaru squeals and jumps in her seat. Normcore flinches, her chopsticks clattering to the floor.

  “W-W-We were discussing free time activities!” She blurts out. “Isn’t that right, Norm-?”

  “Ah? Y-Yeah.” She frantically nods along, her head bobbing up and down as if it decreased Kentaro’s aggro bar.

  Kentaro’s eyes narrow again. He slowly sits back down, the metal cafeteria chair deforming under his weight with a creak, his fat catching between the armrests and poking out like a stress ball.

  The two girls watch him unwrap a third burger, his gaze lingering on them both as he sinks his teeth deep into the bun. Masaru lets out a tiny cough, her ears drooping slightly in relief. She picks up her chopsticks, Normcore trying to follow suit before realizing hers were on the floor.

  The rest of dinner goes by without another word, though both their ears remained upright till Kentaro left the table.

  “Man, I’m cooked.” Normcore slides open the dorm door with a sigh. The day had been long with training. She drags herself inside, sticky and exhausted, wanting nothing but a good cold shower.

  “Towels. Where are the towels…”

  She mutters to herself and throws open a closet. She’s immediately buried under a tidal wave of colored cloth, each in an assortment of patterns, followed by a good dozen balls of yarn. Hearing the crash, Masaru scurries to the doorway, letting out a horrified gasp.

  “Norm! Are you okay?”

  She gives a small thumbs up, poking her head out of the mountain of fabric.

  “...What the hell is all this?”

  “It’s a hobby of mine. I use it to design outfits.”

  The two begin a search and rescue operation. Masaru yanks on Normcore’s arm in an attempt to pull her out, fails, and the two resignedly start pulling clutter off her.

  “Seriously. How much did this cost?”

  “Not a lot. I’m friends with the tailor shop across town. He sells me these for cheap.”

  It took quite long for the two to unwedge Normcore. It takes even longer for them to stuff everything back in.

  “You design racewear now?”

  “Yup!” Masaru flings open her locker, reaches in deep, and pulls out a box. “Well, I’m not very good at it, and it’s mostly stuff I throw together on a whim…”

  She lifts up what looks like a white tuxedo, with frilled laces by the collar and cuffs, along with a golden spiral pattern sewn into the sleeves. Her eyes sparkle with half pride, half nervousness, like a child showing their parents a drawing.

  “Wait. You made this?”

  Normcore tugs at the fabric. Some stitches were uneven, but the spiral embroidery gleamed under the light — it had style. For unprofessional work, this was phenomenal.

  “Is there something wrong with it..?” Masaru’s ears twitch nervously, her gaze fixated on Normcore’s expression.

  “No, it’s just…” Normcore places a hand to her chin. As hard as she tried to recall sewing supplies around the place, she couldn’t. She stares at the dress, flipping it around and then back. “This is news to me. I never see you work on this stuff.”

  “W-Well, I take my stuff out in a box and do it in an empty classroom on the third floor.” Masaru chuckles awkwardly. “My first few tries weren’t very good, so I was a bit self conscious in being seen..”

  “Is that where the bandage came from?”

  “A-Ah!” Masaru flinches softly and grabs her hand. “Yeah. I cut them the other day while working on one of those dresses.”

  Normcore smiles. She sets the dress down on the bed softly and takes out a few more, laying them out alongside the white one.

  “Hey. You’re pretty good at this. I wouldn’t mind wearing one of these.”

  “Really?” Masaru beams. Her eyes widen with a gleam, sparkling in the fluorescent lights overhead. She squeals with a joy Normcore hadn’t ever heard her make, not in their free time and especially not on the track. She tackles Normcore in a hug, nearly crushing her ribs.

  “Whoa, whoa- a lil too tight there, Saru-”

  Masaru releases Normcore hastily, gently folding the dresses back into her box as if they were woven from strands of gold, her tail swinging around excitedly.

  “S-Sorry! I got carried away, no one’s ever praised me for something I’ve tried so hard at before..”

  “Do you want to become a designer?” Normcore asks. “You could probably be one if you tried.”

  “Well, about that..” Masaru slightly deflates, sitting down on the bed. “A hobby’s a hobby, you know. Can’t let it take over your life.”

  Normcore isn’t quite sure how to respond. The two sit in silence, Masaru staring out the window before her ears shoot upright with anger.

  “Oi! What the hell happened with fatass? You were supposed to keep him busy!”

  “I- ah- well, you see-” Normcore stutters, her gaze flying into the other direction. “I had a plan, but…”

  Masaru leans in, eyes narrow, tail stiff with judgment. Her look conveys only one thing- you better have a good explanation for this.

  “I-I told him to hammer in the horseshoes. Turns out Kentaro gets really powerful when he’s angry, so he ended up driving in every nail with one swing…”

  Normcore tries to use the awkward pause to escape, only to smack into the bedframe. She crumples onto the floor, clutching her head in pain.

  Masaru lets out a snort.

  “So we’re going from glass to hard wood now?”

  “Shut up.”