MS. Chiaki, the girl’s gym teacher, motioned for all the girls to group up. “Girls, gather ’round and pair up! We’ll be learning the basics of hip-hop dancing today.”
The girls moved quickly, friends and acquaintances naturally gravitating to each other first. I cast a covert glance at Nonoka and as expected, she stood isolated, without a partner in sight.
Next, the remaining students started to pair up. I made eye contact with Shannon; she nodded, and immediately, several girls nearby began to make their move—these were the students paid off by Shizuki. They would pair off with stragglers and ensure Nonoka was left alone—Shizuki’s method of ensuring Nonoka had no choice but to pair with me.
I snuck another glance at Nonoka, but this time, our eyes met. She quickly averted her gaze, clearly not wanting to partner with me; understandable. I’d originally planned to make my move when everyone else had paired off, but this was as good a time as any. I took a single step forward, when a familiar voice halted me. “Ms. Mio. Would you honor me by being my partner?”
It was Rikka. We’d anticipated she might approach me, and a plan was in place for Shannon to intervene, but where was she? I looked at her; she only looked back apologetically; Rikka had given her the slip. This wasn’t ideal, but not at all plan-ending. “Ms. Rikka, I would be delighted, but I am already committed to another,” I responded diplomatically.
“Oh, is that so?” Rikka seemed surprised, but not disheartened. “Then perhaps next time.” With grace, she withdrew and approached another girl, who eagerly accepted, visibly moved by the gesture.
With that out of the way, I moved to where Nonoka stood. By this point, most girls had already paired off, and she was looking increasingly uneasy. When she noticed me approaching, she reacted visibly. I made sure to keep my gaze fixed her so that she couldn’t run. Considering Nonoka was always very polite and respectful, sometimes even unduly so, I figured I could use that to my advantage. “Nonoka,” I said, adopting an overtly friendly tone. “It is with great pleasure that I offer you the illustrious chance to dance with me.”
“R-Really, Ms. Mio? You’d partner with me?”
Um, why does she look so happy? She hasn’t forgotten that I debased her on the basis of her birth not along ago, has she?
Perhaps I underestimated her protagonist-levels of positivity. But as long as I could show a definitive act of intimidation or bullying toward her in front of everyone, I could still achieve my original objective. I had to admit, however, Nonoka looking happy to see me was definitely a wrench in the works.
Whatever, stick to the plan. The lesson began with Nonoka and me as partners. We started with basic steps, before moving in to pair work, then splitting up to learn a quick solo choreography before finishing back up in pairs.
The basic steps were easy for me, given my recent practice. Nonoka, however, struggled. Each time she made a mistake, I made sure to reprimand her—and I made sure to let everyone know.
“No, no, no, didn’t I just tell you not to do that?” I exclaimed in feigned exasperation. “It’s supposed to go like this… Then this! You want to start—pause—then as you lower your right foot, simultaneously slide your left foot backward!”
“S-Sorry!” Nonoka stammered in response.
“Apologize less, perform better. Look, you’re off-beat again. Now what are you doing?! Your right hand is all wrong! How is it that you’re a whole beat ahead of the music?!”
My critique was far from constructive. It was harsh. Destructive. It pained me to be so cruel, both emotionally and physically from the strain of yelling, but I needed to make sure everyone around us heard.
Ms. Chiaki, having observed our interaction for some time, finally stepped in. “M-Ms. Sakurazaka, that is quite enough!” she said with as much firmness as she could muster.
“Oh, Ms. Chiaki, how can I help you?” I replied, feigning innocence.
“By toning down your attitude a notch!” she said. “You may have talent, Ms. Sakurazaka, but that is no reason to talk to your partner like that!”
I looked down; her hands were shaking subtly as they gripped the hems of her tracksuit—a natural response, perhaps. The corridors of the Academy were rife with rumors of the Sakurazaka family’s lavish endowments. A mere phone call from my end held the potential to derail her career. As specious as these rumors were, however, they were not entirely birthed from thin air. Certainly, the majority of parents from Corporate Legacy backgrounds were sensible enough not to abuse their clout to settle childish squabbles, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t.
Not to mention that I was ostensibly the archetypical spoiled, bratty villainous—she who trampled over everything and everyone in the pursuit of her happiness. Confronting me despite knowing the risks spoke volumes about her character, suggesting that it wasn’t smart to confront her directly. But perhaps her presence presented a unique pathway for me to reach my goal.
“Is that so? Then I am truly sorry,” I said.
Ms. Chiaki looked relieved. “R-Really? Good. Then, if you understand—”
“Truly sorry for believing one of low birth could do better. I was a fool to trust in my better instincts.”
“Ms. Sakurazaka!” Ms. Chiaki’s voice, sharp and clear, cut through the noise of the gymnasium, drawing the attention of everyone present. The once noisy room fell into a tense silence.
I waited for this moment to speak. “Nonoka. Now why don’t you be a good little general student and play with the other good general boys and girls?”
My blatant display of classism resonated through the gym, causing an immediate stir. Concerned voices surrounded Nonoka, while looks of disapproval were directed at me, painting me as the heartless tyrant.
“M-Ms. Sakurazaka, apologize right now!” Ms. Chiaki’s voice rose above the commotion.
“Oh, but I have apologized,” I retorted, feigning nonchalance. “For misplacing my trust. Now, I must excuse myself; my feet are quite sore.”
She struggled to hold back her anger. “S-See me after class, young lady!”
Instead of a curtsy, I brought my right hand to my chest and extended my left hand out behind me, performing a sarcastic bow and scrape. Then, I pivoted sharply on my heels to leave. Shannon started to follow, but a look from me told her to stay put. I made my way out of the gym, down the corridor, and into the courtyard, where I collapsed onto a bench. The pain was almost unbearable as I removed my athletic shoes, revealing socks soaked with blood. My blisters, aggravated by the dance, had burst.
“If only I had trained more, this wouldn’t have happened,” I muttered, reflecting on the painful blisters and calluses that were the result of my intense training over the past few days.