2.68: Blocking and Unlocking

Our bike ride to school felt the way it used to, so exciting especially after so long.

It was an emotional rush and an excuse to hold each other in public, enjoying each other’s warmth in plain sight. Other students heading toward our school stared openly at us for some reason, some elbowing each other, and others pointing. Some jaws even dropped. There were warm smiles, but a few of the boys were openly disappointed.

Maybe there was something different about the faces we made and the mood coming from us.

We passed all sorts of people going about their usual morning routines also.

Soon, we rode past the front of my house. My mom happened to be outside, tending to the garden. Maybe it was a coincidence. If so, she was probably getting an early start to getting yard work chores done. She paused when she saw us. I waved at her, one arm wrapped around Aoi-chan’s waist.

Aoi-chan noticed her and nodded politely to my mom. We kept going.

When we reached Oba-chan’s store, she froze mid-sweeping when she saw us back aboard my bike. For once, she completely broke character and grinned.

“Do your best, you both!”

I waved back at her happily, my heart feeling very full.

We reached the intersection where Hinata and Megumi usually joined the route, and they were already there, waiting for the signal or me. They stared at us for a long moment. Hinata blushed and looked away, a small smile tugging at her lips, almost in sharp contrast with her feelings towards yuri at Shirasuna.

Megumi’s face bloomed into a broad grin. She rushed over without hesitation and hugged us both when Aoi stopped pedaling.

“It’s good to see you two back together,” she said brightly. “I’ll make sure I put extra effort into directing our play rehearsals now! Don’t think you can keep slacking off, Sumire-chan!” She wagged a finger at me.

She’d taken it easy on me the last several weeks, knowing how fragile I’d been on the inside.

I nodded. “Un!” I grinned. “I wouldn’t have it any other way! I’ll do my best to be a great prince.” I glanced at Aoi-chan. “All I have to do is act like Aoi-chan.”

Aoi blushed, saying nothing. I wondered if everyone’s attention made her a little shyer than usual.

Hinata and Megumi giggled. Other students nearby continued to glance our way, curious about us.

It was almost overwhelming for me too, but I was so happy I didn’t care what they saw, heard or thought about us, so I gave Aoi a hug from behind.

The intersection signal finally chimed its melody, and the lights changed, indicating it was our turn to cross. I lifted my leg back onto the bolt and Aoi-chan pedaled us smoothly across.

We faced many more reactions as we reached the school. We parked my bike at the racks and walked inside to the shoe lockers. We swapped our outdoor shoes for slippers side by side together.

When we went upstairs, we held hands as we climbed and headed together down the hallway toward Class 2-B. Our mood definitely seemed to make us more conspicuous than usual. More of the other students looked at us. Several of them stared a little too long at our joined hands, faces heating with recognition or suspicion.

It was probably obvious to anyone now that we were deeply in love, especially for those who knew what to look for even with two girls.

When we stepped into homeroom from the hallway… Riko’s jaw completely dropped. She wouldn’t fail to notice our joined hands.

Yuna watched quietly, her eyes flicking from our fingers to my face. She smiled and flashed us a small victory sign from her desk.

She really confused me. It felt like as long as everyone was happy, she was satisfied.

“Um… I guess…” I started, flustered, and loosened my grip on Aoi’s hand.

Aoi-chan immediately squeezed my hand and led me to my desk, then calmly pulled out her old chair beside me and sat down like nothing had ever changed between us.

DOKI-DOKI

“Don’t be so silly,” she said lightly. “Do you think I could resist reclaiming my old desk? I’m glad no one took it.”

“Me too,” I said, my heart fluttering.

A low murmur spread through the room, some of it about us, some of it just the usual morning noise.

Hinata and Megumi hurried in just a little later, sliding into their seats as the last of our classmates filtered in. Chairs scraped on the floor and bags were stowed.

After a moment, Kurosawa-sensei entered the classroom.

“Good morning,” she said brightly, lifting a hand in greeting.

Her eyes landed quickly on Aoi-chan, then on my face. She paused and beamed.

“A very good morning, I see.”

I blushed without knowing why.

Daichi stood. “Rise!”

We all stood together.

“Bow.”

We bowed together.

Kurosawa-sensei began the roll call, her tone light and efficient, then clasped her hands once as she finished.

“Alright, everyone. We have four days left before the cultural festival! The play will be performed this Saturday at midday,” she said. “That means rehearsals will be running every day after classes starting immediately.”

A ripple of attention went through the room.

“The sets are nearly complete,” she continued. “We’ll be focusing on final assembly, placement, and transitions this week. Anyone assigned to background adjustments, stay after rehearsal today to coordinate.”

Her gaze moved toward Hinata.

“Costumes are in their final phase,” Kurosawa-sensei said. “Most of them are finished, but there are still a few detail touches to complete. Please prioritize finishing any last adjustments, Mori.”

Hinata nodded quickly, her cheeks pink.

“As for the cast,” Kurosawa-sensei went on, “we’ll be tightening the timing, cues, and emotional delivery. This is the week where everything we’ve been working on comes together.”

She smiled, clasping her hands together as she finished speaking, clearly pleased.

“Let’s do our best to make this play memorable.”

The room buzzed softly with anticipation as she transitioned into the rest of the morning announcements.

Classes blurred together after Kurosawa-sensei’s announcement.

I remember standing when told to stand, opening my notebook when told to open it, writing things down that felt strangely unimportant compared to the tight coiling in my chest. 

Four days. Only four days left!

The thought made everything feel heavier, like time itself was leaning forward.

Aoi-chan sat beside me and everything felt like it was back to normal but more. She didn’t try to hide our love anymore either. I blushed and smiled softly at her, reaching across the aisle to touch her hand without hiding it. I nearly missed an entire explanation about verb conjugation because my heart wouldn’t stop racing.

DOKI-DOKI

By the time the last bell rang, the classroom felt like it exhaled all at once.

“Alright, play cast,” Kurosawa-sensei said, clapping her hands. “We’ll rehearse in the gym now. We need to focus on blocking and timing, especially. No wandering off. Today is about tightening everything for your performance.”

Chairs scraped and bags were slung over shoulders as everyone rose. The energy shifted immediately.

As we filed out, I felt it, everyone’s looks. They were as curious and knowing as this morning. Those who might be against our relationship weren’t hostile exactly, just… aware of us, of our feelings. Some whispered my name. Others whispered Aoi-chan’s. I squeezed her hand once before letting go so we could walk properly.

Aoi leaned at me, murmuring, “You ready, my prince?”

“I think so,” I whispered back. “Don’t laugh if I mess up.”

Aoi smiled. “Never.”

The gym had been transformed into something that felt half-real and half-imagined.

Set pieces lined the walls, the ones that were meant for the inside of the castle, ones for the village outside the briar patch surrounding the castle, one grand set depicting the castle choked with thorny vines, the royal bath, the throne room, the tower, sections of a forest backdrop still drying, a raised platform meant to become the tower with a door, taller than the rest. The smell of wet paint and sawdust mixed with the echo of voices and footsteps.

“Positions!” Kurosawa-sensei called.

We moved quickly. There was no confusion, no awkward shuffling.

That surprised me.

When Megumi decided to start with the scene where Aurora would wake up, I took my place opposite Riko. She was wearing her uniform skirt and blazer instead of her costume. There could be no accidents before the play. She met my eyes, and for just a moment her expression flickered—soft and uncertain. Then she straightened.

“From the awakening scene,” Kurosawa-sensei said. “Music cue after the second line.”

A piano recording was played.

I stepped forward, and Riko lay down on the couch that we’d gotten for the scene, smoothing her skirt and folding her hands over her chest, trying very hard to make it look like perfect repose. Her lashes fluttered once before she stilled them, her breath evening out as she stared up at the gym lights, practicing perfect stillness.

My body moved the way it was supposed to. Aoi-chan’s training kicked in without me having to think.

Posture, balance, awareness of my surroundings, about how I moved.

It was amazing how martial arts had prepared me for things that had nothing to do with fighting at all… like acting.

I didn’t shrink from my role, nor did I hesitate.

“Princess Aurora,” I said, my voice steady, “wake, and see the world that has breathlessly waited for you.”

Riko lay still.

For a heartbeat, then another, nothing happened.

The room held its breath with her.

I stepped forward, as the blocking required, close enough that I could feel the warmth of her even through the space between us. Her lashes fluttered once, just barely.

We were supposed to mock a kiss here, at least a suggestion of one. I released the ribbon I’d tied back my hair with and slipped it into my skirt’s waistband, securing it in place. From the right angle, it would act as a screen, blocking our lips from the audience’s view when I leaned forward.

Then I paused close enough to Riko to make an imaginary audience lean forward, but not actually see anything…

Riko leaned up…

And pressed her lips to mine, shocking me.

My eyes widened and I blushed.

RIKO-CHAN!

It was quick, barely there, soft enough that it could almost be mistaken for imagination.

A collective inhalation of breath rippled through the room, then laughter erupted.

No one could miss Riko’s lunge. She’d put her whole upper body into it.

From the corner of my vision, I saw Aoi-chan had stiffened just slightly. Her arms were still folded, her face carefully neutral, but her jaw tightened for a heartbeat before she relaxed again.

I froze.

My body locked in place by instinct, my posture still perfect, my outside balance thankfully unbroken.

Aoi-chan’s training held me upright even as my heart tried to leap out of my chest.

Riko pulled back just as quickly.

Only then did she lift her chin and meet my gaze.

“Is it really… morning?” she said softly, her voice trembling just enough to sound genuine. “Have I truly been asleep all this time?”

Around us, I could feel the eyes of the rest of the class, extras and actors that we’d had to borrow from other classes to fill every role.

Their looks weren’t judging, instead measuring. They were gauging whether we’d lose control of the scene over Riko’s stunt.

My breath caught so sharply I almost forgot my next line. Heat rushed to my face, my thoughts scattering all at once.

Martial arts balance didn’t help with everything.

DOKI—DOKI

Riko held her expression carefully innocent for a second too long, then her cheeks betrayed her, blooming pink as the moment finally caught up with what she’d just done.

Was that kiss impulsive rather than intentional?

The gym went very quiet.

I forced myself to breathe, planting my feet the way Aoi-chan had drilled into me, trying to project a little masculinity, even though in the play we were both girls, and answered her, steadying my voice into something that I felt would fit a prince.

“…Yes,” I said softly. “Morning has finally come. And you’re here with me.”

“Cut,” Megumi said briskly, stepping forward with her script. “Riko, save kissing for the stage.”

Riko spun toward her, her face blazing. “But!!! Being flustered is really realistic, isn’t it? Aurora just woke up after years. There’s no way that she would be calm when her prince came for her!”

Megumi paused.

She actually thought about it.

“…That’s true,” she admitted slowly. “But Princess Aurora was asleep, baka. A princess like her needs to project serenity at all times, even if she’s a little rebellious. Confusion can show a little underneath, but it can’t swallow the whole scene.”

She turned to me next, her eyes sharp but kind. “And Prince, try to look a little less bothered by the kiss.”

I froze.

“Try to think of her like she’s Aoi…” Megumi added casually. “Someone you’re completely comfortable with kissing.”

Everyone’s reaction to her quip was instant. Mine was even faster.

I felt my face ignite. Aoi-chan choked softly and looked away. Someone snorted. Most everyone laughed.

Riko blinked, almost flushing even harder than me.

Megumi clapped her hands once. “Alright! Quiet down everyone! Sumire-chan and Riko-chan, please reset positions. Again from the awakening until we get the timing right.”

I swallowed, nodding.

As we stepped back into place, Riko avoided my eyes, then glanced at me once, searching to see how I felt about what she’s done. Her embarrassment faded, replaced with a kind of intent as she lay back again.

My heart thudded almost painfully.

DOKI-DOKI

This play was going to be dangerous.

Yuna stood at the edge of the marked stage, the script lowered at her side.

When Kurosawa-sensei gave her the cue, she stepped forward.

The air changed.

She didn’t rush. She let one heel settle, then the other, each step deliberate. When she stopped, she looked at me, not with anger, not even disdain, but with the calm certainty of someone who had already won.

I tightened my grip on the prop sword.

“Still you come,” Yuna said softly, her voice carrying without effort. “So small. So earnest.”

She tilted her head, studying me as though I were something fragile she might break by accident.

“You were warned,” she continued. “Every kingdom was warned. Love invites ruin. Hope invites despair.” Her lips curved, just barely. “And yet you chose to believe you were exempt.”

I swallowed and held my ground, lifting the blade as the blocking required. My feet stayed planted. My posture didn’t collapse.

Yuna’s gaze flicked to the sword, unimpressed.

“A toy,” she murmured. “Raised by a child who thinks courage is enough.”

She took one slow step closer, the hem of her costume whispering against the floor.

“Tell me, Prince,” she said, her voice lowering, almost kind. “When the world burns… what do you intend to save?”

There was a chilling moment of silence.

Then her expression cooled completely.

“You cannot stop what has already begun.”

She raised her hand.

That was the cue.

From the wings, the stage crew surged forward in silence. The dragon frame slid into view behind her, scales unfurling as students snapped into position. The neck lifted first, joint by joint, followed by the head, the jaws opening wide.

The lightweight construction was supported by articulated joints, its body guided by long control sticks that should have been better hidden once they were fully onstage.

One of the crew members thrust her stick forward, and fabric flames burst out with a soft whumph, rippling convincingly as the wings flexed and the claws scraped against the stage.

Gasps broke out around the gym, even though everyone knew this part would be practiced. The dragon team needed to perfect their performance as well.

Yuna stepped back at precisely the right moment as the dragon completed its rise, the transformation finished.

No one needed to remind Yuna that Maleficent didn’t need to react to her own power. Her poise was perfect and quietly imperious.

I raised my sword on cue, my heart pounding with excitement.

They’d done such a good job on the dragon that, for a split second, I could almost believe I was really facing one, the way they made it undulate.

I smoothed my expression, forcing my focus back into place.

From the corner of my vision, I saw Aoi-chan leaning against a wall, her arms folded. She was watching me the way she always did when she was proud and trying not to show it.

When our eyes met, she nodded once.

I felt encouraged.

“Good,” Megumi said as the scene came down. “Very good, dragon team! The transformation timing is right where it needs to be.” She tapped her clipboard and spoke to everyone else, “Tomorrow we add more emotional emphasis on the lines. Don’t just memorize the lines… feel them.”

I swallowed.

Feel them.

By the time rehearsal ended, the whispers about us had grown strong roots.

In the hallway, someone muttered, “So it’s true…”

“What was with Tachibana-san and Shinohara-san on stage?”

“Weren’t Shinohara-san and Kurobane-san back together?”

In the changing room, Mizuhara-san glanced at me, then deliberately looked away, her cheeks already pink. She leaned toward Hanazono-san and whispered something under her breath.

Hanazono-san stifled a giggle and nudged her sharply in the ribs, hissing something back.

A few lockers down, Kisaragi-san flicked her eyes up from tying her shoes, took in the scene in a single pass, and smirked without saying a word.

I changed quietly, my heart still humming from the events of the day.

Aoi-chan waited for me outside the gym, her hair already tied back. She was wearing the steel-blue ribbon I’d bought her, the color catching the light just enough to draw my eyes to it. It matched her eyes so well it made my chest ache.

I was surprised to see it in her hair. She hadn’t worn it this morning to school. I hadn’t even thought about it. She’d somehow hidden it from me, all for this moment.

And my heart fluttered and my eyes nearly filled with happy tears.

“Ready for our training?” she asked.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

The sun was already sinking, the familiar concrete and shadows welcoming us back.

Rumors could do what they wanted.

Here, this moment between us was real.

Aoi-chan dropped into her stance and smiled at me, sharp and warm all at once.

“Alright, Sumire,” she said. “Let’s make you stronger.”

I raised my hands.

DOKI-DOKI

And we stepped towards each other.

I can't fix Riko's blazer. The image generator is still completely incompetent.