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[hr][right][color=gray]April 7th, Year Negotiable.[/color][/right][hr]Kanna sat back against the dumpster, flipping through the photos she’d taken with barely-suppressed glee. Between the skateboard javelining, Sakaguchi’s glamour shot, and the candids of Shiori and Totsuka blowing smoke beside the sports shed, the front page was going to be spoiled for choice. 

What a way to start the year. Maybe this didn’t lead anywhere—assault was hard to ignore, but Sakaguchi wasn’t exactly a local hero, and sad as it was she doubted school officials were chomping at the bit to defend him. But hey, if it did, she’d be plastering the takedown of the Utsubyo Ogre all over her college applications. This was way bigger than the Familymart Weasels, and almost as big as the Pic-Land apple seed scandal. A few more like this, and Kanna was sure she’d have internships clawing each other’s throats out just to get ahold of her. 

[color=c0c0c0]"Whatever the fuck you think you're doing: don't. This ain't a request."[/color]

Kanna yelped, but thankfully this time she slapped her uncasted hand over her mouth. Shiori and Totsuka had passed—she hadn’t even heard them coming, oops—but the big fellow had stopped to mad dog her, and give some less-than-subtle advice before stomping off. 

She sat there for a few more moments, quiet, before peering out to find that she was alone. A smirk wormed its way onto her face. 

[color=92278f]“Well boy howdy buckaroo, you betcha,”[/color] she mumbled in her best—or worst—kansai accent. He’d said it himself, it wasn’t a request. If he wasn’t asking, then she didn’t have to answer. 

Lunch was all but over, and Kanna headed back into the classroom still unbothered by her lost sandwich. What was there to mourn, really? She had a full plate now, and she’d be chewing on this story all night.