The distinct crunch of potato chips and wrinkling of a foil bag filled Yayoi's ears. As the sun beamed down on her, she pondered the same two questions she always had. First, why was snacking on the school's rooftop exit always so enjoyable? Second (and more importantly), why were chili squid chicken and beef potato chips top tier? In fact, they were so good that Yayoi always kept a bag of them in her pack. Maybe it was the spiciness of it all, or perhaps the fact that it contained the power of the sea, sky, and land. Whatever the case was, the local conbini always contained had a shelf full of them. It was as though nobody ever
bought them, but that couldn't be the case, right? They were good chips.
As she munched and lounged, she suddenly shot up. Wasn't she supposed to be at her club?
She took a deep breath and put the mostly empty back in her pack.
Hopping off of the rooftop exit, she hit the ground running. Instantly performing a 180, she flung open the door and stormed down the stairs. Like a movie straight out of the good-vibe 80's, she slid down the railings on her posterior. Though, that was less because she was in a rush and more because it was fun. Seeing Yayoi storm through the school wasn't a new sight for the students. It usually only happened at lunch time, especially on days where they sold the mint chocolate chip and condensed milk yakisoba jumbo melon bread. Which was especially odd, since she was the only person who actually bought it.
The path to the club was filled with students shuffling to their own club after the schoolday was over.. By now, most of the students learned to get out of the way when they heard the telltale clapping and screeching of her shoes. Those who didn't were suddenly surprised by a flying Yayoi, leaping onto the ground to avoid them, only to get up and keep running. In fact, she did that twice to two freshman on the way over, landing on her pack with a unique crunch.
Her mad dashing wasn't panic, no siree. It was 100% pure and unmitigated efficiency in moving from one location to another.
When she finally reached the door, her rush instantly vanished. She carefully opened the door to an unfamiliar figure sitting where their mentor should have been.
Yayoi stared at him for a brief moment. As always, it was like a fish staring at one while in its throes of death.
And, just as slow and carefully as she opened the door, she shut it and took a few steps back. That certainly was new. Did she have the right club? It was unusual of her to mistake the entrance of her club, considering how she'd been opening the same door for the past two years. She gave the entrance an ocular pat down. It was the same as it always was, which was weird.
She carefully opened the door a second time, but stuck her head in and peered towards the students in the room. Familiar faces. She had the right room after all.
With a shrug, she walked in to her usual seat. Always exactly two seats behind Sorano. The reason? Avoidance, mostly. The pure, unadulterated lounging that Yayoi did was the exact opposite of her. Just being in her field of view made the young Kon feel pretty self-conscious about her actions. If Sorano was a hard type A, Yayoi was a type b
. With a lazy peace sign shot to the teacher, Yayoi was finished her greetings to him. There were definitely new faces in the club. Well, that didn't really matter. What did matter was her bag of chips. She reached over into her front pack and pulled out the open—and now crushed—pack of chips. Now reduced to dust, she did what any aspiring patrician would do: lounge in her chair, place the foil bag over her face, and let the crumbs fall into her mouth.