“Oh! And that’s a pin for Izanagi Tsutsumi, and another win for the Shibuya Stars! The Lions still have a four-match advantage, so they’re taking the tournament, but individual championships are still very much at stake here with one match to go!” The announcer whooped excitedly into his microphone, doing his best to rile the crowd of exhausted parents and students. The tournament had run long, and it was after ten at night.
Even the Yusue cheerleaders were running on fumes, and they only performed every few minutes between matches.
“We’re going to take a short break here, wrestling fans, but when we come back, it’s our last match and our top weight class! Will the city champion be Shibuya’s Hiroyuki Nagakawa, or Yusue’s Saburo Kimura? Stay tuned, and we’ll find out!”
Ranko rolled her eyes at the sound of her former stalker’s name, but she rose from her folding chair alongside Tamiko and Yori. I can’t believe they’re gonna make me dance for that son of a bitch. At least it’s the last match. I’ll never have to see this clown again after tonight.
Shiori walked back from the audio booth, shaking her pom-poms in mocking excitement in Saburo’s direction as he stretched by the Yusue bench. “You got this, Saburo! Whoooo!” She kicked her leg high in the air.
From his stretched position on the rubber gym floor, Saburo flashed the cheer captain a wolfish grin. Yeah, I know, you want me. They all do.
“Go, Saburo! Get him, baby!” came an over-excited yell from a blonde woman in her late forties in the fourth row of the bleachers, and Saburo hung his head, groaning. You’re embarrassing me in front of the girls, Mom. Sheesh, take a pill already.
Ranko sauntered disinterestedly to her position to start the final planned performance, a team dance to Step by Step from the New Kids on the Block. She wasn’t a huge fan of this boy band craze the United States was falling into, and it wasn’t really her style in terms of songs to cover at the Phoenix, but they usually made for decent choreography at least, especially for multiple dancers.
Shiori waved the girls in, and her thirteen fellow cheerleaders huddled around her. “Okay, ladies! This is it! For me and the other seniors, this is our last dance before graduation. Let’s leave it all out there!” At that, Ranko couldn’t help but find a reserve of energy and excitement, whooping alongside her squadmates. Shiori had been a good friend the last few months, and Ranko really was going to miss her next school year. Not to mention, her departure would leave Ranko as the heir apparent to the squad captaincy, and she had no idea what she was going to do with it.
Still, Shiori couldn’t help but notice the redhead glaring over at the hulking wrestler completing his pre-match stretches. She grinned, nudging Ranko with one of her pom-poms. “Hey, star! You with us over there?”
Ranko snapped her eyes back to Shiori. “Yeah. I just… I know we’re supposed to want him to win ‘cause he’s from our school and all, but…”
“But you think he deserves to get his ass kicked?” Tanda flashed her a little smirk, giving Shiori a knowing nod.
Ranko cringed, but nodded. “Is that bad?”
Shiori rubbed her chin. “I mean, actively cheering for our own school to lose wouldn’t be a good look for a cheerleading squad. A squad captain who allowed that to happen would probably be in a lot of trouble.”
The redhead nodded. “Yeah, I know. I guess I can act excited one more ti…” She stopped mid-sentence as Shiori raised her hand to pause her.
“If he choked on his own, though, I don’t think they could blame us.” Shiori grinned deviously, motioning with two fingers to Suzume in the audio booth.
“Dude’s undefeated. He never ch…” Ranko’s words audibly caught in her throat at a familiar sound raining down on her from the gym’s sound system.
“Na, na-na, na, na, na-na, nuh-uh!”
Ranko blinked at Shiori with wide eyes. “You can’t be serious! We can’t perform this at school!”
Her co-captain shrugged, grinning. “I graduate next week. What are they gonna do, kick me off the squad?” She poked at Ranko with her pom-pom. “Fuck ‘em. Let’s do this, girls, one last time!”
In the fifth row of the bleachers, a girl with short black hair covered her grinning mouth with both of her hands, her eyes wide with surprise. Her left hand bore an identical ring to the one on Ranko’s right. Holy shit, babe, Akane thought with a sadistic chuckle. You’re gonna do it to him again?
As the girls whooped and ran to their positions, Saburo turned his head, still sprawled out on the gym floor mid-stretch. You can’t be fucking serious…
“Na, na-na, na, na, na-na, not yours!”
Ranko gave him a little wave, wiggling her fingers cutely with an exaggerated pop-idol wink as she took her position. She’d been a little suspicious when Shiori had put together choreography for the song a few weeks ago at practice, but her friend had explained it away as something they were doing just for fun, in celebration of Ranko’s devastation of the lecherous prick from the stage of the Phoenix.
As she took her position at the front of the formation, Ranko beamed at the audience’s reaction to recognizing Not Yours, Don’t Touch. She wondered how many of them knew the original subject of the song sat on the rubber gym floor not eight meters from her, but it was nice to have her stuff recognized either way. She felt a little awkward that she was front-and-center in the group’s choreography so often of late, but Shiori had convinced her that it made sense when they were performing to one of Ranko’s songs. “Who else would lead that,” her co-captain had said, and Ranko couldn’t really dispute her reasoning. Mostly, she was keen to prevent another situation where her squadmates thought she was trying to be above the rest of the group, as that had nearly cost her their friendship once before.
“You think that if you follow me around, then I’ll give in to you. I probably should tell you straight: I’m really not that into you! The way you chase me everywhere is gettin’ kinda scary, so I’m here to send the message to you clearly, and in stereo!”
Ranko tossed her pom-poms to the ground, placing her right hand on her hip, popping her body back and forth at the waist as she rotated, trying to make eye contact with as many members of the audience as possible as she moved. However little energy she’d had a few moments before, the earnest excitement of her fans was always a shot in her arm.
“You must see how I look and think that I’m a perfect angel, ‘cause you didn’t seem concerned that when I’m mad, I’m really dangerous!”
At least she used the radio-safe version, Ranko thought as she flashed a cute smile, framing her chin with her hands at the perfect angel line.
Ranko bent at the waist, running her hand slowly up her bare leg toward the hem of her skirt, biting her tongue provocatively.
“You wanna be the guy for me? Oh, man, you must be joking! If I feel your fingers on my dress again, they’ll wind up broken!”
The girls behind her formed two parallel lines of six cheerleaders each, a meter apart, with Kou joining the two at the back. As they swished their pom-poms in the corridor they created, Ranko turned, bopping on her heels as she stalked down the path between the two lines.
“I know that you want me, boy, I understand!” Ranko reached to her left, pushing Yori gently in the chest with a limp wrist. Yori fell backward into a backflip, separating herself from the line.
“But I’m gonna have to ask you, boy…” Taking a few more steps through the aisle the girls created, she reached to her right, pushing Tamiko back the same way. Tamiko also responded with a backflip out of the line.
Three more steps placed Ranko between Aoi and Tanda, who both leaned in and reached for her shoulders.
“... to watch your hands!”
She spun to face the crowd, reaching out with both arms, and the girls on either side of her launched into back twists. It was hard not to grin, what with essentially the whole of the student body in attendance singing along with her chorus. And on his turf, too.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
The remaining girls in the lines fell into a triangle formation behind Ranko, each placing their left hands on their hips and their right hands in the air, holding up their index finger in synchronization with their incoming captain. With each of the staccato notes of her chorus, the girls popped their hips to one side and then the other, their outstretched fingers wagging admonishingly as well.
“You should know by now that isn’t so polite. To. Do. Keep your fingers off of things that don’t belong. To. You!”
The four girls who had flipped out of the formation picked up long poles adorned with gymnast ribbons from the floor closest to the Yusue bench and formed a wide square around the group. Kou stepped back, and the other eight cheerleaders huddled around Ranko in a tight circle, obscuring her from the view of the crowd.
“Boy, I never really liked you that much…”
Ranko threw her hands straight up in the air, and all eight girls surrounding Ranko launched themselves into backflips away from her like a flower blooming, each executing a double twist in mid-air. Ranko gave a dismissive smirk and a spritely shrug to the crowd as she was left alone.
“Not yours! Don’t touch!”
Aoi, Tanda, Tamiko and Yori spun the white poles they held over their shoulders at the corners of the formation, twirling the red ribbons streaming from them around their bodies as the sound of a bullwhip crackled through the aging gym sound system.
“I understand your thinking, dude! You’re diggin’ my aesthetic, but the problem is, your vibe is coming off as just pathetic. Yeah, don’t think that I don’t know you’re trying, boy, but you’re not able. I’m too hot for you to handle; should’ve read the warning label!”
It was small comfort to Saburo that they had shortened the song for the performance and omitted a few of the more venomous verses. He remained transfixed in horror on the gymnasium floor as the fourteen most popular girls in school drove another nail into the coffin of his social status with each movement of their hips. Thank the gods I’m graduating, and I can get the hell out of this school.
“The fact you even think you’re in my league is just adorable. I’ve seen you at your best, and boy, your best is freakin’ horrible. So, think about the way you act, and maybe re-evaluate. You can’t get with me for a second, let alone a second date!”
As the other ten girls ringed them in a series of cartwheels, Ranko, Tamiko, Yori and Aoi formed a line, all of them miming a laugh and waving dismissively with the backs of their right hands at the last line. It was a nice, subtle touch in the choreography on Shiori’s part, Ranko thought, having the sentiment highlighted by the four girls on the squad that no boy would ever get to date.
Aoi split off to join her squadmates behind the trio of Tamiko, Ranko, and Yori, all of whom turned to their left and placed both their palms on their midriffs, swaying their hips lithely with deeply bent knees, their eyes closed.
“I know that you want me, boy, I understand. But I’m gonna have to ask you, boy, to…”
The three girls extended their left arms toward the crowd, palms raised in a stop gesture. Behind them, the other eleven cheerleaders simultaneously launched into back handsprings with a single twist.
The audience were on their feet, shaking their fists. Ranko’s own voice coming from the speakers was drowned out by the three thousand or so occupants of the beige plastic bleachers.
“WATCH! YOUR! HANDS!”
Tamiko reached forward toward Ranko’s back, and the redhead made a show of turning to swat her hand away gently.
“You should know by now that isn’t so polite to do.”
Ranko spun back to her right, swatting one of Yori’s hands away as well.
“Keep your fingers off of things that don’t belong to you!”
Ranko crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head with a smirk as Tamiko and Yori both mimed slinking away from her in disgrace.
“Yeah, nobody really likes you that much!”
The eleven cheerleaders who had done the back handsprings all placed their right hands on their hips and extended their left hands in the air.
“Not yours!”
They brought their left arms down, extending them in front of themselves in the same stop gesture.
“Don’t touch!”
The girls formed two circles of seven cheerleaders each that intersected like a Venn diagram, skipping in line as each of the two circles rotated independently.
“Na, na-na, na, na, na-na, nuh-uh! Na, na-na, na, na, na-na, Not yours! Na, na-na, na, na, na-na, nuh-uh! Na, na-na, na, na, na-na, Not yours!”
Ranko smirked darkly, remembering the last time she encountered Saburo in this building. What he’d said to her. The reason she’d written the next verse to begin with.
“You thought that if you spread some lies, I’d play your little scene?”
Ranko ran a few steps forward, breaking her assigned position in the choreography. She rested her chin on her fist, looking right down at Saburo on the floor and beaming victoriously. I’m coming to take what’s yours, asshole.
“Well, you’re in my castle now, and on this stage? All hail the queen.”
From less than a meter away, Ranko stared down at her former stalker as she undulated her hips. The other cheerleaders maintained their positions, dancing in place, but they could certainly forgive their co-captain for wanting to savor this part.
Ugh, Nozomi Kimura mused as the song continued. What kind of jerk would do something like that to a poor girl? And why does that cheerleader seem so interested in involving my Saburo?
“Hey, are you okay? You’re looking like your confidence is laggin’. Guess that’s the price you pay when losers try to dance with Dragons!”
Ranko jogged back over to her place at the head of the formation, her eyes opening wide as she covered her open mouth with her hand. All the other cheerleaders placed their left hands on their hearts, reaching out toward her in a semicircle behind her.
“I don’t know what went through your head. She’s hot, I’m gonna date her!”
The girls rushed in, the semicircle now almost completely surrounding Ranko with the girls all within arms’ reach.
“Boy, my Rise was meteoric. Now?”
All thirteen of Ranko’s squadmates stiffened, dead-falling onto their backs like dominoes away from her as Ranko crouched, punching the ground in a superhero landing pose.
“I’ll leave you in a crater.”
As her fellow cheerleaders kickflipped back to their feet, Ranko made an exaggerated roll of her eyes, shaking her head exasperatedly.
“Your lines are tired and laughable. I’m burning with desire?”
Ranko felt a pair of strong hands grip her by the hips, lifting her from behind until she stood on Kou’s shoulders. She extended her arms wide as Kou braced Ranko’s ankles with her hands.
“Boy, you’re talking to a Phoenix girl, and I was born in fire!”
She launched herself into the air off of Kou’s shoulders in a triple twist, landing in the basket catch of Shiori and Etsuko.
As Ranko, Kou, Shiori and Etsuko disentangled from the stunt, the other ten cheerleaders looped around behind them, forming a semicircle again. Each turned their bodies sideways, facing into the center of the circle. The girls facing left had their right hands on their hips, and vice-versa for the girls facing right.
“Dude, she’s never gonna like you that much!”
Shiori, Etsuko and Kou huddled behind Ranko, crouching somewhat to allow the other ten cheerleaders’ arms to reach over their shoulders. All thirteen girls extended their arms to the crowd, their palms raised in the stop gesture as if protecting their new captain as Ranko crossed her arms cockily.
“Not yours! Don’t touch!”
The girls giggled and performed little ad-hoc kicks and flips as they exited the gymnasium floor toward their seats. Shiori ran up to Ranko, draping her arm over the smaller girl’s shoulders. “Now, that was fucking fun.”
Shiori led her co-captain to the folding chair where she’d been sitting, pulling out a small square package and a marker from the silver nylon gym bag strapped to the back of her seat.
“C’mere, Ran-chan. This is gonna be great.”
----------------------------------------
“FUCK!”
With a roar, Saburo flipped the long wooden bench in the Yusue locker room over to its side on the umber tile floor. For all four years of his high school wrestling career, he’d been undefeated, and now he’d lost his senior championship match by pin in the first fifteen seconds. Fucking bitch got in my head, that’s all. She had to have done that shit on purpose!
“Hey! Take it easy, Kimura! You lost. It happens. Suck it up, man!” Coach Jibara clapped the wrestler on the shoulder. “If it’ll cheer you up, a cute girl came by a few minutes ago and dropped off a present for you. I left it at your locker.”
Saburo sighed, hanging his head with a dejected nod as he lumbered to the last locker on the east wall. True to the coach’s word, a small red gift bag with silver tissue paper poking out of the top lay on the floor in front of his locker door.
“What the…?”
Saburo sat on the bench, fishing down in the bottom of the bag with his hand until he felt a plastic square, just a few millimeters thick and about fifteen centimeters to a side. He pulled it out, and as soon as his eyes fell on it, he groaned dejectedly, throwing it forcefully back in the bag atop the tissue paper.
Staring up at him were the eyes of Ranko Tendo, on the cover of the CD for her first album, Phoenix Rising. Written in marker under her smiling face were just a few words:
Happy graduation! I’ll never forget you, Saburo! ~ Ranko ❤️