Phoenix Ascendant
Book Nine: Soar
“Gods, I’ve missed you!” Ranko giggled brightly, squeezing her friend tight as she spun her around in an excited hug, Kumiko's feet flailing in the air behind her.
Kumiko blushed as she was returned to her feet, smoothing her red school pinafore. “I’ve missed you too, Ran-chan! What have you been up to? Wedding stuff? You’ve gotta tell me everything!”
“Ey, Ranko! See you at practice Thursday!” Yori waved enthusiastically as she strode to her first period class. “Repeat All-Tokyo Invitational champs, here we come!”
Ranko smiled, tucking a wisp of flame-red hair behind her ear. She remembered tiptoeing down this same vocational high school corridor on the first day of school a year ago, feeling utterly alone. She’d half-expected a dragon, a lecher, or maybe even a lecherous dragon to be lurking behind every locker and classroom door. She’d stared with sadness and jealousy as everyone else reunited with their friends after the school break, and felt as if she would forever be an alien presence on the outside looking into their world. But now, she felt like she belonged. People were excited to see her, and she had people she was excited to see.
I am wanted, I have worth, and I have people who care about me. And it feels fucking great.
“Let me see your schedule!” Kumiko pulled out a yellow slip of folded paper. “I’ve got art first period, then English and Japanese, lunch, science, precalculus, and home skills. You?”
Ranko handed over her own schedule with a blushing smile. “Looks like we’re gonna have English, science, and math together! Cool!”
She was a little bummed Akane had talked her out of taking another year of home skills, especially now that she knew she could have taken it alongside Kumiko. The soon-to-be-wed senior had pleaded with Akane. I’ve got so much catching up to do on this whole learning how to girl thing. I need the practice, she’d argued, but Akane had put her foot down and insisted Ranko use both of her senior electives on things she was actually passionate about for herself. “There’s nothing you need to know about cooking that your mom can’t teach you, and nothing about sewing Izumi can’t, if you really want to know,” Ranko’s future wife had argued, and she had won.
Kumiko looked up from Ranko’s schedule sheet with a skeptical smirk. “Music and dance classes? Really? Couldn’t you like, teach those? Talk about bird courses.”
Ranko blushed further; she had known her friend would call her out for her choice of electives. Well, I am a Phoenix, after all!" She laughed softly. "And, like, I can’t actually read notes and stuff, and that seems like it might be useful in my career choice, ya know? As for dance, they said they had to take an athletics class to graduate, and I wanted something easy. Besides, volleyball’s Akane’s thing, and gymnastics… no.” Last thing I need is to end up in a competition against Kodachi or anyone she trained with her dirty tricks. No thanks.
“I have to suffer through two math classes to graduate this year, Kumi. If they’d have offered Advanced Napping, I’d have signed up.”
Kumiko giggled. “I took that last year! They just called it geography.”
“Have you picked an extracurricular club yet,” Ranko asked, nudging her gently with her elbow.
The bespectacled girl shrugged. “Probably just gonna do manga club again, I guess. It’s pretty chill.”
Waving to Aoi as she passed, Ranko scoffed at her suggestion. “Didn’t you say you were super bored there last year?”
Her brunette friend nodded, a little sadly. For a girl who aspired to draw manga for a living, her fellow club members were far too casual and did not have much to offer her at all. “Yeah. Nobody there’s as into it as me, so it kinda feels like I’m talking to myself, ya know? But what else am I gonna do? I’m not into most of the other interest clubs, and the athletics clubs don’t want me.”
“Yeah,” Ranko said with a grin. Gotcha. “I definitely can’t think of any athletics clubs where your best friend is the squad captain and would do everything she could to get you ready. Completely drawing a blank.”
Kumiko blushed furiously. “Cheerleading?! Me? Are you out of your mind, Ranko? I’m nowhere near pretty enough for that!”
Ranko rolled her eyes at her friend’s dismissal. I was a boy three years ago. You’re doin’ fine, Kumi. “Bullshit. You told me last year how much you wanted to do it. We’ve lost a bunch of the girls from last year ‘cause they graduated, and we need all the help we can get out there.”
“I’d just embarrass you.” Kumiko averted her eyes shyly, blushing as she fidgeted with her hair.
“Hey,” Ranko said, clapping her hand on her friend’s shoulder over the strap of Kumiko’s messenger bag. “You couldn’t embarrass me if you tried, Kumi. You’ve been there for me through so much crap. You don’t have to do this for my sake. It’s an offer, not a request. But if you want it, and you’re willing to work for it, I’d be glad to help you make it happen. I feel like I owe it to ya.”
Her friend turned with a hopeful smile. “Well, I guess it could help me find a boyfriend…” Her grin grew more devious as she leaned in close to Ranko, lowering her voice to just above a whisper. “And at least this year, I know I’m not competing with you for boys…”
Ranko giggled, throwing her arm over the shorter girl’s other shoulder and pulling her into a side-hug. As she moved, she caught a shimmer of light off of the custom-engraved diamond solitaire she now proudly wore on her left hand. Let them see. Let them gawk. I don’t care. I belong to someone, forever.
The redhead looked up as they walked, gesturing to the classroom door on her left. “This is me.”
Kumiko nodded with a grin. “Yep! Have fun! See you next period!” With an excited wave, the brunette skipped down the hallway, dodging the crush of oncoming students. The girl looked like she could fly, and it gave Ranko a warm and happy sensation all over. I was able to do that for my friend. This feels awesome. It’s like what happens to my fans, but way more personal.
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Before she could turn the doorknob, she was rushed by Naoko Tsuda, editor of the Yusue High Gazette. Ranko knew her all too well - she had weaponized her classmate’s nose for gossip to help lay ruin to Saburo Kimura’s social status the night she deployed a six-minute tactical musical warhead called Not Yours, Don’t Touch.
“Ranko! Hold up! Our readers have to know! You announced on Bangers on the Beach that you’re engaged?! Again?! And you said you were with the boy for a long time - ever since before Sneak! Is it true? Were you two-timing on Eiji Kanda all last year?! We need answers, girl!” She thrust a portable tape recorder in the cheerleader’s face.
Ranko grinned confidently, shaking her head. Thanks, Akane, for warning me this was gonna happen, and helping me come up with a cover story. I owe you for this. For everything.
“Actually, Naoko, not at all. See, I mentioned in the interview that Sneak caused a lot of trouble in my relationship with Aki. Well, it got so bad, we actually split up for a few months, and that’s when I started to date Eiji. But right around the time I started to realize I wasn’t happy with Eiji anymore, Aki told me he was willing to try again. I couldn’t say yes fast enough, and now? I’m gonna get to be his wife!” She emitted an excited squeal and held out her left hand in case the teenage journalist wanted a picture of her ring, even though the word his still sat on her tongue like a stray piece of hair she couldn’t get rid of.
“I see.” Naoko turned off the tape recorder, obviously nonplussed with Ranko’s utterly unjuicy explanation. “Well, congrats, I guess.”
Ranko giggled. “Thanks, Naoko!”
With a satisfied smirk and a little wave, the redhead turned the doorknob, entering a smallish classroom that was not quite set up like her usual ones. Instead of rows of desks, there were twenty or so blue plastic chairs arranged in a pair of concentric semicircles, dotted with empty black metal music stands. Along the back wall were strewn a variety of instruments, ranging from tubas and trumpets to a xylophone, a number of precariously-stacked drums of various sizes, and a rack of oboes and bassoons. Most of them were in varying states of relative disrepair from their constant use by untrained hands. Ranko couldn’t identify most of the instruments other than the ones her friends in the Dapper Dragons played, and her eyes lingered on the reed instruments with some measure of mystified curiosity. So they have flutes, baby flutes, big black flutes, bigger, blacker flutes, super chonky black flutes… and a saxophone! Oh, hey, I knew that one! Shin has one!
As she marveled over the collection of instruments, Ranko became aware of a murmur behind her. She suspected she knew why, and blushed before she ever turned around, but when she did, she’d put on her brightest cheerleader smile. “Um, hi.”
Fifteen of her new classmates stared at her, going silent almost immediately as she spoke. Most of them looked like they might be freshmen or sophomores, as they were several years Ranko’s junior. Finally, one of the braver girls, a freshman near the front of the gaggle, stepped forward. “You’re… Ranko Tendo, aren’t you?”
The shade of Ranko’s face perfectly matched the deep red pinafore she wore. She was still having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that anybody was excited to meet her, but it was becoming more and more difficult to deny it. Just the day before, she’d stopped by a grocery store on the way to work to pick up some more jalapeños for Yui’s signature Dragonfire cocktail, and had to pose for photos three separate times before she could check out. Why do these people haul cameras around everywhere, anyway? That seems so inconvenient.
Still, she nodded proudly. “That’s me!” While she didn’t fathom why everyone else thought being Ranko Tendo was so special, to her, it was everything. There was no part of her life, down to her name, that she hadn’t had to meticulously and arduously craft for herself with her own two hands. Every single thing about herself – every interest, every mannerism, every friendship and family relationship – she had earned, and that, she was damned proud of.
A collective squeal rose from the aggregated class, the majority of which were younger girls. The one who had spoken first hopped on the balls of her feet with boundless excitement. “I heard you went here! I begged my mom to let me come to this school hoping I’d get to meet you! You’re so awesome!”
Ranko’s face warmed as she smiled and rolled her eyes. I need to just start carrying CDs in my school bag so I can have stuff to sign and hand out, I guess. This is getting ridiculous. “I don’t know about all that, but I’m glad you like my stuff. What’s your favorite of my songs?”
All but three or four of her new classmates shouted out in response. She heard a few call out Rise, a couple mentioned You’re My Song, one brought up Demon in Your Radio, and four of the kids -- including all three boys in the room – said Sneak. One shy-looking girl in the back even named Fly. Ranko sighed in relief that she hadn’t heard Not Yours, Don’t Touch or Freak; kids that age shouldn’t be able to relate to the messages of those songs, she thought.
“Are you gonna sing for us,” one of the boys in the back of the throng yelled.
Ranko blushed. “I mean, it’s a music class, so probably at some point.” She looked around at the expectant faces staring her way. “Oh, you meant now? I mean, I guess I can…”
She set down her black school satchel, blushing and playing with her red-beribboned ponytail as the class swarmed closer to listen. “What do you want to hear? I heard a bunch of my stuff mentioned, or would you rather hear something new I’m working on?”
The kids whooped in jubilation at the concept of a new song, and Ranko flushed further. “Okay, but it’s still super rough, so don’t judge, okay?” She cleared her throat, smiling and beginning to sing with nothing but the chattering of excited kids to back her.
“It’s Saturday, I wanna go to the mall. I can’t pay; ain’t got no money at all. So I’ll stay right here and wait for your call. I don’t even mind. I’m having a good time. My friends go hit all the trendiest stores. I say no, still gotta finish these chores. That’s cool though, because I get to be yours. Way too much to do, but I’m doing it for you…”
She looked up as the classroom door opened and a middle-aged man with receding black hair and thick glasses strode into the room. She hesitated before continuing, but he nodded with an encouraging smile, standing quietly behind his desk and setting down the books he was carrying.
“Some days aren’t so perfect. Some days aren’t much fun. But even if I come in last, it feels like I just won. A lot of people see my life and think I’d wanna run, but I wouldn’t trade a second here with you to anyone. Everything might suck, but I just say whatever! Ain’t nothin’ I won’t love to do if we do it together.”
She glanced down at her left hand again, beaming with joy. I might have to lie about some things, Akane, but I’m not pretending anymore. I am your girl for the rest of my life, no matter what my psycho egg donor wants to think about it.
Ranko flashed her eyes back to the assembled children and the now rapt instructor, finishing the chorus to her still-in-development song for which she’d only written the one verse so far.
“And it doesn’t matter if it’s hard, I hope it lasts forever, ‘cause my worst day with you is still the best day ever!”