“LET’S GO, MYSTICS!”
Ranko roared excitedly, clapping her hands. She would not be a Minato University cheerleader for a few more months, but she was doing her best anyway - at least, considering she couldn’t even stand up to cheer with the rest of the capacity crowd in the cavernous college gymnasium. Thus, she found herself unable to see anything but the butt of the blonde coed in the seat in front of her every time the Minato Mystics volleyball team scored another point.
I mean, at least it’s a nice butt, but, dammit, sit down, lady! I’m trying to watch my wife win a championship here! Ranko groaned, cursing the metal crutches leaned against the steel railing of the bleachers to her left under her breath for what must have been the thousandth time. It had been a month since her injury, but between her mobility challenges, the pain, and her agonizing absence from cheerleading, her job at the Phoenix, and the stage all, it had felt like a year. She felt like she was failing everyone in her life – Akane first and foremost. Four more days, and then I’m throwing those fucking things in the dumpster, I swear.
She couldn’t even dress the way she wanted to. Normally, she’d have worn her purple Minato University tee shirt, which Akane had bought her in celebration of Ranko’s acceptance letter, paired with her black pleated skirt, but doing so would have shown off the hideous hinged contraption that was all but bolted to her left leg, immobilizing it between metal bars that were locked in place with four screws. She felt like a robot in pigtails, and moved like it, to boot. She’d worn her Minato tee shirt at least, pairing it with a long white skirt. She didn’t really like it; it was super itchy on her Cat’s Tongue-addled skin, but she’d had to borrow it from Akane. Both of her long skirts with pockets were in the dirty clothes hamper, and between Ranko’s leg and Akane’s frantic study schedule, the girls were behind on the laundry, and almost everything else, too. She’d been wearing her silver cheerleading sneakers every time she’d gone out since her injury; somehow, she didn’t think she needed the added difficulty level of using crutches in heels. That part, she didn’t mind so much - while her “show shoes,” as she often called them, were undeniably cuter, they never got any easier or more comfortable to wear.
The redhead glanced nervously up at the scoreboard. Akane’s Mystics were up by two scores, but the Asakusa Bears were staying with them point-for-point. Come on! Finish them off, she willed as Asami Yanda slid on her knees on the rubber court to dig under a spike from the defending champions.
The white ball ricocheted off of the Asakusa striker’s forearms and careened quickly back over the net. Nanami leapt toward the net, blocking the ball with her arms high above the net and rocketing it downward at the Bears’ libero. She was unable to defend in time, and the ball crashed hard into her head, sending her sprawling to the rubber court. The ball rolled across the floor for a Minato point. As the blonde’s teammates helped her up, the logo for the sporting goods company that had manufactured the volleyball was clearly legible, albeit backward, in the red imprint on her forehead.
Ranko's side of the bench erupted in cheers. Both Ranko and her companion, seated immediately to her right, held up their hands, palms facing each other at shoulder level and width, and twisted their wrists rapidly as if the hands were waving to each other. Ranko still screamed in celebration, but that was of little consequence to Nanami’s longtime girlfriend Mitsuru Shishido. So, in order to be inclusive to her friend, Ranko used her hands to form the Japanese Sign Language sign for applause.
Come on, Akane. One more point. Ranko bounced in her seat, ignoring the throbbing in her knee.
One more point, and you’re a champion.
Nanami threw the ball upward, cocking her hand back to serve, and Ranko felt Mitsuru squeeze her hand in her lap in nervous anticipation.
----------------------------------------
“Hey, Ranko, c’mere! I want you to come meet the girls!”
Ranko sighed, glaring down at her the bulge of metal bars and bolts stabilizing her knee under the long white peasant skirt she had borrowed from Akane. “Shi’ri, not now. I don't want their first impression of me to be when I'm all gimpy.”
Shiori approached Ranko on the bleachers. She wore a purple crop top with three-centimeter wide shoulder straps and a purple pleated miniskirt that gave way to silver panels when the brunette’s legs moved. The word Mystics was emblazoned across her chest, both in English cursive and kanji, in large silver lettering that sparkled with glitter. Silvery stars, scintillating with Shiori’s every move, surrounded the lettering in an arc and trailed down to her bare midriff down the left side of her top. The shiny stars picked up again at the waistband of her skirt, continuing down to the hem along her left hip. On the left side of Shiori’s pale, bare belly, four small stars of varying sizes had been tattooed in black, connecting the break in the two lines of stars across her articles of clothing. A large, sparkly silver bow adorned Shiori's high auburn ponytail, and her cheeks were smeared with streaks of purple and silver glitter paint.
Ranko blushed furiously at the sight of her former captain’s uniform up close. I’m actually excited to get my new cheerleading uniform. Poor Ranma is rolling in his grave - or he would be, if he had one. I guess, technically, he’s buried inside me. She smirked with a quiet little chuckle that none of the other volleyball fans sitting around her heard. So, he’s doing quadruple twists in his grave. Or, he will be when I get out of this fucking brace, anyway. When I get my own set of those in a few months, I won't be able to walk for a whole different reason. Akane will make sure of it. I hope the tattoos aren't mandatory, though, ‘cause with the Cat’s Tongue… no thank you.
“Oh, c’mon, Ran-chan. They're athletes. They know injuries happen. It's nothing to be ashamed of. And you get so loud in here when Akane’s playing, they kind of already consider you an honorary member of the squad, anyway.” Shiori leaned down to offer Ranko a hand to her feet, stabilizing her friend until she could get her crutches situated under her armpits.
With Shiori going before her to help push a path through the crowd, Ranko carefully plodded down the steps of the plasticized bleachers to the bottom. Shiori moved an aluminum barrier out of the way for her as she scooted sideways past it onto the volleyball court on her crutches.
“Hey, girls,” Shiori said as the pair approached. “I want you to formally meet Ranko Tendo.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Fourteen other cheerleaders huddled around Ranko, firing questions too quickly to be independently understood, let alone answered. Ranko glanced up at her friend, panic in her eyes, until Shiori calmed them down with a downward gesture with both of her outstretched palms. “One at a time, girls! Don’t scare her off!”
“Hey, Ranko,” a tall, svelte cheerleader with long, wavy raven-black hair said, and the rest of the squad silenced to allow her to speak. She must be the captain, Ranko thought to herself with a smile. Other than Akane, that's probably the prettiest woman I've ever seen in my life.
“Hi,” Ranko stammered, mentally admonishing herself for even noticing another girl was pretty. “Your squad is awesome. I can't wait to officially be a Pixie in a few months and fly with you all.” She tapped her leg gently with her crutch. “After I can walk, anyway.”
The young woman grinned brightly. “She even knows the name of the squad. Nice! You've been doing your homework! Name’s Yasuko Machiro. You won't be flying with me, sadly. As cool as it would've been to perform with a real pop star, I gotta blow this joint. I'm starting a master’s program in aerospace engineering out in Nagano next term.”
“Right on,” Ranko enthused with a smile and a nod. A freakin’ literal rocket scientist. How cool is that? I can't believe I used to think all cheerleaders were dumb. Just one of a million things I had wrong about girls before I learned how to be one.
The redhead let go of the handles of her crutches, gripping them with her armpits and holding all of her weight on her right foot. Ranko lifted her hands up to chin level and shoulder width, wiggling her fingers as she tilted her arms slightly outward as if she was spreading invisible glitter in front of her. When her arms reached about fifteen degrees of tilt from vertical, she extended her index, middle and ring fingers skyward, cocking her head with a wink and a cute smile.
“I might have been practicing a little.” Ranko giggled, smiling up at Shiori in gratitude for having taught her the gesture. Much like the clawing gesture her friend had invented had become a calling card for the Yusue cheerleading squad - having inspired the song Ranko had recorded for their second Invitational championship - the “Pixie dust” had become an almost secret club handshake for the Minato squad. “As much as I can from the couch, anyhow. I’m just so excited!”
An orange-haired girl to Ranko’s right grinned, nodding emphatically. Her pale face was liberally dotted with bright orange freckles. “I like this one. You’re gonna fit in great with us, Ranko. My name’s Minori. It’s great to meet you!”
“You too,” Ranko said, blushing a bit as she smiled.
To Minori’s left, a lanky young woman with long, wavy platinum blonde hair smirked down at Ranko. She was very tall, and there was something in the confident, almost sassy way she carried herself that reminded Ranko of Yui. At least, before Yui fell apart, Ranko mused sadly.
“Suzume Nomura. It’s good to meet ya, Ranko. Congrats on winning the Invitational!” She smirked. “Two years in a row, even if you did beat out my Archers for the first one.”
Ranko shrugged, giggling. “Thanks! I’d say I was sorry, but I’m not really sure I’d mean it.”
Suzume laughed. “Well, we’re all Pixies now, so I suppose I can forgive ya.”
“You’d better,” said a short brunette as she squeezed Suzume around the waist. She was much shorter than Suzume - indeed, most of the squad was - and the right side of her brown pixie cut was decorated with a row of six tiny barrette clips decorated with pink and purple bows. “Shizuka Araya. Good to finally meet’cha, Ranko.”
Ranko blinked. “Araya? You’re not…?”
Shizuka nodded, grinning broadly. “Yeah, Etsuko’s my little sister. So, I’ve heard all about you.”
“Welp, I’m in trouble,” Ranko said, giggling with her future squadmates.
The brunette waved her left hand, the diamond solitaire of her engagement ring sparkling under the gymnasium lights. “Nah, it’s all good stuff!”
“Then Etsie’s a big ol’ liar,” Ranko said, blushing with a bright smile.
“Nah, she knows what she’s talking about,” said another, taller brunette, this one far more familiar to Ranko. There was a cordial smile on her lips and a softness in her green eyes.
“Hey, Kotone,” Ranko said mutedly with a blush and a wave. The two hadn’t always been the best of friends; when they’d both been on the Yusue squad, Kotone had chafed hard under Ranko’s leadership style before Shiori - and a squad-wide walkout Kotone had led - convinced her to lighten up. But, in the weeks after the Lions had won their first All-Tokyo Cheerleading Invitational, before Kotone graduated, the girls had discovered that shared victory goes a long way toward soothing old wounds.
“If you ladies don’t mind, I believe you have something that belongs to me.”
Ranko’s blue eyes brightened at the sound of the familiar voice, and the cheerleaders parted to make way for Akane as she emerged from the Mystics’ locker room in a pair of blue jeans and a pastel green corset shirt. “Hey, champ!”
Akane hugged Ranko tight around the waist, picking her up off the ground and spinning her in the air as her crutches clattered to the gymnasium floor. “We did it!”
The redhead giggled brightly into her wife’s beaming face. Every shred of her soul wanted to reach down and pull Akane into a kiss, but there were still too many people filtering out of the arena. “Yeah you did! I’m so freakin’ proud of you, Akane! I mean, it would’a been great if you could have waited until I got to formally be a Minato cheerleader for you, but…”
Grinning, Akane set her down gently, supporting her weight in her arms until Shiori returned Ranko’s crutches to her. “Well, I’ll tell you what. We’ll just have to win again next year, just for you. Do we have a deal, my little pixie princess?” She reached out, flicking the little silver heart dangling from Ranko’s black lace choker with her index finger.
Ranko blushed, nodding emphatically. The look on her face made Akane squirm a little, the same dreamy, madly-in-love facial expression that her wife had worn nearly all day at their wedding - an early-morning encounter with her biological father notwithstanding. “Deal! I’m gonna hold you to that, you know.”
Suzume smirked, leaning on Akane’s shoulder from behind with her elbow, her hair cascading over the front of Akane’s shirt. “We all will, captain.”