“It’s alright, Kazushi! You got this!” Ranko whooped loudly, shaking her pom-poms furiously in encouragement. He doesn’t got this. That guy’s wiping the floor with him.
It was so strange for Ranko to be on the sidelines cheering at a martial arts competition of all things, but her squad had decided they wanted to make as many of the Yusue High’s athletic events as possible, so there she stood. When she’d first joined Yusue last year, she’d briefly considered trying out for the judo team herself, but quickly discovered that would be a non-starter. With the Cat’s Tongue, she thought she might be able to manage it, since per the competition rules, the most you could take was two hits in a fight before the match ended. Unfortunately, the boys only club policy had ended the idea before it really began.
Ranko was okay with it now; much though the girl she was a year ago had turned green at the very thought of it, she couldn’t be happier with her decision to join the Yusue cheerleaders in retrospect. She had made some incredible friends doing it, and it was fantastic exercise and dancing practice. Beyond that, it had opened a door for her that had been sealed forever and buried under concrete in her mind – six weeks after receiving it, her acceptance letter to Minato University still hung on the refrigerator door in her apartment like it was an overproud child’s crayon drawing. Plus, being the designated source of excitement really was a lot of fun, once she’d gotten over her resistance on the basis of it being too girly and allowed herself to give it a chance.
Ranko blushed a little at the thought of it; while she was sure there were still some feminine bridges too far for her, she had long ago lost count of how many she’d crossed since discovering the Phoenix two years ago. She couldn’t help stealing a glance down at her wedding ring, remembering not just the act of being a bride - and how incredibly womanly Akane had made her feel throughout the day and well into the night - but the as-yet-unexplained shockwave that had changed her life earlier that morning. Just a week and a half ago, Ranko had accidentally spilled some hot water on herself while making tea for Akane, and while it hurt like hell for a day and a half, her feminine form held. Dr. Tofu had come up with no leads, and while she still wanted answers, she was content to accept it as another blessing that she did not think she deserved. She almost wished she could add a verse to Once Upon a Rhyme about it, in acknowledgement of yet another miracle that had changed her life for the better, but something told her that appending her deepest secret to August 1991’s number-one single wasn’t the best way to keep it quiet. Maybe she’d write an extra verse and keep it to herself, as she had done for so many others of her songs, she thought.
She was snapped out of her daydream by a loud smack as Kazushi Sawaya took another kick to the face, crumpling to the mat.
“Keep your hands up, Sawaya,” the Yusue instructor yelled desperately.
Ranko waved her pom-poms in support, holding them in front of her mouth to hide her cringe. Remember why you’re here, Ranko. You’re here to encourage, not to… but damn it, why isn’t anybody telling him the guy is leaving his left side wide open and telegraphing his kicks with his eyes?! Come on, man! You gotta see it!
Her advice would have served no use, however, because not ten seconds after the Yusue combatant had retaken his stance, a punch to his stomach had ended his match in defeat. “It’s okay, Kazushi! You’ll get him next time,” Etsuko called out as the dejected sophomore slinked back to the Yusue bench with his head hanging low.
Sawaya couldn’t have beat that dude if you’d spotted him two points and a baseball bat, Ranko thought with a bemused smirk, but she swung her pom-poms wordlessly nonetheless. Still, she needed to focus. All of the choreography for their scheduled performances depended on fourteen cheerleaders, and she was a rambunctious freshman short. Kayo had called a few hours before the event and said she wasn’t able to make it, and so some last-minute adjustments were in order.
“Hey there, gorgeous,” Ranko heard over her shoulder as she retook her seat in one of the padded red folding chairs reserved for her squad at courtside. She bristled, expecting to have to punch somebody for calling her that while not being her wife, but as she turned and recognized the speaker, her expression softened. “Hey, Hideo.”
Indeed, the stout junior had not been speaking to Ranko at all, but to the cheerleader seated immediately to Ranko’s right. He leaned down, wrapping his arms around Kumiko’s neck and kissing her on the cheek with a gentle squeeze. “You’re looking great out there, babe.”
Giggling, Kumiko turned in her chair and returned his hug. The heat radiating from her blush could have powered Tokyo for an hour. “You’d say that no matter what I did, silly.”
“Because it’s true no matter what you do,” the suave young man said with a grin. He looked up at the burly middle-aged man approaching him in the neon yellow security vest. “They’re coming to run me off, but I’ll see you after the match? How’s ice cream sound?”
“That depends,” Kumiko said with a coy smirk.
The boy chuckled, backing away from her toward the bleachers to appease the security guard as he answered. “Okay, okay, I’m buying!”
“Then it’s a date!” Kumiko giggled, waving to him as he turned to retake his seat in the fifth row of the rubberized bleachers.
Ranko leaned over to her friend, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she nudged Kumiko’s bare shoulder with her fist. “Safe to assume we won’t be seeing you in the locker room to change?”
With another deep blush, Kumiko looked down and fidgeted with her silver hair. “Hey, it’s not my fault! He… likes showing off the fact that he’s dating a cheerleader.”
The redheaded cheer captain nodded. She was still getting used to Kumiko’s new hair color, but she was glad to see her friend taking pride in herself and displaying confidence. That was exactly why Ranko had recruited her to the squad in the first place, and even if they came in dead last at the upcoming Invitational in January, she wouldn’t regret the decision. “Well, any guy should be proud to have you, cheerleader or not. You’re pretty awesome, ya know.” The corner of her mouth curled deviously. “And you’re sure the cheerleader thing is just what he wants to see at the ice cream parlor, and not, I don’t know, in his bedroom?”
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“Ranko! We’re not… doing that… yet!” Kumiko’s blush betrayed that she wasn’t entirely closed off to the idea, however. “I’ve never done that with anybody before.”
Ranko bit her lip with a little bit of a purr. “Oh, honey, are you in for a treat.”
The younger girl blushed, leaning in toward Ranko so she could whisper. “Oh, I get it. Sometimes I swear you’re trying to turn me gay with how much you talk about how good it is with Akane.”
Shaking her head, Ranko tittered brightly. “No, silly. Boys can do the job just fine, if that’s what you’re into.” She blushed. “Not that they can do the job with me, but… you get the idea.”
Kumiko nodded. “Have you ever… been… with a boy like that? Eiji, maybe?”
“Ew! No way!” Ranko made an exaggeratedly disgusted face, bulging out one of her eyes and sticking out her tongue. “Sorry, girlfriend. You want advice on that, you gotta talk to Tanda or somebody.”
Kumiko looked back into the bleachers, waving to Hideo again. “Gods, I’m so excited, Ranko! I never thought I’d get to go on dates and stuff. Nobody showed that much interest in me before, but because you invited me to come cheer, now I’m cool.”
Ranko shook her head as she stood for the next performance. “You were always cool, Kumi. If anything, this just gave you the confidence to believe it for yourself.” Ranko started to walk toward the space between the mats where they danced, but noticed Kumiko’s eyes still following the boy in the bleachers. “Hey, why don’t you get out of here and go get started on your ice cream date? With Kayo out, it’ll balance the sides of the formation at six each.”
The silver-haired girl’s eyes brightened. “You mean it, Ran-chan?”
The captain smirked, waving her off with a nod. “Shoo. Have fun. Be safe.”
Kumiko squealed and made for the bleachers as Ranko led the rest of her squad out to dance.
----------------------------------------
“And that’s the match! Tatsuya Mikino has just secured his fourteenth win in a row! Can he carry his streak through the Honshu Mixed-Style Martial Arts Tournament this January, folks? Who knows, but tonight, he’s our judo match champion! Congratulations to everyone at Shibuya High! These Stars really came to fight tonight, declawing the Lions nine matches to three!”
Ranko gathered her pom-poms, stuffing them down into the black duffel bag behind her chair. While most of the girls carried the silver Yusue High bags the school had given them as part of their travel budget for the All-Tokyo Cheerleading Invitational last year, it was hard to mix up bags with the only one to have their captain’s band logo screen-printed along its side.
“Hey, Shika? You mind hanging back a sec,” Ranko asked as her squadmates headed back toward the locker room.
“Yes, captain?!” Shika hustled to Ranko’s side as if awaiting the orders of a drill sergeant.
Ranko shook her head with an exasperated grin. “Shika, how many times do I have to tell you? Call me Ranko.” It really was cute, she had to admit, the way Shika idolized her as both a cheerleader and a musician, but man, it got annoying sometimes. It was like packing her most rabid Firebirds with her every time she went to an event.
“Sure, captain. What did you need?”
Ranko rolled her eyes. “Ranko. Ran-ko. Say it.”
Shika blushed softly. “Okay… Ranko.” She looked down at her shoes, fidgeting with her silver hair. Ranko idly wondered if she was where Kumiko had gotten the inspiration for her new hair color.
“Hey, you and Kayo are pretty good friends, right?” Ranko shouldered her bag as she led the sophomore away from the crowd.
The younger girl nodded. “I think so. Why, what’s up?”
Ranko sighed. “I’m kinda worried about her. Like, she hasn’t even given me a headache talking in, like, three weeks. Her energy level’s way off, and now she’s missing performances. Something’s not right. I was hoping maybe you knew what was up. Is everything okay with her mom and dad, stuff like that?”
Shika shrugged. “She hasn’t told me about anything.”
The captain nodded. “Do me a favor? Keep an eye on her, and let me know if there’s anything I can do to help her. She won’t talk to me about whatever’s going on, but it’s getting pretty hard to ignore.”
The silver-haired girl nodded. “Yes, captain! Is there anything else?”
Ranko scoffed, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “Girl, you’re a lost cause. Go on, get outta here. I got something I gotta do before I go change.”
Adjusting the weight of her bag on her shoulder, Ranko walked slowly toward the Shibuya bench, where the home team was still celebrating their trouncing of Ranko’s Lions. She approached the match’s victor, affecting an almost timid timbre in her voice. “Um, Tatsuya? Could I… talk to you a minute?”
The champion turned to face her, his eyes taking on an all-too-familiar, all-too-stomach-turning glint at the sight of the cheerleader waiting to speak to him. “Honey, you can talk to me about anything you want.”
Ranko sighed. Questions now, barf later. “I wanted to ask you about this tournament you’re in. The Mixed-Style event?”
Tatsuya smirked, lifting one of his legs and setting his foot on one of the folding chairs alongside the arena floor. “No offense, but I don’t think a 90-kilo little thing like you has much of a shot, princess. I can always use more girls cheering for me, though.”
Ranko growled under her breath. Listen here, you jerk! Nobody is allowed to call me princess! She blushed involuntarily, trying to not let him see it lest it encourage his behavior. Nobody except Akane, anyway. I’m only a princess for her. Besides, I’d wipe the floor with you and your goofy-ass fighting stance. For now, best play along, though.
“Oh, it’s not for me! I’m asking for my boyfriend. Do they let any style compete? How does it work?”
“Boyfriend, huh? We’ll have to work on that, you and me. But as for the tournament? Any dojo can enter as long as it’s on the list of approved styles. Boys, girls, whatever. It’s only separated by age groups. It’s not like it’s a school thing or whatever. We’re entering as a school club, but there’s lots of regular dojos competing too. In fact…” He reached down into his blue gym bag, retrieving a tattered, folded flier. “Here’s all the details. I hope you get your boyfriend to enter. After I beat his ass, maybe you’ll be in the mood for an upgrade.”
Oh, dude, you’re lucky I’m a lot chiller than I used to be. I’d hate to see you embarrassed by a cheerleader in front of all your friends. And, if my wife were here right now to hear you talk to me like that, I’m not sure you’d ever walk again.
Ranko put on an exaggerated show giggle, slipping the paper into her bag. “Thanks, Tatsuya! Maybe I’ll see you there!”
“Oh, I certainly hope so,” he replied with a wolfish sneer.