Yukio felt a tinge of irritation when the council president followed him like an obedient dog all the way to the food plaza.

Urufu had come up with another hare-brained idea, but by now Yukio accepted how well they worked. The theme was try and play, and it hooked a couple of hundred parents and younger siblings. Anything that got people away from the planned events and stalls was a blessing.

He owed the kendo club big time, but they promised half an hour with Kuri and a camera would be payment enough. Nothing naughty the club president promised. Yukio wondered about that, and he still had to break the news to a Kuri he gifted to the club without telling her first. Urufu would have his head for it as well.

With a grin splitting his face Yukio saw grade school kids trying out kendo gear much too large for them. They looked happy, and Urufu only told him to solve the problem, so he did. He'd stand his ground if Urufu protested later. Hell, even if Kuri did.

But now there was the case with his current problem. Score a goal. The Watabe twins quickly convinced him having grade schoolers playing goalkeeper was a horrible idea. So instead they convinced both goalkeepers in the soccer club to spend two hours each defending against penalty kicks.

Problem being the food plaza was laid out on the soccer field as well, which was the reason Yukio walked here with the student council president trailing him.

It didn't take a genius to understand she suffered a severe case of being smitten. Even one as inept at the boy meets girl game as him understood.

At least it's me. It'll pass. Crap! If it was Urufu she'd stay in a state of love at first sight, like forever. A vivid image of Urufu with Kuri by his side and the council president desperately tugging at the back of his shirt passed Yukio's mind, and he couldn't help laughing at it.

He cackled with glee until his stomach hurt. People around him stared and whispered, and for once the president gave him some extra space.

On his radio he heard voices from time to time as islands of small crisis flared alive only to be extinguished by Urufu either promising help in a soothing voice or barking harsh orders in the language of an over-educated drill sergeant.

When Yukio returned to the food plaza kids were already lining up for penalty kicks. There was enough space by one goal not to interfere with those eating, not even after they accommodated one of Kuri's few suggestions over the radio – an international style picnic.

Yukio glanced at the grassy slope where they used to watch soccer training. It served as a delimiter between those above and those below with the occasional stubborn couple eating their food lying down in the middle.

Like watching sakura in the park, he thought. But it's autumn now.

From where six dozen blankets had arrived he could only guess at, but his suspicions went to Kuri. Any magic concerning cloth had to be her doing.

She's our president, but for this festival in name only. This is Urufu's show.

“You're silent.”

Ah, the other president. “Sorry, just thinking.” He gave her a smile. There was little reason to be rude, even if she was a pain. Now that's a novel thought. With Kyoko by my side I can suddenly act like normal around girls. Funny that. Now when I'm not even interested any longer.

“What happens now?” the president asked.

“You know, that's my line,” Yukio said and laughed. But he didn't care to keep up the pretence of who ran the show. “We're filling the gym right now. Principal Nakagawa negotiated with one of the TV crews and they're moving their bus inside the gates.”

That was today's lifesaving brilliance from Kuri. Well, given her background he shouldn't be too surprised. One of the buses was equipped with exterior led screens and loudspeakers, and the crew agreed to display live footage from the gymnasium throughout the day. At the moment they moved it into a position where it could be seen and heard without being in the way.

Jirou-sempai came over to him from the line of grills he oversaw. From the line of grills you were never supposed to oversee in the first place, Yukio corrected himself. The former president of the Sengoku club made the utmost to fill the position he was pressed into after madness descended on Himekaizen, and he did a very good job at it. Yukio took a mental note to make certain the second year was properly thanked later for shouldering the responsibility for the entire plaza.

“Have you had any rest?” Yukio asked.

“It's fine,” Jirou-sempai answered, which obviously wasn't true at all. Fine job or not, the guy was worn thin.

“President, how would you like to stand in for him?” Yukio asked the girl by his side.

She offered him a frown in return. “I don't know anything about this area.”

“But you do, you gave it a green light after all,” Yukio tried, but he harboured little hope she'd take the bait. “I'll help out for some time, but I need to run an errand later,” he said. “Please,” he added.

She looked at him and then at Jirou-sempai. Somehow she must have noticed how tired the second year was, because she nodded even though her shoulders slumped.

“Thanks!” Yukio didn't need to fake any gratitude. It was genuine, especially when he saw the relieved smile his club member gave their council president.

“An hour?” he asked?

“Make it two,” the president offered. She shot Yukio a questioning glance as if asking for praise.

“I'm in your debt,” he said. Damn, we need the council to regain their confidence before tomorrow. There's no way the club can handle all of it another day. He sighed. Especially not tomorrow.

“Urufu?” he called into his walkie talkie. He needed some confirmation.

“Urufu here.”

“Yukio here. What's the turnout today? Over.”

“Is the president there? Over.”

Yukio looked at her back and slowed his steps further. There was something Urufu didn't want her to know just yet. “I'm alone. Over,” he lied. As long as she didn't hear their conversation that statement was true enough.

“Three and a half today. About double the expected. Never more than two and a half at the same time though. My guess. Over.”

No wonder the school crawled with guests. They were already at their limits. Yukio had to ask the dreaded question. “Tomorrow? Over.”

His radio stayed silent just a little too long. “Hard to say. We could run the numbers together. Over and out.”

Yukio stared at his silent unit. Maybe an alternate universe existed where Urufu needed his help to run numbers, but this one most certainly wasn't it. Holy crap! That bad? We're going to run out of food to sell.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

With a sinking feeling he joined the president before she got too suspicious.

The smell of food filled his nostrils and he was suddenly ravenously hungry. With a pang of guilt he tugged at her sleeve. “Let's have lunch.”

Any other day before he met Kyoko the smile he received would have made him giddy with happiness. Any other day he wouldn't have called a third girl. Yukio smirked and punched up Noriko's number. He needed her brains.

***

“I don't care if you'll have problems later. Nakagawa promised he'd cover your back and now you'd better man up!”

“Why do you always trust the old goat?” Urufu was visibly sulking.

Noriko didn't care. She didn't even long for him any longer and that reduced him to a useful tool. The most important tool on two legs on the school grounds. “Shut up and make it work! If you want me in your fan club you'd damn better deserve it.”

The student council treasurer sat across the desks and watched them with stunned incomprehension.

“You certain you can't provide the funding?” Urufu asked him again. Another poor attempt at crawling out of the trap Noriko just sprung on him.

The treasurer finally found air enough to speak. “Three million yen? Are you crazy? Where the hell do you expect me to get that kind of money on short notice?”

“Fuck!” Urufu said.

“Language!” Noriko said and glared at him. She needed him to back down. “Look, you can dock my pay if it doesn't work out,” she suggested, and with that Urufu's secret was out in the open.

“Screw you!”

Thank all gods I mostly fell out of love with you earlier! That wasn't entirely true, but most of her feelings lay elsewhere now. “Thank you but no thank you. Nao maybe, but it's too early yet.” I'm unfair, but it can't be helped. You'd work me over the same way. “Make it happen!”

What she demanded of Urufu was beyond the pale, and she'd have what she needed or she'd see the festival crumble within a few hours. She locked eyes with him.

“Bah! No wonder I pay you two the most,” he said and admitted defeat.

“Pay?” the council treasurer said from his chair.

“Shut up!” both Noriko and Urufu said in unison.

“Fine! Get me someone with a motorcycle and an extra helmet. I'll need coordinates as well.”

Noriko sank back in her seat. She'd apologise later. “I love you, you know. Not the way I love Nao, but still. I'll get your ride.” She would. One of the thugs in 9:1 rode one.

She wasn't supposed to know, but the hulking giant in 9:1 adored everything Wakayama from the moment they stood their ground against the bullying at Red Rose Hell. Since last night Urufu was included in his hero worship, because Noriko told him why Urufu was expelled.

“What's going on?” the treasurer asked and broke Noriko's memories.

She threw him a dark look. “If the student council can't fund the cultural festival Hamarugen-sama will do so in your stead.” Urufu deserved that much at least. She forced him to put his company on the line based on pure speculation. In return she could at least refer to him with the utmost respect.

She dug up her smart phone and dialled a number. The call took less than twenty seconds. On pure speculation, but you knew you could fund it if things went south, didn't you? Four cars with students unable to pay for the supplies they were ordered to buy had already hit the road. Urufu has some serious catching up to do, and Noriko hoped the thug knew his bike.

“Big words coming from you. Where the hell did you arrive at three million yen?” It seemed the treasurer didn't intend to give up.

“You really don't know?” You can't be that clueless, can you?

“Know what?”

He could, and when she thought about it maybe clueless was too harsh. “Our friend, Ageruman-san,” she chose the polite reference, because he probably wouldn't know who Kuri was, “is a part time model.”

“And?”

Noriko turned her computer to him so he could watch the videos. Kuri's face was plastered to every major billboard around Tokyo since the day before.

Noriko hardly listened to Urufu leaving the room. Instead she slammed both hands to her desk. “Now listen closely. Best case, absolutely best case, we estimate five thousand guests here tomorrow.”

The treasurer stared back at her with his face pale and lifeless. The numbers simply didn't agree with him. She could as well kill any remaining hopes of understanding he had.

“Worst case we'll have upwards to twenty thousand people trying to get in. There's no way in hell we can handle that.”

“Where did you get those numbers,” he asked and repeated his prior question in a new way.

She couldn't tell him. Those weren't merely estimates from their friend Kuri; those numbers were from The Billion Dollar Empress. Noriko had absolutely no reason to doubt over thirty years' worth of professional experience from the fashion industry, but she couldn't tell him. Sixteen year old girls didn't have that kind of experience.

“It's a wild guess,” Noriko lied and tried to make it sound like she admitted that she had no clue. Twelve to fifteen thousand, unless something unexpected happens, Kuri had said. Eight thousand and not a soul more, Urufu had responded when asked about how many guests the school could handle with the help of a shoehorn.

We're so screwed! Noriko growled and when the treasurer winced she shook her hands. She wasn't angry with him. She had forced Urufu to empty his accounts, but that only covered supplies for five thousand guests.

I'll bleed Kuri dry as well and it still won't be enough. She already had. One million yen, Kuri's entire fortune, transferred to Urufu half an hour earlier. He didn't know yet. He also didn't know she herself still held lingering feelings for him despite going out with Nao. Enough to join him in the madness.

“Excuse me, I need to make a call.” Noriko rose and left the room.

In the corridor outside she dialled another contact and waited for the answer.

Bro's going to kill me for this.

“Dad, I need access to my university funds.”