Haruka stalks through the school in sharp, hurried strides, for once in her life not turning her head to acknowledge any passing girls' greetings. Her fists clench and unclench at her sides to an erratic, agitated rhythm, and the blood-red heat building in her stomach only rises higher and higher with every step she takes.

What the hell was that? What the hell was that?

She looks through the hallways. She looks on the roof. She looks behind the school, by the parking lot, and the tension straining her muscles just about threatens to snap the fountain comes into view and--

"... Sempai."

Teeth ground together, Haruka exhales slow and harsh through her nose. Her back is rigid as a lamppost; the lightness that flickers through her chest at the sight of Michiru stands at ugly odds with her locked-stiff bones, and the barely-contained rage churning within.

She has no idea just how much it's showing on her face.