“What the shit is this?” Osoro grumbles with a sneer, reaching into her shoe cubby to pull out a small, feeble, pink note. This is without a doubt a joke. A joke someone played to… what? Embarrass her? Osoro doesn’t get embarrassed. She gets fucking pissed. And right now, she’s angry.

She opens the tiny note, her glare only intensifying after every letter she read. Meet her at the cherry blossom tree? After school? Is this person serious? Well they will for sure be walking away with a broken nose and shiner, maybe even a shattered rib if she’s feeling exceptionally offended.

Osoro doesn’t get love letters or requests to meet at the cherry blossom tree. That’s just not something that happens to her. And hell—she prefers it that way. In fact she likes it. Not having to deal with this bullshit is just another perk with how she decides to carry herself and with how she chooses to act. She loves being a delinquent—and she always will.

This shit head needs to get with the program.

Osoro crumbles up the note finally, stuffing it into her skirt’s pocket. Fine… she’ll meet this person. Beat the crap out of them… probably won’t listen to their intolerable confession…

Umeji didn’t ask questions when Osoro told him that he was in charge of training the rest of the delinquents tonight. He did it for eight weeks while she was suspended… so he’s use to it.

Time to meet that slimy… probably ugly… fucker. She’ll throw that note at them, demand answers, then bash their head against that very tree. Serves them right…

Osoro makes her way up that hill, towards that fluttering cherry blossom tree. Shes late, by a few minutes. Tried to make herself seem… uninterested. Especially if it turns out one of those fake ass tan girls set the whole thing up…

The delinquent leader stops under the tree, tilting her head up to glare at the falling pink petals. This is bull shit… really. Her fist tightens as every second passes…