The girl in question - Hiroko Nakamura, he thinks she said - looks kind of funny in the oversized tracksuit he lent her after the…bathroom incident. Rocky himself, lounging on one of the fake-wooden, plastic benches by the vending machines, ditched his own school button-up, too, leaving him in a red T-shirt that the ineffective dress code would no doubt be offended by - uniform jacket still tied around his waist, of course.

  “So, what actually happened in there?” he prompts. Shiori's been standing beside the girl for a few minutes now, doing…something, he can't really tell - she keeps flitting back and forth around her, like she's looking for something that he just plain can't see. “You came out screaming bloody murder,” Rocky continues, though he's not sure why he's trying to distract from whatever Shiori's doing by making conversation, “ain’t no way you just tripped or something, did you?”

  “It was a ghost,” Hiroko insists, “I keep telling you, I saw the bathroom ghost. Y'know, they've been- everyone's been talking about it, you have to know.”

  “Nobody really talks to me,” Rokuro ripostes, “you're gonna have to fill me in.”

  Hiroko sighs, planting her elbows on her lap, and her chin into her hands. “You have to know the Aka Manto, right? It's a classic story, like- didn't you have that kind of thing in elementary?”

  “...Are you gonna tell me that an elementary school rumour cornered you in the bathroom and soaked you in piss?”

  "It's true!" Hiroko slams her hands down on the bench, making Shiori jump just behind her. “Fourth stall and everything! I went in, someone asked the question, and I-”

  “The “red cloak or blue cloak” question?” Rocky interrupts. Hiroko nods. “Why the fuck aren't you dead, then?”

  Suddenly sheepish, Hiroko's hand reaches up to scratch at the back of her neck, playing with hair still wet from her much-needed shower. “Well, um, I thought it was a joke, so… You- you know the, like…joke answer? Where- where you say “yellow,” and the ghost like- it, um-”

  “It drenches you in piss,” he finishes for her, punctuated with a strangled sigh.

  It's at this point that Shiori catches his attention again, waving her arm to draw his eyes aside. She looks serious, somehow; Rocky was about to make fun of Piss Girl over here for her dumbass story, but the stare Shiori's giving him makes him pause. That doesn't completely erase his skepticism, but-

  “What happened to Manako- I mean, the girl who got strangled? It lines up, too,” Hiroko keeps trying, vigorously nodding her head, “and- and, it's not the first time this has happened in the school, either! There's this super old rumour, there was this creepy teacher, and when he died-…”

  Rocky and Shiori lock eyes.

  “How'd they get rid of it the first time?” Once again, Rocky interrupts, but once again, he gets away with it - Hiroko's eyes sparkle like he just asked the golden question, and she leans forward on the bench to answer it.

  “Back in first year, I heard the whole story from my friend's ma - you'll know her, she's in your class - and, like, after a whole bunch of girls went missing, when she was going here, they looked up in a book what to do about it.”

  “And then?”

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  “And then they did a whole ritual!” Suddenly, it's starting to sound a lot like nonsense again. Hiroko throws her hands in the air, making exaggerated motions as if they don't just make the whole story even more confusing. “Like- like, some Buddhist stuff!”

  “What, did they get a monk in?”

  “Maybe? I dunno,” she shrugs just as exaggeratedly, making Rocky wonder just how sure this girl actually is about all this, “the way Mrs. Munezawa told it, they just read it in a book and wapow, victory!”

  “Munezawa?” That catches Shiori's interest, and the speed with which she's suddenly by Rocky's side and piping up with that spooky, hollow voice of hers almost makes him jump. Her hand against his skin is ice-cold, as she leans in to whisper into his ear - not that anyone's going to hear, but... “Tanaka, that name-...”

  He tries to be subtle about it when he nods back to her. Leaning back on the bench, Rocky throws one leg over the other, shuffling over a little to discretely make room for the girl beside him - even if she's intangible. “You said this girl's in my class, yeah?” he prods, while Shiori gets comfy, “izzat Erimi Munezawa?”

  “Oh! Yeah, I knew you'd know her,” Hiroko beams, nodding her head with enthusiasm, “I think I remember her talking about a transfer student, come to think of it… That's you, right?”

  “Nothing good, I'll bet.”

  “She, uh, said you were an asshole, yeah. Something about the bus crash?”

  Exhaling, he shakes his head to disguise the apologetic look he sends Shiori - only to find she's sending one right back. “Erimi’s…like that. Sorry,” she whispers. There's nothing he can do, without making it obvious he's talking to a ghost, to stop her from squeezing his hand in what she probably thinks is meant to be relaxing. She's giving him some kind of excuse, he thinks, but he kind of stopped listening. Before he can smack himself for being such a dumb fucking virgin, though, Hiroko's leaning forward on the bench opposite, squinting at him.

  “...You okay, Tanaka?” She tilts her head to one side. “You went all red. If you don't wanna talk about it, it's cool. I bet it's a misunderstanding, yeah?”

  “Uh- uh, yeah… Yeah. Put my foot in my mouth, for real. Didn't know, said somethin' dumb, apparently it's done the fuckin' rounds since.”

  “Heh, yeah, thought so.” Hiroko laughs it off, so Rocky does too, but Shiori's still got a grip on his hand, and the way she's tugging on his arm now is less comforting and more a reminder of the task at hand. “The way she described you, no way you'd give some random girl your tracksuit.” What the fuck did she say? - Shiori's hand-squeezing gets a little bit more urgent, and he's guessing she can see a distraction waiting to happen on his face.

  Cutting it short before he can ask too many more questions, “well, if you're okay, I better get goin',” Rocky stretches his arms as he gets up, cracking his neck.

  “Where to?”

  “Gotta tell Munezawa to stop spreadin' weird rumours.” It's a good enough excuse, right? - Hiroko seems to buy it, anyway. “Don't get covered in piss again, y'hear?”

  Sinking down in that comfy, leather armchair, Homura ponders what to do. He's been watching the swinging doors since they left - that prick didn't even bother to close it… - tapping a finger against his knee and clicking his tongue as punctuation to every bad solution he comes up with. A big chance like that, and he really had to blow it, huh? If he did attack her, he reasons, he deserved everything that was said, but justification doesn't get the interview back, does it? With a groan of frustration, Homura presses his hands to his eyes and slides just a little further between the cushions. What he wouldn't give to have that delinquent turn around and walk back in…

  “Oi, Newspaper Club?”

  Jumping up with a start, Homura locks eyes with the wild-haired gyaru of 3-E herself: Erimi Munezawa lets the double-doors slam hard enough into the walls that he's genuinely afraid they're going to shatter, storms up to the only person she sees in the room, and slams one black, leather, definitely-not-school-regulation boot onto the coffee table. He cringes, undisguised.

  With neon-pink leg-warmers bright enough to give someone a headache, there's a fire in her green eyes that feels just as vivid. “Saw that creep coming out of here,” she flatly states, as if that explains anything, “explanations. Now.”

  Finding himself staring up at her glaring face, Homura feels the gears start to whir in the back of his mind.

  “...Sure, if you tell me what I want to know, too. You're right in the centre of this whole thing, aren't you?”