<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/4/4a/Iris_Heart_-_Hyperdimension_Neptunia_-_2x3_portrait_-_mischeivous.png)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Natsuki Akuzawa<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Music club room<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Day 2, lunch<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>School uniform<br/><strong>With:</strong>Aoi, (Kazuma, Yoshimune, Misato)<br/><br/>At first, Natsuki’s only concern was the fact that she was lying prone on the floor, sore and humiliated. She was angry, hurt, and embarrassed, and it was only the second day of school. This was going to be a lousy year.<br/><br/>But then she was being helped up by what appeared to be lead singer of the band she’d just crash-dived in on. Now she had a whole new concern: not looking like an idiot in front of a whole band, and their fans. Or at least, looking like a little less of an idiot than she currently did.<br/><br/>Her father had raised her with a theory about mistakes: that if you ever made a mistake, pretend you did it on purpose, and double down so no one would think it was actually a mistake. For example, if you were walking down the street and tripped, don’t just fall, go into a commando roll, do a flip, then bounce back up to your feet and dust yourself off confidently, while saying loudly: “Hm, another day, another ninja assassin sniper taking a shot at me… but they haven’t even nicked me yet!” Because tripping and falling on your face in public: embarrassing. But acrobatically dodging a bullet from a ninja assassin sniper as if it were nothing?: awesome.<br/><br/>So as she took the boy’s hand and picked herself up, she tried to be breezy and casual, as she wracked her brain to think of an excuse that didn’t sound embarrassing, but rather sounded awesome.<strong>“Oh, yes,”</strong>she said, breezily.<strong>“I’m fine. I was just down there… checking the… acoustics… of the… … ….”</strong>Realizing that her brain had failed her, and painted her into a corner, she just gave up and went with it:<strong>“… <span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 7pt;">floor</span>.”</strong><br/><br/><strong>“Yup,”</strong>she said confidently, doubling down and nodding as if she had said exactly what she had intended to say, and meant every word.<strong>“Sounds good from down there.”</strong>She even gave the band a thumbs-up.<strong>“Very …,”</strong>once again she strained her brain for what an acoustic expert might say to describe good sound, and once again her brain failed her miserably:<strong>“ … acoustic-y.”</strong><br/><br/>Well. Now that she’d made a complete ass of herself in front of this guy and his friends – not to mention the onlookers – it was time to find an excuse to weasel away, so she could find a place to curl up and die of the humiliation of this scene.<strong>“Welp,”</strong>she said, still sounding assured and confident, as if she<em>hadn’t</em>just made herself sound like a total idiot. She dusted off her hands, then put them on her hips, nodding proudly.<strong>“Unless there’s anywhere else in here you’d like the acoustics checked, I guess my work here is done. Don’t thank me,”</strong>she said quickly, holding up a hand magnanimously.<strong>“Helping is just what I do.”</strong>