<div class="floatright">(http://cdn.pimpmyspace.org/media/pms/c/un/03/z5/mebigpants.jpg)</div><br/>http://sheetgen.dalines.net/sheet/16416?message=true (http://sheetgen.dalines.net/sheet/16416?message=true)<br/><br/>Aika rubbed at her temples as the instructor droned on and on.  Number swam in her mind.  This was her worst subject.  Give her literature, history, or even English and she'd excel, start her on advanced math and she just wanted to doodle, or fold origami from her notes.  Or how about calligraphy, that was always soothing.<br/><br/>Aika clicked a few more leads out of her pencil and scratched out some more notes, trying out an equation or two and staring dumbfounded.<br/><br/>The usually attentive girl almost missed it when the principale began to speak, but his distressed tone brought her to sudden life--like a doe at her ease sensing a wolf in the woods.<br/><br/>When the shots fired over the PA, sending shrill resonances into the receiver, she stood smoothly and started for the locker at the back of the room where she had stored her gym bag.  Panicked students surged about, pressing her away from the security of her shinai and other possessions.  Reigning in the instinct to fight her way back, or stand strong against boys bigger than she--though not necessarlly stronger--she sprang out of the rush and atop the desk of...<br/><br/>A girl she'd seen in the gym many times, a gifted athlete.<br/><br/>"Sumimasen..." excuse me, she smiled softly.  "Aori-chan, right?"<br/><br/>The