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beautiful years...

The Art of War and Gym Class

The morning sun filtered through the high windows of the New City High gymnasium, casting long, rectangular shadows across the polished wooden floor. For Momoko, the smell of floor wax and old sports equipment was usually a comfort—it meant a structured environment where she could excel. Today, however, the air felt thick with a tension that had nothing to do with the upcoming volleyball drills.

Momoko stood at the center of the court, her hands on her hips, staring daggers at the back of a red baseball cap. Brick was leaning against the wall, spinning a basketball on one finger with a bored expression that made Momoko’s eye twitch.

"Alright, class," the gym teacher, Mr. Tanaka, announced while blowing a sharp whistle. "Since we have our new transfer students, we’re going to start with a friendly game of mixed dodgeball to test everyone’s coordination. I want leaders. Akatsutsumi, you take the red team. Brick, since you seem so confident, you take the blue team."

Momoko’s heart skipped a beat, then hammered against her ribs in a rhythm of pure, unadulterated competitive fury. "Oh, I’ll take the red team, alright. And I’ll make sure the blue team wishes they stayed in whatever hole they crawled out of."

Brick stopped spinning the ball. He let it drop, catching it effortlessly with one hand before turning to face her. "Big words for someone who’s barely five feet tall, Blossom. You think your little 'leader' title carries weight here? This isn't a playground fight. This is my turf now."

"We’ll see about that," Momoko hissed, her face heating up.

As the teams were picked, the atmosphere shifted from a standard gym class to a powder keg. Kaoru practically lunged to join Momoko’s side, her eyes fixed on Butch, who was currently doing one-handed pushups on the blue side just to show off. Miyako joined the red team as well, though she looked more concerned about the potential for property damage than the score.

"Don't worry, Miyako-chan," Boomer whispered from across the center line, his face tinged with that tell-tale embarrassed blue. "I’ll try not to hit you. Unless Brick yells at me. Then I might have to, but I’ll throw it really softly! Like a pillow!"

Miyako smiled, her blue eyes softening. "That’s very sweet of you, Boomer-kun. But you should probably worry about yourself. Kaoru-chan looks like she’s aiming for your shins."

The whistle blew, and the chaos began.

In a normal world, dodgeball was a game of agility. For the Powerpuff Girls and the Rowdyruff Boys, it was a tactical skirmish. They couldn't use their full powers—no energy beams, no flying, no super-speed that would break the sound barrier—but their natural reflexes were still leagues beyond any human.

A ball whistled past Momoko’s ear, launched by Brick with enough force to dent a locker. She dove to the side, rolled, and came up with a ball of her own. "Is that all you've got? My grandmother throws harder than that!"

"I was warming up!" Brick shouted back, dodging a return fire from Kaoru.

On the left flank, Butch was laughing like a maniac. He had two balls in his hands and was dancing around the court with a chaotic grace that made him nearly impossible to hit. He kept his eyes locked on Kaoru, a predatory, playful smirk on his face.

"Hey, Green! You're looking a little slow today!" Butch yelled, hurling a ball toward her feet. "Maybe that skirt is weighing you down!"

Kaoru jumped over the ball, her face twisting into a mask of pure concentration. "I told you to shut up about the skirt, you overgrown weed!"

She snatched a ball out of the air with a loud *smack* that echoed through the gym. The sheer force of the catch sent a vibration up her arms, but she didn't flinch. She wound up her arm, her muscles coiling like a spring. "Eat this!"

The ball became a green blur. Butch’s eyes widened; he barely managed to twist his body out of the way. The ball slammed into the padded wall behind him with a sound like a gunshot.

"Whoa," Butch breathed, his heart thumping against his ribs. He felt a rush of adrenaline that was almost intoxicating. He loved this. He loved the way she looked when she was trying to take his head off. "Nice aim! You almost singed my hair!"

"Next one's hitting your nose!" Kaoru barked, already reaching for another projectile.

While the "Greeens" were engaged in their private war, Boomer was having a much harder time. He was trying to look cool, but his natural clumsiness—combined with the fact that he kept getting distracted by how the sunlight hit Miyako’s blonde pigtails—was proving to be a handicap.

"Boomer, watch out!" Brick yelled.

Too late. Boomer tripped over his own shoelaces just as Miyako gently tossed a ball in his direction. It wasn't a hard throw, but since he was already falling, it hit him square in the forehead with a soft *thump*.

Boomer landed on his backside, blinking up at the ceiling. "Ow..."

Miyako gasped, running to the center line. "Oh no! Boomer-kun, are you okay? I’m so sorry, I didn't think it would actually hit you!"

Boomer looked up at her, seeing her worried face hovering over him. He felt like he was floating. "It’s okay... you have a really good throwing arm, Miyako. It felt like... like being hit by a cloud."

"You're out, idiot! Get off the court!" Brick roared, throwing his hands up in frustration.

The game narrowed down until only the leaders were left. The rest of the class had long since retreated to the bleachers, watching in a mix of awe and terror as Momoko and Brick faced off. They were both breathing hard, sweat dampening their hair.

Brick held the last ball. He tossed it up and down, his red eyes fixed on Momoko. "Just you and me, Pinky. Just like old times."

Momoko wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. "Except this time, I'm not letting you win. I have a 4.0 GPA to maintain and a reputation as the most disciplined student in this school. I am not losing to a guy who wears his hat indoors."

Brick grinned, and for a second, the aggression faded into something more complex—a spark of genuine admiration. "You really haven't changed. Still bossy. Still stubborn."

"And still better than you," Momoko retorted.

Brick lunged. He didn't throw the ball immediately; he ran toward the line, feinting a high throw before dropping low. Momoko anticipated the move, leaping into the air with a grace that shouldn't have been possible for a normal teenager.

As she hung in the air, time seemed to slow down. She looked down at Brick, and he looked up at her. For a fleeting moment, the gym disappeared. The noise of the students faded. It was just the two of them, locked in a rivalry that had defined their entire lives.

She saw the way his eyes tracked her, not with malice, but with an intensity that made her stomach do a somersault. He wasn't just his brother's leader or a villainous creation anymore. He was a boy—a frustrating, arrogant, surprisingly handsome boy who knew her better than almost anyone else in the world.

Momoko landed, but her footing was a fraction of an inch off. Her sneaker slipped on a damp patch of floor.

"Whoa!" she cried out, her arms flailing.

Brick’s instincts kicked in. He dropped the ball and crossed the center line—a total violation of the rules—and caught her by the waist before she could hit the hard floor.

The gym went silent.

Momoko found herself pressed against Brick’s chest. He smelled like peppermint and ozone. His grip was firm, his hands large and warm against her sides. She looked up, her breath hitching in her throat. Brick was staring down at her, his usual smirk gone, replaced by a look of genuine concern that he was clearly trying to hide.

"You're clumsy," he muttered, though he didn't let go.

"I... I slipped," Momoko whispered, her face turning a deep, vivid scarlet. "And you crossed the line. You're disqualified."

Brick let out a short, dry laugh, his breath brushing against her forehead. "Always worried about the rules. Even when you're about to crack your skull open."

He pulled her fully upright but kept his hands on her shoulders for a beat longer than necessary. The contact felt electric, a slow-burn heat that radiated through her school uniform.

"Hey! Break it up!" Mr. Tanaka called out, sounding more confused than angry. "Game's over! It’s a draw! Everyone go to the showers!"

Brick stepped back, shoving his hands into his pockets. He adjusted his cap, pulling the brim down low to hide the fact that his own ears were turning red. "Whatever. I would've won anyway."

"In your dreams, Brick!" Momoko shouted after him as he turned away, but her voice lacked its usual bite. She touched her waist where his hands had been, her heart still racing a mile a minute.

In the locker room afterward, the girls were uncharacteristically quiet. Kaoru was aggressively scrubbing her face, her movements jerky.

"He’s such a jerk," Kaoru muttered, though she was staring at her reflection with an unreadable expression. "Did you see him? He was literally hovering over me the whole time. It was like he was trying to pick a fight or... or something."

Miyako sat on the bench, changing back into her blue skirt. "I think they just don't know how to be normal, Kaoru-chan. But Boomer-kun was very polite. He even apologized for being in the way of my ball."

"He apologized for you hitting him?" Kaoru snorted. "That kid is a lost cause."

"He’s sensitive," Miyako defended, a small smile playing on her lips. "It’s nice. Most boys at this school are so loud and boisterous. Boomer is... different."

Momoko didn't say anything. She was busy re-tying her red ribbon, her fingers trembling slightly. She kept seeing the look in Brick’s eyes when he caught her—that split second of vulnerability that didn't belong on a Rowdyruff Boy’s face.

"Momoko? You okay? You've been staring at that locker for three minutes," Kaoru said, nudging her shoulder.

"I'm fine!" Momoko jumped, nearly dropping her hairbrush. "I’m just... thinking about the student council meeting. And the math test. And definitely not about how Brick smells like peppermint."

Kaoru and Miyako both froze.

"Peppermint?" Kaoru repeated, a slow, mischievous grin spreading across her face.

"I didn't say that!" Momoko squealed, grabbing her bag and bolting for the door. "I said... I said I need a peppermint! For my breath! Because of the... the gym air!"

"She is so in denial," Kaoru laughed, grabbing her skateboard.

"It’s romantic, isn't it?" Miyako sighed, following them out. "Like a storybook. Only with more property damage."

As they walked toward the cafeteria, they passed the boys in the hallway. Butch was leaning against the wall, watching Kaoru with that same intense gaze. As she walked by, he didn't say a word, but he reached out and flicked a stray piece of lint off her shoulder.

Kaoru stopped, her face turning green-with-envy red. "What was that for?"

"You had a bug on you," Butch lied easily, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Wouldn't want you to get scared. You're very delicate, after all."

Kaoru punched his arm—hard—but she didn't walk away immediately. "I'm not delicate. I'm a lethal weapon."

"I know," Butch whispered, leaning in so only she could hear. "That’s why I like you."

He walked away before she could respond, leaving Kaoru standing in the middle of the hall with her mouth slightly open.

Boomer waved at Miyako from down the hall, holding up a small carton of strawberry milk. "I got this for you! From the vending machine! I remembered you liked the sweet stuff!"

Miyako beamed, walking over to join him. "Oh, thank you, Boomer-kun! Would you like to sit with us at lunch?"

Boomer looked like he had just won the lottery. "Really? You mean it? Brick’s gonna call me a sap, but I don't care! Let’s go!"

Momoko watched them all, feeling a strange sense of vertigo. This wasn't the "peaceful year" she had envisioned. The lines between hero and villain, friend and enemy, were blurring into something messy and complicated.

She felt a presence behind her and didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

"Hey, Akatsutsumi," Brick said, his voice low.

"What now, Brick?"

"Lunch. The roof. Don't be late."

He didn't wait for an answer. He just kept walking, his red cape—no, his red jacket—flapping slightly in the breeze from the open window.

Momoko stood there, clutching her bag. She should say no. She should go to the library and study. She should maintain her distance and protect her sisters from the chaos these boys brought.

But as she watched him disappear around the corner, she knew she was going to that roof.

"It’s just to keep an eye on him," she whispered to herself. "For the safety of the school. Purely professional."

But as she headed toward the stairs, the small smile on her face suggested otherwise. The war was far from over, but the battlefield had moved from the skies of Tokyo to the hallways of New City High, and for the first time, Momoko was looking forward to the next fight.