“We started walking in that direction. I rolled the Newsweek into a cylinder and held it in one hand. Sakurai said cheerfully, “Looks like a club. Are you going to protect me?” I tossed the magazine at the trash bin some distance away. It went in. “I don’t need a club to do that.” Seemingly happy, Sakurai body-checked me with all her might. I staggered from the impact. Sakurai looked at me, her brows furrowed. “Maybe we’ll need that club back.”
