My Name is Not Steve
Posted: Sun Feb 05, 2012 6:09 pm
Yo. This is an archived in-progress CYOA from GameFAQs, posted with permission of the author. No actual voting is going on here. This is just the transcription of previous posts. So, enjoy. If you can.
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You hear a knocking on your door.
You roll over in your bed, nuzzling your face deeper into your pillow. Damn pillow, you so comfy. Warm on one side, cool on another, all soft and-
BLAM BLAM BLAM.
You crack your eyes open and squint at your alarm clock, which almost blinds you with the red glare of its LED. 5:00 AM? What in the high hell? Who could come a-knockin' at this hour?
BLAM BLAM BLAM.
You groan, slowly sitting up in bed, rubbing at your eyes. In a smooth motion, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and shamble your way across the carpet to the door. You reach out your hand towards to knob, but a voice from the other side of the door makes you freeze.
"Bro, you awake? Bro! Open up!"
Your face darkens. Well, darkens even more, as your room is pitch black. The man demanding entry is no other than Dick Masterson, another one of the seniors at Yamaku. Thankfully, he lives on the second floor of the boy's dorm, so you can usually avoid playing Call of Duty with him. But now...
BLAM BLAM BLAM. "Brooooo!"
Great. Just great. You don't need this right now. Hell, maybe he's got the wrong door, and wants to talk to Kenji or Hisao.
What do you do?
A. Open the door, stand there patiently, and listen to what Dick has to say. Maybe it's important. Maybe.
B. Sit and wait for him to go away, then go ask Kenji or Hisao what the hell they did this time.
C. Crawl out through your window, drop down onto the second story ledge, break into Dick's room via window, and erase all his game saves. You almost feel guilty just thinking about it.
D. Be a gentleman, invite Dick in for some hot coffee.
-----------------------------
You're pissed.
It hasn't even been a month here, and you've got people breathing down your neck. Jesus, you'd think things would be different, in a place that didn't treat disabled people like, you know, f***in' pariahs.
"Bro! Come on! Open up!"
You look around your room. There has to be a way out of this situation. Kenji's plan of installing a trapdoor beneath his bed seems a lot more sane, all of a sudden.
Wait... the window!
You cross the room and open the curtains, peering out into the misty morning. It'll be another hour until the sun rises, and your breath fogs against the glass. Well... it's worth a shot.
You unlock the latches on your window, and open it. Or, try to, anyway. The window only cracks open about five inches. S***. Looks like this is one of those safety window frames. That... makes sense, actually, given that a lot of the medication prescribed around here has a "Warning: Suicide is a Side Effect" label. Like, most of yours.
You bend down and try to fit your head through the gap, but it doesn't hurt. You turn your head in every direction, but you can't quite make it. Besides, it's cold out there. Damn mornings.
You step back for a second, arms crossed, brow furrowed. You need something to pry this window open... like a crowbar. Even if you broke the glass pane with your desk chair, the windowframe would still be in the way. And full of broken glass.
"Damn," you mutter to yourself.
"I heard that, bro!" Dick calls out from the hallway. "Don't you try to get away through the window, or the vent in your bathroom!"
How the hell did he know about the wind- wait, vent?
You pad over to your bathroom, flip the lightswitch and blink until your vision adjusts. Well, you'll be damned. There is a vent up on the wall, a few feet above the toilet. But... it's only like eight by six inches. Well, crap.
You're trapped. What do you do?
A. Answer the door and figure out what the hell Dick wants. Actually... it might be an emergency. Maybe Hisao had a heart attack.
B. Yell at Dick to go away and go back to sleep. You need sleep to live.
C. Be a gentleman, invite him in for hot coffee, and inquire after his request.
D. Call the orderlies.
--------------------------------------------------------
You sigh.
Really, there's no good reason to be such an ass to Dick. Even though he can be absolutely insufferable at times, deep down, he's a good-
BLAM BLAM BLAM
- guy. Really. Kinda. Sorta. You think. You hope.
You flip on the light switch, your room taking on a friendly, soft yellow glow. Working out the kinks in your neck one last time, you open up the door.
There he stands, all six feet and seven inches of him, his messy blond hair in crude spikes. Dick Bates Masterson, Yamaku senior, professional bastard, cyclops, and your number one enemy.
Your number one, shirtless enemy. Guess since it's so early in the morning, he didn't really bother to get dressed- he's barefoot, only wearing the slacks of the Yamaku boys uniform. And damn, he's manly as hell.
You glance down and remember that you're only in your boxers. Even with all your exercise, your muscles aren't quite up to his bulked-out level. Damn. Another reason to hate his ass.
"Damn bro, you're pretty sexy for a dude," he says suddenly.
Yeah.... no. You close the door.
Or try to. Dick shoves his leg into the threshold just as the door slams, crushing his leg but stopping the door.
"Ow."
"The hell you want, Dick?"
He wiggles his trapped leg around. "Come on, bro. We just need to talk. Lemme in."
You sigh, again, and open the door. Dick saunters in (with a limp) and sits down at your table. "Nice place ya got here," he says with a stupid grin.
Ha ha. In the month that you've been here, you haven't personalized your dorm room at all, save for the coffee maker and two mugs you bought from the city. You blow the dust off of the never-used mug and turn on your coffee machine.
You sit down opposite to Dick. A few awkward seconds pass as the coffee machine whirs in the background. He adjusts his eyepatch nervously. You always wondered how he got it- says that he ripped it out to feed a starving bald eagle. Except... they don't have bald eagles in Japan. Chances are, he just hit himself in the eye with an Xbox controller or something.
You clear your throat. "So. You needed something, Mr. Masterson?"
And just like that, Dick shoots up and starts pacing around your room, hands anxiously clasped behind his back. What the hell. "You've gotta help me, man. I'm f***ed, man. Totally f***ed."
"Well, I know a good surgeon who could reconstruct your hymen-"
"No, seriously, man! It's about the festival! It's the deadline, and my project ain't done!"
You shrug. "So? The festival's in a week. Forget the deadline."
He drops down into a crouch to stare me in the eyes. Well, eye. "You know who set the deadline, bro? Shizune Haka-f***in'-Michi. And if I walk into that classroom without my project, I ain't coming out, man."
The coffee machine dings. You get up, fill the mugs, and sit your ass back down. "Hope you like it black, Dick. Black as your life expectancy for today." He was right. Shizune would tear his s*** up for not being done. Especially with how much she's been on his case about it. Not to mention that Dick and Shizune never really got along...
"Come on, man. School doesn't start for hours. Be a bro. This is what bros are for, right?" He snags his mug and sips at his coffee. "Ow, f***," he mumbles around a burnt tongue.
You drum your fingers against your mug. What do you do?
A. Help him out. Be a bro.
B. Help him out... but only for a price. With interest. Dick is a very resourceful guy... oddly enough.
C. Let him choke. Watching Shizune rip his ass open will be interesting.
D. Tell him to sit his ass down and drink his God damn coffee.
----------------------------------------------------
"Dick."
He's back to pacing around the room, his coffee abandoned on the table.
"Dick."
He glances at you with his remaining eye. "Huh? What?" His speech is kind of slurred, from his tongue being burnt.
"Drink your coffee."
"Man, I'm too freaked-"
You stare blankly at him, unblinking. "Sit your ass down and drink the God damned coffee, Dick."
Reluctantly, he does so, sitting down heavily and going back to his coffee. Poor bastard. He never asked for this. Maybe you should help him out. After all, he could make a powerful ally. Or, more remarkably... a powerful foe. Dick has the ability to be very, very determined. For a bet, he carried Rin Tezuka on his shoulders for an entire day, and listened to her ponderings without going criminally insane.
"Okay, look. I'll help you... for a price. Basically, every month, you cut me ten percent of your allowance. Plus, you never wake me up again. Ever. And while we're at it-"
"Miki Miura."
You blink. "What?"
"I'll put in a good word for you, man. Her class' stall and mine are like, right next to each other. So I'll tell her what a bro you are for helping me, that you're a sex god, pretty sexy for a dude, things like that."
You mull that over. Miura... ah, yes, that Amazonian goddess. You remember on your very first day, Shizune and Misha were forcing you on a death march (AKA a school tour) and you passed by the track. There she was playing a pickup soccer game, hair flying in the wind, sweat making her uniform cling to that smooth tanned skin, outlining her toned yet feminine figure. You, Shizune and Misha watched for a moment, as she and another athlete collided near the sidelines. And like a boss, you sprang forward to help her up. She looked up at you, surprised, yet a smile on her face upon meeting this gentlemanly stranger...
... And then Misha shattered the beauty with a "Wahahaha~! Our newest transfer is trying to cop a feel!"
Yeah. That day was kind of... yeah.
"Come on, man. What do you say? I bet she gives killer handjobs."
You slam your mug on the table, splashing hot coffee everywhere. "Say that again, motherf***er. Say it. I dare you. I double dare your ass."
Dick held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, man. You mad?"
"Ain't even mad." You sip at the dregs in your mug. "But you know what? I'll do it. Forget the ten percent. You lucked out." You look at Dick intently. "Now, what's this project?"
Dick throws your pants at you. "Come on, man! No time to lose!"
-0-0-0-0-0-
About thirty seconds later, you're in Dick's room. Posters of nude models cover pretty much every wall, you can't see the carpet due to the layer of dirty clothes, his schoolwork is scattered all around the room. Well, at least he's consistent.
But in the middle of the room you see a big box. A plain brown cardboard box. And next to it, an assortment of paints and brushes. You navigate Dick's obstacle course of a room and reach inside the box, pulling out one of its contents.
http://s3.amazonaws.com/images3.jlist.c ... ay_a80.jpg
Huh. It's one of those traditional noh masks. Now that you think of it, having a stand where you sell these masks would make a killing. The inherently criminal minds of children can't resist masks. Brilliant.
"Alright, let me guess. You want me to help you paint all these masks. In..." You look at his clock. "Two hours." There were more than a hundred Goddamn masks in that box. Jesus Christ.
"Yep." Dick walked over to his music player dock, and hits a few buttons. "Time for some inspirational music!"
You sigh, picking up a paintbrush. This is gonna be a long three hours.
-0-0-0-0-0-
Two hours later, your fingers are cramped and eyes bloodshot. You have painted over a hundred noh masks. While in the land down under.
"Damn bro, you're pretty good." Dick stretches, covered in paint, even with some on his eyepatch. You'd think he'd try to keep foreign crap out of his eyehole, but whatever. So are you, now that you think of it. "Thanks, man. I can take it from here. And don't worry! Miura will be on your wang in no time!"
You stumble out of Dick's room, wired from drinking another seven mugs of coffee and slightly unsettled from having all those masks stare into your soul.
Okay. It's 7:00 AM. What should you do?
A. Go run off all that caffeine at the track. Hisao and Emi usual go running at this time, you think.
B. Go back to sleep for thirty minutes. Without sleep, you die.
C. Go get breakfast at the cafeteria. Without food, you die.
D. Go play videogames in the lobby of the boy's dorm. You deserve a reward for all that festival crap.
E. Take your medication.
F. Take a shower. You're covered in paint and smell like Dick's room.
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You feel your hands shaking slightly. Yeah... you won't be able to go through an entire day of classes like this. You've got to burn off this caffeine. And what better way to do that than to go for a brisk morning run? Capital!
You head up the stairs back onto the third floor and duck into your room, shucking off your paint-covered pants and putting on some running shorts and a sleeveless shirt. You've still got paint all over your arms and hands, but, well, you can't take a shower later. No big deal.
You hit the lights and are about to leave when you remember... wait, didn't you specifically come to Yamaku because you're disabled? And... disabled... wait...
Ah, s***. You almost forgot your medication.
You trudge back into your bathroom and crack open the medicine cabinet. Grabbin' pills, you think to yourself bitterly as you choke down four massive tablets. Jesus, that's enough to kill someone.
No, literally, those four tablets are enough to kill someone. You have a hyperactive adrenal gland, which, obviously, causes your body to dump inordinate amounts of adrenaline into your bloodstream whenever you're under stress. While at first glance, that might be kind of cool, since it gives you a short burst of superhuman strength, speed and reflexes, but on the bad side, after having an adrenal seizure episode, your entire body is agonizingly sore and you have a splitting, paralyzing migraine. And you sort of... have a tendency to lose control.
You slam the medicine cabinet shut, looking at yourself in the mirror. That's the past. This is now.
-0-0-0-0-0-
You hate mornings. It's all cold and stuff, and you don't like frostbite ever since you saw a picture of a dude with no hands or feet on Google Images. You make your way down to the track, looking around shiftily for anyone else and hoping you'll be alone. You don't really want to explain why you're covered in paint-
"Hey! New guy! Heeeeey!"
Dammit. You see Emi and Hisao down on the track. Emi is jumping up and down, waving energetically, while Hisao is stretching with a look of intense concentration on his face.
You jog up to them. "'Sup."
Hisao nods to you. "'Sup."
Emi tugs on your arm, and you look down at her. "New guy! You gonna run with us? We need competition, since Hisao can't keep up with me!" Hisao sticks his tongue out at her. Emi returns the gesture.
"Yeah, I am," you say, "but look Emi, I do have a name. It's-"
"Er, what's wrong with your arms? You okay?" Hisao interrupts.
Emi lets go of your arm with a squeak, and you look glance at them. In this light, all this red paint looks like blood. Awesome. "Yeah, I'm fine. Was just helping Dick with his festiv- s***. Don't tell Shizune, okay?"
Hisao and Emi both nod, but there's a weird twinkle in Emi's eyes. Great. Blackmail material. "I wouldn't do that to my worst enemy," promises Hisao. Man, Nakai is such a bro. You're glad he's around.
"Alright, enough stretching! Running time!" And just like that, Emi takes off, with you and Hisao in tow. Emi is already in the lead, but you and Hisao are neck-in-neck at a dead run. One lap passes... and then two... and then three. Emi looks back, grinning widely at seeing you two in such a deathly race. The both of you must be going like... twenty miles per hour.
"Just... give up... don't have... a chance..." snarls Hisao through gritted teeth, sweat running down his face.
"You're... a thousand years too early... to challenge... me!" you growl, pumping your arms even harder, ignoring the lactic acid that's disintegrating your muscles.
This is it. The last lap. Emi is standing at the finish line, waving the both of you to run even faster. "Come ooooon!" she calls. "Whoever wins gets a kiss!"
You feel a vein in your temple bulge.
Now... choose your destiny!
A. Push it TO THE MAX!
B. Slow the hell down. If you get an adrenal seizure right now...
C. Try and keep pace with Hisao. If you both finish at the same time, Emi will have to kiss both of you. Giggity.
D. Trip and fall on your face. Hisao, being a nice guy, will stop and help you up. Then, you'll get up and cross the finish line in a single dash!
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Okay. Okay. Okay. You got this.
You suddenly feel a distinct lack of oxygen in your brain. And the rest of your body, for that matter.
... Okay, maybe you don't got this.
This glance over to Hisao, who's sweating like he's just dove into a tsunami and red as one of those old American fire hydrants, since, you know, all of them are yellow nowadays.
Yeah, this is stupid. Hisao has something wrong with his heart or lungs or something, and you have an adrenal illness. And you're gonna kill yourself over Emi? Sure, she's incredibly cute and probably has a dark sexy side, but that's no good if you're dead, is it?
You take it down a notch, lifting your head to breath deeper. Hisao notices you slowing and eases up too, but just enough to inch ahead of you. Stubborn bastard. You speed up, just a little...
FWOOSH
You both fly over the finish line. You lose your balance and tumble to the ground, rolling and bouncing about thirty feet. You just lay there, staring up at the sky, breathing so hard you feel like your lungs are about to implode and form miniature black holes and kill everyone. Especially Hisao. Dammit, Hisao.
Speaking of whom, you look up to see him standing over you, one hand on his knee, another clutching his chest, sweat dripping from his forehead. Christ, he looks terrible. You feel a shank of guilt plunge itself into your heart, thinking that you could've killed him over something as lame as a kiss from Emi. Tongue or not.
Speaking of whom... again... you hear her distinct footsteps as Emi springs toward to size up the both of you. "Hey! Good work out there!" she says, beaming. "Now, time for sprints-"
"Hold... up," you gasp out. "What... about... kiss... ?"
Emi puts a finger to her lips in thought. "Oh, thaaaat? Well, since it was a tie... there really wasn't a winner, was there? 'Cause there can only be one!"
"That's fine," pants Hisao. "Since I won."
"Ha ha," you huff out. "I won."
You and Hisao stare each other down. He's stubborn, all right. He'd drive nails with his forehead if it meant getting the job done. But this is one job he wouldn't be enjoying. You would. Your job. Yours.
"Boys, boys! Play nice!" Scolds Emi. "Okay, tell you what," she says, a mischievous note entering her voice. "How about both of you get a kiss?"
You and Hisao freeze, look at Emi, look at each other again, then back to Emi. You're thinking the exact same thing: 'it's not gay if our wangs don't touch.' Giggity.
At least, that's what you're thinking. Hisao is probably wanting Emi all for himself, selfish bastard.
Emi walks up to both of you, standing up straight. You leap to your feet, and Hisao straightens as well. He's a little red in the face, but you don't think that's from running...
Emi blows a kiss at Hisao, and then at you. "Mwah, mwah~"
...
You fall to your knees, staring dejectedly into the sky. "I never asked for this."
Hisao bursts out laughing, and Emi suddenly blushes. "What's so funny? Hisao! Stop it!"
You sigh. Well, you know what they say. Pick your battles. You should know that already, really, from all those damn RTS games you play. Dammit.
-0-0-0-0-0-
You, Hisao and Emi stagger your way to the nurse's office for the usual morning checkup. Well, You and Hisao stagger. Emi bounces along nonchalantly, even after doing more sprints while you and Hisao sat disappointingly on the bleachers, still struggling for air.
You stop in the hallway just before the nurse's office. Wait...
Hisao and Emi look back at you. "What's wrong?" Emi asks, tilting her head. "Don't want to go first?"
"... Yeah," you lie. "Don't want him to see how out of shape I am, know what I mean?"
Emi grins at you, waves at Hisao, and slides into the nurse's office.
S***. The nurse. That guy is weird, man. Weird. The way he makes freaky jokes about erectile dysfunction and colonoscopies and checking your balls for cancer. The way he caresses you with that stethoscope? Not. Normal. And he'll probably yell at you for overexerting yourself. And for not taking your pills properly.
"Er... you feeling okay, man? You're kinda pale..." Hisao asks concernedly.
Crap crap crap. What do you do?
A. Face your fears. The nurse is one man. And you? You're a MAN AND A HALF.
B. Half-ass some excuse and get outta there. What kind of guy has purple hair? And never opens his eyes? How does he SEE?
C. Try and go into the office with Hisao. Maybe then the nurse won't be so... eager to examine you with a witness.
D. Freak the f*** out.
----------------------------------------------
"Ain't nothing wrong."
"You sure? You look like a ghost."
"Racist."
"You know what I mean," Hisao says, rolling his eyes.
"Look, Hisao. I got ninety nine problems and this nurse ain't one, alright? I'm just tired from running." You shake out your legs to drive the point home. "I don't have a hardass trainer like Emi, after all. So, reeeelax."
Hisao shrugs. "Alright, alright." Just as he does so, Emi pops out of the nurse's office and drags Hisao in, standing out in the hall with you. She's shifting from leg to leg impatiently.
"Jesus, can't you ever stay still?"
Emi laughs. "What fun would that be? You'd always be late!" She stretches out ostentatiously. You find it kind of weird that a traditionalist school like this would have such... interesting girl's PE uniforms.
"Maybe." You crack your neck as Emi continues stretching.
"You did pretty good out there," she says, an uncharacteristically serious note in her voice. "Your form is smooth, and even when you fell you were still aiming towards the finish. Have you done track and field before?"
You open your mouth, about to explain how your skill in running came from going into adrenal fits of rage and chasing down people you hate, not letting walls, traffic, or falls to your death stop you. "Uh... no. One of those hidden talents, I guess," you say.
Emi crosses her arms. "No excuse, new guy! With great power comes great responsibility! You should join the track team! With enough training, you can keep up with me some day!" Ha ha. So modest.
You lean against the wall. "I'll think about it," you promise.
Emi pouts. "You owe me!"
You blow a kiss at her. "And now we're even."
Emi pouts even more, fists on her hips, as Hisao comes out of the nurse's office. "Great timing, man. You two go ahead, okay? This'll take a while."
Hisao frowns. "You sure?"
You wave him off. "You worry too much." You slide into the nurse's office and close the door behind you.
And grit your teeth.
"Well, well, look who it is."
A voice like wet velvet over a sharp knife. The nurse slowly rotates around in his computer chair, looking at your intensely. Well... you think he's looking at you. His eyes are closed, like always. How... does... he... SEE?
"Yeah, yeah. Unless you've got a cure for hyperactive adrenal disorder, Doc, I ain't got time."
That foxlike smile doesn't waver. Creepy. "Oh, I've got the cure. But you'd be the first test subject. And there's an expected 99.9% fatality rate. Up for it?"
"Down for it." You hop up onto the examining table. Doctor Fox listens to your heart, your breathing, checks your blood pressure, shines a light in your eyes, and tests your reflexes with that little hammer thingy. You suppress a shiver as his hands run over your bare chest and back. Do not want. He doesn't seem surprised about the paint- he's probably used to all this festival nonsense. His fingers start trailing down...
"Yeah okay see? I'm still working. So I'll just be going now." You quickly hop off the table, pull your shirt on and start walking toward the door. Calmly.
"One last thing," Doc-Fox says, still punching in records on his computer.
"Which is?"
"Have you been taking all your medicine?"
"I haven't murdered anyone yet, so you can do the math," you say dryly.
Fox-Doctor chuckles. "True enough. But remember, those depressants aren't a cure. You still need to keep your emotions in check. So stay calm."
You scowl at the door. Think I don't know that, you ass lamprey? "I know that."
"Good, good." The purple haired medical monstrosity smiles. "Have fun out there. Now get the hell out of my office. Calmly."
-0-0-0-0-0-
You step out into the empty hallway. Calmly. That guy always pisses you off... the adrenaline in your bloodstream makes you want to break something, but you resist the urge. Like he said, you can't just rage out anymore.
Now... you've got like an hour before class. Now what?
A. Go back to your dorm and take a shower. You're covered in paint still, smell like Dick's room, and drenched in sweat and that rubbery turf stuff tracks are made of. Shouldn't take long, anyway.
B. Go get breakfast. Food is required to live, after all. From your experience.
C. Go to class early, dressed as you are. And study like a boss.
D. Forget school, bro. You're ahead in all your classes. Go into town and see what's going on.
E. Chill out at the library. Yuuko always makes you feel less rage-y.
F. Go back to your room and sleep.
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Your stomach growls, the sound echoing throughout the empty halls.
Patience, my inner demon, you think to yourself. After all, you can't very well go to the cafeteria covered in sweat, track turf, paint, and the smell of the boys' dorm. You've got an image to uphold! The image of a classy, sophisticated foreigner.
So with only a little over an hour left, you run your ass back to your dorm and step into the bathroom. You pull off your clothes, throwing them into a pile on the floor, and turn on the shower. You don't even wait for the water to get warm before you jump in. As the icy water stabs into your skin like so many frozen bullets, you grit your teeth. You ain't afraid of a little cold water. You a man!
And then the water jumps from freezing to scalding, and you uselessly flail your arms in pain before it settles to a nice warm temperature. Ahhh. You're going to have a huge burn mark on your chest from that, but oh well.
You grab the soap, careful not to drop it, and start scrubbing at the paint on your arms and chest. However, no matter how hard you scrub, it doesn't seem to come off. When you think you're making progress, due to the water running down the drain taking on a shade of red, you realize it's just because you've shaved off a layer of skin from cleaning so hard. Ouch. You like having your blood inside you. Where it belongs.
"Dammit," you grunt.
Suddenly, you hear the door open. Kenji moseys into the bathroom, undoing his fly as he does. He doesn't bother to lift the seat up, either, as he starts taking a piss.
He nods to you, his glasses fogged up by the steam. "'Sup, my fellow man-brother." He sighs in pleasure. "Milk is amazing, huh? Tastes good going in, feels good coming out."
You pull the curtain across the shower, deflecting the collateral piss-spray in the nick of time. "Uh... huh. Hey." You wait a minute for him to finish, then draw back the curtain. "Say Kenji, what are you doing for the fes-"
You notice that his pants are around his ankles, and he is facing away from the toilet, hands on his knees, a look of intense concentration on his face.
You quickly pull the curtain back across. "Dude, what the hell."
"Pay close attention, Steve!" barks Kenji. "In France, men piss sitting down. That is an admission to defeat, my man-brother! To the feminization of society as a whole, when the most primal of acts is controlled! This cannot be, man-brother. For a true man must piss and die on his feet."
"When was crapping on your feet added to the list?"
"Right..." Kenji makes a grunt of effort. "... Now."
... You idly wonder if you could kill Kenji and then yourself with the showerhead, but then again, it'd make for a weird scene for the investigators. Two guys, covered in s***, dead in a bathroom. Yeah, no.
"...Anyways," you say, trying to block out the sounds, "what are you doing for that festival thing?" You pause. "And my name isn't Steve. Where the hell did you hear that?"
Kenji waves a hand dismissively. "The festival? A distraction, man-brother. The Coliseum was built in Rome not as a celebration of the masculinity of bloodsport, but as a means for the emperor's concubines to control the populace! This is exactly the same! Just replace concubines with Student Council. But they're still the same..." he whispers darkly. "Whores. All of them! Will they stop at nothing for power?"
"Yeah, sure. So what are you doing for it?"
"What? Oh. Nothing. I just painting some stalls or some crap like that so the Class Rep would get off my wang." Kenji fumbles with some toilet paper and pulls up his pants. You breath a sigh of relief, only for Kenji to unzip his pants again.
"Dude, Kenji. Not while I'm here."
"What? As long as we don't make eye contact, it's not weird. Haven't you ever heard of back-to-back, Steve?"
"Kenji, just..." You sigh again. "Okay, hold on, I'll leave. Christ." You shut off the shower and hightail it out of there. You can get your running clothes later, they're probably covered in piss anyways.
You make it back to the sanitary safety of your room, where you find a towel and start drying off. Those stupid paint stains are still stuck to your skin... and they're probably toxic, too, knowing Dick. God damn it.
Oh well. You get dressed, and mull over where to go for breakfast...
A. Cafeteria. You heard a rumor that those kinds of places contain food.
B. Go into town. It's a short run, and maybe there's some cafe you can order something quick at.
C. Find a vending machine and buy a crapload of stuff from it. Breakfast of the FUTURE!
D. Break into Kenji's room and eat his pizza and drink his milk. Drink it up.
E. Order some Chinese food. If you get a fortune cookie, then maybe you can prevent bad things from happening to you today.
F. Drink a gallon from a water fountain. Boom, free breakfast. And rehydrated.
G. Make some more coffee. Coffee is one of the six food groups, so if you drink six cups, you'll be nourished for the day. According to science.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Well, what the hell. You'll go to the cafeteria. It's free, it ain't that far, and maybe you'll even find some people to talk to and somehow validate your depressingly lonely existence. Maybe. Or maybe you'll just trip on the stairs and die. Who knows what adventures the future holds?
You go down the stairs (without dying) and plod your way into the main building, hands in your pockets as you cross the courtyard. Still too cold. Stupid dewy grass, stupid mornign breeze, stupid chirpy birds. Damn them all. More and more students are starting to mill around. Jesus, people actually get up at this time by their own choice? You're usually still asleep by now.
You push open the double-doors to the cafeteria dramatically (nearly knocking out someone on the other side) and scan your surroundings...
...
Yep, it's a cafeteria. But it's always good to make sure. Just in case.
Alright. What should you get from the line?
A. One bento box. F*** tradition, you'll eat lunch in the morning if you want.
B. Miso soup. The main ingredient in soup is water, right? You need water to live.
C. Udon noodles.You're not even sure what those are. But life is an adventure!
D. Onigiri. To be precise, a huge ass plate of them. Rice is nice.
E. Some vegan stir-fry thing. Emi and Doctor Fox did mention to eat better, or death will strike...
F. Toast. It's bread, son.
What should you get to drink?
1. Coffee. Food groups, man.
2. Green tea. Fancy. Besides, you heard you need to eat or drink all the colors of the rainbow per day. In... preschool, you think.
3. Just put ice in a glass and crunch on it. Jaw exercises be important, bro.
4. Ask for two raw eggs and break them into a glass.
5. You absorb all the liquid you need from your solid food. F*** drinks.
Who do you sit with? Emi and Hisao ain't around... odd...
Alpha. NO ONE. You are a lone wolf. No one understands you! NOT EVEN YOURSELF~
Beta. You see Lilly off in the corner on her lonesome. She'd probably be good company.
Gamma. Misha and Shizune are sitting with some of the Student Council ass-kissers, talking about festival crap. Might want to talk to them and see if you can get out of class.
Delta. Hey, it's Dick Masterson, sitting with all his douchey friends. Maybe it's time to collect on that favor...
Epsilon. Go back into the kitchens and talk with the chefs, asking them how they like their jobs and stuff.
----------------------------------------------------------
A slow drip of adrenaline dilutes in your veins. Time to get on this s***. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, after all.
You saunter over to the line leading to the counter, standing there impassively, staring into space as you contemplate your options. This is it... you only have one shot. Got to make it cou-
"May I help you?"
You blink, and realize you're being served. Damn, this line moves fast. "Uh. Yeah." Dammit, you didn't have enough time to think this through! Crap! "Toast me," you utter, without a scrap of doubt in your voice. If you're going to go down in flames, you may as well go down well starched.
"And to drink?"
"Tea. Green. Hint of lemon. Little umbrella."
"And... got it." Just like that, the chef dude behind the counter hands you a tray with one piece of toast and a cup of tea, with the little mini-umbrella and everything.
"You did good," you say seriously. "You did good." You turn on your heel before the chef can respond, and run your eyes over the tables.
Well... there's Shizune and Misha and all of their ass-kissers. Nah. You can hang out with them later.
And then there's Lilly, eating off in the corner... you feel an urge to go sit with her, but even from here, you can see that she has a serious look on her face, deep in thought. You'll leave her alone for now.
But wait... at one of this middle tables, like a douchebaggy island in a sea of jackasses, sits Dick Masterson, laughing and yelling and talking with his mouth full. How crude. You almost want to leave the cafeteria just looking at him, but you have a debt to collect. Besides, you gotta make sure that he carries through.
You walk up to the table and sit down, slamming your tray to get his attention. He doesn't notice you, being too busy devouring his... ramen-covered toast. You realize he's got an earphone in the ear on your side, so you rip it out to get his attention.
"ARGH!" he howls melodramatically. He looks over to you, his eyes full of righteous fury, but then simmering once he recognizes you. "Come on, bro, easy on the ears! I use them for balance and hearing ladies scream my name and stuff. You don't want me to turn out like Shizune, do you bro?"
You stare at him intently. Well that was horribly offensive. "Oh, of course. Then you'd have to deal with Shizune even more, wouldn't you?"
He looks at you blankly. Let's try another approach.
"So, Dick. Did you finish that essay about projection in psychology yet?"
"We don't have the same... Huh? Oh. Yeah." He stretches overdramatically. "Almost killed us, didn't it. Especially with how-"
You clap a hand over his mouth, trying to ignore the gross feel of his tongue against you fingers. You turn your head slightly to the right, and notice... Shizune staring at you. It was only for a second or two, but you felt it. A shiver runs up your spine.
"Good, good," you mutter, wiping your hand off on Dick's shoulder. "So, payment. For me helping you."
Dick slaps you on the back. "Relax, bro. All in good time. I can't just go up to her and say, 'You know that new foreign guy? He has a GIGANTIC WANG!'"
An awkward silence settles over the cafeteria. Everyone is staring at you. You hide your face in your green tea, but forget about the little umbrella and end up stabbing yourself in the eye.
"F***!"
The atmosphere returns to normal.
"You want to borrow an eyepatch, man?" asks Dick nonchalantly.
"No, I don't want your Goddamn eyepatch." Your rub your bleeding eyeball gingerly. Speaking of red... "and what the hell was in that paint? It won't come off my skin!"
Dick shrugged. "I don't know. Some permanent stuff I got from the art room. But I'm sure over time your skin will absorb it and it'll go away."
"And give me cancer."
"More than likely."
You sigh and start crunching on your toast. Man, this day sucks already. Well, at least you know Dick will be good on his word. You hope.
"By the way, bro," Dick says a little more quietly, scratching at his eye-hole, "Miura really likes those strong but silent types. Like me." He bursts out laughing. Yeah, your ears hurt now. "So just play that angle, you know what I'm saying?"
The thought of Miki Miura makes you forget about your punctured eyeball for a moment. Mmmmm... yeah. She makes all this crap worth it. You dunk your toast in your tea and finish it off, twirling the bloodstained mini-umbrella absentmindedly.
The bell rings. Damn. Time flies when you're eating toast. Now what?
A. What do you mean, "now what?" Go to class, dumbass!
B. School is for the brainwashed masses, man. Go to your dorm and sleep.
C. Forget class and go hang out in town for the day.
D. Go talk to Misha and see if she has any Student Council crap that can get you out of class.
E. Somehow injure Dick so he has to go the nurse's office, then accompany him as a "friend". Perfect excuse to skip class.
---------------------------------------------------
You sigh. Well, you can't avoid class forever. You leave your plate on the collection counter and run back to the boy's dorm to get your books and crap. Should've brought them with you when you want to the cafeteria. Damn. Oh well.
You stare at Dick before you leave, hoping he gets the message. You didn't want to waste all of that delicious sleep for nothing.
-0-0-0-0-0-
The run to the boy's dorm and to Mutou's class was uneventful, thankfully. You've had enough crap going on today.
You sit down in your usual seat- at the very back of the class, two desks away from Hanako- and get out all your notes and stuff. You amuse yourself by drawing little formations of swordsmen preparing to hack and stab each other to death. It's about fifteen minutes of this paper-and-pencil Age of Empires nonsense before you look up at the clock and notice... class started ten minutes ago. You idly wonder where-
The door slams open as Mutou saunters into the classroom, not saying a word as he guzzles his coffee. His jacket is ruffled, he's unshaved as a Goddamn bear, and his tie isn't even tied, just hanging around his shoulders. He tosses his suitcase across the room, where it lands on his desk, and without further ado, starts writing out equations and graphs without even looking back, talking about theories and stuff like he was raised reciting them. What a bro.
As much as you love his random lectures about black holes and quantum theory and alternate dimensions and time travel and stuff, you feel yourself getting tired. He sort of has this... droning voice. Like the sound of a piano burning.
You scratch the back of your neck, looking at your notes boredly. You glance at Hanako out of the corner of your eye. Huh, she hasn't left yet. What do you do?
A. Take a nap. You need sleep to live.
B. Chuck a note at [insert fellow classmate here].
C. Say you need to go the bathroom and ditch class.
D. Stab yourself in the hand with your pen to stay awake. EDUCATION is IMPORTANT, Goddamn it.
E. Stare at Miki Miura and start fantasizing.
F. Raise your hand and ask a question. [Insert question here.]
G. Play games on your calculator. Sinjid: Shadow of the Warrior is pretty boss, after all.
H. Listen to music as you take notes. That'll keep you awake.
------------------------------------------------------------
Yeah. This lecture is going nowhere at about a million nothings a second. Feeling unusually brave, you spot Miki Miura in the front row. You watch, entranced, as she yawns soundlessly, arching her back and shaking her hair. Oh man. Now you're all hot and bothered and adrenaline-filled.
Feeling unusually brave, you carefully tear out a page of your notebook and, biting your lip in concentration, scrawl a little picture of Mutou's face on it, with "SCIENCE!" written across his forehead.
http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5152/5899 ... d7d7_b.jpg
Underneath it, you write, "I never asked for this."
Chucking it at Miki would be too obvious, as she's in the front and you're in the back. Instead, you fold it into a dodecahedron and bowl it under her desk, where it bumps her ankle. She notices, picks it up and unfolds it... and suddenly gives a small cough which she quickly covers with her hand.
She looks around the room for a second, trying to find the sender. Her eyes lock onto yours, and you arch an eyebrow.
She turns back to her desk and writes out her own note before bowling it back to you.
"Thanks. Not like I was planning on sleeping tonight, or anything." Below, there's a crude sketch of Miki in her bed with Mutou's face peeking from under it.
http://farm5.staticflickr.com/4132/5102 ... 690f_b.jpg
You shiver. That makes two poor, sleepless souls. Under the sketch she wrote, "Are you getting any of this?"
You write back, "Something about black holes and wormholes and penetrating spacetime. Very Freudian. I think he was hit by a meteor as a child." You sketch a caricature of a pantless Mutou humping a black hole. You're not sure how that works... but somehow it does. You bowl it back to Miki.
She covers up her laughter with another cough, but some other students are looking at you now. Hisao shoots you a "bro this is about subatomic particles, and you're made of Goddamn subatomic particles" kind of look. Oh, Hisao. You and your science.
The note is bowled back. "No more horrific imagery. I've had enough mental scarring for one day."
Bowled to Miki. "I'll make you a deal. What're you doing for lunch? I want to see what's in town."
Back to you. "Lunch break isn't much time to see an entire town, you know. (O_o;)"
Back to Miki. "Says the star of the track team. We'll run. Come on. Humor the new guy. \(-_-)/"
Back to you. "You're a persistent one. Alright, alright. You win. But you pay."
Back to Miki. "Fair enough."
You're surprised that a note-conversation that long went unnoticed by Mutou. Sweet. Unfortunately... not everyone failed to notice. Shizune is drilling holes into your head with that death glare of hers. S***.
The bell rings, thank God, and you spring out of your seat like a kangaroo. Miki gives you a grin and a wave, and your heart a-pounding, you go to meet her... only to be intercepted by Shizune and Misha. F***.
"Not so fast, Foreign-Exchange-Student-chan~!" pipes Misha, grinning victoriously. "You may be new here, but even in America, I'm sure they have rules about passing notes in class!" Her voice is cheery as usual, but Shizune is signing like she wants to wring your neck. "But, this won't be brought to Mr. Mutou's attention if you work with us over lunch..." There's a glint of something in Shizune's eye. The gleam of a killer.
Miki is at the door, waiting expectantly. What do?
A. F*** it. Run out the door with Miki.
B. Tell Misha and Shizune you'll make up for it later.
C. Tell Shizune that Miki is showing you the town, and you don't have time for this right now.
D. Apologize. Japanese style. With the headbang and everything.
E. Surrender and go with them. Goddamn Student Council.
F. "Hisao! Save me!"
G. Tell Misha you're on a date. She'll understand.
H. You're not even from America. Racist.
----------------------------------------------------------
Time slows down for a moment. You don't have time to think this through. You see Hisao in the corner of your eye, leaning against his desk and watching the show with mild amusement. Damn you, Hisao. Damn you and your stupid hair and sweatervests and-
You lean forward slightly. "Misha, Shizune," you say with a calmness you don't feel, "I'm not even American. I know I look American. I know my Japanese isn't very good. I know that there's a comical stereotype of the ignorant, uncultured cowboy coming over to Japan on his horse, but that's not me. Okay?" You take a deep breath. "You're not making this easy for me, much less with the culture shock."
Misha automatically looks stricken, and clasps her hands together. "Transfer-chan..."
But Shizune is unfazed. She continues to sign. She's good.
"Misunderstandings aside," translate Misha, "you should-"
"Misunderstandings? Your my class rep, and the student council prez. It's within your station to have at least simple details like this hammered out, don't you think?"
She keeps her cool, but there's that gleam in her eyes again. Her lips tugging upward slightly. She accepts your challenge. "I cannot read your personal file without your express written consent," Misha translates.
S***. That's right. "Even so," you say, trying to keep your roll going, "another duty of the class rep is to see that new students are acclimated to their environment. And Miki is about to take me on a tour of the town. So, by extension, you're giving me a tour- and fulfilling your duty. I love it when things work out, don't you?"
"That doesn't erase your past crimes." Goddamn she doesn't flinch.
You shrug. "True. But it doesn't erase your past failures to give me a proper tour. So, I'll help you out in the council room later. I'd say that makes us even, right?"
Shizune's eyes are like glass balls of fire, man, and she's signing like a sushi chef chopping up fish. She's pissed. If there's one thing she hates more than losing, it's compromise. "Very well," translates Misha. Who grins at you. "Go on, don't leave your date waiting!" Yeah, that came from Misha. Definitely not Shizune.
You're taking some sign language classes here, so for extra cool points you sign "Until next time" to Shizune as you walk out the door with Miki. The class rep's little smile is still there, though. That predatory smile. You're gonna have to watch your ass around her.
You don't want to let Shizune catch you idling out in the hall, so you and Miki burst through the front doors of the school and start jogging toward the gate. She laughs. "That was pretty good. I thought she was going to have you in chains by the end of it."
"This old dog still has some tricks left in him." As you jog, you find your eyes magnetized to Miki's shirt. She wears the boy's uniform shirt for some reason, and despite that she's clearly wearing a sports bra under it, they bounce, man. They bounce. Bounce bounce bounce-
Hey, wait. You're still carrying your books and bag and crap. "Where should we-"
As if on cue, Miki chucks her bag into a nearby bush. You look at her with an incredulous grin. "Seriously?"
"Sure you don't come from the Wild West? You don't have to worry about someone stealing your pencils or paper clips. Hell, you leave money lying around and it'll show up at the lost and found."
You chuck your stuff into the bush as well. Eh, she's got a point. This place seems pretty friendly. "Point taken." The two of you exit the gate and accelerate your jog into an easy run as you descend the mountain into town. Despite it being spring, it's pretty damn warm out, and there's a sheen of sweat on your forehead once you hit the town. Doesn't really help that it's humid as all hell, too. Stupid Japan.
At the bottom of the mountain, you look around. Looks... just like any sleepy Japanese outskirt, really. A lot of trees, not many cars on the road, most walls are hand-made of stone, sidewalks are cobbled. Nice place. Too many old people, though. Goddamn vampires.
"All right, tour girl. Where are we-" You turn around, and see that Miki is already fifty feet in another direction. "Hey, the hell?"
"We've got a time limit, remember?" she calls out from over her shoulder. Ha. You speed up and match pace with her, listening intently as she points out the local places of interest. Which are few, and not very interesting. At all. But the trees flank every road, casting the place in dappled shadow, and this is nice. Running alongside Miki, for the first time in a long time, you feel... calm. It's a weird feeling. Like getting a boner at a funeral.
Finally, after lapping the hamlet, the two of you stop in a small park. You put your hands on your knees and catch your breath, but Miki is just standing there, looking around, seeing if there's anything else to show you. You can't help but glance at her left hand- or, what's left of it. As she ran, the bandages around it began to loosen, and you can almost see the skin underneath. Almost-
"Hey."
You look up. She's looking down at your thoughtfully. "We've got ten minutes to kill. You up for a drink?"
You nod, on second thought wondering if she meant to go get hammered on sake in some alley, but she pulls at your wrist and eventually leads you to a little cafe tucked away in a corner. Huh. The sign says "Shanghai". But we're in Japan. The hell, man.
Miki waltzes in, a little bell dinging as she does. She doesn't bother to wait to be seated, and just slides into one of the side booths, throwing a menu at you like a shuriken. You catch it deftly and follow her lead.
Looking over the top of the menu you see the waitress shows up, bowing profusely. She seems kind of familiar... but as Miki orders, you realize you don't know what to talk about with her. Your heart rate picks up. Crap.
The waitress turns to you, notepad in hand...
---------------------------------------------------------
To be continued.
-------------------------------------------
You hear a knocking on your door.
You roll over in your bed, nuzzling your face deeper into your pillow. Damn pillow, you so comfy. Warm on one side, cool on another, all soft and-
BLAM BLAM BLAM.
You crack your eyes open and squint at your alarm clock, which almost blinds you with the red glare of its LED. 5:00 AM? What in the high hell? Who could come a-knockin' at this hour?
BLAM BLAM BLAM.
You groan, slowly sitting up in bed, rubbing at your eyes. In a smooth motion, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and shamble your way across the carpet to the door. You reach out your hand towards to knob, but a voice from the other side of the door makes you freeze.
"Bro, you awake? Bro! Open up!"
Your face darkens. Well, darkens even more, as your room is pitch black. The man demanding entry is no other than Dick Masterson, another one of the seniors at Yamaku. Thankfully, he lives on the second floor of the boy's dorm, so you can usually avoid playing Call of Duty with him. But now...
BLAM BLAM BLAM. "Brooooo!"
Great. Just great. You don't need this right now. Hell, maybe he's got the wrong door, and wants to talk to Kenji or Hisao.
What do you do?
A. Open the door, stand there patiently, and listen to what Dick has to say. Maybe it's important. Maybe.
B. Sit and wait for him to go away, then go ask Kenji or Hisao what the hell they did this time.
C. Crawl out through your window, drop down onto the second story ledge, break into Dick's room via window, and erase all his game saves. You almost feel guilty just thinking about it.
D. Be a gentleman, invite Dick in for some hot coffee.
-----------------------------
You're pissed.
It hasn't even been a month here, and you've got people breathing down your neck. Jesus, you'd think things would be different, in a place that didn't treat disabled people like, you know, f***in' pariahs.
"Bro! Come on! Open up!"
You look around your room. There has to be a way out of this situation. Kenji's plan of installing a trapdoor beneath his bed seems a lot more sane, all of a sudden.
Wait... the window!
You cross the room and open the curtains, peering out into the misty morning. It'll be another hour until the sun rises, and your breath fogs against the glass. Well... it's worth a shot.
You unlock the latches on your window, and open it. Or, try to, anyway. The window only cracks open about five inches. S***. Looks like this is one of those safety window frames. That... makes sense, actually, given that a lot of the medication prescribed around here has a "Warning: Suicide is a Side Effect" label. Like, most of yours.
You bend down and try to fit your head through the gap, but it doesn't hurt. You turn your head in every direction, but you can't quite make it. Besides, it's cold out there. Damn mornings.
You step back for a second, arms crossed, brow furrowed. You need something to pry this window open... like a crowbar. Even if you broke the glass pane with your desk chair, the windowframe would still be in the way. And full of broken glass.
"Damn," you mutter to yourself.
"I heard that, bro!" Dick calls out from the hallway. "Don't you try to get away through the window, or the vent in your bathroom!"
How the hell did he know about the wind- wait, vent?
You pad over to your bathroom, flip the lightswitch and blink until your vision adjusts. Well, you'll be damned. There is a vent up on the wall, a few feet above the toilet. But... it's only like eight by six inches. Well, crap.
You're trapped. What do you do?
A. Answer the door and figure out what the hell Dick wants. Actually... it might be an emergency. Maybe Hisao had a heart attack.
B. Yell at Dick to go away and go back to sleep. You need sleep to live.
C. Be a gentleman, invite him in for hot coffee, and inquire after his request.
D. Call the orderlies.
--------------------------------------------------------
You sigh.
Really, there's no good reason to be such an ass to Dick. Even though he can be absolutely insufferable at times, deep down, he's a good-
BLAM BLAM BLAM
- guy. Really. Kinda. Sorta. You think. You hope.
You flip on the light switch, your room taking on a friendly, soft yellow glow. Working out the kinks in your neck one last time, you open up the door.
There he stands, all six feet and seven inches of him, his messy blond hair in crude spikes. Dick Bates Masterson, Yamaku senior, professional bastard, cyclops, and your number one enemy.
Your number one, shirtless enemy. Guess since it's so early in the morning, he didn't really bother to get dressed- he's barefoot, only wearing the slacks of the Yamaku boys uniform. And damn, he's manly as hell.
You glance down and remember that you're only in your boxers. Even with all your exercise, your muscles aren't quite up to his bulked-out level. Damn. Another reason to hate his ass.
"Damn bro, you're pretty sexy for a dude," he says suddenly.
Yeah.... no. You close the door.
Or try to. Dick shoves his leg into the threshold just as the door slams, crushing his leg but stopping the door.
"Ow."
"The hell you want, Dick?"
He wiggles his trapped leg around. "Come on, bro. We just need to talk. Lemme in."
You sigh, again, and open the door. Dick saunters in (with a limp) and sits down at your table. "Nice place ya got here," he says with a stupid grin.
Ha ha. In the month that you've been here, you haven't personalized your dorm room at all, save for the coffee maker and two mugs you bought from the city. You blow the dust off of the never-used mug and turn on your coffee machine.
You sit down opposite to Dick. A few awkward seconds pass as the coffee machine whirs in the background. He adjusts his eyepatch nervously. You always wondered how he got it- says that he ripped it out to feed a starving bald eagle. Except... they don't have bald eagles in Japan. Chances are, he just hit himself in the eye with an Xbox controller or something.
You clear your throat. "So. You needed something, Mr. Masterson?"
And just like that, Dick shoots up and starts pacing around your room, hands anxiously clasped behind his back. What the hell. "You've gotta help me, man. I'm f***ed, man. Totally f***ed."
"Well, I know a good surgeon who could reconstruct your hymen-"
"No, seriously, man! It's about the festival! It's the deadline, and my project ain't done!"
You shrug. "So? The festival's in a week. Forget the deadline."
He drops down into a crouch to stare me in the eyes. Well, eye. "You know who set the deadline, bro? Shizune Haka-f***in'-Michi. And if I walk into that classroom without my project, I ain't coming out, man."
The coffee machine dings. You get up, fill the mugs, and sit your ass back down. "Hope you like it black, Dick. Black as your life expectancy for today." He was right. Shizune would tear his s*** up for not being done. Especially with how much she's been on his case about it. Not to mention that Dick and Shizune never really got along...
"Come on, man. School doesn't start for hours. Be a bro. This is what bros are for, right?" He snags his mug and sips at his coffee. "Ow, f***," he mumbles around a burnt tongue.
You drum your fingers against your mug. What do you do?
A. Help him out. Be a bro.
B. Help him out... but only for a price. With interest. Dick is a very resourceful guy... oddly enough.
C. Let him choke. Watching Shizune rip his ass open will be interesting.
D. Tell him to sit his ass down and drink his God damn coffee.
----------------------------------------------------
"Dick."
He's back to pacing around the room, his coffee abandoned on the table.
"Dick."
He glances at you with his remaining eye. "Huh? What?" His speech is kind of slurred, from his tongue being burnt.
"Drink your coffee."
"Man, I'm too freaked-"
You stare blankly at him, unblinking. "Sit your ass down and drink the God damned coffee, Dick."
Reluctantly, he does so, sitting down heavily and going back to his coffee. Poor bastard. He never asked for this. Maybe you should help him out. After all, he could make a powerful ally. Or, more remarkably... a powerful foe. Dick has the ability to be very, very determined. For a bet, he carried Rin Tezuka on his shoulders for an entire day, and listened to her ponderings without going criminally insane.
"Okay, look. I'll help you... for a price. Basically, every month, you cut me ten percent of your allowance. Plus, you never wake me up again. Ever. And while we're at it-"
"Miki Miura."
You blink. "What?"
"I'll put in a good word for you, man. Her class' stall and mine are like, right next to each other. So I'll tell her what a bro you are for helping me, that you're a sex god, pretty sexy for a dude, things like that."
You mull that over. Miura... ah, yes, that Amazonian goddess. You remember on your very first day, Shizune and Misha were forcing you on a death march (AKA a school tour) and you passed by the track. There she was playing a pickup soccer game, hair flying in the wind, sweat making her uniform cling to that smooth tanned skin, outlining her toned yet feminine figure. You, Shizune and Misha watched for a moment, as she and another athlete collided near the sidelines. And like a boss, you sprang forward to help her up. She looked up at you, surprised, yet a smile on her face upon meeting this gentlemanly stranger...
... And then Misha shattered the beauty with a "Wahahaha~! Our newest transfer is trying to cop a feel!"
Yeah. That day was kind of... yeah.
"Come on, man. What do you say? I bet she gives killer handjobs."
You slam your mug on the table, splashing hot coffee everywhere. "Say that again, motherf***er. Say it. I dare you. I double dare your ass."
Dick held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, man. You mad?"
"Ain't even mad." You sip at the dregs in your mug. "But you know what? I'll do it. Forget the ten percent. You lucked out." You look at Dick intently. "Now, what's this project?"
Dick throws your pants at you. "Come on, man! No time to lose!"
-0-0-0-0-0-
About thirty seconds later, you're in Dick's room. Posters of nude models cover pretty much every wall, you can't see the carpet due to the layer of dirty clothes, his schoolwork is scattered all around the room. Well, at least he's consistent.
But in the middle of the room you see a big box. A plain brown cardboard box. And next to it, an assortment of paints and brushes. You navigate Dick's obstacle course of a room and reach inside the box, pulling out one of its contents.
http://s3.amazonaws.com/images3.jlist.c ... ay_a80.jpg
Huh. It's one of those traditional noh masks. Now that you think of it, having a stand where you sell these masks would make a killing. The inherently criminal minds of children can't resist masks. Brilliant.
"Alright, let me guess. You want me to help you paint all these masks. In..." You look at his clock. "Two hours." There were more than a hundred Goddamn masks in that box. Jesus Christ.
"Yep." Dick walked over to his music player dock, and hits a few buttons. "Time for some inspirational music!"
You sigh, picking up a paintbrush. This is gonna be a long three hours.
-0-0-0-0-0-
Two hours later, your fingers are cramped and eyes bloodshot. You have painted over a hundred noh masks. While in the land down under.
"Damn bro, you're pretty good." Dick stretches, covered in paint, even with some on his eyepatch. You'd think he'd try to keep foreign crap out of his eyehole, but whatever. So are you, now that you think of it. "Thanks, man. I can take it from here. And don't worry! Miura will be on your wang in no time!"
You stumble out of Dick's room, wired from drinking another seven mugs of coffee and slightly unsettled from having all those masks stare into your soul.
Okay. It's 7:00 AM. What should you do?
A. Go run off all that caffeine at the track. Hisao and Emi usual go running at this time, you think.
B. Go back to sleep for thirty minutes. Without sleep, you die.
C. Go get breakfast at the cafeteria. Without food, you die.
D. Go play videogames in the lobby of the boy's dorm. You deserve a reward for all that festival crap.
E. Take your medication.
F. Take a shower. You're covered in paint and smell like Dick's room.
----------------------------------------------------
You feel your hands shaking slightly. Yeah... you won't be able to go through an entire day of classes like this. You've got to burn off this caffeine. And what better way to do that than to go for a brisk morning run? Capital!
You head up the stairs back onto the third floor and duck into your room, shucking off your paint-covered pants and putting on some running shorts and a sleeveless shirt. You've still got paint all over your arms and hands, but, well, you can't take a shower later. No big deal.
You hit the lights and are about to leave when you remember... wait, didn't you specifically come to Yamaku because you're disabled? And... disabled... wait...
Ah, s***. You almost forgot your medication.
You trudge back into your bathroom and crack open the medicine cabinet. Grabbin' pills, you think to yourself bitterly as you choke down four massive tablets. Jesus, that's enough to kill someone.
No, literally, those four tablets are enough to kill someone. You have a hyperactive adrenal gland, which, obviously, causes your body to dump inordinate amounts of adrenaline into your bloodstream whenever you're under stress. While at first glance, that might be kind of cool, since it gives you a short burst of superhuman strength, speed and reflexes, but on the bad side, after having an adrenal seizure episode, your entire body is agonizingly sore and you have a splitting, paralyzing migraine. And you sort of... have a tendency to lose control.
You slam the medicine cabinet shut, looking at yourself in the mirror. That's the past. This is now.
-0-0-0-0-0-
You hate mornings. It's all cold and stuff, and you don't like frostbite ever since you saw a picture of a dude with no hands or feet on Google Images. You make your way down to the track, looking around shiftily for anyone else and hoping you'll be alone. You don't really want to explain why you're covered in paint-
"Hey! New guy! Heeeeey!"
Dammit. You see Emi and Hisao down on the track. Emi is jumping up and down, waving energetically, while Hisao is stretching with a look of intense concentration on his face.
You jog up to them. "'Sup."
Hisao nods to you. "'Sup."
Emi tugs on your arm, and you look down at her. "New guy! You gonna run with us? We need competition, since Hisao can't keep up with me!" Hisao sticks his tongue out at her. Emi returns the gesture.
"Yeah, I am," you say, "but look Emi, I do have a name. It's-"
"Er, what's wrong with your arms? You okay?" Hisao interrupts.
Emi lets go of your arm with a squeak, and you look glance at them. In this light, all this red paint looks like blood. Awesome. "Yeah, I'm fine. Was just helping Dick with his festiv- s***. Don't tell Shizune, okay?"
Hisao and Emi both nod, but there's a weird twinkle in Emi's eyes. Great. Blackmail material. "I wouldn't do that to my worst enemy," promises Hisao. Man, Nakai is such a bro. You're glad he's around.
"Alright, enough stretching! Running time!" And just like that, Emi takes off, with you and Hisao in tow. Emi is already in the lead, but you and Hisao are neck-in-neck at a dead run. One lap passes... and then two... and then three. Emi looks back, grinning widely at seeing you two in such a deathly race. The both of you must be going like... twenty miles per hour.
"Just... give up... don't have... a chance..." snarls Hisao through gritted teeth, sweat running down his face.
"You're... a thousand years too early... to challenge... me!" you growl, pumping your arms even harder, ignoring the lactic acid that's disintegrating your muscles.
This is it. The last lap. Emi is standing at the finish line, waving the both of you to run even faster. "Come ooooon!" she calls. "Whoever wins gets a kiss!"
You feel a vein in your temple bulge.
Now... choose your destiny!
A. Push it TO THE MAX!
B. Slow the hell down. If you get an adrenal seizure right now...
C. Try and keep pace with Hisao. If you both finish at the same time, Emi will have to kiss both of you. Giggity.
D. Trip and fall on your face. Hisao, being a nice guy, will stop and help you up. Then, you'll get up and cross the finish line in a single dash!
------------------------------------------------
Okay. Okay. Okay. You got this.
You suddenly feel a distinct lack of oxygen in your brain. And the rest of your body, for that matter.
... Okay, maybe you don't got this.
This glance over to Hisao, who's sweating like he's just dove into a tsunami and red as one of those old American fire hydrants, since, you know, all of them are yellow nowadays.
Yeah, this is stupid. Hisao has something wrong with his heart or lungs or something, and you have an adrenal illness. And you're gonna kill yourself over Emi? Sure, she's incredibly cute and probably has a dark sexy side, but that's no good if you're dead, is it?
You take it down a notch, lifting your head to breath deeper. Hisao notices you slowing and eases up too, but just enough to inch ahead of you. Stubborn bastard. You speed up, just a little...
FWOOSH
You both fly over the finish line. You lose your balance and tumble to the ground, rolling and bouncing about thirty feet. You just lay there, staring up at the sky, breathing so hard you feel like your lungs are about to implode and form miniature black holes and kill everyone. Especially Hisao. Dammit, Hisao.
Speaking of whom, you look up to see him standing over you, one hand on his knee, another clutching his chest, sweat dripping from his forehead. Christ, he looks terrible. You feel a shank of guilt plunge itself into your heart, thinking that you could've killed him over something as lame as a kiss from Emi. Tongue or not.
Speaking of whom... again... you hear her distinct footsteps as Emi springs toward to size up the both of you. "Hey! Good work out there!" she says, beaming. "Now, time for sprints-"
"Hold... up," you gasp out. "What... about... kiss... ?"
Emi puts a finger to her lips in thought. "Oh, thaaaat? Well, since it was a tie... there really wasn't a winner, was there? 'Cause there can only be one!"
"That's fine," pants Hisao. "Since I won."
"Ha ha," you huff out. "I won."
You and Hisao stare each other down. He's stubborn, all right. He'd drive nails with his forehead if it meant getting the job done. But this is one job he wouldn't be enjoying. You would. Your job. Yours.
"Boys, boys! Play nice!" Scolds Emi. "Okay, tell you what," she says, a mischievous note entering her voice. "How about both of you get a kiss?"
You and Hisao freeze, look at Emi, look at each other again, then back to Emi. You're thinking the exact same thing: 'it's not gay if our wangs don't touch.' Giggity.
At least, that's what you're thinking. Hisao is probably wanting Emi all for himself, selfish bastard.
Emi walks up to both of you, standing up straight. You leap to your feet, and Hisao straightens as well. He's a little red in the face, but you don't think that's from running...
Emi blows a kiss at Hisao, and then at you. "Mwah, mwah~"
...
You fall to your knees, staring dejectedly into the sky. "I never asked for this."
Hisao bursts out laughing, and Emi suddenly blushes. "What's so funny? Hisao! Stop it!"
You sigh. Well, you know what they say. Pick your battles. You should know that already, really, from all those damn RTS games you play. Dammit.
-0-0-0-0-0-
You, Hisao and Emi stagger your way to the nurse's office for the usual morning checkup. Well, You and Hisao stagger. Emi bounces along nonchalantly, even after doing more sprints while you and Hisao sat disappointingly on the bleachers, still struggling for air.
You stop in the hallway just before the nurse's office. Wait...
Hisao and Emi look back at you. "What's wrong?" Emi asks, tilting her head. "Don't want to go first?"
"... Yeah," you lie. "Don't want him to see how out of shape I am, know what I mean?"
Emi grins at you, waves at Hisao, and slides into the nurse's office.
S***. The nurse. That guy is weird, man. Weird. The way he makes freaky jokes about erectile dysfunction and colonoscopies and checking your balls for cancer. The way he caresses you with that stethoscope? Not. Normal. And he'll probably yell at you for overexerting yourself. And for not taking your pills properly.
"Er... you feeling okay, man? You're kinda pale..." Hisao asks concernedly.
Crap crap crap. What do you do?
A. Face your fears. The nurse is one man. And you? You're a MAN AND A HALF.
B. Half-ass some excuse and get outta there. What kind of guy has purple hair? And never opens his eyes? How does he SEE?
C. Try and go into the office with Hisao. Maybe then the nurse won't be so... eager to examine you with a witness.
D. Freak the f*** out.
----------------------------------------------
"Ain't nothing wrong."
"You sure? You look like a ghost."
"Racist."
"You know what I mean," Hisao says, rolling his eyes.
"Look, Hisao. I got ninety nine problems and this nurse ain't one, alright? I'm just tired from running." You shake out your legs to drive the point home. "I don't have a hardass trainer like Emi, after all. So, reeeelax."
Hisao shrugs. "Alright, alright." Just as he does so, Emi pops out of the nurse's office and drags Hisao in, standing out in the hall with you. She's shifting from leg to leg impatiently.
"Jesus, can't you ever stay still?"
Emi laughs. "What fun would that be? You'd always be late!" She stretches out ostentatiously. You find it kind of weird that a traditionalist school like this would have such... interesting girl's PE uniforms.
"Maybe." You crack your neck as Emi continues stretching.
"You did pretty good out there," she says, an uncharacteristically serious note in her voice. "Your form is smooth, and even when you fell you were still aiming towards the finish. Have you done track and field before?"
You open your mouth, about to explain how your skill in running came from going into adrenal fits of rage and chasing down people you hate, not letting walls, traffic, or falls to your death stop you. "Uh... no. One of those hidden talents, I guess," you say.
Emi crosses her arms. "No excuse, new guy! With great power comes great responsibility! You should join the track team! With enough training, you can keep up with me some day!" Ha ha. So modest.
You lean against the wall. "I'll think about it," you promise.
Emi pouts. "You owe me!"
You blow a kiss at her. "And now we're even."
Emi pouts even more, fists on her hips, as Hisao comes out of the nurse's office. "Great timing, man. You two go ahead, okay? This'll take a while."
Hisao frowns. "You sure?"
You wave him off. "You worry too much." You slide into the nurse's office and close the door behind you.
And grit your teeth.
"Well, well, look who it is."
A voice like wet velvet over a sharp knife. The nurse slowly rotates around in his computer chair, looking at your intensely. Well... you think he's looking at you. His eyes are closed, like always. How... does... he... SEE?
"Yeah, yeah. Unless you've got a cure for hyperactive adrenal disorder, Doc, I ain't got time."
That foxlike smile doesn't waver. Creepy. "Oh, I've got the cure. But you'd be the first test subject. And there's an expected 99.9% fatality rate. Up for it?"
"Down for it." You hop up onto the examining table. Doctor Fox listens to your heart, your breathing, checks your blood pressure, shines a light in your eyes, and tests your reflexes with that little hammer thingy. You suppress a shiver as his hands run over your bare chest and back. Do not want. He doesn't seem surprised about the paint- he's probably used to all this festival nonsense. His fingers start trailing down...
"Yeah okay see? I'm still working. So I'll just be going now." You quickly hop off the table, pull your shirt on and start walking toward the door. Calmly.
"One last thing," Doc-Fox says, still punching in records on his computer.
"Which is?"
"Have you been taking all your medicine?"
"I haven't murdered anyone yet, so you can do the math," you say dryly.
Fox-Doctor chuckles. "True enough. But remember, those depressants aren't a cure. You still need to keep your emotions in check. So stay calm."
You scowl at the door. Think I don't know that, you ass lamprey? "I know that."
"Good, good." The purple haired medical monstrosity smiles. "Have fun out there. Now get the hell out of my office. Calmly."
-0-0-0-0-0-
You step out into the empty hallway. Calmly. That guy always pisses you off... the adrenaline in your bloodstream makes you want to break something, but you resist the urge. Like he said, you can't just rage out anymore.
Now... you've got like an hour before class. Now what?
A. Go back to your dorm and take a shower. You're covered in paint still, smell like Dick's room, and drenched in sweat and that rubbery turf stuff tracks are made of. Shouldn't take long, anyway.
B. Go get breakfast. Food is required to live, after all. From your experience.
C. Go to class early, dressed as you are. And study like a boss.
D. Forget school, bro. You're ahead in all your classes. Go into town and see what's going on.
E. Chill out at the library. Yuuko always makes you feel less rage-y.
F. Go back to your room and sleep.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Your stomach growls, the sound echoing throughout the empty halls.
Patience, my inner demon, you think to yourself. After all, you can't very well go to the cafeteria covered in sweat, track turf, paint, and the smell of the boys' dorm. You've got an image to uphold! The image of a classy, sophisticated foreigner.
So with only a little over an hour left, you run your ass back to your dorm and step into the bathroom. You pull off your clothes, throwing them into a pile on the floor, and turn on the shower. You don't even wait for the water to get warm before you jump in. As the icy water stabs into your skin like so many frozen bullets, you grit your teeth. You ain't afraid of a little cold water. You a man!
And then the water jumps from freezing to scalding, and you uselessly flail your arms in pain before it settles to a nice warm temperature. Ahhh. You're going to have a huge burn mark on your chest from that, but oh well.
You grab the soap, careful not to drop it, and start scrubbing at the paint on your arms and chest. However, no matter how hard you scrub, it doesn't seem to come off. When you think you're making progress, due to the water running down the drain taking on a shade of red, you realize it's just because you've shaved off a layer of skin from cleaning so hard. Ouch. You like having your blood inside you. Where it belongs.
"Dammit," you grunt.
Suddenly, you hear the door open. Kenji moseys into the bathroom, undoing his fly as he does. He doesn't bother to lift the seat up, either, as he starts taking a piss.
He nods to you, his glasses fogged up by the steam. "'Sup, my fellow man-brother." He sighs in pleasure. "Milk is amazing, huh? Tastes good going in, feels good coming out."
You pull the curtain across the shower, deflecting the collateral piss-spray in the nick of time. "Uh... huh. Hey." You wait a minute for him to finish, then draw back the curtain. "Say Kenji, what are you doing for the fes-"
You notice that his pants are around his ankles, and he is facing away from the toilet, hands on his knees, a look of intense concentration on his face.
You quickly pull the curtain back across. "Dude, what the hell."
"Pay close attention, Steve!" barks Kenji. "In France, men piss sitting down. That is an admission to defeat, my man-brother! To the feminization of society as a whole, when the most primal of acts is controlled! This cannot be, man-brother. For a true man must piss and die on his feet."
"When was crapping on your feet added to the list?"
"Right..." Kenji makes a grunt of effort. "... Now."
... You idly wonder if you could kill Kenji and then yourself with the showerhead, but then again, it'd make for a weird scene for the investigators. Two guys, covered in s***, dead in a bathroom. Yeah, no.
"...Anyways," you say, trying to block out the sounds, "what are you doing for that festival thing?" You pause. "And my name isn't Steve. Where the hell did you hear that?"
Kenji waves a hand dismissively. "The festival? A distraction, man-brother. The Coliseum was built in Rome not as a celebration of the masculinity of bloodsport, but as a means for the emperor's concubines to control the populace! This is exactly the same! Just replace concubines with Student Council. But they're still the same..." he whispers darkly. "Whores. All of them! Will they stop at nothing for power?"
"Yeah, sure. So what are you doing for it?"
"What? Oh. Nothing. I just painting some stalls or some crap like that so the Class Rep would get off my wang." Kenji fumbles with some toilet paper and pulls up his pants. You breath a sigh of relief, only for Kenji to unzip his pants again.
"Dude, Kenji. Not while I'm here."
"What? As long as we don't make eye contact, it's not weird. Haven't you ever heard of back-to-back, Steve?"
"Kenji, just..." You sigh again. "Okay, hold on, I'll leave. Christ." You shut off the shower and hightail it out of there. You can get your running clothes later, they're probably covered in piss anyways.
You make it back to the sanitary safety of your room, where you find a towel and start drying off. Those stupid paint stains are still stuck to your skin... and they're probably toxic, too, knowing Dick. God damn it.
Oh well. You get dressed, and mull over where to go for breakfast...
A. Cafeteria. You heard a rumor that those kinds of places contain food.
B. Go into town. It's a short run, and maybe there's some cafe you can order something quick at.
C. Find a vending machine and buy a crapload of stuff from it. Breakfast of the FUTURE!
D. Break into Kenji's room and eat his pizza and drink his milk. Drink it up.
E. Order some Chinese food. If you get a fortune cookie, then maybe you can prevent bad things from happening to you today.
F. Drink a gallon from a water fountain. Boom, free breakfast. And rehydrated.
G. Make some more coffee. Coffee is one of the six food groups, so if you drink six cups, you'll be nourished for the day. According to science.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Well, what the hell. You'll go to the cafeteria. It's free, it ain't that far, and maybe you'll even find some people to talk to and somehow validate your depressingly lonely existence. Maybe. Or maybe you'll just trip on the stairs and die. Who knows what adventures the future holds?
You go down the stairs (without dying) and plod your way into the main building, hands in your pockets as you cross the courtyard. Still too cold. Stupid dewy grass, stupid mornign breeze, stupid chirpy birds. Damn them all. More and more students are starting to mill around. Jesus, people actually get up at this time by their own choice? You're usually still asleep by now.
You push open the double-doors to the cafeteria dramatically (nearly knocking out someone on the other side) and scan your surroundings...
...
Yep, it's a cafeteria. But it's always good to make sure. Just in case.
Alright. What should you get from the line?
A. One bento box. F*** tradition, you'll eat lunch in the morning if you want.
B. Miso soup. The main ingredient in soup is water, right? You need water to live.
C. Udon noodles.You're not even sure what those are. But life is an adventure!
D. Onigiri. To be precise, a huge ass plate of them. Rice is nice.
E. Some vegan stir-fry thing. Emi and Doctor Fox did mention to eat better, or death will strike...
F. Toast. It's bread, son.
What should you get to drink?
1. Coffee. Food groups, man.
2. Green tea. Fancy. Besides, you heard you need to eat or drink all the colors of the rainbow per day. In... preschool, you think.
3. Just put ice in a glass and crunch on it. Jaw exercises be important, bro.
4. Ask for two raw eggs and break them into a glass.
5. You absorb all the liquid you need from your solid food. F*** drinks.
Who do you sit with? Emi and Hisao ain't around... odd...
Alpha. NO ONE. You are a lone wolf. No one understands you! NOT EVEN YOURSELF~
Beta. You see Lilly off in the corner on her lonesome. She'd probably be good company.
Gamma. Misha and Shizune are sitting with some of the Student Council ass-kissers, talking about festival crap. Might want to talk to them and see if you can get out of class.
Delta. Hey, it's Dick Masterson, sitting with all his douchey friends. Maybe it's time to collect on that favor...
Epsilon. Go back into the kitchens and talk with the chefs, asking them how they like their jobs and stuff.
----------------------------------------------------------
A slow drip of adrenaline dilutes in your veins. Time to get on this s***. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, after all.
You saunter over to the line leading to the counter, standing there impassively, staring into space as you contemplate your options. This is it... you only have one shot. Got to make it cou-
"May I help you?"
You blink, and realize you're being served. Damn, this line moves fast. "Uh. Yeah." Dammit, you didn't have enough time to think this through! Crap! "Toast me," you utter, without a scrap of doubt in your voice. If you're going to go down in flames, you may as well go down well starched.
"And to drink?"
"Tea. Green. Hint of lemon. Little umbrella."
"And... got it." Just like that, the chef dude behind the counter hands you a tray with one piece of toast and a cup of tea, with the little mini-umbrella and everything.
"You did good," you say seriously. "You did good." You turn on your heel before the chef can respond, and run your eyes over the tables.
Well... there's Shizune and Misha and all of their ass-kissers. Nah. You can hang out with them later.
And then there's Lilly, eating off in the corner... you feel an urge to go sit with her, but even from here, you can see that she has a serious look on her face, deep in thought. You'll leave her alone for now.
But wait... at one of this middle tables, like a douchebaggy island in a sea of jackasses, sits Dick Masterson, laughing and yelling and talking with his mouth full. How crude. You almost want to leave the cafeteria just looking at him, but you have a debt to collect. Besides, you gotta make sure that he carries through.
You walk up to the table and sit down, slamming your tray to get his attention. He doesn't notice you, being too busy devouring his... ramen-covered toast. You realize he's got an earphone in the ear on your side, so you rip it out to get his attention.
"ARGH!" he howls melodramatically. He looks over to you, his eyes full of righteous fury, but then simmering once he recognizes you. "Come on, bro, easy on the ears! I use them for balance and hearing ladies scream my name and stuff. You don't want me to turn out like Shizune, do you bro?"
You stare at him intently. Well that was horribly offensive. "Oh, of course. Then you'd have to deal with Shizune even more, wouldn't you?"
He looks at you blankly. Let's try another approach.
"So, Dick. Did you finish that essay about projection in psychology yet?"
"We don't have the same... Huh? Oh. Yeah." He stretches overdramatically. "Almost killed us, didn't it. Especially with how-"
You clap a hand over his mouth, trying to ignore the gross feel of his tongue against you fingers. You turn your head slightly to the right, and notice... Shizune staring at you. It was only for a second or two, but you felt it. A shiver runs up your spine.
"Good, good," you mutter, wiping your hand off on Dick's shoulder. "So, payment. For me helping you."
Dick slaps you on the back. "Relax, bro. All in good time. I can't just go up to her and say, 'You know that new foreign guy? He has a GIGANTIC WANG!'"
An awkward silence settles over the cafeteria. Everyone is staring at you. You hide your face in your green tea, but forget about the little umbrella and end up stabbing yourself in the eye.
"F***!"
The atmosphere returns to normal.
"You want to borrow an eyepatch, man?" asks Dick nonchalantly.
"No, I don't want your Goddamn eyepatch." Your rub your bleeding eyeball gingerly. Speaking of red... "and what the hell was in that paint? It won't come off my skin!"
Dick shrugged. "I don't know. Some permanent stuff I got from the art room. But I'm sure over time your skin will absorb it and it'll go away."
"And give me cancer."
"More than likely."
You sigh and start crunching on your toast. Man, this day sucks already. Well, at least you know Dick will be good on his word. You hope.
"By the way, bro," Dick says a little more quietly, scratching at his eye-hole, "Miura really likes those strong but silent types. Like me." He bursts out laughing. Yeah, your ears hurt now. "So just play that angle, you know what I'm saying?"
The thought of Miki Miura makes you forget about your punctured eyeball for a moment. Mmmmm... yeah. She makes all this crap worth it. You dunk your toast in your tea and finish it off, twirling the bloodstained mini-umbrella absentmindedly.
The bell rings. Damn. Time flies when you're eating toast. Now what?
A. What do you mean, "now what?" Go to class, dumbass!
B. School is for the brainwashed masses, man. Go to your dorm and sleep.
C. Forget class and go hang out in town for the day.
D. Go talk to Misha and see if she has any Student Council crap that can get you out of class.
E. Somehow injure Dick so he has to go the nurse's office, then accompany him as a "friend". Perfect excuse to skip class.
---------------------------------------------------
You sigh. Well, you can't avoid class forever. You leave your plate on the collection counter and run back to the boy's dorm to get your books and crap. Should've brought them with you when you want to the cafeteria. Damn. Oh well.
You stare at Dick before you leave, hoping he gets the message. You didn't want to waste all of that delicious sleep for nothing.
-0-0-0-0-0-
The run to the boy's dorm and to Mutou's class was uneventful, thankfully. You've had enough crap going on today.
You sit down in your usual seat- at the very back of the class, two desks away from Hanako- and get out all your notes and stuff. You amuse yourself by drawing little formations of swordsmen preparing to hack and stab each other to death. It's about fifteen minutes of this paper-and-pencil Age of Empires nonsense before you look up at the clock and notice... class started ten minutes ago. You idly wonder where-
The door slams open as Mutou saunters into the classroom, not saying a word as he guzzles his coffee. His jacket is ruffled, he's unshaved as a Goddamn bear, and his tie isn't even tied, just hanging around his shoulders. He tosses his suitcase across the room, where it lands on his desk, and without further ado, starts writing out equations and graphs without even looking back, talking about theories and stuff like he was raised reciting them. What a bro.
As much as you love his random lectures about black holes and quantum theory and alternate dimensions and time travel and stuff, you feel yourself getting tired. He sort of has this... droning voice. Like the sound of a piano burning.
You scratch the back of your neck, looking at your notes boredly. You glance at Hanako out of the corner of your eye. Huh, she hasn't left yet. What do you do?
A. Take a nap. You need sleep to live.
B. Chuck a note at [insert fellow classmate here].
C. Say you need to go the bathroom and ditch class.
D. Stab yourself in the hand with your pen to stay awake. EDUCATION is IMPORTANT, Goddamn it.
E. Stare at Miki Miura and start fantasizing.
F. Raise your hand and ask a question. [Insert question here.]
G. Play games on your calculator. Sinjid: Shadow of the Warrior is pretty boss, after all.
H. Listen to music as you take notes. That'll keep you awake.
------------------------------------------------------------
Yeah. This lecture is going nowhere at about a million nothings a second. Feeling unusually brave, you spot Miki Miura in the front row. You watch, entranced, as she yawns soundlessly, arching her back and shaking her hair. Oh man. Now you're all hot and bothered and adrenaline-filled.
Feeling unusually brave, you carefully tear out a page of your notebook and, biting your lip in concentration, scrawl a little picture of Mutou's face on it, with "SCIENCE!" written across his forehead.
http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5152/5899 ... d7d7_b.jpg
Underneath it, you write, "I never asked for this."
Chucking it at Miki would be too obvious, as she's in the front and you're in the back. Instead, you fold it into a dodecahedron and bowl it under her desk, where it bumps her ankle. She notices, picks it up and unfolds it... and suddenly gives a small cough which she quickly covers with her hand.
She looks around the room for a second, trying to find the sender. Her eyes lock onto yours, and you arch an eyebrow.
She turns back to her desk and writes out her own note before bowling it back to you.
"Thanks. Not like I was planning on sleeping tonight, or anything." Below, there's a crude sketch of Miki in her bed with Mutou's face peeking from under it.
http://farm5.staticflickr.com/4132/5102 ... 690f_b.jpg
You shiver. That makes two poor, sleepless souls. Under the sketch she wrote, "Are you getting any of this?"
You write back, "Something about black holes and wormholes and penetrating spacetime. Very Freudian. I think he was hit by a meteor as a child." You sketch a caricature of a pantless Mutou humping a black hole. You're not sure how that works... but somehow it does. You bowl it back to Miki.
She covers up her laughter with another cough, but some other students are looking at you now. Hisao shoots you a "bro this is about subatomic particles, and you're made of Goddamn subatomic particles" kind of look. Oh, Hisao. You and your science.
The note is bowled back. "No more horrific imagery. I've had enough mental scarring for one day."
Bowled to Miki. "I'll make you a deal. What're you doing for lunch? I want to see what's in town."
Back to you. "Lunch break isn't much time to see an entire town, you know. (O_o;)"
Back to Miki. "Says the star of the track team. We'll run. Come on. Humor the new guy. \(-_-)/"
Back to you. "You're a persistent one. Alright, alright. You win. But you pay."
Back to Miki. "Fair enough."
You're surprised that a note-conversation that long went unnoticed by Mutou. Sweet. Unfortunately... not everyone failed to notice. Shizune is drilling holes into your head with that death glare of hers. S***.
The bell rings, thank God, and you spring out of your seat like a kangaroo. Miki gives you a grin and a wave, and your heart a-pounding, you go to meet her... only to be intercepted by Shizune and Misha. F***.
"Not so fast, Foreign-Exchange-Student-chan~!" pipes Misha, grinning victoriously. "You may be new here, but even in America, I'm sure they have rules about passing notes in class!" Her voice is cheery as usual, but Shizune is signing like she wants to wring your neck. "But, this won't be brought to Mr. Mutou's attention if you work with us over lunch..." There's a glint of something in Shizune's eye. The gleam of a killer.
Miki is at the door, waiting expectantly. What do?
A. F*** it. Run out the door with Miki.
B. Tell Misha and Shizune you'll make up for it later.
C. Tell Shizune that Miki is showing you the town, and you don't have time for this right now.
D. Apologize. Japanese style. With the headbang and everything.
E. Surrender and go with them. Goddamn Student Council.
F. "Hisao! Save me!"
G. Tell Misha you're on a date. She'll understand.
H. You're not even from America. Racist.
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Time slows down for a moment. You don't have time to think this through. You see Hisao in the corner of your eye, leaning against his desk and watching the show with mild amusement. Damn you, Hisao. Damn you and your stupid hair and sweatervests and-
You lean forward slightly. "Misha, Shizune," you say with a calmness you don't feel, "I'm not even American. I know I look American. I know my Japanese isn't very good. I know that there's a comical stereotype of the ignorant, uncultured cowboy coming over to Japan on his horse, but that's not me. Okay?" You take a deep breath. "You're not making this easy for me, much less with the culture shock."
Misha automatically looks stricken, and clasps her hands together. "Transfer-chan..."
But Shizune is unfazed. She continues to sign. She's good.
"Misunderstandings aside," translate Misha, "you should-"
"Misunderstandings? Your my class rep, and the student council prez. It's within your station to have at least simple details like this hammered out, don't you think?"
She keeps her cool, but there's that gleam in her eyes again. Her lips tugging upward slightly. She accepts your challenge. "I cannot read your personal file without your express written consent," Misha translates.
S***. That's right. "Even so," you say, trying to keep your roll going, "another duty of the class rep is to see that new students are acclimated to their environment. And Miki is about to take me on a tour of the town. So, by extension, you're giving me a tour- and fulfilling your duty. I love it when things work out, don't you?"
"That doesn't erase your past crimes." Goddamn she doesn't flinch.
You shrug. "True. But it doesn't erase your past failures to give me a proper tour. So, I'll help you out in the council room later. I'd say that makes us even, right?"
Shizune's eyes are like glass balls of fire, man, and she's signing like a sushi chef chopping up fish. She's pissed. If there's one thing she hates more than losing, it's compromise. "Very well," translates Misha. Who grins at you. "Go on, don't leave your date waiting!" Yeah, that came from Misha. Definitely not Shizune.
You're taking some sign language classes here, so for extra cool points you sign "Until next time" to Shizune as you walk out the door with Miki. The class rep's little smile is still there, though. That predatory smile. You're gonna have to watch your ass around her.
You don't want to let Shizune catch you idling out in the hall, so you and Miki burst through the front doors of the school and start jogging toward the gate. She laughs. "That was pretty good. I thought she was going to have you in chains by the end of it."
"This old dog still has some tricks left in him." As you jog, you find your eyes magnetized to Miki's shirt. She wears the boy's uniform shirt for some reason, and despite that she's clearly wearing a sports bra under it, they bounce, man. They bounce. Bounce bounce bounce-
Hey, wait. You're still carrying your books and bag and crap. "Where should we-"
As if on cue, Miki chucks her bag into a nearby bush. You look at her with an incredulous grin. "Seriously?"
"Sure you don't come from the Wild West? You don't have to worry about someone stealing your pencils or paper clips. Hell, you leave money lying around and it'll show up at the lost and found."
You chuck your stuff into the bush as well. Eh, she's got a point. This place seems pretty friendly. "Point taken." The two of you exit the gate and accelerate your jog into an easy run as you descend the mountain into town. Despite it being spring, it's pretty damn warm out, and there's a sheen of sweat on your forehead once you hit the town. Doesn't really help that it's humid as all hell, too. Stupid Japan.
At the bottom of the mountain, you look around. Looks... just like any sleepy Japanese outskirt, really. A lot of trees, not many cars on the road, most walls are hand-made of stone, sidewalks are cobbled. Nice place. Too many old people, though. Goddamn vampires.
"All right, tour girl. Where are we-" You turn around, and see that Miki is already fifty feet in another direction. "Hey, the hell?"
"We've got a time limit, remember?" she calls out from over her shoulder. Ha. You speed up and match pace with her, listening intently as she points out the local places of interest. Which are few, and not very interesting. At all. But the trees flank every road, casting the place in dappled shadow, and this is nice. Running alongside Miki, for the first time in a long time, you feel... calm. It's a weird feeling. Like getting a boner at a funeral.
Finally, after lapping the hamlet, the two of you stop in a small park. You put your hands on your knees and catch your breath, but Miki is just standing there, looking around, seeing if there's anything else to show you. You can't help but glance at her left hand- or, what's left of it. As she ran, the bandages around it began to loosen, and you can almost see the skin underneath. Almost-
"Hey."
You look up. She's looking down at your thoughtfully. "We've got ten minutes to kill. You up for a drink?"
You nod, on second thought wondering if she meant to go get hammered on sake in some alley, but she pulls at your wrist and eventually leads you to a little cafe tucked away in a corner. Huh. The sign says "Shanghai". But we're in Japan. The hell, man.
Miki waltzes in, a little bell dinging as she does. She doesn't bother to wait to be seated, and just slides into one of the side booths, throwing a menu at you like a shuriken. You catch it deftly and follow her lead.
Looking over the top of the menu you see the waitress shows up, bowing profusely. She seems kind of familiar... but as Miki orders, you realize you don't know what to talk about with her. Your heart rate picks up. Crap.
The waitress turns to you, notepad in hand...
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To be continued.
