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Love and Literature

Summary:

After being persuaded by his childhood friend Sayori, a boy named Kazuma Odaka begrudgingly joins the Doki Doki Literature Club. Over tea and books, he finds himself falling in love with a certain pink-haired, manga-loving, cupcake-baking girl named Natsuki. It's a match made in heaven, but the devil looms in the distance. Can he write the way into her heart?

Chapter 1: All This For A Cupcake?

Chapter Text

ACT ONE

SUNRISE

The piercing chirps of my alarm clock greet me to a rude (but routine) awakening. Groggily, I run my hands across my nightstand in search of my clock, finally grasping the plastic device. I squint through the darkness as I try to read the time.

7:01am. Monday.

I sigh, and toss my blankets aside as I prop myself up on my bed. I get up and start to stretch, gazing out the window of my bedroom. Sunrise begins to break through the gloomy clouds, washing away evidence of last night's rainstorm. I open my drawer and dig for my phone, the harsh glare almost blinding my frail eyes. I scroll through the notifications that built up overnight. Boring news reports, some kinda funny memes, same old same old...nothing terribly interesting.

I tap away to my music playlist, pulling up my select favorites. Soon a sweet but somber piano cover fills my ears as I walk into my small bathroom. I start to undress as I begin fiddling with the nozzles, turning them to just the right temperature. As I squirt a dollop of soap into my hair and begin to scrub, I take a moment to let the soothing hot water rush over me as I try to gain my thoughts for the day ahead.

Assuming she wakes up on time, I'll probably walk to school with Sayori, my bright-spirited, happy-go-lucky friend since our primary years. We've been relatively distant since the semester started, but in recent weeks we've been walking to school together just about every day in the mornings. She'll probably bug me again about joining a club (despite my repeated objections to the otherwise). Call me anti-social, but I cherish the little free time I have after school (which I admittedly use more for leisure instead off doing my schoolwork) and no club has ever felt important enough to me to give those couple of hours to myself up.

Plus, I know when Sayori tells me she wants to see me join a club, it's because she wants me to join her club, the 'Doki Doki Literature Club' (she didn't come up with the name). From what she's told me (other than that she's adopted the title of 'Vice-President'), she only has three other members excluding herself, and they've been struggling for a while to find new members (I wonder why that could be?)) Bless her sweet yet oblivious heart, but pouring out my feelings onto a piece of paper isn't exactly my forte. I especially don't want to make a fool of myself when my work doesn't hold up to others (work I'm not getting a credit for, nonetheless!).

I finish up with my shower and step out, a fluffy towel wrapped around my waist. I reach for another towel and begin to dry my damp black hair. I toss the towel aside as I dig into my closet for my pressed school uniform (a brown blazer, deep orange vest, white shirt and a red tie with blue jeans to match.) I grab my comb and start to style my hair, while also grabbing a toothbrush with my free hand. Compared to other schools, it's a pretty stylish look. I feel bad for those American students who have to wear just a polo and pants, how boring...

I rinse my mouth and head out the door, taking a final look in the mirror (handsome as ever, I jokingly say to myself). Almost tiptoeing, I quietly step downstairs as to not wake my parents. They work late in the day and don't come home till early 'am the next day, so these early hours are really the only time they have to sleep. I creep into the kitchen and look in the fridge for a quick snack before I leave.

Eggs? Too complex. Cereal? Cant stay for long. Smoothie? Too loud...aha! My eyes focus on a chocolate chip Rice Krispie bar. I grab the snack and slip it into my pocket. I head for the door and start making my way to the front gate. I glance down at my phone. 7:40. School starts at 8:45. A brisk 10 minute walk to the campus, then maybe finding a place to sit and hop back into this new manga I started reading. It was slow going at first, but now it seems things are finally about to pick u-

"Hi, Kazuma!"

"Gah!"

I almost fall flat on my butt, but I grab the fence for support. Standing in front of me is Sayori, her genuine smile beaming at me. She giggles at my clumsiness, not offering to help me up. Not because she was being rude, but Sayori hasn't been one to pick up on social customs. I lurch forward and dust myself off. "Jeez, Sayori. Trying to give me a heart attack?"

She laughs. "Ehehe, don't be so dramatic, Kazuma! I'm sure those mangas you love give you far worse scares then I could." I roll my eyes and start walking towards the campus, Sayori right beside me.

"So how was your weekend, 'zuma?" I laugh a little. That dumb nickname she gave me when we were kids (all because she misheard my name on the attendance roster) has still stuck, all these years later.

"Oh, y'know. Usual stuff. Finished up some classwork, tried to start reading a new manga. Pretty dull. Yours?"

She pauses for a moment, carefully thinking of her choice of words.

"Eheh, just at home. You know how lazy I am." She says with a laugh. I nod in acknowledgement.

A car speeds by, and splashes up a large puddle on the road. Instinctively, I push myself and Sayori out of the way. The water splashes onto the sidewalk, leaving a dark streak on the pavement.

"You okay?" I say to Sayori. Sayori tries to say something, but her voice gets tangled in her throat. Her cheeks are blushing hard.

Confused, I glance down. My hands were sorta wrapped around her shoulders, but they were also a bit close to her...

I immediately pull away. "Sorry." I mutter. "Sorry."

Red still on her cheeks, she mutters out a quiet "I-its okay..." An awkward silence lingers for about a minute. Trying to break this awkward tension I unintentionally created,. I dig into my pocket and find the Rice Krispie bar. "So, um...you hungry? I got you a present." She turns to me and looks at the bar. A smile breaks on her face, her entire demeanor before changed. "Oooh! Gimme gimme gimme!" She says, trying to reach the bar I teasingly hold out of her reach. She playfully pounds my chest. "Meanie!"

"Okay! Here." I hand the bar to her, and in seconds she has it open and a chunk of it in her mouth.

"Itsch sho' good!", She says through a full mouth, swallowing her bite. "Thank you, Kazuma."

I shrug. "Well, friends have to look out for friends. Don't mention it." When I say this, Sayoris face kind of contorts into some unusual emotion I cant place. She nods, and continues eating the breakfast bar.

As we approach the school, the influx of students grows greater, the sounds of indistinct chatting getting louder. Seeing all the couples holding hands and walking together makes me feel slightly awkward, what with someone like Sayori at my side. We walk through the gates of the school, an expansive campus complete with its own koi pond and fully staffed cafe. I stroll through the halls of the school, passing by the endless doors of classrooms and eventually reach the entrance to the cafeteria. Sayori still trails behind me.

"So, have you thought about joining any clubs yet?" Sayori quips, tossing her wrapper in a trash bin. I ponder my response for a moment. "Well...I was thinking about joining the anime club, but I wasn't really sure." I say, a hint of unenthusiasm in my voice. Of course, I didn't really have any interest in joining. If an anime club is anything like how bad certain fan communities can get, then that is something I want no part in.

"Kazuma, you can't be serious! Don't you watch enough of that at home? Wouldn't you want to join a club that, y'know, expands your horizons? Makes you think a little?"

"Don't I think enough at school, Sayori?" I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I push through the doors into the cafe, where dozens of kids are scattered about the tables, eating their breakfast. I stroll to a row of vending machines and pull out my billfold.

"Not like that! But in a good way! Thinking without restriction. No grades or anything, just thinking for fun!"

Peering through the display filled with colorfully-packaged drinks and snacks, I eye my usual morning drink, a chilled coffee. I push a button and the machine gives a soft electric whir as it dispenses my beverage.

"You know, this club kinda sounds familiar." I respond. Sayori perks up. "Really?" I grab my drink from it's holder and start to open it. "Yeah, and I think I know someone who's in it, too. She's the vice president, I think?" A sly smile escapes my lips. Sayori gives me a look.

"Ooohkay, fine! You know me too well. It's the Literature Club."

"Sayori-"

Without warning, Sayori grabs me by my blazer and shakes me, almost making me spill my drink.

"Oh, plllleeeeassse Kazuma? Can you at least consider joining it? We're really desperate for another member, and we want at least one new person in our club before the festival next week! " Sayori says, a trace of desperation in her voice.

I remember in primary school when Sayori would finish her cookie that she had at lunch time, then she would use that same voice to ask me over and over for my cookie until I just got annoyed and gave it to her. Well, her begging won't work this time. I pull my poker face. "Give me one good reason." She grins. "Actually, I can give you two! For one, one of our members baked a tray of cupcakes for our meeting today! They are some of the best I've ever tasted, you have to stop by for at least one!"

I think about it for a moment. I do have a sweet tooth and Sayori knows it, playing into my weaknesses like a lion does an injured antelope. Plus, Sayori knows a thing or two about good food, since she's constantly hungry. I guess one bite couldn't hurt...

My mind snaps back to reality. "And the other reason?"

"Oh, umm..." She does this cute tick she has where she taps both of her index fingers together. "I may have told our club leader I would get us a new club member by today?" She laughs awkwardly.

Hearing this, I almost choke on my coffee. "Sayori!" I say, exasperated. "Don't make promises you don't know if you can keep!"

She waves it off. "I don't need to sorry about that, because you are at least gonna stop by for a cupcake, riiiiight?" She says, leaning in slightly.

I think about my usual routine after school. Walk home, unwind, take a shower, then do nothing except read manga and do some classwork. About as exciting of a day as wet cardboard, so it's not like I have any other commitments that would stop me from going. Pllus, it'll make Sayori happy. And how can I say no to a face like that?

"Alright, Sayori. I'll go, as long as you meet me after final bell at my class to take me to where it iis."

Sayoris face lights up like a Christmas tree. "Really?! Ohhh, thankyouthankyouthankyou!" She squeals, wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug. I can't help but blush, darting my eyes around. Nobody seemed to notice.

The bell rings, signifying the start of first period. I say goodbye to Sayori, who happily strolls off in the opposite direction. I walk back outside and take another sip of my drink, the smells of the morning dew flooding my nostrils. My thoughts linger back to Sayori and the Literature Club. Would I really be happy spending upwards of an hour after school at a writing club? I mean, at least it might help me improve my writing skills, and in turn help my grade in class.

'And I'm doing this all for a cupcake', I think with a laugh.

I mingle with the crowd of students, trying to reach my class. I move with the crowd and head inside the main building, walking up the stairs to the second floor. I let out a long, quiet sigh. Another boring day awaits. I don't share any classes with Sayori, which are mostly filled with a bunch of random students with a few other boys that fit the title of 'acquaintance' rather than 'friend'. Maybe joining Sayoris club will give me a group of people I can actually consider my friends, literature fans or not.

Or, perhaps, something more?

I guzzle the remainder of my drink and toss the can into a recycling bin, checking my phone one last time before turning it off (phone usage in class is strictly forbidden and getting caught results in having it confiscated and a hefty fine to go with it). I hastily shove my phone into my bag.

Sigh. Calculus. My favorite.

I step inside the class.

Chapter 2: Welcome to the Literature Club!

Chapter Text

As soon as the final bell rang, the class became abuzz with activity, student and teacher unanimously eager to go home. I stood up and started gathering my papers together, hastily shoving them into my bag. As much as I wanted to make Sayori happy, I felt a certain uneasiness about going to this meeting. What if I don't fit in with these people? What if they end up hating me and I'm stuck there awkwardly trying to make conversation for an hour? Maybe I should just pretend my mom needed me home or something...

I ultimately snapped out of my selfishness and decided that, if I could call myself Sayoris friend, I would go, regardless of how bad it turned out. For her sake, at least.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed for the door. Trying not to get swept into the crowd of people trying to leave, I lingered by a nearby restroom (it looked a little odd but I was clear of the swarm of people). I tried to find Sayori throigh the tsunami of students but saw no sign of her. I pulled out my phone; maybe she texted me? Nada, no new messages. 'She's probably stuck in a crowd in another part of the school or something', I thought. Might as well wait around for a bit before I decide to leave.

Soon, the crowd thinned out to a handful of students. I clicked my phone off and looked around the hall. My eyes drifted to a dull green poster-board, with various flyers and sheets tacked onto it. I walked over to the board and read a few of them. It was what you'd expect to find on a high school bulletin board; school announcements (most of them talking about the festival next week), the lunch menu for this week (the fish soup they served today was amazing), advertisements for various clubs. I saw a sheet for the anime club, which said it was having a meeting later today. Maybe if Sayori doesn't show, I'll try to pop in on that...

A flyer caught my eye.

"Doki Doki Literature Club Seeks Members!"

I read the summary.

'Love reading? Enjoy expanding your mind? Want to just relax with a good book? Then consider joining the Literature Club, with meetings every day after school from 4-5pm. We would love to see you there!' Various stickers of chibi cats and books doted the colorful paper, masked with a few red ribbons. It was very...cute.

My eyes glanced down to the sign-up sheet. It disheartened me to find that there wasn't a single name scrawled on the paper. 'So they really are trying to find new members.', I thought to myself. I suddenly felt bad for thinking about skipping on this meeting. How selfish could I be? Imagine how sad Sayori would be if I just up and left, and having to tell her club friends she couldn't get a member after all. I shook my head clear of those dark thoughts.

At the very bottom was a roster of the current group members, which read:

President: Monika S.

Vice-President: Sayori A.

Member: Yuri K.

Member: Natsuki T.

Hm. Guess I'll be meeting those two later. I didn't recognize the other two, but the name Monika did sound familiar...

I heard a rapid taptaptaptap of footsteps and turned to see Sayori practically barreling at me. She came just a few feet short of colliding with me before she almost collapsed at my feet. She put her hands on her knees and tried to catch her breath between ragged gasps. The scene was both concerning and somewhat hilarious.

"You alright? Need some water?" I started reaching into my bag, digging for the small water jug I usually keep in my bag.

Sayori stuck her arm, grasping her hand out like a toy claw machine. She swung her head up and practically chugged the bottle 'till it was dry. "Thank...you…'zuma…" she managed to say in between pants.

"Did you run here? What class did you come out of?" I said.

She regained her posture, her breaths now cleaner. "Art. With the new teacher, Mr. Tagomi." My brain draws up the campus map...from here, that class is practically on the other side of the school.

"You didn't have to sprint here, I was going to wait for you anyway." I say, taking my empty water jug back.

"I know, but I couldn't help it! I'm just super excited! I can't wait for you to meet everyone! They're really great people, your going to love them!" She says, her voice sparkling with enthusiasm.

Sayori led me down the hallway, passing by rows of closed doors. We walked outside and crossed the foyer, passing by the koi pond. Soon we were in an adjacent building, where she led me up a flight of stairs. 'The seniors building', I thought to myself. Normally I have no business being here, but I guess I do now.

Sayori guides me past more classrooms until she stops at one, the door slightly open. On the doorknob was a makeshift sign that said 'DDLC' in red marker, a heart drawn next to it. Sayori turned to me.

"Ready?"

I shrug.

Full of energy, Sayori swings open the classroom door. Before it slams into the wall, I hastily grab the knob, stopping it from full momentum.

"Everyone! Say hi to our new member!" Sayori practically shouts. I open my mouth to say something, but first I take a moment to look around the classroom.

The class is clearly used by a teacher during the school day, as shown by the papers and posters strewn about on the walls and tables. A row of long windows faces down towards the koi pond, midday sun streaming in through the windows. Uniform wood desks run down in rows, with shelves stocked with books and folders behind them. In the far right corner, it seems there's a walk-in closet (probably with supplies inside).

Sitting at the teacher's desk, a girl with flowing brown hair (and a white ribbon to match) looks at Sayori and I and gives me a genuine smile. She shuts her silver laptop and gets up to greet me. "Hello! My name is Monika. Welcome to the Literature Club. It's a pleasure to meet you." She extends out a hand, which I gingerly shake. "Kazuma. Likewise." is all I can manage to say.

"Say, I think I've seen you before. Didn't you have physics with Dr. Serizawa?" She gives me a thoughtful look, trying to place me.

Suddenly, it clicks in my head. "Oh yes! I remember you as well. You won the experimental trebuchet project at the end of last year. Feel bad for the janitors who had to clean up all those eggs, though." We both share a laugh. Monika looks past me. "Yuri! Come say hi to our new member!"

This Monika is in this club? One of the most popular and smartest girls at this campus? Monika, from what I've heard about her, is practically a model student, with great marks and an important figure in a bunch of groups and clubs. It's no wonder she's the president of this one, but I didn't expect her to be apart of this sort of group.

Looking up from her book (an unusually decorated one, I might add), a mature-figured, tall girl with steel black glasses and faded violet hair greets me. "Oh, um...greetings. M-my name is Yuri. You must be the boy Sayori always talks about." Her voice, as smooth as lavender, puts me at ease.

"Nice to meet you, Yuri." I say, but my mind lingers on that comment. 'Always talks about?' How many times has my name come up in this club before? I look at Sayori, but she seemingly wasn't paying attention or just didn't hear Yuri's comment.

"And last but not least we have…wait, where is she?" Monika glances around the class, puzzled. "I could've sworn I just saw her." She raises her voice. "Natsuki! Where are you?"

"Over here!" I hear a girls voice yell from the closet. I hear books being shoved around on shelves before a girl steps out from the room.

Woah.

Natsuki, as Monika called her, is a short girl (maybe around 5'5 compared to my 5'10), with pink hair and eyes to match it. Red ribbons are tied in her hair, and a red hair clip rests on one of her bangs. On her collar I can see a pin of a little chibi cat (just like the ones on the poster). She dusts herself off (I wonder what she was doing back there?) and walks over to us.

'She's so cute…' I can't help but think.

She stands next to Yuri (a considerable size difference between the two) and looks me up and down. She turns to Sayori. "You brought a boy, Sayori? Way to kill the mood." She folds her arms on her chest. Sayori laughs. "Oh, don't be so mean to 'zuma, Natsuki! He's really excited about becoming a new member, so show him at least a little politeness! Besides, you did bake cupcakes for him, soo…"

Natsuki stammers. "N-no I didn't! All I did was bake cupcakes for a new member, not him!"

I pipe up, "But I am the new member, so technically you did bake them for me."

Natsuki gives me a look. Oh boy, now I'm on her bad side apparently. I haven't been here for more than five minutes and I've already made an enemy. What's next?

Trying to move things along, Monika claps her hands together. "How about we all take a seat? Natsuki, you can get your cupcakes out now." At this, Natsuki smiles and walks towards the teachers desk, where a small mini fridge sits next to it.

Five desks have been arranged to form a makeshift table, with one being stuck out in front as the 'head chair'. Monika sits down at the head one as Sayori and I sit next to each other.

"How about I prepare some tea?" Yuri asks.

"Good idea!" Sayori responds. Yuri nods and walks to the closet. I hear shuffling followed by the sound of a faucet turning on. From across the class, I can see Natsuki fidgeting with a plate, adjusting the foil ever so slightly. When she has it just right, she carefully picks it up and walks to our table, placing it in the middle of our 'table. She takes the seat closest to Monika.

Yuri returns to the table, a tray in her hand. I can't help but gaze at the intricate designs etched on the plattery, reminiscent of early Japanese geometric art. It looks beautiful, and rather expensive. Gently, Yuri places the tray next to Natsuki's plate.A small, steaming pot with five teacups rests on the tray. Carefully, Yuri places a teacup with a dish in front of us, and pours tea. The smell wanders into my nostrils, a faintly fruity smell like wild berries. Reminds me of oolong tea, a favorite of my mother when she gets migraines.

"Ready?" Natsuki asks us. Like a magicians cape, she lifts away the foil.

Sayoris jaw drops a little. "Uwooooah!"

Resting on the plate are eight white, neatly-arranged, fluffy cupcakes decorated to look like little cats. Icing was used to draw the whiskers, and little pieces of chocolate were used to make the ears. They were very adorable, and looked delicious.

"Natsuki, these look amazing!" Monika says. Natsuki gives a bright smile, enjoying the praise. "Well, when I'm the one baking them, you know that it's gonna be good!" Yuri laughs quietly, and Natsuki glances at her.

"Soooo cuuuuute!" Sayori squeals, and eagerly reaches out to grab one. Natsuki quickly slaps away her hand. "Don't just grab them! I'll serve them. "Owwww…meanie!" Sayori whimpers, gingerly rubbing her 'bruised' hand. I chuckle. Natsuki sure is a feisty one.

I grab the cupcake and slowly turn it around in my fingers, looking at the craftsmanship. It looks professionally made but has a certain 'homely' vibe you only get from home baked goods. Clearly a lot of love went into creating these. It's almost a crime to eat it...

Out of the corner of my eye, I can feel Natsuki looking at me. Is she waiting for me to take a bite? To see my reaction? I pull down part of the wrapper and take a hearty bite. The flavors dance in my mouth like a fiesta, chocolate swirling with vanilla. It takes all I can muster not to just shove the sweet treat into my mouth.

I turn to her. "Natsuki, this has to be one of the best cupcakes I've ever tasted. Thank you for making these."

Natsuki's cheeks blush, and she turns away. "Th-thank you. That m-means a lot." I smile warmly. Perhaps I still have a chance to be friend with her after all.

Monika looks at me. "So Kazuma, what made you want to join the Literature Club?"

'Shit', I think to myself. I should have been prepared for this answer, and something tells me I shouldn't tell Monika I'm only here mostly because I was practically dragged here by Sayori.

I regain my composure. "W-well, I haven't joined any clubs yet, and Sayori always seems really happy here, so I figured…"

Monika smiles. "No need to be embarrassed! As president of this club, it is my top priority to make sure you feel right at home with us."

I take a sip of my tea. "So your the President of this club, I see. What about all your other clubs? How are you making time for them?"

She gives a light laugh. "Well, to be honest, I started to grow tired of all the politics and drama that comes with clubs of that variety. Clubs fulled with people more interested in flaunting their own egos and pushing their authority. So I resigned from my posts and opted to make a club based on something I've always had a love and respect for. And if other people join it, that makes it all the worthwhile!"

"Monika is a great leader!" Sayori chimes in. Yuri and Natsuki nod in agreement.

"That's wonderful." I take another sip of my tea, my thoughts lingering back to the flyer and the empty sign-up sheet. "I'm surprised that there aren't more people than just us. It must be difficult to start a new club, even with the support of your peers."

Monika nods. "Many people can have a great idea, but they don't lack the drive to see that idea realized. It can be a challenge to lure in new members and convince them that we are both fun and worthwhile, especially when it comes to something like literature, which people associate with school and, in turn, boredom."

Sayori adds in, "Which is why we've been working really hard on our event planned for the festival next week. We're trying to make out showcase really stand out for the rest of the school."

Monika nods. "Each of us is doing something that fits our defining interests for the event. For example, Yuri will be making decorations and working on the theme for the event, while Natsuki will be making snacks to offer to guests. I'm not sure what the other clubs have planned, but whatever they do, I'm certain that ours will be one to remember!"

She sets her teacup down into its dish. "But even if nobody decides to join, I would be more than happy with just us five together. It would be their loss, anyway.", she says with a laugh.

I share the laugh, taking another bite of my cupcake. This, combined with the tea, go really well together. I could get used to this.

A brief silence.

"May I ask, Kazuma, what do you enjoy reading?" Yuri says, who has mostly been silent until now.

I try to think of a response. I can't just say I almost only read manga, can I? Unless I want them to think I'm some sort of social outcast or something. I'll just try downplaying it…

"Well, I mostly read books that focus on science fiction and adventure, but if I want to be honest I tend be more engaged with manga than anything else."

Natsuki's face perks up. It looks like she wants to say something, but if she did she doesn't. She takes another bite of her cupcake.

Yuri seems indifferent. "I see. I can't say that I read much manga, but I do respect the ability to convey a story almost solely through visual arts. It takes a talented writer to master that level of storytelling."

"What do you like to read, Yuri?" I ask, intrigued.

She's silent for a moment. "Let's see…" She tracers her finger around the curve of her teacup. "The stories I enjoy the most are the ones which build deep and complex fantasy worlds, world's with an intricate level of detail and thought put behind them. I admire the ability to craft a world unfamiliar to the reader that one can simply get lost in."

She goes on, clearly passionate about her favorite genres. "I also have a deep interest in psychological elements, with an emphasis on horror or shock. How writers can twist and convey the readers thoughts into their own image for a more personalized reaction has always interested me, what with the different styles possible. I'm currently in between reading two books that play into this element well. If you are interested, I could introduce you to them."

"Oh, I'd love to." I say, not even thinking about what I'm saying.

"I hate horror, or anything scary." Natsuki half says, half mutters. "I try to write about happier thing." She slowly spins her teacup disc around with her index finger.

"You write, Natsuki? Thats awesome. I'd love to read one of your poems someday." I say, genuine enthusiasm in my voice.

Natsuki blushes again, trips over her words. "Y-you wouldn't like them. What I write is, what I'm told at least, is too…"

Monika cuts her off. "Cute?"

Natsuki goes beet red. "D-Don't say t-that!"

Monika giggles. "Awww, but in a good way! It's both simple and complex. You should be proud of your writing. It's unique."

Natsuki shakes her head, as if a fly is buzzing at her face. "It's not that they're 'cute'", she says, doing a quotation mark gesture with her hands. "It's just...I'm not confident in how I write."

"Oh, I understand."

Yuri nods. "Often for both experienced and amateaur writers it can be difficult to open up your emotions and thoughts to your audience. When you write, your aren't just writing for a crowd, you're also writing for yourself. It's okay to not want to share sometimes."

"Do you have experience with sharing your work, Yuri?" Monika adds. "I think Natsuki would benefit from it if you two traded your writing for peer review one day." Sayori and I nod in agreement.

Yuri seems displeased at the idea, but she goes along with it anyway. Sayori looks at her and Natsuki. "I'd love to read your poems if you ever felt confident enough to share them with us!".

Monika is silent for a moment, but then speaks up. "I have an idea, everyone!" Yuri and Natsuki look at Monika with a glaze of uncertainty. "How's about we all write poems for each other to read and review! I feel that it would be a great way to learn everyone's styles of writing and help us become more confident in sharing our work with others, as well as improving our styles."

She turns to Sayori (who's now on her third cupcake) for agreement. "Mmph? Yeah! A good icebreaker!" She muffles, cupcake in her mouth.

My voice chokes. "That sounds like a great idea, but there's just a slight hiccup." I pause. "I...wasn't really sure if I wanted to join the club. I was looking at a few others that would take…" my voice trails off, as does my point. Soon all four girls are looking at me, a dose of sadness in their eyes.

"B-but…" Monika says.

"I'm sorry, I just thought…" Yuri says.

Natsuki looks away from me, rejected.

"Oh, Kazuma…" Sayori says.

I run a hand through my hair. 'God damnit.', I think to myself. I'm completely defenseless against these girls. How can I make a clear-headed decision when I'm in a situation like this?

Well, if writing the poems is the price I have to pay to spend time with them…

I clear my throat. "Okay, I've decided it. I'm joining the Literature Club." One by one, the girls eyes lights up. Sayori squeals. "Ohhhh Kazumaaa! I'm so happy! Ahahaaaa!" Through the desks she embraces me, almost making me knock over my teacup.

Monika lifts her teacup, as do the other girls. "Then it's official! Welcome to the Literature Club, Kazuma!". Everyone clinks their glasses together and takes a drink. After Sayori let's me go, I do the same.

Monika glances at her watch and claps her hands together. "Okay, everyone! I think we can end today on a good note. You all can leave now, but don't forget to write and bring your poems for tomorrow's meeting!"

Monika turns to me. "Kazuma, I look forward to seeing how you can express yourself." She says with a slight giggle. I smile. "Likewise, Monika."

Yuri begins to put away the tea set while Natsuki and Monika place the desks back in order. Feeling unhelpful, I try to help Natsuki rearrange the desks back. "Don't worry, I got it." I say, my hand brushing up against hers. She blushes, and pulls her hand away. "Thanks Hercules, but I think I got it." She snarks, pushing the desk back into order.

Sayori appears next to me. "Hey Kazuma? Since we're already here, did you want to walk back home with me? Like old times?" She says in a hopeful tone.

That's right. With Sayori being occupied by the club, we never went home at the same time. Now there's no reason not to. "Sure. Let's go." She grins and turns to the door. "Bye guys!" She calls behind her back. The other three say their goodbyes as I head out the door.

"Sooo? What did you think about the club?"

We've just left the campus and were walking back home. What's convenient is that Sayori and I live only a few blocks away from each other, so we don't need to worry about splitting up. She walks backwards in front of me, eager to see my reaction.

"I think she's very cute. Certainly looks like a lot of fun."

Sayori face turns to confusion. She stammers. "H-huh?"

Holy shit. What did I just say?

My thoughts scramble like eggs. God damnit, speak!

"I...I said, the club looks cute, like it's very close-knit. It looks like a lot of fun."

Sayoris face repeats that odd emotion from this morning again, once again confusing me. What face is that supposed to represent? I really can't place it. Is it sadness? Fear? Resentment? Or just confusion? I have no clue.

We walk in silence for a moment. About a block away, I can see the rooflines of her complex. "So, your gonna go to tomorrow's meeting, right?" She says, some uneasiness in her voice. At least, I think it's uneasiness.

I nod yes. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Just making sure, 'zuma." She gives me a half-hearted smile.

We reach the gates to her home. I wave goodbye then start the walk home. My mind lingers back to the club. Monika, Yuri, Natsuki and of course, Sayori. Four interesting and diverse girls who all share a love for literature. Would I really be happy spending an hour after school every day with them? I think so. I mean, I think I made a good first impression on them (or, at least, I hope so). They seemed to like me, as I did back.

Plus, staying in the club means getting the chance to know Natsuki better, among everyone else.

I unlock the door to my house and step inside. As usual, my parents have already gone to work, lights off in the apartment. I check the stove and a pot of soba sat, still warm to the touch. I grab a bowl and spoon and empty most of the pots contents into it. I snatch a soda pop from the fridge and take my stuff upstairs to my room.

Placing the bowl and drink down on my desk, I dig in my drawer for a fresh sheet of line paper and a pen. I put it in front of me and stare at the blank paper.

Shit.

Now comes the hard part.

What do I write?

Chapter 3: Poem Panic

Chapter Text

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

My eyes watched the plastic clock hanging above the whiteboard, following the hands as they slowly went full circle. I unhappily tapped my pencil on my paper, growing bored with drawing random sketches on my notepad. My classmates looked just as ancy to leave, fidgeting around in their seats.

The teacher, Ms. Gojo, is a slim-built woman whose dark hair is always tied up in a bun. With glasses to boot, she has the look of an intellectual (and the knowledge to back that statement up) To her credit, she's a great teacher who cares deeply about the curriculum for her students and has a passion for talking about her field of study (anatomy). Her lectures are almost always both interactive and memorable (when it's not going by the textbook, that is).

But I swear, if I have to hear one more word about the chemical reactions of reptilian brain enzymes when subjected to cold-temperature environments I might just...

The bell rings. The class becomes abuzz with activity. Ms. Gojo is babbling on about the homework due next class, but nobody (myself included) is really listening. I grab my spare papers and shove them in my bag.

Believe it or not, I was actually eager for my first 'real' meeting with the Literature Club. Not just because it gave me a chance to know Natsuki better, but I actually found myself enjoying the challenge of writing a poem (to my surprise). It took me well over an hour to carve out a poem I felt was worthy enough to share with someone, but once I finished it, I felt overwashed with a great sense of pride in my writing. Maybe Sayori was right in saying writing becomes more enjoyable when it isn't forced through the confines of schoolwork...

I glanced at my phone. Speaking of Sayori, I expected a text from her telling me to wait for her, but I haven't heard anything from her since the walk home yesterday. 'She probably expects me to go on my own now that I know how to get there', I think to myself. No bother. I still remember how to get there.

I slip out the door and mingle with the crowd of students, all wrapped up in their own conversations. I slip out a door and step outside, going through the foyer. The midday sun was streaking across the thin clouds, giving them a rosy pink-orange glow. It looked amazing reflecting on the koi pond, giving the area a serene and quiet aura. I walked through the doors of the now-empty seniors building and made my way up the stairs.

I turn the corner.

Something catches my eye.

A short girl, dressed in her school uniform, back partially facing me as she stepped out of the restroom. A cluster of paper towels is clenched in her fist She rubs her eyes with the towels and tosses them into a waste bin. She walks away, seemingly unaware of my presence.

I recognize the pink hair immediately.

"N-Natsuki?"

She turns to face me. I can see an ugly redness on her cheeks, eyes puffy. She gives me a mixed look of fear and embarrassment before she turns on her heel and almost runs back into the clubroom. I stand in the hallway, dumbfounded.

'What did I say? What happened to her?' I think to myself. I pause by a water fountain, trying to collect my thoughts.

It looked like she was crying, long enough to have her eyes puffy like that. But over what? What could make a sweet and innocent girl like her cry like that? God, I hope she's okay.

Still in a daze, I walked into the classroom. Yuri and Monika were chatting indistinctly at the teacher's desk, Yuri leaning against the solid oak desk with Monika sitting in the black leather chair used by the teacher. The same book Yuri was reading yesterday sits at her side, her hand gently resting on the cover. At one of the front desks sits Sayori, scribbling with all the focus I've ever seen her give on a piece of paper.

And tucked away at one of the back desks is Natsuki, head looking down at the same book she had in the hallway. Why isn't anyone talking to her?

Monika notices me enter, and slightly spins in her chair to face me. "Ah, there you are Kazuma! I was wondering where you were at. I was starting to think you were gonna skip on us!" She says with a light laugh.

"Dont worry, Monika. I'm one of my word." I say, sharing the laugh. "I'm actually looking forward to sharing my poem. Believe it or not, I actually spent the night working on it." A slight exaggeration, but how would she know?

Monika gives me an intrigued look. "Really? Well, it's good to see that your taking this club seriously. I certainly can't wait to read it!" She gives me a final smile and turns back to Yuri, the conversation over.

Should I talk to Natsuki? Does she even want to be talked to right now? She looks like she wants to be left alone. I decide to just give her some space, and share poems with her last. I walk over to Sayori, so wrapped up in her own little world she doesn't notice me approach. I playfully tap her on the nose. She glances up and beams me a smile. "Hi, Kazuma! Ready to share poems?" She chirps, her voice as sweet as nectar.

I give a light shrug. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Monika claps her hands together, which grabs my (and everyone else's) attention. "Okay, everyone! I hope you brought them with you, because it's time to share our poems!"

"Ah, hello Kazuma! How are you today?" Monika asks me as I approach her. She still sits at the teacher's desk, laptop half closed.

"Oh, good as ever. You?" I reply.

She gives me a pleasant smile. "Just happy to have everyone here. Ready to read my poem?" She asks, the stark-white paper sitting on her lap. "Absolutely." I say. She hands me the paper and I start to read.

From what I could gather, Monika's poem was about...I'm actually not quite sure, there's a lot of ways one could interpret it. Freedom? Taking the road less traveled? Alternate timelines? If there was a message, it was lost on me.

I hand her the paper back.

"What did you think, Kazuma?" She asks. I can feel those pretty green eyes on me, patiently waiting for me to respond.

I start to sweat, unable to effectively collect my thoughts. "Well…it's very, uh...abstract?" I laugh awkwardly, and can feel my cheeks getting hot. "Sorry. I-I didn't mean it like that. I'm not exactly the best at giving critique."

She laughs. "Don't worry, Kazuma! It's good that you called it abstract because that's the style I was going for. Leaving the message up to the reader. What did you think the message was?" She says.

I try to wrack my brain for a quick, effective response. "I thought that it could be about the loss of...a loved one? With the hole in the wall representing the afterlife? The blindness representing the true scale of the person's pain?" I say, with a grain of uncertainty in my voice.

Monika takes a moment to let that comment sink in, turning it over in her head like a Rubix cube. "That's good! While I did write the story with a different theme in mind, I love your interpretation!" She says with a smile. That puts me at ease...slightly.

She points at my paper. "Can I read yours now?" I silently hand her my paper. I watch her eyes trail down to the bottom of the paper, soaking in every detail of her face, trying to read her thoughts. She offers nothing, a blank stare. What is she thinking?

It seems like an eternity passes before she speaks.

"Kazuma…" She starts.

She hands me back my paper. "This is pretty good! I like the way you portrayed the setting, but…" she pauses. "It could use some work. Your overall message was clear but I feel you could have used some words differently. But it's a great first poem for a relatively inexperienced writer and you should be proud."

I smile, grateful for the genuine comment. "Thank you. When I started writing it I wasn't sure how I wanted to write the setting as, and I almost just gave up and wanted to do a different story altogether." I say with a light laugh.

Monika pauses for a moment. "Well, consider this my writing tip of the day. When you get stuck on one part of your poem, or any story really, it'll stop your flow entirely and mess up how you view your story. My advice?"

She waves her hand.

"Just move on! Write down what you have on your mind for that part and just keep writing. You can always go back to it and revise it later.

"Wow, Monika. That's...really helpful. Thank you."

She smiles. "No problem! Don't forget, you can always come to me for advice on anything. As club president, it's my duty to make you feel welcome."

I smile. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

Sayori gives me a bright smile when she sees me approach her. I take a moment to look at the paper she was . It was obvious from the sharp contrast in writing she had gotten something written down, but then came back to finish it later. 'This should be interesting.' I thought to myself.

"Hey, 'zuma!" she chirps. "Ready to exchange poems?" She fumbles with the paper and hands it to me, which I gingerly take.

I read through her paper. It's a brief story about how the sunshine greets her every morning, persuading her to rise out of bed despite her objections. Very cutesy, with a happy tone hanging over the text like an umbrella. The final stanza? 'I want breakfast.' In short, it had Sayori's name written all over it. "Soooo? What did you think?" She says, eager to hear my thoughts.

I hand her the paper back. "I thought it was good, Sayori. Short but sweet, but something tells me you were a little hungry when you were writing it…" I say with a sly grin.

She looked confused at first, but then laughs. "Ahehe, well, I woke up late and didn't get to eat breakfast this morning, so I was feeling hungry when I was writing it".

I can't help but shake my head. "Sayori, you really need to work on getting up on time. Eventually this is gonna hurt your marks." She gives me a dejected look, says nothing. I try to move things along. "Anyway, do you want to read my poem now?" At this, her demeanor changes. She eagerly snatches the paper from my hand and starts to read.

Sayori slowly starts to read my paper, and I watch her expression morph fro vague interest to some variety of awe (that's really the only way I can describe it). I can even hear an audible "woah" under her breath. After maybe thirty seconds, she looks up at me.

"Kazuma, this is amazing! This has to be of the best poems I've ever read in this class!" she says, voice filled with excitement.

I wave her off. "Oh, come on. It's okay, but certainly not the best."

She continues. "No, really! I loved how you tried to put the reader into the setting, and how you made the world around him interesting. Even describing the smallest of details like the coldness of the ocean and all that. It was great!". She concludes with a grin.

I think about her review for a moment. Praise is nice, but I also want criticism. Then again, maybe going to a carefree girl like Sayori for an honest review isn't the best idea in the world.

I start to walk to where Yuri was sitting when I heard her speak up. "Hey, um...are we still walking home together?" she asks, doing that nervous tick with her fingers again.

I pause. "Obviously. Why, whats wrong?"

Sayori stammered. "N...nothing! Just double-checking." she says with an awkward laugh.

I smile, say nothing, and turned to walk to Yuri's desk.

Yuri's poem was oozing with symbolism, using . Her poem (I think) took a more 'fantastical' route, talking about the supernatural and spirits. It was only eight lines long, but it was a very serene poem with a mystical ending.

I sneak a glance up.

Indifferent, Yuri is nose-deep in the book she had earlier, a maroon-red book with the sketch of a cat's eye in a pyramid. I read the title, written in black text. "The Portrait of Markov." It looked very...intimidating. I wonder what a book with that kind of cover could be about? And furthermore, what does a book like that say about Yuri's personality?

I clear my throat. "...Yuri?"

She glances up from her book, her glasses slightly tilted on her nose. She pushes it back into place with her middle finger. "Y-yes?" She stammered. "I, uh, finished your poem."

Yuri closed her book and gently pushed it aside. "Really? Wh...what did you think of it?"

I take another look at her paper, staring at her delicate, cursive handwriting. "I thought it was very nice. It was rather brief but it did contain a lot of pleasant…" My mind blanks. "...imagery.

Yuri gives me a half-smile. "Thank you, Kazuma. Your sentiment means a lot to me."

"So, I take it your a fan of the paranormal?"

Yuri gives me a quizzical look. "I'm sorry?"

I raise the paper in my hand. "Perhaps I misread, but was it not about ghosts? That's the impression I gathered from it."

Yuri pauses for a moment. "That's...one way you could perceive it, but it wasn't what I had in mind."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Oh? What was the intention then?" I said, now intrigued.

Yuri seemed to become flustered at this. "Well...I w-wouldnt want to mess with your certainly valid way of interpretations, but..." She trailed off. "It...it's not that important. Don't worry about it." She glanced at my paper. "May I read yours now?" she said, pushing her book aside. I silently handed her the paper, still very confused at how abruptly she ended that. Wouldn't she want to discuss her work?

Yuri carefully reads my paper, soaking in every detail. I can see her head tilting as she slowly reads to the end of the poem. Occasionally, I can hear her mutter a few 'ohs' and 'ahs'. I lean against the opposing desk, waiting for her to finish. When she was done, she looks up at me, still holding the paper.

"Kazuma, you are a first time writer?" She finally asks, still looking at the paper.

I think for a moment. "When it comes to writing just to write, yes. Why do you ask?"

She looks flustered, like she just said something wrong. "Oh no, it's nothing. I'm just reading through your paper and noticing distinct styles that first time writers tend to do."

I raise an eyebrow. "Oh? Like what?"

"Well…", she picks up the pen lying on her desk, twirls it around with her fingers.", "First time writers usually make the objective of their work obvious to the reader. It isn't a bad style of writing, but it often comes off as immature or unkept. They tend to use more...basic vocabulary out of fear of scaring off or confusing their reader. It's certainly a safe tactic to employ, but for many readers it's a sign of shallowness, or lack of confidence." She says, an edge of authority in her voice. Right now, I am the student and she is the teacher.

I'm not sure whether to be grateful for this information or insulted by the fact she called me shallow. I know Yuri doesn't mean ill intent, but I'd be lying if that comment didn't sting just a bit.

My mind wanders back to Monika and Natsuki's brief dialogue yesterday. "...it's both simple and complex. It's unique." I clear my throat. "Kind of like how Natsuki writes?" I dart my eyes to where she is, busy exchanging her poem with Sayori. I guess she didn't hear me mention her name.

Yuri quickly shakes her head. "Natsuki is...different. What you would think would be a weakness in her writing is actually a strength. She can use simple vocabulary to paint a vivid image. There are few writers who can do this well, and I think Natsuki is one of them, even if she doesn't do it actively."

I ponder this for a moment.

Yuri clears her throat, and slides her book back to her. "In any case, I'm curious as to what she will think of it."

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves before I went to Natsuki. What if she doesn't want to talk to me? Then again, she did seem to talk to Sayori and everyone else just fine. I slowly walk up to Natsuki, whose head is slumped down at her paper.

She looks up at me, an annoyed look on her face. "What do you want?" She said in a sour tone. In her eyes, I can still see redness, but it's mostly starting to fade. I fumble with my words. "We, uh, haven't exchanged poems yet."

She glances away from me. "Oh, right." A pause. "Sorry. It's just…", she trails off.

I try to move things along. "Uh, did you want to share? I understand if you don't want to. ", I say, trying to sound comforting.

"No, it's fine." she mutters, opening up her pink binder. She takes the stray sheet of paper out from its rings and hands it to me. I can't help but notice the slight shaking of her hand, reverberating on the paper.

What happened to her?

I start to read her paper.

A World of Masks

by Natsuki Tamura

A world of masks.

Everyone has one, but nobody knows why.

Blocking everyone out but keeping everyone inside.

Making it so hard to even try.

A world of masks.

It holds you close, blocking out all that you can feel.

Fear distorting everything that is real.

Making it so hard to love, to see, to trust.

Why fight when our demons always pursue us?

A world of masks.

Too afraid to try, but the pain will always remain.

Unable to escape from this terrifying domain.

Suffering more, but hey, who would ever know?

In this world of masks, nobody shares your sorrow.

I read through the paper, then read it again. I can feel Natsuki's eyes on me, gauging for my reaction. When I finished rereading it, I finally speak up. "Wow, that was...amazing."

Her eyes light up. "Really? You mean it?" Her face sours a bit. "Or are you just saying that..."

"No, I really mean that. Your word usage is simple, but it goes a long way in describing the overall message. It was really deep. Natsuki, this is a really good poem. You should be proud of it."

She looks at me. For a second, I think she might start crying again. "Thank you, Kazuma. That r-really does mean a lot." I can't help but feel a warmness spread across my body. She really is sweet.

I frown slightly. "...But it's certainly different from what you said you like to write. Happy things, you said?"

She looked out the window, eyes focused on the koi pond. "I know, but...I just...wanted to try something new, is all. I didn't want my first poem you read to turn you off from me..." Her face goes red, realizing the innuendo she accidentally created. "N-NOT like that!" She stammers.

I blush a bit. "I got you." I look down at the paper, rereading a part of it. "I can see some symbolism here. I can guess the masks represent the fear of sharing your work with others, and being afraid of rejection by others?"

Natsuki sighed.

"Yeah. That's right."

Silence follows. I try to pick things back up. "...did you want to read my poem, now?" I say, holding my paper up in my hand. She nods silently.

I hand her my poem, and she starts to read. I watch the emotions on her face shift from boredom to investment to finally...acceptance? I couldn't place that emotion. After a beat, she says,"You wrote this?"

"Yes."

She flips my page over, as if looking for some hidden clue.

"What is it? What's wrong? " I asked, puzzled.

She flips it over again. "It's...it's good." Her voice seems to quiver. I don't understand. Did she not like it? Did she hate it? Did it scare her? My mind runs through a million different ideas.

She seems to space out, thinking about something (or someone). She gets up from her chair. "Gi...give me a second." Flustered, she turns to the closet and swings open the door.

Hesitantly, I follow.

The closet is much more spacious than I expected it to be. A small sink with a plug-in kettle sits, with wood shelves hanging above it. Facing it is a long row of shelves extending some six feet high, from wall to wall. A bit of a stretch for me to reach the very top shelf, but Natsuki would definitely need help reaching anything up there. Various colored papers, folders and books sit strewn about, some organized and some not.

Natsuki hops up and down, trying to reach at a pink, cardboard book set. She fails and curses (adorably, I might add) "Ughhh! Why does Monika always insist on moving my stuff!" She mutters, still trying to reach the collection of books.

I point at the colorfully decorated box set, sitting on the highest shelf. "Is this what you wanted?" She folds her arms, glances away from me. "Yes, but I could've gotten it myself, you know. " 'Sure you could have', I think with a laugh. I carefully grab the set, surprisingly light in my hands. "Be careful! I spent all the money I had on it, and I cant afford for it to get damaged by you or anyone." She practically snaps at me.

Internally, I roll my eyes. She's acting like I'm gonna toss it out the window or something. I'm not that reckless. Who does she take me for? Though I have to appreciate her care for her…

I take a closer look at the boxset.

"Manga?" I accidentally say aloud.

Her face takes a wounded expression, which morphs into distaste. "Sorry I enjoy stuff that you don't like!" her voice rising at the last word.

I put my hands up in an almost-defensive posture. "No no, it's not that. I love reading manga, dont you remember? I think I mentioned it yesterday."

Her face briefly takes a distant look, then she lights up. "Oh...yeah." She looks down, ashamed. "Sorry I attacked you like that, then. It's just...I've always been laughed at for enjoying something people think is for children.

I raise a finger out to the class. "Even them?"

She gives a dismissive wave. "They don't really care, but I think Yuri looks down on me for reading it. She thinks its too…'childish'", she says, making quotation marks with her fingers. While Natsuki was talking, I ran my fingers along the neatly-organized, alphabetically placed books. I pull the first book out with my finger.

I glance at the cover. At the top reads 'Parfait Girls' in a stylish bold text. Four schoolgirls dressed in colorful attire striking animated poses adorns the cover. It looks like your average slice-of-life manga (the type I tend to stick away from in favor of more 'adventurous' reads). I flip it over and skim through the summary...

"Its kinda slow-going at first, but things start to pick up by the end of the volume. And after that it get really good! This is mostly just exposition so you can get a feel for the characters." Natsuki tells me, her voice completely shifted from a minute ago. 'She must be really passionate about this', I think to myself.

I nod silently, and start thumbing through the pages. The art style is what you'd expect from a female-oriented manga, but there's a certain appeal to the character designs that intrigues me. The way the characters are drawn, in this half-chibi/half-realistic style, has a certain charm to it.

From across the room, Monika stands up. "Alright! I hope everyone enjoyed sharing their poems with each other. It's five o'clock, so you all are free to leave now, but be prepared for an announcement tomorrow about the festival!" And with that, she starts to pack up her laptop. Yuri looks puzzled but says nothing.

I turn to see Sayori lingering by the closet entrance. "Hey, 'zuma! Ready to walk home?"."Sure, let's go." I say, starting to carefully tuck the book into my bag. As I start to leave, Natsuki grabs my sleeve and pulls me close.

"Listen, can you try reading some of it tonight so we can start reading together tomorrow?" she asks, her voice sweet and pure. I nod and start to turn away, but she pulls me closer to her. "But I swear to God, if I find a single crease, wrinkle or tear on my book..."

Her voice is quiet but menacing.

"I. Will. End. You."

All I can do is laugh. "Natsuki, it'll be in better condition than when you gave it to me." And with that, Sayori and I head out the door and make our way downstairs.

"What did you think of Natsuki's poem, 'zuma?" She asked me out of the blue.

We were about two blocks away from Sayori's house when she asked me the question. We had mostly been silent, with myself just scrolling through my phone. I couldn't help but notice that Sayori seemed to be...distant.

I think of a response. "I thought it was really good. There was a lot of imagery that made it stand out, and it definitely lured you into an unfamiliar place."

A pause.

"What did you think of it?" I ask in reply.

"Oh...I thought that too. It felt like it actually put me into that world. Relatable."

Wait, huh?

"Relatable, Sayori? What do you mean?" I asked, confused.

Sayori gives me an odd look, then blushes. "Oh! Sorry. I meant to say 'remarkable'. Yeah, it was very remarkable that she wrote something like that. She tends to keep her writing very…" She makes a gesture with her hands. "Flatlined."

I give her an uncertain look, but ultimately shrug it off. Honest mistake, is all.

I walk her to her front gate and wave goodbye, before I turn and start the walk to my home. I absentmindedly scroll through my phone to pass the time. Before I know it I'm at my front gate. I pull my house keys from my pocket and start to unlock the door when I notice a white letter sticking out of my door. I gingerly pull it out and open it. 'Must've been delivered after my parents left for work.' I think to myself as I tear the letter open.

I skim through it. It's a colorfully decorated flyer advertising the upcoming festival, the message aimed at parents who would like to volunteer. Nothing really interesting for me. I flip it over, but it's just the same text translated to Japanese.

'The festival,' I thought. I wonder what Monika has planned for me to do, if anything. I am a new member, but I'm sure there's something I can do. Maybe help get the word out about the Literature Club or help make decorations or help Natsuki with baking.

With that last thought, my heart beats just a tad faster.

I unlock the door and push it open. As usual, the lights are off and something warm sits on the stove. I flick the lights on, placing the letter on the entry table and walk to the kitchen. I look down into the metal pot on the stove; looks like gyudon, with grilled vegetables mixed in. I open the fridge and dig out a Ramune bottle from it's box, taking it upstairs with me. I get to my door and set the soft drink on my desk, placing my bag on my chair.

I pull Natsuki's book out from my bag and gently place it next to the soda. For a moment, I remember that I also have a poem to write for tomorrow. 'I could always just start writing after I finish, or do it at school.' I think. Or I could get through this and start working on the poem after.

I crack open the book and start to read.

Chapter 4: She's a Parfait Girl

Chapter Text

The first few raindrops splattered against my face, polite wet kisses rolling down to my chin. I stepped away and glanced up, greeted to angry storm clouds swirling above, pushing away the once bright sun from earlier today. The sound of thunder boomed in my ears, and spread out across the foyer I could see students glancing up in alarm and starting to rush away, hoping not to get caught up in the storm.

Within seconds, a steady rainshower was beating down on the campus. The rain dripped down in streams from the tin roofing of the breezeway. The cool air rushed against my face, a harmonic and refreshing feeling. I stood by the entrance to the foyer, protected under the metal roofing of the walkway. 'Good thing I have my umbrella with me'. I thought, thinking back to the umbrella I had packed away in my bag this morning, in preparation for a possible storm (that's what the forecast said, at least). I leaned against the wall for a moment, listening to the rain drum against the roof. I scrolled through my phone, finally getting to check the notifications that had built up in the seven hours it was shut off.

Another treacherous school day had finally ended, and I was ready for my second meeting with the Literature Club again. With Ms. Gojo being absent the last period, it gave me time to fine-tune my poem. After working and reworking it, I finally felt it was adequate enough to show to everyone.

I shoved my phone in my pocket. The rain showed no sign of stopping as I started to walk through the breezeway, careful not to get caught by the constant sheets of rain. As I stepped into the seniors building, a gust of wind swung the door open and practically slammed the door on my back. 'How bad is it gonna get?' I thought as I made my way up the stairs.

I stepped into the classroom. The room was artificially lit, with the storm now blocking out the sun's natural light. It felt rather homely. I looked around and saw Yuri sitting at her usual spot, nose deep into her ominous book. Sayori was at the desk closest to the teachers, scrolling through her cherry-red cased phone, a white pair of headphones snaking up to her ears. It didn't seem like either noticed me enter.

And tucked away in the back was Natsuki, worriedly looking at the rain lashing against the windows, her arms folded against her chest. I could see a cluster of papers sitting on her desk, with her binder opened up. Is it her poem?

Monika was noticeably absent.

I cleared my throat. "Hey, where's Mo-"

Sayoris face snapped up at the sound of my voice. She slammed her phone down on her desk. "Kazuma, your here!" She got up and dashed over to embrace me. I gingerly returned the hug. Is she gonna do that every time I show up? It's almost embarrassing. Ah, whatever.

From the back of the room, I could see Natsuki longingly staring at me. We locked eyes, and she quickly looked away, a trace of red outlining her cheeks.

"It's good to see you again, Kazuma. Glad to see your holding up your promise to the club." Yuri said from her usual spot by the door, glancing up from her Portrait of Markov book.

Speaking of Yuri's book of choice, I did some light research on it, and as it turns out, the plot is very...dark. Much darker than I expected.

To sum up, it's about a high-ranking Nazi medical official who, after World War II, went into hiding and kidnaps various Jewish people to torture and experiment, as a sort of demented 'coping' mechanism for Adolf Hitler's defeat. I spoiled myself a bit, and in the end, the official gets what's coming to him by means of execution, with the story ending on a 'happy' note (if you can call it that), but the reviews that I read said the book makes you reflect over the crimes against humanity the Jews (and other groups) suffered at the hands of the Nazi's during the war.

Now, what does this say about Yuri's personality? Nothing, I guess. After all, she did say she was interested in psychological elements and all that, so a book like the Portrait of Markov would be right up her alley. Still, that doesn't mean it's kinda fucked up. I wonder what the other book she mentioned is like...

I heard a flurry of footsteps outside in the hallway, and a few beats later Monika stepped through the door, the ribbons in her hair slightly disheveled. "Sorry I'm late everyone! I hope I didn't keep you all waiting." She said, her voice rushed and almost panicked. In her hands I could see what looked like music sheets for an instrument. I wonder what she was doing? Monika set her bag down atop the teachers desk and started to put away the papers in her hand.

"Ah, hello Monika. We were wondering where you were." Yuri said, getting up from her seat to lean up against her desk. From the back of the room, I saw Natsuki walk over to join our circle, taking a spot next to Sayori.

Sayori giggled. "I guess you decided the club was more important than your boyfriend after all!"

Monika looked up from her bag and blushed beet red, clearly embarrassed by the notion. She stammered, "B-boyfriend?! What are you talking about, Sayori?!"

"Well, what else would have made you late? Were you just caught up in the crowd, or were you too busy," she made a kissing gesture with her hands "getting busy?" Sayori burst into laughter, Natsuki sharing the laugh. Yuri joined in with Monika's awkward embarrassment. I couldn't help but smile.

Monika shot her a look, her voice now laced with annoyance. "Well, if you must know, I had study hall for my last period and I just...lost track of the time. That's all. No boyfriend." She said with a definitive air.

Natsuki looked confused. "That doesn't make sense. You would've heard the bell, at least."

Monika gave a dismissive wave. "Well, I was in the band building working on my piano skills, and the bells in there aren't as loud as the ones on the rest of the campus. I didn't even know the bell had rung until one of the directors told me it had."

Sayori's face lit up. "You play the piano? I had no idea!" She said, eager to hear more.

Monika smiled. "Ah, well I've only started just recently. I've been having private lessons at home, but I've gotten permission from the orchestra directors to use their piano here to practice with during school. I think they think that me using their piano means that I want to join their," She made a gesture with her hands, "club."

She continued, "But joining them would mean not having time for you all, so don't get too worried, ahah!" Monika said, a warm smile on her face. There's something about that smile that just puts me at ease. It's almost entrancing.

"Still, that's so cool! You have to play something for us sometime!" Sayori continued, genuine happiness tracing her voice.

Monika gave an airy laugh. "Well, I wouldn't call myself the best, but I am in the process of writing a song that I'm trying to get done before the fes-" Monika stopped, and muttered something.

Sayori gasped, and slapped her hands on her cheeks. "YOU'RE GONNA PLAY AT THE FESTIVAL!? THAT'S SO AMAZING!" The bow-headed girl squealed.

Monika smiled, appreciating the genuine praise. "Yes, I thought that a song for the school to hear would really set us apart from the rest of the clubs' events. A sweet, rememberable song will show everyone how creative and fun our club can be for them. I've been working on the song since last week and I'm very close to finishing it."

I spoke up. "I think I speak for everyone when I say I'd love to hear a snippet of it before the festival. Unless you want to really keep it a surprise, that is."

Monika sat down in the teachers chair. "I should have it done by at least Sunday, and I'll play a portion of it for you all before the festival on Monday morning, if you all come in early." She paused. "But just the music, though! No lyrics. That's gonna be the big surprise."

Monika clapped her hands together. "Well, let's get down to it. Time to share poems, everyone!"

Sayori's poem was a little more 'meaty' than her first, with an actual narrative to it. To summarize, it was about a girl whose mind is a collection of bottles, with her 'happy thoughts' (she wrote that a lot) being stored in the bottles in her head. With fluffy kittens and balls of sunshine galore, it was oozing with cuteness, but the words almost reminded me of something Yuri would write (or read) in terms of vocabulary, but much, much brighter in tone.

I set the paper down on her desk, pushing it back to her.

"What did you think?" Sayori said, not hiding her excitement to hear my thoughts.

I took a breath. "It was very...emotional? I think that's the right word. There was a lot of symbolism in it and…" I waved my hand, trying to grasp my meaning. "such. It was good, is what I'm trying to say, hah." Christ, could I have said that any more awkwardly?

Sayori adjusted the bow in her hair. "I know exactly what you mean! Thank you, Kazuma. Your thoughts means a lot to me." She said, her voice sweet as ever. She pointed at the sheet of notebook paper in my hand. "Can I read yours now?" I silently handed her the paper.

Sayori snatched the paper from my hand and started to analyze it. But as she read it, I couldn't help but feel there was something...off about her today. It made no sense considering her bubbly spirit today, and she looked as normal as ever, with her lazily unbuttoned blazer and her messy hair, but the way she carried herself seemed...shifted. I couldn't quite place it. It was like someone else was piloting her body and mind, even though she acted like her usual, happy self.

After she gave me her thoughts on my writing (her critiques just as sparkling and overjoyed as her last one), I dared to ask the question. "Sayori, is everything alright? You seem...disconnected."

"Hm?" Sayori looked at me, a mask of confusion on her face.

"Are you feeling well?" I repeated.

"Of course!" She gave me a bright smile. "Why, is something wrong?" She said, a look of worry on her face.

I shook my head. "No, everything's fine. It's just...I don't know. You seem out of it. Did you wake up late again today?"

Sayori glanced down at her phone (I think she got a message, but I couldn't read her screen well), then back up to me, her eyes parted. "Yeah."

I sighed. "Sayori…"

She cut me off. "I'm sorry! My alarm clock stopped working last night and it didn't wake me up in time. I got here as soon as I could...right after I ate breakfast, eheh." She laughed awkwardly, doing that cute little finger tap again.

I thought about what she said for a moment. Is she lying? It's kind of hard to tell. Even if she is telling the truth, something needs to be done about her constant tardiness. There's nothing more embarrassing than losing credits just because you couldn't be bothered to show up on time. What does it say about your character?

"Tell you what," I said. "How about instead of just us walking to school together, I wake you up on time as well? I could give you a wake-up call every morning and tell you to get up, then I'll wait for you outside."

Sayori gave me a quizzical look, as if I just told her I had a time-traveling DeLorean. After a beat, she put her hands together. "I'd love that! It would keep me on my toes." She paused. "But, I feel like it would be too much trouble for you..."

I gave her a dismissive wave. "It's no trouble. I always get up early in the mornings anyway. And I'd do anything for a friend."

Sayori reached over from her seat and pulled me into a tight hug, which felt nice but holy shit her heads maybe just a little too close to my-

"You're too nice to me, Kazuma. What did I do to deserve you?" She said, her voice slightly low.

I chuckled a bit, and broke off the hug. Monika gave me a odd look before laughing and returning to her laptop. Yuri and Natsuki didn't notice (I hope). I thanked Sayori for her critique and took my paper back. I turned on my heel and took a deep breath.

Next, Monika.

"Great to see you again, Kazuma! Ready to share poems?"

Monika's poem was again both abstract but also definite at the same time. It was about a woman who 'knew everything' and wandered the Earth, silent with her so-called expertise of the universe. It ended on a rather mystical note, with the woman declaring that there is no meaning to life, and that in of itself meant everything. It was very...wispy? That's a word that came to my mind.

I set the paper down, and saw Monika's beautiful emerald eyes watching me, monitoring my movements. "What did you think? I'm all ears."

"It was good. I especially enjoyed that sort of twist ending with the woman revealing the true meaning of life and...whatnot. Very nice." I said.

Monika's smile persisted. "I'm glad you enjoyed it! I was hoping the ending would have that sort of effect on the reader, having it built up like the true meaning was something powerful but ultimately it was nothing." She pointed at the paper clutched in my hand. "Yours is probably better, though."

I handed her my paper. Monika started to read it, her smile unfading. A minute later, she handed it back to me. "I thought it was good! It's very unique and it wasn't afraid to discuss generally untouched territory with it's overall theme. You should be proud of it, Kazuma." She said.

I was slightly taken aback that someone like Monika seemingly enjoyed the poem (unless that was fake praise, a real possibility. She is supposed to make everyone happy, after all.) "Really? To be honest, I'm not very happy with it."

"Oh?" Monika said, raising an eyebrow. "Why not?"

My mind flashed back to last night with the first Parfait Girls volume, and how I had spent almost half the night reading (and rereading it) and then doing some follow up background research on it. When I realized it was almost 2am, I ended up rushing out a poem and going to bed, so it was a good thing I had that free time last period to do some heavily needed adjustments to it.

"I was just distracted, mostly. I couldn't really think clearly. I think that my poem isn't as...organized as it could be." I barely managed to say.

Monika paused, soaking in my comment. She collected her thoughts, her finger tracing the edge of the silver laptop. "Well...consider this another 'Writing Tip of the Day'. When your writing, the outside world can often be a distraction. Internet, phones, all that. Your mind is always looking for a way out to do something more", she made a gesture with her fingers, "'fun'. My advice?"

To make her point, she pushed her laptop away. "Shut everything electronic off and focus only on your writing! And only take a break when you have something written down on that paper! If you constantly take breaks, you'll never write the end."

Just like her last writing tip, Monika's advice was extremely helpful. I should probably use that advice with tonight's poem…

"Thank you, Monika. That's really helpful." I said, my voice earnest and appreciative. Monika gave me a sweet smile. "No problem! As club president, it's my job to help everyone. Always remember you can come to me for advice on anything, and not just about literature. I'm always here for guidance if you need it!"

I thanked Monika for her critique (and honest advice) and picked up my paper with a smile. I turned and saw Yuri sitting at her desk, having just finished sharing with Natsuki.

I walked towards her desk.

Yuri's poem, like her first, was dripping with symbolism from beginning to end. This time, it was about being trapped in a nightmare where you are pursued by faceless demons, but you ultimate wake up to realize they are not real. At least, not in the way they are depicted. Very metaphorical, and applicable to real life.

At least, that was my interpretation of it.

"What did you think, Kazuma?" Yuri said, looking up from her Portrait of Markov book.

I glanced down at the paper again. "It was nice. I liked how the message could be applied to real life, with the demons representing people who you think are nice but actually are someone else."

Yuri gave me a lighthearted smile. "Ah, I'm glad you enjoyed it. That's isn't exactly what I had in mind when I was writing, but it's fairly close."

'Is this what's going to happen everytime we share work?' I think in the back of my head. I give Yuri my honest thoughts about her work and she tells me it's not what she was thinking of? When am I ever gonna get it right in her eyes?

I hold my paper up. "Would you like to read mine now?" I said.

"I'd be delighted to." Yuri said, gently taking my paper. Her eyes started to quickly skim the paper, trailing down to the bottom. I peeked at my phone while I waited, and quickly put it away when Yuri looked up.

Yuri picked up her ballpoint pen and tapped it against her lip, staring down at the paper, lost in thought. What was she thinking? She picked up the paper and looked down through it again, still tapping her pen.

Twenty seconds or so passed in absolute silence.

I couldn't stand it anymore. "...yes?" I said, uncertain.

Yuri was surprisingly blunt. "It has a very good concept, but it does leave a lot to be desired from me. For instance, you could have used some more stronger and emotional vocabulary at the part describing the environment, as these words fall flat and seem boring. Also, the ending, while left to be open-ending, would have worked better if you left a definitive answer…"

'So much for being delighted to read it' I thought sarcastically. Yuri continued to drone on, talking about metaphors and word usage and other interesting/non-interesting things. As much as I didn't want to admit, Yuri was beginning to bore me just a tad. Not that I was intentionally ignoring or trying to disrespect her, but I was just eager to share my poem with Natsuki (and spend a bit more time with her). And as much as I appreciate criticism, there can be too much of a good thing, right? I felt myself starting to drift off, and I shifted in my spot at the desk in front of Yuri's.

I glanced over to Sayori, busy sharing her poem with Monika. Sayori sat turned at her desk while Monika leaned against the wall. Given that it was just us five and the air conditioner was off, it was fairly easy to hear their conversation.

But they weren't talking about their poems. They were talking about something else.

"I'm just worried we won't be able to compare to everyone else's events. We do have a lot of good things going for us, but what does everyone else have going for them?", Sayori said, her voice slightly quivering.

Monika sounded indifferent. "What's there to worry about? We're gonna give it our all and do our best. Even if we don't get a single new member, at least we can say we tried."

Sayori reluctantly agreed. A pause.

"You know, Kazuma still hasn't been told what his role in the festival is yet." Sayori said.

I shifted in my seat, now all ears.

Another pause.

"I was going to tell him to pick who he wanted to work with tomorrow, after the meeting. Any one of us could use an extra set of hands." Monika said.

"He's probably gonna pick Natsuki. Her jobs the most exciting." Sayori said. I couldn't help but notice her voice was a bit more quiet now, like she didn't want her (or me) to hear. Did she notice I was eavesdropping?

"Oh? What makes you say that?" Monika replied.

"Oh, it's just a feeling. I don't mind if he doesn't pick me. I just hope he's happy and comfortable with-"

"Wouldn't you agree, Kazuma?" Yuri said.

My mind snapped back to reality. Shit, what was she saying? I should've kept an ear open for her.

I nod politely. "Yes, absolutely."

Yuri smiled. "Thank you. I'm glad you agree."

I stood up and thanked Yuri, even though I may have just sold my soul to her without even knowing. I looked across the room and saw Natsuki sitting alone. I felt a pang of sadness. Why is she always the one seemingly left out?

Time to fix that.

Natsuki was back to looking out the window, watching the sheets of rain patter against the window panes. I cleared my throat, and she looked up at me.

"H-hey…" she managed to say. She pushed a loose strand of her pink hair behind her ear. I sat down on the desk in front of her. "We haven't shared poems yet." I said, my finger tapping my paper. Natsuki opened her binder and unclipped the clean sheet of paper, handing it to me.

I took her poem and started to read.

Alone

By Natsuki Tamura

Alone

An endless numbers of people
Lines and rows of faces everywhere
We see so many, and meet a lot
But only a handful care

How can we be utterly crowded
How can we be surrounded

By people
everyday
everywhere

And still be so

Alone?

I rubbed a fleck of dirt from my eyes, and handed the paper back to her. "Wow, that was... great. It was short but it had a lot of, uh…" I made a fist and shook it, "power to it, y'know?"

Natsuki flinched at my fist, which made me pause for a moment. Did she think I was going to hit her? I could never and would never do that to her, or any girl for that matter. I should apologize.

"Oh...sorry. Sorry." I muttered.

Natsuki glanced away from me. "It's okay. It's not your fault."

Natsuki added, "Thanks for saying that."

An awkward silence. Why the hell is it always me who makes things so weird?

I shifted in my spot. "Uh...did you want to read mine now?" I held my paper out to her.

Natsuki took the paper and starts to read, sitting up in her seat. I lean by the desk next to her and wait, my eyes drifting to the windows. The rain still drummed against the windows, but it seemed more muted than earlier. 'Hopefully it'll clear up by the time the club ends.' I think to myself.

A minute passes. She has to have read it at least twice by now. It's not like I wrote a novel or something, it was only 8 lines long. Natsuki keeps staring at the paper, her eyes going up and down the paper. What is she looking for?

She finally clears her throat.

"It...it's…"

I give her a confused look. "It's what?"

Her feisty demeanor returned. "Why can't you just suck at writing? My poems were supposed to impress you, not the other way around!" She almost yells.

Wait, what?

"Y-you wanted to impress me?"

Natsuki blushed, a color so deep it almost matched her hair clip. "W-well…" she reaffirms her voice. "And what, let Yuri wow you more than me? Obviously I'm trying to impress you!"

I pause, trying to find my bearings. She's trying to impress me? But wait…

"Well, what's wrong with me trying to impress you, then?"

"N-nothing! I...umm…." She looks back at my paper, as if anything has changed in the one minute she read it.

The paper slid from her fingers, gently floating to the flood. She quickly stood up from her desk. "I-I need to get some water!" she declared, and quickly walked out of the room. Yuri and Sayori glanced up in confusion. Monikas eyes follow Natsuki out the door, and she glances in my direction.

She closes her laptop, gets up from her spot at the teacher's desk and starts to walk towards me.

'Ah, shit.' I think.

"Kazuma, is everything okay? What happened?" Monika said, taking another glance at the door.

I start to sweat. What the hell am I supposed to say?

"I don't know, honestly. We were just talking about our poems and she got really embarrassed for some reason…" my voice trailed off, getting quieter with every word.

Monika bent down to pick up the fallen paper,dusted it off with her hand. "Well, maybe she was just nervous around you, is all."

I paused. "N-nervous?"

Monika shrugged. "Well, you are the first boy in our club, after all. Or maybe she was just nervous about-"

A hand reaches out and snatches the paper from Monika's. "You shouldn't mess with things that weren't meant for you, you know! You have an awfully bad habit of doing that!" Natsuki barked at her club president. Neither of us noticed her enter.

"Oh? Sorry, I didn't know Kazuma wrote it just for you." Monika says with a sly grin.

"Ngh!" Natsuki cries, caught in her own words. "Th-that's not what I meant! You know what I meant!"

Monika paused, thinking about something. "Wait, what did you mean by 'I have a bad habit of doing that'?" Monika says, her smile gone.

"Like my manga set! Why do you keep messing with it!?" Natsuki retorted, voice still laced with annoyance.

Monika pauses. "You think I'm doing it just to mess with you? The teacher specifically asked me to move them to make room for her materials. This isn't just our clubroom, you know."

Natsuki stammers, once again beat. She didn't have a defense. "W-well, just tell me where you put it next time! Last time it wasnt even in the closet!" She said, pointing to a tall bookshelf standing outside the closet door. "It was all the way up there, out in the open! Where people could touch and mess with it!"

Monika sighed and spread her hands. "I only do what the teacher says. She told me to put it there. I'm sorry for not telling you in advance, but I do what she says."

Natsuki scoffed and gave a dismissive wave. Monika just smiled. She walked away, leaving me and Natsuki alone.

Natsuki gave a huff, and looked at me.

"And what about you? Do you have my manga?"

My mind snaps back to the Parfait Girls, a surprisingly good read despite it being mostly filler. Natsuki was right.

"Oh, right." I say, reaching into my bag. I pull out the book and hand it to her. Natsuki quickly takes the book and flips through the pages, looking for tears. She shuts it and flips it over. She squints at it. "Wait...did you clean it? It looks immaculate."

I give a slight grin. "I said it would be in better shape then when you gave it to me, didn't I? I always keep true to my word."

Natsuki blushes. "You um...you didn't have to do that, you know."

I give a wave. "Don't worry about it. Just wanted to show my appreciation for you loaning it to me."

Natsuki smiled, showing off her adorable little fang.

"Now, did you want to start reading the next one today or...?"

Her face lights up. "Oh, yes! Come with me." she grabs my hand and pulls me into the closet. She quickly looks around, but becomes almost disoriented. "Where is it…" I hear her mumble before she looks up at the very top shelf.

And there, sitting next to a stack of textbooks, was the Parfait Girls boxset.

She cursed. "Seriously, Monika! At the very top!?" she yells, echoing out to the class. There was a pause. "I didn't put it there!" Monika replied with a light giggle.

Natsuki growled, and tapped her foot angrily. She looked around, opened up the cabinet. She sighed and slammed it shut. Natsuki looked at me and walked out of the closet. I lingered by the door, watching her. What the hell was she doing?

Hopping across the room, Natsuki walked to the teachers desk and grabbed the leather chair and quickly started to push it across the room to the closet. From their spot by the class door, Yuri and Monika humorously watched her roll the chair across but said nothing. Sayori didn't even seem to notice, her focus on eating what looked like a cookie.

I raised a hand up. "Natsuki, this is too dangerous. Just let me get them..." I reached a hand to the shelf to grab them, but Natsuki quickly slapped it away. "I can get them myself!" she said, her voice sharply rising with every word. She pushes the chair into place and wobbly started to climb it, clutching the shelf for support.

She turns and looks at me.

"Well don't just sit there, help me!"

Women.

She pointed down to the armrests on the chair. "Hold it in place while I grab the set."

"Natsuki, I can get it down for you. You don't have to-"

"I can do this myself! I don't need help!"

That's why I'm holding the chair for you, right? Why the hell are girls always this complicated?

I sighed as I got a better grip on the armrests. Natsuki tiptoed as she tried to grab the boxset, grabbing the lower shelves to not fall over.

I glanced up.

Holy shit.

Nononononono not looking nonopenooonuhuh. Noooooooo.

Natsuki's legs wobbled, and she shifted on her feet to get a better standing on the chair. Reaching forward, she grabbed the manga boxset with both hands and lifted it above her head. "Got it!" She said, her voice triumphant.

The momentum of her lifting the box above (and behind her) caused her to lean back.

"Natsuki!" I yelled.

The girl yelped as she struggled to find her footing. Gravity ultimately won, and the pink-haired girl lost her balance, the chair sliding out from beneath her feet. The girl fell into my arms as I tried to break her fall. I fell back-first on the tiled floor and tried to shield her with my body. The books landed and slid around us.

I opened my eyes up.

Our noses were almost touching. Natsuki's eyes were still shut so she didn't notice. I quickly reeled back and stood up, dusting myself off. I extended an arm out to help her up.

She started to sob.

She sat up on the ground and pulled up her sleeve. I looked at her arm and saw an ugly looking bruise about the width of an orange start to form, welting by her arm joint. Discolored shades of purple, green and puke yellow started to form.

"Oh Christ. Oh my God are you okay? Oh God let me take a loo-" I started to say, voice panicking.

Before I could finish, Monika hastily rushed up to us. Sayori and Yuri trailed behind her.

"What the hell happened?" She snapped.

Natsuki turned to look up at her. Monika instantly saw the bruise and gasped. "Oh my God, Natsuki!" She said, her voice slightly panicked but trying to keep a calm tone.

Monika started to help Natsuki up, her voice sweet and calming. "Come on baby, let's get you cleaned up." She looked at Sayori and Yuri, both standing awkwardly a few feet away, unsure of what to do. She made a nodding gesture, and the two girls followed behind their club president. "It's okay, it's okay...", Monika kept repeating, rubbing Natsuki's hair, trying to calm her down like a parent would a crying child.

Monika looked down at me. "Kazuma, please be so kind as to clean..." she made a gesture to the fallen books. "this up."

And with that, the three girls walked out the clubroom, leaving me lost and confused. I didn't look up to check, but I sensed that someone had lingered by the door, giving me a judgemental look before leaving. Probably Yuri, or Natsuki herself.

'This is it', I thought. This is what ruins my standing with these girls. Yuri, Natsuki, Monika, hell probably Sayori think I'm some sort of monster now. God damnit. God damnit.

Anger washed over me, loathing myself. So much for trying to make friends, Kazuma. How the hell does anyone recover from this? You might as well not bother showing up tomorrow.

I looked down at the scattered books, spread out across the floor. I sighed and started to pick them up one by one, placing them in a stack on one of the desk seats.

I grabbed one of the books (volume 2, the one I was supposed to read next) and flipped it over.

"Oh no." I said to myself.

The books cover was bent at an odd angle, with the laminated plastic now bent white at the crease line. I gingerly tried to bend it back into place, but it just started to crack.

If Natsuki is as crazy as she seems about the condition of her books, she's gonna ring my mind raced.

What do I do? They'll be back any minute.

I zipped open my bag and carefully placed the book inside, pushing aside a few papers and folders to make room for it.

I hastily zipped it up just as the door clicked open, and the three girls entered. Natsuki's sleeve was pulled up, and I could see gauze wrapped around her arm, with what looked like an ice pack pressed under it. Yuri and Sayori were talking to Natsuki, but I couldn't make out what they were saying.

I felt awful.

Monika walked up to me. "Uh, Kazuma…" she started. "Do you think you and I could have a private chat for a sec'?"

'This really is it', I thought. This is her telling me not to come to the meeting tomorrow. God damnit. God damnit.

"Sure." I said, my voice said weakly. Monika gave a weak smile and started to walk to the door. I held my head down slightly, like a dog punished for peeing on the carpet.

I didn't check, but it felt like three sets of eyes were staring at me, none of them thinking happy thoughts.

Monika and I stepped outside. I glanced out the wide windows of the hallway, facing towards a parking lot (and further beyond, the town of Ichikawa). The rain seemed to die down a tad, but light sheets of rain still drummed against the windows.

The door clicked shut.

"Monika, I can explain-"

Monika raised up a hand to silence me. "There's no need. Natsuki explained everything. She was trying to get her manga set and she fell, and you tried to cushion her fall. Just an accident."

"Is she alright?" I said.

Monika shook her head. "Fine for the most part, just that bruise she got from the fall. Yuri wrapped it up as best she could. It should do until she gets home." She paused. "But it did look painful."

"Oh Jesus." I said, turning away to face the window. I ran my fingers through my hair.

"It's not your fault, Kazuma. It was an accident. These things happen." She put a hand on my shoulder "Listen, your not in trouble. But I do think you should talk to Natsuki and say...well, something. It would be very awkward if you didn't."

I sighed.

"Okay?" She said, reaffirming. She patted me on my shoulder. "Just don't worry about it. I don't hate you. Yuri or Sayori understand it was an accident. Just don't worry. Everything's fine."

She opened the classroom door, and I followed behind her. Monika clapped her hands together, trying to take control of the still-awkward situation. "Ah, alright everyone. I think we can call that a day. Now I want everyone to write at least one more poem before we start working on the festival. Okay? Good. Good."

Yuri grabbed her bag, waved goodbye to us and walked out of the door, once again reading her Portrait of Markov book. Monika walked over to the teachers desk and started to pack up her things. She looked up and me, and shifted her eyes to Natsuki. I knew what that meant. 'Go talk to her'.

Sayori walked up to me, a smile on her face. "Hey...did you still want to walk home? I have an umbrella we can share.", She said, raising up her polka-dotted umbrella.

I walked up behind Natsuki, slowly putting away her binder into her bag.

"Uhhh...just, hang on a second." I put a hand on her shoulder and walked to where Natsuki was.

"...Natsuki?" I said quietly.

Surprised, she turned around to face me. Her face had a dreadful expression, like she knew this conversation was going to happen. I felt 10 times worse now for forcing this on her.

"Uh," I fumbled with my words. "Could we talk in private for a minute? Like, downstairs or somewhere?" I nervously tapped my fingers together, almost like how Sayori does.

Natsuki shifted on her feet. "S-sure."

She and I both walked out the door.

The rain still continued, but it didn't seem as bad as it was earlier. Natsuki and I sat down on the stairs facing the entrance of the seniors building, watching the rain fall against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the lobby.

I coughed.

"Natsuki…" I started, unsure of what I wanted to say. "I'm truly sorry about what happened back there. I didn't mean for it to happen."

Natsuki waved her hand. "You don't need to apologize. It's not your fault. I should have just let you get the stupid books."

My mind crawled back to the damaged book, and I felt a shiver run up my spine. I had to tell her, no matter how she reacts or if she blames me.

I took my bag off my shoulder and unzipped it, reaching for the damaged book. I pulled it out and showed it to her, the cover facing her. "I know you don't want to hear this, but it would be wrong to not tell you." She looked at me. I revealed the damaged book, resting in my hands. "One of the books got damaged. I, um…I tried to get the fold out of the cover, but it didn't fully come out. I'm truly sorry."

Natsuki gave a light gasp, and I could see tears start to swell in her eyes. She turned away, covering her face with her hands.

I followed her, putting a hand on her back. "Oh no. Look, I'm really sor-"

She cut me off, her voice choking. "I-it's not t-that..." she started, tears tangling her voice like barbed wire.

"Natsuki…" I started, but my voice fell silent.

"It's j-just...things are r-really hard for me r-right now...and you've just been so n-n-nice to me...and I've been n-nothing but r-rude to you and…" she started to cry.

I turned her to me and embraced her, my arms wrapping around her. I gently stroked her hair, trying to soothe her like Monika did.

"Natsuk, it's okay. I understand. Your going through some stuff and you don't have anywhere to vent at." I said, eyes now level with her. Those beautiful pink eyes stared into mine, and I felt my heart rate speed up.

"I just want to say that...that I'm here for you if you need someone to talk to you. I know it's only been a few days, but I do care for you and want to see you happy.

Natsuki wiped away the tears from her eyes, sniffling.

"But, um...in the meantime."

I reached for my wallet and opened it up, and took out a slightly crinkled 2000 yen note (equivalent to a 20$ bill in USD) and handed it to her, the bill folded in my fingers.

"For a replacement copy."

Natsuki seemed taken aback, staring at the note. "Kazuma, you really don't have to..." she objected. I pushed the note into her hands, closing them on the note. For a moment, our hands were almost intertwined.

"No, I insist. And don't worry about paying me back, it's on me." I said, pulling my hands away.

For a moment, I thought she would start crying again. Then, without warning, Natsuki embraced me in a tight hug, her arms wrapping around my chest.

"Th-thank you." I heard her mumble through my blazer, voice muffled through my shirt.

She released me, but I felt the sensation of her warmth still clinging to me. I never wanted to let her go.

She sniffled again. "W-well, now that you have the next volume, you can start reading it." She stammered. "I-if you wanted to."

I smiled. "It'll be the first thing I do when I get home."

A smile returned to her face. "And then we can read the next one together tomorrow."

My heart pounded in my chest. "I can't wait." I said, trying to sound as relaxed as possible.

"Okay..." she lingered. She shifted on her feet. "You can go now if you want. I was gonna wait for the rain to stop."

"Why?" I asked. It could be hours before that happens.

She turned away, embarrassed. "I forgot my umbrella."

I dug into my bag and pulled out the umbrella I had packed away. I handed it to her. Natsuki stared at the umbrella, and gently took it in her small hand. She looked up at me.

"Don't worry about it.", I said. "Just bring it back tomorrow."

"I will.", She said, her voice now quiet. I smiled, feeling much better about myself now.

"Okay….bye.", She said waving. She opened the umbrella up and opened the door. I could hear the rain outside now, the sweet smell of the condensation flushing in.

And with that, she turned to face the storm.

Everything in my mind and body screamed 'Walk her home, you fucking idiot. Make her feel safe.', but I knew Sayori was already waiting for me to walk her home upstairs, and I couldn't just leave her hanging like that. Maybe I can walk her home tomorrow, but not today.

And as I watched Natsuki step out into the rain, in the back of my mind, the perfect idea for a poem started to bloom.

Chapter 5: Poems are Forever

Chapter Text

The dim light of my desklamp reflected across the walls of my room, the only real source of light coming in except for the streetlamps outside. The doors leading out to the hallway and my bathroom were shut and I was, once again, the only person in the house. On my desk, a few bottles of Ramune soda sat empty, my bag dangling open on my chair, hanging by a strap.

I was laying down on my twin-size bed, head up against the wall. A thin yellowpad and ballpoint pen laid in my lap. The page I had open was scrawled with several bulletpoints and various doodles, the corner of the papers slightly dogeared from toying with them. A half-empty Strawberry Ramune bottle and a dirty bowl from supper, (a minced vegetable dish) sat on my nightstand. Plugged up to the wall was a tiny, white plastic radio (a 1970's model with no clock, a mail-in Christmas gift from my American aunt overseas) softly playing dramatic orchestra music.

I thudded my head against the wall and sighed.

I had followed Monika's advice from today's club meeting and turned off my laptop and phone hours ago (except for my radio, on the concept that some background music would help 'get the juices flowing'). Since I got home, it was just me and my thoughts. I contemplated inviting Sayori over to brainstorm our final poems together, but tossed the idea aside. She probably wouldn't feel like going out anywhere anyway, preferring to sleep in like she normally does.

I stared across the room, fixated on the tiny wastebasket tucked into the corner. To the brim it was filled with crumpled up yellow papers, various sketches and ideas scrawled on them all. All rejects.

As I stared at the balls of trash piled up, I felt my emotions grow more...disgusted. Maybe not disgusted, but upset. Upset at myself for not being smart enough to come up with a decent poem by now.

I clicked my pen over and over in annoyance. I glanced down at the yellowpad again, and tossed it aside.

'I need some air.' I thought to myself.

I got up from my bed and walked to my window, moving aside a few books sitting on the windowsill to prevent them from falling outside. I snatched the last Ramune bottle from my desk and popped it open, forgetting I already had one open.

I unlatched the window locks and propped it open.

The rain was reduced to a light drizzle, faintly sprinkling on my shirt sleeves and hair. I took a sip from my Ramune bottle and looked out across the neighborhood. The pagoda-inspired rooftops were neatly organized, a tightly-designed grid extending as far as my eyes could see. Usual urban life sounds (a dog barking, cars driving by, crickets) filled my ears.

Some twelve miles away past the river, the faint outline of the downtown Tokyo skyline was visible, the bright lights shining through the fogs haze. The majestic Tokyo Skytree (the tallest structure in Japan at 2080 feet tall, for the record) gleamed through the night, with the smaller, more homely Tokyo Tower nearby. If I squinted, I could just make out the thin outline of Mount Fuji, the white-capped mountain looming over the city.

I sighed.

'This was going to be harder than I thought'.

But what was I expecting? Love poems have never been my forte (hell, love in general is something I've always treaded a thin line on). All the ideas I had developed these past few hours (including the one I had when I watched Natsuki leave) were okay, but they all felt too...crass. And cliche. Like it was something just written on a whim, a last-minute essay due next period. No emotion or heart to it, just robotic. If I was writing a poem like this, I wanted it to have soul.

Whatever I wrote, it had to be good-no, no, great. The best damn poem I'd ever write. It's gonna be the last one before we start working on the festival, Monika said? Then make it the best.

Only the best for Natsuki.

I took a swig from my drink, letting the sweet flavors swish around in my mouth.

A breeze blew in my face, and I felt a shudder rush up my spine, but not because of the cold. The question I had been dreading finally came to stare me in the face.

'What if she doesn't like it?'

And to add to that, 'What if she doesn't like me?'

Well, then that's it, then. She'd read the poem and catch the hint, be weirded out and probably tell Sayori...who'd tell Monika...who'd tell Yuri, and that would be it. I'd be embarrassed out if the Literature Club, probably labeled a creep ('He only joined just to get with one of us!') Sayori would look down on me and try to slowly disassociate herself from me (probably stop talking to me altogether, history aside). Things would be incredibly awkward after, then I'd have no choice but to go back to life as 'normal'. Only talking to a few pre-existing friends, and once they found out...well, bye bye social life.

What a nightmare.

Another swig.

Unless it's just all in my head, my brain over-exaggerating reality. Fear taking root of your thoughts, amplifying the negatives while diminishing the positives. While there's a chance she might not like it, there's also the chance she will.

I tapped the bottle against the windowsill, listening to the glass gently clink...clink...clink.

Suddenly, a spark.

'Wait', I thought, trying to grasp this idea.

Yes. This is perfect. Yes yes yes.

I ducked my head inside and slammed the window shut. The radio was playing a slow jazz cover, full of saxophone (almost sounded like "How Deep is Your Love?", but I wasn't sure.) I swiped up my yellow notepad and pen, putting it down on my desk. I can't afford to lose this idea. I sat down at my desk, pushing aside the stacks of papers and books.

Eagerly, I brandished my pen and began to write.

An hour later, I had a neatly-written poem printed on a clean sheet of notepaper. I read and reread it, going over the final details. With a smile, I decided that it was perfect (well, about as perfect as it could get). Maybe Yuri wouldn't like how slightly lacking it was in sophisticated vocabulary, but then again, I didn't write it for her.

In 'celebration', I powered on my phone and laptop, and was greeted to a flurry of notifications. I swiped through most of them, either unimportant or not worth spending a few minutes on. News reports, new episode updates for my favorite series...nothing special.

I yawned, and glanced out the window from my chair. The inky blackness of the night persisted, with the moons glare shining on the traces of clouds. A quiet, serene scene. I looked down and glanced at my phone's clock.

2:23am.

Christ, how long did I spend working on that poem? It had to be at least several hours, maybe, of on and off work. However long it was, it has to be the most I've ever worked on anything, school-related or not.

I stretched my arms out, twisting to pop my back. After all that work, I was incredibly tired, yet I still had school in a few hours and I had to give Sayori her wake-up call.

I took a sip from my Ramune bottle, fighting to stay awake. 'I can sleep for a few hours and still wake up in time in the morning', my mind managed to process. I lazily grabbed my phone and set up an alarm for 7:00 sharp. I stood up and walked over to my inviting bed, collapsing onto the neatly-pressed sheets.

Just a few hours of sleep. Then we'll show Natsuki the poem and everything will be…

My world fell to black.

I woke up several hours later, the sunset glazing in through the window. My mind was locked in a state of confusion before I realized I had slept through the day. I tried to call Sayori to let her know what happened, but it went straight to voicemail. I cursed, and sat up on my bed. I should try going to her house and apologize for not showing up to the meeting (or giving her an explanation so late) face-to-face.

I clicked open the door to the hallway.

Natsuki was standing there, motionless. Her skirt was torn in several places, part of her vest sleeve ripped off. Her face was staring down at the floor, her pink hair dirtied and frayed. In her hand, I saw a heavily damaged book, scorch marks on the cover. Parfait Girls?

I stammered. "N-Natsu-"

"You weren't at school today. We were all waiting for you, but you didn't show." she growled, her voice low and distant.

I took a step back, slightly defensive. "Natsuki, I can ex-"

She followed. "Me and you reading together was all I had to look forward to, and you ripped that pleasure away from me. How could you do that?" She continued.

I felt a shiver. "Natsuki, I'm sorry-"

"When I realized you weren't gonna come, I hid in the bathroom and cried. Is that what you want? For me to be hurt more than I already am?" She said, her voice cracking with that last part.

What did she mean? Hurt more than I already am? What's going on?

"Natsuki, please-"

She threw the book aside. "HELP ME, KAZUMA! PLEASE! PLAY WITH ME!" her voice gargled, her throat choking. She coughed, and a spray of blood lashed my face. I tripped and fell back, scooting away in a state of absolute fear.

My eyes were frozen.

She looked up at me and gave me a wicked smile. Her facial features had vanished, leaving only a blank white face and that wide, broken grin. "HELP ME!" she screeched, voice piercing through my ears.

There was a sickening crunch, and her neck seemed to contort and snapped in two. My jaw dropped in horror, as her body convulsed. She rushed towards me, and her small hands wrapped around my neck-

I gasped as my eyes snapped open, my alarm blaring in my ears. I turned on my bed and hastily grabbed it with sweaty hands, my eyes squinting at the bright screen. With a few taps, the alarm ceased.

"What the fuck…" I kept muttering to myself, trying to understand the nightmare. I ran my fingers through my hair, rubbing my eyes clear of gunk.

What in the everloving fuck was that? Why was Natsuki like that? What did it mean? Was there a meaning? And furthermore, what did she mean by 'hurt more than I already am?'

I shook the thoughts away. 'It was just a nightmare. All this stressing out caused it. I need to stop worrying.' I tried to tell myself, but the ugly thoughts lingered.

I stepped into my bathroom to relieve myself. I finished up and reached into the shower to turn the water on. I slipped out of my clothes and hopped into the shower, dousing my hair in the hot jets of water. The water rushed over my body, and put me at ease. By the time I had finished, I forgot all about the nightmare (to my relief).

I dried myself off and went through with my usual morning routine. Got dressed, combed my hair, brushed my teeth, all that. I shoved my phone into my pocket and quietly stepped downstairs, trying not to wake my parents.

The living room and kitchen was dark, the lights off. I turned on the oven light and turned the knob on one of the stoves. I quietly pulled out a pan from the pantry and set it on the quickly-heating stove. I turned and dug into the fridge, pulling out a four-count carton of eggs, and started pulling out other ingredients.

I can hear the stove click off and I return to it's attention. I take three of the eggs from the container and crack then on the rim of the pan, hearing the sizzlepopopopop of the egg mix with the heat.

In a few minutes, I had a nice, seasoned omelette on a plate ready to eat. I took the other two omelettes I had made and put them in the fridge, a little surprise for my parents when they wake up. I quietly wash the dishes and replace them in the drawers.

I grab my plate and take a seat at the dining table, headphones in. I quickly devour my breakfast, scrolling through today's morning news. I glance up at the clock hanging up on the wall, resting above a portrait of myself, my mother and my father.

7:37am.

'Well, now would be a good a time as ever to call her', I thought. I take my plate upstairs and open my phone, tapping to the dialer. I punched in Sayori's cell. I walked over to my window and took in the morning scenery. Outside, I could hear a few birds crying out their usual morning chorus. I pressed my phone to my ear with my shoulder, digging through my bag for my binder.

The line clicked. A groggy, female voice answered. "H...hello?"

"Sayori? It's Kazuma."

Silence.

"...Sayori?"

Her voice returns, now chipper and bright. "Oh, hi Kazuma! Why did you call me this early?"

I pause. Did she really forget? "Don't you remember from yesterday? I was going to give you a wake-up call every morning." I pull out my binder, solid black and stuffed with papers.

"Oh, right! I almost forgot. I'll be down in a few minutes." She says. Through the phone, I can hear a faucet running.

I grab my poem from my desk and slide it into a holder. "Cool. See you then." I say, and hang up on her. I close up my binder and stuff it back into my bag, right next to the Parfait Girls volume.

Oh, fuck.

How did I forget? I was supposed to read it yesterday so I could read with Natsuki after the club meeting! I grind my teeth in anger. Damnit. I shake my head. 'I can just read it through the day and have it done by the time the club meeting starts'. Sure, I might look dorky reading manga out in public, but I don't really care. It's important.

I flick the lights off to my room and close the door, heading downstairs. I quietly open the front door and lock it behind me, walking to the gate. The convenience is that Sayori lives only a few doors down from me, a walk that takes less than a...

I peer down the street.

A girl rests up against the fencing, looking up at the sky. A dash of red in her orange/pink-tinted hair. Brown blazer and a blue skirt. Sayori.

She glances in my direction, almost not noticing me. "Kazuma!" She waves her arms excitedly, as if I can't see her. I chuckle and walk towards her, but she runs up to me and embraces me.

I smile despite her eagerness. "Nice to see you too, Sayori." I say, with an awkward laugh.

We start the walk to school, chatting indistinctly about schoolwork and other random stuff. We of course talk about the club, and Sayori brings up that the Literature Club has a group chat that I need to be added to now that I'm a member, which should be...interesting, to say the least.

We reach the gates of the school and gives me another hug and says her goodbyes. She starts to run off before I stop her. "Woah, what's the rush?" I say, confused.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you! I'm meeting Monika this morning so we can discuss the plans for the festival. I was supposed to meet her now, so I need to get there fast."

I give her a look. "Why can't I go?" My mind traces back to Yuri and Natsuki. Are they going to go?

She pauses. "Oh, well it's…" she tries to find her words. "private talk, y'know? President and Vice-president talk. Well tell y'all today at the meeting. Anyway, I gotta go!" She gives me a final wave before she darts off, dodging pass the slow-moving students around her.

I stand alone, still confused. 'President and Vice-president talk?' Wonder what that entails. I can't help but wonder if their talk is about me, in a bad way. About the events yesterday, perhaps?

I shake those thoughts away. Sayori did say she would share their discussion with everyone else today. I'll just have to wait. Plus, if I did go with her, I wouldn't have time to catch up with the Parfait Girls.

I walk through the main building, double checking the campus map at the front doors. My eyes scan for the library…

The third period bell rang, and the class became alive with activity. Lunchtime had arrived, and a lot of students were eager for today's menu, nikujaga (a rich beef stew with potatoes).

I slung my bag over my shoulder and mixed with the crowd, in unison making their way to the cafeteria. I entered the cafeteria, a long low building with windows extending all the way up to the roofline. During the midday natural light streamed in through the massive, unobstructed windows, giving it a peaceful air. Fountains and small trees dotted the court, giving it a more au natural feeling. Most people sat on the ground floor, but there was also an elevated seating area overlooking the main court, accessible via stairwell. It was typically occupied by people looking for a more 'quiet' and reserved place to enjoy their meals. I usually sat there when I need to cramstudy before a class, or to sit and enjoy my manga with few judgement.

The air smelled rich with spices, which made my stomach rumble all the more. I joined the line and in a few minutes had a steaming bowl of soup (plus a cookie treat and a side dish of fried rice to go with it) in my hands on a tray.

Now, where to sit? At this school, everyone had their own sort of 'cliques', i.e groups that always hang out together. I usually sit by myself somewhere secluded, or more often with some friends I share interests with (mainly anime). But I don't...

A flash of pink catches my eye. My eyes swivel back to relocate it.

There, sitting up against the farthest wall, nose down in a small, colorfully-decorated book. Blue skirt tucked in her legs, muted pink bag sitting next to her. Red clip in her hair. Face with a monotone expression, focus directed at her manga.

Natsuki.

'What the hell? Why is she all alone? Is she always alone at lunch?' My mind raced through a billion different answers. Do Monika, Sayori and Yuri not have this lunch? Do they go off campus to eat? Does Natsuki not like going along with them?

I felt my bowl shift on my tray, from my hands starting to shake with nervousness.

'I have to go talk to her.' I think.

I start to move past the students, who pay me no mind. My mind continues to swirl. Have I seen her eat lunch here beforehand? There's usually a couple of loners sitting up against the wall, on their phone or otherwise. It feels like there's always been a dash of pink among them. My stomach gets heavy. If only I had known her before, she'd always have someone to sit with.

'Just be cool. Be cool. Be cool….'

I stand in front of her. She hasn't noticed me yet, I don't think.

I clear my throat. "Natsuki?"

She glanced up and jumps at the sight of me. "K-Kazuma?" She stutters, dropping her manga (Parfait Girls volume 3, the next one I'm supposed to read). "What are you doing here?"

I shift on my feet. "I have this lunch. Why are you all by yourself?"

She looks away, ashamed. "...I don't have anyone to sit with."

"What? What about Monika and the others?" I swear, if they purposefully leave her out of their clique, I'll…

She shrugs. "They don't have this lunch. They're in the B Group."

My emotions relax. "I see." At this school, there's two lunches, A and B. Usually A Lunch is filled with third and fourth years, with B having first and second, but there's always a few kids who get left out of the majority.

"Is that why your on the floor, then?" I ask.

She gets up and dusts herself off, the Parfait Girls volume clutched in her hand. "Why do you care?" She says, her voice icy cold.

"I was just wondering if you…" my hands grip the tray. "would like to sit with me? I get it if you don't want to..." I mentally prepare myself for an outright rejection, or a laugh in the face.

Natsuki blushes. "Umm, s-sure. But I don't know where we'd sit." she say, her eyes scanning the sea of heads.

I smile. "Just follow me." I watch her grab her stuff and I walk past the rows of tables heading for the upstairs sitting area. Natsuki walks side-by-side with me up the stairs.

Thankfully, the deck is relatively free of students. Only a couple kids are scattered across the tables, chatting and eating indistinctly. A few kids give us a glance but return to their business. I walk over to a corner table with a nice view of the lower court. Natsuki put her bag down and takes a seat. I put my tray down and join her.

There's a brief pause.

Natsuki speaks up. "Have you finished the Parfait Girls volume yet?" Her hand rests on her current volume.

I take a bite of my rice, sharp with flavor. I nod, having managed to finish the book before the first bell. "Yeah. It was really good. You were right about how things get interesting after a while. I can tell that stuff is about to get…" I twirl my fork. "real." I laugh.

She politely joins the laugh.

I can't help but notice how Natsuki is eyeing my soup, her eyes hungry. I take a sip of my drink before I dare to ask. "Did you eat lunch already?"

She turns away, arms folded. "No."

"What? Why not? The lines died down a bit." I say, pointing towards the food line below with my fork. Compared to earlier, now only a few kids were waiting in line for their meals.

"I know, but I forgot to bring my money." She says, embarrassed.

I don't even hesitate. I gently pushed my tray towards her,

Natsuki glances down at the tray, and gives it a look of disbelief. "Kazuma...are you sure?" She says, eyes locked on the still-steaming bowl of soup.

I nod. "Well, it would be mean to offer it to you just to take it away from you, wouldn't it? And don't worry, I'll just get a bite from the vending machine later." I make a motion with my hands. "Eat."

Natsuki picks up the utensils, and gives me a final "Are you sure? glance. I just nod.

For a few moments, it's mostly silent as Natsuki hungrily wolf's down the stew, draining the bowl in a few minutes.

My mind claws for a conversation piece. I think back to the poems.

'Now's your chance, Kazuma. Don't ruin it.'

I reach down to my bag. "Hey, so um...I have my poem with me, and I was wondering if you wanted to trade them now so we don't have to later, and we can get to reading Parfait Girls quicker." A pause. "That is, i-if you want to." I add for good measure, so she doesn't feel forced.

She just smiles. "Sure." She unlatches her bag and pulls out a pink folder, a few hearts and cat stickers decorating the front. I pull out my binder and retrieve the paper. I feel my heart beat just a little quicker...

"I'll go first. Here." I hand her the paper. She gingerly takes it and glances at it.

Moment of truth.

She starts to read, still eating the last few grains of rice. I watch her face turn from general boredom to intrigue and ending with...all I can call it is amazement. Her cheeks flush red.

"Wow...that was…that was…" her voice is slightly higher toned. "Um…that was…"

I butt in. "...bad?" Fuck, here we go.

She quickly shakes her head no. "Nonono, it was...just, wow. I, um...you wrote this for me-" she drops her spoon and almost yells. "I MEAN THE CLUB!" she laughs awkwardly. "You wrote this for the-the club?"

On the outside I look neutral, normal. But on the inside I'm screaming.

'She loved it! Oh my God!' I feel a massive weight lifted off my chest, a hurdle passed. Now the question is…

"Yeah, I spent all night working on it. It's our last poem we'll share together before we work on the festival, so I wanted to make it good for y-the club." Fuck, did she hear that?

She nods her head. "It was really good, Kazuma. I didn't expect you to write something this...good." she hands me the paper back, slightly quivering in her hand.

My mind still in a daze. I can't believe it. She loved it. She loved it. She loved it.

"...but I still think mines better." She quirps, handing me her own paper. It's a slightly dogeared piece of copy paper, written with pencil. I can see her polite, cutesy handwriting from here.

My hand quickly takes the paper and I start to read. Like a sponge, I absorb every word.

Breathless
by Natsuki Tamura

In and out
Inhale, exhale
Repetitive and constant
A machine that never turns off

A thick, inky smog clogs my nose
Searing my face, the heat
It burns, hurts
This smoke which I can't wave away

Then, a light in the darkness
You come to blow the smoke away
And with you
It's a breath of fresh air

My lungs are clean
My eyes can see again
And my heart is happy

My hands clutch the paper. My head swirls with a billion thoughts. The smells of everyone's lunches fills my nostrils and my eyes blur just a tad. Is this really happening.

I can't believe it. Am I dreaming? Certainly I'll wake up from this daze and be in bed, struggling to write a poem for today.

She wrote this for me. This was written at me. She had to. There's no other way to decipher this. The metaphors, the analogies, the...everything! This has to be a confession, right?

"...Kazuma?" Natsuki waves her hand in my face, snapping me out of my trance.

I open my mouth to speak.

The bell rings.

'WHAT? No, nonono! It can't be like this!' my mind screams. 'Why the hell did it have to ring NOW! God fucking damnit!'

The cafeteria becomes abuzz with activity, students dumping their trash away and heading out the double doors to class. "Ah, well..I guess I'll just tell you my thoughts at the club meeting, then." I start to hand her the paper back. To my surprise, she pushes the paper back to me.

"Actually...why don't you hold onto it…" she pauses, a light blush on her face. "Yknow, for safe keeping."

My hands grip the paper tighter. 'It was meant for me. It was meant for me to have. She wants me to keep it.' My mind repeats these words over and over.

"Oh, sure." I try to say, keeping my voice tranquil and chill but actually starting to shake with nervousness. I can't believe this is actually happening.

We walk together downstairs, the empty tray in hands. We stop in front of the doors leading out to the foyer. I put the tray into a trashcan and turn to her. "So, I'll see you at the clubroom?" I say, adjusting my bag on my shoulders. She nods. "Yeah. Share with me last so we can just get back to reading, okay?" she says, those beautiful pink eyes staring at me.

I smile. "I can't wait."

She turns away. I can see a trace of a blush on her cheeks. "Alright...bye." she gives me a small wave and hurriedly walks away to class. I give a final look and turn away.

My heart feels like it could explode, but if it did I wouldn't care. I'd die a happy man.

Chapter 6: Daijoubu

Chapter Text

"When we look at the data provided by the media outlets, we discover that the information provided by eyewitnesses tends to fluctuate between accounts. Some describe the assailant as firing twelve rounds, while other describe him as firing six. You may ask yourself, "How can this be? Why is there such a glaring variation amongst people's accounts of the incident?" One possible explanation for such…"

Dr. Kido, my sixth period instructor, continued to drone on to a relatively-silent class, busy scribbling notes down in their journals. My journal, a simple spiral notebook, laid open on my desk, but it had been a while since I had jotted down any notes this period. While Theory of Knowledge has always been an interesting class to me, my mind was almost entirely occupied elsewhere today.

I stared down at my desk, fingers flicking the edges of Natsuki's poem as I read it for perhaps the 20th time that day. My eyes grazed over the stanzas over and over again, soaking up every word. I felt my finger brush the outline of her signature, a simple scribble in the corner of the paper.

I kept turning the lines over like a burger patty on the grill. Not taking anything away from it, she wrote a very good poem, using simple words to give vivid descriptions. Ultimately easier to digest than Yuri's abuse of complicated vocabulary, or Monika's...abstract view of reality. As I kept rereading it, I was locked on the idea that this was a confession of affection, reading inbetween the lines. It had to be, or at the very least a hint of such emotions. Nevertheless, the very idea made my heart pound faster than I've ever felt it beat.

Just one thing troubled me, however; the intro. I still couldn't piece together what exactly the smoke and the ugly thoughts was referring to. My mind recalls our conversation last time, when she started crying to me about the Parfait Girls volume. What did she say?

'Things are really hard for me right now…'

What did she mean? What could possibly be troubling her so much to the point of a breakdown? My mind failed to think of a reason.

Chances are it's school-related. A lot of students are getting in over their heads about the end of this semester, trying to get their late work turned in before the gradebooks closed, solidifying their academic standing to potential universities. Even the best and brightest of students (like Monika) would be lying if they weren't fretting just a little bit.

I glanced out the window.

Call it stereotyping, but I couldn't help but connect Natsuki's exhibited persona to an anime cliche called a 'tsundere', or a character that acts cold to the main character/Protagonist (in this case, myself), but later begins to be friendly to them (and depending on the series, falls in love). The initial hostility at my joining the club, refusing help at getting the Parfait Girls volumes down, then slowly warming up to me by taking the umbrella and accepting my lunch. One key trait was missing from this equation, however.

Still, my mind still lingered at the idea it was a giant coincidence, or just unintentional. Natsuki didn't like me. She thinks I'm a creep, or just trying to play nice to get with her. Are these thoughts the result of of my fear and anxiety once again taking root? Manipulating my ability to think clearly? There was still a good chance she had no interest in me in that way, and just thinks of us as friends. Once again, I tried to

"-give us an example, Mr. Odaka?" I heard Dr. Kido say.

I froze, looking up at mention of my name. My mouth turned to sand.

"Could you repeat the question, sir?" I said with a mismanaged air of confidence.

A few laughs. Dr. Kido squinted through his wireframe glasses. "What is one concept that could be applied to the data?"

I quickly glanced down at my notes. I felt an itching heat rush up and down my body (the kind I always get when I'm put on the spot like this, even if I was supposed to be paying attention). My brain began to lock up. I could feel about a dozen eyes focused on me, watching my every moment, waiting for a response.

My mind spurred. I flipped back a page into my notes. "Uh...has sensory perception been mentioned yet? It could be applied by saying how disabilities affect our ability to perceive our reality." I looked up with a hint of uncertainty. That was a good enough answer, right?

The class nodded in general agreement. Dr. Kido smiled. "Yes, I was hoping you'd bring that up.", He turned back to face the board, now tracing back into our previous lesson about animals perceiving the world differently from others and yaddayaddayadda.

I wiped a trace of sweat from my forehead. That could have ended very badly. Gotta remember to keep an ear out. I dipped back into my thoughts.

The question is, how do I act from here? Do I start actually flirting with her? Do I wait and see if she flirts with me first, at all? How the hell do you even flirt? I've never dated anyone before, and I have next to no experience when it comes to this sort of romantic stuff. That's assuming she has an interest at all, anyway. Maybe I should just slowly start to drop hints and see if anything happens…

The bell rang. I swooped up my papers and shoved them in my bag. Just two more periods, then the Literature Club. Blow through sharing poems, then spend the rest of the hour reading with Natsuki.

I took in a lungful of air and slowly sighed.

'Just relax. Everything will be fine.' I told myself with a shaky uneasiness. I ran my fingers through my hair.

I exited the class.

The final period bell rang, and I hastily grabbed my things and stepped into the hallway, moving past the crowds of students. I stepped out into the foyer and took in the view. Low clouds hung over the skies, but sunlight still shined down. The air was unusually humid, and I didn't enjoy it at all. I adjusted my shirt collar and made my way to the fourth-years building.

I entered the building and walked up the stairs. Like usual after school hours, the halls were relatively free of students. I nodded to a passing teacher making her way down the stairs. Down the hallway, I could hear Sayori and Monika chatting indistinctly, though I couldn't quite make out what they were saying.

I slowly crept up to the door, and leaned out to where they couldn't see me (on first glance). I could see papers strewn across the teachers desk, with Monika standing behind it, the chair pushed back to the wall. She was thumbing through a manilla folder, her bag hanging half-open on the chair. Natsuki was sitting at the closest desk to the teachers, nose-deep in Parfait Girls (looked like the next volume I was supposed to read).

Sayori was sitting on top of the desk, facing away from the club president, kicking her feet ever-so slightly like a child in a grocery store cart. On her face, I saw the same distant, expressionless stare I saw a day ago.

I felt a chill.

"It's sort of complicated, having to differentiate between one variable and the next, because the OS can get confused and isn't sure which program you want to initiate, but then you'd have to write out a separate line of code telling it what to do…" Monika was saying, her voice droning. Natsuki seemed indifferent to her rambling, while Sayori nodded absent-mindedly.

Was she trying to explain one of her classes to her? Judging from the lingo she was using, it sounded like a computer class or something. That would explain Sayori's relative indifference to her. What Monika was saying sounded really...complicated. And Sayori's constantly bouncing around from topic to topic.

I remember back in our primary school years our language instructor had assigned us to write a short essay (like two paragraphs) about our favorite thing to do at home. Sayori had just finished writing it (on eating snacks, usually mine)...only to toss it because she remembered she liked sleeping more. It's a tad difficult to keep her attention focused on one thing for longer than a class period.

If that's the case, then maybe...maybe that's all that face means. Just boredom. Disconnected, daydreaming. And I'm ultimately worrying for nothing. Once again, I let my mind take things too far and exaggerate reality. I need to learn to not let these things happen so easily.

I stepped into the classroom.

The three girls glanced up. Sayori shot me a big smile and hopped off the desk. She rushed towards me, arms open. She embraced me in a big hug. "Hehe, there you are! I was just about to call you to ask where you were."

I heard Natsuki chuckle a little, and I felt my face go red. I glanced at Monika, a mixture of accepting embarrassment and confusion. "Sayori, class barely ended. I couldn't have gotten here any quicker."

Monika cleared her throat, taking charge. "Ahah, it's good to see you again, Kazuma. I'm glad that you showed up, because there's a bit of an issue we have to discuss." My mind started to worry at first before I remembered what 'the issue' was about, thinking back to Sayori and Monika's previous conversation.

Sayori released me from her deathgrip hug and happily hopped back to her spot. I fixed my now-crooked blazer and dusted myself off. I slowly walked to the desk adjacent to Natsuki's and sat atop it, putting my bag down in the chair. I tried to put on a cool demeanor. "Sure, what's up?"

Monika smiled.

"I'm sure you know about the festival coming up, right? I don't need to go over it." Monika began, propping herself up against the teachers desk, pushing aside a few of her papers to make room.

I nodded. I mean, who in this school hasn't heard of the festival? Every year towards the end of the fall grading session, the administrators and school board throw a big celebration festival on the first two days of the last week before the December break, regardless of whether you passed or not. Food, drinks and lively traditional/modern music galore as students take the load off from their arduous studies during school hours.

A common feature at these festivals were lots of showcases for all of the various activities and clubs the school had to offer (and for university representatives as well, eager to get their name out there to the student body 'cream of the crop').

For clubs and groups (like the debate club, for example), it's a good way to advertise to more students for the next year rather than just bulletin board flyers and the morning announcements, so obviously Club President Monika would be trying her hardest to make the Literature Clubs exhibition the best it can be.

She continued, "I know that you've only just joined, but with what Sayori and I have planned for this event, we really need all hands on deck, including yours. Natsuki and Yuri already have their plans together, as well as myself and Sayori, but you're the only one left out."

"Speaking of Yuri…", I half-glanced around the room. "Where is she? Is she alright?"

Monika gave an affirmative wave. "Oh, she said she wasn't going to be here, doctor's appointment, but she'll be here in time to start work tomorrow. She told me on the group chat…" She paused. "Which you haven't been added to yet, shit." She pointed at me. "Remind me to add you to that after class." I nodded.

Group chat, huh? That'll be interesting.

She gestured to herself. "Myself and Yuri are going to be working together on creating decorations to spruce up our little area, getting the right theme in place and all that." She gestured to Natsuki, half-peeking at her Parfait Girls volume. "Natsuki is going to be baking snacks and treats to offer passerbys/potential members, as a way to lure them in and pique their interest."

"And Sayori is going to be in charge of the general schedule and order of our booth, running checklists and that sort of stuff. Making sure we do stuff on time and", she twirled her wrist, "well, you get the idea."

"Initially, I was going to have Sayori and Natsuki working together so things would be even, but since you joined that kinda threw things off balance, you being the odd man out." She paused. "Not that that's a bad thing. I'm happy you joined, but it just means I have to shake up the order a bit."

The realization slowly came to me as she talked.

"What I'm getting at is that you have to choose between Sayori or Natsuki with who you would like to work with. Tomorrow was just going to be a sort of 'research' day, like getting recipes in order and choosing a theme to work on, but I was hoping everyone would start actual work on Sunday, if that's alright with you."

I don't understand why, but I just felt my mind lock up. I wasn't prepared for this. I opened my mouth to say something, but no words fell out. That same itching heat I had in Dr. Kido's crept up my body again.

"Uh…" I started. An awkward pause. "Could you excuse me?" I sat up and rushed out the door, nearly tripping on my feet.

"Kazuma?" I heard Sayori call out, but I didn't turn around.

I hastily exited the class.

The bathroom was sleek and wide, the lights toned down slightly. Polished wood stalls, checkerboard tiled floors and a long mirror ran along the wall, free of scratches. A small bonsai tree sat in the corner, and a smell reminisce of peaches filled my nose.

I shoved the door open with my shoulder, the door clanging on the doorstopper. Since it was after school hours, the place was naturally deserted. I could head the soft gurgling of water rushing through the pipes in the walls. I paced around the sinks, loudly tapping my foot in agitation.

'This is a disaster.' I kept repeating in my head.

How the hell am I supposed to pick?

If I choose Sayori, I'm losing an entire day I could use to get to know Natsuki better and get closer to her. If I pick with Natsuki, I make Sayori feel unwanted and maybe even hurt her feelings. There's no way to actually 'win', here.

I turned on the tap from the sink, and a thin stream of cool water gushed out. I dove my hands under the stream and rubbed my face, the cool water dripping down my chin. I cupped my hands and took a sip; filtered and pure. I glanced up in the mirror and noticed how disheveled my hair had became. I quickly combed it back into shape with my damp fingers.

I ripped a few paper towels from a dispenser and padded my face dry.

C'mon. Your freaking out over literally nothing. All you have to do is pick between them. Just go with Natsuki, and try to figure out what's going on with Sayori later. Maybe try and go talk to her on Saturday? That sounds like a good idea, at least.

I tossed the paper towels in the wastebin and took another look in the mirror. I straightened up my pose and tried to look confident, relaxed. I freaked out over nothing and ended up embarrassing myself. Christ, I really need to-

I heard a knock at the door. "Kazuma? Are you in there?" I heard a muffled voice call. Monika.

I gently open the door.

Monika stood outside. "Kazuma, is everything alright? You seemed upset." Monika said, a shadow of worry cast on her face. I shook my head. "Oh, everything's fine. Just...constipated." I said with an awkward laugh. Jesus, did I really just say that?

Monika shifted on her feet. "Oh, I see." A pause. "Do you need more time or…" she seemed to back off a bit.

I hastily shook my head no. "Oh, I'm fine now, thank you. No worries." I smiled, trying to push the awkwardness of the situation away. "Great! Shall we go back?" She said, smile returning. I nodded enthusiastically. She turned on her heel and started walking back to the class, myself warily following.

When we returned, Sayori and Natsuki were busy talking to each other, though I couldn't hear what they were saying. Sayori glanced up and gave me a worried expression. "Are you okay, 'zuma?" she said. She hopped off her spot, but I put up a defensive hand. "I'm fine, just had to use the restroom." I said. Reclusively, she sat back down. I immediately felt bad. I wasn't trying to be rude...

"Yes, well, where were we now?" Monika said, sitting down in the teachers chair. "Kazuma, do you know who you'd want to work with this weekend?"

I glanced at Natsuki. She blushed, and looked back down at her Parfait Girls volume, the book shut with the cover facing up. I glanced at Sayori, looking down at her white shoes gently tapping against the desk. She looked up and gives me a genuine smile.

I feel myself start to lock up again.

'Fucking hell, say something.' My mind barks.

"Well…" I adjusted my collar, gears turning. "I always wanted to give baking a try. "That is, if your okay with that, Natsuki." Natsuki perks up, a smile breaking across her face. She just nods. "Yeah, it's whatever...you can help get me the supplies I need." Sayori looked indifferent, a smile persisting on her face. What was she thinking?

"Alright! That settles that, then." Monika swiftly pulls out her phones stylus and starts to scribble down notes.

I coughed. "Uh, sorry Sayori." I sheepishly say. "I just-"

She cuts me off, almost abruptly. "It's fine, Kazuma! Don't worry, my jobs really boring anyway. I wouldn't want to make you unhappy, ahehe." She smiled.

I returned the smile, but my mind sticks to that last part. 'I wouldn't want to make you unhappy.' Even if Sayori's task was as exciting as watching paint dry, I'd have fun anyway because I'd be with her. She's my best friend. She...she knows that, right? Should I say something? Try to affirm that?

I pause.

No, she certainly knows that. That she doesn't bore me. She's always made me happy, and I've done the same. That should be enough.

Monika claps her hands together. "Alright! Even though we're one member short today, I'd still like everyone to share their poems. Then tomorrow Yuri will return and we can get working on our tasks."

She reached into her bag. "I'm especially proud of this one…"

...

Flowers

by Sayori Asoka

The petals drip down into a dark puddle

Splashes of color, swirling in my eyes

I collect them and hold them all close

Their sweet smell entrancing me

The smell fades

The petals dry out and crumble

I walk back to the floor

Only there is no more color

The flowers have died

Only the lingering smell of death remains

Pause.

"Kazuma?"

"Hm?" I say glancing up from her paper.

"What did you think?"

I pause. "It's very...well, it's not what I expected you to write. It's a tad dark, don't you think?"

"Yeah…" she drew circles on the desk with her finger. "I wanted to, well, try something different. Yuri's poem was sort of similar like this and I wanted to try and make my own version of that."

"Ah, well, it certainly got across a lot of emotions. It's very...weighty?"

"Hehe, thank you. You could say the same about your poem, Kazuma. It had a lot of emotions driving it, too."

"Haha, thanks."

I stood up. "Thanks for sharing."

Sayori just smiled.

Monika was sitting down at the teachers desk, tapping away at her small laptop. She had taken her blazer off (now resting on the chair), revealing her white dress shirt and orange sweater vest. Behind her on the whiteboard, I could see a couple of equations and assorted numbers scrawled with a green marker. I wonder what she was working on?

She glanced up and immediately shut her laptop. "Oh, hey! Sorry, I was just working on something for my coding class. That's what all", she gestured to the scrawlings "that is, haha."

I shared the laugh. "Hey, it's cool. Looks pretty complicated."

She sighed, and pushed her laptop aside. "It really is. Our instructor is making us write out our own little program as a final grade before break and it's driving me nuts! If I flop with this, it could ruin my grade."

"I see." I said, nodding. "Well, hopefully you can get that all figured out. Then again, what's someone like you have to worry about? I'm sure you'll create something better than anyone in your class could."

Monika looked up at me, those pretty emerald eyes shining. "Thank you, Kazuma. That means a lot. You sure do have a way to make a girl feel a certain way, huh?" She said with a laugh. I blushed.

"Anyways, poems." She said, handing her paper to me.

I took her poem. Monikas statement earlier was right; she should be proud of this one. It was, from what I gathered, a portrayal of a victim of the Hiroshima nuclear bombing in 1945. Staggering around a ruined city, blinded and dying. Knowing but also not knowing what happened to them and to their home. 70 years later and it's still a touchy subject, but Monika captured it's essence perfectly.

"Wow, that was...moving. I wasn't expecting something like this. You captured the emotions of that day very well."

"Thank you." Monika said silently. "I didn't really enjoy writing it, but I felt inspired by it after doing some research on the bombings for my history class. Just something I felt should be written, so I took that chance with this being our last poems to share."

An awkward silence.

She pointed to my paper. "Hopefully yours isn't as...depressing, ahah." she said with a brief laugh. I handed her my paper.

She quickly started reading it, her eyes going across each line.

After a while, she spoke up. "Do you mind if I say something about it?". I shrugged. "Sure. I'm open to criticism." She paused. "It's not a criticism, but...is this" she leaned in slightly, voice quieter "a love poem?"

I blushed again, and I could feel myself start to sweat. "Wh-what?" I laughed awkwardly. "What makes you s-say that?"

Monika smiled. "Don't worry, Kazuma. I won't spill your secret, but you did make it kinda obvious with your word usage. It's very cute, though. It's a clever way to admit how you feel to me."

I freeze. Huh?

Monika bursted out laughing, the ribbon in her hair bouncing slightly. "Ahahaha, I'm just kidding Kazuma!" she said, still laughing. I couldn't help but join in the laugh. I mean, what was I supposed to do?

"Well...thank you for that." I say, taking my paper back. Monika gave me a laughing smile, but it didn't help with putting me at ease. One thought troubled me.

If she doesn't think I wrote it for her, who does she think I wrote it for?

I turned around.

Practically hopping, I walked over to Natsuki's usual spot, tucked away in the back corner desk. She was once again nose deep in the Parfait Girls, her eyes intently reading the pages. Atop her desk was the manga boxset from the closet.

"Hey." I said, standing beside her desk.

She glanced up from her Parfait Girls volume. "H-hey." she replied. I pointed down at the desk in front of hers. "Mind if I sit here?"

She scoffed. "Well, of course not, dummy. What, were you just gonna stand there all day?" I chuckled, setting my bag down on the floor.

"Is that the next volume I'm supposed to read?" I said, pointing at the book in her hands. She looked up again. "Y-yeah, so? I was just rereading it."

I smiled. "Cool. I do that sometimes, especially when it's with good series. Better than just letting it sit and collect dust on my shelf."

Natsuki looked back up, gently putting the volume down. "Y-you have a collection?" She said, surprised.

"Yeah, complete editions. I have it tucked away above my desk. It's only a couple of my favorite series that I've read over the years, though it's probably not as big as your collection."

She glanced away. "Actually, Parfait Girls is the only physical collection I have."

"What? Why?" I asked. It's kind of surprising she doesn't actually own her series. Not that I'm making fun of her, but it's usually what people (well, my friends at least) do. Physical over digital.

She folds her arms. "Who cares? Mind your own business!" She said, annoyance lacing her voice.

"Alright, alright." I said, trying to put her back at ease.

A pause.

"Hey, also…" she paused, adjusting the Parfait Girls volume. "I need to give you my number so we can start planning for Sunday."

I nodded. "Sure, no problem." I quickly pulled out my phone and opened up my contacts. "What is it?" She slowly rattled off her number to me, waiting for me to finish inputting the digits. I added her and put my phone away.

"Don't make me regret it." She growled at me. I laughed. "Don't worry." I ran my finger along the edge of the desk. My mind wandered back to this morning and how I got to finish the Parfait Girls volume just barely before the first bell. I dug into my bag and carefully pulled out the volume, holding it up to her. "So anyway, since we've already shared poems, do you want to get back to Parfait Girls?"

Her eyes lit up. "Oh, yeah!" She said excitedly, but keeping her voice low. She swooped up the manga boxset and stood up from her desk. She made a motion with her head to follow her, walking towards an empty spot against the wall, next to the closed closet door.

She brushed off a spot on the ground and placed the boxset there. She sat down and patted a spot next to her, beckoning me to join her. I bent down on a knee and took a spot next to her. Running her fingers along the bindings of the volumes, she slipped the previous book back into it's holder and handed me hers. She grabbed the next volume and opened it up, immediately starting to read.

I looked up. Sayori was sitting in a chair under the window by the teachers desk, where Monika was facing the whiteboard, scribbling new equations onto the board.

I opened up my volume and began to read.

My heart pounded in my chest.

She was right there.

Natsuki's head was resting on my shoulder, body pushed up against mine. She sat with her legs stretched out, her blue skirt carefully tucked under her thighs. Sunlight gleamed through the windows, reflecting in her hair, giving her an almost angelic glow.

I thumbed to the next page, taking in the intricately-drawn art. Credit to whoever wrote this, the style is very cute. Almost reminds me of a cross between typical 1990's Sailor Moon styles and more chibi Pop Team Epic. Interesting blend that works really well.

I can smell her on me.

It was such a vibrant and dizzying scent. Like strawberries and what I imagine rainbows would smell like. Call me a creep, but it's about how I expected her to smell like. So pleasant.

I continued to read. At this part of the story, one of the girls has a crush on a boy who works at a sweets shop at a mall, and the other three girls are following her around on her date with the boy, and...

Without moving my head, I glanced over to Natsuki.

She had her own volume opened up on her lap, but she wasn't reading it. She was intently looking over at my own volume, unmoving.

I cleared my throat. "You okay, Natsuki?"

She seemed startled. She clutched the edge of her own volume. "Ye-yeah, what's up?" She said. She pushed back a strand of her pink hair behind her ear.

I nodded. "Nothing. Just seemed like you were more interested in my volume than your own."

She stammered. "Well, it's j-just...I-I mean...that's a good part, and I wanted to see your reaction. That's all. What's wrong with that?!"

I toned back my voice. "Hey, nothings wrong. I do the same thing when I'm introducing my friends to a new series. I'm curious as to how they react to some of my favorite parts." I nudged her on the shoulder. "Your fine."

She blushed, and turned away. "Th-thanks, Kazuma." I adjusted myself in my spot. "Don't mention it."

I looked up, and almost froze.

Through the rows and rows of desks, Sayori was silently watching me. Not like buggy-eyes or anything, but just silently watching me from her desk. An almost dead stare, unsmiling.

Out of instinct, I waved. She took a second before she waved back almost excitedly, smile spread across her face, before she looked down at her phone, now distracted.

Slowly, I returned to the manga.

'Alright, that was kinda weird. How long was she looking at me, I wonder? Probably not long, a couple seconds. I wonder what she thinks of me and Natsuki being so close together…is she threatened? There's no real reason to be.:

I shook these thoughts away.

Back to Parfait Girls. You can think about all that later.

...

15, 20, 30 minutes passed. I finished the volume fairly quickly and ended up discussing my thoughts with Natsuki afterward. It was nice, mostly because she was very passionate about the series and it's always fun to talk to people who have a deep love for their art. Very refreshing, sharp contrast from the usual faceless nobody wannabe fans I find on Internet comment sections.

I watched as the hands of the clock slowly reached 5'oclock. On cue, Monika's phone started buzzing an alarm, which she quickly grabbed to shut off. She stood up, her laptop bag and regular bag slung on her shoulders. "Well, that's the bell! Thanks for showing up today, everyone. Now, I want everyone to start thinking about what you want to work on tomorrow, because that's all were gonna be doing next meeting." Everyone nodded in acknowledgement and started to grab their things.

I stood up and dusted myself off. I stuck my hand out to Natsuki, who gingerly grabbed it and boosted herself up. Her cheeks went hot, and I couldn't help but smile.

"Oh, Kazuma!" I heard Monika call from the back of the room. "I still need to add you to the group chat, remember?". I reached down to grab my bag and walked over to where Monika was at. Sayori was busy getting her purse together (apparently she made herself busy by cleaning it).

I pulled up my messaging app and handed Monika my unlocked phone, who quickly started tapping away. In a few beats she handed it back, and I felt my phone start to buzz from the new notifications.

Natsuki drifted away from me and met with Sayori, who was already waiting to leave by the door. They both turned and smiled at me. I walked up to them, bag slung over my shoulder. "Text me whenever you get home so we can start planning right away, okay?"

"Alright." I said, unbuttoning my blazer. The weather outside looked cooler than it did earlier, and I was hoping to enjoy a nice breeze or two. I folded my blazer over my arm.

"And start reading the next volume so we can get back into it faster. Then we could start reading more on Sunday." She blushed, stammered out. "T-that is, i-if you wanted to."

"Mhmm." I said, undoing my tie.

Sayori waited patiently for Natsuki to finish talking before speaking. "Kazuma, are you still gonna walk home with me?" She said. I couldn't help but detect a hint of... desperation in her voice. Did she think I was gonna ditch her for Natsuki? I wouldn't do that (well, if that opportunity came up I would let her know beforehand, but still).

"Well, yeah." I said. "You thought I was gonna ditch you?" Sayori blushed. "No-no! I was just double-checking, hehehe!" Natsuki gave a curious look to Sayori but said nothing.

Monika swiped her bag off the chair and dangled a pair of keys in her hand. "Ready to leave?" she said to us three. We all stepped outside and went our separate ways, Natsuki tagging with Monika and Sayori walking with me the opposite way down the hall.

"Bye guys!" Monika said to Sayori and I, turning to wave. We both turned and waved. Natsuki had her headphones already in and almost didn't notice, but she turned and waved goodbye at the last second. We locked eyes for a moment.

'Text me'. she mouthed at me.

The walk home was rather uneventful. The whole stroll back I tried to figure out how Sayori was feeling, but she still seemed her bright usual self, talking about her plans for the festival and how excited she was for the free food they were gonna serve. Eventually I gave up trying. I walked Sayori to her door, hugged her goodbye and made my way home.

By the time I got home, sunset was beginning to streak across the sky. I unlocked the door and, as expected, the lights were dimmed and something was brewing on the stovetop. I glanced down into the pot; looked like shabu-shabu, a nice water-based meat and vegetable dish. Hungrily I grabbed an empty bowl and ladeled some of the dish into the bowl. I snatched another Ramune soda (God, I love those things) and hurriedly took everything upstairs.

I pushed open the door with my foot and set my bag down at the foot of my bed. I sat down in my desk chair, gently placing my meal onto the desk. I propped up my legs and took a swig of my soda.

Digging into my pocket, I pulled out my phone and tapped to my music playlist.

As I watched the steam waft from my dinner dish, my mind wandered back to the Literature Club group chat. I was anxious to see if my name came up anywhere (and if so, in what context).

I opened up my messaging app and tapped to the chat, accurately named 'Literature club' with a flower and book emoji. I took a quick glance at the member list. Monika was listed as the admin, with Sayori as the moderator. Yuri and Natsuki were regular members.

Sayori's photo was a pan of glazed cinnamon buns (did Natsuki make them?), username happy-thoughts with a sun emoji. Yuri's photo was a stack of books, their binders showing off various titles (I noticed that The Portrait of Markov was among them), username yurikatagiri7.

Natsuki's picture was a chibi cat against a polka-dot background (in a similar style to the stickers on the club poster), username mangaislit. Monikas photo was a selfie of her doing a peace sign dressed in summer clothing posing outside what looked like Tokyo Tower, username lilmonix3.

I scrolled through the previous chat logs. The last messages were from this morning, with Yuri declaring she would be absent for the day, and acknowledgements from the rest of the club. Swiping up, the earliest messages seemed to date back as far as a few months. 'How long has everyone known each other?' I kept thinking to myself as I read through a few of them.

The chats were nothing of particular interest to anyone but the club (and my snooping self). It was mostly just general conversation about the club and weekend activities (Monika seems to he a very social person, going out socially with friends. Does she ever invite the club?), and a few memes here and there.

I kept swiping through the chat, searching for my name.

Eventually, I found it.

lilmonix3: So whos the guy you want to bring to the club?

happy-thoughts: just someone i know, :)

lilmonix3: Is it a boooy? ;)

mangaislit: Sayori, don't be a mood killer! boys are trouble

yurikatagiri7: It wouldn't be terrible if there was a new member, even if they were male. Literature should be open to everyone and anyone, Natsuki.

mangaislit: hmmph

happy-thoughts: Hehe

lilmonix3: So who is it?

happy-thoughts: Well...his names Kazuma and hes been my best friend since we were kids. He really means a lot to me and Ive been trying to convince him to go

lilmonix3: Aww, he sounds nice! I think I had a Kazuma in one of my classes...

happy-thoughts: Im gonna try to get him to go on Monday. can you make cupcakes Natsuki?

mangaislit: Only if you pay me! =_=

happy-thoughts: do you take hugs as payment?

I looked up. The smell of the shabu-shabu wafted in my nose, distracting me from my reading. I set my phone down and eagerly began to dig into my meal.

As I ate, I remembered I still had to text a certain someone.

Using my free hand, I picked my phone back up and began to type in Natsuki's number.

Chapter 7: Stormclouds

Chapter Text

kodaka17: oh come on. Mitsuki is so like you!

mangaislit: no she isn't! Shut up!

kodaka17: she has pink hair and wears a red cljp

mangaislit: okayyy

kodaka17: and she loves to bake and read manga

mangaislit: yeah but

kodaka17: aaaand shes the shortest girl in the club!

A pause.

mangaislit: I am NOT short!

I had been texting Natsuki for most of the night, and I had to admit, it's turned out better than I had expected it to go (as in it was gonna be a brief, one-and-done, tsundere-style conversation). We went over what we were gonna be doing (researching what recipes we wanted to use and how to style them) and made plans for her to come over this Sunday (she seemed insistent that we do all the work at my house, which was sort of unusual but I didn't complain. I mean, wouldn't she not want to go over to a boy's house? I'm sure she's heard how those kinds of manga plots go, not that I would dare try anything of the sort.) After figuring out all the details of who would pay for what (myself eating most of the wages and being given the task of gathering most of the supplies), we broke out into a general chat about our anime series and our favorite mangas. At the moment we were waist-deep in our original conversation at the club about the Parfait Girls (where I slowly couldn't help notice the similarities between their culinary club and our literature club).

kodaka17: I'm just saying, there's so many similarities it's kind of creepy

mangaislit: Ever heard of a coincidence, dummy? (-_- )

kodaka17: that's kind of a lot of coincidences haha

I watched her typing icon flicker for a few moments.

mangaislit: um hang on, okay?

I paused.

kodaka17: sure, no problem

I put my phone down for a moment to stretch out, sighing in pleasure as I felt my spine relax and pop. I glanced outside and barely noticed that the sun has mostly set, the streetlamps outside starting to glare brightly. Christ, had I really not moved since I sat down? I spotted the half-empty Ramune bottle and noticed how dry my mouth was. I quickly snatched up the bottle and downed the contents.

Minutes passed, and not a single new message from Natsuki. I scrolled through our chat log and kept refreshing it, waiting for a new message to pop up. Nothing. 'I wonder what's keeping her?' I couldn't help but think.

I glanced at the bowl on my desk, the drippings of soup from the dish now drying up. 'Might as well take care of that.' I thought as I got up, scooping up the dish and empty Ramune bottle. I walked downstairs and set the bowl in the sink, turning on the tap to wash it out. As I washed, my mind drifted to my plans for Sunday, how early I'd have to get up and fetch her supplies (she said she wanted to come over in the morning). Have to get a nice wardrobe out and tidy up around here in general. I should probably ask if Mom and Dad are gonna be home…

I finished up the dishes and dried my hands off. I chucked the bottle in the trash and retreated upstairs. I returned to my room and walked over to my nightstand, turning on the radio. I gently cranked the knob and switched it to a random station. J-Pop...political roundtables... weather reports...I think I'll settle for some American rock.

I plopped back down into my chair and looked at my phone again, feeling my heart sink when I saw there was still no new messages from her, but several new ones had built up in the Literature Club chat. I tapped the notification.

lilmonix3: Okay, everyone! Hope you all know what you'll be doing tomorrow, because the next meet will be nothing but prepping for the festival. No poems, but make sure you have one to read for our presentation. Can't wait to see everyone! ❤️

yurikatagiri7: Noted. Thank you for reminding us. :)

happy-thoughts: thanks for the update Monni (^^)

lilmonix3: How many times must I tell you not to call me that? :|

happy-thoughts: awww, meany Monni! :`(

lilmonix3: Natsuki and Kazuma, did you two read this?

I started to type.

kodaka17: Yeah, thanks Monika. Me and Natsuki already figured out our plans. Looking forward to the festival :)

I swiped out of the chat and checked Natsuki's chat again. Last active 17 minutes ago.

Sighing, I clicked my phone off and tossed it onto my desk. I ran my fingers through my hair and slowly swiveled on my chair to face my room, noticing how slightly dirty it was. Dirty clothes slumped around, unorganized textbooks, and I still haven't emptied my waste bin. Certainly not the dirtiest room in the world, but it could use some tidying up.

I got up from my chair. Guess I'll start cleaning...

Soon a half hour passed. I felt myself grow worried. 'She's probably eating dinner or something.' I told myself. Yeah, her parents called her down to eat. But still, she at least would have texted me by now, right? Or maybe she's taking a shower or something. Or am I being too obsessive over this? Maybe. It's certainly nothing to worry about, at least. I could always talk to her tomo-

My phone buzzed. I quickly picked it up and read the notification. 'New message from Natsuki!' Almost hopping with excitement, I quickly tapped the message.

mangaislit: Sorry, my dad was calling me. Ill talk to you later. See you tmrrw. Find me at lunch. Dotn forget PG

And just like that, her profile clicked offline.

The rays of the morning sun peered in through my window, painful stakes digging through my eyelids into my eyeballs. I tossed on my bed, shielding my eyes from the light. Downstairs, the smell of breakfast wafted through my nose, the faint sounds of cooking oil sizzling and popping. My stomach rumbled, dreaming of eggs and bacon. My hands grasped out to my nightstand and picked up my phone, placing my finger on the back to unlock it. The first thing I saw was the row of dismissed alarms, one after another. My mind slowly started to spur.

What the hell? What time is…

9:22am.

I shot up in my bed, panicking. 'Shit, I overslept!' Class started well over an hour ago! Do Mom and Dad even know I'm here? They must think I already left, busy getting ready for their day. I threw my bedspread aside and shot up, rushing for the door. I listened in downstairs. A TV played, a male voice speaking in careful Japanese. I could hear faint, light music playing. And my Mom and Dad talking, but I couldn't make out their words.

So they're here. Shit. Ah, whatever. They'll know I'm here once I head downstairs. Maybe Dad can even give me a ride to school? I turned to my drawer and started pulling out a clean uniform, having just fallen asleep in yesterday's attire. I quickly buttoned up my blazer and went to the bathroom, combing my hair back into a respectable shape. I took a moment to check the rest of my notifications. I started quickly reading them and swiping away.

I stopped.

happy-thoughts: hey! Are we still walking together today? Getting time to go..

(2) missed calls from Sayori ️

happy-thoughts: oh well, your probably still asleep hehe ^_^

happy-thoughts: hope you come to the club today! ❤️

I felt my head start to swirl. I completely left Sayori hanging this morning. Fucking hell! Why did I stay up so late trying to finish Parfait Girls? Even if it was a good volume (which it kinda was), now Sayori probably thinks I'm ignoring her or something. I moan to myself, opening up her chat. I quickly hack out a message.

kodaka17: Hey, im really sorry I didn't wake up to walk today. Hope you weren't waiting too long. Can I make it up to you with cookies?

I pushed send and shoved my phone in my pocket. Gotta remember to wrap up a few cookies from the fridge from her now. I slung my bag over my shoulder and left my room, quietly shutting the door behind me. I slowly crept down the stairs, partially cloaked in darkness.

I walked downstairs. Rays of sunlight streamed in through the large wall-to-wall windows, glowing on the wood floors and furniture. On the table I could see my fathers laptop and suitcase, and my mother's various folders spread out.

¨Kazuma? Your still here?" My Dad said, surprised. Dad was a lean and polished man, and a little nerdy in appearance, with solid black glasses and neatly combed hair. He was dressed in his usual formal attire, black suit blazer with a stark white dress shirt, fat blue tie and gray dress pants.

"He's here?" I heard a soft female voice say. Mom. "Ooh, let me set him a plate."

I coughed. "I, uh, overslept, sorry. I was heading out right now." I moved to the door.

My mom emerged from the kitchen, a steaming plate in hand. "Nonsense! Eat. Can't have my son heading off for his studies on an empty stomach, can I?" My mom was a fairly short woman (about as tall as Sayori, I'd say), with a soft face and dazzling complexion. She had her black hair tied up in a small bun, a lightly greased-stained dull yellow apron wrapped around her. She was wearing a thin pink sweater beneath it, not yet changed into her formal arrite yet.

She held the plate and a tall glass of orange juice out to me, a smile on her face. I thankfully took the plate and drink and kissed her on the cheek. "Oishi-sō. Arigato." I set it down on the table in the seat to the left of my father, his attention returned to the television. I set my bag next to my chair, resigned. 'Well, I'm late anyway and the school stopped serving breakfast by now. Might as well eat.' I thought to myself as I sat down.

I suddenly remembered about the cookies. I got up from my chair. "What's wrong?" My mom asked, hovering by the kitchen, undoing her apron to hang it up.

I stepped into the small area of the kitchen and opened the fridge. "Nothing, mom. Just getting a little treat for someone." I plucked out a few chocolate chip cookies from a tray. I looked around, searching for a chilled coffee drink for myself.

"Ah, whos it for?"

I opened up a drawer and pull out a thin box of plastic wrap, tearing off a sheet. "Oh, just Sayori."

"Awww, how sweet of you. How is she these days? You never talk about her as much anymore. How is her mother?" Mom asked, putting the dirty pan in the sink and turning on the tap. "I'd love to invite her over for tea like we used to."

I paused, carefully thinking of my answer. "Well, I'm not sure about her mother, but Sayori's been good. She's been walking with me to and from school these past few weeks. She made me join one of her clubs at school, and it's been a lot of fun."

"Really?" Mom said, a little surprised. "You didn't tell us you were in a club now. What club is it?"

"A literature club."

Dad glanced away from the TV. "A literature club, huh? How interesting! You know, your old man was the president of his schools literature club. I wrote a short story that ended up going to the final level of this fancy literature contest in Kyoto, and I won an award the size of", he gestured with his fork to the TV, "that TV!" He paused to take a bite of his eggs. "Perhaps a bit impractically sized, but it earned me all the more bragging rights!" He pulled his closed laptop sitting on the table towards him. "Let me pull up the PDF I have…"

"Oh sweetie, spare him the story. You try showing off that story every chance you get." my Mom said, laughing.

"Aw, come on now, Miki. That story is something to be proud of! It brought one of the judges to tears when he read it! If our boys in a literature club, he could benefit from taking a few notes from a pro.", my Dad said with a grin. He turned back to his laptop, feverishly typing away.

I smiled, folding the wrapping up. I gently tucked it into my pocket.

Mom bent down to put the pan away, and focused on wiping down the sink. "So who's all in this club, Kazuma?"

"Oh, well…" I said, returning to my seat. "Just myself, Sayori and three other girls."

My father glanced up, looking at me over his glasses. "Your the only boy? I'm hoping you know your manners..." He said, giving me a stern look.

I felt myself go hot with embarrassment. "O-of course! They've been really nice, and I've already written a few poems as a starting assignment."

My dad nodded in approval. "That's good to hear. Good to see my boy flexing his creative muscle." He said with a smile. He returned down to his almost-finished plate.

I glanced up at the small flat-screen television hanging up on the wall, above a bookshelf. Prime Minister Shinzo Abe stood at a podium, microphones surrounding him, the news headline talking about a ceremony honoring the veteran members in his political cabinet. I watched the smaller news banner roll across the screen, detailing both Japan and world news.

My mind clicked back to Natsuki and I realized I technically haven't even asked if it was okay for someone to even come over at all. Not like there would be a major problem (Its not like I'm throwing a party or something), but still…

I coughed. "Um, since I have you both here, I need to ask you something."

Mom glanced up from the kitchen, behind the island counter. "What is it?" she said. Dad shut his laptop, showing his full attention.

I continued. "Well...our club is supposed to present in this big school festival thing next week, and everyone in the club is supposed to help with decorations and setting up our booth. I'm working with a girl who's supposed to bake snacks and stuff to offer to students, and I was wondering if…" I gripped my fork. "if it would be okay for her to come over on Sunday? If that's okay."

Dad adjusted his glasses. "What's the girls name?"

"Natsuki."

"Why can't she make the snacks at her house and you go over?"

I paused, not really having an answer. "She just said it would be easier, because I live a lot closer to the school than her and, um, her dad doesn't let boys over…" An uncomfortable silence followed.

Dad glanced up at Mom, who said nothing, only shrugged slightly.

"How long would she be over?" Mom asked.

"She wanted to come over in the morning and leave by, like, dinner-ish. We were gonna make a lot of stuff so it would take a while."

Mom took a seat at the far end of the table. "Well, this is rather convenient." I paused, expecting her next words to be a shutdown of my plans. "How so?" I said.

My Dad picked up his empty glass and plate, heading over to the kitchen. "Well, your mother and I got word today that we were supposed to drive to Chiba for work training for some new equipment they're supposed to be implementing, and we would be gone for the weekend plus another day or two. We were going to tell you after school that you'd be on your own for this weekend, but…" Dad shrugged. "Here we are."

I pulled up my mental map of Japan. Chiba, a port city, was about 15 miles or so from here. Same-ish distance from here to Tokyo. Maybe a thirty minute drive or so. I had never been, but I think Mom and Dad had been there a few times before for work-related stuff.

"So, yes, you can invite this girl over." my Mom said with a definitive air.

From the kitchen, my Dad added, "That is, on one condition."

I braced myself. ¨Yes?"

Dad returned to his spot, and looked me dead-serious in the eyes. ¨Can you promise to keep your hands to yourself? You know we can´t afford to raise your chi-¨

I feel my cheeks go red. ¨Dad!" I practically shouted. Dad and Mom started laughing. Despite myself, I awkwardly laughed as well. Dad flickered down to his smartwatch. "Oh, shoot. It's getting to be around ten." He looked at Mom. "I could drive him to school then come back and we'll head out."

Mom smiled. "Sure, that gives me time to change."

Dad stood up, pushing his chair in. "Ready to go?" He said to me. I glanced down at my plate and realized I hardly touched it. "Oh sure, just, uh…" I picked up my fork and shoveled a cut-up egg into my mouth, took a few bites from a piece of toast, and tore a chunk from a bacon. "Let me put this away." I said, mouth almost full. I picked up the plate and glass and headed to the kitchen.

Dad chuckled, grabbing his keys from the shelf. "Remember to chew, son." I quickly swallowed down the mishmash of food, took a big swig of juice and put it in the fridge. I walked back to the table and grabbed my bag. "Let's go."

Dad gave Mom a quick peck on her cheek and moved to the door. I hugged my Mom. "Hands to yourself, Kazuma." My mom whispered into my ear. "Mooom." I muttered, blushing. She laughed. "Have fun at school!" she said as I released the hug. She gave a light wave as she closed the door behind us, hearing it clack and lock.

We turned and started heading to the car.

"Well, here we are."

Dad pulled the car up by the gate, idling in a stretch of empty road along the sidewalk. I picked my bag up and pulled it over my shoulder. My dad was adjusting the radio back to his favorite station (a political fireside chat). "Remember what your mother said, Kazuma. Hands. To. Yourself."

I scoffed. "Dad, you know I'd never dream of doing anything forceful."

My Dad nodded. "I know, we raised you right. To always look out for others. Just...keep it in mind. And be courteous. Make her something to eat before she arrives, tidy up a bit around the house. Be a gentlemen."

I smiled. "Thanks, Dad." I stuck my hand out and he firmly shook it. "Have a good day. See you by Tuesday. Mom and I will text you." I nodded and opened the door up, stepping out onto the road. I shut it behind me and gave a parting wave, watching my dad pull out and start to drive off. I watched his car zoom by, and turned to walk to the gate.

I punched in the code to open the electronic gate (it locks once school starts to keep students in and keep undesirables out) and stood back as it a automatically opened. I started to walk up to the doors and heard it silently click back to lock.

I swung open the doors and walked through the lobby of the school, a three story, modern architecture area with exposed support columns and lots of floral decorations. I approached the main office and opened the door. A younger female student (looked like a first year) with a blue streak in her dark hair and a miffed expression on her face stared down at her phone. She glanced up at me and quickly returned to her device. I walked up to the main desk.

"Hello. I need an admission to class, please." I said politely to the receptionist, an older woman wearing a maroon office suit. She propped open her chunky black laptop and started to type.

"Name?"

"Kazuma Odaka."

"Student number?"

"0734"

"ID?"

I reached into my wallet and pulled out my school-issued identification card. She glanced down at it and handed it back, typing away.

"Reason for tardiness?"

"I woke up late."

She clicked her tongue. "You should consider an alarm."

I hugged through my nose. "I have one. It didn't go off."

She said nothing, still typing. Was she writing a book or something? How long does it take to-

A small, black device on her desk buzzed, a red light shining faintly. A thin piece of paper slowly printed out, the schools emblem adorning the top. She waited for it to fully print and ripped it free, handing it to me. I gently took the paper.

"Arigato. Yoi ichi nichi o." I said, turning away. The receptionist said nothing, typing away again. I sighed and nodded to the girl, and returned to the lobby.

Naturally the hallways were deserted as class was already in session. I slowly walked past the closed doors, faintly hearing the conversations in each one. I listened to my shoes clack...clack...clack against the checkerboard linoleum hallway. My current period, Computer Science, was upstairs. I quickly made my way up the stairwell to the second floor, and walked to the class. I took a moment to check my phone a final time before hastily putting it in my bag. I took a deep breath, before knocking on the door.

A pause.

"You may enter." A male voice said.

I turned the knob and stepped into the class. A dozen student faces were looking up at me from their terminals, most returning to their computers when they recognized me. Just Kazuma.

Mr. Frink, my instructor, was an Eastern European man, 40 something, with thin brown hair and thick black glasses. He was standing at the front of the room, a textbook in hand. He turned to me and gave me a polite smile. "Ah, Mr. Odaka, how pleasant of you to finally join us." he said, voice laced with slight annoyance. Tardiness was always looked down upon and viewed as a disrespect to the teacher.

I gave a light bow. "My apologies, sir. My alarm failed to go off this morning." I pulled out the admission paper and handed it to him. He glanced at it and tucked it into his shirt pocket. "I'd consider getting a new one. Please take a seat. We were finishing up our review paper from last class. Due at the end of the period."

I nodded and quickly walked to my assigned booth near the corner of the class, offering a great window view of the town ahead. A sleek gray desktop computer sat, a wireless mouse and keyboard to match. I set my bag down and started powering it up. Beside me was Shinichi, one of my 'anime' friends. He was busy typing away at his terminal, with a billion different tabs open and white earbuds on. He glanced over to me and leaned over.

"Nice of you to show up, Kazuma." He said, keeping his voice to a near-whsiper.

"Stuff it, Ozaki. I woke up late." I said, pulling out my binder from my bag.

"Too busy reading those erotic mangas, huh?" He snickered.

The login window popped up. I quickly typed in my credentials and logged in. Within a few seconds my home page popped up. I opened up my documents and clicked open my draft. I started to type.

"No. Unlike you, I was up talking to a girl."

"Ooooh, watch out everyone. We got a real charmer on our hands." He said, not looking away from his screen.

A pause.

"So, who's the girl huh? Anyone I know?"

"I don't think so. I met her at a club a week ago." I paused. "She's into manga."

"Cool. You should try bringing her to the anime club. We could use a little female company." He said, jokingly.

I laughed, keeping my voice quiet. "What, and have you try to swoop in and be a creep? Not on your-"

"Gentlemen." Mr. Frink said from the back of the room, his voice stern and cold. We both looked up. He made a gesture. "Work."

We both nodded. "Apologies, sir." Shinichi said, cutting me off. "I was just refamiliarizing Kazuma on what we're doing." Mr. Frink sat down at his desk.

"He shouldn't need 'refamiliarizing'. He should be working." He started to type away at his personal computer, ending the conversation.

Shinichi looked at me. I shrugged. "Whatever." he said, returning back to his work.

I continued to type.

The second period bell rang, and I quickly picked up the rest of my papers and shoved them into my bag. I quickly logged off my terminal and slung my bag over my shoulder, nodded to Mr. Frink and headed out. Students are already shuffling out their classrooms, moving against and with each other to get to their class. I took a moment to glance down at my phone, greeted to a few notifications (including a message from Natsuki, which made my heart skip a beat).

I went back to my chat logs…Sayori still hasn't opened my message yet. I felt myself grow worried. 'She probably just has it turned off or something, and I'll still see her at the…'

Through the heads of students, I could see a familiar swirl of coral pink hair, with a vibrant red bow atop it all. Sayori!

"Hey! Sayori!" I call out to her, ignoring the looks of students nearby.

I see her head turn, but quickly turn back. She moves away.

Is she...is she avoiding me? Maybe she just doesn't…

"Sayori!" I called out, a little louder.

This time, she turns around fully. We lock eyes. I see a trace of...fear in her eyes, before warping to happiness. She waves and beckons me over. I smile and start to move through the students. She moves aside near a water fountain, separate from the rush of students. I rush to join her. She's sort of looking around, not really meeting her eyes to me.

"Hey, sorry about this morning. Did you get my text?" I said, reaching my hand into my pocket with the cookies.

"Oh, ahhh…" she seemed to trail off. "My, um, phone is dead. It unplugged in the middle of the night."

'That...doesn't quite make sense.' I think to myself. If her phone was dead, how did she call me in the morning? Maybe she charged it for a little bit?

"Ah, it doesn't matter." I pull out the wrapped cookies, and hand it to her. "I got you something as a makeup gift, heh. These were your favorite kind as a kid, remember? With white chocolate chips."

She looked up at me. Her cheeks and eyes were slightly puffy red, with a hint of concealer dashed around. It wasn't quite working, and it seems like a generously amount was used to try and conceal it.

What happened?

"S-Sayori, are you okay? Your eyes are…"

"Oh." She blushes, a hot wave of embarrassment washing over her. "I think I'm sick or something. I'm not sure if I'll make it to the club meet, I might go home early. I'll put it in the group chat." She gingerly takes the cookies and slips them into her blazer pocket. "Thank you, 'zuma. Your always looking out for me."

She gives me a hug and starts to walk away, but I put a hand on her shoulder. "Sayori, were you crying? What's wrong?"

She almost shakes me off. I feel my heart shatter.

"No-no, I'm fine. I'm just...sick. I...I gotta get to class. I'll talk to you later." She moves away, almost hastily walking down the hallway. In a few seconds, she turns the corner and disappears.

Leaving me standing in the middle of an near-empty hallway, my mind spinning with worry.

"I just don't know what to think at this point."

"Have you talked to her about it?"

"No, not really. But I've been worried about her."

Natsuki and I were sitting at the same spot we had lunch at yesterday, overlooking the main foyer. The rays of sunlight shined down on our table, reflecting in her short pink hair. It gave her an angelic quality, and she looked beautiful.

She took a bite from her sandwich. I took a moment to drink some of my butajiru stew. "Has she said anything to you?"

"No, not really. You?"

She shook her head, sipping her iced glass of water.

"Should we bring it up to Monika? She is the club president, and she's always told us to go to her if there's any problems."

I paused, swirling my stew around with my spoon. "I don't know, because I'm not sure if there's even a problem at all. It could just be my head messing with me or something." I took another bite.

Natsuki looked down at her half-eaten sandwich, a thoughtful look on her face. "Well...maybe you should try talking to her first and getting a better sense of her head. You two were best friends, right?"

I paused. "We're?"

She shook her head. "Sorry, 'are'."

"Well, yeah. Friends since we were, like, 7. We grew up a block away from each other."

"Okay, so y'all would have hung out and stuff right? Gone to each other's houses?"

"Yes…"

"So try seeing if you can go over today or tomorrow. Hang out, y'know. Do stuff." Her cheeks showed a trace of blush. "Try to ask her questions about what's going on with her life, and see how she feels. And if it doesn't work, just flat out say what you think is going on."

I looked up at Natsuki. "That's a great idea. I'll text her after lunch. Thank you for suggesting that."

Natsuki smiled, enjoying the compliment.

I tried to switch gears. "Hey, also my parents said it was okay for you to come over for Sunday. I'll send you my address later."

She smiled. "Cool. And did you read Parfait Girls?"

I pulled up my bag and set it next to me. I unzipped it and pulled out the volume, damage-free. "Yes. I spent all night reading it, actually. I ended up waking up late this morning."

Natsuki laughed. "You dummy! Dont be like me and just do nothing but read all night. You could've just read it in the morning, you know."

I shrugged, putting it back into my bag. "I know, but I wanted to finish it." I took a sip of my Ramune soda, poured into a glass. "I have to admit, I thought it was gonna be kinda boring, but it's actually really interesting. I can't wait to keep reading with you." I paused. "Thank you."

Natsuki blushed. "H-hey, don't make me feel weird about it. It's...b-been fun reading it with you. Everytime I show it to people, they always just brush it off and never give it a chance. So, thanks yourself."

The lunch bell rang and the cafeteria became alive with activity. I stood up and took out two trays and dumped them, then walked Natsuki downstairs. I said my goodbyes to her and watched her walk away. I stepped outside the cafeteria and pulled my phone, and noticed there were a few text messages. It was from the Literature Club chat, from a few minutes ago. Not sure why I didn't feel my phone go off...

happy-thoughts: hey Im reaaally sorry but I won't be able to make it to the club today. Im feeling sick and I've asked to be sent home. still gonna try do my part for the festival ❤️

lilmonix3: Hey don't stress yourself! If you can't make stuff just don't worry, we'll work around it. Thank you for telling us. Hope you feel better soon! ? ゚リハ

yurikatagiri7: How unfortunate. I hope you start to feel better soon, Sayori. :)

So she's already going home. On a normal basis, I won't be seeing her till the day of the festival, three days from now. If this is something seriously, I can't hesitate to wait. I was gonna be home alone anyway, so not like I need to ask permission from Mom and Dad to stay late somewhere...

I pulled up her chat and started to type.

kodaka17: Hey, is it okay if I go over to your house after school? Maybe we could watch a movie like old times?

Her response was near-immediate.

happy-thoughts: I'd like that. I'll make snacks hehe (^^) see you then

I smiled, and shoved my phone into my pocket. I was going to get to the bottom of this, and make things right.

I started my walk to my next class.

Chapter 8: Happy Thoughts

Chapter Text

The sun glistened through the branches in criss-cross patterns on the dew-dripped grass. A cool breeze blew in my face, green leaves swirling around me. I stopped for a moment, taking in the peaceful setting.

The park was pretty big for our small town, a few acres or something. Green-and-yellow waste bins and polished wood benches dotted along the crackless sidewalks, people young and old merrily strolling along it. I could hear the sounds of people laughing, dogs barking and just up ahead, the soft gurgling of a stream, muffled through the tree trunks.

Sayori, my best friend, wearing a frilly yellow summer dress and a small red flower band in her hair, tugged at my sleeve. "Come on, 'zuma! This wayyy!" she said, her bright voice almost pleading. She had a polka-dotted backpack hoisted on her shoulders, packed to the brim with various food and stuff we planned out together. I rolled my eyes. "Okay, okay." I replied, trying not to trip over my own feet. Sayori gave me a wide smile, and started to pick up her pace, myself bumbling along.

In a few moments, she stopped. She seemed to glance around, uncertain of where she was. For a moment, I thought I had to call Mom for help to get us out of here. She parted away a branch and motioned for me to walk ahead.

I gasped. "Oh wow."

The clearing was small, but the perfect size for a picnic mat. The sunlight shone down on one huge ray on a perfect match of grass, not too close to the river to where we might fall in but just close enough to where we could smell the rich, sweet water gushing. It was majestic.

Sayori said nothing, set her bag down on the grass. She zipped it open and pulled out a neatly-folded pink blanket, that went fwoop! as she set it down. She took a few rocks and put them on the corners.

I kneeled down next to her, pulling out our meals.

In a few minutes, we had everything laid out before us; drinks, food, cookies, napkins, and a few books to read together. We ate first, in relative silence, both of us enjoying the sun and the breezes. It had to be one of the best days of the spring.

"Kazuma?" Sayori said, looking at me. I glanced up from my book, leaning up against a boulder. It was sort of rare for her to use my full name, so this was a bit if a surprise.

"Yeah?" I said, taking a sip from my soda bottle.

"Um…" she said, trailing off.

I blinked.

I was back in the present, standing outside the front door of Sayori's house. In my hand I was gripping a plastic bag filled with some candies and chocolates, plus a bottle of juice.

I looked around, trying to regain my bearings.

That memory was almost 10 years old.

Where did the time go? What happened?

We still loved to hang out after that, always bugging out parents to let us go to each other's houses and to order us a pizza and rent us a cool movie to watch. Snuggled up under the cover of a dozen or more blankets in mine (or her) room. Propped up against the wall on our bed with all our snacks and goodies spread out before us, the window blinds drawn and the lights off, only the glare of the television lighting the room.

For those serene years, I didn't have a real care in the world. I had my basic schoolwork, I had my chores, and I had the basic struggles of childhood (like there not being enough milk for a bowl of cereal). But back then, I always thought Sayori would be there with me through it all, through our high school years and beyond. Things would never change.

Things did change, after a while. When we started our first year of high school, Sayori started waking up later and later in the mornings. I'd wait outside her house for a couple of minutes, she'd text me something like "ill be down in a few minutes!", which would turn into ten minutes, and then she'd text "you can go on ahead, im in the shower!" or something like that.

Once, I went a whole week without seeing her in the mornings. I'd usually walk with her back home from school, and try questioning her on why she was so late. She'd just...blow it off. Or make a joke of it.

After a while, I stopped waiting for her. I had to get to school.

Prior to her starting to walk with me to school again, we last texted maybe three weeks ago, and saw each other in the hallway a week before. When I saw her, she seemed as normal as a student could be. She smiled, said hi and kept on with her business. A part of me felt...wounded. I was glad she was doing okay (that was the jist I got, at least), but a part of me wanted to keep talking to her. To re-spark that 'flame' we had, to just start going out together and eating together and back to being the best of friends.

Despite my initial pushback, I was secretly happy that Sayori made me join the Literature Club. I was talking to her more on a daily than I had in the past month. And now, we were going to hang out again, like old times, like we used to.

But still, I felt as if something lingered.

Something...warped.

I knocked on the door. I waited a few moments. In the peephole, I could see a fragment of light show before being sealed back up (the cover opening), before I heard a jangle of locks open up. The door opened.

There she was. Wearing a light pink shirt, jean shorts and her long white uniform socks. Coral pink hair slightly ruffled, her signature red bow tilted to the side. Sayori.

She gave me a light smile. "H-hi." she squeaked out.

I returned the smile. "Hey." I lifted my bag up. "I brought a little something. Just some chocolates and a drink. It's all I had in the fridge that I knew you'd like."

Sayori blushed. "Ahehe, you know me too well, 'zuma.."

We stood in silence for a moment. A car buzzed by.

"May I come in?"

Sayori's house was, more or less, about the same as it was when we were kids. The living room was generously furnished, with two comfortable sofas and a reclining chair, bookcases lined with magazines and books along the walls. A massive, boxy television (looked imported) sat, several game consoles resting on top (for decoration or use, I wasn't sure). The kitchen was narrow, and very cluttered, with lots of old and new stains from cooking splattering the counters (how fun it was to bake stuff with her when we were children). Out towards the ground balcony, I could see a forest of green with splashes of red, yellow and blue plants.

I removed my shoes and set them on the mat by the door, She lingered by the staircase, waiting for me. Upstairs, I could hear a video playing.

"My, uh, parents left earlier to go out to eat, so we have the whole house to ourselves." She said with a slight smile. I followed her upstairs.

Sayori had already made a spread of blankets at the foot of her bed, bordered by her tall clothes closet. Most of the pillows and blankets are stripped from her bed and arranged onto the spread, pushed up against the closet. Sitting on her desk was a box of pizza, the cover opened and a slice missing.

"You already ordered food?", I said, putting down my bag next to the pizza. "You should've waited for me to get here, you know. I would have gladly paid for it."

She nods. "Ah, well...it's a little late for that now, huh? Aheheh."

I glanced up at the wide television set up against the wall on a short, long table. I recognized the DVD menu as Godzilla Resurgence, the latest entry in the series written by the famed Hideaki Anno, famous for creating the Neon Genesis: Evangelion series (a series I always slacked on sitting down and watching, despite the insistence of my friends as being 'god-tier'). The menu showed Godzilla, looking more sinister as he's ever been, against a blood-red backdrop. The classical 1954 theme played softly.

"Oooh, Godzilla huh? I haven't seen this one yet." I said, taking a spot down on her spread, leaving enough room for her to get cozy. She nods again. "Yeah, my parents got it for me. I hadn't opened it yet and thought, 'well, now's a better time than ever to watch it!' I heard it's really good."

Sayori joined me on the spread, folding the fuzzy blankets over her. She grabbed the juice bottle I had brought and snatched a cup, pouring herself a drink. She quickly capped it back up and took a sip. She smiled. "My favorite. Thank you, 'zuma."

I returned the smile. "I never forget. Ready?" I said, holding up the remote. She nodded.

I pressed 'play'.

The movie started. It was a pretty interesting movie, dripping with lots of political analogies and stuff like that. Certainly not what I was expecting when I hear the term 'monster movie', but a great film nonetheless.

As I watched the movie, I snuck glances over at Sayori, usually busy watching the movie or stuffing her face with some of the snacks spread out. In my head, Natsuki's words echoed. "Try to ask her questions about what's going on with her life, and see how she feels. And if it doesn't work, just flat out say what you think is going on."

Some time passed. The movie seemed to pick up a bit in tone, slowly introducing the main characters, with the first iteration of Hideaki Anno's Godzilla being revealed. I felt slight chills as I noticed how close it was in tone to the reaction of the Fukishima nuclear plant disaster, all those years back. How panicked my parents were when it happened, talking in hushed tones about it, talking about it at school with Sayori. Godzilla itself was an interesting take on the titular monster, but a solid and bold one (I liked it better than the one that came out in the United States a few years back).

I glanced up at Sayori. Through the darkness, I could see teardrops trickle down Sayori's cheek, glinting in the glow of the television.

I grabbed the remote and paused the movie. I looked at her. "Sayori, are you okay?"

She looked up at me, surprised. She gingerly touched the tears with her finger, and laughed weakly. "Oh, haha. It's just the movie. It's, um, really good…" she said, grabbing a piece of chocolate.

"Sayori, what's wrong?"

"Hm?" She said, still holding her chocolate piece.

I was looking at her directly. "I'm serious. I'm worried about you."

She paused. "Wh-what do you mean, 'zuma?"

I glanced away, sighing. "Sayori, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried about you. I feel like something's going on that you aren't telling me. I say again, are you alright?"

She smiled weakly. "I...it's nothing. Really."

I shifted myself. "Sayori, I've known you since we could talk. You know you can tell me anything. Anything. That's what best friends are for. Please, tell me what's been going on with you."

She looked away, hiding her eyes. "I...I can't."

"Sayori, please." I said, almost pleading with her.

"Its..." she looks away, not wanting to look me directly.

I clutched her hand. "Sayori, whatever it is, whatever happened, nothing will change between us. I promise. You don't have to be afraid to tell me."

She was silent for a moment, tears building up in her eyes. She gently wiped them away with her finger. She laughs weakly. "That's what's wrong, 'zuma. Nothing happened to me...I've always been like this." She plays with the piece of chocolate in her hands, turning it over.

"What are you talking about?"

She's silent for a moment. "Kazuma...I've…", she painfully sucks in air through her teeth, as if she's just been cut by a dagger. "I've...had really bad depression for a while now. For at least five, ten years. Since we were kids. Since we were high schoolers. Since...now."

I'm speechless. "Sayori, I-"

She cuts me off. "Why do you think I was always late to school in the mornings? Why I always kept you waiting outside? Why I always looked for a reason to get out of you inviting me to go with you to places?" Tears rolled down her cheek.

"What's the point of even trying? What's the point of eating, of having friends, of going to school? What's the point of doing anything when you know how worthless you are?" Her voice cracks on that last sentence, tears tangling her voice. "Why punish you with having to put up with me all the time, to drag me along, to try and make me happy? It's pointless, and it does nothing."

I...I can't speak. My voice is locked in my throat, begging to be released. The TV clicks off, cloaking us in near-complete darkness. I get up and walk to the door, flicking on the light. I walk back to Sayori, and sit on the bed. I reach down and put my hand on her shoulder, and she looks up at me.

"Sit with me." I say. She slowly gets up and joins me.

I embrace her in a tight hug, arms wrapped around her. She squeaks in surprise, not sharing the hug. I can feel a teardrop drip onto my shoulder. "Kazuma...p-please…"

"Sayori." I say. I hold her closer. I can feel her warmth radiating on me, the smell of her hair conditioner wafting into my nose. I forced the tears in my eyes from escaping.

"Do you remember that time we went camping with our parents, maybe five years back? It was during the summer. We saved up our money for months and begged our parents every day to take us? We looked over that crappy brochure for months. Remember?"

She's silent for a moment. She sniffled. "Yeah."

"Do you remember when you wanted to go out exploring at night, after our parents fell asleep, even though I told you it was a bad idea, and we'd probably get lost?"

"Y-yeah…"

"And you ended up going off the trail and getting us lost, and our flashlight was about to die because you forgot to change the batteries, and you started crying, and I got scared because I thought you were gonna attract a bear or something?"

She laughed, despite herself. "Yeah...I thought you would be so mad."

"Do you remember what I said to you?"

She's silent again.

"I said, 'I'm always going to be here to help you, no matter what. It doesn't matter how big the problem or how big the foe, I was always going to be by your side, no matter what. And I would get you out of this.."

She sniffled again, wiped her nose with her sleeve. "Kazum-"

"Sayori, I can't possibly understand what it must be like to suffer through that. Having to deal with the thoughts that you are worthless, that nobody cares for you, that the world would be better off without you. I need you to know that those thoughts couldn't be farther from the truth."

I continued. "Sayori. Your parents are here for you. Natsuki is here for you. Yuri is here for you. Monika is here for you. I'm here for you. You don't have to fight this alone. You don't have to be scared. You don't have to keep this a secret."

I release the hug, and stared into her glassy blue eyes.

"You are not alone."

She stares at me for a moment, then her face turns into a frown. The tears stream down her cheeks, and she buries her face into my shirt. Ugly sobs emit from her, and I feel a wet spot growing on my shirt from her tears. I gently hold her against me, rubbing my hand down her hair, trying to soothe her.

I hold her for a few minutes. The entire world outside seemed to just fall apart. It was just me and Sayori, together, on that bed, in that room, separated from reality.

Eventually she looks back up at me. I try to dry her tears as best as I can with my sleeve.

"Sayori...I think we should tell the club about this."

At this, she shakes her head no. The tears threaten to come back.

"Kazuma, I can't."

"Sayori…"

"Please, 'zuma. At least not yet. I need time to be comfortable to tell them about all this."

"Sayori, they'll understand."

"I know, but, it was hard enough to even tell you the stuff you know now. I don't think I can handle having to deal with the three of them finding out, after I've kept it hidden from them as well for as long as I've known them. Just...wait till after the festival. Let everyone have fun for the night, then I'll tell them at the next club meeting. You can help me too, to tell them. Just not right now, please."

I'm silent, mulling over her words. It's ridiculous. How would they respond in any other way then sympathetic and supportive. Yuri, Natsuki and Monika wouldn't dare dream to view Sayori differently if she told them she had depression. They aren't those kinds of people.

But...I understand why Sayori wants to wait. It was hard enough for her to just tell me alone about all this, after keeping it hidden for so long. I can give her time, but I'll still remind her about it. And when the club does find out, I'll be there to help her.

"Okay...I understand. But I'm going to hold you to this. You aren't going to do this alone. I will be there for you.

She sniffles again, getting a napkin to blow her nose. She tosses it in a waste-bin. "I know... " She gets off the bed and sits down on the spread, getting cozy under the mass of blankets. She makes a motion for me to join her. I get up and go under with her. I grab the remote.

"Kazuma?"

"Yes?"

She gives me another hug. A long one. We sit there, embraced in each others arms. She slowly releases me.

"Thank you."

Snuggled up, I continued the movie.

We finished the movie an hour later, and after that mostly lazed around. Sayori and I laid out on the spread, talking and laughing and enjoying each other's company. Soon it got late, and I started to head out. I did most of the cleaning and tidied up her room a bit. She walked me down to the door, and I hugged her again, repeating my vow to always be by her side. Reluctantly, I left.

The walk home was one of the worst I've ever had. My gut felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, drudging me down. I tried to listen to music to distract myself, but it failed. I shoved my headphones back into my pocket and walked, leaving me with just my thoughts.

I slowly reached home. I unlocked the door and pushed it open, dropping my bag on the ground. The main lights were shut off, the TV unplugged. A single, dim light glowed in the kitchen, from the oven. I smelled something brewing in a pot, but I barely noticed it. The silence of the house was so deafening, I hardly made any noise as I walked in.

My mind swirled.

The full weight of this new revelation bore down on me. All at once.

Sayori.

How could I have never noticed? It was so obvious. Her distant stares, her constant tardiness, her lack of self-upkeep, some of the comments she would make...she was fighting a vicious battle inside. Her whole persona was just a sham. Inside that bubbly, smiling, laughing girl was a broken, damaged person.

Sayori.

I'm the worst fucking friend in the world. We spent our childhoods together, and I basically abandoned her right when it was getting worse. Left her to fight this evil on her own. How could I do this? I don't deserve Sayori. She needs a real friend. Like Monika. Or Natsuki. Or Yuri. How could I be like this?

Sayori.

No...no. I...I can't be all at fault, c-can I? She kept it a secret from me. I mean, of course she would. She felt ashamed of it. But it's nothing to be ashamed of. Sure, I didn't pick up on the little hint, but she never told me or mentioned anything about it to me. How could I know what was wrong if she never told me?

Sayori.

I...I could have helped her. Back then. I could've done everything in my power to keep her happy. I would waited hours for her in the mornings if it meant she got ten minutes of happiness. I would do everything for her. She, of all the people I've ever met, deserves happiness.

Sayori.

What am I saying? I can help her. I'm going to help her. I know better now. She told me. I'm here. The Literature Club is here. We're all here. I can help her. WE can help her. We can get through this, together. I have to be there for her. Now, more than ever.

I slowly walked into my room, dead silence filling my ears. I started to slowly unbutton my shirt, dropped it nonchalantly on the ground and sat down in my chair. I set my phone down and put my face in my hands, elbows resting on my desk.

I felt the first teardrop drip into my palms.

Chapter 9: Ohayou Yuri!

Notes:

The lyrics at the intro are from a song called 'The End of the World', more specifically the cover by Sharon von Etten for the TV-drama "The Man in the High Castle". I recommend listening to it before reading, to get a better feel.

Chapter Text

The radio was playing some indescript tune. My eyes still squinted half-shut, I grasped out to the wall and yanked the radio plug out of its socket. I reached out for my phone, and flickered to the home screen. A few minutes past 11'am.

I groggily propped myself up on my bed, and took a moment to stretch. Streams of sunlight were dashed across the blue-black late morning sky, streaks of pink-orange coating the clouds. I rubbed away the rocks built up in my eyes, feeling the streams of dried tears on my cheeks. I tossed my wad of blankets off and stood up, walked over to the bathroom.

I had spent just about most of the night thinking over what Sayori had to revealed to me. I'm man enough to admit that I cried, the full shock and weight of her revelation bearing down on me like a pile of bricks. I sat motionless at my desk thinking over all our experiences together. How it all seemed so innocent and lax back then, now tainted with the fact Sayori was struggling inside and trying to keep herself happy so I wouldn't be displeased.

I sighed. 'So I wouldn't be displeased'.

I finished up in the bathroom and stepped back into my room, stripping off my night wardrobe. I slipped into a pair of black sweatpants and a navy blue T-shirt with my school's logo adorning it (a four leaf clover with a yellow circular border). I put my phone on top of my drawer and stepped into the dimly-lit hallway.

Once I was done feeling sorry for myself, I started to think about life from here on out. How much should I hang out with her that doesn't feel forceful to her? When are we (or she) going to reveal her 'sickness' to the club? To her parents? Do her parents even know about any of this? Or is she keeping it a secret from them as well? I can understand not telling the club, but, like...those are her parents. It's different.

I walked down into the living room. I had kept the lights off and most of the electronics unplugged to conserve power (a habit I picked up from my father). I started to pace around and replug the ones I was going to use.

I know she had told me to not tell anyone in the club about this, but still...it doesn't feel like the best way to do things. I know for a fact they would be 100% supportive and understanding about this. They would be there to help her, and be just as concerned (if not more) about her than I am. But...I had to respect her wishes and do things at her own pace, however fast or slow that may be.

I walked into the kitchen and flicked on the light. I opened the fridge and reached for a box of pancake batter, setting it on the counter. I pulled out other stuff I'd need; syrup, strawberries, whip cream, maybe even a little chocolate shavings for an extra kick.

Should I call her today? Try to make plans again? Would she like that? Or would I be putting her through more unnecessary pain, trying to keep up her false happiness act? But...she doesn't have to anymore, right? I know now. I know she doesn't enjoy putting me through her mopiness (even though that's never been the case), or she tries to but she usually doesn't.

I dug out a pan from the pantry and turned the oven on. A circle of blue pilot lights bloomed. While it warmed up, I started making the pancake batter. I reached for a batter whisker.

I...I still can't believe all this. I mean, I believe it, but I...how could I have never known? What kind of a person am I? Of course in the light of retrospective it all seemed so obvious, but I...just feel so evil. So twisted and vile. Is this right? Should I feel this way? Am I really her friend?

I poured a generous serving of pancake batter into the pan, which immediately began to bubble and pop from the heat. I stood there for a moment, listening to the batter begin to fry. The heat drifted across my face, brushing my eyes. I could hear the hum of the stove, the smell of sweet pancakes wafting into my nose.

O-of course I am, don't be stupid. I've always been her best friend, and she's always been mine. This is just...a hiccup. Yeah. All friendships and relationships have their hiccups, their bumps, their issues. And they always (well, more often than not) get resolved and the relationship is happier and stronger as a result. This is just a hiccup, that's all l. We will get past this together.

I reached up into the cupboard and pulled out a glass and plate. I poured myself a light glass of orange juice, and dug into another drawer for a pair of utensils.

'Lets see what on.' I thought, taking a spot at the dining table. I snatched up the small, grey remote and turned on the power. The TV flickered, and a cartoon show (looked kinda dated) popped up. I started scrolling through channels.

You know, I love my parents to death. They're the best people I know. But, in a weird sort of way, it's oddly liberating for them to not be here, even if it's for a few days. It's a taste of freedom, the eventual freedom I get when I go to university and (likely) move into a dorm or apartment of my own. It's a brush against being independent, being your own person, being able to make your own decisions without having to double check first or ask for permission and stuff.

I kept flicking through channels. Weather reports, local news stations, some schlocky mid-day TV dramas, nature shows, more kid-level cartoons. Is there anything good to watch these days? I switched over to a national-level news station.

On the screen, footage of North Korean leader Kim-Jung Un, with his short, slick black hair and pudgy face galore, huddled with a group of what looked like his military advisors overseeing one of his army centers. On an opposite screen, a female Japanese UN ambassador with flowing brown hair and gorgeous emerald eyes was talking, the headlines discussing new sanctions placed on the little isolated hermit nation. I set the remote down and started to eat. 'It'll have to do.'

I tried to stay focused on the news report (considering the way things were going with Jung Un and the new US President, who wouldn't be just a little interested in these talks?), but my thoughts still rolled back to Sayori.

I glanced down at my plate of half-eaten pancakes, the syrup already soaking into them, making them a slightly doughy/slightly firm mush. Maybe I should go bring her some? No harm in that, right? Just giving her breakfast. I still have some batter left. I mulled the thought over for a moment. I played with one of the pancakes with my fork.

...no. What an awful idea. These pancakes are kinda shitty, anyway. I took a sip of my drink to rinse the taste from my mouth. Too much batter. 'I'd be doing her a disservice', I thought to myself. This is the kind of cooking Natsuki would turn her cute little nose away from in disgust.

I almost dropped my fork.

Natsuki.

Jesus, how the hell could I forget? She was coming over tomorrow to bake for the festival! I still had to get a shitton of supplies she wanted, and that would take at least half the day to do. Internally, I laughed. 'I can't even get pancakes to taste good and here I am, going to bake cupcakes for a whole school.' I swiped up my plate and dumped the rest in the trash, putting the plate in the sink.

I hustled up the stairs. I snatched up my phone and tapped back to my last chat with Natsuki. She had sent me a carefully typed out list of various supplies, with the shop name of where to get them and their prices. I scrolled through it again, reading each one.

I glanced at my solid black laptop sitting on my desk, the screen closed. The charger port hung off the edge of the desk, the outlet plugged in.

Quickly, I sat down at my chair, propped it open, and started to type.

...

I stepped out in front of my wall-to-wall mirror, inspecting my wardrobe. My hair was combed back and to the side slightly, touched in place with a dab of gel and a spritz of hairspray. I was wearing a sleek, pressed black sweater with a white collar shirt underneath, with a pair of loose fit jeans and brown dress shoes to match.

I adjusted the sunglasses hanging from my collar. A very professional look, even if it's kinda going overboard. After all, I'm just going grocery shopping. Then again, if I run into somebody, I'd want to look good, no?

I glanced down to my phone, checking my Maps app. A five minute walk to the train station, then a forty-ish minute train ride to Tokyo. I rushed down into the kitchen and opened up a pantry. I snatched up two neatly-folded woven bags tucked away, and slammed the door shut. I grabbed my spare keys off the table, opened the door, took a parting glance around the living area, and left. The time was a quarter to 1.

The air was very cool (maybe 65 degrees) with light breezes, the sky still clinging to a hazy overcast. The streets were relatively empty, with a few cars whizzing on by, a few odd personas walking up and down the streets. I paused, feeling the wind blow against my cheeks, smiling. I twirled my house keys on my finger for a moment, hooking them to my belt loop. I dug out my headphones and started my walk.

'Todays gonna be a good day. I can feel it.'

The walk was a very brisk one, but pleasant. I passed by a few local shops just opening up for the day, nodded and kept on. The bus stop was sparsely populated, with only a bushy-bearded man (looked like an American) in a brown suit, a young couple with their bouncing baby girl and an elder woman with her foldable grocery basket waiting at the benches. I took a spot at an empty bench the furthest away and returned to my music.

The train silently pulled into the station, a silver line of cars with a blue-yellow stripe going all the way to the back. I paused, waiting for it to come to a stop. Everyone slowly boarded, paid their fare, and found a seat. The train was more packed, seats occupied by a mishmash of faces young and old, looking down at their phones and laptops. I walked towards the near back, where it was mostly deserted and took a window spot. I set my bags down and took out my phone.

A half hour later, the train soon reached the city limits of Tokyo, Japan's great capital. A mile or so away, towering above the forest of low buildings was the Tokyo Skytree, a bulky, metal-sheathed observation tower some 300 feet taller than America's World Trade Center. The twisting tower loomed above my little traincar, what remained of the overcast drifting across the thick spire on the roof. I pressed my face to the window, trying to take in it's full height. My eyes looked it up and down before the train passed it, speeding further into downtown.

In a minute, the train pulled into the main station hub. When it clicked to a stop, the train became alive, everyone trying to get out all at once. I waited for most people to leave before exiting myself. The station was swarming with people, moving about the little stores and heading out of the station into the city. I unplugged my headphones, paying more attention to my surroundings.

Sunlight breaking through the overcast shined through the open-ceiling roof. I mingled with the crowd, my empty bags clutched in my hand. I walked downstairs and reached the main plaza, where about a dozen people were enjoying their brunches. Metal tables and benches were spread out, a large water fountain crowning the center. I took a spot at an empty table, pulling out my phone.

I looked back to Natsuki's list. The first store was a few blocks away, and was due to open in a few minutes. I clicked my tongue. 'Should've taken a later train.'

Guess there's nothing else to do but wait.

Three hours later, both of my bags were stuffed to the brim. Natsuki's list had sent me running all over downtown, going to some of the most obscure shops that I couldn't have imagined someone like Natsuki going to. I did strike up a conversation with one of the shopkeepers, an elder man who, as shown in his tinted, aging photos hung up behind his counter, fought in the war. He immediately brightened up when I mentioned Natsuki sent me.

"Ah, Natsuki! Such a sweet girl! She has a keen eye for the best ingredients. I take it your her boyfriend?" he told me, taking a spot at his stool at the counter.

I felt myself blush. "Haha, no. Just a friend of hers." I awkwardly adjusted the bags in my hand.

He seemed surprised. "Really? A handsome fellow like yourself. You look like her type."

I laughed, trying to swing away from the topic. "I can assure you it's not like that. We're making snacks for school tomorrow together, and she told me to get the batter she needs here."

The man smiled. "A girl like her knows where to find the best! I've been in this business since after the war, when the Americans came in and rebuilt Tokyo from the ground up." He got up, going to his backroom, still talking.

"I value myself in my products, it's like a little piece of me. I always get up in the morning and head down to the market, for first picks." I could hear shuffling, a box falling. "Only the most brilliant and observant of eyes know where to find the freshest, the sweetest, the best of the best. Keen eyes, that girl."

As he talked, I took a moment to look more at the photos hanging up. In one I could see a group of men sitting down at a makeshift table (in a war setting), the Imperial flag of Japan hanging behind them. I squinted to read the date. Aug 1943. They all had bright, wide smiles, holding their MREs up for the camera to photograph. True camaraderie and brotherhood, even if they were fighting for the wrong reasons, and they ended up losing the war a year or so later. I wonder how many in that photo lived to see the day...

He returned, holding another box of the batter I bought. He sets it down on the counter, slides it my way. "It's free. Tell her I said hello, if it's not too much trouble." I thanked him with a bow, took the box, and left.

I left the shop and started walking. By now the sun had broken up most of the overcast, the clouds offering no protection from the midday heat. Several blocks away, the red-white Tokyo Tower loomed, the structure glimmering in the sun's rays. The foot traffic was intense, as I had to squeeze my way through the crowds of businessmen and women, probably on their lunch breaks.

I reached a small market square, with rows and rows of trader booths and stands behind the gated entrance. A small water fountain with a spherical gold statue marked the entrance, encircled by benches. I sat down at one, setting my bags at my feet. I took a moment to catch my breath, and took out my phone. I scrolled to the Maps app, refreshed it...the next train back to Ichikawa wasnt due for another half hour. I sighed, slowly put my phone away. I dug into my bag and grabbed my unopened Ramune soda bottle, popped the top, and took a long swig.

My eyes glazed around, eyeing the market. People were huddled around various booths, inspecting the foods and products the vendors had to offer. Fresh fish, ripe fruits, knick-knacks for the rich foreigners, the works. Farther inside, I could hear lively music, sounded like a band and not just a recording. I shifted in my seat. I looked around more.

Various buildings surrounded me. My eyes fell upon a small bookstore, the glass door propped open. Some people were sitting at the shaded tables outside of the entrance, gated off. Underneath the green-white "Junichiro Bookshop/Amenities" sign was a more crudely-printed "New Shipments!" banner, in Japanese. Through the window, I could see a cluster of people standing around, unmoving. From here, I couldn't tell what they were doing; I only saw their upper bodies.

I watched the activity in the window with vague interest. I checked the time again. 'I guess I could browse around.' I thought, standing up and grabbing my bags. How convenient this is, thinking about it more. After finishing My Hero Academia (so far), I was interested in checking out the manga that came before it and seeing how it stacks up to the show, and the 'new shipments' sign gave me an inkling of hope they may have it in stock. If not, I could always look at some other series they have. Either way, it would at least kill about a half hour.

I gathered my things and made my way across the street.

I stepped into the store, which was very homely in tone. Several rows of brown bookshelves stretched all the way to the back of the store. A step-up counter was to the left of the door, with a smaller bookshelf behind it. Various posters of treasured Japanese literature as well as some more classical art hung up around the walls. Handmade paper ornaments hung from the ceilings. I could hear faint classical music, heavy with harpsichords. The air was pleasant and slightly cool, with a distinguished smell of cherries.

In the very back, I could see about ten or so people huddled around a low table draped with a white sheet, with an older woman sitting behind it, dressed formally. A short stand was next to her, with a posterboard of a book cover depicting flames rising from a darkly-outlined mountain. Through the smoke, I could see the silhouette of some sort of kaiju, like King Ghidorah or something. The date of release was June 2018, next year. Azusa Sasaki was her name. 'An author.' I thought, absentmindedly. 'Must be a meet-and-greet.'

I wandered to the near back of the store, still holding my bags. My eyes followed the checkmarks organizing the various genres. Sure enough, there was a solid selection of manga resting on a shelf, in like-new condition. I bent down, scanning the titles. M...m...My Hero...aha! My finger touched a paperback set of the show, volumes 1-12. I carefully slid it from its spot and carried it with my free hand, the other two bags hanging from my other arm.

I walked up to the counter, holding the book in my hand. I slid it onto the counter and started pulling out some yen bills from my wallet. The woman behind the counter was fairly young (maybe a year or so older than me), with her hair tied into two braids resting on her chest. She quietly took my money and handed me a receipt. I started to head out the door, but my eyes returned to the group of people near the back.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I started to walk over to their congregation. I slowly crept up behind the group of people. Miss Sasaki was holding a book with what looked like the same cover on the poster-board stand. She was reading aloud…

"...Mimura could hear The Subjects heavy footsteps as it slowly strolled around.

She drew her gun close, checking the loadout. Still a few rounds left, but not like it mattered. Yards away, she could hear a deep snuffling sound, like a horse or a pig. Claws scratched across the metal floor. She could hear the animals deep breaths, the beasts ribcage rising and falling.

It was searching for her, she realized.

She shut her eyes, desperately fighting off the rising sensation of fear in her gut. She drew in long, slow breaths. Her hands felt slimy against the cold metal butt of her pistol. She couldn't stop her hands from trembling. God help her. God help her. God help her.

With her free hand, she felt for the cyanide pill in her breast patch."

She gently set the book down, face up. There was a round of applause, which I joined in with. Miss Sasaki stood up and started to gather her things, effectively ending the read-aloud. The group seemed to mostly disperse, a few going to her to ask for an autograph. I was about to leave when something caught my eye.

I stopped.

There she was. Her flowing black-violet hair going down her back, free of her school uniform. Faced away from me, ruffling through her knitted book-sack. Yuri.

"Yuri?" I said, aloud.

She turned to me, taken aback. She was wearing a neatly-pressed white button-up shirt (which, may I add, did wonders in showing off her mature figure). A brown belt held up her slim black pants, and her hair was combed back behind her shoulders, with none spilling out onto her chest. She was wearing a pair of slightly-thick rounded black reading glasses, perfectly matching her stylish black boots. A dash of concealer dotted her cheeks, with a small necklace of a silver metal eye hanging from her neck.

She stammered. "K-Kazuma! What a pleasant surprise!" She tucked some of her hair back behind her ear, face awash with blush. She clearly wasn't expecting to run into anyone from school.

I smiled. "It's great to see you, Yuri. May I saw what a lovely outfit you have on?" I said. I wasn't being phony; she looked drop-dead gorgeous in her outfit.

Yuri blushed, slightly turning her face away, hand up to her cheek to hide her blush. "O-oh...thank you. It's different from my school wardrobe, isn't it?" She said with a slightly awkward laugh.

I nodded. "It looks great on you. I love the glasses." I said, tapping my temple. She smiled in return.

"What brings you here, Kazuma? I never expected to see you in a bookstore." She paused, and stammered. "I-not that I'm implying your dumb or a-anything! I-I just, ah…"

I waved my hand slightly. "Nah, I know what you mean. I was just in the neighborhood because I was shopping for some baking stuff Natsuki needed for tomorrow."

She smiled slightly. "Oh, how considerate of you. Monika told me not to worry about bringing supplies over to her home, so I don't need to worry about that."

"That's cool." I lifted up my bags slightly. "I just finished my shopping and decided to pop on here to browse around." I tried to conceal the bag holding the My Hero Academia manga behind the other two, but I'm pretty sure Yuri saw it anyway.

Ah hell, why am I even hiding it, anyway? I remember telling her that I read mostly manga on my first day at the club...which was almost a week ago. Wow, time flies. A week ago I had no interest in joining a club on my own merits, and here I am about to bake snacks for one.

I glanced over at Miss Sasaki, busy talking to a trio of Japanese schoolboys (looked like fourth-years), silently nodding as she spoke, showing complete respect. "May I ask what brought you here?" I said, turning back to Yuri.

Yuri smiled, holding her hands together. "Oh, I was just here to attend a meet-and-greet with the Portrait of Markov author. You recall, the book I talked about in one of our first meetings?"

Ah, right. That twisted Nazi torture novel or whatever. That cover on the poster-stand definitely fell in tune with that sort of 'flavor' of writing, especially with that haunting little excerpt I heard a few lines of. I nodded. "Yes, I remember."

Yuri smiled brighter, excited almost. "It was wonderful. I got my original copy of Markov signed and managed to win a pre-order ticket for her next book," she pointed towards the poster-stand, 'Subject DX', in a raffle contest. That is a prequel to one of her earlier works, which I've heard is similar in tone to Markov. It's another book I have been postponing on reading until I finish re-reading Markov."

I smiled, listening to her talk. Yuri was enveloped in her books, entranced almost, and it was pleasant to hear her so eagerly talk about something she clearly loves and cares about. It's a heavy change of pace from the persona I know from the Literature Club, usually so shy and timid unless otherwise revealed. Even if I knew next to nothing about Miss Sasaki's works, I still love hearing Yuri talk so animatedly about it anyway.

She stopped herself, blushed again. "A-ah, I'm sorry, Kazuma. You probably don't want to hear me ramble." She glanced away, washed in embarrassment.

I shook my head no. "Absolutely not. I love hearing you talk about the things your interested in. Don't think I don't."

She smiled again, looking up at me. "You...you really mean that, Kazuma?"

"Absolutely."

Yuri frowned slightly, almost in disbelief. "Forgive me but, its just...in my adolescence I was always shunned for having such a deep interest in literature like Markov. I was told to keep it to myself, or at home. Hearing you say that is…", she twirled a strand of her hair. "enlightening."

When I was looking up my next train ride back, I noticed that there was a coffee shop just a block or so away from the market. At least, I think it was a coffee shop. Hopefully it was open by now.

"Well, consider this a little sudden, but if you have a moment, would you like to join me for a drink? I know a coffee shop not very far from here. You can tell me more about some of the other pieces Miss Sasaki has written, if you'd like."

Yuri seemed taken aback. "R-really? Are you sure?"

I shrugged slightly. "Sure. I'll pay for your drink, if you want. I don't mind."

Yuri blushed feverishly. "Oh, there's n-no need for that. I can pay for my own." She paused. "Then yes, if you'd like to, I would be more than happy to join you for a moment." She adjusted the book-sack on her shoulder. "There's a lot I want to tell you about." She started to move to the door, and I followed her.

"Really?" I said, opening the door for her. "Like what?"

"No way."

"Yes way, Kazuma."

"But how? That doesn't even make any sense."

"Well, it would make sense if you read it."

Yuri and I were seated underneath a shaded table outside of the coffee shop I saw earlier. Thankfully it was open by this time of day, sparsely populated with mostly young faces, students and aspiring writers it seemed. We took a spot outside on the foyer and in a minute a waitress came to take our orders. A couple of blocks away, the Tokyo Tower loomed. From my seat, I had a perfect view of the tower, rising up to over a thousand feet into the sky, towering above the street.

Yuri took a moment to take a bite of her apple fritter, glazed to perfection. I sipped my steaming coffee, brewed heavy with milk and a dash of cinnamon shaving.

"The way Sasaki explains it is that the genetic coding of The Subject has the ability to quickly self-heal, even for large open wounds like gunfire or et cetera. During the story it's able to take on military-level fire and emerge just fine in the end, even with direct hits to the core regions of the body. That ability is the ultimate key to its survival and how it eludes the hunters for so long."

"So what, it's basically indestructible? How do they even kill it?"

"Ah…I shouldn't spoil it for you."

I set my croissant down, and looked up at her. "Oh come on, Yuri. Just a little bit?" I pinched my fingers together slightly.

Yuri playfully folded her arms, almost defiant. "No, Kazuma. Go read the book and maybe you'd learn how they kill it. Which they eventually do." She smiled.

I waved my hands in an almost defensive posture. "Okay, okay. I'll order a copy later when I get home. You've convinced me." I said with a light laugh.

We fell silent for a moment. Cars honked and sped down the busy street. A trio of people sitting at the table next to us started to get up and leave.

Yuri spoke. "So, how are you enjoying the Literature Club, Kazuma?"

I nodded. "It's been great. I'll admit I didn't have high hopes for me being in the club at first, but I'm pleased to say I'm loving it. All of you have been really sweet and nice to me, and I feel at home with you all. Forgive me if I haven't said it yet, but...thank you for being so warm to me."

Yuri nodded, smiling. "Oh, it is my pleasure. It's good you feel comfortable with us. I know Monika was especially worried that you might be," she made quotation marks with her fingers, "intimidated by us? It's silly I know, but ah...well, you are the only boy in the club so far."

"Yeah." I adjusted the cup on my dish. "Well, maybe that'll change when we present for the festival, right?" I said, referencing her last comment.

Yuri seemed to draw back when I said that. "A-ah...Kazuma, may I be honest?"

I nodded. "Sure. What's wrong?"

Yuri traced the rim of her teacup with her finger (just like she did the first day I met her). "Well...don't you enjoy the Literature Club the way it is currently? We are small, but closely-knit?"

I thought about it for a moment. It's certainly nice to be in such a small club (it feels more homely), but certainly Monika is hoping her presentation for the festival is going to draw in more members? If she wants to be able to compete and be on the level of the other, much more popular clubs, she's gonna want all the people she can find to join. As for me personally?

"Well...it certainly wouldn't hurt to have, like, one or two more new members. Not a whole lot, but a few fresh faces. What makes you ask?"

Yuri nervously adjusted her plate. "I...well, the idea to present at the festival wasn't my idea. Monika started it, and I was voted out 3-1 by the others. This was a while before you joined."

"Really?" I say, surprised. "Why did you say no?"

Yuri glances away. "I...I just...like the club the way it is. How small it is, I mean. I'm not pleased at the idea of there being a lot of people I don't know joining a club I find a lot of happiness in. I just...don't want that ruined…"

She glanced away again. "F-forgive me, that must seem so rude…"

I nodded my head no. "No, it's completely understandable. You want to keep things the same. Not wanting change is natural."

Yuri looked back up at me again.

"Well, I don't want to seem negative, but, I don't think you should worry about there being a line of people wanting to join the club after the festival."

Yuri gave me a look. "What makes you say that?"

My mind reeled back to my second day with the club, seeing the sign-up sheet hanging up on the bulletin board, with a row of empty name slots stretching down the end of the paper. Even so, it would be so rude to flat out say nobody likes literature the way the club does, especially to someone like Yuri. I'll reword it…

"Well, we do have a lot of competition. There's the computer engineering club, the culinary arts, political discussion, the anime club, theater arts…"

Yuri nodded. "Yes, there's a lot of other, much more established clubs out there. We only just formed the literature club a month ago. Some of the clubs have been here since before we even started Year One. And they have budgets, and fundraisers, and sponsors, and…"

Yuri trailed off. "Perhaps you are right, Kazuma." She took a sip from her glass of cream milk. "Maybe I am worrying for nothing. Chances are we may just be overlooked by other students, in favor of more popular clubs."

"Didn't Monika say she was going to perform a song at the festival?"

Yuri's face lightened, trying to recall. "Yes, she was supposed to. I remember Sayori getting excited like she usually does when she accidentally revealed it."

My heart stung upon hearing mention of Sayori. I wonder what she's doing right now? Probably at home sleeping or maybe out doing something with her family. Anything to keep the mind of of her constant negative feelings.

"Has Monika said anything about it since?"

Yuri nodded. "She mentioned that she wants to play the song for me tomorrow so I can give her a critique on it."

I paused thoughtfully. "That's...sweet of her. You'll have to tell me how it sounds. I bet it'll be great."

Yuri smiled, a trace of red on her cheeks. "Well, when Monika's the one behind it, you know it'll be something beautiful." Another pause.

"What about you and Natsuki, Kazuma?"

I glanced up from my cup of coffee. "Hm?"

"Well, out of everyone else in the club, you two seem to be getting along the best.

I could feel a heat rising to my cheeks. "Uh…"

Yuri stammered. "Oh, d-don't take it the wrong way! I just meant...you two have become friends, I take it?"

I swallowed. "Y-yeah, I think so. We get along pretty well."

Yuri smiled. "That's good. I see you got her a gift?"

I glanced up from my coffee cup. "Hm?"

Yuri glanced down under our table, and pointed directly to the bag containing the My Hero Academia manga set. "The manga you bought at the bookstore. Is it not a gift for her?"

'So she did notice.' I thought to myself.

I set the cup back down. "A-ah, well it was actually something I bought for myself." I said, shakily.

"I see. What series is it?" Yuri asked.

"My Hero Academia. I don't think you've ever heard of it."

"I think I have." Yuri ran her finger along the edge of her cup. "It's about, uh, superheroes, right?"

"Hmm...kinda." I shifted in my seat. "It's a world where a majority of the population has a 'quirk', or type of superhuman trait, say telekinesis or flight. The story follows this one boy, Midoriya Izuku, who was born without a quirk but adopts one from a famous hero, and he goes on to join a school for aspiring heroes. It's a good combination of slice-of-life, adventure and fantasy."

Yuri nodded silently, soaking in my very word.

"I think it's really good. It's not about horror, but I think you'd enjoy it."

"Does Natsuki like it?" Yuri said, almost cutting me off.

I paused. "I'm not sure. She's probably heard of it, at least. I only know she's into The Parfait Girls, which is pretty different from My Hero."

Yuri said nothing.

"You uh, you could ask her if she's heard of it…"

At this, Yuri blushed. "No, no...I couldn't…"

"Why not?"

Yuri looks...ashamed. "I...don't think Natsuki would want me to bug her."

"What? Why?" I said, puzzled. In the time I've known her, Natsuki never really showed any ill-feelings to Yuri, at least that I'm aware of. Unless that isn't the case?

Yuri continued. "I'm...I think it's because of how different we are, as people and as writers. You know, how she is very light with words whereas I prefer to be very 'heavy'."

She continued. "When we shared our poems we'd silently go back and forth on writing styles. I always defend my idea that, a majority of the time, being vivid with your words is a more satisfying means of writing, where she rebukes with the concept of 'less is more'. I'm not dismissing her, but I will still defend my arguments."

She glanced away. "Still, I think she doesn't like me. She probably thinks I'm trying to talk down to her, which I would never do. Considering how small she is, she's probably dealt with people being so condescending to her for her whole life. As a fellow writer and a fellow club member, I still respect her despite our differences. But...I don't think she knows that…" Yuri's deep, soothing voice chipped on that last line.

A silence followed.

"I really don't think that's the case, Yuri."

Yuri looked up at me.

"She's never told me anything bad about you to me before. Whenever she's mentioned you, it's always been in a good way. And she isn't the type of person to hate criticism just for getting it. If anything, she probably wants to learn from you to help improve herself as a writer."

Yuri sat silently for a moment.

"I don't know how she does it."

I blinked. "Sorry?"

"How can she be so confident in herself? With her baking, her manga, her writing. I can never reach for that sort of self-loving even if I try. Where I find it so hard to open up and discuss my writing unless otherwise, she eagerly shows it off and has a sense of pride over it I just can't find. How can she be like that?"

I didn't have an immediate response. "Well...I'm not sure how to answer that, Yuri."

She made a slight wave. "It's okay. It was a dumb question anyway."

"Maybe...you should ask her."

"What?"

"Yeah. Well, first actually message her. Start off with manga and say you were interested in it, and you wanted a recommendation. That's sure to get her talking."

"But...but what if she doesn't want to talk to me? What if I find that my worst fears are true?"

I shifted in my seat, looked Yuri in the eyes. "I can almost assure you that won't happen. Natsuki doesn't hate you, trust me. She's a lot nicer than you think."

I continued. "And I bet she wants to talk to you, as well. Maybe she even has the same sentiments that you have for her? You'll never know until you try to reach out."

I took a last bite from my croissant. "You should try to, and see what happens. Then build up from there. It's like that old saying, the greatest adventures began with a single step. And here is your first step."

Yuri looked ready to tear up (I hoped she didnt). "Th-thank you Kazuma. I appreciate your words a lot. If I get a chance, I'll try to message her later today."

I smiled. "Let me know how that goes."

Yuri cleared her throat. "So...tell me more about this Midoriya Izuku character, if you don't mind. Who did he get his quirk from?"

Another hour passed, and Yuri and I continued to talk about My Hero Academia. I eagerly filled her in on the basic plot, the antagonists and where you could watch it (I recommended a few streaming sites). After that, I told her about a couple of more manga series and their adaptations she might like. She listened patiently, asking a bunch of questions about the plots and characters. She seemed very interested to know about what kind of series Natuski liked, but all I told her was (to her slight dismay) that'd she'd have to ask for herself.

Soon she got a call, and she told me she had to return home. Quite understandable, as it was starting to grow dark. I carefully took our table trash and dumped it, and said my goodbyes to her. I reaffirmed my promise to buy the book she so eagerly told me about (hopefully it doesn't cost too much), and started to head out.

I glanced down at my phone, seeing there were a few texts in the Literature Club chat. I opened it up...

lilmonix3: Dont forget everyone's tasks for tomorrow! Yuri, feel free to come over at anytime you want, you already have my address. Just text before you show up. ;)

happy-thoughts: ️

mangaislit: Kazuma did you get the stuff i needed?

I quickly typed.

kodaka17: Yeah, just spent all day getting them fyi. Your welcome lol. Text me and I'll show you what I managed to find

I clicked my phone off and shoved it in my pocket. I paused for a moment to retrieve my headphones, untangle them and plug them into my phone. Up above, I could hear the silent whupwhupwhup of a passing helicopter. Night was beginning to set, the eco-friendly streetlights gently flickering on.

Waving a final goodbye to Yuri, who was standing by the streets edge waiting for a taxicab), I turned to walk across the street back to the train station.

Chapter 10: Sunrise

Chapter Text

You have unlocked a new poem. Would you like to read it?

YES. NO.

YES. NO.

I'm Sorry

I let all of you down. I've been nothing but a burden to the club, to my friends, to my family, to life itself. You can't imagine the endless pain I go through every day, knowing how truly worthless I am. A failure to society, to my school, to my loved ones. The crushing feeling that no matter how hard you try or what you do in life, you will never truly mean anything to anyone.

I just can't take it anymore.

Monika, I'm sorry I've let you down as a vice-president and as a friend. You must feel so ashamed to know me, but I hope this act will free you in some way.

Yuri, you're one of the most smartest people I've ever met. Even if I didn't understand your words sometimes, I still love hearing you talk. I know your gonna be a really good writer one day. I just wish I could be around to read them

Natsuki, you've always been such a sweet and nice person to me, and thank you for always making me treats (which are some of the best I've ever had). Thanks for being my best friend.

Kazuma, you've always been my dearest friend and I thank you forever for that.

I'm sorry for always holding you back and stressing you out over keeping me happy. Thank you for everything.

Mom and Dad, you don't have to worry about me anymore. You can live your lives on happy and not spend every aching minute stressing out over your damaged, awful daughter.

It's okay. You don't have to worry about me anymore. Finally the sunshine will make the rain clouds go away. Thank you all for everything you did for me, but I'm giving up.

Love, Sayori Asoka

The bright chorus of the native white-eye birds fills the damp, morning air. Dew clings to my window, rolling down the window pane in parallel lines and pooling up in little puddles on my windowsill. Soft orchestral music plays from my phone, still hooked up to its charger on my desk. I stare into my bathroom mirror, adjusting my hair with a comb ever so slightly. Last night, I had stayed up cleaning and ironing my uniform out to make sure it was absolutely perfect and ready for the day.

It's Monday, the morning of the festival.

Monika had texted to the group chat earlier that she was already at the school helping out the student council with their preparations for everyone's booths. She had specifically requested that each of us show up on time this morning and come to the foyer to assist (mentioning she already had us four excused for first period).

It was 7:19am.

My playlist shuffles, switching to a slightly cheery piano tune. I listen, busying myself with brushing my teeth.

My mind swirls with the still-fresh memories of yesterday. Natsuki had came over as expected and we had spent almost the entire day together, laughing and experimenting with baking and enjoying each other's presence.

...

The kitchen is a mess of dirty bowls, spilled flour and plastic bags filled with colorful frosting. In one corner sits a gigantic pink binder full of Natsuki's homemade recipes, the binder opened up to a random page of her 'cupcake' section. The small mixer that Natsuki had brought in her duffle bag sits plugged up next to it. The mixer wasn't big enough to mix all of the batter at once, so we've had to do it several times over.

Natsuki stands next to me, leaning over to get a full view of my work. A gigantic bowl filled with the main batch of cupcake batter lays before me, along with a few smaller bowls.

Natsuki points at the bowl.

"Okay, now take the batter and start pouring them into the bowls."

Obediently, I set out the five bowls next to each other. I carefully grab the main batter bowl with both hands and slowly pour an even amount of batter into them.

"Good. Now put a few drops of coloring into them."

I quickly take one of the bottles of food coloring and squirt a few drops into the batter. I repeat the process for the other four bottles.

"Now whisk it."

I grab the whisk and start to swirl the batter around. I watch as the color swirl with the pale battering, slowly turning into the intended color.

Natsuki pauses.

"Alright. Let's move onto the icing."

Natsuki turns to face the counter behind us, where all of the icing supplies are sitting. Another set of bowls awaits, with various icings already poured inside. She walks up to the counter and grabs the whisker, hands it to me.

"Okay, now start to whisk it."

Natsuki watches me whisk the icing for about twenty seconds, soaking in my every movement. I feel like I'm being interrogated for murder.

She frowns at me, and I feel a icy heat crawl up my neck. I definitely messed up somehow. She clears her throat.

"Um, why are you doing it like that?"

I pause. "Like...what?" I respond, hesitantly.

She gives me a look.

"Why are you doing it so slow? I'll be here all night if you do it at that pace!"

I feel a hot wave of embarrassment. "S-sorry, I just, ah…" I stutter, lost for a response. Natsuki scoffs, and makes a motion for me to move aside. I do so.

"Kazuma, you can't be so gentle with it." She picks up the bowl I was whisking and grabs the whisk. "You gotta…" with ferocity, she starts to aggressively whisk the icing, "really beat the shit out of it! Just beat it until it's down to a soup." She continues to literally beat it, an feverishly focused look on her face.

I take a step back, anticipating disaster. Speckles of icing start to dot her apron. "Natsuki, you might want to…"

Without warning, the bowl slips from her hand in an almost comical fashion. Natsuki yelps as the bowl flies in the air and dumps the entirety of its contents onto me. My face, neck and apron are coated in the half-beaten blue icing.

For a second, the two of us stand in silent shock. Natsuki's hands cover her face, red with embarrassment. Her voice cracks, "Kazuma, I-"

Slowly, I lift my finger up and scoop some of the icing from my face and bring it to my mouth. The most amazingly sweet and delectable flavors dance in my mouth.

"Well, at least it tastes good."

Natsuki sputters, and breaks out into a shaky laughter. She covers her mouth with her hands, trying to stop herself. I join in on the laughter, slowly wiping away the icing with my hands.

"Sh-shut up, dummy ahaha!"

...

After I got cleaned up (it took me two showers to get the smell of blueberry icing out of my hair), we finished up with the baking and put the trays in the oven to cook. Natsuki seemed especially proud of my work overall, which made me especially happy.

When the cupcakes were finished, I helped her with the actual decorating. The idea she has was to spell out a word onto each cupcake with icing, so each guest can find a word they like and choose a cupcake based on that. After about a half hour, we had around fifty perfect, cute little cupcakes packed up in plastic containers and ready for tomorrow.

After that, we sort of lazed around up in my room, not sure of what to do next. As Natsuki told me, there exists an anime adaptation of The Parfait Girls (which I was immediately curious to see). I ordered us a pizza to split (with Natsuki ending up eating more of it than I did) and for the rest of the night, we just laid out on my bed and watched the first season, with promises to finish it later on someday.

When it started getting dark, her dad came by and picked her up, and that ended the night.

It was so...pleasant. Just being around her, listening to her animatedly talk about how loyal the Parfait Girls anime was to the source material. We talked about school, about the literature club, about our plans for the winter break (we made plans to hang out again like this sometime during) and about our favorite mangas.

'I wonder what she's doing right now?' I think to myself. Probably getting ready for her day, I imagine. She had asked me to keep the cupcake containers at my house overnight (which seemed unusual to do, but I went along with it anyway).

Maybe I should text her…

My alarm interrupts my phone's playlist, meaning it's time to call Sayori to wake her up. I unplug my phone from it's charger, dial Sayori's number and hold my phone to my ear.

…thirty seconds of ringing follows...

I end the call and redial.

This time, the call immediately hangs up.

I frown, and open up my messaging app. I tap Sayori's icon and start to type. "Coming over". I hit send and shove my phone back into my pocket. I head downstairs, grab my keys and head out the door.

In a few minutes, I approach Sayori's house. I open the gate and walk up to the door. I knock, and there's a pause.

I hear a rattle of locks, and the door quickly opens up. A burly-looking figure greets me. Barrel-chested with light stubble and neatly combed hair. The man is wearing a pale white (starch bleached) dress shirt, neatly tucked into his black slacks. A thick red tie hangs across his neck, unfinished.

He gives me a seedy glance, looking me up and down. "Can I help you?"

It's Sayori's father, Mr. Asoka.

I shift a little. Even years later, he's still as intimidating as when I was a kid. He usually was the one to oversee Sayori and I's 'playdates', and he always seemed a little more watchful of me than Sayori, making sure that I didn't do anything to embarrass or hurt her daughter.

"Ah, hello, Mr. Asoka-"

"Who are you?"

"K-Kazuma. Sayori's friend? From down the street?"

He smiles a little, but still gives me an off-putting stare (how he did that, I have no idea). "Ah. Come in." He moves aside for me to enter. I quickly step inside.

Mr. Asoka shuts the door behind me and locks it. I stand awkwardly in the living room, as he moves into the kitchen. He clears his throat. "You're here to walk her to school again?"

"Ah, yes. I called her this morning but she, uh, didn't pick up her phone."

"Hm." He opens the fridge and pulls out what looks like a coffee cake, resting on a plate. "Well,she's probably still asleep. You can go ahead and wake her up, or you could just wait down here for her, if you'd like."

In my head, I already know what option I'm gonna pick.

"I'll think I'll just, uh, go wake her up. We need to be at school early today for the festival, anyway." He nods. "Ah, right." He turns away from me, opening up the cupboard to reach for a glass.

I start to walk up the staircase to Sayori's room. Various photos of Sayori and her family, her wide smile adoring them all, decorate the walls. The photos are all very candid, set out in a picnic or a park or a zoo or wherever.

In almost all of the photos featuring a young Sayori, I recognize my younger self with her.

I slowly approach her bedroom door.

"...Sayori?" I tap my knuckle on the door.

No response.

I try again, a little harder. "Sayori, it's me. Kazuma."

I hear a light, surprised squeak, but it sounded almost constricted. No mistaking it was Sayori.

"S-Sayori? Are you okay?" I say, worry creeping up my spine.

I jiggle the doorknob. Locked.

A low, gurgling sound emanates from Sayori's room, painful and drawn out. A sound no human should naturally make.

I feel myself start to panic. I knock on the door again, jiggling the doorknob. "Sayori?" I repeat, fear taking hold of me. What's going on?

Downstairs, I hear Mr. Asoka call out, his voice still intimidating me. "Everything okay?" Fear locks in my voice, unable to speak. Primordial panic takes over my body, my heart and my thoughts.

I start to slam up against the door, trying to break it down. My hands are shaking, clenched into fists as my body rocks the door. The doorknob jiggles, the lock staying in place.

"What the fuck is going on up there? Sayori?" Mr. Asoka bellows. I hear footsteps booming downstairs, starting their way up the stairs.

Though muffled, I can hear ragged, quick gasps of air. From beyond the door, a choked voice, Sayoris.

"N..no!"

With all my strength, I burst down the door. The hinges creak as the door pops open, swinging into the dresser with a loud wham! I stand in the doorframe.

I can't comprehend what my eyes behold me.

Hanging from a thick, frayed rope is Sayori, her head tilted at an unnatural angle, the rope dangling her precariously in the air. Her chest is half-exposed, her nightgown unbuttoned slightly and drooping off her shoulder. A desk chair is knocked over underneath her bare feet, flinging aimlessly in space. Her eyes are cloudy and bleak, the blues I know washed out.

Desperately she claws at the rope around her neck. Blood oozes from her hands and dribbles down her arms, little droplets staining her shirt. Sunlight streamed in through her open window and reflected on her body. It gave her an angelic glow, but for all the horrifically wrong reasons.

Her eyes bulge out in horror and fear of my presence. A limp arm reaches out to me.

She attempts to speak.

"K-kzzm..hel…"

Her eyes flutter closed.

Chapter 11: Bottles

Chapter Text

ACT TWO

A BRAND NEW DAY

Edogawa General Hospital was an eight story complex, a modern architecture piece completed sometime in the late 1990s, at the peak of Japan's cultural 'shift' into the modern, tech-embracing age. With exposed steel beams, all-shiny glass exteriors and lush with swamp oak trees, its stood out among the rooflines of the nearby homes and stores, one of the tallest structures in town.

The hallways were sterile white with checkerboard tile floors, various pieces of equipment kept outside the doors, waiting for emergency use. Bulletin boards and various posters advertising Japan's amazing healthcare perks and tips on hygiene adorned the walls. Nurses and doctors frequently walked in and out of the rooms, scribbling down furiously on clipboards and exchanging notes with each other (almost like a school). The halls were orderly and clean, and a janitor frequently strolled by in hunt of spare trash and dust to sweep up. Orderly and rigid.

I sat at the small bench just outside of Sayori's room, my head hung low and my hands buried in my face. A small water bottle a nurse handed me sat at my feet, unopened. I couldn't stop my knees from wobbling and, try as I might, I couldn't shake the horrific, sickening feel in my stomach. It had been hours since morning when I found her.

My mind forced itself to replay the morning's events in my head.

I immediately rushed towards Sayori and tried to get her down. Her father stood in the doorway, taken aback before rushing forward to join me. He quickly retrieved a utility knife from his pocket and slashed the rope tied to the ceiling with a swipe. He carried her in his burly arms and laid her down gently on her bed, and fumbled with loosening the rope around her neck. With shaky hands, I dialed emergency services.

An ambulance arrived in minutes, sirens blaring. Sayori was hauled away on a stretcher as stern-faced workers struggled to revive her. I climbed in the EMS car with Mr. Asoka, and I stood side-by-side next to him as the workers brought her to a steady breathing rate, and tried to soothe the lacerations on her neck with what they had on-hand. It was the most horrifically intense several minutes I've ever experienced.

Calls were made. Mrs. Asoka, busy at work at the time, quickly arrived at the hospital. I texted the Literature Club chat saying what had happened, to horrified reactions. After sharing her room number, the three said they were immediately on their way. I still hadn't heard back from them since.

Sayori's eyes slowly opened about a minute before we pulled into the hospital. The blues of her eyes were slowly returning, still with a glaze of gray. Mr. Asoka immediately rushed to her side, clutched her small, pale hand in his. Tears rushed to his eyes.

Sayori's eyes met mine.

They were...

The door clicked open. I snapped my head up, alert.

First a doctor stepped out, an older Japanese with grayed hair and circular glasses that dropped beneath his eyeline. Dressed in a drooping white doctors coat, he had a scratched clipboard tucked under his arm, with thick papers clipped onto it. He gave me a passing, sympathetic glance, then stepped aside so Sayoris parents could step out.

Mr. Asoka was gray, a blank, thousand-mile stare locked on his face. His eyes were heavy, an arm wrapped around his wife. Mrs. Asoka was a shorter, chubbier woman than my mother, with matching coral pink hair (albeit a bit faded) like her daughter's. Still dressed in her work attire, she had her face buried in Mr. Ashoka's dress shirt, stained with her tears, ugly sobs coming from her.

I felt the pit in my stomach lurch deeper. The pair continued down the hallway, Mr. Asoka slowly rubbing his wife's hair in an effort to soothe her. They didn't acknowledge me, more than likely blaming me for the entire thing.

The doctor approached me.

"Kazuma? Kazuma Odaka, is it?" I stood up from the bench.

"Hai, sir." I gave a slight bow. The doctor smiled, appreciating the gesture. He stuck out a hand, which I shook firmly.

"I'm Dr. Nakai. I'll be the doctor looking over your friend Sayori."

He paused, and glanced behind me, watching Mr. and Mrs. Asoka walk away, turn the corner. He made a motion with his clipboard to sit back down at the bench. I did, and he took a spot next to me.

I didn't hesitate to ask the big question. "Is she-"

He gave me a bleary smile. "Sayori is fine, for the most part. The rope did do some light damage to her esophageal placement, but we've taken proper measures to repair that. Nothing serious or lasting. She's breathing just fine, so there's no issue about that."

Dr. Nakai paused, thinking over his words.

"The primary concern is the lacerations and bruising caused by the rope itself. It dug fairly harshly into her neck, and her hands suffered some moderate cuts and bleeding. Once again, she's being taken care of. She's been given some antibiotics to avoid a possible infection and some generous aloe vera to soothe the wounds, but the damage should heal in a few days."

He continued. "I've asked her parents to go to the cafeteria to try to clear their heads, ease their nerves a little. Right now, Sayori is currently resting, but she's in good spirits, to say the least."

On the outside, I nodded. On the inside, I grimaced at how far from the truth those words really were. Only I knew her suffering.

"It's...a miracle you found her at the time you did."

I glanced at Dr. Nakai. "Why is that?"

He paused. "While the rope didn't do any real damage, it very well could have if you found her mere minutes later than you did. Hanging survivors are often found much later, where the rope has been able to dislocate the bones in her neck, cut off her circulation, et cetera. Lasting damage that cripples people for life. And of course, some aren't, ah…"

He didn't need to finish his sentence. An eerie silence fell between us, thinking about the unthinkable.

"You should be thanking yourself, Kazuma. You saved a life today."

His words were thankful, praising, but they were hollow to me. They bounced around in my head. I should be feeling prideful, but instead I feel empty.

"C-can I…"

Dr. Nakai glanced at me.

"Can I see her?"

He frowned.

"I'd have to check with her, if that's alright. I'm not sure she's...ah, let me check." I nodded. He got up from his bench and re-entered her room, the door opened a crack.

Their words were muffled.

"Mi...Asho...a boy...to you…"

"Who?"

"Kaz…daka…"

A pause.

"Yes...please…"

Dr. Nakai leaned back into the hallway, and made a motion with his clipboard to me. I got up slowly, my muscles aching slightly.

Sayori was propped up by a pillow against her head, her morning attire exchanged for a blearly hospital nightgown. Her hair was slightly ruffled, her bow sitting on the small, expandable tray attached to her bedframe. The small television attached to the wall droned on softly, switched to some random channel. A small, beige couch with a matching table was against the windowsill, with a nice view overlooking Edogawa. The curtains were closed slightly, with a thin ray of sunlight streaming in.

Sayori's eyes met mine, staring blankly. I didn't dare say anything. I felt like a stranger to her, awash with immense guilt and a lingering sense of...fear. I stood awkwardly behind Dr. Nakai, frozen. My palms felt sweaty, the sick feeling in my gut threatening to return. I fought back the urge to vomit.

Dr. Nakai patted me sympathetically on the shoulder, and quickly shut the door behind him. I felt a cold wave of air rush over me with the shut of the door. For a few damp seconds, it was just Sayori and I. Staring at each other, not a word escaping our lips but our minds talking at a million miles an hour.

"H…" my voice struggled to say. My voice croaked, rusted and shaky.

Tears rushed to Sayori's eyes. She buried her face in her shaky hands, her sobs muffled by her hands. Her entire body quivered, shaking with each sob. "K-k-k-k…." she mumbled.

I didn't hesitate in rushing up to her bedside, and quickly embracing her. She didn't resist, and wrapped her arms around me, pulling me in tighter.

"I'm so...so...sorry...sorry...sorry…" Sayori cried, repeating the word over and over. Her tears wetted my blazer. I didn't even notice or care. I stroked her soft coral pink hair, trying to soothe her again like I did the Friday we had spent together.

"K-k-Kazuma…" she croaked, muffled. Her crying put a heavy strain on her voice.

My voice was heavy with worry. "Yes?"

"D-do you...h-h-hate meee?" she managed to say, her sobs breaking up her voice again.

I shook my head quickly. "N-no! H-how could you even think that?"

Fright flashed across her eyes. God, I didn't mean to almost yell at her, but I was so taken aback by the thought I couldn't help it.

"H-why? How could you n-n-not?" she said, staring into my eyes. "A-after everything I-I've...p-p-put you th-th…" her crying cut off her voice again. Her cheeks were flushed red, tearstreaks running down the side of her face. Driplets of mucus hung from her nose.

"Oh, jeez…"

I reached over to the small tray and plucked out a few tissues from a box. I quickly wiped away at her nose, tossed the tissue and reached for another. I held it up to her nose.

"Blow." I told her.

Obediently, she did. I quickly crumpled it up and tossed the used tissue paper away. I grabbed a few more and started to carefully blot away at her tears, combing back strands of her hair behind her ear.

I stopped, and slowly grabbed Sayori's small, soft hand, lightly wrapped in bandages.

"Sayori…" I started, my mind lost for words.

"I...you...I almost lost you, forever."

She numbly shook her head, bleary. I struggled to form my next words.

"I...I know you're going through so much pain and trouble. Pain I had no idea you were forced to bear, and I'm truly sorry for you having to go through it all, by yourself."

I sharply inhaled, my breaths shaky.

"But what you did...what you tried to do...is never the option. Never."

I gently cupped her cheek with my hand. Sayori stared into my eyes, glossy with tears.

"I don't know what I would do if I lost you, Sayori Asoka. You've always been my dearest friend, my first friend, and the only person I can truly be myself around. The only person I know that can help lift me up on my bad days, and I hope I can do the same for you."

I embraced her again in a hug. Sayori's arms gently wrapped around me, as I did the same.

"I'm always going to be here for you, Sayori. Please know that, despite whatever thoughts may come to you, I'm always going to be here to help you. You have to know this."

I could hear her sobs returning. I hugged her tighter, adjusting myself on the bed to be closer to her.

"I-I know...and I lo-"

There was a knock at the door. Sayori and I slowly released each other. I patted her hand gently and got up from her bed.

I opened the door, and was greeted to Monika's worrisome face. Natsuki and Yuri stood behind her, looking just as worried as their club president. They were still in their school uniforms. A white plastic band hung from their wrists, their admittance passes to the hospital.

"Monika-"

I was cut off by Monika embracing me in a tight hug, her arms wrapped around my back. I could feel her shudder slightly, her breaths shaky. "Oh thank God, you're here." she said lightly. I gingerly returned the hug, looking at Yuri and Natsuki. They gave me lukewarm smiles, the horror of the situation lingering above them.

Monika released me, and immediately rushed to Sayori's side. At seeing her distressed club president, Sayori once again broke down into tears. Monika immediately embraced her, with Natsuki and Yuri sitting beside her, patting her on the back and rubbing her hair to soothe her. I somewhat awkwardly joined them, and simply held Sayori's hand tightly, never wanting to let go.

Hours passed. Sayori was calmed down again, and we soon found ourselves just resting and relaxing with each other. I took the spot closest to Sayori, my hands still intertwined with hers. Eventually Sayori ended up falling asleep, so the four of us quietly talked amongst ourselves. Nobody wanted to talk about the festival (set to happen today), only interested in just enjoying each other's presence and being there by Sayori's side.

Sayori's parents returned, and we respectfully decided to leave and let them have more alone time with their daughter. We started to gather our things and head for the door.

I felt a firm hand rest on my shoulder.

"Kazuma," Mr. Asoka said. "Would you mind staying behind for a few minutes?"

I uncertainly glanced back at Monika and the Literature Club, lingering by the door. "Ah, sure." I replied. Monika gave me a look, then turned for Natsuki and Yuri to head out the door, quickly closing it behind her.

Ms. Asoka sat on the bed by her daughter, her hand resting on her thigh, rubbing it soothingly. Mr. Asoka rubbed a fleck of dirt from his eyes.

"We...we just wanted to tell you…" Mr. Asoka started, but he trailed off.

"How grateful we are for you. What you...did, today." his wife finished for him.

I shook my head. "Really, you shouldn't thank me. It was...something anyone would have done, in that situation."

"But it was you who did it, you saved her." Ms. Asoka continued. "You were the one who got up early to come see her and walk her to school every day. You were the one who was there for her, to encourage her to get up."

"If you didn't come this morning, I-I would have...she would have…" Mr. Asoka stuttered, tears beginning to choke his voice. It was distressing, seeing a man I had always feared and looked at as a burly, masculine figure crying in such a way. Ms. Asoka got up from her spot to console her husband.

I stood in silence, feeling more awkward than ever.

"Here." Mr. Asoka gently took Sayori's bow from her stand, and handed it to me. "I think Sayori would want you to have this."

I carefully took the bow from Mr. Asoka's hands, feeling the soft fabric of the bow in my hands.

"Th-thank you." I said, a smile spreading across my face. Mr. Asoka warmly returned it.

I glanced to Sayori, still sound asleep. "Are you two going to be alright? Do you need anything?"

Mr. Asoka looked back to his wife, who was sitting on the bed next to their daughter, gently rubbing her face. "I think we'll be fine, Kazuma. Thank you for asking."

I paused. "I should, uh, get going then. I'll leave you be."

Mr. Asoka nodded. "Of course." He got up to walk me to the door.

He stopped, and stuck his hand out. I gingerly started to shake it before he pulled me into a close hug, patting me on the back. I gingerly returned the hug.

"Thank you." he said quietly.

The door clicked close. The literature club was sitting on the bench I was seated at before, looking fairly glum. Monika was in the middle of talking to Yuri and Natsuki, who were both at her side, sympathetic. She glanced up, noticing my arrival.

"H-how could I have never known this, Kazuma? How?!" She said, shrilly. "She's my vice-president! I'm supposed to know everything about her! What kind of a friend am I?" Monika broke down into tears, burying her face in her hands. Natsuki and Yuri tried to console her again, but to no avail.

I took a knee in front of Monika, and pulled her close. I could hear her sniffling, trying to wipe her tears away. "Monika, everything is going to be okay. You have to understand that. Sayori is going to be okay. She just...needs time to heal. It's alright. Everything is okay." I hugged her closer, rubbing her back.

Monika sniffled. "You're right, Kazuma. I need to relax. Sayori is in good hands, and she's with us. I need to...relax." She wiped away the trail of tears running down her cheek with her sleeve.

A silence fell upon us.

"So what do we do now?" Yuri said. There was a pause.

Monika glanced up slowly, entranced deep in thought. With a renewed sense of energy, she stood up. "Okay." Monika sniffed, straightening her bow up, taking authority. "Okay. We...let's just go home, or go out somewhere to clear our thoughts. Sayori is going to be safe and sound here, and...we-she's going to be okay. She's going to be okay, and that's all that matters at this point."

The three of us slowly nodded in agreement.

"We...I'm going to talk to the student council and let them know the situation. We're not going to have our presentation without our vice president. Hopefully she can recover before the festival ends. We can all agree to that, right?"

"Of course." Natsuki chimed.

"Absolutely." Yuri said.

I just nodded.

"But, where should we go? Back to school?" Natsuki said.

Monika paused. "Well, we're technically excused for the whole day, so we don't have to return to school. I can pay for us to go somewhere to eat or something, if everyone wants to…"

Natsuki glanced away. Yuri seemed pleased at the thought. "Well, we could try going out to a cafe or a shop, or go to one of our houses."

I interjected. "If you want, we could go over to my house. I could order us a cab and we could be there in a few minutes. I have snacks and all that stuff, and my parents are at work, so it would be just to ourselves." Pause. "Just offering that."

Monika smiled dimly. "I like the sound of that. What about you two?" she said, turning to the duo. "Any objections?"

The pair glanced at each other, and shook their heads no. Monika quietly clapped her hands together. "Alright, then. Shall we?" She said, looking back at me. And with that, the four of us started down the hallway.

In my hand, my thumb gently rubbed against the silk of Sayori's bow.

Chapter 12: The Festival, Part One

Chapter Text

Days have passed since that morning. It feels like years to me.

Sayori's condition remarkably improved, in both her spirit and her body. I made the effort to visit her each day after school, making the mad dash to the hospital grounds to see her as soon as possible. After that, I would stay by her side and be there for her until it came sundown, or until the staff informed me it was time for curfew.

Each time I stepped into her room, her smile was there to greet me.

I kept in close contact with her parents, usually dropping by early in the mornings before school to check up on them. A nice cup of tea was always prepared for me by Ms. Asoka, and Mr. Asoka was always warm and courteous, clapping me on the back and treating me like a father would his son. It was an oddly warm feeling, being so welcomed by him when beforehand it seemed like we were on thinning ice in the few times we interacted before that morning, but I gladly accepted it.

For the time being, Monika decided to postpone 'official' Literature Club meetings until Sayori returned. In its place, we mostly just hung out in the clubroom and continued to refine our plans for the festival. A majority of the time was spent rehearsing speaking aloud to the audience, working out our stutters and shakes in our voices. Sayori, to loving reactions, always joined in via video-chat, keeping the mood light and happy, her bright laughter filling the room through Monika's laptop.

The school was understanding of the situation and agreed to reschedule the Literature Club's planned presentation, now shifted to the second to last day of the festival (which spanned across the week and ended on the last day before the winter break). It threw quite the wrench into the schools planned schedule, but it was done, with the culinary arts club taking our time slot. The school made it clear they couldn't push the presentation any further (as it would mess with the grand finale for the festival), and, despite there being no official word on if Sayori would even be out of the hospital by that time, we went along with it. We were essentially living on hope.

Finally, the word came, the night before the Literature Club's presentation. Sayori, after being intensely looked over by Dr. Nakai, allowed for her to be released, just in time for her to appear at the presentation. It was as if a great weight was lifted off our shoulders when we heard the news.

We patiently waited in the lobby of the hospital, thumbs twiddling, waiting for Sayori to be officially released. We looked fairly out of place, mixed with the elders and small children ("shouldn't they be in school?" I heard one woman say), but we didn't care. The minutes felt like eons.

Soon, Sayori and her parents walked through the double doors of the infirmary. Dressed in her school uniform, she looked about as normal as ever. When she spotted us, she broke out into a bright smile, the smile I always knew, only this time it felt genuine. We all rushed up to greet her, arms open.

For a brief moment, Sayori and I exchanged warm glances before Monika rushed up and embraced her vice-president in a tight hug, much to Sayori's surprise.

"How are you feeling, sweetie?" Monika asked her, a happy tear blooming in her eye.

Sayori paused.

"Hungry".

We arrived at the school just in time for B lunch. Seamlessly, we blended in with the swirling crowd of students eagerly lining up for today's menu. On the koi pond foyer, I could see students and teachers helping set up the booths for tonight's events. Despite Monika, Yuri and Sayori not supposed to have this specific lunch, they decided, just this once, to cut class and have a school lunch together. Like a family.

When we all sat down at the table, Monika was the first to speak.

"Okay. So here's the plan."

Monika's plan was fairly simple, but tricky to pull off without a problem. Monika was going to start off the presentation with a short, heavily-prepared speech about how valuable literature is to the world, and what joining the literature club can do for you. Very artsy and poetic, written in Monika's trademark blend of professionality and personality. Afterward, each of us (ordered by Monika, Sayori, Yuri, Natsuki, then myself) would go up to the mic and read our rehearsed poems.

To finish it all off with a cherry on top, Monika would play her self-written song to the crowd, and that we'd split up and enjoy the rest of the festival. Not as grand as some of the other club presentations (you should have seen the anime club's...), but it's something you would hopefully think twice about. At least, that was the idea.

Monika speared some of her ranch-dripped salad with her fork. "So that's that. I hope everyone knows what poem they're going to read?" She looked expectantly around the table.

Yuri smiled faintly. "Ah, y-yes."

Natsuki nodded, her mouth full of her bento lunch. "Mhmmph." She started to reach into her bag.

Sayori smiled. "You betcha! I have it saved on my phone." Eagerly, Sayori whipped out her phone and started to type.

I took a bite of my fried rice. "Yeah, I finished the final touches last night. I'm honestly excited to present."

Monika smiled warmly. "As am I, Kazuma. This is gonna be amazing!"

After that, we finished up our lunches and talked about what we would be doing after the presentation. The whole time, I couldn't help but feel Natsuki's eyes on me, glancing away whenever I looked up. With Sayori's situation, I admittedly haven't been talking to her as much as I'd have, but hopefully we can make up that lost time at-

The bell rings. The cafeteria becomes alive with students getting ready to return to class. Monika and Sayori get up, entangled in a convo about possible Literature Club meetings over the break. Yuri is out the door already, her book bag bouncing on her shoulder.

I felt a light hand tap me on the shoulder.

"Hey, wanna walk with me to my class?" I hear Natsuki's sweet voice say.

"Ah, s-sure." I respond, hearing my voice skip a beat.

We slowly head out the door and mingle with the crowd of students. Natsuki is shuffling through her bag while she walks, her fingers running across the next issue of Parfait Girls. She quickly closes up her bag and slings it across her shoulder. Double-checking to make sure it was there, I guess?

"So um, I was just thinking-and you don't have to do it if you don't want to," Natsuki starts to say, "but, um, maaaybe after the presentation you'd want to...to…", she loses her train of thought.

This can't be. Is she…

...is she trying to ask me out?!

"Explore the festival with you? Yeah, I'd love to." I say, barely even thinking twice about it. Are you kidding me? I'd want nothing more than to spend a little bit more time with her.

Natsuki smiles. "Cool."

I don't know why, but something compels me to speak about the...situation, we've all been dealing with.

"So um...I'm sorry for not, y'know, texting you that much this week. What with how things have-"

Natsuki looks awkwardly at me. "Are you kidding me? Of course I understand. Don't...don't worry about it. Sayori, in her state, takes priority over any of us."

She stops herself. "Oh...well, maybe you should be spending the f-festival with her, then…"

I linger over the thought. Maybe I should? I'm not really sure. I mean, I have been spending the whole week by her side, and I've definitely seen her a lot. Certainly she wouldn't mind if I just spent the rest of today with Natsuki.

"Ah, I think I'll just ask her later on. Even if she says she wants to, we could always just spend the day together tomorrow? It's the finale of the festival, after all."

Natsuki thinks it over for a beat. "Yeah, true."

We approach her classroom door, biology. The last few students are slowly trickling through the door. Yknow, standing together like this, we kind of look like a-

"Alright, well…" she give me a gentle wave. "Bye."

I feel a heat rising to my cheeks. "Bye." Natsuki turns and walks into her class.

I pause for a moment, letting the sunlight streaming in through the hallway windows wash over me. What a week it's been. And it's only gonna get crazier, I feel.

Not hesitating, I turn on my heel and head for my class.

Sunset was starting to glaze over our town, the soft golden rays of sun streaming in through the windows of the clubroom. The blinds were raised slightly, with one of the windows cracked open to let cool air blow in. Out on the foyer, the lights of the booths and tables were starting to shine. Down below, I could hear the energetic chatter of students and teachers, ready for the festivities to begin. A variety of smells (oils cooking, foods frying, candles being lit) swirl in my nose.

We had organized some of the desks into a little table, with a few select snacks and drinks set out. Yuri's phone was plugged up to the teacher's speaker set, playing choice cuts from Yuri's music selection. The smell of Yuri's relaxing jasmine oils fermented the air, admittedly putting me in an intoxicating sense of ease (I'll have to ask her where she buys them later). I was seated at the makeshift table, Yuri and Sayori adjacent to me. Monika was busy talking to Natsuki at the teachers desk, enveloped in a quiet, hushed conversation. I couldn't make out their words well, but I think my name came up-

Monika glanced up at the wall clock and got up from her spot. She grabbed her drink and clinked the glass with her pen. "Hey, everyone? Can I have everyone's attention?"

We all glance at Monika.

"I'd um…" she pauses. "I'd just like to say thank you, to all of you, for making the literature club what it is. When I first made the club, I never expected anyone to join, and I was preparing myself to end up shutting it down early."

She continues. "But, everyday I'm reminded how thankful I am for all of you joining me. You all have truly made this club a special place, in many more ways than one."

"Even if we don't get a single new member after tonight, I'd still be happy. Why?" She smiles. "Because I still have you all."

"Aww, Monny…" Sayori said, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "That's so sweet."

"And finally, I'd just like to say...thank you, Kazuma."

I look up, surprised. "What for?"

Monika smiles. "Well, what else for? For putting up with us for so long, for putting in the effort to write a poem in the first few days you joined, for helping us out with the festival, and for being there for all of us when we needed someone to be."

"You really are one of a kind, Kazuma."

I couldn't hide the blush in my cheeks, the wide smile spread across my face.

"Awww, Kazumaaaaa! You're blushiiing!" Sayori cooed, setting down her drink. She embraced me in a tight hug, which further reddened my blush.

The clock chimed. 7:00m. The Literature Club was the last to present at around 7:35, but it was considered disrespectful to skimp out on the other clubs presentations, which were about to start.

Monika quickly grabbed her black purse and picked up her spread of notebook paper, filled with words. "Okay everyone! Ready to go?"

...

The school foyer was transformed. Rows of booths were set up, with colored ribbons and banners stringing them together. The area around the koi pond was decorated with softly-lit lanterns, the glow reflecting across the water. Dozens of students were spread out across the main area, sitting and chatting, bountiful plates of food in hand. The smells were rich, fresh with the sizzling hot food being served. It made my mouth water, but I shoved the thought of hunger aside. There would be plenty of time to eat afterward.

We stepped into the main school building, which led into the auditorium. Some fifty feet high, it was expansive, with rows and rows of wood chairs stretching to the front of the stage. More banners were hung up across the walls, showing off various colleges and universities.

We quickly took our spots at the reserved 'club section' towards the front of the stage just as the lights started to fully dim.

On the stage I could see our vice-principal, Ms. Kajo, a slightly older woman with strands of gray in her brown hair. Dressed in a red pantsuit, she stood at the front of the mic, with a row of teachers and staff seated behind her.

"...please allow me to introduce our wonderful principal, Mr. Hideko Terai!" Hearty applause followed.

Our principal, Mr. Terai, took the stage. He was almost elder, around 50-ish with a balding head and hawkish eyes. Dressed in a slightly baggy gray suit, he waved gingerly to his audience before taking the mic from his vice principal.

"Thank you! Thank you all for coming tonight for our school club presentations for the 2017 to 2018 year!"

"As you come back from the winter break, it's very important to keep the idea of joining a club or two, not only to keep you occupied, but to make you more desirable for future colleges and universities you'll be applying to as seniors."

"Studies prove that students who were apart of at least one school club have a 40% higher chance of being accepted to the school of their choice than a student who didn't join clubs at all! Think about that."

Sayori jokingly nudges me in the shoulder. "Think about that." I stifle a laugh.

Mr. Terai shuffles through his notecards.

"The three great clubs we have presenting tonight are the Japanese history club, the Veterinary Studies club and the Literature Club. These clubs are recently formed and are now taking applications for the next semester, so be sure to talk to their club presidents if interested."

He clears his throat.

"Without further ado, let's begin!"

First up was the Japanese history club, with an intriguing mini-play showcasing, in two minutes, the history of our nation from our roots as an imperial empire to the gleaming democratic power it is today. A well-designed slideshow briefly going over Japan's rich history (from our days as an isolated empire to our status as an Asian superpower) followed as their club-president, a brown-haired senior, announced they were already planning a class trip to Hiroshima and Nagasaki for the next year. When he finished, I heard murmurs behind me of students wanting to sign up after the break.

Well, good for them.

Next up was the veterinary club, ready with a litter of adorably fluffy, mewling kittens to show off on the big screen, a camera connected to the projector high up on the ceiling. Massive waves of awws and 'so cuuute!' as the little fluffballs flopped around and played with each other on a little table. As one of the boys from the club was telling everyone the names of the kittens, I couldn't help but notice that their presentation didn't really specify what they do in the club (even if it was in the title of the club), but regardless, it had everyone's attention.

Mr. Terai took to the stage a final time, taking the mic from the ashy-brown haired girl, presumably the club president. In Mr. Terai's hands were a couple of slightly-crumpled notecards. He shuffled through them quickly.

"And lastly, we have the...Doki Doki Literature Club, led by-" he glanced down at his notecard "-President Monika Sehlke!" Whoops and cheers went up at mention of the name. Through the darkness, I could see a smile spread across Monika's face, enjoying the praise of her fellow students.

"They will be sharing some of the poems they have written over the past few week, followed by a song performance. Let's have a big round of applause for the Literature Club!" Mic still on hand, Mr. Terai started to clap, the sounds clipping in on the mic. He quickly clicked it off.

I took a shaky breath, my hands becoming slick with sweat, trembling with nervousness. Oh shit, this is really happening, isn't it? It's happening. I looked at Natsuki. I could see her almost trembling, hiding her face with a strand of her hair.

The roar of the applause swelled in my ears. I took a deep breath, just as Sayori and Yuri were starting to get up.

Here we go.

We started our way towards the stage.

Chapter 13: The Festival, Part Two

Chapter Text

"Heya, everybody! How are y'all doing tonight?"

Lots of whoops and whistles from the crowd.

"For those who don't know, my name is Monika Sehlke, and I'm president of the Literature Club here at Yamaku High School. Formerly, I was apart of the student council, political debate club and environmental science club, but as I'm sure some know-"

"Marry me, Monikaaaaa!"

Huge laughs. Even Monika is holding back a chuckle, masked behind a fake blush. She plays with a strand of her hair. "Wellllll, as much as I'd like to, I don't think I'm in you're league, sooo…" A sneaky smile crosses her face.

The crowd oohs, heads turned back to the now gun-shy boy, wishing he was anywhere but here right now. Not glancing up from her paper, Yuri mutters. "It's like a school idol project or something…"

The four of us were all standing offstage behind the velvet red curtains, just out of sight from the crowd. Backstage, the ropes of the heavy curtains were hanging, all the way down to the floor, sandbags holding down the ropes. Stacks of unused chairs and props from last year's theater performance were stored. The air was slightly humid, the backstage area without air-conditioning.

Monika gripped the mic in her phone, the cord twirling in her finger. She slowly started to walk around the stage, her hair flowing free of it's ribbon. She really was a natural at public speaking, a born showman. The audience was captivated, by her looks and her demeanor.

"I formed the literature club to be a refuge for the inspired, a place where the like-minded, the imaginative and the creative could come to workshop the little sparks of ideas in their head and turn them into something great."

She continued, "It may not seem like it, but the importance of writing and free-thinking cannot be understated. With all the craziness going on in the world right now, in the age where controversial opinions are trying to be silenced and those who voice them to be shunned, free thought cannot be understated as a valuable asset to the human mind."

"I can't…IcantIcantIcant…" I hear Natsuki mumble under her breath, her voice distant and trembling. The thin sheet of paper she's holding starts to crinkle in her shaky hands.

"Natsuki, what's wrong-" Yuri started to say, but she was cut off. "I can't, I'm so sorry but I just can't." Her face was flush red, her eyes wide with fear. Without warning, Natsuki bolted away, heading down the backdoor stairs leading outside. The door clicks open, and she's gone in a flash.

"Oh, nooo…" Sayori says quietly, burying her face in her hands.

"Natsuki! Wait!" I say after her, trying to keep my voice down so the audience couldn't hear. Already a few heads were turning in our direction, at the sound of the door. Monika glances over from her spot at the stage, trying to conceal the look of worry in her face. Her eyes speak volumes.

She looks at me and mouths, "what happened?"

I glance at Yuri and Sayori. Yuri is awkwardly shuffling her papers around in her hand, nervously trying to avoid the situation. Sayori gives me a bewildered look. She shooed me away. "Go! Go after her! Hurry!"

I start to run towards the door, slamming it open with my shoulder. The hot air outside blasts me in the face.

Monika glances back to the now-worried crowd, regaining her footing in her head. She gives an airy laugh. "Ah, sorry about that. Someone, uh...ahah, it's not important." She cleared her throat. "Now, where was I?"

"Hey!"

"Watch it, dude!"

"Look where you're going, asshole!"

"Excuse me, excuse me! Coming through! Sorry!"

The festival was in full swing, with the sun already beginning to set across the school grounds. Wafts of smoke from the various foodstands was drifting into the sky, the smells entrancing. Hundreds of students, still in uniform, were mingling between the booths and stands. The booths in this area ran parallel, but all met up around a small area with tables and benches. Nightfall was beginning its approach, with the first twinkling of stars up in the sky glooming.

Up ahead, Natsuki's pink hair was sprinting away from me, her ribbons bouncing. She was ducking and weaving her way through the crowds of students, and disappeared in a flash.

"Natsuki! Wait!" I yelled for her, but she didn't slow down.

I broke through the crowds of students to the sitting area. Dozens of students (mostly couples) were sitting down already, enjoying their hot meals and cold drinks. A few gave me an odd look, but said nothing and returned to their activities.

I swiveled my head around. Where did she-

Dashing towards the seniors building, I saw a flash of pink. Dazed, lost, scared. A deer running through traffic.

'She's going back to the clubroom.' I realized.

I started to make my way towards her. Natsuki paused for a moment. "Natsuki! Hey!" She turns at the sound of my voice, and starts to run off. She has the lead, but I'm catching up to her.

She breaks free of the crowd and runs towards the entrance to the seniors building. She swings open the door and dashes upstairs. Muffled through the glass, I hear her voice, bitter. "Go away!"

"Natsuki, please!" I swing open the door and dashes up the stairs.

I turn the corner to see Natsuki running towards the door. She glances back at me with panicked, fearful eyes. She jiggles the doorknob.

Locked.

She yanks on it harder, but to no avail.

Defeated, she leans back against the door and slides to the ground, burying her face in her arms. Ugly sobs emit from her shaky body.

I slow my approach, cautious. "Natsuki, I-"

She cuts me off. "What do you want?!"

"I-I just want to help you…"

"Help me? You can help me by getting away from me!" Her voice is sharp and doused in hatred. I feel a dropping sensation in my stomach. Dread. Fear. Agony.

I ease back a step. "But, what about the presentation? We need you…"

She sniffles, wipes her eyes with her hand. "No, you don't. My poem is fucking shit. Nobody's gonna like it. I don't even like it. And I know you won't."

"Don't say that. I'm sure it's a great poe-"

She stands up. "Yeah sure, that's what you always say about stuff I do. You can quit being fake, I know you don't mean any of it."

I'm taken aback.

"Wh-what?"

"Seriously! Buying me food, reading with me, sitting with me at lunch? Saying how great my poems are? Nobody's ever given me that sort of attention before, it's weird!"

I feel my heart start to crack on the inside.

"Fine, let's say you are being genuine. Why do you do it, huh? Why are you care about me so much? Every time someone's even given me a shred of affection, it's because they wanted something from me! So what is it, then?!" Her voice cracks, enraged.

I'm speechless.

"I-I…I want…"

In life, you're expected to make big, great, possibly life-changing decisions on a daily basis.

It can be anything; a new backpack for school, a lease on an apartment, proposing to the love of your life, going left instead of right down a two-way road.

Even for the littlest of things, it can have a huge impact. Buying a certain bag over another, and getting noticed by the popular kids and growing to become more included in your social life. Signing a year long lease for an apartment that you find out has a bad issue with termites. Taking the left turn instead of the right and getting into a fatal accident.

The truth is, life is all about that, sometimes. Going into the unknown, taking a huge breath before diving into the water. If you constantly shield yourself from that which you don't know (or understand), you'll never experience life on the other side.

I really did take a huge gamble with that night. Reading that particular poem, walking a certain someone to class and taking the tardy for my own, going after Natsuki at the risk of ruining the whole performance...but knowing what I know now...I wouldn't dream of doing anything different.

Not for the world.

...

I pushed my lips to Natsuki's.

She tasted sweet, of strawberries and cherry blossoms. Her lips are soft and pert, silky as a baby's skin. I feel an immense heat rise to my cheeks, my face turning a deep shade of red.

For a brief moment, Natsuki does nothing, awash by the surprise of the moment. A few beats later, she pushes me in the chest, defensive (almost angry). "Hey, dumbass!" She growls. Why would you do that?!" Her voice is seething.

I immediately feel a hot wave of embarrassment and fear. Oh God I fucked up so bad she hates me and shes gonna tell everyone and I-

She grabs my blazer and pulls me in, relocking the kiss. Her arms wrap around my back, as I do the same. I can feel the quick rising and falling of her chest, the quick heartbeats as my chest presses against hers. We stay in this position for maybe fifteen, twenty seconds, the best of my life.

She breaks the kiss.

"I wanted to be the first one to do it."

We relock the kiss, for a few moments. We both fall back against the door of the clubroom for support. Natsuki's fingers dig into the back of my hair, enveloped in the moment. I adjust how I'm standing so I can bring her closer to me, her warmth radiating on my body.

My heart is pounding out of my chest, my mind still unable to comprehend this. It doesn't even feel real, my lips pressed against hers. The thing I've been praying to happen is happening.

She fucking likes me!

Finally, I pull away. "Hey, so um…"

She looks at me, slightly worried.

"We should... probably get back to the others."

"Ah...right…" she says, her voice low. She clearly didn't want this to end, at least not so soon.

I gingerly extend a hand out to her, which she happily takes. Her fingers entwined with mine, and we start to walk towards the stairs.

She nuzzles her head into my shoulder. I can feel her warmth on my shoulder, her cotton candy pink hair brushing against my blazer. I feel like i'm about to faint. Can this really be happening? Is this reality?

If this is heaven, I never want to leave.

We slowly make our way down the stairs outside, my hand locked with hers. Natsuki's hands were small, gentle, their small size dwarfed by mine. I could feel the shakiness in her hand slowly fade, her fingers clenched closer.

We move past the crowds of students, tracking our way back to the auditorium building. The back door was propped open just a crack, cool air from the inside blowing out through the crack. I quietly open the door, careful not to make too much noise.

Yuri and Sayori are standing by the door. A look of relief washes over their faces when they see us. Monika glances over, then back to the audience.

"Uh, would you excuse me, everyone?" She quickly clips the microphone back onto its stand and rushes down to meet us.

She quickly embraces Natsuki in a hug. "Oh, sweetheart are you okay? You had me worried to death! What happened?"

Natsuki squeezes my hand. "Ah, s-sorry Monika, I just, um...got stagefright. I'm okay now." She smiles slightly. Monika nods. "Alright. Do you think you can still perform?"

Natsuki nods.

"Okay, because you're next to go up honey. I've kinda been stalling for the past five minutes…"

Natsuki tenses up. "Wh-huh? Now? But ah…" She takes a moment to reaffirm herself, straightens up her posture, and takes a deep breath. "Yeah, I can go. Let's go."

"Okay! Good." Monika says with a smile. She turns to walk back to the microphone. Natsuki moves to join her, but I gently grab her hand.

"Natsuki."

She looks up at me. I don't think I've ever seen a pair of eyes as glossy, rosy or as perfect as hers.

I give Natsuki a quick peck on the cheek. Brief, but soft. Passionate. Filled with love. I see the redness return to her cheeks. She glances away from me.

"D-dummy…" I can't help but smile.

"And next up we have Natsuki! Let's give her a big round of applause!" Monika starts to walk back to where we are, making a small gesture with her hand to get going.

I gently put my hand on Natsuki's. "Okay, go." I say, motioning to the stage. Natsuki gingerly starts to walk out into the pale lights of the stage. Monika takes a spot next to me. Beneath her breath, I can hear Monika speak softly, pride lacing her voice. "I knew she had it in her…"

Natsuki slowly walks across the stage, unfolding her piece of paper and smoothening it out with her fingers. The polite applause from the audience continues for a few moments.

Dead silence follows.

Natsuki clears her throat.

"H-hello...my n-name is Natsuki Tamura and I'll b-be reading, um…"

She glances to us, off stage.

My mind doesn't think twice. I point to myself, make a heart gesture with my hands, and point back to her.

She glances back to the audience. "I'll be reading Because You, one of my personal favorite poems that I've written...for someone…"

I feel a warm smile spread across my face as my heart starts to flutter.

She adjusts the mic and starts to read.

"Because you,

Tomorrow will be brighter with me around
But when today is dim, I can only look down.
My looking is a little more forward

Because you look at me.

When I want to say something, I say it with a shout!
But my truest feelings can never come out.
My words are a little less empty

Because you listen to me.

When something is above me, I reach for the stars.
But when I feel small, I don't get very far.
My standing is a little bit taller

Because you sit with me.

I believe in myself with all of my heart.
But what do I do when it's torn all apart?
My faith is a little bit stronger

Because you trusted me.

My pen always puts my feelings to the test.
I'm not a good writer, but my best is my best.
My poems are a little bit dearer
Because you think of me.

Because you.

Because you.

Because you."

Chapter 14: Starved

Chapter Text

Five Months Earlier

The human body is, truly, a masterpiece of evolution.

Three million years ago, some groups of tree-dwelling apes that resided in the grasslands of Africa decided to climb down and live on the open fields. They were hunch-backed, not very intelligent, and easy pickings for something like a lion or a jaguar. There was nothing extraordinarily special about their species, perhaps doomed to be an easy lunch had the dominos of life not knocked in their favor.

Over time, those primitive apes started to stand upright, to be able to peer over the tall grass of the African fields. Over the course of millions of years, their brains doubled in size, they stopped slouching and grew stronger, learning to utilize tools and hunt for food and form tribes and clans and expand their influence across the planet. Three million years later, homo sapiens dominate the world.

Scientists estimate the normal human body has over ninety billion nerves, each delicately but precisely connected to function in perfect unison with one another. They control muscles, bones, arteries, organs, eyes, senses, all without ever stopping. Not a millisecond goes by without your body beating and flowing and rising and falling and expanding and living.

But, despite it's breakthroughs in evolution, the human body is susceptible to grave weaknesses. A strain of virus coursing through the bloodstream will ruin the inner systems of the body. A bite from a poisonous animal will send the poor victim into a coma. Fatigue. Concussions. Shock. Hypothermia.

And hunger.

The last decent meal Natsuki Tamura had eaten was around three or four days ago (she really can't remember), a pot of spicy noodles made up of various scraps of meats and whatever spices she had found in the cupboard. Her father had eaten a majority of it, leaving Natsuki with about two bowls for herself (plus the broth to turn into a soup she had already gone through).

He's eating, somewhere. Natsuki knows it. Out with his fucking friends or whatever cheap escort he could find at a low-rate rabuho. If he wasn't, he'd bring home the bare essentials and force her to make something for him (and leave her with whatever was left). Other than a new case of whiskey or whatever corner store hooch he can find, he never brought food home.

His daughter was an afterthought to him.

The ramen wasn't very filling, but it kept her from passing out from hunger. At least, for a few days. Usually there was just enough in the cupboards for a snack to make; a jelly sandwich, fried eggs, maybe oatmeal with some cinnamon, but she was running dangerously low on the bare essentials to make something edible, even with her cooking skills.

Had it not been for the two cases of protein bars she had been carefully rationing (and hiding from her father under her bed), Natsuki would have died a week ago. Stopped showing up to class, a welfare-call made, a body taken away in a draped sheet.

Would he even mourn?

School was always a drag. Natsuki would just blow through the work and write in her notebook until it was time to leave, but it was loads better than staying at home. Shut in her room with the door locked and barricaded. Headphones on, trying to let the world around her dissolve and disappear into the Internet. Constantly distracting her mind away from the biting, sinking feeling in her stomach, the growing shakiness in her arms, the rubberiness of her legs.

A feeling she hasn't escaped for maybe a solid week or so. It always crept on her.

There wasn't anything for her to do during lunch, aside from smell everyone else's food and try to fight off the hunger growling inside her. She didn't have many friends, and the few that she did have didn't share a lunch with her. Natsuki often just sat alone, her notebook open to a dog-eared page filled with prompts or a drawing. Hopefully she didn't look that pathetic to the people passing her by.

But then again, nobody ever stopped to say hello to her. Or ask how she was doing. Or acknowledge her.

Some things never change.

Natsuki sighed and closed her notebook, hastily shoving it into her bookbag. She couldn't even think; her hunger was growing.

Natsuki reached into her bag, digging for the protein bar she packed this morning. She at least had the foresight to pack one, something to snack on until she got home and ate a few more. She knew that there was at least one food pantry open, but that was a good several blocks away from her home. She could get home, gain some energy, and then try to-

It wasn't there.

Natsuki felt panic creep up her spine. She rooted into her bag faster.

At the bottom of her bag, she felt a slight tear in the fabric. She quickly lifted it up onto the table and looked at the bottom. A hole the width of a bottle had been torn open. Not big enough for something like a textbook to fall out, but the right size for...a protein bar.

The pink-haired girl felt a lead weight drop in her stomach.

"Now I'm really fucked.", she thought to herself. The wobbliness in her legs seemed to grow bigger, the fuzziness in her eyes streaking her vision.

Her mind clawed for a solution. She had to eat something.

Her mind buzzed, and a grim idea came forward.

It was desperate. It was weak.

It was weak and pathetic and could potentially get her in trouble and maybe even sent to a foster home if they found out the true extent of her home life, but Natsuki had to risk it. Otherwise she'd collapse in her next class.

Natsuki didn't think that the dumpsters behind the school had locks on them…

Hastily she stuffed her papers into her bag and slipped it over her shoulder. Slowly she started to walk out the cafeteria, walking past the long bulletin board across the wall…

She stopped, and glanced back at the wall.

Among the sea of posters and graphics and random slaptag arts, Natsuki saw a glimmer of pink.

It was a new poster, starkly different in design from the usual black-and-white posters whipped up in Microsoft Word in five minutes. This one was...genuine. A nicely printed sheet of paper with a stylized font. Little drawings of stacks of books and pens doting the corners.

At the top was the clubname, a drawing of a pen beside it.

"Doki Doki Literature Club."

...

"I can't believe you dragged me out of study hall just to help me look for your keychain."

"Awww, come on Monikaaa! What would you rather be doing; practicing on your little piano or spending time with your amazing vice president?"

Monika paused. Hidden from her view, a playful smirk crossed her face.

"Piano's pretty fun."

Walking behind her, Sayori stuck her tongue out. "Rude."

Nobody gave a second glance when Monika Sehlke and Sayori Asoka stepped into the cafeteria, brushing past the students going in and out the glass double doors. Monika's hair was let loose from her traditional ponytail, flowing freely down past her shoulders in glossy, perfect curtains. Sayori's hair was a bit of a mess, an ocean of coral-pink dotted by a lavender bow.

They had met completely on accident, but Monika still vividly remembers the day…

"That's not what I'm trying to say, but sure. Whatever, Alexis."

"Then what are you trying to say, Monika?"

"I just think that overall, the way we structure our arguments should be more passive than stating the facts all the time. It feels emotionless."

"Judges don't care for tears, they care for content."

"So? That doesn't mean that-"

CRASH!

Monika felt her olive green lunch tray flip into something, some one.  She felt drops of wetness fleck her cheeks, but otherwise didn't get anything on her. The sound of crashing silverware and broken plates echoed across the cafeteria.

Three hundred pairs of eyes turned to the sound.

Monika opened her eyes and gasped.

The girl she had walked into was staring down at the floor, hiding a wobbly frown. Monika took her in; shorter than her, coral-pink hair, red bow, unbuttoned blazer.

A blazer, vest and skirt now smeared with a healthy serving of ranch dressing, tomatoes and lettuce.

The entire world stared at the kettle of awkwardness. Monika Sehlke just dumped her lunch on some random girl.

"O-oh my gosh!" Monika stammered. "I-I'm so sorry! Uhh, let me just-"

Monika reached out to try and remove some of the pieces of salad clinging to the coral-haired girls blazer, but she spun on her heel and ran away, dropping her own small plate. Monika could head ugly sobs trailing from her.

Monika didn't even think twice. She started to call after her, ignoring the stares following her. "Ah, wait! I'm sorry!" She quickly left the cafeteria, trying to stop the girl.

After searching the school halls for a bit, Monika found a dirty blazer slumped against the door of a bathroom, not far from the cafeteria. Monika went inside and saw only a pair of feet in one of the stalls, an orange blazer crumpled beside it. Monika could hear quiet sobs coming from the stall.

"Hello?" Monika cautiously said aloud.

The sobs stopped for a beat. A sniffle.

"Y-yes, t-that's my b-blazer out there. I'm s-sorry, I-I just-"

"No no, I'm not a faculty. I'm the…" Monika trailed off. "I'm the girl you walked into."

Silence. "Oh...I-I'm still s-sorry..." Another sob.

"No no, it's all my fault. I'm really sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going a-and I...I have some wet wipes in my bag if you need them, if you'll let me help you try to clean your clothes off."

A deathly silence rung in Monika's ears.

"Please."

The bathroom stall clicked open, and the girl slowly stepped out. Puffy redness circled her eyes. An attempt was made to clean the salad off herself, to little effect.

Monika sighed. "Well, I do have some clean clothes in my bag if you want them, um...what's your name?"

"S-S-Sayori…" the girl mumbled, barely audible.

Monika still remembers helping Sayori clean up in the bathroom, helping her re-do some of her makeup and giving her the spare clothes she kept in her bag (because if a zombie apocalypse were to strike Japan, Monika Sehlke would be prepared with a shotgun and first aid kit in her bag).

After that, Monika had asked for her number, in an attempt to make 'peace' and be friends with her. Monika gave it completely expecting it to not go anywhere (I mean, would you want to talk to a stranger that dumped their lunch on you, accident or not?), but Sayori was actually the first to text, later that night.

It was a cat meme.

The two became fast friends. As it turns out, Monika has a lot in common with Sayori, a lot more than she did with her friends from debate or politics club or the honor society. They liked the same music, the same make-up, the same movies, the same snacks, the same...well, you get the idea. They were practically like sisters, in that sense.

And Sayori was so...wholesome.

It mystified Monika how the human embodiment of a puppy could be so confident and happy almost all the time. Even things that would piss the hell out of most people didn't even faze Sayori.

Like this one time the two went out to eat together at this cafe. After waiting 20 minutes to be served, they were presented with the wrong order. While Monika was fuming and ended up waiting another 10 minutes for the food she ordered to arrive, Sayori didn't even seem to notice that she was not given what she paid for. The second the plate was in front of her, she started to chow down.

After they left, Monika asked her about it. "You know that food they gave you wasn't yours, right?"

Sayori gave her club president a puzzled look. "Really?"

"Yeah, you ordered the chicken alfredo and got coconut shrimp."

Sayori thought about it for a beat.

"Oh yeahhh...well, it was still good anyway!" she said, before happily skipping to the street corner to press the crosswalk button.

When life gives you lemons.

Where Monika gave Sayori tips on make-up, fashion, and studying, Sayori returned the favor by a genuine friend. Best friends. They texted daily, occasionally video-chatting from their houses, laying in their beds. Monika had even invited Sayori to spend the night a few times at her house ("It's like a castle!", Sayori first exclaimed when she was greeted).

And eventually, the two came up with the idea of starting a club together.

"What even makes you so sure you left it here?" Monika said, pausing to take a sip from her water bottle.

"Because I had to have! I had it in gym class, I had it in biology, I had it in chem lab, I had it in lunch, and now I don't have it! Ergo, I had to have left it here...somehow."

Monika rolled her eyes. "Can't you just get a new one?"

Sayori seemed aghast at the thought. "Of course not!"

"How come?"

"B-because, Monika! That one was special! I got it at the Osaka Film, Dance and Art Festival! I don't even remember what artist it was!"

"Mmm...fine." Monika said, accepting she was gonna be forced to look for it anyway. "But don't blame me if I can't find it."

The two walked up to the second floor seating area, which offered a sweeping view of the entire cafeteria building. Rows and rows of tables full of students stretching back, circled by a lavish water fountain. Sunlight streamed through the wall-to-wall windows.

The booth Sayori and Monika sat at earlier was empty. Sayori skipped towards it and started to pat the seats down, intently searching.

"Mmm...I don't see it." Sayori mumbled. Monika glanced at the other tables. Surprisingly, nobody else was up here.

"What about the stairs? Maybe it fell off your bag when you were trying not to trip down them." Monika said, hiding a smirk.

Sayori glanced up and shot Monika a look. "Rude." Sayori brushed past Monika and started to slowly inspect the stairs like a union investigator looking for cracks in the cement. Monika sat at the top of the stairs, pausing to check her phone.

After a minute of hard looking, Sayori leaned back up straight. "Nooo...no luck." A frown creased Sayori's face. "Maybe it's somewhere…" the bow-headed girl trailed off. "Monny, look."

"I'm looking, Sayori." Monika mumbled, a little peeved Sayori called her by her "nickname".

Sayori tugged Monika up at her sleeve. "No, look.", she said, pointing into space.

Monika sighed and glanced up from her phone. She looked down to where Sayori was pointing, off towards the bulletin board. She could see it-well, her.

Someone was looking at their poster.

"You know," Sayori said. "I think that's the first time I've seen anyone even look twice at our poster."

Monika frowned. She knew Sayori was right; it had been two weeks since the Literature Club officially formed, and there wasn't any hope of a new member. Monika had tried her best to sway some of her friends to join, but they always phonied up some lame excuse to not go to at least one meeting.

So much for friends, Monika thought to herself.

Her eyes skitted back to the pink-haired girl, still looking at the poster. She had to be, Monika thought. Or, hoped she was.

"Maybe we should go talk to her?"

"What? Isn't that weird?"

"Oooonly if you make it weird!" Sayori said with a smile that could melt hearts. Monika glanced at Sayori, her eyes eager.

She only sighed.

"Fine, but you start talking to her first."

...

"Like to read? Love poetry? Enjoy a cup of tea and a good book? Then join the Literature Club, with meetings every Wednesday after school! We hope to see you there!~"

Natsuki reread the poster again and again.

A literature club? She didn't know Yamaku had one. How long has this poster been here? Maybe it was put up yesterday. Didn't Yamaku need five members to become an official club? Who was in charge of the club? A teacher? Monika Sehlke sounded like a teacher's name.

The idea of joining a club was one Natsuki hadn't considered. When the semester started, Natsuki had ruled off just about every club that was available at the time, except for the anime club. She remembers going to the next meeting that week and being forced to make small talk with the, shall you say...bottom-feeders of the social food chain. While the rest of the club sat around and watched Darling in the Franxx and made jeers when Zero-Two's ass was in frame.

Natsuki didn't go back after that. She couldn't help but see there were no other girls at that meeting.

Still, maybe this Literature Club was different. Instead of mouth-breathers and boys who could used some dandruff shampoo, it would be a club full of bookworms and future Harvard graduates. She could fit in, right? Then again, all she ever read was manga-

"Heya!"

Natsuki almost leaped out of her skin.

"Oh, sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!" the voice said, giggling.

Natsuki turned to face the voice. A girl, a little taller than her, with a beaming smile and hair like the prettiest colors of a sunset. Behind her was an attractive looking girl, with flowing brown hair and emerald green eyes. She looked rather embarrassed, pretending to type at her shut-off phone.

"I just umm, couldn't help but see you were looking at...that-poster! Yeah." The bow-headed girl tripped over her words a little.

Natsuki blushed. How long did they watch her just stare at this piece of paper? They probably came here to laugh at her.

"Oh um, yeah...I was just interested in this club flyer...thing. Yeah…" Natsuki almost mumbled that last part.

"Oh, cool! Dooo you have any questions?"

Natsuki blinked. "Questions?"

"Yeah! You aaare talking to the president and vice-president, after all." the bow-headed girl said proudly.

The emerald eyed girl seemed to blush, sinking deeper into embarrassment. She must've put her up to this.

"Yyyeahh, uhhh, hi..." the pretty girl finally said. "My name's Monika and this is Sayori. Like she said, we're in charge of the Literature Club

"Ahhh, Natsuki. Nice to meet you both."

There was a pause.

"What-umm...wh-what do y'all usually do there? A-at the literature club." Natsuki finally said.

"Oh, welllll…" Monika trailed off. "We usually just sit around and talk about a certain book or a concept. Since we just started we haven't made an offical schedule or anything, but we did want to start reviewing one during today's meeting."

"Um, how many people are in the club?"

Monika glanced at Sayori, who gave a slightly downcast expression.

"We uhhhh, ahah...i-it's just us two so far." Monika said sheepishly.

"Ahhh, I see.", Natsuki said.

Just them two? They don't seem like the snooty types to me. Maybe it's not how I thought it would be…

Monika tried to keep the ball rolling. "Wwwwwellll, like the poster says, we're having a meeting today if you'd want to stop by. We have drinks and snacks and stuff, and we picked out a topic that we think is pretty interesting."

It sounded painfully sad, but Natsuki's interest grew a lot more at the promise of free food.

"Oh, that sounds cool." Natsuki said, trying to walk the line between genuine interest and not being too interested. "What's the topic you picked?"

"Japanese comics, specifically manga and stuff like that.."

Was this club made for her or something? This had to be a calling of some kind, Natsuki thought. Food, people that might enjoy her presences, and talking about her favorite thing in the world?

Natsuki smiled dimly. "What room is it in?"

At least she's asking where it is, Monika thought to herself. "Room 217. In the seniors building."

Natsuki shifted the bookbag hanging off her shoulder. "Wel, IIIII'll be sure to drop by then, Monika."

Monika smiled brightly. "Awesome! Guess we'll see you then!" She nudged Sayori on the shoulder, who was busy staring at a bird perched against the window. "Excuse us, but we need to get to our class."

And with that, the pair made their way out the door even doors.

Natsuki took a moment to process what had just happened. Not only had she (seemingly) made two new friends, but now she also had a reason to stay out of the house more even if it was just for a day a week. Suddenly, the gnawing feeling in her stomach seemed to wash away, taken over by a sense of...purpose. Something to look forward to, at least.

I wonder what kind of snacks they have.

Chapter 15: Would Anybody Like Some Wine?

Chapter Text

The rooftop to the Yamaku High School seniors wing was supposed to be locked, but even the toughest of locks can be manipulated by a simple, candy-red bobby pin.

The roof opened up to a surprisingly barebones patio area, a curved row of wood benches encircling a low, flat table. A simple chain link fence ran along the perimeter of the roof. Typical schoolyard gravel made up the floor. The roof itself was about three stories above the ground, overlooking the courtyard and rest of the school festivities going on below. If you turned around, you could stare across the rows and rows of tiny little houses and shops that made up Edogawa. Squint, and you could just barely see the Tokyo skyline.

As the sun began to fall, the town of Edogawa transformed into a twinkling mass of hazy yellow and white lights ,sparkling against the sky. Sunset reflected across the stringy clouds, cotton candy puffs of orange and pink. Even so many miles away from the signature landmark, you could make out the bold outline of Mt. Fuji as the waves of blushy orange sunset morphed into somber blue and black. Squint, and you could make out the first stars starting to twinkle in the sky.

"Oh, come oooon, Monika!" Natsuki jeered, leaning on the shoulder of her president. "It's the last day before the break! Loosen up! Live a little!"

Monika couldn't help but scoff at the carefree remark. "You can loosen up, I'll make sure I can go back to this school when break ends."

As much as Monika would like to kick back and finally start to relax, this was going a bit far. I mean, underage drinking? On school property? What was she, a Yakuza now? While taking a few swigs from the jager bottle wouldn't bat anyones eye back in Poland, this is Japan. While it's true that most kids who drink don't get frisked about it, Lord help you if you do get caught. The last thing Monika Sehlke wanted to have on her uneditable school record was an arrest and a hefty fine for drinking a glass of some cheap sake.

But here she was, resigned to the role of babysitter to a quartet of schoolchildren eager to get drunk.

As she walked up the dusty stairs leading up to the roof, Monika couldn't help but wonder; out of anyone in the Literature Club, why was Yuri the one supplying the booze? And how did she know how to pick a lock? And why was she the driving force (aside from Natsuki) convincing us to go up here and drink, anyway?

And why did she fucking have a bottle of wine to begin with?

The Literature Club (Yuri, Natsuki, Sayori and Kazuma) took spots at the table, with Natsuki and an increasingly concerned/bemused looking Kazuma sitting almost shoulder to shoulder. Yuri carefully set a small glass in front of everyone. Lifting it out of her bag, the violet-haired girl started to set up a wine cooler on a tiny plastic stand.

"Look, Monika.", Natsuki said, playing with her wine glass with her index finger. "Nobody even knows were up here. Everyone's down at the festival, remember? For all anybody knows, nobody is even in the building. There's absolutely nothing to worry about."

Monika didn't say anything in reply.

"Monikaaaaa." Natsuki said, her voice dripping with smugness. "You knowwww I'm riiiight."

"Yeah, Moni, come onnnn." Sayori said, gently poking her superior club member in the cheek. "You knowwww she's riiiight."

"You knooowww," Monika said, putting a protective hand against her cheek to block Sayori's finger." I still have your keychain from the last time you came over, Sayori. So if you want it back, I would suggest you knock it off." Monika said, her voice taking on a flat tone. Sayori reeled back, wounded by the notion she would never ever ever give back her lucky mini ramen noodle cup (with a cute little piece of broccoli floating in it).

Resigned, Sayori turned to look at the duo sitting next to her.

"Soooo…"

Kazuma gave Sayori a bemused, almost genuinely confused look. "Soooo…?"

"What took you two so look when you were coming back to the stage?"

Hot red blushes ran to their faces.

Monika leaned over to Yuri, who was pausing from setting up to start a playlist on her phone. Her voice was low. "You know, you don't really strike me as the drinking type, Yuri." Yuri only laughed. "Well, on any other day, I would absolutely be against something like this. But…" she paused. "It's like Natsuki said; it's the last day of break. Why not take a moment to enjoy ourselves?"

Monika glanced back at the three Literature club members, two of the which now trying to rid the burned redness on their faces. Natsuki was holding up her hand to her face, while Kazuma kept his eyes down.

"We've done nothing but work hard and study even harder this semester. We've hardly had a chance to relax or enjoy a day to ourselves. Exams were certainly an obstacle we had to grieve and stress over, atop of our homework and everything else. So, why not simply relax for a bit? And, after all, it's almost the New Year; a time for festivities and fun. It would be a crime to skip out on a chance like this."

"Hm...I suppose you're right." Monika glanced back with uncertainty at the exit door leading downstairs. "But aren't you worried we'll get caught? Certainly someone is going to wonder where we were. Or is somebody saw us…"

Yuri seemed unfazed. "It's like Natsuki said; everyone is attending the festival. Not a single person is in this area of the school. All the activity is down there." Yuri said, making a gesture to the rows of temporary booths scattering the courtyard. Monika muttered to herself, still uncertain. Even Yuri, who Monika always viewed as the mature one of her group, was behind this to and through.

The glasses quickly filled up. Everyone picked up their glasses, eager to take their first drink.

Monika just stared at hers.

"Seriously? You're not even gonna take a sip?" Natsuki said, giving her a pointed look.

Monika stared down at the glass, watching the drink ripple ever so slightly. Down below, she could hear the chatter and laughter of all the people enjoying the festival. Even all the way up on the roof, she could smell the freshly cooked food, the candles, the smoke from the sparklers. The festivities were in full swing, and in a few hours the fireworks festival would begin.

Monika blinked harshly, as if she signed away some part of her dignity in a single moment.

She raised her glass.

"To the Literature Club!" she announced with pride.

The other four raised their glasses up to clink.

"To the Literature Club!"

Hours Later

Head resting in her folded arm, Sayori slowly poked the half-empty wine cooler out of sheer boredom, listening to the slosh slosh slosh of what was left of the wine inside the container. The box slowly teetered to one side...then the other...then the other…then the other-

"Sayori." Monika said, breaking the silence.

Lazily, Sayori glanced at her superior. "Mmmmm?"

Monika gently pushed her four-times drained wine glass to her vice-president. "Pour me a glasssss….ssshshshshshsh…" Monika's voice trailed off, not sure where it wanted to stop talking. What little strength she had that was pushing the glass to Sayori faded, and she stopped halfway.

"So, I was just thinking…" a woozy Natsuki said from underneath the table, laying down on her bench with her head resting in Kazuma's lap. "What if we…" Natsuki stopped. "What if...w-w-what if we just…" Natsuki stopped again. "What i-what if we-" Natsuki giggled to herself, failing for the third time to comprehend her original point.

Kazuma slowly stroked Natsuki's hair, his free hand slowly rubbing her chin. "Shhh...shhhh...don't think too hard Natsuki, you'll hurt yourself."

Natsuki didn't say anything for a moment, trying to register what her dummy just said. Slowly, a pointed look formed on her face. "What does that mean?", she finally said, an edge of tsundere anger in voice.

"Ahhh…" Kazuma paused, himself trying to think of a response. "Just

"Sh-shut up...just keep rubbing my head." Natsuki slurred.

"As you wish, my dear princess." Kazuma replied cooly.

Natsuki blushed, smiling slightly. Kazuma slowly rubbed the pink-haired girls head, his other hand slowly rubbing against her stomach.

Sayori drained the last of her glass and gently set it down on the table. "So what are we gonna try to d-d-do after the break, Monikaaa?"

Sayori glanced at Monika.

Monika was snoring quietly, her head buried under her folded arms, hair flipped over herself like a curtain.

"Monika." Sayori repeated.

No response.

"MONIKA!" Sayori yelled.

The club president awoke with a stupor. "Wh-huh? What, I'llll ssstudy laterrrr, godddamnit!" She growled, drunk anger lacing her voice.

"WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO AFTER THE BREAK!" Sayori yelled, as if she was trying to talk in the middle of a monster truck show.

"Hhhh...I don't know…' Monika was silent for about 10 seconds. "...books…"

Sayori looked at the ground, the gears in her head turning.

"Books...booksbooksbooks…" Sayori repeated the word as if she had never once heard it before. "What a...weeeeird...wordd…books are weird."

Monika squinted. "Don't talk about b-b-books like that.", she said, actually sounding insulted by the comment.

Natsuki slowly rose from lying down on the bench like a mummy rising from a sarcophagus, getting up to the table.

"Yeah, well, just don't' say that-EEEEEEEE!" Natsuki cut herself off with a shrill scream.

There was a loud shooooom! as the first firework speared into the sky, a white trail of smoke in its wake. BOOOOMcrackacrackacrackle! The firework burst into a colorful spiral of gold and white, lighting up the black night sky. The sound was so loud and so close, you could feel the boom of the sound ripple against your skin.

"Wooooahhhh…!" Sayori gasped, arching her head back to stare directly up at the fireworks. Monika glanced up, a drunk smile rising to her face.

Underneath the table, Natsuki's hands quickly reached out to entwine with Kazuma's. The boy quickly returned the gesture.

For a blissful minute, it was just them four silently watching the fireworks shoot up into the sky and explode with a dazzling display. Down below, the cheers of the students grew louder, rising and falling with each new explosion.

Suddenly.

"Wheeeeeeeee! WOOooOOoO!"

The four club members turned around.

Speeding around the empty roof area was Yuri, clutching to the arm-rests of a leather swivel chair she was propeling across the roof by kicking the ground. Squeezed between her thighs was a sloshing wine bottle, the maroon liquids spilling out in droplets on the ground. Her dark violet hair blew in the wind, her blazer tied around her neck like a cape. The lights from the fireworks briefly illuminated her in short bursts, showing her vest was slightly damp from being unable to properly polish off the wine bottle.

"Ahahahahaaaaaaaa! This is sooo much fuuuun! Wheeee!"

Sayori, Monika, Natsuki and Kazuma just stared in silence at their drunk bookworm friend, racing around the roof by herself, making car engine noises and spinning in circles. The chair made a sharp turn and tipped over. Yuri fell and rolled across the ground, the wine bottle rolling away from her. Monika and Sayori drunkenly snapped to attention and rose from their spots to assist their fallen clubmate, now rolling around on the ground and laughing her head off.

Kazuma turned to Natsuki.

"W-we should've just stayed in the clubroom."

Chapter 16: Reflections

Chapter Text

Rain drizzled down in random sheets, gently spilling down the curved bells of the black umbrellas that crowded in this tiny space of grass. The gloomy storm clouds silently swirled in the air, but threatened to bring more down.

I could feel everything. The way my hand gripped against the rough plastic of my handle, the way my ill-fitted suit clung to my shirt, the sweat dripping down my spine to my legs. HOw much these damn dress shoes hurt. Everything and nothing was aware right now, as my mind spun in cruise control. I struggled to fight back tears once again.

"Sayori's life will forever echo as one of joy and compassion. Since she was a toddler she spent her days bubbly with laughter, working to keep a wide smile upon everyone she came across. Yet, we failed her. We could never make her feel the same way." The pastor droned on, my mind barely registering his words.

Soon came the viewing of the deceased. I stood behind Mr. and Mrs. Asoka.

I lurched forward, my whole body feeling stiff from the weeks of sleepless nights, the crying, the clutching of a knife to my wrist but lacking the energy to pull.

She was so beautiful, even in death. The makeup that brought out the rosy pink that always flushed her cheeks, how her coral pink hair matched so perfectly with that velvet red ribbon. Her dress was an elegant white, done in a knitted style with a sunflower pin tucked at her chest. A bouquet of flowers laid at her stomach, her gentle fingers tucked to hold-

Her eyes snapped open.

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̵̱̚S̸̛̗͈͕̹̀̚͠Ạ̷͋̊̉͋Y̶͕̤̊͛̿Ò̵͎̽R̶̘͙̽̈̊̀Ḭ̷̺͚̘̓̄̔̅

I snapped awake, gasping for air. The lights in my room were off, only the warm glow of a street lamp leaking in from my window. Through blurry vision, I caught the time; 2:17am.

I propped myself up and felt a crunching pain in my side. Slept on the wrong side again.

I took a gulp of air in and swung myself upright, taking a moment to pop my neck. I glanced down at my nightstand and snatched the bottle of water I always kept there, and drained its contents. I licked at my teeth, tasting like shit.

With that nightmare still fresh in my mind, I reflected.

It has been almost six months since her...attempt. Sayori had been making good progress with her therapy appointments. Doctor Yang was an especially considerate man, as I got to know from attending some sessions by her side, our hands clenched together. Yes, I cried. At times. No shame in crying, of course. A lot of things that needed to be said were said. Sayori's medication, some sort of antidepressant and mind boost to her attentiveness, were showing good signs. She of course was the same old Sayori, but certain aspects of her personality felt...restrained. This of course was natural, what with taking mind-changing drugs and all, but it wasn't something that she liked. At the next appointment she and her parents would bring it up to Doctor Yang.

But, nevertheless, improvements were underway. Her marks were skyrocketing, attendance was near perfect, and her teachers were beginning to take notice. Her writing seemed to shift in a sense, from more bubbly and lighthearted to more serious and even thought-provoking (coming from Sayori this was something). She never wrote about her attempt directly, but rather made analogies. The thought itself was just too...painful.

If one "good" thing came out from any of this, it was the solidifying of our status as best friends, just like in our childhood. Our parents were ecstatic of course, getting to host their former get togethers and dinner parties and outings and the likes, something they last did when we were in middle school. It felt like old times; she practically came over to hang out every other weekend. Watching movies and playing PS4 and going out on friend dates to the mall or theme parks. For the first time in a long while, I finally felt...at peace.

I grabbed my phone and opened up my messages, scrolled to our tab.

Are ya up stupid

Sent.

I smirked.

I propped my window open and poked my head outside. At this hour, the streets were dead quiet, if only for the sound of lonesome street cats, meowing quietly to an audience of none. It was so quiet, you could hear the buzzing of the fluorescent lights in the streetlamps. It was still quite dark out, the sun not let brightening up the sky.

Staring across to Sayori's room, her house was dark, windows drawn down. No activity to speak of.

I shook my head. Ach, probably shouldn't be trying to wake her. No sense stirring her at this hour.

I turned to look at my desk. It was about my height, done in cherrywood color and has built in bookshelves stuffed with textbooks I didn't even use. A simple grey laptop rested, next to some scratch paper and a box of pens. Candy wrappers littered nearby, with a very graffitied-up calendar hanging down.

I sat down at my desk and flicked on my lamp. Light glowed against the board I had put up against the wall, in this small space.

Lots of photos were tacked on, a sort of scrapbook I had created weeks ago, with help of my new best friends, the Doki Doki Literature Club. There were a lot of different things; Monika and myself's "road trip" to Taito City to pick up some new banners for the club. A return trip to that bookstore I first met Yuri at to discuss Subject DX, one of her new horror thrills. A day at the mall with Sayori. A field day to the Tokyo Zoo for some...creative insight (andYuriwantedtorideanelephantuntilshewasinformedtheydontdothatanymore).

Natsuki Tamura, the love of my life, had her own section of the board.

A pic Sayori took of me bridal-carrying Natsuki up the stage for karaoke, one duet and one romantic serenade that brought down the house. One of those cheesy photo booths with four mini snaps on it. A on-in-a-million snap of Natsuki getting her hair gnawed on by a friendly giraffe (Monika had a theory that the giraffe thought it was cotton candy, which only pissed Natsuki off even more).

My eyes fell upon that candid pose, of my baby girl swatting away a giraffe like a common house fly (Jeremy, as he was named, didn't take very kindly and spit up half-digested carrots at her).

I suspected something was just...off...about Natsuki's home life.

I have my suspicions, but it's not like I can act on them. Nor can I ask, even if I'm her boyfriend and all.

Natsuki vehemently says I can't meet her dad, at least not yet. Would blow any boys head off with the shotgun he keeps under his bed. Didn't like her last "boyfriend" (which she insisted was some middle school crush and not a real thing but I didn't mind, I mean...Sailor Jupiter was MY middle school crush, so). Always had work to do and never would see him anyway, works late into the night and all. It was either this or that or the other thing. I had only seen a few older pics of her dad, with a younger Natsuki bouncing on his shoulder with pigtails and a blue duckie dress and a pouty frown on her face.

Nothing from this decade. For a while, I thought nothing really of these things. They all seemed so logical.

Then I started noticing bruises on her.

"Baby...what happened?"

I hadn't heard from her in a few days, and she had been absent from the most recent Literature Club meetings. Nobody had been able to reach her, and her activity laid dormant. Only this morning did she text the main group chat, saying she was out of town unexpectedly and that she would be back in class today.

We made a promise to meet up just before the club meeting today.

I didn't notice it when we first embraced, but when we pulled away I almost gasped out loud. Although the concealer did some magic, there was a flush shade of purple, yellow and green ringing around my love's right eye. The flesh was slightly puffy, but the major swelling had subsided. Her actual irises showed light red tinting, a sign of crying, but I didn't pick up on that at the time.

"Oh I um...haha, it's kind of silly, really." She said. Her tone of voice shifted, in a way I wasn't really familiar.

I took her hand and kissed it. "Tell me."

"Hmph." She turned a cheek. "No."

I cozied up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist. I kissed her neck.

"Tell meee…"

"N-noo…"

"Hmmm…"

I leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, just below the bruise but not directly on it.

"Please?"

She scoffed. "Cheaaaap, cheeeap move."

...

"I just uh, ran into a door."

I paused. "Ran into a door huh?"

"Yeah, this fucking car. It just, well I wasn't looking anyway and the guy swung his door open and I was close to the curb. It was the mirror, not the door itself."

"They make cars this short?" I said, lowering my hand to her neck.

"Mmmm…" Natsuki placed a pondering finger on her cheek, and quickly swung a punch into my arm. I reeled back in genuine pain; when she wants to, Natsuki can pack a punch.

"Owww…!"

She started laughing. "Dummy mode onnnn."

"Christ, that actually hurt, ya know." I said, rubbing my arm gingerly.

She leaped up and pecked a kiss on my cheek. "Did that help some?" she said with a grin.

I chuckled. "A little."

My finger rubbed against the film of the Polaroid pic.

Whatever is truly going on, I know I'll always be there at her side.

Always.

Chapter 17: The T(s)un Rises in the East

Chapter Text

"...in other news, the United States Army and JSDF are scheduled to play war games in the Sea of Japan through next week, less than 300 miles from Tokyo Bay. The war games are routine for the superpower nations, but are of heightened importance as North Korea continues it's threats of nuclear conflict against the newly-inaugurated US President. Leader Kim Jong-un reaffirmed his plans to expand North Korea's nuclear arsenal while tentatively leaving the door open to future peace summits with the South. Prime Minister Abe's office was unavailable for comment at press time."

"As tensions bubble between the US and North Korea, the JSDF has taken great strides to prepare itself for potential war. Increased military presence has been reported in the west coastal cities of Kanazawa, Niigata and Fukuoka, with troops setting up sentry posts around the coastline and evacuation drills of local prefectures becoming a daily occurrence. Tedious for the locals, to be sure, but no measure is too much when it comes to defending Japan and the people that love her."

"This is Maya Takanuki with 99.1 J-KSS, the ooonly radio station you need for the Tokyo metro area."

The radio drifted off into a somber jazz piece. There was a slight overcast hugging the sky, but sunshine still streamed through breaks in the clouds. A passing shower, the muggy weather was due to clear up in the next few minutes or so. The streets were damp, and I could smell the sweetish scent of dew clinging to the air through my open window. It was still plenty bright outside, and the weather was supposed to be cool all night.

I took a moment to take in Natsuki's neighborhood. I remember once my father told me that this district was a fairly recent development (by his time), sprung up in the 70s following renewed interest in expanding the Japanese economy after the Vietnam War, but it's roots began with Reconstruction following the Second World War. This district was home to a lot of retired American war veterans from conflicts past, where they worked at the US military bases, married locals and became integrated with Japanese culture and community. As a result, these houses were different from the traditional, many century-old houses common in Edogawa and were designed heavily with Western influence. Many of the houses were of much sturdier construction, using concrete and rebar instead of wood and brick. All of the homes had a dedicated lawn, a mailbox stand and walk-up driveway, something you'd only find in the wealthiest neighborhoods of the ward.

It was actually quite bizarre seeing these neat rows and rows of houses like this; the average Japanese suburb had apartments and homes almost spilling on top of each other as space was so constricted. Never in my life had I lived in a home with a garden bigger than a living room. These homes were like castles, with sharp edges, thick material and, how you say, flamboyant decorations. Every other house had the flag of the United States hanging from it. This was an unnerving cookie cutter block, like it was straight out of a catalog.

Dad sarcastically called it Gaijin Boulevard.

I folded my arms over the steering wheel and set my chin on top of them. I scoffed; Americans. My watch beeps and I glanced down to check it; a quarter to seven. Looking up again, I stared out the window at Natsuki's house.

Where on Earth was she? She was supposed to be out half an hour ago already. Should I text her again? Did she forget? No, why would she forget? She had been talking so eagerly about tonight yesterday on the roof. It wouldn't just slip her mind.

Out of all the houses on the street, Natsuki's was the one that stuck out to me. Where the rest of the block had fresh paint and neatly trimmed lawns, Natsuki's seemed...dilapidated. The lawn was green but had dead yellow patches. The American and Japanese flags hanging side-by-side from the patio were slightly tattered. The coral pink paint on the side was peeling white in places. At the second floor, it looked like the windows facing the street were actually blacked out. The mailbox had its flag raised and a magazine sticking out. It had a certain neglect to it, but just enough to keep it respectable among the other houses on the street. Otherwise the house seemed ordinary with a swept driveway, a patio with antique-looking furniture and a modest red/yellow flower bed lining the bottom of the small home.

Well, at least it seemed the smallest. Natsuki had specifically asked me to idle not in front of her house, but a block down the street from it. I was parked on the other lane and she was at the very end of the road, so I couldn't make out the details perfectly but decent enough. Her reasoning was justified; her dad was still in the dark about our relationship and she didn't want him finding out.

I leaned back in my seat.

When were we gonna go public? Well, in a sense we already were public, but, y'know, names in each others bios public. We held hands at school, and on our mini-dates we might as well be attached to the hip. Tonight was gonna be the first time we were out in public, and…it made my chest heave. A big step. Not that I was in a rush for that step; I was the happiest man in Tokyo as far as I knew, but we had to meet each other's parents eventually? The Literature Club knew, and Sayori was perhaps our number one shipper. My friend Shinjuku from typing class knew. One of Monika's old debate club friends made a comment when she stopped by the club about how cute we were together (hmm, I wonder how she found out?). I'm at least 85 percent sure my parents know something's up, when my dad made a comment at breakfast that I 'was always grinning when my phone went off' nowadays. But when it came to Natsuki's dad, I didn't know…well, anything.

I kept thinking about that bruise on her when she came back from having to go out of town 'unexpectedly'.

It was already a few weeks since then, and I haven't seen anything else like that on her since. The bruise healed in a few days and Natsuki just kinda laughed it off after. We never missed a club meet, and not more than a few days would go by without texting each other, so we were always in each other's reach. Still, I kept thinking about how the bruise discolored her face so much. Like, a car door did that? Nats may have her clumsy moments, but I couldn't imagine her just running into something like that for it to bruise up so much. It just sounded…like an excuse.

I mean, it's just a suspicion. I've haven't actually seen anything happen to her, and I've never even met her dad. But I'm her boyfriend; if something's hurting her, it's my responsibility to know about it and help her right? I don't know, maybe the situation with Sayori just made me more springy and paranoid to these things. She was making great strides with her therapy, but there was always that feeling of uneasiness. It changed all of us, and even now none of us were really–

Commotion at the door. I perked up and started the engine.

Under the dim light out stepped a princess in a sleek satin red dress. A white frill lined the bottom of the dress, with open shoulders. Even from here I could see she did her hair differently, trading her red ribboned pigtails for a thick braid swept in front of her right shoulder. The other side of her hair was neatly combed down, and the red clip was now a decorative piece instead of functional. Black shoes and a matching purse over her shoulder to boot.

I let out a quiet 'woah' to myself. How could one girl be so damn hot? She was like a diamond, perfect from every angle. But when you hold her up to the light…she shimmers.

Natsuki fumbled with a set of keys and quickly locked the door. She stepped down from the patio, walked to the street and glanced around, almost…panicked? Anxious? She dug into her purse and pulled out her phone.

Uhhh.

I flickered my headlights on and off. Natsuki spun around to the light and waved at me with a wide smile. Gripping her purse, she started to speed walk down the street.

Ohfuckohfuckohfuckherewego. I adjusted the mirror and looked at myself, teasing my already gelled-up hair back. I tightened my black tie up some and brushed some spotted lint off my blazer. I took a deep breath. Don't overthink it. I can bring it up later.

I stepped out to the front of the car and waited, straightening my blazer out. Natsuki's kitten heel shoes clacked against the street as she crossed over. I bowed slightly, smiling.

"Good evening, ma'am. I'll be your limo driver for the night." I opened the door and gestured inside. "Ready for the prom?"

Natsuki giggled and playfully patted me on the cheek. "Only if I'm still going with the cutest boy in the world.", she said before she leaned in for a kiss.

Passing through the low-hanging suburbs and thick rooted trees that lined Edogawa, the beautiful Tokyo skyline finally emerged as we cruised across the Rainbow Bridge into the city. Towering and twisting skyscrapers were like little bento boxes compared to the monolith Skytree structure, done up in brilliant shades of crystalline blue-white tonight. Dusk was here, and the first stars were already beginning to twinkle in the night sky. The freeway was relatively quiet, a lot more cars trying to exit the city in the oncoming lane than those coming in. Not surprising for this time of night, with people eager to get home from work. From the bridge crossing, only ten minutes to Tokyo Tower, where the better part of the evening would be spent.

The windows down, we screamed the lyrics to Plastic Love.

The entire car ride had been a karaoke sesh. Something I found out the night of the festival months back was that Natsuki actually has quite an incredible singing voice, a master of vibrato. When we go up onto the roof of the school sometimes to get away from everyone, she'll lay her head in my lap and whistle sweet tunes while we read manga. My singing voice always sounds like a dying cat, but when it's paired with hers…well, she sings louder than I do, so it works out okay. The sweet tunes of Mariya Takeuchi finished just as we exited the bridge.

Downtown was bustling with activity, swirling with crowds of people at the intersections ready to go drinking at bars and dance the night away. Already the street hustlers and performance artists were in the thick of it, huge crowds throwing money and dancing with them. Long lines wrapped around the theaters and nightclubs and the fanciest restaurants that keep Tokyo's blood pumping. I glanced over at Natsuki, staring up at the buildings as we drove past the big boxy hotels with all-glass fronts. After hard-stopping the car to avoid a jaywalker (who saluted me for my great driving skills), I started angling for a parking spot along the curb.

I hadn't been downtown since I went to get the supplies for Natsuki's cupcakes all those months ago, and even longer since I had actually worn a suit for something that wasn't a funeral. This would be our first 'real' date, and not just hanging out at school or at my house or whatever. On the outside I was trying to play it cool, but inside I was a nervous wreck. I must've done up my hair twenty different times trying to get it to look "just right" before I left to pick her up. But what did I have to worry about, anyway? My car was full of gas, my wallet was full of cash, and I had the entire evening planned out down to the minute. Dinner date at the tower, then a nice stroll through the koi ponds, and finally close out the night with a movie at my place.

Simple enough.

"Are we late?" Natsuki asked, digging into her purse for lipstick. She popped open her makeup mirror and started to adjust it, but honestly I thought she looked fine.

"Ahhh…" I glanced at my watch. "No, right on time."

I veered the car into a meter lane and put it in park. Natsuki, satisfied with her work, snapped her makeup mirror shut. We stepped out. "What movie were you thinking of tonight?"

I clicked the car key and it locked with a cheerful beep-beep! "Mmm, I was thinking…Ghibli?"

Natsuki thought for a moment. "Castle in the Sky."

"Nope." I started putting coins into the meter.

"...Nausicaä."

"Nuh uh."

"Ummm...Princess Mononoke?"

We idled at the major crosswalk to the tower. Across the street, a gigantic costume mascot dressed as Hatsune Miku wobbled around and posed for photos with a group of middle schoolers, while Sand Planet played through a scratchy speaker. Behind Miku, her gruff looking, Yakuza-type 'handler' was swiping the parent's credit cards for the photo fee.

I took a stick of gum from my breast pocket and popped it in my mouth. "Give up?"

Natsuki's hands entwined with mine. She nuzzled her head into my shoulder. "You got me, baby."

"From Up on Poppy Hill."

Natsuki's eyes lit up. "Ooooh, an excellent choice, sir!" She walked ahead of me and turned around, leaning in on her tippy toes. "A man of…" she leaned up and booped me on the nose with her finger. "...exquisite taste tonight!" She grinned.

I couldn't help but blush. "Oh shush, this food is what's gonna be exquisite. And we both know Howl's Moving Castle is the best Ghibli movie anyway."

Natsuki scoffed, putting her hands on her hips in a mocking demeanor. "Yeah, riiight! How could you say that when Kiki's Delivery Service exists?"

The light turned green. We both started across the street to the plaza.

"You're kidding me! This is a joke, right?"

"Closed!? This is bullshit!"

"I've been waiting two months for this table!"

A small crowd had gathered at the long row of rotating doors leading into the lobby of Tokyo Tower. I glanced up at the slender, candy cane-red structure and back down again. The entire tower was cloaked in darkness, save for the aircraft warning lights going up the shaft. At the very top sat the bellhouse with the observatory and restaurant, cloaked in milky white lights. The doors were locked and roped off with a velvet divider, with several paper signs taped on the glass. A lone security guard was busy arguing with a surly looking salaryman and his pudgy wife, stomping his little feet and pointing angrily into the blank-faced officer who was reduced to only shrugging and gesturing back to the sign.

Natsuki and I walked up to the rotating doors. I leaned against the glass and stared into the lobby. Cloaked in darkness, I could see a group of blue-shirted maintenance workers loading equipment into an open elevator shaft, guided by flashlight. Natsuki traced her finger along the glass where the sign was posted. "Tokyo Tower is experiencing a power outage and has closed to the public for the night. We apologize for any inconvenience. Call our main office tomorrow morning to reschedule your reservations." She read aloud.

I stepped back from the glass and sighed. "Wow."

Natsuki leaned her head into my shoulder and clutched my hand, rubbing her fingers against my palm. "What are the odds?"

Behind me I could hear the argument with the salaryman and guard continue. The salaryman was now pointing to a fist of clumped yen notes in his hand and trying to get the guard to take it, as if bribery would've solved the catastrophic power failure right then and there. I glanced down at her.

"Soooo, what now?"

Natsuki paused for a moment, glancing around the sweeping plaza underneath the tower. Already the dedicated vendors posted outside had closed shop for the incident, and only street sweepers and scattered groups of tourists remained, unsure of what to do. All the local activity had shifted across the street to the street performers and rows of cafes lining the avenue. It was a full night now, and the weather had gotten a tinge colder. I could smell the wafting steam from the hot food stands, as the vendors handed out free samples to entice the passersby. The smell of buttery dangos and strawberry cakes swirled in my nose.

"Well, did you still want to go eat?" Natsuki said.

I felt my stomach growling. I had fended off hunger for half the day and was saving myself for the date. "Oh hell yeah."

"Well, let's just go walking until we find something…" she trailed off and looked down at her satin dress, the warm street lamps making the deep red color pop. "Probably something a little more dress appropriate."

We crossed the main road that ran parallel to the plaza. Underneath Tokyo Tower was a small but lovely garden area, complete with waterfalls, wood-carved benches and now wilting cherry blossom trees (cliche, I know). The street lamps hung low over the cobblestone pathways snaking into the gardens, and after the plaza along the street were a row of various restaurants and bars. It seemed like most of the would-be diners at the tower had the same idea, and lots of well-dressed couples and groups were beginning to cue up outside the eateries. Mostly older married pairs, but a couple of college-looking students mixed in. All dressed to impress.

We walked over to one of the shops, it's front entry done in a modern style with dark oak wood and exposed black steel. Through the wide windows I could see the dinner rush was on, and the front staff were furiously taking orders down for the new influx of customers coming from the tower. I walked over to the skinny, bespectacled man taking names outside and typing away into a tablet.

"Sumimasen. Tēburu no naga-sa wa dore kurai desu ka?"

The man glanced up and peered at me over his wire-frame glasses. He held up a peace sign. "Two hours minimum." He didn't stop typing.

I grimaced slightly but turned it into a smile. "Sōdesu ka. Arigatō."

We continued down the street, holding hands. The lines continued to wrap around the shops as the traffic roared by. Twinkling neon lights reflected in the puddles on the street, blues and reds and pinks. As we walked down the street, it was more of the same as the first shop, fairly fancy and long queue times. White steam wafted from an open grate on the corner as we approached a large intersection, where the traffic lanes became wide pedestrian plazas and the sidewalks got more packed. Here the alleys split two ways, with more restaurants to the left and what seemed like a row of souvenir shops to the right.

A bicyclist whizzed past the red light, drawing the angry honks of a cab. "Well, which way?" I asked.

Natsuki glanced around both ways and paused. "Hmmm…", she thoughtfully tapped her finger on her cheek. Then she shrugged. "I dunno."

I raised an eyebrow. "You dunno?"

She smirked. "Yeah, I dunno."

I looked down the right street. It had a Ahikabara vibe, and I could see the large twinking ad boards for the latest mangas and animes coming out next year; Love is War, Zombie Land and Godzilla caught my eye. The buildings were a lot more spaced apart from each other compared to the restaurant street, and it seemed like all the foot traffic was at a standstill, pretty hard to get through. The left street looked pretty narrow and had electrical wires criss-crossing over the walkways, but the traffic was flowing evenly in two directions. A police officer stood by the main entry and watched the people pass through, bored.

I looked up at the street signs. Tokyo Tower loomed in the background, an ominous presence hiding in the dark without it's usual cheery lights. It seemed like the food row was more locals-oriented than the glitzy, polished arcade and otaku retail alley. I tugged on her hand, "I say left." Natsuki pulled my arm close and squeezed lovingly.

"Lead the way, darling~".

The walkway tightened, the crowds grew louder. I could feel the heat of the open-grill flames of broiling the finest red meats fresh off the cutting board, the warmth licking my face even as we passed for a few seconds. There was a jubilant mood in the air with all kinds of dizzying smells swirling at the same time; the spices and oils bubbling in the pans, the fresh smell of meat against the knife, the blackening smoke wafting of the grills…it was entrancing, and it only angered the biting emptiness in my stomach. Hopefully it's not too long of a wait here.

An elderly vendor with a tight black bandana and greasy apron stuck out two sweet potato wedges on toothpicks at us. "Ahh, young sir and ma'am! Care for a taste?"

Natsuki eagerly grabbed the sample and plopped it into her mouth. She held a hand to her check, savoring it. "Scchoo guuudKazuma, try shhome!" she said through a full mouth. I opened my mouth and felt the hot piece of potato sit on my tongue and roll to the side.

"Oh man." I coughed, biting down on it. "It's hot."

"But it's good, right!" Natsuki eagerly took another sample and happily ate it. She looked at the vendor, pleased at her reaction. "Do you have any tables?"

He spread his arms out sheepishly. "Sorry, ma'am. We're not taking any more names for the night, I'm just getting rid of the unsold stuff." The flavors were swishing in my mouth, the green onions mixed with the juice of the potato. Very good, but this isn't helping my hunger much…

"Aww, well thank you." Natsuki said, and pulled me forward into the crowd. The walkway widened, allowing for a few tables and chairs for passersby to sit and eat at, but they were already occupied. The street banked to the right, and it seemed to get even more packed with these little hole-in-the-wall eateries.

I sighed, chewing on my gum. "Hopefully we'll find something."

We must've walked a good twenty minutes down the strip before we found a place with no wait. Ibuki's Den, as the sloppily-painted wood sign above the door read, looked five years past a refurbishment. String lights hung low over the ceiling, and the actual restaurant must've been about twenty feet wide by fifty feet long. There was a small round table near the window looking outside and a long row of strained-leather booths all the way to the back. On the left was the bar area (not tonight, and drinkings' twenty times more fun with Yuri anyway), with a scratched to hell oak wood top and an impressive rack of various liquor bottles behind it. A constant plume of steam hung above us like a fog, and the smell of cooking food was good but had a burnt edge to it. This place was, well…we were definitely the youngest people there. Everyone else looked gruff, sour-faced and like they had a bone to pick with somebody in the bar. Even the waitress who sat us down gave us an odd look, a "What are y'all doing here?" vibe.

But hey, no wait. And I'm starving.

Natsuki and I sat down at a booth furthest to the back, between an elderly couple praying before their meal and a family of five, the parents sitting across from their three squealing kids and trying to get them to finish their dishes. Our waitress, an older lady with jet black hair tied up in a bun and bags under her eyes, sat us down with the menu. The no-nonsense type, working the late shifts and ready to get home already.

"Anything to drink?" she said, clicking her pen.

Natsuki glanced at the menu and back up. "Um, I'll have a barley tea with ice."

"I'll have green tea with lemon, please."

"Be right out." the waitress turned on her heel and into the kitchen. At the door, a second couple that looked our age came in, took one look around and right back out.

I drummed my fingers on the table. "Well, it's not Tokyo Tower…"

Natsuki laughed. "Blech, we could be sitting in a drainage ditch right now but as long as the food is good, it's whatever."

I smiled, and looked around our booth. Against the table was an extremely vintage mini jukebox, the plastic casing graffitied with keymarks of hearts and vulgarity. The walls behind the booth went to the ceiling, so there was at least a semblance of privacy. From the kitchen, a huge burst of flames rose up from the grill and was quieted just as quickly by the chef, busy working three pans at once. In the background, I could hear the speakers softy play a cover of Sukiyaki, one of the most popular singles ever released in Japan. Natsuki hummed the melody to herself as she traced her fingers around holes in the table.

"What do you think we're gonna do now? Now that the Festival's done and all." I said.

"Hmm, I'm not sure. Not like we got any new members out of it."

"Even after all that work Monika put into her song…"

"I know, right? It was so sweet, too. I wonder who she wrote it for." Natsuki said, adjusting her hair clip up.

It definitely sounded like a love song that night. I mean, with lyrics like 'Everyday, I imagine a future where I can be with you' and 'If I don't know how to love you, I'll leave you be', what else could it be? It was a little on the cheesy side, but damn if it didn't bring the house down and probably got a few boys' hearts fluttering at the idea of Monika being their waifu. Monika said afterward she loved to write songs in her off time, and songwriting always reminded her of the Polish ballads her father would sing her to sleep with as a kid. I figured we would get at least a few new members from that, but nope.

"Monika probably has a billion secret admirers at Yamaku."

"The question is," Natsuki put her elbows on the table and entwined her fingers together, setting her chin on top of her hands. She gave me a sneaky look. "Does she have one?"

We both laughed. It was a pose Monika often did when listening to one of us read out loud, or as Sayori called it, 'Monni's thinking face'. She showed us a photo from a yearbook once that had that exact pose, in one of her national debate meetings from years ago. It was almost like her trademark, a confident but alluring pose while you were hypnotized by those emerald eyes of hers. I'd hate to be on the receiving end of that stare.

The waitress came back with our drinks. "You guys ready to order?"

I set the menu aside. "Toyama sounds good for me." A favorite of labor men, its ramen noodles soaked in soy sauce with black peppers and usually a hunk of chicken for the meat. My father's favorite when he was a kid, and as Mom would always make it for him it ended up being one of my favorite, too. The saltiness gives it a real kick. Natsuki looked up and down the menu, her brow furrowing. "Ummm...uhhh…"

"I'd suggest the Tokushima, the pork belly came in fresh just this morning." the waitress offered.

Natsuki looked at me. "Hun?"

I nodded. "Sounds great."

The waitress scribbled our orders. "It'll be a few minutes." She sauntered off again.

Natsuki took a careful sip of her tea. "So, I was thinking…"

"Maybe this summer we could go on a trip or something. Out camping or hiking or whatever, in the countryside. It could be with the girls or just us."

I ripped open a sugar packet and sprinkled it in, stirring it with a straw. "I'd love that. Did you have a place in mind?"

She thought for a moment. "...Okinawa?"

"Mmm, we could stay in Ishigaki. My mom has family there, we could probably get a free tour of the area."

"I haven't been to Okinawa in so long, not since I was a kid. It was where my mom and dad met."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah." She took another sip. "He was a soldier with the US Army, thirty-something years ago. He was apart of the engineer corps, land surveying and junk. He was out in Okinawa on vacation when he went to a bar and got blackout drunk, I mean just out of it. It was my mom walking home from night school who found him, passed out in a ditch."

"Wow."

"Mhmm. So she picks him up, takes him home and got him all washed up while he's still out of it. She checked his wallet, found his address and stuck him in a cab back to the base. When he woke up, her number was stuck to his jacket."

"He woke up the next morning, stunned and trying to figure out how he got back to his room when the last thing he remembered was eating the mud as he fell off the street. He read her note, called her up…"

"And the rest," she gestures down to herself. "Is history."

"Wow, that's so…"

"Romantic?" Natsuki smiled.

The waitress came back with a steel tray, and two hot bowls of ramen. I was stunned; I was expecting some mediocre watery mess, but the ramen looked impeccable. A plump hunk of chicken swirled in the black soy sauce of my dish, and Natsuki's had the pork bellies lined up evenly against the rim of the bowl.

"Oh wow!" Natsuki clapped her hands together, and dug into her purse for her phone. "Lemme get a photo reeeal quiiick…"

I took a deep sniff; the peppers hit my nose like a shotgun. "Wow, it looks amazing." I looked up at the waitress. "Arigatō, okusama."

The waitress bowed, bemused. "Tanoshinde kudasai." She took the tray back and left.

I grabbed the chopsticks and started to swirl the noodles in the sauce, picking them up and watching the sauce drip. I stopped myself before I took a bite.

"Sorry, sorry." I set the utensils down and put my hands together. Natsuki did the same.

"Itadakimaaaa…"

Without even thinking twice, I quickly did the Naruto fire-style jutsu signs and pointed at her.

"...su!"

Natsuki burst out laughing, a genuine sweet chortle. She put a hand in front of her face to hide her wide grin, showing off her fangs. I couldn't help but smile. She's so pretty when she laughs.

After a few moments she found her breath. "You're so dumb, you know that?"

Her phone buzzed loudly.

For a moment, Natsuki didn't react to it. She opened her chopsticks and broke them apart to use. Her phone slowly bzz-bzzed once, twice, three times across the table, rattling against the wood as it vibrated. I took a sip of my tea and looked down at the table.

"...aren't you gonna get that?"

Natsuki glanced down at her phone like she didn't notice it. "Oh! Right, yeah."

Gingerly she picked it up and flipped the screen over, her face glowing in the LED reflection. Her smile dipped as she tapped it open. She scrolled through...something.

I took a small bite of my ramen and chewed slowly, feeling the salt roll across my tongue.

"I, um…"

I looked up.

"I have to go."

I blinked. "Have to go?"

She tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. She neatly set her phone back down. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I j-it's my, it's my dad. He said he wants me home already. It's too dark, and he j-just doesn't want me in the rain tonight. He didn't even know I went out."

It wasn't supposed to rain.

She dug into her purse and pulled out a crumpled 50 yen note and set it on the table. "Here, it's for my share."

I put two fingers on the note and slid it back. "You don't have to, hun."

She was smiling, but the edges of her lips were curling down, like a wincing pain was driving into her soul. "No, I feel bad. I'm just leaving and I can't stiff you with the bill."

I felt my fingers play with the straw of my drink, twirling it around. "Well...if you insist."

She stalled. The air grew icy around me. Her fingers gripped the straps of her purse, running up and down the leather edge. "Kazuma, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"No no, what? What are you apologizing for?"

Her breathing was sharp, holding herself back. "Tonight was starting so good, and now this-it just, I ruined-"

"Hey hey, no. It's okay." I leaned over and grabbed her hand, holding it gently. "You're okay. It's okay. Just get home. I can drive y-"

"No no! Gosh, no! He can't see you."

"But I–"

"I'm sorry hun, he's just not…he's kind of rough around boys. I honestly don't know how he'd react to us being together. I've never been with anyone to bring home like…he just…"

She straightened up and took a breath. "I'll get a cab. He can't see you just yet. I need to break it to him before any of that happens, but it'll be soon."

She leaned forward and kissed me softly. "Okay, hun?"

I paused, feeling the taste of her balm. "Okay, hun. I love you."

She got up and gave me a hug. "I love you too…" She dug a hand into the back of my hair, leaned into my ear and whispered. "...senpai."

My face immediately went red. Natsuki giggled and tapped me on the nose. "I'll call you when I'm home, okay?"

"Okay, be safe."

She grabbed her phone and started to leave.

"Natsuki."

She turned and looked at me. I felt a tightness in my throat.

"I..If there's ever something bugging you, I hope you can tell me about it."

She nodded slightly. "I would, babe. Don't worry."

And just like that, the evening was over. Natsuki turned to the door and all I could do was watch her leave. Everything I was planning on saying, wanting to say, just fell apart in my hands with all the solidity of a sand castle against the tides. For a second I just sat in a daze, not sure how to react. The steam from the ramen bowls wafted in my face. I took a sip of my tea and it tasted like bile, tart battery acid. How could this night have gone so sour so quickly? From across the bar, the waitress glanced up at me and walked over. She gave me a sympathetic, 'there there' kinda look and walked over.

"Where's your date?"

My mouth was full of glue. "She um...she-she um…"

She frowned and patted me good-naturedly on the shoulder. "Aww," she clicks her tongue. "Cheer up, babyface. The first breakup is always the hardest. Now, will that be cash or card tonight?"

ACT THREE

THUNDERSTORMS

Chapter 18: Just Monika

Chapter Text

A sleepy sunrise glowed over the little ward of Katsushika City, as the dew clinging to the canopy from last night's showers glinted in the yolk orange sun. Fog rolled across the quaint Naka River, masking the buildings that lay across the water. It was barely six in the morning, too early even for the songbirds. Only the whistle of the wind against the trees could be heard.

It was these kinds of mornings Monika Sehlke could never get enough of. It was the only time of the day she ever felt like she was back home in Torun, Poland. For a brief and fleeting moment the concrete alien jungles of Tokyo vanished and only the natural skyline of the Earth remained. Oh, how she missed the creek beds and forests and hillsides of the country and going exploring for hours, entranced by the beauty of the land. Playing war games with sticks and cardboard shields with her kolegas in the once-raging battlefields from decades past, under the shadows of long-abandoned scrap tanks and spent artillery shells. Fueled by the brave stories from her grandfather, once a proud member of the Polish Resistance against the Nazis through the war. The smell of Mama's gingerbread baking in the great woodfire ovens, a rich cinnamon scent that soaked deep into her clothes. It made her wonder how anyone would willingly give up an oasis like that for such a cold, unfeeling place like Tokyo where glass monstrosities twisted and leered above you and everyone was a stranger in this sterile, relentless city of the future.

From her balcony overlooking the river, Monika sipped her coffee.

It took her quite a few years to get over the family move to Japan, coming up on a decade ago. She grimaced at how she would stick her tongue out at her parents behind their back and snub them at the dinner table by not talking, only replying in yes or no terms. She didn't like the complexities of the Japanese language, which seemed to have at least a billion alternate names for just one word. She didn't have a single friend she could relate to, and all of the foreign students attended classes in Tokyo anyway. She felt so awkward at times, being the only European in a class of Asians. How some of the parents would sneak sneering looks at her when it came to get picked up from school. Her family's first apartment was so stuffy and bleak, and the parks that were scattered across the ward paled in comparison to the endless lush fields of Torun. There were many nights little Monika just sobbed to herself in her room, hugging her blankets and trying to grasp why her life would change so radically so quickly. But as her parents tried over and over to explain, there was no choice; Papa's job required it, and what Papa says goes.

As time grew on, she got the hang of things. She was confident in her Japanese but couldn't help but cringe when hearing it played back to her, it always sounded too high pitched. She did all kinds of reading on the history of the island nation, the great emperors that once ruled with iron fists to the transformation from war-ravaged land to a global cyberpunk superpower. She visited the temples, the shrines, the ruins and tried her best to adopt local customs where she knew of them (it took quite a while to get used to leaving her shoes at the door). Papa getting promoted twice in that time meant a bigger salary that moved them into an actual house, one he refurbished to have a more native motif. An academic by heart, she found herself at the libraries for hours on end trying to become better adjusted to life in Japan, from war accounts to ancient texts to droning biographies. It was there she got a nickname with the elderly librarians; Missy Honnomushi, lady bookworm.

Now, with graduation next year and university on the horizon, Monika felt somewhat at peace with her assimilation in Japan. She had no trouble ordering in the language with Sayori or whoever, she knew at least twenty different local recipes and regularly read up on national and local government news to keep in the know. She grew to deeply respect Japan and her people, a people who saw their civilization wiped out and their culture stripped just as her own nation had been during the Second World War. Monika spoke with many elders from that time and admired their stories of resilience, and 'till the day she died she would always be grateful for meeting someone like Sayori Asoka, a native, who taught her so much about dialect and pronunciations Monika never even knew about from her books. Sayori was really the first person to ever actually make her feel welcome and make her feel like a citizen.

But Poland would always be home to her. She was due to fly back this summer to visit her thirty-something member family and eagerly counted down the days to her trip. How she couldn't wait to take a swim in the lakes and touch the bricks and wood of her home and fall back in love again with the countryside. Her mind wandered back to a phrase of endearment back home, found in the first line of her nation's anthem; Jeszcze Polska nie zginęła. Poland is not yet lost.

Finishing her coffee, Monika stepped back into her bedroom. It was elegant but fairly simple; beige yellow paint, watercolors of castles and gardens and villages along the walls and a sizable canopy bed against the corner, with velvet red drapes and matching sheets. Against the wall was a long, cherry oak dresser with about a dozen lotions, brushes and perfumes sitting on top of school papers. A six-shelf cabinet filled with books, photos and plenty of awards from competitions and conventions past. A cute metal corner desk in the corner where Monika agonized over her computer programming assignments (she barely used computers as a kid, what the hell did she know about deleting files and writing lines of code?). Against the dresser was her long-neglected viola case, a gift from her mother that was more or less a push to get her into yet another extracurricular. As if the debate club, politics club, international relations club, orchestra, college algebra and now the literature club weren't enough for her picture-perfect resume. Ribbon-style Christmas lights wrapped around the ceiling, and a large flat-screen TV hung across from her bed. A silk split-curtain hung over the bathroom door.

She stepped into the bathroom and started to undress. She took a moment to look at her figure in the wide-glass mirror, sharpened from years of outdoor activity. Being this voluptuous came with it's negatives; she absolutely could not fucking stand the stares she always got in public from every other boy and man alike, especially those mouth-breathing greasy-haired salarymen on the trains that literally ogled her before she stared them down into humiliation. For all of its technological strengths and economic progress, Monika was astonished Japan was so ass-backwards about sexual misconduct; how even prominent women in business and industry were reluctant to report serious incidents, and how the police were nefarious for scorning the victim despite overwhelming evidence, literally making up anything to side with the sinful. In a town where everyone knew each other and didn't even lock their doors at night, the street justice solution to an assailant in Torun was to get all the townsmen together and beat them until they couldn't walk; it's kind of hard to be a creep when your legs have been snapped like pencils.

Monika angled her hips to the right, checking out her curves. She ran her hand along her waist down to her leg, sliding against her smooth skin. Damn near flawless, with some nice muscle tone from her usual cardio.

'I hate these damn stretch marks.'

Hot jets of water streamed down her body, the shower panes quickly fogging up with steam. She rubbed the bridge of her nose and started to think of everything on her to-do list today; Make breakfast for Mama and Papa, send off emails to some colleges about admission offers, draft up an outline for future Literature Club projects, workout, clean house, do a little bit of studying, make her itinerary for next week…it made her head spin. She stood and let the heavy streams of water pelt her head, drowning out her worries.

After a lengthy rinse, Monika stepped out and dried off. She grabbed a robe off the rack and got dressed. She stared at her own tired self in the mirror, flecked dirt out of her eyes and sighed.

"Get to it."

In the kitchen, Monika had a billion things going on at once. A pan was busy cooking eggs, a pot was busy boiling potatoes, and sausages were busy frying on the skillet. A kettle was busy boiling tea, the first whistles of steam searing through. She propped open the window looking out to the garden, letting the hot air billow through. It was now full morning, and from her perch Monika could hear the eastern warblers beginning their morning chorus. The kitchen was done in traditional European tones, heavy on wood and cloth furnishings with lots of racks and cabinets with spices, foodstuffs and bottles for cooking (and drinking). Behind her was a wall piling with framed photos, photos of parents and grandparents and babies and grandbabies of the huge Sehlke family back home. Monika was in every other picture, the crowning jewel of her family. It was her grandfather who jokingly said at their going-away party before they moved to Japan, "Don't let no boys near her till she's in office, Alek. She'll have too many headaches as is when she's Prime Minister over there."

From the hallway came a burly figure, nearly six foot three with arms like tree trunks, curly red hair and burly eyebrows. A hard jawline, with an unshaved face and weary eyes. Not the kind of person you'd want to share a bus seat with, let alone meet in a dark alley after the pub.

Monika smiled and kissed Papa on the cheek. "Dzień dobry, tato. Głodny?"

Papa chuckled and patted his stomach. "Czy naprawdę musisz zapytać?"

Aleksander Sehkle was the Japanese liaison officer for Euronations International, a brokerage firm that deals with investors and high-stakes trading all over the world. Alek was one of the leading brokers for the European branch through the 90s, but his previous overseas help with expanding firm software and training employees for the impending Y2K made him an ideal fit to help manage the Tokyo firm, which was preparing to expand trading into other Asian countries. He was initially wary of the career move (he felt like a giant among ants when riding the subway), but it was his wife and primary school friend Zofia who convinced him it was a smart choice. The only sale he didn't win easily was his little sunflower and only daughter, Monika.

Monika scooped the still-steaming kielbasa skillet onto plates and set them on the round dinner table. Papa took a deep sniff of the food and sighed. "It looks amazing, dear. Thank you." Monika rolled her eyes as she poured hot tea. "Oh hush, Papa. You'd say that about anything I cook."

Papa grabbed a hot sauce bottle on the table and started to shake it. "True, but I'd hate seeing you cry so early in the morning."

She playfully slapped her dad on the shoulder. With a hearty serving of hot sauce applied, he took a fork and started to eat.

From the staircase stepped her mother, Zofia Sehlke. A slim-figured, short and polite lady with streaks of gray in her brunette hair tied in a ponytail. Her pink nightgown hung baggy over her body, tied with a robe. Zofia was a teenage rebel growing up, a Warsaw native but moved with her family to Torun to take care of a dying grandmother. Life in the countryside humbled her, and it took three tries by the smooth-talking farmboy Alek to convince her into a date she never regretted. Zofia had an 'insistent' parenting style compared to the 'live and let grow' approach by Alek; she was the one who signed up Monika for all those clubs at her first year of Yamaku, and she was the one driving her standards for high marks. Alek had tried to get her to see differently, to just let Monika's natural smarts lead her destiny, but Zofia…

"Dzień dooobry, Mamo." Monika chirped from behind, stirring in more potatoes to the pot.

Mama smiled, rubbing her eyes. "Morning, baby." She took a seat at the table adjacent to her husband and took a sip from her tea glass. "Did you sleep well?", she asked Monika.

She nodded. "Those showers were pretty rough last night."

"Oh, I know. Least the vegetables outside got some love."

Serving her own plate, Monika joined her parents. Zofia swallowed a bite and pointed her fork at her husband. "Don't forget, you have to meet with Roscoe today about the water heater." Alek nodded, stuffing his mouth.

She turned to Monika. "And you need to call back that Edinburgh counselor about your essay topics."

Monika looked dejected, stirred her eggs around. "I know, Ma."

"He's been emailing me since Friday about it, have you been returning his calls?"

A lace of annoyance rung Monika's voice. "Not really, no. I've been caught up with Literature Club stuff."

"I've been telling you since-"

"Zofia." Alek broke in, still chewing. He waved his hand in a stop motion. "She'll get to it."

A stiff silence. Monika sipped her tea.

"It's just, it's important."

Monika rolled her eyes. "I know it is, Ma. That's why I'm doing it."

Another stiff pause.

Alek tried to change gears. "How is the club? How's Sayori been? She hasn't been around in a while."

Monika rubbed her wrist. "She's been fine. She was hesitant at first, but I think her meds are really helping her through things."

Zofia got up to go to the fridge. "Gosh, that's good. She deserves some peace of mind. And to think that boy saved her like that, ugh." Zofia did the sign of the cross quickly, while she was holding a bottle of ketchup. "Heaven forbid she–"

Monika's voice broke like ice. "Mom. I know."

Alek smiled politely. "Well, if you see her, tell her we said hello. You should bring her over sometime."

Monika nodded and stood up. "I should get to work already." She grabbed her bowl and went upstairs. "Love you guys."

Zofia leaned into the fridge. "Love you, hun. Remember, Edinburgh!"

Back in her bedroom, Monika sat down at her desk and turned on her computer. State-of-the-art, a dual screen workhorse built with help from Kazuma and loaded with game recommendations from Sayori. The LED edges gently glowed in rainbow colors, softly against the black furnish of the desk. Technology was both fascinating and annoying to her. Monika remembered the first time her family went into the Tokyo metro to visit Papa's offices, and almost broke her neck trying to stare up at the skyscrapers. They seemed like great big castles sent here by aliens, full of so much mystery back. Her view of them soured when she realized how much suffering could go on inside. The constant work crunch, the exhaustion, the isolation from your family just to satisfy the work loads. It made her uneasy; progress to be sure, but at the expense of what? Happiness? Your soul?

Monika glanced down.

Next to her computer was an antique photo frame. Inside was perhaps her favorite photo of the Literature Club, from that night on the rooftop drinking when the fireworks went off. Pouring shots, playing card games and singing together...the night ended with a selfie, Kazuma in the center with Yuri and herself on the left and Natsuki and Sayori on the right. Sloshed out of their minds, she wondered how they were able to take such a still photo (or how they managed to escape Yamaku after sleeping off the booze on the roof without anybody noticing, but that's a story for another time).

Her finger rubbed against Kazuma and Natsuki's faces, grinning like they won the lottery.

Honestly, she couldn't be happier for those two. They were such a perfect fit; they had a chemistry that was so electric, just bouncing off of each other. Monika thought of all the trashy boyfriends her friends back home had, chased by the cops and dealing dope. Ugh, God…But those two were just the sweetest couple she'd ever met. Natsuki kept Kazuma sharp and on his toes while Kazuma always found a way to break through her tough-girl front, either with a dumb joke or showering her with neck kisses. They were head-over-heels but never obnoxious about it, not in the clubroom at least. And, even though he was painfully dense sometimes, Kazuma was such a romantic; always holding her hand, making them lunches to share, carrying her bag between classes where they crossed paths. Natsuki gushed to her in the bathroom one time while they were doing their makeup about how he got her a deluxe collector set of her favorite manga (the Parakeet Girls?) for Christmas, and how they spent the whole night talking to each other in one of their little video games.

"You must really like him, huh?" Monika cooed, applying her eyeliner.

"He's just so, he's just, he-" Natsuki took a deep breath, closed her eyes and sighed dreamily. She put a hand to her cheek. "He's amazing."

Monika looked over at the cotton candy girl and laughed. "Sounds like someone's in loooove~".

Natsuki snapped open your eyes and glared at her president. "H-hey! Shut up! And so what?" She pointed an accusatory finger. "Let me have my crush, damn you!"

Monika shrugged. "Whatever you say…" she popped her lipstick open. "Cupcaaake~"

Natsuki pursed her lips.

She took a bite from her kielbasa bowl.

Monika couldn't be prouder of her. It's pretty easy to get a boyfriend at Yamaku, but it's pretty hard to get one that treats you like a princess among all the meatheads and redflags and losers. Unless Yuri ever caught on to her crush, she'd never date anyone here personally. Over time in the club and bonding over poems, she looked at Natsuki as like the baby sister she never had, and grew to be protective and defensive over her. While she admits she had some reservations about Kazuma early on, he's proven himself ten times over that he's a good guy and is like the missing puzzle piece for her. Monika loved to push Natsuki's buttons and get her into a fiery tailspin, just for the way her face gets all scrunchy and her ears start burning when she gets mad was just so…cute. The Natsuki of today was so different, so much more expressive and a lot more sociable than how she first got to know her, all those years ago.

It was the night of their first club meeting.

The moon's overcast shone down on the Yamaku student parking lot, a long winding asphalt strip against the gym building in the back of the campus. By this time most of the students had gone home, and only scattered teachers and janitors remained. Monika nodded to a janitor holding the door for her as she stepped out, in casual wear after working out in the weights room.

Monika was exuberant, and not just from the exercise; finally, new members! Well, it was just the one member, but humble beginnings always started somewhere! The meeting only lasted an hour, but Natsuki turned out to be quite the expert on manga and comics. Monika was a bit in the dark about it, but it was Sayori's topic to begin with. Monika just sat back for the most part while Sayori and Natsuki 'debated' different genres, themes and plot points. Sayori was more privy to sci-fi like Akira and Evangelion, while Natsuki ruled the world of slice-of-life and romance. By the end of it, both had found a title either would like to read.

As she got into the car, her mind was racing with ideas. What topics to cover now? Natsuki seemed like a sure bet to come back next week, and you could only go up from here.

She threw her gym bag into the backseat and got in. From Yamaku, only a twenty minute drive across the river and back home. As she pulled onto the access road and went past the bus stops, her mind was thinking back to European literature. That might be a fun one, maybe something more horror based? Old texts about vampires and mythos that once ruled medieval fairytales, and try to explain those legends with modern sciences. As she drove past the stops, a flash of pink caught her eye.

Monika frowned. That kind of looked like…

She put her car in gear and reversed back to the stop. The girl glanced up from her book at the noise of the car. Monika rolled down her passenger window.

"...Natsuki?"

The pink-haired girl looked embarrassed. She closed her book and set it on her lap. "Oh, um…hey Monika."

"What are you still doing out here? Did you miss your bus?"

"Oh, yeah haha." she laughed sheepishly. "I was studying in the library a-after the club meet and I just, um…" she threw her hands up. "Lost track of time."

Monika glanced at her radio clock. 8:12pm.

"Well, if you'd like, I can give you a ride home."

Natsuki's eyes flickered. "R-really?"

Monika pushed the unlock button. "It'd be pretty shitty if I didn't, club member number three.", she said with an earnest smile. Natsuki seemed to hesitate before she grabbed her bag and stepped off the bus bench. "Only if you're offering."

"Of course!" Monika leaned over and pushed the door open. "What are friends for?"

The car rolled to a stop on the street. Monika looked up at her house, done in pink tones and a picture-perfect lawn. On the patio, there was a man sitting in a rocking chair.

She couldn't explain it, but there was some kind of…energy, radiating from that patio. Like a cold breeze had blown through and sent a shiver up Monika's spine. The man barely reacted to the car pulling up, but seemed to tense up when it parked at the walk-up to the house. The man shifted in his chair and glared daggers at the car. He was burly, kind of like Papa, but Caucasian and more American-looking. A sour grapes expression, dressed in a black t-shirt, a fleece jacket and dark jeans. Messy gray hair combed back and to the side, with a bushy mustache.

Was that her dad?

"Thanks for the ride, Monika."

"Yeah, yeah, of course. I'll see you…tomorrow?"

Natsuki nodded, gripping her bookbag. She grabbed the handle to leave but paused. "What, um, what days are the club meets again?"

"Every Wednesday for now, if we ever get new members we might have more but for now just the one day."

Natsuki nodded. "And that's, uh, the same time as today?"

"Mhmm. In the seniors wing."

"Right, right…"

A pause.

"Alright, well, goodnight Monika. Thanks for the ride."

Monika waved. "Have a good night."

Natsuki exited the car. The man got up, went back inside the house and shut the door.

Her computer chimed. She set the picture frame back down. It was from Edinburgh, the admissions office.

She sighed. It never ends, does it?

Turning back to her keyboard, Monika started to type.

Chapter 19: The Night Natsuki Stood Still

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: This chapter contains scenes of domestic violence, harsh language and parental abuse. This chapter will be told through Natsuki's perspective, picking up about an hour after The T(s)un Rises ended.

kodaka17: hey, are you making it home okay?

I'm so pathetic.

kodaka17: we can go out another day, whatever works for you hun

Why won't you fucking let me be happy? How much juggling do I have to do for you before you're satisfied, God?

kodaka17: i love you, nats. Be safe sweetie

W͉͚͒͗HY̢͊ ̧͙͆͋AR̠̲͂̚E̖̚ ̟̋Y̛̖̙͞O͔̥͐͆Ú͈̙̀ ̮̻̒͒Ṱ̱̎͒A̩͈͗̐K͓͗̕͟Ỉ̜̿ͅNG ̬͘M̹̀È̖ ̠͉̌͝B̳͡A͕̚CK͓͔͝͠ ̧͎̐͠H͓̱̎̔È͎R̨͊E?̮̚

Do you know how long I've been waiting for this night? Huh? How long my stupid makeup took today? Why are you punishing me? What did I do wrong?

The cab shifted gears, and approached the freeway. The same bridge we crossed not even an hour ago, now whizzing past me.

I'm such a joke. The rain? Your dad doesn't want you in the rain? What are you, nine years old? That wasn't even a good excuse. Kazuma looked so ashamed of me, oh my God. Trying to dine and dash on another date again, Natsuki? You're so fucking weak, it's not even funny.

I stare out the window, fingers gripping my purse. The sun had vanished and now only the swirl of low-hanging clouds remained. Already the streetlamps were turning on, glowing against the damp roads. What's Kazuma doing right now? God, I hope he's already at home. I can't text him back yet, I have to get through whatever hell awaits me here. He's probably gonna break up with me tonight, and who wouldn't? What kind of girlfriend am I? He spent all that money on the reservation, on dinner, and I just ditched him. You didn't even take a bite, and it smelled so good. He should break up with me. Natsuki, the pale skinned weirdo who dyes her hair and can't even please–

"Ma'am?"

I blink, and glance up.

We're already here.

The cab driver looks at me through the rear-view mirror. "Is this your destination?"

I look down at my lap and up again. "Oh, um…y-yes. Thank you." I pull the handle and step out.

"Have a safe night." the cab driver replies, turning on his windshield wipers. I gently close the door and step onto the sidewalk.

Please don't leave me. Please don't leave. Please don't leave me with him. Can I tell you? Would you listen? I watch the cab pull back out to the street, and slowly please don't leave me with him please please please I don't want to be with him.

The light's off on the patio. My shoes squeak against the damp wood. I've seen this patio so many times and yet I can't ever grow to like it. It's my purgatory. The splintering wood frames, the rusted metal furniture he had imported from the United States, the dust clinging to the windows. How many hours did I spend out here as a kid, reading books until it got too cold to bear?

Shakily, I push the key into the slot. I can feel the grease of the bronze rubbing my fingers, it's so slimy like him. Every pin popping rattles up my arm. I don't want to do this. Please God don't make me do this.

I take a breath. The door opens.

The only light is coming from the living room, I can hear the TV droning. I take a ginger step forward, trying desperately to not make noise. There's a stench of burnt plastic, the air stale with humidity. The AC probably went out again, not like he cares. He always rants about it anyway, how he can handle the heat from growing up in Texas and whatever. Good for you, good for fucking you. How much he misses living there, how the food here tastes like shit and all of his friends moved back home already. Why do you tell me this? To mock me? You're never gonna take me to see your family there anyway. I know why you do. You regret me. Natsuki, Daddy's little burden until she turns 18. Then you're gonna throw me out and move back home like you slurred at me one night.

I hear a stomp.

"Where the fuck have you been?" IT snarls.

I freeze. Ice stabs through my stomach, my arms, my chest.

IT gets out of his lazy chair and lurches to attention. IT reeks like beer and ammonia, sweat pouring off his face.

"I went out with friends, Dad. We saw a movie."

IT comes closer. I shuffle back.

"Nobodyffffucking gave you permission..." IT growls, almost tripping on himself. "To leave."

I try to pivot. "Did you get the groceri–"

IT glares at me and strikes my face with the back of his hand. I gasp and fall to the ground.

"Lying ass bitch, you were out getting fucked again. Dressed like a fucking skank–"

"I DON'T FUCKING DO THAT! STOP SAYING THAT!" I scream, trying to crawl away on the gross linoleum floor.

His face curls into wicked disgust. "The fuck up already, you stupid bitch. That's all̶̝̔ ̸͈͒y̸͙̑o̶͓͐u̸̳̍'̵̧͐ṟ̷̆e̶̛̤ ̷͊ͅf̵̖͂ú̶̥ĉ̶̰k̷̟͊i̶̬̓n̸̹͗g good for."

I taste blood on my mouth. "You wish, you piece of shit. You hate the fucking fact I'm not one of your whores."

IT reaches to his waist and fumbles with his belt. With one hand, it grabs the belt by the buckle and it slides off his pants. He bunches it into a loop and lunges at me

H̵E̶ ̶S̵T̸A̴R̸T̵S H̶̙̕Ĭ̶̲ T̷̫̓Ţ̴̇Ḯ̶̯N̸̰̊G̵̳͛ ̸̤̔M̵̺̾Ë̵̢́ ̴̰̐G̴̪͝O̸̹͆D̸͍̈ ̴̞̔P̵̱͆L̸̥̊Ḛ̵̀À̴͎Ș̸̀Ḙ̷̿ ̵͈͠D̸͊͜Ạ̷̏D̸̛̬Ḓ̸̕Ỳ̵̭ ̶̳̎S̷̎ͅT̵̟̍Ò̴̭P̶̬̊ ̷͗ͅH̸͎͋Į̴͌ T̷͓͝T̴̛̳Í̵̺NG ME

Ḱ̴̦͚͚̗̗̦̞Ā̸̮͚͕̖̟̣̈̌̔̆Z̷̠̣͉̼̥̤͎̥̈́͋͆̋U̶̧̱̹̙̜̾͌M̴̥̏̎Å̶̛͍̖̼̪̍̒̑̌̅̿̎̓̉ ̵̲͓̭̪̰͙͙͍̠̂́̓̍͜ͅ P̸͈̜̪̞̈́̏͒̅̆̎͐̈́̉L̸͉͙̙̻̦̥͓̹̤̒͛̎ͅË̷̛͖͒͊̆́͌̏̇̐͝Á̴̖̱̠͖̟̙́͒̏̈́͗̌͐̀͊͘S̴̬̠̽̾͂̽̉͛̂̀͗͝͠Ę̶̨͇̖̖͙͉̖̪͂ ̵͕̫̰̦̯̞͓̗̫͎͒̎́͝P̷̢̨̨̢̺̟̘̳̤̩̎̅̈́̂͠L̸̟̻͖͈̿̂̋̊͛̽̿̈́̒͘͝Ę̶̭̳̫́̏͌̿Ả̶̜͙͕̜̻̜̙̐́̿S̶̨͕̟̀̂E̶͕̱̳̒̉͊͐͂̓̊̓̕͝

I̶̦̔L̷̰̓L̶̦̚ ̷͖͠B̶̰͑E̴͌͜ ̸̹͗G̶̙̐O̷͇̎Ȯ̵̲D̸͓̈́ ̴̺̌f̶ o̷r̸ ̵y̴o̷u̵ D̸̯̿̾Å̷̗̬̙̝̹̀̆̆͠D̷͔̦̩͈̲̎̉̾̈́Ḑ̷̞̰̳̮͖͋͋́͋̕Y̷͕̓͜ͅ ̵̘̊͐̀̈̚͠ P̶̺͓̙̭͚̽̽̚L̴͕̻̐̿̂̎̎̏Ȩ̸̛͕͇̻̐̀̓̆̊͝ͅA̴̛͚͕͊̒S̶̡̮̪͛̈́̄Ẽ̴̤̠̳̿́̏ͅ ̴̨̡͙̹̻͖̆͌̿̅̽̍Ṣ̶̛̎̍T̴̝̿̎Ö̴̼̏P̵̮͖͒͒̚ ̶̻̰͈̘̊͌͗̍̆͘H̶̛͖̳̠̥̔̌̀͗Í̴̡̠͉͑̄̊͑̕͝T̴̨͔̀͋͌T̴̻͉̗̯̦̊͐̋̓̀̕ͅİ̷̢̮̱̮͛̓̈́̋̚̕N̸̡̩͈̱͠Ǵ̶̘̒̑̽̓ ̷̛̟͓̮̈́͊̎Ḿ̵̛͖̜͙̝͙̭̫̃̀̂́̐E̴̢̨̞̞̝͎̅

W̶̥̬̯̳̫͂͘͜H̵̫͍̭̪̏̾̄̀Á̵̡̟̜̗̯͉̝̳̦̤͆T̷̨̠͍̣͔͙͓̙̈́́͛̄̚ͅ ̴͉͉͔̍̽͋́̓͋͝Ḑ̷̤̳͙̙͌̑͘̕Ì̷̺͙͕́͛͐͛͌ͅD̸̢͖͍̘̹̬͙̻̗̟͙̉̓͠ ̴̡̟̺̱̦̬̹̔̅͐̈̊͑Ì̷̪̦̱̏̽͆̚ͅ ̴̳̪̪̝̫͚̝̣͂͂͑͋̈̅͘D̸̻͗͋̐͐̃́͠O̵̫̣̔͒̈̅̈́̈̚ ̷̛͈̰̈̀̋W̶̨̨̳̖̠͎̮̹̩̞̏͑̑͜R̵̳͉͔͍͉̰̖̮̟̭͊̊͑̌̇͠ͅO̴̩͐̈́̔̌̏N̸͖̯̤̪̄͜͠Ģ̶̘̮͎͓̘͉͙̙̓̌͌̒͊̽̎̑͆͠ ̴̼̝̗͔̺̥͕̅̆̅̽̑͛̚͠I̴͙̝͌̈́́ ̴̙͠L̵̨̰̬̼͕̘̠̈́̑͝O̴̟͉͖͖̪̹̯̖͖̮͛̈̈́͋̃͝͝V̷̢̰̙̞͔͖̫̗̜̳̘̆̂̌͘Ĕ̴̗̺̬̹̮̑͗̓̽̃̀ ̸̢̛͛̄́̈́̅͝͝Y̷̤͙͉̯̳̲̭͍̙̦͛̈́́͛͋͌̋̓͌̇͝Ơ̷̡̲̼̲͈͖͍̥̐̆͗̕̚U̴̧͎̥̟̲̔̄̈̏͝ ̷͚̜͚̺̥͈̏͌̒̒̈̿̎̈́͛̏͘Ī̶̡̡̢͓̪̻͈̪̺ ̷̤͖̻͍͓̜̌̍̽W̶̧̨̯͖̬̘̬̯̬͕̍̓͆͂͛͆͘͘ͅA̷̝̬̭͉͆̐̔̆̈́̑̈́͋̅̐͝Ǹ̸̹͔͇̖̳͙͋͛̂͋̓͝͝Ţ̵̧͖̲̝̖̮͕̰̣͆̍̈́́͜͝ ̵̻̞͈͘M̶͉̐̈͌̋̄̊̓Õ̸̬̠̳͙̙̳͍̝͖̃̂M̶̗͇̯̗͍̲̤̠̑

My voice is screaming, I can feel it, but no sound is coming out. My throat is being sliced in every single place at once. I can't breathe, I can't breathe.

The hitting finally stops. I can hear IT struggling to catch his breath, towering over my limp body. My back is screaming in pain, my skin burning red hot from the welts under my dress. My breath chokes under its own weight.

"Go make me some fucking food. I bought your shit already." IT growls, before lurching back to the living room. It slumps back in his chair, and I hear the spark of a lighter.

I wobble to my feet, wiping my hair out of my eyes. My vision is blurred from the tears, and I squint hard to clear them. My legs feel like toothpicks, and I grab the wall for support. He turns the TV up louder, tuned to a black-and-white western. Drowning me out.

I stumble to the kitchen and open the freezer. I dig for an ice tray and shakily grab a handful of cubes, then rip a paper towel off the rack. I wince as the ice hits my raw skin, but the pain for a brief hot flash goes away and evens out. Hopefully there's some ointment left upstairs, but I don't know what to do about the bruising.

I look at the table. The absolute fucking basics he got me; noodles, a package of meatballs, boxes of ramen and pasta, a jar of sauce and cans of vegetables. I open the fridge and it's mostly bare, save for the jugs of milk, juice and six packs of cheap beer. A baby roach scurries by, hiding in the nooks of the shelves.

A six-count tray of cupcakes sits ripped open, only one left.

I glance back to the living room and back again at the cupcake. I slowly remove it from the tin and take a bite. The orange-cream icing is tangy, but doesn't have enough butter. It's too heavy on sugar and too chunky, they should've whisked it longer.

I could make better.

I quickly fixed dinner. Simple, spaghetti with the meatballs and a generous serving of sauce. I sprinkle a dash of salt on and serve it onto a plate. I grab a glass, pour soda and grab the food to take into the living room where IT usually eats. I can't recall the last time we actually sat down and ate food in the same space together. Not since middle school, when he took his turn.

I glance down. He's passed out, legs sprawled out in his chair. A speckle of foam dots the corner of his mouth. His table is a disgusting mess, stained glass with cigarette butts, a foul-smelling pipe and empty beer cans. I push aside some of the cans and set the plate and drink down. His shirt is stained with grease, pants unzipped slightly. The bel̶t̵ ̶h̴e̴ ̷b̴e̷a̶t̸ ̶m̵e̷ ̴w̸i̸t̷h̵ ̶l̸a̸͍͠y̷̪͑s̶̘̙̅ ̷̪̭́͆ȍ̵͘͜ṇ̷̓ ̶̦̂ţ̵̃h̸͓̆̊ẻ̸̘͔͘ ̵̤̓́g̵͈̀̇r̶̖̋o̸̟̒̂ù̶͈̫n̷̡̘̈͌d̸̢̙̄.

I stare at my father. Unshaved, unkept, inhuman. Even in sleep, always scowling in a permanent state of anger. I hate how small you make me feel. Is this the same man that picked me up from school everyday as a kid, who sang me to sleep when I cried about Mom? The man who taught me recipes to cook when we had almost nothing, waiting for his pension to pay out? Where did he go? Where is my father?

How am I gonna tell him about Kazuma?

I glare down at the glass pipe, crusted in black burn marks.

You took him from me.

The welts on my back pulsate in pain. My hand reaches forward. I have to wake him up, otherwise he'll find an excuse to scream. He always does.

"Dad." I push him on the chest.

Nothing.

"Dad, your food is here."

A guttural sound. He squints and his eyes flash open.

I point down at his plate. "It's ready."

He glances down at the table. He leans forward, picks up the plate and stabs it with a fork, twirling the pasta around. "Thanks."

I purse my lips. "Do you need anything else?"

He says nothing.

"Okay, dad."

I walk out the living room and go upstairs.

mangaislitt: heyy baby

kodaka17: yes my love?

mangaislitt: I made it home, sorry, I was doing chores

kodaka17: its okay, as long as you made it home safe

I step into the bathroom, finally able to take off my dress. I turn in the mirror and inspect the now red welts, below my shoulder blades down to my waist. Several of them, each screaming in agony. I gingerly touch the welts and wince, hard. Tears flush to my eyes.

On the sink is a jar of cream ointment, almost empty. I pop it open and scoop it out with my index and middle fingers. Slowly, I rub the cream on.

mangaislitt: of course hun

kodaka17: are you gonna be in school tomorrow?

The cream rubs against the raw skin, working its magic. I stare at myself in the mirror, running my finger against the bags under my eyes.

mangaislitt: I should be, why?

kodaka17: lets go on the roof for lunch tomorrow. We can watch anime and make up for the date :)

My fists ball up, and I can feel my knuckles turn white from squeezing them so hard. I squint my eyes shut, and IT's face flashes in the darkness.

God damnit, god fucking damnit.

There's a pounding at the door. "What did you do with the cupcake in the kitchen?"

I bite my lip.

"I ate it."

A pause. I shut my phone off and bury my face in my hands, gritting my teeth hard.

"Yeah, what did I expect. God knows you need the extra weight."

Thudding. He's walking away.

I stare down at the chat.

mangaislitt: I'd love that

Author's Notes: I've always found it a struggle to write abuse scenes, especially when you are thinking of your own personal experiences as you write. I've thought about this chapter a lot and rewritten how I wanted her abuse to be portrayed, to the point it completely changed the outcome of the story I originally had in mind. Concepts ranged from Dadsuki being a sympathetic struggling father to someone on the cusp of mental collapse to being an outright demented monster that goes…even further with his abuse, something I couldn't bring myself to write. It's a constant struggle to try and write scenes that both portray abuse with the seriousness it must be treated with and also to write authentic situations that are both engaging to the reader and realistic, that don't turn her father into a mustache-twirling supervillain that just beats the shit out of her for no reason. This chapter is a bit on the short side, but that's mostly because I want to push forward to the more plot-heavy chapters with scenes involving Sayori and Yuri again, who have mostly been unheard from since the Festival admittedly. I also abide by the "less is more" approach, and writing a six or seven thousand word chapter of my favorite girl being hurt is not something I can stomach for long. There have been mods and works I've seen that perhaps do not give abuse scenarios its due diligence, almost stereotyping what would otherwise be a serious predicament for the sake of a dramatic ending. Realism is something I've always strived to do with respect to depression, suicide, mental trauma, etc (notably Sayori's struggle in the early chapters).

And that's fine. I don't see it as a problem nor am I critiquing anybody; fan works are a product of the creator's environment and everyone's vision is unique, it's just something I find interesting as I mentally compare my own works to other Natsuki-driven stories, Exit Music and Fruits of the Literature Club come to mind. It's not a competition, but rather a collaborative effort. The glitched text is both a representation of the characters anger and fear, while also trying to keep the standard DDLC style of glitching and breaking. As Love and Literature continues its third act, every chapter will essentially be Natsuki-focused and try it's best to adhere to real world Japanese laws and customs (while making it relatable to the reader), as the story becomes increasingly claustrophobic and Kazuma/Natsuki's relationship becomes the driving force of the story. The outline I have in mind is something I've never seen a DDLC work do before, and I hope to treat what's to come in a respectable fashion that those still reading will appreciate. Two additional acts are in the works, and a happy ending is coming for our favorite couple. It'll just take time.

Stay tuned.

Chapter 20: Mondays at Yamaku

Chapter Text

You have unlocked a new poem. Would you like to read it?

YES. NO.

YES . NO.

Eggshells by Kazuma Odaka

Crack, crack, drip
Pop, pop, pop
Sizzle, sizzle, stir

The yolks swirl in the pan
The world spins with the sun
The heart dances with the soul

A bouncing baby girl, a bright young woman, a frail old lady
Empires, dynasties, dominions
Life begins and ends with the egg

Crashing waves wipe a sandcastle
Between the setting and the rising of the sun
Eventually, when the night crests
And the dishes are done

All you're left with

Is the shell

Sayori comment:  And a nice breakfast!

With the ring of the bell, lunch period began for half of Yamaku High. Almost in sync the classroom doors slid open and hordes of students began to pile into the hallways in a unified march to the cafeteria, down the winding staircases through the koi pond plaza straight to the buffet lines. Heavy plumes of steam wafted up from the rooftop stove pipes, and inside the dining halls were rich with the smell of tangy spices. From the floor-to-ceiling windows hung colorful but slightly sun-bleached banners of musicians and scientists and politicians with a quote to match, meant to inspire passion and intuition among the students as they ate. A reminder of what you could possibly be if you set your mind to it, or so the guidance counselors say.

Mixing among the crowd was a swirl of black hair and a puff of cotton candy pink.

"So how did you do on the test?"

Natsuki sucked air through her teeth and pretended to wince.

"Bad?"

"Eeeeeh…"

I waved at a friend from my calculus class passing by. "Amazing?"

"Forty out of a hundred."

I grabbed a tray and slid it down to her. "Well, it could've been thirty out of a hundred."

Natsuki dug into her pocket, pulled out a stick of gum and popped it into her mouth. "Well, I could've been hit by a bus."

I rolled my eyes. "If only I were so lucky." Natsuki turned and glared at me, and I could only laugh in response. "Oh no no, I mean, uh, gosh Natsuki, that'd be terrible."

We stepped up to the food lines. It was a special lunch, a chicken cream stew rich with butter and stuffed with chunky vegetables. The lunch ladies carefully spooned it into bowls and set it before us. I grabbed utensils for us both and shifted down to the register. "And you? How was that history presentation of yours?" Natsuki said, adjusting her bag on her shoulder.

I grimaced. "Towards the end my voice cracked and Mr. Kido laughed at me."

Natsuki burst out laughing. "Noooo wayyy!" My face went red. "S-shut up." Natsuki puckered her face. "S-shuUUUUup!"

"I would've loved to see how you'd handle it." I said, taking a bread roll from the display. "Probably start crying and shit."

"I'm not a baby like you, sir."

Our turn to checkout. I pulled out my wallet and swiped my card, paying for the both of us. I tap in the pin. "You say that like you didn't cry at the end of Angel Beats." Natsuki leaned over and grabbed a muffin from the dessert spread. "Everyone cried at the end of Angel Beats."

I took our trays and walked to the main dining hall. Already the cafeteria was filling up, with people taking their lunch to sit at the packed tables in the koi pond plaza outside. It was a nice spring day, the air cool and rich with dew from the morning showers with a decent cloud cover to keep the humidity at bay. A light orchestra piece played from the speakers, heavy on the viola.

Natsuki beside me, we pushed through the crowds and stepped into the plaza.

Ever since Yuri showed us that bobby pin trick on the roof of the seniors wing, it had become our unofficial sneak-away spot during lunch. A place to eat lunch and study for tests and nap in the shade and do…other miscellaneous things. Since most of the seniors had the second lunch and would all be in class, the roaming staff members were more focused on the students in the cafeteria than anywhere else. Nobody ever gave us a second glance, since we passed towards the library first before 'sneaking' into the seniors wing to go upstairs. We never got asked twice where we were going.

A lofi jazz piece played from my phone. I was propped up against a slender oak tree planted in the foyer, the centerpiece to a seemingly neglected garden from semester's past. The roof wasn't the most romantic place in the world; dead leaves lined the perimeter and a neglected floor-cleaning machine sat against a utility shed, but it was private. Natsuki was sitting between my legs, her head resting against my chest. I kept one hand wrapped around her stomach and my other hand free, with my chin resting gently on her head. Next to us were the remains of lunch, two empty bowls with the trash wrappers sitting in a plastic bag. A box of cookies-and-cream Pocky sat open, half eaten by Nats.

She took one from the wrapper and handed a second to me. "Okay, so you have an airplane ticket and a voucher to stay anywhere in the world for a weekend. Where would you go?" She said, biting into the chocolate stick.

I pause. "...anywhere in Japan?"

"In the world."

I suck on the Pocky, the cookies and cream coating my tongue. "New York City."

Natsuki glances up. "New York?"

I shrug. "Why not? It's supposed to be the greatest city in the world."

"Yeeeah, but everybody says that about their homeplace. There's probably some boomer in Edogawa who says that about Edogawa."

"But there's eight million people in New York. I feel like they wouldn't say that for no reason."

"True."

A pause. The wind whistles through the trees.

"Wait, are you going with me?"

"I'm asking you where you'd wanna go, hun."

"Right, right. Well…"

I take a bite. "There's plenty of things to do in New York. There's Times Square, the history and art museums, the observatories. Could take a helicopter ride, explore the parks, try out the food spots…"

I pull her in by the waist and hug her. I sit my head on her shoulder. "Y'know, I'd be pretty lonely in New York without you." Natsuki rubs my chin, feeling the curve of my jaw. "Awww, baby…", she cooes. "I guess I'll tag alooong."

"After all, who's gonna hold all my shopping bags?" Her hand trails up my chin towards my ear. With her index finger and thumb, she pinches it.

"Owowowow!" I wince. "Okay okay, stopstopstop. Fine."

She giggles. "That's what I thought." I hugged her again, kissing her softly on the head. "Mmmm…where would you go?"

"Oh, pfft." She waves her hand. "I don't know."

"Come ooon…" I rub my hand against her stomach.

"Hmm…" she thinks about it. "Texas sounds pretty interesting."

I raise an eyebrow. "Texas?"

"Well, I have family there. On my father's side."

"Oh."

"I've never met any of them. That's where he's from, actually. A place called Fort Worth, it's a city up in the north of there."

"You were telling me about him a little bit last night. He was in the military?"

"Right, it was uh, the corps of engineers. Land surveying…and stuff." She pauses to take another Pocky out. "He was born in Texas, trained there and was assigned to work in Japan to help build new military bases. Actually up and moved here, the military paid for everything of course."

"Huh…Texas." I say to myself. "What do you think it's like over there?" She pauses. "Uhhh…cactuses…saloons…" she makes a gun motion with her fingers. "Cowboys, probably? I honestly have no idea. He hardly talks about life over there."

"Speaking of your dad, uh…" I pause, trying to find my words. Is now an appropriate time? "There's something I wanna ask you."

She looked up at me, her hair brushing on my chest. "Mhm?"

"I, um…hang on, sit up for a minute." Obediently she did, brushing herself off. She turned to face me. I leaned forward and took her hand.

"…you know that I love you."

She smiled sweetly. "And you know that I love you."

"And I can't be happier about us. Like, seriously." She nodded.

"But I was just wondering, uh…well, I'm pretty sure my parents know I have a girlfriend."

She perked up. "Really?"

"I mean, it's kind of obvious to them, I think. I'm out late every other night and come back smelling like strawberries, and then there was that time I had marks on my neck…"

Natsuki blushed. "Oh jeez, they saw that?"

I scratched the back of my neck. "Wellllll uhhhhh…yeah?"

She put a hand to her face to hide her redness. "Ohhh my gosh."

"It-it kinda just happened. It was my fault, sorta…" I lace my fingers together. "Wwwwell, it's kind of your fault a little bit too."

Natsuki narrowed her eyes and gave me a light shove. "Oh yeah, you're just a beacon of boyhood innocence, Mr. Odaka." She pointed at me. "As if you didn't give meee any marks."

My turn to blush. "That, that–okay. True."

"How did they see it?"

I take a breath. "Well, that night, I went downstairs to get something to drink, and I didn't have a shirt on. And my dad, for whatever reason, was sitting at the counter drinking coffee and reading a book."

"Uhuh…"

"So he looks at me and looks at me again, and I can tell he's squinting at me as I'm digging around in the fridge. I grab my drink and turn to leave when he says, uh, he says…"

I clear my throat and peer at Natsuki. "Everything okay, son?"

She giggled. "Great impression."

"Thank you. Anyway, I kind of just stammered and pretended I didn't hear him. So I said 'what?' and he pointed at my neck."

"Wh-what did you say?"

I shrugged sheepishly. "Um…I said I had hives."

Natsuki stared at me.

"Hives. You told your dad your hickies were hives."

"...yeah, hives." I cough. "Y'know, allergies."

She stared at me hard, her brow furrowing. I throw my hands up. "W-what the hell was I supposed to say? That I got jumped?" Natsuki thought about it for a moment and leaned forward, grabbing me by my shoulders. She pulled me close, to the point where our noses were just inches apart.

"Kazuma Odaka…"

She gives me a quick kiss.

"You are, and I'm saying this as a compliment, the absolute dumbest boy in Japan."

We collapse into each other, laughing. "You weren't there, okay! Hives was a pretty realistic out, I thought."

"Did he buy it?"

I grabbed my soda can and took a sip. "Fuck no."

Natsuki snorted. "Oh whaaat? He didn't buuuy it?"

"Well, he sort of just nodded and told me they have creams for that."

"Right right."

"But, um." I scratch the back of my neck. "My point is…when do you think we're gonna, like, meet each other's parents?"

She looked down at her hands, twiddling her fingers. "I, well…my dad is a little…" I set the soda down. "I know you said he doesn't like boys."

"Right. But, well, he did think I was out with a boy too, when I came home last night."

"Oh yeah? How'd that go?"

She smiles and spreads her hands out. "Oh I just, I just uh, deflected it. I said I was out with some girlfriends. I think he bought it."

"But maybe you're right. I think he knows something's up too."

"I've never actually brought anyone home before…" I say sheepishly, a little embarrassed. "Me either."

Pause.

"Just keep in mind he's a pretty traditional kinda guy. Don't get upset if he doesn't like you." I rolled my eyes. "You're crazy. How could he not like me?"

She gives me a light shove in the shoulder. "You're the crazy one, sirrr." I leaned forward and pulled Natsuki closer to me, wrapping my arms around her waist. Our noses touch together. "Oh, I'm crazy? Say it again." I nuzzled my face into her neck and started kissing her softly, moving her shirt to go to her shoulder. She gasped sharply.

"K-Kazum…mmmm, stop iiiit…" she protests playfully, putting a hand on my chest. Her fingers dig into my blazer.

I chuckle, still sucking on her neck. "Or else what?" My free hand slips up her skirt and starts rubbing her thigh. "Scared we might get c–"

From across the roof, the knob to the stairwell door jiggled. "Oh fuck." she whispered quickly.

Natsuki actually leaped away from me and pushed her skirt down, spinning on her butt to the same spot she was in earlier. I shake my head and comb my hair back with my hand. From the door stepped a heavyset man with fading silver hair, combed down and to the side. A slightly baggy black suit, with a blue dress shirt and a fat criss-cross pattern red tie.

It was Principal Terai, the same man who introduced the Literature Club at the Festival all those months ago.

He looks left, then right, then across at the tree and where we sat. He grinned. "Ahhh, Mr. Odakaaa! What a pleasant surprise!" Mr. Terai said, clapping his hands together. He starts walking towards us, his dress shoes clacking against the cobblestone. "Nice day for a picnic, huh?" Beside Mr. Terai was a thin-boned maintenance worker with a ponytail in brown coveralls, a ring of keys in one hand and a screwdriver in the other.

I comb a strand of hair behind my ear with my hand. "Oh uh, yeah, gorgeous. Just gorgeous out here. That's whyyy weeee chose it for a study spot!" Natsuki said nothing, just sorta looking down at her lap.

Mr. Terai rose up and down on the balls of his heels, looking around at the foyer. "Really?"

"Oh uhh, yeah, well, you know how noisy the cafeteria can be."

"What was wrong with the library?"

"That…" I laugh. "Hah, well, you got me." Natsuki puts a finger to her eye and rubs it, flecking out the dirt.

I'm in the unfortunate position of knowing the Principal on a somewhat personal level; he and my Dad were schoolmates, attending and graduating from Yamaku some two decades ago together. Even before I got to high school I recognized his face from Dad's late night poker games at the house with him and his old gang of school friends, hearing them laugh and drink from my room upstairs as a kid. He was always very nice to me, Dad's only kid; sometimes he'd bring a little handheld arcade game or deck of cards for me to have before they'd start their game, presumably to keep me occupied and not interrupt. At Yamaku I wave hello to him in the halls and we sometimes stop and have friendly banter, but I've never been under his ire before.

Until now.

I try to change the subject. "So, what brings you up here sir?"

"Well actually," he looks back at the floor-scrubbing machine, where the maintenance worker was crouching down to inspect it. "Me and my friend here were going to try and get that thing working again. Seeing you up here is a bit of a surprise."

Sound interested, it might get you both out of detention. "What's wrong with it?"

"Ahhh…" he trills his lips. "Something with the timing belt, just needs to be swapped out I hope. The cylinders also needed some changing out, I think it ran over a rock or two when we used it at the Festival. Shouldn't be an expensive fix." I nod, pretending to be engaged. Natsuki clears her throat and stands up. "Well, you sound like you got a lot on your plate, so we should prooobably get outta your hair and let you work."

Principal Terai looks Natsuki up and down, like he almost didn't notice her at first. "Good idea, missy." He looks back at me. "If I see you two up here again, I'll have to write you both up." I get up and dust myself off. "Y-yes sir. You won't." I grab the bag of trash and bowls and nod towards the door. He pats me on the shoulder and leans in. "Tell your dad I said hello, if you see him."

I nod. "You know it."

We exit. As we quickly head down the stairs to the ground floor, I hear Terai tell the maintenance worker to not let him forget to change the locks.

After the heat of embarrassment passed, we retreated to the library for the rest of lunch. We rifted through the manga section and found a table towards the back, finishing off the rest of the Pocky. Maybe fifteen minutes later the bell rang, signaling return to class. Outside the doors of the library I kissed Natsuki, her leaning up on her toes to meet me. My thumb rubbed against her earlobe.

"See you next period?"

"You know it."

We embraced and waved goodbye. I turned on my heel and headed down the corridor, my next class being towards the back of the campus. I stepped back into the building and walked past endless rows of blue lockers, pushing through the crowds. Mine was just towards the end before I entered my sociology class, and I left my backpack in there before lunch. I strolled over to my locker and started fiddling with the number lock.

"Kazuma!"

I look up. Sayori and her boyfriend are walking towards me.

"Hey, what's up?" I say, smiling. My locker pops open and I grab my bag, slinging it over my shoulder. Inside the door of my locker is a small mirror, a glued-down notepad with some scribbles and a taped Polaroid of me and Natsuki from the festival, posing with fried squid speared on sticks.

They had met at the festival; Yuri and Sayori had explored the festival together at some point and Yoshi Tadashi introduced himself as the vice president of the veterinary club that presented before the Literature Club did. He was thin but not all bones, a little taller than her with ashy blonde hair split neatly down the middle and black browline glasses. Quite the intellect (we're talking Monika league smarts), he was already getting offers from some of the Tokyo vet schools for full-ride scholarships based on his scores. From what Sayori had told me their relationship was a little slow going at first, but it was actually her who had made the first move towards that, giving him her number at the Festival as friends but it slowly grew into something a little more.

"Oh, we were just heading to geometry, just wanted to say hi. How was your date?"

"Ahhh, well…" I stammered, putting a hand through my hair. "Good. We explored Tokyo Tower for a bit, but Natsuki had to take a raincheck on it though. She had a family situation and had to leave early."

Sayori frowned. "Oh, that sucks. Is she alright? I haven't talked to her recently."

"Yeah yeah, she's fine. We had lunch on the roof and kinda made up for it, before Terai showed up and told us to leave."

"Oh shit." Yoshi chimed in. "Did y'all get written up?"

I shake my head. "Almost, but I talked my way out of it." He adjusted his glasses. "Nice. Caught him in a good mood, it sounds like."

"Well hey, maybe if we're all free sometime we could double date? I know a great ramen shop downtown." I say, still thinking about the taste of the soy sauce ramen I didn't get to finish with Nats (of course I took it home, it was like 15$ a bowl). Sayori grins. "Sure! We can figure something out, just text me."

"Of course."

The tardy bell rang. Yoshi grimaced. "Aw, jeez. Come on, Sayori." She beamed at me, entwining her hand with his. "See ya, 'zuma! Text me about the ramen shop!" I waved gingerly. "Yeah, see ya guys." I watched them leave for a moment, gripping my shoulder strap.

Half a year ago, Sayori was crying in my arms in tatters. A week later, I ripped her down from a noose and cried with her in the ambulance. I spent almost everyday with her in her recovery as long as I could. The fear and worry in those times made my hair fall out and nearly brought me to my own breakdown…but now here she was, bright and sweet and outgoing as ever with high grades, near-perfect attendance and now a caring boyfriend. She was already looking around at colleges and thinking about majors, with an interest in psychology.

I smiled.

'Things are finally coming into balance.'

Chapter 21: Don't Toy With Me, Miss Natsuki

Chapter Text

"Oookay, everyone!"

We all looked up.

"So, I think we need to talk."

Sayori sat at the desk to my left with Natsuki and Yuri to my right, filling up the front row. It was a beautiful spring day, not a cloud in the thick blue sky. It was warm but with a good constant breeze coming in through the windows facing the foyer. Class had just let out for the day, and the plaza was still abuzz with students waiting around for their friends or waiting on their ride home. Through the slightly open door I could see students and teachers passing by in the hallway, their voices muffled. The room was pleasant with the smell of black cherry burning sticks, a favorite of Yuri's when she was out of her usual jasmine oil. Our club president leaned back against the teachers desk she used as her own and sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and rubbing it slightly. She cleared her throat, about to go into another one of her famous impromptu speeches.

"Well," she started, spreading her hands out. "We tried our best, gang. While we did manage to raise close to a hundred thousand yen from the bake sale, I can't help but feel a little down about not getting any new members."

She continued, "It's unfortunate, really."

"A real tragedy." Natsuki muttered, folding her arms.

"Right, but I don't think we shouldn't fret too much." Monika slowly walked over to shut the door and back to her desk. "I talked with some of the other presidents and they were in the same boat as us; good money raised, but no new members. Actually, I overheard Terai saying this was one of the most successful festivals in Yamaku history, so that's something to be proud of."

She looked at me.

"I guess that means we're stuck with you, Kazuma."

Everyone chuckled. I rolled my eyes and waved my hand, smirking. "Sorry, guys."

"But hey!" Monika clapped her hands together. "That shouldn't get anyone's spirits down. We're not in danger of being shut down or anything, and there's still a few months left 'till the summer break and all the more time to write the closing chapter of the Literature Club's year, so to speak. And I really would like to see us go out with a bang, something special, something we can all be proud of." She paused. "And definitely something to get us in the yearbook."

Indifferent to the topic, Yuri took off her glasses and started adjusting the nose pads.

"With all that said, if anybody has any suggestions, now is the time to voice them. I'll open the floor to discussion."

There was a pause. Sayori slowly raised her hand.

Monika nodded and pointed with her thumb. "Vice President?"

"Who'd you write the song for?"

Monika stopped. "Wh-what?"

Sayori innocently tilted her head, but I knew it was a bit. "The song you sang: Your Reality. You never told us who it was for."

A trace of red brushed Monika's cheeks. She scratched her ear. "I uhhh…what makes you think it was for someone?"

Sayori rolled her fingers against her desk, where a wrapped chocolate chip muffin sat. "Oooh, yknowww." She fluttered her eyes and stretched her hand out. In her best voice she sang, "But in your reality, if I don't know how to love yooou~"

Natsuki and I broke into laughter, with Yuri smiling while cleaning one of the lenses. Monika's face flushed beet red now, not pleased at the joke at her expense. Sayori grinned, and tapped against the desk like a pianist on an imaginary keyboard.

"...I'll leave you be!"

Monika narrowed her eyes, annoyed. Taking the defensive, she dryly said, "What, you didn't like it or something?"

Sayori put her hands up defensively. "No no no, I liked it. It was juuust…" She tapped her index finger and thumbs together. "Come on, tell us. It's just us girls here."

I looked over at Sayori.

Natsuki chimed in, propping her arm up on her desk and putting her chin against her palm. "I bet it was that Henry Kühn boy from the debate club. Six foot one, chiseled jaw, a fellow European." She put a finger to her chin thoughtfully and tapped her lips. "Yeah, I could see that."

Monika took a breath and entwined her fingers together, counting them off. "First off, ew. Second, I didn't even like him when we were debate partners, let alone the idea of becoming romantic ones. Third, there is definitely a portion of my family that would be against him being German and not Polish, so that's already a nonstarter."

Monika straightened up and took a step forward. "And fourth…"

She paused mid-thought, looked down at her feet and shook her head. "Wait, what the hell? No…no, y'all are not getting any tea outta me!"

Natsuki and Sayori frowned. "Awww…"

"Focus on the club!" She gestures to the left. "Yuri, Kazuma, did you two have anything?"

We glance at each other from across the room. My mind is totally blank, and instinctively my thumbs twiddle together. "...N-not off the top of my head, no. Sorry."

Yuri gently combed a strand of her hair behind her ear and put her glasses back on. "What events are left for the year?"

Monika looked up at the ceiling. "Well, outside of some small-time fundraisers, not much. The main thing would be the Summer Festival before the break starts, but nobody's gonna be thinking about signing up for anything there. This might have to be some kind of standalone thing from Yamaku."

"Hmmm…" Sayori said, undoing the muffin wrap. "That certainly is a pickle."

"Looks like a muffin to me." I quirp.

Sayori sticks out a playful tongue at me before she takes a hearty bite, little crumbs dotting her lips. Yuri glances left, then right before gingerly raising her hand. Monika gestures to her.

"Well, what if we did a book drive?"

"A book drive…" Monika said thoughtfully.

She turned in her seat, to face Nats and Sayori. "Yeah; we could try and collect books, in addition to purchasing them ourselves with the funds we earned, and then donate them to one of the local schools, or perhaps a youth shelter or clinic."

Monika nodded, rubbing her cheek. "Huh."

"A good photo op, for sure." Sayori added. "There's that humanitarian angle to it."

Monika walked over to the chalkboard behind her and took a piece of chalk in her hands. She scribbled down IDEAS in big lettering, then wrote a number list. For the first line she wrote BOOK DRIVE.

She looked back at us, now in teacher mode. "What else?"

We were silent. I half-heartedly raised my hand up.

"Kazuma?"

"Uhhh, well if it's something for the community, maybe we could work with one of the local shops and make a donation? Or, uh, like volunteer work? Serving food or helping the elderly…" My voice hesitated. "Or something."

"I'm friends with the owner of the bookstore we met at, Kazuma." Yuri mused, glancing over at me. "I'm sure she'd be interested in working out some kind of partnership considering our history."

Monika wrote CHARITY on the second line. Sayori, having finished her muffin, neatly folded the wrapper up and set it on the corner of her desk. She raised her hand up, smiling. Monika inhaled through her nose and clicked her tongue, hesitant.

"...Vice President?"

"What about that Yasutora hunk from computer science? I heard he broke up with–"

I started laughing. "Sayoriiii…" I moaned.

"Wha, I'm just ASKING!"

For a second Monika said nothing, simply stared at her second-in-command. She turned her back to us, scribbled on the third line and stepped away to reveal the board.

DEMOTE SAYORI

"Ooooooh…" Natsuki and I said in unison.

Sayori looked stunned. She put her hands together and bowed her head. "In light of new testimony, I conclude my investigation."

"Come on guys, one more idea." Monika said with a lace of annoyance, wiping away what she wrote. She tapped her chalk piece against the board.

I rubbed my chin. "Something for the yearbook…" I said to myself.

"What if we teamed up with someone?" Natsuki added.

"Another club?"

"Sure…I mean, it depends on the who, but maybe we could field out and join forces. Since our numbers are…" she trailed off. "...so small."

"Who'd you have in mind?" Monika said, rolling the chalk piece against her fingers.

Natsuki shrugged. "The vet club? Culinary arts?"

Sayori added, "The film club had that really cool anime movie of theirs, maybe they need script writers or editors."

"I could check in with the library staff and see if they need assistance." Yuri said, glancing down at her fingernails.

Monika turned and scribbled COLLAB on the third line. Satisfied, she put the chalk down and brushed her hands of the dust. "Okay! Sooo that's a book drive, a charity event aaand some kinda club collab, thing. Definitely some good ideas to start, but I'd like to get a final concept down by the end of the week. Okay?"

We nodded in agreement.

"Cool." Monika glanced down at her smartwatch. "Well, we still have the hour to kill." She leaned behind the desk and pulled up her leather bookbag, setting it beside her. "If nobody has anything else, let's get back to the reading."

In keeping with school policy that clubs have to actually have some kind of daily assignment to be considered a legitimate organization, we had slowly but surely been popcorn-reading a book of choice and discussing the chapter afterward. There was a pretty lengthy debate about what to read, but all of us had eventually settled on the 1990 sci-fi thriller Jurassic Park. It was slow to start (admittedly a few times I had to ask Yuri what so and so words meant), but we were finally getting onto the island and into the dinosaur-filled action stuff. I preferred the movie, but this was much easier than poem-writing anyway.

I leaned over my desk to get my copy out of my bag, Sayori doing the same. I whispered to her, "You know, you're getting pretty bold teasing Monika like that."

Out loud she replied, "You're getting pretty bold with those hickies, 'zuma."

Monika, Natsuki and Yuri glanced up. I felt a heat rise up my cheeks, with all eyes on me. I was stunned she said it like that. "I uhh…" I searched for a reply before looking at Natsuki for help. She cocks an eyebrow and points to herself. "Don't look at me. Those are hives, remember?"

The room falls silent. A curious smile traces Sayori's face.

"...they're what?" Yuri asks.

"Oh, y'all didn't know?"

(Author's Note: Stop reading, put on Poem Panic in another tab and have it play for the rest of this section to get that authentic mod experience lol).

I bury my face in my hands. "Pleeease don't tell this story." I plead to no avail. Natsuki slaps her desk and breaks out laughing, leaning back in her chair. Sayori looks back at her, grinning. "Oh? He said they were hiiiives?"

Natsuki turns in her seat to face Sayori, looking past me. "Oh my God okay okay, so, this guy–" Nats points at me. "He's–"

"Noooo…" I groan, squirming in my seat.

"He flirts me up and down one night and gets me to leave those little mosquito bites on him–"

My face keeps burning. "Naaats…" Yuri and Monika turn in their spots, smiles growing on their faces, enthralled in this cautionary tale about confiding embarrassing personal stories to your significant other.

She continues, "Ohhh Naaats, mmmmph…" She bites her lip and clutches her chest, twisting slightly. "No, don't bite me theeere…"

Sayori claps her hands together. "Ahahaha! That's definitely him, all right."

I feel like jumping out the window. Hopefully the fall will snap my neck, assuming there's some bushes to soften the landing.

"Then his DAD sees it."

I put two fingers against both my temples and started rubbing them hard. "Oh my Gooood…" I moan, tugging on my eyelids.

Sayori leans in, enthralled. Natsuki continues and puts her hands on her hips. "-And he's all. He's all." She goes cross-eyed. "Uhhh, well those are just hives Daaad…"

Sayori bursts out laughing, looking at me with tears in her eyes, clutching her stomach. "Oh Kazuma, sweet Kazuma…"

"Look, in my defense–"

"Hhhhhhives?" Sayori chortles out, a mixture of giddy and bewilderment.

Yuri holds a hand to her lips, hiding a chuckle. "It is kind of a silly claim to make."

Monika digs into her bag, grinning. "H-hang on." She pulls out a small, cream-colored jar and pops the lid off. She takes a few steps forward to me and leans in on her toes. "Here." Gingerly, she scooped some of the cream onto her index finger and started to gently dab a smidge of it under my chin area where the hives–sorry, the hickies were.

"It'll hhhh..." she wheezes. "It'll help with the redness, Kazuma." I could only stare at Monika in a kind of stunned amused shock, feeling the cool cream under my chin. This only made Sayori start laughing harder, clutching to her desk to keep from falling off.

Natsuki Tamura, always the instigator, gave me a pouty face. "Awww, the poor baaa-by." she cooed.

Defeated, I could only glance around the room, scoff and fold my arms. I looked down at my desk, trying to hide my smile.

"You guys are assholes."

Author's Note: Hey guys! I took a break from writing to refine the outline ahead, again changing the story a bit. This chapter was supposed to be Yuri-focused and have a Natsuki/Yuri arc (of sorts) but it got too long and distracted from the main storyline. This is definitely a fluffy chapter, but I wanted to get a few more good moments mixed in with some lore that needs to be known before the nightmare really begins. It's also been a while since the whole club was together in one scene. Stay tuned and thank you all for reading!

Chapter 22: Walking on Eggshells

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: This chapter contains intense scenes of domestic violence and parental abuse. This chapter is told from the third person. This was extremely hard to write and it definitely isn't suited for everyone.

Under the pink-streaked sunset, the street lamps quietly glowed to life as the sun began to set over Shishibone, one of the many neighborhoods that built up the quaint ward of Edogawa. Shishibone, with a population of nearly two thousand, was decimated during the firebombing campaigns towards the climax of the Second World War that destroyed everything but the most reinforced concrete structures. Redevelopment began as soon as the peace treaties were signed, and in the seventy years since the end of combat Shishibone has become a bustling neighborhood complete with schools, libraries and urban parks.

In the late 1970s, the US construction firm Mesa Verde Developments sought private contracts in and around the Tokyo metropolitan to develop housing for retiring American GI's and their families, a combination of those who were veterans of the Pacific Front twenty years earlier and those who worked at the nearby military bases, Osaka or Kyoto or otherwise. Mesa Verde outlined several dilapidated areas in the far-off suburbs of Tokyo and, being flush with cash, easily gained ownership of the lots and began clearing land. Upon announcement of the developments, the citizens of Shishibone fiercely made their opposition known at council meetings and public protests, but at a time where the Japanese economy was in freefall and local governments were desperate for consistent revenue the complaints of the common citizen were ignored. Upon completion, the houses were balked at for their wasteful designs; massive lawns, exposed steel and bashful decorations, and for many years were seen as the white elephant herd of the ward. Compared to the traditional, more reserved designs of Japanese architecture; stone fountains, ponds and pleasant ambience, the brutalist townhomes felt like skyscrapers.

Over time, the developments gradually filled up with aging war veterans and soldiers looking to start families and lay down roots in Japan. For the Americans who lived in it, it was like home away from home; soldiers would receive imports of furniture and decorations and other homegoods they couldn't find in Japan, and everybody was everybody's friend in the neighborhood; many worked at the same bases or fought in related divisions, so the community was fairly close-knit. For the Japanese who lived around it, it was an obtrusive eyesore that detracted from the quaint flats and homes that have stood for decades. No Japanese nationals save for those who married into the military lived there, so ergo no Japanese had any real business being there. Effectively it became like a gated community with no gates, also considering that you had to be a member of the United States Armed Forces to lease a house there. Taking advantage of the thick wallet yanks, business-savvy locals took to opening shops and cafes nearby to cater to the American families by selling pop and country CDs, thick cooking spices and Little Debbie treats or plates of steaming hamburger and pulled pork sandwiches.

On the second floor of one of these castles, somewhere along Gaijin Boulevard, facing away from the street sat a girl with a head of cotton candy, alone in her bed. Natsuki Tamura's hair was let down, fresh from a quick shower and free of its usual ribbons. Her head propped up against a pillow, she sat in silence thumbing through a book. The sunset was dreamy, and Natsuki had propped open her window slightly to let the cool spring air blow through.

Natsuki's room was colorful, but there was a peculiar sense of detachment to it. Beige paint walls against hard oak shelves stocked with books and other things, trophies from elementary's past next to DVDs and other vintage media. Posters of Mount Fuji and the New York skyline were tacked on the wall, next to various drawings and self-made art. A line of Christmas lights rang around the ceiling, unplugged. Makeshift curtains from rose-colored comforters were nailed against the window frames. A scratched silver CRT television sat on the dresser, hooked up to a DVD player. There was a thin layer of dust on the bookshelves, and there were various nicks and holes in the drywall. The room was comfortable, plush even, but a little lacking in personal style for a high school anime-obsessed girl. It could've been a guest room, or belonged to anybody.

But hidden away from view, from the rest of the world and most importantly hidden from the hateful eyes o̶f̴ ̵h̸e̵r̷ ̵g̸̢̎o̷̱̿d̷̨̅d̴̖̿a̵̦̍m̶͖͂ņ̸̚ f̷̮̐ȁ̵̙t̸͎̊h̶̬͌e̶̠͊r̴͇͐, was a wooden lock box the size of a binder, tucked behind some dress heels and wrapped in bedding. It contained her entire world, all of Natsuki's most cherished memories of past and present. A yellowing photo of her toddler self cradled in her mom's arms. A broken opal necklace gifted by her grandmother after her first school play. Two dog-eared diaries, one filled from primary school and the other still in use. Their faces were starting to blur in her mind, but the happiness she felt was eternal. Sealed away in an envelope was close to 30 thousand yen (about two hundred USD), that she had slowly been saving up to one day get the fuck out of this hellhole, or who knows what.

And then there were her memories with Kazuma Odaka, the one man in the world that treated her with respect. A badge from a local anime convention, adorned with heart stickers. A photo booth strip with the last slide ending in a sneak kiss. A small blinking toy charm of a cat eating a cupcake that Kazuma won from a claw machine they passed by on a date. A pencil portrait of Kazuma she had sketched during an art class. Kazuma had made one of her as well which looked more like Moetron than Natsuki, much to her annoyance.

Thinking about Kazuma was perhaps her one true escape from the nightmare she lived in, the nightmare she had no choice but to hide from him. He was her only real reason, outside of the Literature Club, to keep fighting these days. What should she even say to him about Him? That her dad beats the fuck out of her every other night, when his dope runs out? Kazuma's words about wanting to introduce each other's parents sent a ripple of anxiety through her everyday, so much anxiety her hair fell out in clumps in the bath because she had absolutely no idea how she would break the news of a boyfriend to her father. Every single time she tried to think about it, her gag reflex activated and she had to shake away the thoughts of someone she loved so much and someone she hated so badly sharing the same room, trying to make niceties while she served the two dinners. How on Earth was that going to happen?

Next to the lock box was her favorite gift of all and her most cherished possession; a limited edition collector's set of The Parfait Girls manga, something Kazuma had to literally travel across Tokyo to track down just before Christmas. The Parfait Girls, recently picked up by Kadokawa for a one-season anime adaptation, was Natsuki's first ever manga and what kicked off her interest in anime. It was one of the signature characters, Mitsuki the sharp-tongued baking pro, that inspired a young Natsuki to dye her hair pink from its natural brunette color.

It was one of those volumes that Natsuki was reading now, thumbing through one of her favorite parts. On her phone her chat with Kazuma was open, sending memes and flirts back and forth. Kazuma was just getting ready for dinner with his parents, and Natsuki was getting into a particularly good part of the volume; it was the scene where Mitsuki had just asked out her crush to the school festival (a tried and true trope), and Mitsuki was out with her friend–

There was a loud crashing downstairs. Glass shattering against the wood floors. Natsuki heard an agitated roar.

"What the FUCK." a man's voice hollered. More glass shattering, the sound of cabinets being flung open and slammed shut.

Natsuki winced and pursed her lips together. She felt her heartbeat kick up twice as fast.

'Please stay downstairs…please stay down there.' she thought to herself. She could feel the sweat lacing her palms already, the oh too familiar wobbling in her thin legs. Usually when he gets pissed off like this he stomps around and throws stuff all over the place, and makes her clean it up. Usually he's too fucking lazy to come up the stairs. What was he doing?

"WHERE IS IT."

Natsuki felt her fingers start to shake. The pit in her stomach dropped like a lead weight. Her vision got blurry and instinctively she grabbed her phone and started to type when she could hear the stomping grow louder. He was coming upstairs. She wasn't even sure what she was typing when she–

Oh my God, the manga–

The door flung open.

There Natsuki stood, frozen in time, still holding the manga. For a second he didn't react, still staggering to catch his breath. His eyes narrowed on the colorful book and his lips sneered back in hideous disgust.

"Oh, fuck no."

"Dad–"

"What the FUCK HAVE I SAI̶̗̓D̷͍͂ ̶͉͝a̴͉̾b̴͕́ō̷̮u̴̼̿t̶̝̄ ̶̰̎h̵̼͑â̵͕v̴͖̒ĩ̶̖n̷̬̑g̶͈͑ ̴̺́t̶͔͂h̶̹̉í̸̞š̵̭ ̸̹̽s̷͙͊h̶͎͗ḯ̴̞t̸͈̕?̶̤̊" He yanked the book out of her hands, glaring at the cover. There was a clinging smell of ammonia on him; he was high. His eyes were delirious, eyebrows scrunched in rage. There was no reconciling with him in this state.

Natsuki wailed. "DAD I WAS JUST BORROWI–"

His fists shook with anger, crumpling the pages. In one swift motion, he grabbed the manga on both ends and ripped it in half. He flung the ruined book at her, striking her in the face. Natsuki yelped in pain and fell back, the book hitting her in the nose.

"Just because you LOOK like a Jap d̵o̴e̸s̸n̴'̷t̸ ̴m̵e̶a̵n̶ ̸y̶o̵u̴ ̷f̵u̶c̶k̷i̷n̷g̸ ̷a̵c̶t̷ ̷l̵i̸k̶e̵ ̷o̷n̶e̸.̶"

It takes a lot to push someone as hard-willed like Natsuki truly over the edge, but that did it. All at once the emotions came flooding out of her in a vengeful tsunami. It felt like Natsuki's consciousness and common sense just shattered into a million tiny pieces in that fleeting moment, with the evil of her father trying to destroy the love of her soulmate. An act of good molested by a deed of degeneracy.

Tears flooding to her eyes, Natsuki screamed shrilly at the top of her lungs and swiped at her Dad, climbing over the bed. Her nails dug into her father's gruff unshaven face, slashing towards his eyes. Her fists tightened and she pounded once, twice on his chest before her father reared back and slapped her as hard as he possibly could with his backhand, his watch striking her in the jaw with a sharp meaty smack!

She felt her jaw shift as she dropped to the carpet floor, the friction burning her skin. The pain of a thousand needles dug into her mouth as she clutched her teeth. There was an immediate wave of regret. "IMSORRYIMSORRY–"

But he wasn't listening. He had his excuse. His belt undone, he bunched it up in his fist and started swinging.

"STUPID."

Slap.

"FUCKING."

Slap.

"BITCH."

Slap.

The pain rippled through her small body over and over again, the girl clutching herself in the fetal position, unable to shield from her fathers blows. She meekly struggled to crawl against the carpet, fingers digging into the fabric, screaming and crying as the belt struck her head, her arms, her butt. Through her bloodied, swelling eyes, she could just barely make out the image of her father one last time, towering over her, face pulled back and sneering at her like you would gum stuck to your shoe, raising his arm back one more time.

And then, blackness.

Nothing.

"Hahahaha!"

"No waaaay! Seriously?"

In another ward, in another house, in a whole other world, the Odaka family were just sitting down to dinner. The silk curtains looking out from the dining room towards the street were drawn open, letting the glow of the pink-streaked sunset in. A few candles were lit on the shelves behind the dining table, the smell of vanilla and pumpkin glowing in the room. A tall cabinet radio, an antique gift from a passed on grandmother, gently played orchestral music from a vinyl record. From the kitchen there was the smell of oil frying and dishes being taken out.

Ren Odaka, the head of the household, was leaning back in his chair, grinning. He was changed out from his usual business attire, opting for a simple navy blue button-up and slacks. He smiled as he poured himself a cup of tea from the steaming kettle.

"But it's true! We did know this one guy, he was our foreman at the construction site I worked at in college. He blew two whole paychecks on this shiny silver sports car, a Mazda or something. It was fresh off the lot. And he kept going on and on about the mileage and how good it was on gas and blah blah blah."

Across the table sat his college sweetheart and forever wife, Miki Odaka. Her glossy black hair was done up with a red clip, wearing a smooth brown-striped blouse with a puffy red long skirt. Miki paused and sipped from her own cup. "Reading right off the sales packet, sounds like."

"Right, and the guy just would not shut up about it. So me and Terai and a couple of the other guys decided to mess with him a little bit. Every time he came into work, he would park his car and walk around to get coffee from the lounge area before going to his office, y'know with his window view that looked down at the car." Ren took a gulp of his tea. "So in that gap we would get a hose and fill his tank up every so much, a gallon or two a day."

Miki was chuckling. "Oh boy."

"And the next day he was just going nuts! 'I told you guys!' He kept saying. 'I'm getting sixty miles to the gallon in this baby, ahhh! I never have to fill her up!' And being all smug about it."

"Sounds like you and your trophies, hun."

Ren scowled, but went back to smiling. "Sure. Anyhow, we kept this up for about a week and then slowly started to take the gas back out until it was zero…and then we started siphoning."

From the kitchen came their son, holding a serving tray. "Hate to interrupt…" Kazuma said, setting the tray in the middle of the table. It was a sizable pot of brown broth, with thick strips of cow beef and hunks of carrot brimming in the fatty oils. Flakes of paprika and nutmeg swirled around in the broth, still steaming from cooking on the stove.

"Oh wow." Ren said, surprised. He leaned forward a little bit to inspect the soup. Miki took a napkin and set it in her lap, eyeing the bowls curiously. "What is it?"

Kazuma started to ladle the swirling broth into the bowls. "It's called flaki. I wanted to try something different. It's uh, it's a Polish recipe. My friend Monika from the Literature Club suggested it."

Dad took a whiff of the steam brewing from the bowl. "Well, it smells amazing. Did you make the broth from scratch?"

Kazuma smiled. "Yes sir, and the beef is fresh from the market, too. "

Miki adjusted the utensils sitting before her. "It looks lovely, dear."

Having served the bowls, Kazuma sat down and set his own plate. He really went all out for this dinner. It took him quite a few hours looking for the kinds of oddly specific spices and materials Monika suggested for the dinner ("If you want it to taste good, you'll buy what I say.", she had texted him). There was a fresh loaf of bread, fried potatoes, even a small cranberry pie to split between the three. This dinner was in particular an important one, because this was the dinner Kazuma was (hoping) to mention that he and Natsuki were a thing. He felt it was somewhat appropriate, and Natsuki had seemed okay with the idea of it anyway. He couldn't think of a reason why he should be worried, but the dinner would definitely smooth things over if the conversation went awry.

Kazuma felt his phone buzz in his pocket. While his father was continuing his story of pranking his boss, he took a moment to check his notifications. It was a new text from Natsuki, and he quickly read it.

hEY I G

The boy frowned, refreshing the chat and rereading the text.

"Kazuma," his father said, holding up his utensil. "Can you bring me another spoon, please? This one's dirty."

The boy looked down at his phone again, and sent a question mark in reply. Putting his phone back in his pocket, he got up and walked into the kitchen.

Chapter 23: Kazuma.chr

Chapter Text

"Oh, I do enjoy this piece, Kazuma. Very much."

I looked back behind me and chuckled. "You're very kind, sir, but it's still not quite ready yet."

Mr. Nobusuke Tagomi, my elderly art teacher with thick reading glasses, graying hair combed over his scalp and warm but weary eyes, smiled as he approached my canvas. There were about twenty other students in his classroom, spread out in a half circle around the center blackboards at the front of the room. There were various posters of famous artisans, Picasso and Frida Kahlo and Banksy, adorning the walls mixed with student works of years past sitting on the wide-framed bookshelves. It's Friday, the second to last class of the day, and you could feel the loose energy in the air, students with their ties undone or blazers hanging off their seats. Everyone was ready to go home to what looked like a great weekend; sunny blue skies with drizzle in the morning and lots of breeze. The rectangular skinny windows that looked out towards the Yamaku parking lots were opened up, letting the cool spring air blow through past the drying racks. A small record-player, a wood-furnished antique, played soothing harpsichord music from his desk. It was serene, and the perfect mood for creativity.

Our assignment's topic was "Life in the Face of Death''. We had blank canvases, we had plenty of paint and brushes but the guidelines were open-ended. Mr. Tagomi was big on expression without restriction, creativity without limitations…or as he would say it, 'to allow your hands to stroke the brush and your soul to do the rest'. There were plenty of interpretations to the assignment; some students painted crypts and graveyards, others painted forests and crashing waves against a sandcastle. I opted for a more abstract design, based on the skeletal remains of the Genbaku Dome in Hiroshima. The former art exhibition hall was one of the only solid-built structures to survive the atomic bombing of the city in 1945, and has since become an international symbol of peace and resillience in the wake of such unspeakable destruction. My portrait was sketched like you were standing at the base of the dome looking up at the sky and towards the cityscape, swallowed in a sea of black-blood-orange nuclear overcast. The entire canvas was consumed by flames and destruction, but the gleaming, easily-recognizable silver frame of the building glowed through the infernos, a radiating beacon of light. It wasn't the most original idea in the world, but I was satisfied with how it looked. And I'm already passing this class, so.

Mr. Tagomi patted me on the shoulder. "I think it's perfect." He leaned forward and pointed, running his finger just above the edges of the dome. "You did well in coloring the outlines and keeping them clean, although perhaps more detailing could be done with the surroundings. The broken window frames, trails of smoke from the fire, et cetera."

So not perfect, then. "Thank you, sir. I will continue to improve on it."

He smiled and continued on, inspecting other students' works. The fan near my desk whirred in my direction, blowing my hair back slightly. I dabbed my brush into a glob of steely-blue paint and began to outline the edge of the waterfront, brushing it slightly.

As I painted, my mind wandered to Natsuki.

Dinner last night went…about as well as I could've hoped. I was pretty surprised with just how good everything tasted, the broth alone could've been a meal. Mom and Dad were in a particularly good mood, with Dad telling me this story about stealing gas out of his old boss's car and telling other old war stories of his. The conversation slowly turned to plans for tomorrow's special occasion, a small family gathering to celebrate my parents' wedding anniversary. It was going to be a private but lively get-together (Odaka parties are known to get wild once they start serving alcohol). It wasn't going to be a big big bash, but just my local family; grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins and other close friends of the family, having cake and drinks and dancing at an event venue my grandparents rented further in-town, more close to Yamaku. Mom and Dad have hosted plenty of parties before, but they have always been one to be sticklers for the details. They're always the ones organizing the family get-togethers and Christmas parties and birthdays and…ugh, they hate it when things go wrong, and they love it when things go absolutely perfect. Everything down to the nit must be picked. I had my tux waiting at the laundry, which I had almost forgotten I needed to pick up after school. Less than a two minute drive from Yamaku, anyway.

It was the sort of event Natsuki should be attending with me. If things went well at the dinner, the idea was to let them know we had been dating for quite some time and ask if I could invite her to the party. That would be the start of a new era for us, being public, me dressed to the nines and Nats glowing under the crystalline lights as we danced the night away.

"hEY I G"

But that text was from last night, and now it's nearly the end of the next day and I still haven't heard back from her.

I texted her this morning by sending her a meme and saying I hope she slept well. No reply. Just before lunch I texted her again asking if we were gonna eat lunch together; we usually meet up outside the library before we go into the cafeteria, but she never showed up. The entire time her profile has been offline, last active yesterday. I don't think we really go more than a couple of hours without hearing from each other, one way or another, and even then we know we're both on the same campus all day. As far as I knew she wasn't here, but I didn't make it a point to check on one of her classes (she knew mine, too).

I got from my chair and walked to the sink, rinsing the brushes clean.

Here I go worrying about nothing again. Although, am I really one to talk? I said the same thing about Sayori, oh so long ago, and she almost died as a result. Because of my action, rather, lack of action. Dismissing my concerns about her, assuming everything was fine when it really wasn't. And look where it got me, ripping down my best friend from a noose and bawling in the ambulance with her father. Look where it got her, the recovery and the hair falling out and the medication her parents were absolutely insistent she take everyday (but with the passage of time and their everyday constant paranoia cooling, they have been more lenient in letting Sayori decide for herself when she needs to take it). Frankly, I really don't know why I'm stressing about this. I have nothing to base my worry off of. She could've had a family emergency, or had something else going on. Her phone could be dead, or it could've broken last night. Maybe she was out getting a replacement. Or something.

I walked back to my spot and sat down.

But I know those bruises she got weren't from walking into a car–

"Yo. Kazuma."

Toji, one of my long-time friends, looked over at me. His face was splattered with specks of blue and gray paint, but miraculously his uniform was clean. He was more muscular and a little taller than me (not to say I'm in bad shape of course), with dirty brown-blondish hair, a sharp jawline and veiny hands from lifting weights. He was also the vice president of the anime club, a club he had been nudging to get me to join after the Festival and their horde of new members. His blazer hung over his chair and his tie was loose and flipped over his shoulder. His canvas was interesting, a majestic sprawling canyon of puffy white clouds against a rich blue sky. In the near center, was the sketch for an outline of a person, floating beyond it all. It was quite beautiful, but ever since our primary years I knew Toji to be a man of the finer arts, always drawing and reading about classical painters and coming up with his own tattoo designs and stuff in his sketchbook. Back in our primary years, he and Sayori loved to break into the watercolors and paint these huge messy drawings on giant spreads of paper before the teacher caught them. I, being the goody two-shoes, would help the teacher clean up.

"Hey." I nodded. "What's going on."

"What are you doing after this?"

"Biology with Miss Gojo. Once I'm out I was gonna go see a movie with Sayori. What's up?"

Mr. Tagomi walked past us for a moment, so we grew quiet. When he returned to his desk, we kept talking.

"Nah, just me and some of the guys were gonna hit the arcades after this. That new shop down by Yamasaki Road opened last week and we were gonna check it out, wanted to see if you were down."

"Sorry, I got plans."

"All good." There was a pause, as Toji continued to work on his canvas for a moment. By the sinks, somebody knocked over a container of dirty water which spilled across the linoleum. The student, a twin-tailed blonde haired girl on the shorter side, cursed silently to herself (but nobody really heard it) before scrambling for some paper towels. One of her friends got up to assist her. Mr. Tagomi barely glanced up, thumbing through his novel.

Toji scooched over a little closer to me. "Soooo, taking Sayori on a date, huh? How is she these days? Don't see her too much anymore."

I was perplexed by the tone he used. "What?"

"Sayori." He took a sip of his soda can. "Ain't y'all a thing now finally?"

"I'm not…" I trail off. "I'm not going out with Sayor–wait, what do you mean, finally?"

Toji tilts his head and gives me a bemused look. "Whaaat, don't act like you forgot."

"Forg–ohhh…"

Buried way way deeper down in my subconscious, one time in middle school when Toji had spent the night at my house and we stayed up playing games and reading magazines and talking about girls, we both admitted who we had a crush on in school. He told me he had a crush on our class rep…and I said I had a crush on Sayori. I mean…it was true. Back then, at least. Sayori was cute and sweet and lived right next door to me, it was only natural I guess. I didn't always have a crush on her before, but I guess I started getting butterflies around that time. Once we got into Yamaku we started to see each other less and less, as I now know she was suffering in silence and I failed her in that regard. The feelings died out because they never actually breathed, and I always valued Sayori more as a friend than a potential girlfriend. But of course, I'm in love with Natsuki now and Sayori has Yoshi. We'll always be there for each other, no matter what, but it would be nothing more than that. It's funny to reflect on all this now, I never even thought about any of this until Toji reminded me.

"Okay that…that was back then. And it was just a crush. It never went anywhere, and Sayori has a boyfriend now so it doesn't even matter anymore."

"Yeeeah, suuuure."

"It doesn't!" I took a thinner brush and dunked it in black paint, starting to work on the smoke trails. "I mean, maybe…I should've said something to her, back then. Maybe it would've gone somewhere like you and Hikari. But she has a boyfriend now, and she's really happy with him…so, by extension, I am happy for her."

The friend of the girl who spilled the water returned to help her, dumping the towels half-assedly on the growing puddle of water. Tapping them with her foot, she started to rub the towels against the floor, but they only started to tear apart and push the water even further across the floor. She needed a mop. Mr. Tagomi now took notice of this and started to walk over.

"You mean, she doesn't know? You never told her?"

"No, of course not."

"Think you ever will?"

Am I in a therapy session right now?

"I mean…I don't know why I would bring it up all of a sudden. It's ancient history, and I don't want her getting weird on me."

Toji shrugged. "If y'all are best friends, it shouldn't matter. She'll just find it cute and funny in that…", he twirled his brush at me. "Kazuma, sorta way."

He started to laugh to himself. "Well, you are pretty funny looking, so."

I glanced across the room Mr. Tagomi's back was to me, helping set up the mop for the girls. I leaned over and slugged Toji in the arm. Some of the students behind us looked up but said nothing. He winced, but he was still chuckling. "Owwwowww, okay. Okay." He rubbed the spot where I slugged him, holding his free hand up defensively. "That was justified."

He shifted in his chair, adjusting his tray of paint and the brushes next to it. "Anyway, what's your girl's name then? Somebody I know?"

"Her name's Natsuki. Pink hair, red clips, she's in the Literature Club. You know her?"

Toji paused, glancing up at the ceiling while he racked his brain.

"Nah, never heard of her."

You have unlocked a cry for help. Would you like to read it?

YES. NO.

YES. NO.

AGONY by Natsuki Tamura

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UMASAVEMEKAZUMASAVEMEKAZUMASAVEMEKAZUMASAVEMEKAZUMASAVEMEKAZUMASAVEMEKAZUMASAVEMEKAZUMASAVEMEKAZUMASAVEME

KAZUMA

SAVEMEKAZUMASAVEMEKAZUMASAVEMEKAZUMASAVEMEKAZUMASAVEMEKAZUMASAVEMEKAZUMASAVEMEKAZUMA

SAVEMEKAZUMASAVEMEKAZUMAILOVEYOUSAVEMEKAZUMAPLEASEHELPPLEASEHELPPLEASEHELPPLEASEHELPPLEASEHELPPLEASEHELP

PLEASEHELPPLEASEHELPPLEASEHELPPLEASEHELPPLEASEHELPPLEASEHELPPLEASEHELPIDONTWANTTO

die

Chapter 24: All's Write With The World

Chapter Text

The four-story library of Yamaku High School was modernist in design, with a glass exterior, stone ponds trickling outside and heavy on wood paneling, which gave it a rather airy college look compared to the more formal brick-and-mortar buildings around it. It sat across the koi pond plaza from the cafeteria wing, the tallest building in the campus and was actually the newest, a replacement of the outdated library several years prior. The first three floors were for the general library, with an endless maze of bookshelves, long study tables and a wide spiral staircase in the center of the hall reaching to the top floor. The fourth floor was a combination of a high-tech computer lab and archives center, with dusty scratched file cabinets chock full of memories and yearbooks from alma mater's past and even some local records of family trees and other archives in the Edogawa area. A double row of desktop computers ran against the wall, with some study tables scattered around.

Across the fourth floor sat a simple lounge area, with plush couches, some vending machines and smaller round tables scattered near the floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a gorgeous view of the whole campus. From here the Tokyo skyline was distant but recognizable, the monolith Skytree looming from miles and miles out on the horizon. Beyond the Yamaku campus was Edogawa proper, a sea of puffy green trees with the bare tops of homes and apartments visible as the district spread out, looping around the Edo River. The midday sun shined down through the windows, great beams of light reflecting against the tables and carpet in long shards.

Monika Sehlke and Sayori Asoka were sitting in one of the backtables, closest to the corner windows so they could stare out into the foyer. Their book bags hung over their chairs, with their journals and laptops set out in front of them. Monika was working her way through a chicken salad; Sayori had opted to buy an entire hoagie from the cafeteria and had to her credit almost polished it off. The presidential duo were in their study hall hour, and had opted to leave the classroom and sneak up to the library for privacy and the view. Nobody gave them any trouble; it was Friday, after all, and Monika Sehlke was on good terms with the library staff and never gave her a second glance.

Monika leaned back in her chair, sipping her water. "That is such a load of bull." She said, almost rolling her eyes.

"No…you're a load of bull." Sayori jeered, pointing at her with a large potato chip before eating it.

Monika leaned forward, putting her hands on the table. "You're telling me if you took an absolutely pissed off gorilla, a fucking silverback, and put it in a cage with an equally upset hippo, the gorilla would win?"

Sayori dabbed her lips with a napkin, typing away at her laptop. "That is correct."

"No!"

Sayori was laughing. "The gorilla would choke it out, just like–" she made a gesture with her hands, still looking at her screen. "Choke the shit out of it with its giant gorilla arms."

"A hippo is a literal death machine!" Monika said, exasperated, throwing her hands up. "They're blind raging hormonal…tanks of flesh with skin this thick!" She made a space between her fingers. "They literally kill their own babies in fits of anger! Their only emotion is kill! They kill for the sake of killing! Hell, hippos kill more people in a year than lions, like, two to one!"

Sayori folded her arms. "Two gorillas, one hippo."

Monika sputtered, but she was laughing. "You ca-you can't change the rules of the fight!"

She grinned. "Or, one gorilla with a machete. Would they win then?"

Monika thought about it for a minute. "No."

"Oh come onnnn."

"Give the gorilla a machine gun." Monika swirled some of her salad into the ranch and took a bite, looking down. "It might have a chance then."

"Suuure, suuure."

The conversation dropped. Outside, a car was honking angrily at a truck that nearly clipped it as it was exiting the parking lot, turning to merge with the traffic. People were starting to head home from work, and there was just one more class for the day. Monika yawned, and felt herself stretch for a moment in her chair. She couldn't wait to sleep in this weekend; earlier she and Sayori had begun drafting up what a possible summer festival booth for the Literature Club might look like, and later on a summer trip as a club. They had started talking about destinations in the group chat, but it was more of a matter of how to collect money for it (the last of the club's earnings from the previous festival had mostly run out).

Sayori shifted in her chair, tucking her skirt under her legs, and took a sip of her tea. "So, any plans for the weekend?"

"Uhh, not really. I really just wanna sleep in and recharge. This week has been miserable. What about you?"

She shrugged. "Well, Kazuma and I are gonna see a movie tonight. And then Yoshi wanted to go to this anime convention downtown over Friday and Saturday, so I guess I got a full schedule."

"Oooh, Miss Pop-ular~", Monika cooed. "Got all the boys under her thumb."

Sayori just rolled her eyes. "Yeah right, like I haven't seen your DMs. All those girl–"

"Up-pup-pup-pup." Monika interrupted, putting a hand up. "Those are just chats. I'm not marrying them."

"Yet."

Monika stuck her tongue out. She watched as a helicopter, a silver-blue news chopper, drifted by, the sound of the rotors faint through the windows. "How is Yoshi, anyway?"

"Oh he's good." Sayori said, digging for the last of her potato chips. She stuck one in her mouth. "He was telling me about how the vet club went to one of the local shelters and helped clean the cages and stuff."

"That's cool."

"Yeah." Sayori started to collect her trash together. "He came over for dinner last week, my parents liked him…I think."

"You think?"

"I don't know." Sayori got up to toss her trash and sat back down. "I, uh, I guess they always thought I'd end up with Kazuma, ahah."

The president raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"They would always tease me about him, growing up. Y'know, 'Ohhh, he's so haaandsome, do you liiike him Sayoriii?' That kind of thing." She continued, "Me and him were attached at the hip, back then. And then high school happened and we kinda drifted, but now…" she shrugged. "Well, now is now, I guess." She laughed. "He has Natsuki, I have Yoshi. That's, uh…um, it is what it is."

Monika nodded. "It's crazy how life changes like that. You never even notice how quickly the time can go."

"Yeah, but what's really crazy is…" Sayori stopped herself, looking around. "Hah, wow."

"What is it?"

"No, it's…" Sayori tried to wave it off. "It's stupid."

"I know you are," Monika said, smiling. "But so am I."

"Nooo, it's just…" She pushed away her laptop, looking at Monika. "I…well…used to have a crush on him."

"On Kazuma?"

Sayori rolled her eyes again. "No, Shinzo Abe. Yes, on Kazuma!"

Monika started laughing. "Sorry."

"What-everrr."

"So, you had a crush on him…"

Sayori smiled again, putting her palm against her cheek and looking out the window. "Yeah, hehehe. It was so…well…", she started to laugh, "we were just kids, y'know. We lived right next to each other, the same school, the same lunches, it just made sense."

"And he was always so protective of me, back then. When I would fall and scrape my knee, he was there to hug me and carry me back home. He always brought an extra snack in his lunchbox for me, we would read the same books together, we would do…everything together."

She looked down at her hands, where the faintest wounds from her rope were still visible, pink smooth scars against her pale white skin.

"And I guess time got the better of us."

Monika tilted her head, frowning. "You sound regretful."

Sayori gently unclipped her bow and looked at it, turning it over. "Well…I wouldn't call it regretful. Just, I'm thinking about the roads not taken, I guess? I love Yoshi, I really do, but…I don't know." She rubbed the silk with her fingers. "Maybe if I was better, maybe we might've ended up together…"

"It's not about you being right for him or him being right for you." Monika said, looking into her eyes. "Your relationship to him might have changed, but your bond stayed the same. You two love each other, and that's a very hard thing to say and know that it's true these days."

She continued, "Have you ever thought to tell him?"

Sayori blinked. "Tell him what?"

"That you had a crush on him."

The vice president seemed shocked. "What? No! I don't want him getting weird on me."

Monika nodded.

"I mean, I know he never liked me like that anyway."

The first streaks of rosy pink sunset were starting to paint the skies over Edogawa, just after seven o'clock. The air was warm, with a cool breeze blowing now and then. The streetlamps were just beginning to flicker on up and down the boulevards, as the salaryman traffic was starting to die down and people were getting home. The weather was so pleasant I had the air conditioning off and rolled the windows down, letting the wind fly through the car.

We had just left the movie, which turned out to be pretty boring. I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel, smiling as I felt the cool air blow against my face. Sayori had nodded off in the passenger seat, seatbelt on and leaning her head against the frame of the door. A thin long line of drool was just beginning to dot her lip, her coral hair blowing in all different from the wind.

The radio, hooked up to my phone, droned on. I hummed the melody and looked over at Sayori, snug asleep.

And brake checked.

Still strapped in, her body lurched forward and the little specks of spit flipped off her face. Her hair flipped forward and then back, and she was snapped out of her slumber.

Sayori gasped once and glared, flipping me off. "Fuck you."

I burst out laughing. "Hey, don't make me charge you for the drool damage."

She looked down at her blazer, which was now growing dark in spots from her saliva. "Oh…ew." She brushed herself off, flipping the car mirror down and started styling her hair back into shape. I shook my head as I pulled the car onto the freeway back to Edogawa proper from Tokyo. From here, only a twenty or so minute ride back home.

We were crossing the same freeway I took on Natsuki's ramen date.

"So listen, there's something I wanted to tell you about. Rather, get your advice on."

"Oh yeah?" Sayori was leaning back all the way in her chair, her hands folded behind her head. Her eyes were fluttering closed.

She continued, "There's something I've been wanting to ask you about, too."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "Oh?"

"Yeah…but you go first, though."

The car cruised along the freeway, passing over the bay with its many warehouses, shipyards and wharfs. The warm LED lights were just beginning to activate, illuminating the roadway with a dizzying electric glow.

"Well, it's about Natsuki."

"Ah."

"I haven't spoken to her in about two days, and she hasn't responded to any of my texts. I don't know what to make of it."

"Did y'all fight?"

"No, the last thing I said was I was having dinner with my parents, and then she–"

My phone flashed.

Incoming call from My Girl~!

I felt my heart skip a beat. "Oh…oh!" I cleared my throat and pushed the answer button, the call playing through the car. "Hey, my love. What's up?"

Natsuki's voice croaked, slightly tinny over the speaker. "H-hey, baby…"

"I have Sayori with me, you're on speaker."

Sayori grinned and leaned forward. "Hey guuurl! Where you at! Let's pick you up and go do something!"

Natsuki started to giggle, but her voice was strained. "Haha, maybe."

"What are you up to, hun? Are you okay?"

"No…n-yes. I'm just, I had to call you. I'm sorry. I know I've been gone a minute."

"Yeah, I was starting to get worried."

"I'm sorry, my love. When I was texting you I actually, uh…", there was a loud thudding sound, muffled by the speaker. "Well, y'all are gonna make fun of me, but I was cooking dinner for my Dad and I dropped…my phone."

Sayori and I looked at each other.

"Into the pan. And it um…got fried. Ruined. The ports were, yeah."

"You served it to him with or without the phone?" Sayori teased.

I could almost see Natsuki rolling her eyes. "Yeah, with a side of chips."

I was chuckling. "Okay, so your phone broke. That makes sense."

Nats continued, "Yeah. It's also been, um, well I got sick with something. I don't know what."

Sayori frowned. "Aww, are you feeling better? We can bring you a care package…"

"No, no." She coughed once, twice. "It was yesterday. I think it's just a stomach bug, but I feel like shit like the flu. I don't…I don't know if I'll be there on Monday, just to let you all know."

Is she lying?

"Aw, Nats. Well, if you need anything, let us know, alright? Let me know."

"Of course, hun. Thank you. I'm gonna try to take a nap."

"I love you, baby girl. Be safe for me."

There was a pause.

"I-I love you more, dear. I'll see you soon."

"Goodbye." And then the call ended.

Sayori was looking at me, with a warm smile spreading across her face. Her hands were laced together, pressed against her cheek. I looked over at her with a bemused expression.

"What?"

"You…two…are…so cute."

I blushed hard. "Ohhh…oh, shut up!" I huffed, gripping the steering wheel. I glanced out the window, trying to hide my smile. "Isn't your house near here?"

Sayori leaned over the console and booped her finger into my cheek over and over. "Kazuma, the big ol' teddy beeear. He loooves his girlfriend sooo much."

I slapped her finger away. "Shush! You ain't one to talk! I've seen you and Yoshi get all lovey dovey."

I turned the car onto our street. She started laughing, grabbing her purse from in front of her seat. "Ohhh, man."

Her house was coming up the block. "So, what did you want to tell me?"

Sayori paused, almost froze for a moment. She looked down into her bag, and then back up at me.

"Oh, um…um, no, just that Yoshi and I were going to a convention this weekend, and I was gonna ask if you had any cosplay ideas."

Author's Note: If I were Dadsuki, I'd be looking for a place to hide. As always, THANK YOU to the readers who favorite and follow Love and Literature, and buckle up! The other shoe will drop for Kazuma in the next chapter, and it's all downhill from there. Reviews are always appreciated!

Chapter 25: The Princess in the High Castle

Chapter Text

You have unlocked a new poem. Would you like to read it?

YES. NO.

YES. NO.

Knight by Yuri Kataguiri

The princess cries

What the darkness cannot hide

A desperate call

To the one true tall

Knight

On a white horse he rides

To the crash of the tide

To a scene of fire and fury

His eyes cannot believe

Alas, he strides

As cold as ice

Into the night

Of that great unknown strife

The beast lurks within

Run, brave knight

Where the brave dare not go

The second ballroom of the Ichiban Event Center my grandparents had rented was comfortable, with tall cream-colored ceilings and stone arching columns. Wide windows looked out onto a lovely grass courtyard where white-sheeted tables and chairs had been set up under the lace canopy. Golden ribbons and twinkling lights had been hung up in sheets against the ceiling, cresting against the columns. Already some delicious-looking spreads of meats and cheeses, pastries and appetizers were set up along the backwalls, as a flow of guests had started to arrive through the double-doored entry. The catering crew had begun to arrive, armed with silver trays of steaming food.

To my surprise, it looked like this party was gonna be a lot more than just some local family. Several cars had been parked on the street just outside the venue, with mine squeezed in the middle behind my parents. I had been told even more people had been invited last minute; friends of the family, distant and more distant relatives, all in all maybe fifty to seventy people. The DJ hadn't arrived yet, but already glasses of champagne were being poured and the mood was jovial. An oldies pop song played from the speakers.

Well, it is a party, after all.

"Ah damn, would you look at that."

My father and I were sitting outside on the patio overlooking the grass courtyard, with its bird fountains, long flower beds and cobblestone walkways. It was quaint, and it looked like a perfect place to picnic, but now the gray stormclouds that swirled above had grown angrier over the afternoon, and the first drops of rain were starting to fall. The air was sweet with dew. My father wrinkled his nose and looked up, feeling the first drops roll down his nose.

I glanced up and clicked my tongue. "Thought it wasn't supposed to rain until tomorrow."

My father, Ren Odaka, shook his head. "So much for weathermen." He started to get up and walked back inside, me following suit. The both of us were wearing tuxedos, black with a white flower pinned on the lapel, mine previously collecting dust in the closet. I couldn't remember the last time I had worn it, and it had curiously felt like it was a size bigger than that last time. I was frowning when I checked myself out in the mirror this morning, but I couldn't scramble for a replacement in time (or afford one). I found myself awkwardly fixing the cuffs now and again, pulling the dress shirt out.

My father took a glass from the table and sipped casually, looking around the wide ballroom. Guests were starting to find spots and set their belongings down at the tables, eyeing the buffet being set up. The smell of the food was dizzying, and made my stomach rumble.

"So, how is your school coming, son?"

"Oh, you know." I shrug. "Coming and going."

My father looked at me funny. "Going, going, gone?"

"I wish."

He laughed. "And what about your Literature Club?"

I smiled, holding my hands behind my back. "It's still the same size as when we started. Now we're just getting ready for the summer festival, and maybe take a trip over the break." I leaned over and took a cup of soda from the table, swirling the ice cubes with the straw.

"You said it was all girls, right?"

I nodded, taking a sip.

"Any of them caught your eye yet?"

I internally rolled my eyes at how much he didn't know, but on the surface I played coy. "No, Dad. Shouldn't my studies take the priority?"

But he started to laugh. "Well, it's good you have that mentality, Kazuma, but to be honest…" He glanced away, and back down into his glass. He hesitated. "Ah, let's talk somewhere more private." He motioned towards the double doors leading out into the main hallway, connecting the other ballrooms together and leading out onto the street. I warily followed.

In the hallway it was much quieter, with only a trickle of guests passing and waving at us, the father-son duo. Outside I could see the storm start to pick up, rain rolling against the windows. We paused by the bathrooms. "Kazuma, I would like to admit something to you. Something I've never really talked about with you before."

I raised an eyebrow, not sure where this was going. "Oh?"

He paused again. "When I was your age, back at Yamaku, I…I'll say it bluntly. I was a shithead."

I was taken aback. "You–what?"

"In my high school days, with Terai and my little clique of friends, we were the kids your mother and I used to warn you about. We would break into vending machines, tag stuff up, carry blades...we thought we were hot shit, but the truth is we were just shit." He shook his head, thinking over his words. "W-we never hurt or went after anybody like that, y'know, but we were just bad kids. School was always an afterthought to me, I did the minimum and nothing but."

"Wow."

I was shocked; I have never known my father to be even close to a violent or gangster-type; he never raised his voice, he almost never cursed, and the most raucous I knew him to be was being an avid collector of the former Horrors of War flipcards that were sold with a bubblegum piece in his childhood, little laminated cards of battleships at war, tanks crushing through the countryside and great armies raging. I stared down into my drink, uncertain what to say next.

My father looked embarrassed, putting a hand to his forehead. "I acted like that, and it was an act, because it was just…that's how we were. We were broke high school kids with an ax to grind. The times we grew up in sucked any kind of enthusiasm for the future, our future, out of us. Japan today is so much different from how it was in my time; there was never the kind of youth outreach or organizations you have today, it always felt like there was someone out to get you. We were given a shitty hand by shitty adults who made shitty decisions on our behalf before we could even walk, and we didn't know how to react, or act."

I didn't know what to say.

"And my little meanstreak lasted me good up until it came crashing home. One night, my father and I got into a dispute. I raised my hand up to my father, your grandfather, and…he…"

He stopped, rubbing his thumb against his chin, but a small smile tugged across his face. "He put me in my place."

I stood quietly, looking down into my glass.

"The police came out, they naturally took my fathers side, and I spent a few nights on the streets stinking like sewage in the rain, before I swallowed my pride and shook my old man's hand and apologized for being such a bad son, a shameful display, the youth disrespecting the elder. And since then, we have always had a kind of mutual respect for each other. We both remember how we were, how it was, and we have grown from it and moved on."

Never in the times I saw my father and grandfather together, at dinner or at school events or otherwise, had I felt the kind of tension Dad was now describing. This was alien to me.

"It was that sort of wakeup call, that sort of life realignment and me getting a big dose of reality, learning that I'm not as slick as I think and that the world owes me no favors, that I began to mature and found myself in my own literature club, and caring about school, and eventually…meeting your mother."

More guests came in through the door, chatting amongst themselves, shaking their umbrellas dry. Younger cousins of mine, who I probably haven't seen since my primary years. It seemed the rain had ceased somewhat, but the streets were damp. I grinned and waved, them waving back.

"So, to make a point to all of this, I am very proud of the man you've turned out to be. You've grown into someone entirely different than I was, someone better, what with your own literature club and your own friends and raising your grades. You have never been a fool to repeat my mistakes, to hide from me."

He stopped to look at me and put a hand on my shoulder, gripping it.

"But as much of a sneak I thought I was…even knew that nobody would believe that my hickies were hives–"

I took a moment to process what he said before turning away, throwing my hands up. "Ohhh my GOD."

My father broke out laughing, clutching his side, his drink shaking in his hand. He leaned against the wall, his head thudding against the boards. I could feel an intense blush rise to my face, the cousins who were just walking by looking at me curiously trying to pretend I didn't exist. My father finished the rest of his drink and set it down on a nearby table.

"So…come on, son. Just tell me, who is it? Are they cute, at least?"

I looked down, and back up again. Guess I might as well come clean. "Ach…well…" I clicked open my phone and swiped over to the gallery, into the favorites tab. I pulled up my favorite photo of Natsuki, from the night of the festival and our first official night together, holding up two kebabs of fried squid like a peace sign in her palm. I showed it to Dad. "I think she is."

He took the phone and looked at it closer, zooming in on the kebabs. "Ahah, wow…now that's freaky."

"Pardon?"

My father reached into his wallet and thumbed through it. He unveiled a slightly yellowed, folded over Polaroid from one of the slots and unfolded it to show me. Presented was a very young photo of my mother, in regular street clothes compared to Natsuki's uniform, holding a near identical set of kebabs up to the camera. At the bottom was a scribbled caption, faint but readable.

'First Date'

I stared at the photo. "That is freaky."

"History repeats itself, perhaps." My father commented, taking the photo back. "This wouldn't be the same girl you asked if she could come over to make sweets, is it? Natsuki, was it?"

I stammered. "A lucky guess."

My father folded up the Polaroid and slipped it back into his wallet. "How long have you two been together?"

I thought about it for a moment. "About eight months. We got together at the festival."

"Maybe it's time we meet her."

My face lit up. "R-really? You'd–"

But my mother emerged from the double doors of the ballroom, dressed in a lovely yellow sundress with a white stripe and red heels to boot, cutting off my thought. Her hair was done up, tied with red ribbons. She was fixing one of her earrings and seemed surprised to see us, beckoning to us.

"Oh, there you are! Where have you two been?"

My father looked down at me and back again at Mom. "Just…having a chat."

"Well, enough of that. It's time to eat." She said, waving us back into the ballroom. "The buffet is ready."

After the food was served and everyone got situated with their plates (I loaded up on these mini cold-cut sandwiches), it was time to kick off the party. The most surprising guest of all to me was Principal Terai himself, who I learned during his toast to my parents that he was Dad's best man at the wedding and would babysit me as a toddler when the newly minted overworked and overstressed parents needed a night for themselves. Terai had laughed recalling how he himself would try to tutor me on spelling and mathematics. Standing in front of our table, he turned to me sitting next to my parents and quipped, "You should be thanking me, you know, for that big headstart on your academics."

Soon my father had taken the mic and did the standard thanking of the guests for coming out and what a great party it was shaping up to be. Closing off his own speech, he leaned over and kissed Mom to hearty applause. Everything was going along smoothly, and I couldn't wait to sneak outside so I could give my own love of my life a call.

I wonder what she's doing right now.

"And now," my father was saying, "I'd like to turn the microphone over to my one and only son, who has prepared a lovely poem he wrote just for tonight in our honor. Now, please, put your hands together for my big man, Mr. Kazuma Odaka!"

The ballroom thundered with applause, or at least it felt that way to me. I shuffled up from my seat to the front as my father passed the mic stick over to me, patting me on the shoulder. I dug into my breast pocket where I had printed the poem onto paper. I cleared my throat and began.

"This poem–"

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.

My phone was ringing, silent but I could feel it rattling against my thigh. My voice snagged in my throat. Good thing the phone was silent, too, otherwise this whole ballroom would be hearing my Love Live ringtone.

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.

I instinctively reached for my phone and clicked it open. That same picture I showed my Dad, of Natsuki holding a peace sign and grinning from ear to ear, flashed with the incoming call.

ANSWER THE PHONE?

YES. NO.

I could feel my vision start to blur. My hands began to sweat.

YES. NO.

The next few moments seemed to go in very slow motion. It felt like my entire consciousness was disconnected from my eyes, watching helplessly from the third person. I became acutely aware of a rotting taste in my mouth, pressing my teeth. I held the phone up to my ear, in front of everyone's confused faces.

"Hey–"

But her voice screamed, "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! GET OFF OF MEEEEE!"

My phone roared in my ear like a blowtorch. I felt my heart crash into my stomach with the force of a thousand suns. My throat closed up and dried out, I was unable to speak. Over the tinny speaker I could hear shouting and the sound of plates crashing, something heavy being shoved over, blaring in my ear.

My baby's voice was tearing. "KAAAZUMAAAHHH PLEEEASE! PLEASE HELP MEEE!"

I couldn't perceive them in my vision, but my parents were staring up at me with worried looks. Could they hear the shouting? I gasped once, twice. I leaned back against the table and gripped the cloth, my sweaty fingers scratching into the fabric.

"Wh-what's happening, what's happening?"

"MY DADS GONNA FUCKING KILL ME! CALL THE POLICE, CALL THE–"

The call clicked.

Now the sea of people, my aunts and uncles and Principal Terai and nephews, were all staring at me and murmuring to themselves. But I couldn't recognize them, recognize anybody. Their faces were twisted now, swirling in their skulls, skin pale as paper, their smiles tearing back against their eyes. I am going insane.

And somehow the fucking microphone was still in my hands. I weakly raised it to my lips, tried to speak. "Uhh…" my mind reeled. "S-sumimas–"

My feet quickly shuffled back, almost tripping back into the table. It was a miracle I didn't just crash over right and collapse. My father leaned forward and grabbed me on the arm, pulling me close. "W̵̧̰̋̕ḫ̷̍̉a̸͎̹̐ť̷̤ ̵͉͕͋ȉ̸̳̬͘s̴̱̹͆̀ ̴̺͇͗͌i̶̧̱͋͝t̵̺̍͝,̷̫̺͋͘ ̷̟͈͆s̵̰̔̇o̵̟͂͘n̴̲̈͑?̵̡̜̋ ̶̭̃͝W̴̱̓h̷̛̲̭̍a̶̡͚͝t̸̖͘ ̶̗̫̈́i̶̥̒͝s̴͓̽̇ ̵̡̖̄̄i̷̦̟͛t̴͔͓̅?̴̘͗ ̴̠͉͛͝"

But I cannot for the life of me understand him or anything. My jaw hung open in shock, eyes wide, my ears plugged with cotton. All I could manage was a low croaking sound, like when you fall out of a tree and get all the wind sucked out of you.

I yanked my arm back and started to shuffle to attention, everyone now staring at me. My eyes locked on the double doors going outside and I began to hurry, no, run to them. I gripped the backs of the chairs for support as I scurried past everyone, my breaths ragged.

"Kazuma! Kazuma!" I can hear someone shouting, a woman's voice but not my mothers. "Kazuma!"

I shake my head and start to run, blurring past the dining tables and food spreads and string lights. I slam against the doors and stumble once, twice, as I stumble down the hallway past the other ballrooms. My fingers dig into my pocket and fish for my keys, the pins digging my skin. The lights are dimmed slightly, but I can see the cars parked on the street at the end of the hall, the streetlamps glowing.

Or am I really moving at all? The colors of the walls, the creams and grays and blacks, are smearing in my vision. I can feel the air as I cut through the tables, bumping something over, but my mind is frozen in time. It's like I'm running on a treadmill and simply sprinting in the same place. Is this really happening?

Behind me I hear commotion, people following me. My father calls out to me but I don't turn back. I grip open the entry doors and step outside. The air is warm now from the humidity, the sky growing dark. The rain had returned, and seemed to be picking up. My tux began to soak some of the rain in, the fabric growing darker.

"Kazuma! Stop!"

The granite steps are slick with rain, and I grab the railing as I almost trip down them, running onto the concrete. I click the key and my car beeps, as I throw open the door and climb inside. I turn the key and my car revs to life, the AC blasting through.

I look back. My father, mother, and several other family members are standing by the front doors, staring at me in shock. The rain is keeping them from coming closer, but my father stood on the steps, his hair damp.

"Kazuma Odaka!", I could hear my father hollering, "Stop what you are doing, now! Do you hear me? Get over here, now!"His jaw was clenched tight, pointing to the ground to come here.

I have never seen my father so angry.

But a far more powerful emotion was rippling through me.

"I'm sorry," I called out. "She needs me."

Fear.

I slipped the car in gear and pushed on the accelerator, immediately ramming into the back of my parents car. Their back bumper crunched like tin and tugged itself off the frame, hooking onto the front of my car. I could hear my family gasp in alarm, holding their hand to their mouth in shock. My eyes bugged out of their skull in shock, my arms flapping like sails in the wind as it gripped the wheel.

I threw the car in reverse, just barely missing hitting the car behind me. The tires squealed against the rain-soaked asphalt as I lurched forward, sending mud flying in all directions.

I floored the gas, spinning out onto the street and down the main road.

...

Author's Note: A freak phone call sends Kazuma scrambling into the night to save his one true love! Little does he know, far bigger and uglier things than him are in play that could spell the catalyst to his puppy love. Can our dense lover save his sweetheart? Find out in the next chapter, Dreams of Love and Literature!

Chapter 26: Reflections

Summary:

Hey guys! This chapter was originally published in 2020 and was the 17th chapter of the original Fanfiction version of this story. Now were coming up on 27 chapters and it has actually taken me this long to realize I did not upload it here as well. This chapter is a flashback and provides some (I think) necessarily details about the Literature Club lore and also moves the time forward several months since Natsuki and Kazuma got together at the festival. The story in-universe began around September 2017 and now the story is set around April 2018. The actual next next chapter, where Kazuma finally meets Dadsuki, is well in the works, and I hope it'll be worth the wait for you all! Thank you always for reading and your support!

Chapter Text

Rain drizzled down in random sheets, gently spilling down the curved bells of the black umbrellas that crowded in this tiny space of grass. The gloomy storm clouds silently swirled in the air, but threatened to bring more down.

I could feel everything. The way my hand gripped against the rough plastic of my handle, the way my ill-fitted suit clung to my shirt, the sweat dripping down my spine to my legs. How much these damn dress shoes hurt. Everything and nothing was aware right now, as my mind spun in cruise control. I struggled to fight back tears once again.

"Sayori's life will forever echo as one of joy and compassion. Since she was a toddler she spent her days bubbly with laughter, working to keep a wide smile upon everyone she came across. Yet, we failed her. We could never make her feel the same way." The pastor droned on, my mind barely registering his words.

Soon came the viewing of the deceased. I stood behind Mr. and Mrs. Asoka.

I lurched forward, my whole body feeling stiff from the weeks of sleepless nights, the crying, the clutching of a knife to my wrist but lacking the energy to pull.

She was so beautiful, even in death. The makeup that brought out the rosy pink that always flushed her cheeks, how her coral pink hair matched so perfectly with that velvet red ribbon. Her dress was an elegant white, done in a knitted style with a sunflower pin tucked at her chest. A bouquet of flowers laid at her stomach, her gentle fingers tucked to hold-

Her eyes snapped open.

Apair of snake eyes drowning in bl̴a̸c̸k̵̷s̷t̸a̵r̶e̷d̸ ̸a̶t̶ ̶m̵e̴.̵ ̷

Ș̴̨̼̏͊̓̐A̵̬͆̚Y̶̤̤͌̎̒̈Ȏ̴̧͙̭͌̿͘R̵̦̭̓̀I̷̻͔̹͌̚A̸̡͇̣̱͊́͝Ş̸̟̮̾͋̀͊ͅO̴̗̮̭̪̍̎K̷̺͓͙̿Ȧ̸̠̪̬S̴̤̗̈́̈́̕A̴̠̓̈́̏͘Ỳ̵̨̳̄̃̅O̶͙̓͒̐Ȑ̸̥͇̃̐́Ỉ̵̻̍́Ặ̵S̴̫̗͙͈̍̾Ò̵̩̺̝̽̅̉Ḱ̴̰̬̱̕A̷̖̒̍́Ş̷̄̊͝A̶̡͎̼͌Y̴͖̽O̵̮͓̗̎ͅR̶̖̠͊͝Ĩ̶̥̺̬̭̂Á̶̙̏Ś̷̛̛̱̱̩͈O̸͍͈̲̩͋͗͋K̷̩͕̭͌̌Ạ̷̛͇͇̬̒̌̽

̷̨̛̜̳͌̿Ȉ̸̛̪̘͗͜M̴̰̐́S̶̞̝̭͐Ö̶͙́͗̈S̶̢̤̪͚̓̌O̸͕̣͆̂̋̌R̶͈͆̊R̴͚̀͐Y̶̡̹̜̓̏̌I̵̫̍M̷̺̥̗͂S̴̲͛̀̉̋O̴͓̥͕͝S̶̥̹̐̍O̷͔̯̤̰̐͛̔R̷̡̻̽̆̎̓R̸̞̐Y̴̠͗͠Į̴̙͚̐̔̈́M̵̤̲̯͆̕S̶͔̼̲̃Ŏ̶̩̥̠́S̸͎͖͍̚͝Ő̶̤͙̘̬̽͋R̴͍͌̔̈̑R̸̺̀͊͠Y̷̭̠͉͓̅͊̽̈́

̴͓͎͉̖̅

̵̨͔͎͗̆ͅF̵̻̔̀̋̆Ọ̶̮̀̇̚R̴͔̮̍G̵͍̑̓̐̌I̴̧͈̬̓̈͜V̶͕̿͗̆́Ḛ̸͕̓̉ ̸̧̲͖̿͐M̵̝̿̍̾̊E̷̲͎̒͐̌ ̵̨̦́̂̿̐F̸̧͖̞̰̂O̷̜͋R̶̨̈́̃G̷̣͔̰͖͊̀͘I̵̙͌̾V̵̜̬̙̿Ĕ̴̙̩̠̦͌͠ ̵͍̃̆͘͝ͅM̸̜͚̒̉̒̔Ę̶̘̯̫̓̀͂ ̴̪̟̃̽̀̚F̷͋͌͌̚͜O̵͆͆͜Ṟ̶͚̙͇̑́͝͠G̴̛̙̏͑̀I̵̙̓̊͝V̶̱̅̉͊ͅE̴̡̜̦͉̐́̈́͋ ̶̯̘͚͝M̶͎̠̐͐E̷̥̍͊

̵̭͍̀̈́̑́

̵̱̚S̸̛̗͈͕̹̀̚͠Ạ̷͋̊̉͋Y̶͕̤̊͛̿Ò̵͎̽R̶̘͙̽̈̊̀Ḭ̷̺͚̘̓̄̔̅

I snapped awake, gasping for air. The lights in my room were off, only the warm glow of a street lamp leaking in from my window. Through blurry vision, I caught the time; 2:17am.

I propped myself up and felt a crunching pain in my side. Slept on the wrong side again.

I took a gulp of air in and swung myself upright, taking a moment to pop my neck. I glanced down at my nightstand and snatched the bottle of water I always kept there, and drained its contents. I licked at my teeth, tasting like shit.

With that nightmare still fresh in my mind, I reflected.

It has been almost six months since her...attempt. Sayori had been making good progress with her therapy appointments. Doctor Yang was an especially considerate man, as I got to know from attending some sessions by her side, our hands clenched together. Yes, I cried. At times. No shame in crying, of course. A lot of things that needed to be said were said. Sayori's medication, some sort of antidepressant and mind boost to her attentiveness, were showing good signs. She of course was the same old Sayori, but certain aspects of her personality felt...restrained. This of course was natural, what with taking mind-changing drugs and all, but it wasn't something that she liked. At the next appointment she and her parents would bring it up to Doctor Yang.

But, nevertheless, improvements were underway. Her marks were skyrocketing, attendance was near perfect, and her teachers were beginning to take notice. Her writing seemed to shift in a sense, from more bubbly and lighthearted to more serious and even thought-provoking (coming from Sayori this was something). She never wrote about her attempt directly, but rather made analogies. The thought itself was just too...painful.

If one "good" thing came out from any of this, it was the solidifying of our status as best friends, just like in our childhood. Our parents were ecstatic of course, getting to host their former get togethers and dinner parties and outings and the likes, something they last did when we were in middle school. It felt like old times; she practically came over to hang out every other weekend. Watching movies and playing PS4 and going out on friend dates to the mall or theme parks. For the first time in a long while, I finally felt...at peace.

I grabbed my phone and opened up my messages, scrolled to our tab.

Are ya up stupid

Sent.

I smirked.

I propped my window open and poked my head outside. At this hour, the streets were dead quiet, if only for the sound of lonesome street cats, meowing quietly to an audience of none. It was so quiet, you could hear the buzzing of the fluorescent lights in the streetlamps. It was still quite dark out, the sun not let brightening up the sky.

Staring across to Sayori's room, her house was dark, windows drawn down. No activity to speak of.

I shook my head. Ach, probably shouldn't be trying to wake her. No sense stirring her at this hour.

I turned to look at my desk. It was about my height, done in cherrywood color and has built in bookshelves stuffed with textbooks I didn't even use. A simple grey laptop rested, next to some scratch paper and a box of pens. Candy wrappers littered nearby, with a very graffitied-up calendar hanging down.

I sat down at my desk and flicked on my lamp. Light glowed against the board I had put up against the wall, in this small space.

Lots of photos were tacked on, a sort of scrapbook I had created weeks ago, with help of my new best friends, the Doki Doki Literature Club. There were a lot of different things; Monika and myself's "road trip" to Taito City to pick up some new banners for the club. A return trip to that bookstore I first met Yuri at to discuss Subject DX, one of her new horror thrills. A day at the mall with Sayori. A field day to the Tokyo Zoo for some...creative insight (andYuriwantedtorideanelephantuntilshewasinformedtheydontdothatanymore).

Natsuki Tamura, the love of my life, had her own section of the board.

A pic Sayori took of me bridal-carrying Natsuki up the stage for karaoke, one duet and one romantic serenade that brought down the house. One of those cheesy photo booths with four mini snaps on it. A on-in-a-million snap of Natsuki getting her hair gnawed on by a friendly giraffe (Monika had a theory that the giraffe thought it was cotton candy, which only pissed Natsuki off even more).

My eyes fell upon that candid pose, of my baby girl swatting away a giraffe like a common house fly (Jeremy, as he was named, didn't take very kindly and spit up half-digested carrots at her).

I suspected something was just...off...about Natsuki's home life.

I have my suspicions, but it's not like I can act on them. Nor can I ask, even if I'm her boyfriend and all.

Natsuki vehemently says I can't meet her dad, at least not yet. Would blow any boys head off with the shotgun he keeps under his bed. Didn't like her last "boyfriend" (which she insisted was some middle school crush and not a real thing but I didn't mind, I mean...Sailor Jupiter was MY middle school crush, so). Always had work to do and never would see him anyway, works late into the night and all. It was either this or that or the other thing. I had only seen a few older pics of her dad, with a younger Natsuki bouncing on his shoulder with pigtails and a blue duckie dress and a pouty frown on her face.

Nothing from this decade. For a while, I thought nothing really of these things. They all seemed so logical.

Then I started noticing bruises on her.

"Baby...what happened?"

I hadn't heard from her in a few days, and she had been absent from the most recent Literature Club meetings. Nobody had been able to reach her, and her activity laid dormant. Only this morning did she text the main group chat, saying she was out of town unexpectedly and that she would be back in class today.

We made a promise to meet up just before the club meeting today.

I didn't notice it when we first embraced, but when we pulled away I almost gasped out loud. Although the concealer did some magic, there was a flush shade of purple, yellow and green ringing around my love's right eye. The flesh was slightly puffy, but the major swelling had subsided. Her actual irises showed light red tinting, a sign of crying, but I didn't pick up on that at the time.

"Oh I um...haha, it's kind of silly, really." She said. Her tone of voice shifted, in a way I wasn't really familiar.

I took her hand and kissed it. "Tell me."

"Hmph." She turned a cheek. "No."

I cozied up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist. I kissed her neck.

"Tell meee…"

"N-noo…"

"Hmmm…"

I leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, just below the bruise but not directly on it.

"Please?"

She scoffed. "Cheaaaap, cheeeap move."

...

"I just uh, ran into a door."

I paused. "Ran into a door huh?"

"Yeah, this fucking car. It just, well I wasn't looking anyway and the guy swung his door open and I was close to the curb. It was the mirror, not the door itself."

"They make cars this short?" I said, lowering my hand to her neck.

"Mmmm…" Natsuki placed a pondering finger on her cheek, and quickly swung a punch into my arm. I reeled back in genuine pain; when she wants to, Natsuki can pack a punch.

"Owww…!"

She started laughing. "Dummy mode onnnn."

"Christ, that actually hurt, ya know." I said, rubbing my arm gingerly.

She leaped up and pecked a kiss on my cheek. "Did that help some?" she said with a grin.

I chuckled. "A little."

My finger rubbed against the film of the Polaroid pic.

Whatever is truly going on, I know I'll always be there at her side.

Always.

Chapter 27: Dreams of Love and Literature

Chapter Text

The engines roared as I turned hard against the multi-lane intersection, the tires slashing through the rainwater as I sped past a green light down the narrow residential streets of Edogawa, getting closer to the busier metro area. The rain had ceased from its previous torrent, but continued to drum down the roof of the car and blur my vision. The windshield wipers flicked furiously, the soft headlights glaring through the darkening streets. As I came up on the next intersection I started to slow my speed, my initial hysteria dying down and realizing the threat of getting pulled over (considering my entire front bumper is missing makes me even more of a target), but my foot stayed hovering over the accelerator. My hands rattled against the steering wheel, the sweat of my palms squishing against the fabric.

I was wrong about everythingI was so so wrong. The bruises on her face. The weird phone calls. The dodginess about her Dad. I knew something was wrong, I fucking knew it. But isn't it true that hindsight is always 20/20?

My car rolled up to the next light, second in line. Across the street loomed the drab-looking squarish City Hall building, its beige brick and sheet metal exterior darkening with the streaks of rain. Soon a third car pulled up behind me, and another boxed me in. An elderly woman with a shopping cart meekly crossed the street, clutching her plastic raincoat. Time seemed to grind to a halt, and I began to feel ancy as I wobbled in my seat. My eyes flickered between the cars, looking to the crosswalk, up at the City Hall, the other buildings, down at my lap. My mind was drowning in a sea of fear, and I had no idea where I was. City Hall wasn't too far from Yamaku, which in itself wasn't too far from the Gaijin Boulevards. Just a few more minutes away, and I'm there.

My God, what if I don't make it? What if he–

Without warning my hands flexed hard against the steering wheel, my fingernails clawing into the frame, trying to rip it free. I began to scream and punch the wheel.

"RRRRRRRGODDAMNIT! GODFFFUCKINGDAMN!"

How could I be so fucking dense? How could I allow myself to be this dense? After all those promises to be better and to always be there for her and to be more considerate, here I am again failing someone I love. Just like Sayori. Just. Like. Sayori. I must've been a truly wretched person in my previous life to be such a fuckup, to hurt people in this place. I deserve this.

I felt tears threaten my eyes. I looked up, and the light was already green. My foot dropped like a brick and the car lurched forward, the engine revving hard. I felt myself gasp as I clicked the blinker and dangerously swerved around the car in front of me, way too close for comfort, where for a brief flash I thought I really was going to hit them. Angry honks came from the driver as I pulled ahead of them, barreling down the strip.

As I rolled up on the next light, I became acutely aware of how hard my heart was pounding, feeling like a blood-filled tick about to pop, a constant ka-thump! ka-thump! ka-thump! that rocked my ears and rippled in my chest. The rattling in my hands intensified, and I suddenly had an icy moment of epiphany.

Call. Call someone. Sayori. Help. The club will help.

Pulling off the street to the side and turning on my hazards, I reached for my phone and opened the dialer. My hands trembled as I punched Monika, Natsuki, Sayori and Yuri's numbers and began a group call.

Monika answered first. It was almost seven o'clock now, and she appeared to be in sleepwear, answering from her bed. She muttered, and rubbed her eyes. "Kazuma?"

I tried to keep my voice steady. "H-hey, Monika."

Yuri answered. In the background it seemed like she was in a library of some sort, tall bookshelves and tables behind her. She was in casual clothes, wearing her glasses and her flowing hair combed and tied behind her with a band. "Hello?"

"Yur–"

Sayori answered from inside the lobby of the Tokyo Convention Center, I could tell from the huge windows with soaring metal arches she was walking by. In the background, cosplayers by the hundreds were swirling around the white marble and palm-tree concourse posing for photos and carrying vendor bags. The lobby was warm with its soft golden lights, as the dealers hall and artist alley were closing for the day and people were clearing out to check out the late night scene. She grinned, "Kazumaaah! Heeeey!"

"Hey, Sayori."

She pushed part of her wig aside, looking for a place to sit down with Yoshi. "What's up?"

"I uh…", I felt my voice snag in my throat. "Listen, guys. I'm so so sorry to do this, but something happened."

"Hm?" Monika said, walking into her bathroom. "What did you say?"

Yuri asked, "What happened?"

I started, "Natsuki–"

Her call connected. The screen was black.

"Oh my God," I gasped. "Nats."

"Shhhh…" Natsuki whispered shakily. "Hang on…"

"Natsuki?" Sayori asked, looking concerned. I could see Yoshi peeking from the corner of her screen, confused.

I heard the sound of clothes being shuffled around, and a door sliding shut. "K-Kazuma."

"Yes baby."

"Can you hear me?"

"Yes I can."

"I have to talk fast." Her voice was low, but strained. She coughed, "I'm hiding in my closet. It's upstairs past the bathroom. I don't know where he is, but I think he's downstairs."

"Okay."

"I have a knife. I'm bleeding."

"You have a what?" Yuri cut in.

Monika had sat her phone down and was quickly getting dressed. Sayori looked alarmed, standing up and pacing around in the lobby. "What? What? Who attacked you, Natsuki?"

Natsuki addressed me, "Have you called the police?"

"No. I'm driving to you."

"Kazuma, call the police. I will be fine."

The call began to argue and overlap each other.

"I'm about to–" "The police? What's going–" "Are you okay Natsuk–" "Where are you–"

My voice rang out above the rest. "Natsuki, I'm racing as fast as I can to you. We're calling the police right now."

"Tell them he beat the fuck out of me and he said he's going to kill me. I'm upstairs. I unlocked the front door. Please hurry."

"Oh my God!" Yuri exclaimed, her voice rising.

Sayori was shrilling, "Natsuki, where are you?"

"I have to go. I know what's going to happen. Please hurry."

And then she hung up.

Monika's voice cut through. "What the fuck is going on?"

Detached from it all, the radio quietly droned on. There's a room where the light won't find you, holding hands while the walls come tumbling down, when they do I'll be right behind you~

There were no cars. I punched through the red light.

"Konnichiwa, Edogawa keisatsudesu."

"SumimasenDareka to eigo de hanashite mo īdesu ka?"

"Chottomatte kudasai."

The phone crackles. A brief piano melody plays before the line clicks again.

"Edogawa Police, officer Yagami, what is it?"

"Good evening, uh, I'd like to request a welfare check on one of my neighbors. About half an hour ago I heard some arguing and stuff being thrown around–"

"Who's calling?"

"My name is Gabriel Saenz, S-A-E-N-Z. I'm retired United States Air Force. I live on the 1100 block of Eisenhower Street near Grant Road."

"Okay, Mr. Signs, Eisenhower and Grant…and you said, what you heard fighting next door?"

"Yeah, me and my wife were sitting down to dinner just now and we heard some screaming, a young girl, and what sounded like glass breaking. I don't know him too well but I know he's got a high school daughter, and it was pretty loud. There was shouting, she was yelling 'get off of me, get off–"

"Are you still hearing the fighting?"

"No, it's been quiet for a few minutes now. The shouting was pretty brief, we weren't sure what to do."

"Is this the first time you've called in something like this?"

"Ahh, no. Police have been over there before, about half a year ago. Someone else called, I think it's just the dad and the girl who live there."

"Do you know the dad's name? Or the girl?"

"Ahhh, shit. I want to say Gary? Or Gerry? He's Army, but to be honest we hardly see him come out of the house. The girl leaves in the morning for school, I wave hello from the porch when I drink my coffee whenever she walks by. I don't know her name, sorry."

"Okay."

"My wife was wanting to go over and see, cause of the girl–"

"No, no, no. No sir. We'll call for an officer to investigate. It won't be too long. Just stay in your house and call back if you see anything else."

"Okay, thank you."

"Thanks."

I arrived at her house in minutes.

The tires squealed as I slammed to a stop right in front of her driveway, swerving the car around and almost clipping the curb. The streets were empty, cars parked in driveways but not a soul in sight. The streetlamps glowed under the mist of the rain, which clung low against the roofs and canopies. It gave the neighborhood an ominous, abandoned feeling, and I heard nothing coming from Natsuki's house. The rain had paused, momentarily, but the sweet smell of dew clung thick to the air.

After she hung up the call exploded into hysteria. As I drove I had to quickly relay and summarize just about everything that had happened in the past few months; the bruises I saw, the talks about her Dad, my parents anniversary party, that cursed phone call, my mad dash to her. Monika knew Natsuki's direct address mentioning she had dropped her off once before and called the local police, who promised someone was en route. It was only a matter of time, but I was surprised the police weren't already here when I arrived. We had all rung off, me promising to call back with an update as soon as I had it.

I turned the car off and sat for a second, staring out the rolled-down window to her front porch, searching for a sign of activity.

What should I do?

have to go in there.

We don't know who's in there waiting for us.

Natsuki is going to die. She's bleeding.

And what if it's a trap and you end up getting killed? You have no weapon. The police have guns, you don't.

I stepped out of the car and walked to the back, beeping the trunk open with the keyfob. I pushed aside some old papers, a backpack and some clothes to reveal the utility space under the floorboard. I quickly pulled out the tool kit and flipped it open, searching through the pieces. A vice grip, a socket wrench, a screwdriver, a coil of battery cables. A flare. A small hammer.

I leaned forward into the toolspace and felt my fingers grab a large, silver crowbar about two feet in length. My hands gripped the cold metal, and slapped the curving end against my open palm, feeling it sting with the wetness.

The police have guns.

I slammed the trunk shut and looked back to the house.

But I have a crowbar.

Holding it with my right hand, I slowly stalked over the lawn to the house, my shiny dress shoes leaving imprints in the patchy dew-clung grass. Past the rose bushes, up the stairs to the patio.

To face the slightly cracked open front door.

I took a moment to check myself, digging a hand through my windblown hair and swiping it back and out of my face. The oak door had a round glass window looking in, covered by a curtain. Under the flickering bulb of the porch light I could see my own face, wide eyed, dripping from the rain, my features stricken with agony. My suit was sort of damp, but dry around the chest and neck from having the heater on. I undid my soaking wet tie and tossed it away, flopping onto a metal rocking chair.

I leaned in towards the frame of the entrance, trying to peer into the darkness. Nothing. No sound. Not even a TV.

I gently opened the door.

"Natsuki?"

It looked like a wrecking crew had just passed through with no regard for personal effects. The house was dark, but the lights appeared to be on in the kitchen. The dresser by the door, I'm guessing where coats and keys were kept, had been flipped onto its side, the contents spilled out by the door. Several photo frames had been shattered and scattered against the hardwood floors, littering the patterned walkway rug. There was a large indent about three feet in diameter in the drywall down the hallway, leading to a staircase to the bedrooms upstairs. On my left was the living room, to the right was the kitchen.

I took a hesitant step forward, my shoes crunching in the glass.

A guttural, labored breathing became audible to me, in the still darkness. I held the crowbar defensively, across my chest, and took another step forward.

"Hello?", my voice said, barely above a whisper.

A dark figure was slumped over by the staircase that I hadn't noticed. They were tall, easily six foot something, with thick graying hair combed over his scalp and back again. The figure was lying on their back, their arm slumped over their body. I stepped closer. A bushy mustache. Black slacks with a brown belt, one tennis shoe missing, with a shredded white tee shirt revealing an average but toned body. Abs visible, biceps bulging. Certainly not a slouch. The unconscious figures' chest rose and fell with each drawn out-breath, several seconds apart.

And a gash wound the size of an apple near his temple.

Natsuki's father.

My face scowled with disgust as I walked towards the figure, leaning over him, peering into his face.

His face was wrinkled, shrunken in, but his features were calm (probably because he was knocked out). There was a half broken dark bottle just a few feet away from his head, possibly the source of the blow, which had stopped bleeding but still looked pretty nasty. It had begun to swell some. I couldn't smell alcohol, but there was a peculiar curling smell I can only describe as like stale cat piss that clung to his shredded clothes. It was pungent, and I recoiled to gasp for cleaner air.

I straightened up and stepped over him, walking up the narrow staircase. My feet squeaked against the steps as I slowly crept upstairs, trying not to make any sound, and cautiously peered down the hallway. A long corridor with framed photos of hillsides and black-and-white military portraits (her extended family?), a small table along the side with candles and books.

Again, no lights were on. There was a small derelict bathroom with the door wide open, and two bedroom doors ahead. I walked to the first one, which had a deadbolt on it, and jiggled the knob.

Locked.

I rapped my knuckle against the door. "Natsuki?"

No reply.

I looked ahead to the other door, which was done in pastel white with a faded color painting of a yellow rose, streaked over the upper half of the frame.

I walked to the door and jiggled the knob. It opened with ease. Hesitantly, I stepped inside.

The room was trashed, but not quite as bad as downstairs. Beige paint walls marked with cobwebs in the corners, and a large hard oak bookshelf had been flipped over on its face. Posters of mountains and skylines were tacked on the wall, next to various drawings and self-made art. A string of Christmas lights rang around the ceiling, half ripped down and drooping down to the ground. A large red comforter had been nailed against the window looking out. The bed had been thrashed up, the blankets flipped over and tossed around the room. A boxy TV sat on top of a dresser, neglected.

I'm hiding in the closet, she had said.

I slowly stepped over flipped books, plastic throwaway cups and pillowcases to a sliding closet door.

I gently knocked on the door.

"...Nats?"

For a second, there was nothing. I heard clothes being shuffled around, and the door slowly slid open.

Her hair was messy, blown out and missing its red clips. A streak of dried blood ran down the side of her face, crumbling in her eyelashes. She was wearing a white tee shirt with a pink cat on the corner, but the shirt was incredibly wrinkled and smeared with dirt and grime. Her pink tutu was the same, shredded and fraying. She was clutching a very large butcher knife, her hand trembling and eyes wide as dinner plates. She seemed horrified for a brief second, at the door opening, before recognition came in.

I gasped, dropped to my knees and pulled her in for a painfully tight hug. She began to sob, pulling on my sleeve and crying into my shoulder, her face nuzzled deep.

"H-hi, babyyy…" she whimpered. She lifted her face and tried to lighten the mood. "See, I told you I'd be okay…"

I kissed her, clutching her cheeks tight. Hot tears spilled from my eyes as I adjusted myself, pulling her onto my lap. We said nothing for a few moments, just enveloped in the embrace. Nothing in that moment mattered more than the two of us in each other's arms.

She pulled away. "Where are the police?"

"I-I don't know. Monika, everyone called them. They're coming."

"Where is he?"

"He was at the bottom of the stairs. He was bleeding."

"Good. I knocked him out with a bottle. He got high and tried to throw me out, saying I was eighteen and needed to grow up."

"Oh my God…"

"We have to get out of here."

I started to my feet and began to pull her up, but she winced in pain. I looked down at her arm and saw a brown tee shirt wrapped tightly around her arm, a makeshift tourniquet, turning black with blood.

"What–"

"I rolled in glass during our fight. It cut me up bad but the bleeding stopped. That was when you called."

"Can you walk?"

"Y-yes." She stumbled a bit, almost tripping over a book. "I want to get out of here, baby."

"Then let's go."

I wrapped my arm over her and half carried, half guided her over her ruined belongings and into the hallway.

But someone blocked the path.

For a moment, the figure at the end of the hall said nothing and just stared at us, his chest heaving hard. He was about six foot even, but still a giant compared to me. A clump of ice wrapped in a towel was held up to his head. Blood dripped down his face and onto his pecs, rolling down his body. His eyes were low, creased, but under the glow of the hallway lights had an energy coiled like a spring ready to pounce.

"Identify yourself," he growled.

I glared.

"You…" I start, my voice low. "Are not laying one more fucking finger on her. Do you understand?"

He ignores me. "Nice suit. Like a little boy wearing Papa's shoes."

"I know what you've done! The police are on their way! Surrender now and make it easier for you!"

He guffawed. "You wanna go to jail, son? As if I don't have friends with PD, and right now all I see is some burglar trespassing on my property. Who they gonna believe, the army vet or some faggot punk?"

I hold my ground, glaring daggers into this demon. Natsuki's hands shake, tightly gripping the back of my blazer. I put my arm out behind me and she grabs it, fingers digging my skin.

He snorts at me. "Oh, I see how it is. You must be her pimp. Cute, the two of you can share a jail cell."

"I wish you fucking would! I'll drag you into the cell with me, you sick monster!"

Natsuki starts to whimper. I can feel the veins in my temple pounding, constricting.

My blood is getting icy. My teeth grit. "I am not leaving until you apologize to this girl or throw me the fuck out."

Natsuki began to cry. "K-Kazuma…wait…"

He straightens up, popping his neck with a sickening crack-crack. He tosses the wad of ice away, the cubes rolling across the floor, and assumes a fighting stance. "Motherfucker, if it's a fight you want. I got no trouble beating your Jap ass before they cart you off to juvie."

My fists tensed up.

White spots flash against my vision.

"What's it gonna be, son? Who are you really?"

I slammed my foot on the ground with a sickening thud. From the bottom of my lungs up to my throat past my lips, my voice finally found its footing.

"I am Kazuma Odaka, goddamn you!"

I point the crowbar at him like King Arthur's sword.

"And you will either respect her or you will fucking fear me!"

He just stared at me, dumbfounded.

I slammed my foot on the ground again, bearing myself up. I threw the crowbar aside and pounded my chest with a hearty thump-thump!

"Come oooon!" I roar. "You think you're so fucking bad!?" 

I throw my arms across to wingspan and clench my fists. 

"Come and take it!"

I am going to kill you.

He growls and shakes his head. "Get the fuck outta my house already!"

He stomps forward.

My chest tightens.

And for that brief, fleeting moment…the entire world seemed to hold its breath. Every second, every movement, every blink became carefully calculated, synchronized, timed. I became acutely aware of the sweat dripping down my brow, the wrinkles and creases in this monster's face, the chipping in the paint on the walls. My car, the literature club, Natsuki Tamura, it all seemed so distant from my mind but so present. Every heartbeat rippled through my body, as my vision narrowed and my muscles pulsed.

Then the screaming started.

"NOOOOO!"

Natsuki reels back in shock as the first punch whirs past my face, scraping by my nose. His entire weight was behind the punch, and he clumsily lunges past me and misses me. As he tries to realign again, I throw my arm back and land the first blow against his jaw with a hearty smack! As my knuckles pop against his cheek. He grunts in surprise, but I don't stop. Two, three four punches straight to the face. I've never been in a fight in my life, but the adrenaline was in control for this one.

"You little–" he growls, but I swing my foot forward and land a solid kick against his stomach. He stumbles back, not expecting the blow and I lurch forward and sprint down the hall to tackle him to the ground, slamming against the corner of the wall and tumbling down the staircase. The two of us grip and claw for each other's clothes and screaming obscenities at each other, our bodies crashing and falling against the wood railing of the stairs. His weight is more than mine, and as we hit the bottom he collapses against the railing and drops a few feet to the floor, the wind knocked out of him. A set of keys on a lanyard flip out of his pocket and snag against one of the splintered wood poles of the railing.

I seize on this and start whaling blows on him, his face, his forehead, his throat. Blood drips down his nose, from his lips, a gash swelling on his eyebrow. He starts to shout. "Get the fuck offameeee!"

My voice is raging, "YOU MOTHERFUCKER! FUCKING COCKSUCKING CUNT! I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU! I WILL BURY YOU UNDER THE FUCKING JAIL!" He hollers something and grabs me by the throat, squeezing hard as he tosses me with ease against the wall, my body rolling across the busted glass and striking the busted railing. I cough, gasping for air, gripping my chest. Something definitely broken.

He rises to his feet and sneers as he towers over me. "You think you're so fucking tough? Huh? A regular John Wayne, is thaaat riiight?"

He grabs me by the throat again and literally picks me up, his muscles bulging, tensing up. Hate writhes across his face as he inspects my features. Spittle drips down my mouth as I dig into his fingers helplessly, trying to claw free.

"All for that whore?"

The rage washes anew within me. Thrashing around in his grip, I lean my head forward and bite down as hard as I possibly can on his hand, down on his thumb. My teeth mash against the bones of his fingers and tear open a wound, digging deep against the veins, blood gushing immediately. He shouts in pain, and starts punching me hard in the skull. Once, twice, three…

I can see the angels.

Natsuki's screaming is constant, a shrill wail like a tsunami alarm. She's hitting him on the back, trying to rip him away, yanking on his pants. "DADDY STOP, STOP PLEASE, YOU'LL KILL HIM!"

With his other arm he grabs me by the belt and throws me again, and there's the odd sensation of my body literally flying through the air, soaring past the stairs, past the front door.

Before I crash into the living room, my head knocking against the frame of a leather couch. This room was untouched by whatever fight happened earlier. A large flatscreen against the far wall. Large photos on the walls. Colors. Wood. Metal. My head hurts. I can feel blood trickling from my…

In the kitchen he strikes her, and a ball of pink slumps to the ground.

I stir to my feet, but the air is sucked out of my lungs. I blow out, and try to suck in air again. My lungs are on the verge of failure.

He starts to walk over to me, a sneer on his face. I scurry to my feet and scamper away, behind the couch, behind some sort of table. He reaches down, grips the couch from its legs and throws it to the side, the couch crashing against the wall. Drywall explodes as the frame of it strikes the wall, tearing down photos in a loud crash.

"Ohhh, come ooon now, queerbait," he scolds. "This was juuust getting fun."

I rise to my feet again and raise my fists up. "I'm still…still standing."

He grabs me by the hair and glares at me for a moment, peering into my busted face. "Was this all worth it, son?"

I can feel the blood pounding in my skull. One of my teeth is definitely broken. My mind spun, with dreams of love and literature. With the last of the strength I have, I reel my foot back and play my last trump card. I swing forward and kick him as hard as I can muster in the balls. He drops my head and crumples inside himself in pain, gripping himself.

On the table sat some books and a mug. I grab the mug by its handle and smash it clean against his head. He drops, but isn't out for the count. Again I grab his hair and land a few blows to his jaw, but he simply won't stop. His strength has no limit. He picks me up by my suit and tosses me again, throwing me against the TV. In a cascade of white electric sparks it explodes, smashing against the speakers as I crash to the ground. Thousands of LCD crystals splinter in my face, cutting my hands up in microscopic pieces. DVD and CD cases fly in all directions, crashing around me.

This is it. This is how it ends.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!"

I look up.

There stood Natsuki in the entry of the living room, tears rolling down her face, holding a long barreled shotgun.

"What the…" The beast mutters. "How–"

Natsuki lifts the gun up and fires a single warning shot, blasting through the popcorn ceiling in a blistering explosion of wood splinters and sheetrock, raining down on all of us. The echo of the gunshot vibrates through the room, a frightful deafening sound that rattled through my bones.

She pumps the gun, dispensing the shell, and aims it at her father. "WILL NOT TELL YOU AGAIN, DAD!", she screams. "LEAVE HIM ALONE, NOW! THAT'S AN ORDER!"

He looks back at me, and back to her. "You…", he laughs. "What did you just say?"

She takes a step forward. "YOU DON'T THINK I WILL!?"

He shakes his head, grinning ear to ear. "You don't have the nerve to–"

The gun finishes his thought.

The demon flies backwards, towards me, and slams to the ground in the debris of broken television and furniture. The air again gets squished out of me, all two hundred and something pounds of man crushing down on me like a truck. There's a sickeningly sweet metallic smell in the air, as I see Natsuki literally fly back from the force of the gun and drop to the floor of the hallway.

My ears are still ringing, and a puff of white smoke still clings to the air. A massive dead weight is slumped over my body, with gallons of paint being poured over my suit. A fleshy stump of something is resting on top of my chest, with pipes and wires and parts flickering and pumping inches from my face. The dead weight says nothing, and it takes all of my strength to try and shove it off of me, my hands slick with paint–

It's not paint. And it's not a stump. It was Natsuki's father, decapitated from the gunshot.

But in this moment, I still cannot recognize this, believe that it's really happening, and as the ringing in my ears starts to die down and fill with the swell of police sirens, I notice something peculiar wiggling around in my lips, touching my teeth. I reach my hand into my mouth and grab the tiny little piece, squishing it in my fingers.

It was a bleeding chunk of his eyeball, about the size of a penny, his gray sclera visible.

And it was now my turn to scream.

ACT FOUR

THE FLOOD

Chapter 28: Unfamiliar Ceilings

Chapter Text

You have unlocked a special poem. Would you like to read it?

YES. NO.

YES.  NO.

Are you sure? You will have the option to read it later.

OKAY.  NO.

Thank you. Please continue.

My eyes fluttered open.

"What's it like out there, anyway?"

"Just gorgeous. Wilderness as far as the eye can see. Perfect for hunting."

I was in a room, lying in a bed but not my own. The walls, pushed back and rising high above me, were pastel pink with a down feathery white ceiling. Flecks of the down slowly floated past me, landing on my lap and nose. A massive window was behind me, with glinting rays of sunlight shining down onto the comforters. No furniture, save for a cherrywood nightstand and a matching rocking chair tucked in the corner. I looked down at my body to see I was wearing a simple white nightgown with spaghetti straps, short frilly cuffs and a flowing blouse bottom that ran down to my ankles. Airy, and so smooth to the touch. My fingers ran through the fabric over and over as I stirred in the bed, my feet rubbing together.

"Lots of gunfights? The Wild Wild West?"

"Nah, not as many as you'd think."

Who is that?

I flipped the comforter off of me and rolled out of bed, dropping face first to the carpet. My fingers dug into the fabric as I woozily climbed to my knees, taking a step forward, gripping the bed frame for support. My feet felt sore, like they had been walking around on gravel barefoot all day. I hobbled to the door, my back aching, and twisted the greasy knob open.

The door dropped down to an inky black staircase, widening as it descended into the abyss. No hallway, no other rooms. Just an endless stairwell spiraling down into an unknown darkness.

"You gotta see the skyscrapers they got over there. Makes Tokyo look like a playground."

"Hah, I bet."

The voices were coming from downstairs.

I gripped the rail and slowly inched my way down. As the light from the room faded and I descended lower into the still darkness, I began to notice a funny curling smell, something pungent but not quite unsavory. An artificial sweetness, orange citrus or some other fruit. I tried to peer over the railing of the stairs, but only the abyss was there to greet me.

I stumbled down the last step and turned the corner.

A massive living room with the same cherrywood furnishings; a heavy dining table, chairs, a bookshelf crammed with trophies and textbooks. To my left a patio window with that same harmonic sun glowing in the bedroom, streaming soft rays of light down on the carpet. To the right was some sort of kitchen. In the center of it all, under a twinkling chandelier, was Kazuma and my father seated at the dining table. A massive banquet had been spread out, a white tablecloth with candles and plates and utensils. My clean-shaven father was standing behind Kazuma, pointing down at a large scratched black binder. They were wearing tuxes.

And they were smiling.

"That's the Texas Commerce Tower," my father said, tapping on some photo on the page. "I had a friend who worked maintenance there back in the 80s. He took me up there one night when they were fiddlin' with the window washing rigs. Man, what a view. A thousand feet up, the whole city turns into a sea of lights."

Kazuma was peering down at the binder, awestruck. "Wow. I've only been up the Tokyo Tower."

"Hah, the Tex'n Commerces 'bout the same height."

I stood in the entry of the living room, speechless.

My father glanced up at me and grinned, closing the binder and setting it aside. "Good morning, sweetheart!" Kazuma looked over at me and did the same, spreading his hands out. "There she iiis! How'd you sleep, baby?"

"I–"

Kazuma pushed the chair closest to him back with his foot, beckoning me over. "Come on! Sit! Breakfast is here, look." He got up and gestured to the table, pointing stuff out. "Eggs, bacon, sausage. The toast is almost ready, we got some orange juice…", he looked back at me, still unmoving. "What is it?"

I took a hesitant step forward, my fingers gripping the sides of the nightgown. "Wh-why are y'all doing this?"

Kazuma glanced over at my father, and back to me. "Huh?"

My father cleared his throat, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Uh, sorry we didn't wake you sooner." He tugged on his shirt. "I was just showing Kazuma one of my old photo albums from Houston. But, anyway, you'll get to see the real thing soon enough."

I walked closer to the table, sensing a trap, peering at the banquet. "See…what."

Kazuma cut into his egg yolk, scooping it with a spoon and spilling it across the hash browns. "Well, we gotta get dressed soon anyway." He turned back to my father, pointing with his finger. "Remember, the flight leaves at four and we still need to pick up some earplugs." My father just nodded and walked into the kitchen. Kazuma took a big bite and a gulp of the juice, waving me to sit down.

I sat at the table, staring down at the plate set for me. Sunny-side up eggs, a pile of fried potatoes, a tall glass of juice. A slab of pork chop dripping with grease. A slice of pie with a dollop of melted whip cream dripping down the crust. I reached for the fork.

But as I swiped for it, the utensil vanished, ghosting through my fingers.

"But listen, hun." Kazuma turned to me in his chair, but he was no longer smiling. His bright face seemed sickly, constrained. Heavy swollen bags under his dark eyes. He leaned forward and grabbed my hand softly, tapping my palm, tracing his finger in a circle. "You need to wake up."

What? No. No no no please.

"Huh?"

"Hey, hun, I'm sorry but they want you to wake up."

IDONTWANTTO

"Come on, Natsuki."

"Wake up."

My eyes fluttered open.

The jail cell was cold, beige-painted cinder blocks with a concrete floor, drain in the center with a stainless steel sink and toilet. I was lying on a concrete slab hanging to the wall, a thin sleeping bag of a mat and some mud-brown tweed blankets to cover me. The bars of the cell looked out onto a small lobby, a row of police terminals with drab-faced officers standing around, staring at computer screens or talking to people. Near the front a gray-haired woman sobbing, being consoled by a female officer. Two gruff, more muscular officers were assisting an elderly drunk into the lobby, dropping him down onto a reception chair. A third, scrawnier officer dragged his two smelly duffel bags of belongings past us, heaving as he lugged them. The smell of a fruity floor cleaner was overwhelming in my nose, and I coughed.

Kazuma was crouched down beside me, pushing my shoulder. An officer stood behind him, his hands on his belt, lip pulled back in muted disgust.

"Hun."

I groaned, turning on my side. "Mmmhh…" I became acutely aware of the dull ringing in my skull, and some sort of bruise swelling on the back of my head. A migraine.

He sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Where are we?"

"The police station. You were knocked out by the recoil. Hit your head on a wood scrap."

"Recoil–"

Oh. Right. That wasn't a dream. I, Natsuki Tamura, murdered my own father.

And I would fucking do it again.

Kazuma bit his lip, and glanced back at the officer. "Can you bring her some water, please? A few minutes of privacy?" He nodded, dismissive. "Thanks."

The officer looked Kazuma up and down, said nothing and walked out of the cell. He shifted closer to me, kneeling down at eye level. His hand slowly stroked my hair, playing with my earlobe.

"What…", my mind flatlined. "What's going on?"

"The club is here, I saw them, but I haven't been able to talk to them. They've been questioning me for two hours now. It's…", he looked at his watch. "Almost ten o'clock. My parents are here."

"What are they saying? The police."

"They're…", he trailed off.

"They've just been asking me why you did it. How we know each other, Yamaku, the club. What happened tonight. Everything. I told them we're dating and that your father abuses you and you just called me from my parents' party I was at and that you said he was going to kill you."

Commotion in the lobby. The old drunk was being picked up from the seat and dragged to a cell, his head hanging low, drooling.

"And just that I sped over to your house, he fought me and somehow you got a gun and shot him. I've told the story like a dozen different times now."

I now noticed Kazuma was cleaned up somewhat, his head damp and combed back, his face washed but swirling with bruises and cuts. A plain white tee shirt and loose fitting khaki shorts tied with a skater belt. His hands were bandaged up, blood soaking through the palms. His fingers trembled, awkwardly lacing and crossing them together, unsure what to do with them.

He was scared. My God, this is what I did to him. I'm responsible for all of this.

"I think they're trying to see if I'm lying or not."

"Are th–I…I don't…"

"They said they haven't charged me with anything."

I was silent.

"Nothing. One officer said I was a victim in this."

He continued, "They keep trying to get me to say you planned this."

"What?"

"I told them that's bullshit, over and over again. I got angry and screamed in their faces, that they don't know you or your dad. That you've been abused for years and he was going to kill you. But they don't know where the gun came from."

"It was that piece of shits–"

"Or who got the drugs."

I propped myself up. "That fucking–"

"They tried to get me to sign some typed up paper that ends my involvement in this. An officer warned me it would be easiest to sign it and forget about you. They tried to say it like, 'you wouldn't even have to testify in court about this', it would just go away."

My jaw dropped, but I winced, feeling a large welt underneath my chin from where he struck me. "Are they trying to say–"

"Premeditated murder." Kazuma's voice was hollow, echoing in this concrete cell. "Manslaughter, parenticide they called it. And God I don't even know what they're trying to say about the gun or the drugs. Whatever that thing you used was, it's incredibly illegal. They kept calling it a weapon of war and told me how insane it was to even own it, that they've never seen something like it. Not in their history of law enforcement or whatever the hell."

He continued, "They're looking for a scapegoat in all of this."

My head thudded against the wall. I felt like crying, but no tears came. I just felt a cold, biting emptiness that swept over my body like a tidal wave. My life is over before it even began. I will never marry Kazuma. I will never have children. This is my hell. I stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling, but only the harsh swinging light bulb offered me an answer.

You are fucked.

Kazuma got up and sat next to me on the concrete slab, putting his head against mine and rubbing my shoulder. He leaned into my ear, dropping his voice a tone. "Did he have more guns that you know of?"

"I…I don't know. I just knew about that one I used. He kept it under his bed, it was some sort of collectors item, really rare. I barely knew how to load it from a movie I saw."

"I don't either, but apparently there's more in the house. The police are all over the place, the news, everything. I saw it on TV in the lobby. They're calling it the crime of the fucking century, never happened before. Not in decades."

My voice was distant, staring off. "Oh my God…"

"They just kept quizzing me over and over, like they thought I was lying."

The officer returned with two of his buddies. Kazuma rose to his feet and glared at them.

"What?"

The officer ignored him and entered the cell. "Natsuki Tamura?"

I shakily rose to my feet, assisted by Kazuma.

"Yes?"

"Come with us."

Removing the tweed blankets, I got to see my body in the pale light. Someone in my sleep had changed me into a dingy white hospital gown, with short frilly cuffs and an open blouse bottom.

Would you like to read your new poem?

YES. NO.

YES.  NO.

The Real and the Fake

By Natsuki Tamura

Who's to say?

What's real and what's fake?

My memories of mother

The glare of Father

Can you ever be so sure

Of the sickness and the cure?

Who's to say?

What's real and what's fake?

From high highs to low lows

Under the glare of the sun

Or the glow of the moon

A rose in bloom smells just as sweet

Who's to say?

What's real and what's fake?

You are not an expert

But neither am I

Oh well, can anybody know?

I guess, one day, we will all find out

on th e̷̢̩͋̈́ ̴͓͛ö̷͎͈̓t̶̡͂͠h̴̢͉̓ē̸̘̯r̵̠̃  ̷͙̹̾̅ś̸̺͈̂ i̸͙͙͑d̴͕͖͛e̶͎̎͠

Author's Note: Hey everyone! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all of my followers and readers, I sincerely hope you're all having a great holiday break. It's my understanding that the Fanfiction site has changed the notification system where you have to manually opt-in for email notifications on stories, so if you're wanting to stay up to date on new Love and Literature chapters you'll have to do so in your user settings. This chapter is the beginning of a brand new arc, and new characters and settings will be slowly introduced as Natsuki and Kazuma find themselves fighting against the world and, with the help of the Literature Club, will overcome even the biggest and greatest tragedies.

There will be a happy ending, but things will have to get worse before they get any better. The power of love will get them through this.

Thank you for reading, and stay tuned for what's to come.

Chapter 29: File Not Found

Chapter Text

The old Tokyo Convention Center, across the street from Sarue-onshi Park on downtown's eastside, is a relic of its time. While the infamous Tokyo Big Sight only a few miles from the civic center in the city's waterfront complex had long since replaced it as the premiere convention facility in the metro area, it has resisted calls for demolishment over the years and managed to keep a lean but consistent event schedule year by year, hosting parties and fundraisers and small-time expos now and again. The Tokyo Convention Center, an Allied-funded redevelopment project finished in the late 1960s, is an unusual mish-mash of traditional brick and mortar construction for the exhibit halls and corridor spaces which countered with the modernist (now retro) steel and concrete face for the front entries and lobbies, complete with twinkling chandeliers, palm trees and potato vine bushes with plush dining tables for the underground food court concourse. Twin steel land bridges crossed the Yokojikken River to the adjacent Sarue-onshi Park, accented with thick trees and tranquil gardens, a favorite photoshoot spot for weddings and cosplayers. While the multi-story convention center, complete with an interior lagoon plaza and connecting independent hotel tower, is nearly a third the size of Big Sight (about 800 thousand square foot against 2.6 million), its low rental rates for venues and dedicated dining options kept its edge in the industry, managing to stave off calls for replacement. The lobby of the center had recently received a moderate renovation only a few years ago, widening the silver-polished arches and allowing more natural light into the spaces, giving it an almost cathedral-like quality.

Sayori Asoka couldn't help but grin as she strutted through the dealers hall one last time, with its massive open-air ceiling and colorful banners hanging from the panel room balconies. Hundreds upon hundreds of attendees were swirling across the floor, with the center of the booths pushed back and opened up into a makeshift plaza, a break from the traffic of people passing by the endless rows and rows and stands. She was in her element; her makeup was on point, her cosplay (Ochaco Uraraka of the My Hero series) was immaculate and she had already gotten a billion asks for photos with attendees. The convention was beginning to wind down, and the dealers hall/artist alley were beginning to close up for the day with vendors draping white sheets over their booths and packing up their containers. Sayori knew better than to blow all her money on the first day; the best merch buys and haggling were always done on a Sunday when vendors were eager to unload anything they could no matter the profit turn. She had indulged in some keychains and posters, but the big ticket items would have to be bought last.

"Oh my goooosh!", a younger girl cooed at Sayori, putting her hands on her face and practically bouncing toward her wearing a slightly frizzy Kagamine Rin wig and cosplay hoodie. Her slightly tired-around-the-eyes plain-dressed mother followed behind her, carrying a collectors bag stuffed with convention buys and other goodies. While the daughter had the expression of 'Does this day have to end?', her mother had the look of 'Can we go home already?'

"You look so great! Can I get a phoootooo?" the vocaloid fan grinned, already pulling out her phone.

Sayori just laughed, tucking a part of her real hair back under the net. "Sure!" She crouched down slightly to be at eye level with the girl and put her hands together, her fingertips touching. The girl thanked her for the photo and joined back with her mom, mingling in with the rest of the departing convention crowd, the security guards already beckoning people and reminding them of the expo halls hours.

"Wow." Yoshi Tadashi said, coming up behind her from the bathroom in Deku's Gamma Suit. "It's like I'm dating a school idol."

"I know, right? So, what do you wanna do now?" Sayori said, pulling out a makeup mirror from her pocket and checking her eyelashes. These were new, she had never worn them before, but she couldn't help but feel they were just a bit too loose on her, sticking together when she blinked.

"I'm starving. We haven't eaten anything since two o'clock."

"Ooohh, right! Well, let's go check out the food court. And I can change into my shoes finally." She winced as she leaned over to rub her feet through the rubber cosplay boots. She should've worn double socks, these things were murder when you didn't have time to break them in.

The pair held hands as they exited the dealers hall, entering the main lobby down the escalators into the concourse. Outside the storm from earlier could be seen out the arching windows as it swirled in the sky, big moody gray clouds stirring around and threatening to dump more rain from earlier. The darkness only amplified the glow of the lights in the spaces as they entered underground. The center had a brighter but more constricted feeling as people avoided going outside, crowding around the public atriums. Sayori and Yoshi followed the herd into the food court spread, which had numerous options including local restaurants and larger chains circling around a series of waterfalls descending from several levels into the lagoon.

Yoshi grunted as a neckbeard shuffled past him, brushing him on the shoulder. He dusted himself off, fixing his collar. "Let's try to find a place to sit, Sayori. I want to look at the schedule."

Walking backwards she turned to face Yoshi. "Yeah, the karaoke is open till midnight according to the badge. That's in the Hilton, I think." Sayori pointed up at the glass atrium going down the length of the corridor, the looming glass 25-story obelisk hotel rising through the skylights. She turned back to front as she pointed up. "Third floor."

"I wanted to see about that Cosplay Chess panel," he said as he fumbled with his lanyard, reading the hours printed on the back of the badge. "I heard it's-"

Sayori's phone rang, interrupting his train of thought. She dug for it and saw it was a group call, started by Kazuma. "Oooh, hey!", she tugged on Yoshi's shoulder. "Kazuma's calling!" She answered it and turned on the camera, smiling and flashing a peace sign. Yoshi tilted his glasses down and waved, too. "Kazumaaah! Heeeey!"

"Hey, Sayori."

The first thing she noticed was Kazuma was driving, his phone hooked up to the plastic holder on his dashboard. He looked...manic. He was wearing a tuxedo, his black hair flipped over haphazardly, and he looked like he was standing out in the rain for a minute before getting behind the wheel. The others in the call, Monika and Yuri, were at home somewhere, Monika laying in bed and Yuri probably at that bookstore she always went to. Natsuki wasn't answering.

"I uh…", Kazuma coughed. "Listen, guys. I'm so so sorry to do this, but something happened."

"What is it?", Sayori asked, angling for an empty table near the fried chicken spot. No seats looked available, but everything smelled good at least. At the last moment, a couple cleared their trash and got up to leave. Sayori tugged Yoshi forward and got the chairs just as a larger group, a literal school idol band, noticed it at the same time they did. The leader of the group soured her expression at Sayori before turning away. You snooze, you lose. The pair sat down with their bags, Sayori leaning forward to dig for her sneakers.

Natsuki's call answered to a black screen.

"Oh my God," Kazuma gasped. "Nats." His voice was tense, fragile.

Natsuki coughed, her voice muffled. "K-Kazuma."

"Yes baby."

"Can you hear me?"

"Yes I can."

Yoshi was looking down at her phone now, hearing the conversation. His eyes darted around and he mouthed to Sayori, 'What's going on?'

She mouthed back, turning up her volume to hear better. 'I don't know.'

Natsuki cut in, "I have a knife. I'm bleeding."

Sayori gasped, her eyes widening. She practically leapt out of her seat and gripped her phone harder, holding it up to her ear and down to her mouth. "What? What? Who attacked you, Natsuki?"

Natsuki said, "Have you called the police?". On his camera I could see Kazuma turning a sharp corner on some street, "No. I'm driving to you."

"Kazuma, call the police. I will be fine."

The call began to argue and overlap each other. Sayori began to alternate between looking up at the crowd around her, their voices and jaunts growing louder in the confusion of the call, and back down at her screen. "I'm about to–" "The police? What's going–" "Are you okay Natsuk–" "Where are you–"

Kazuma's voice rang out above the rest. "Natsuki, I'm racing as fast as I can to you. We're calling the police right now."

"Tell them he beat the fuck out of me and he said he's going to kill me. I'm upstairs. I unlocked the front door. Please hurry."

"Oh my God!" Yuri exclaimed, her voice rising.

Sayori was shrilling, "Natsuki, where are you?"

"I have to go. I know what's going to happen. Please hurry."

Sayori clutched her chest, feeling her heartbeat rocket and her eyes spin. Yoshi gripped her arm and had her sit back down on the chair, nearly losing her balance. An intense white hot heat rose to her face.

She could hear Monika shout, "What the fuck is going on?"

The crying.

The fear.

The rope.

It all came crashing back in her. She could feel it.

She was having a panic attack.

"Hhhh...th...God...", she gasped, her fingers digging into her scalp, shifting her wig off-center. The wig slipped off her head and dropped to the floor, showing her natural coral-pink hair and black net underneath. Her other hand loosely dropped her phone, slipping from her grip.

Then she slumped off the chair to the floor. Yoshi grabbed her at the last second to stop her from hitting the tile.

"Hey, someone get me some help! HEY!"

...

"State your name for the record."

"Natsuki Abilene Tamura."

"Abilene?"

"That is correct."

"What is that, Abilene?"

"It's a city in the United States, Texas. It is Biblical in origin, it means 'meadow' or 'stream'. My father chose it."

"Spell it."

"A-B-I-L...E-N-E."

"Okay."

"I never use it except on official documents."

"I see."

The interrogation room was almost the same as the cell she was previously sleeping in, except a scratched up metal table sat in the center, with two chairs on one side facing another on the other. A tiny plastic white camera sat in the corner, fixed on the table. A plexiglass window looked out into a drab hallway, in some unknown part of the police station. There were two officers in the room with her, a baby-faced brown-haired one fresh from the academy joined by a burlier older one with thick-gray hair (more than Fathers) combed back into a pompadour, probably to hide some sort of bald spot (also like Fathers).

The younger officer said, "So you go by Natsuki, correct?"

"Yes."

"Alright, just want to clarify. And you are...an active student of Yamaku High School?"

"A third year, yes, due to graduate next year."

"And what is your relationship to a Mr. Kazuma Odaka?"

"He is my boyfriend of almost eight months. We met at our school's literature club, a mutual friend introduced us."

"I see. And why was he involved in what happened tonight?"

"Where is my lawyer?"

The younger officer, the same who carried in the elderly drunk's bags from earlier, did not reply for a moment, simply scribbled indescript writings on his form as if he did not hear her. Natsuki paused for a beat then cleared her throat, a tinge agitated.

"Excuse me, I would like an attorney present before I answer any more questions."

"That is not necessary, Natsuki."

"Says you. I want legal counsel before I incriminate myself."

The younger officer looked confused. "You have not been charged with a crime, why do you fear incrimination?"

"Was that my question?", she snapped. "Am I being detained?"

"You are not entitled to a lawyer when under the custody of the police."

"Then why am I here?"

The older officer finally piped up, "Because you murdered your father."

"Excuse me?"

The older officer stood up from his chair and leaned over the table, not uncomfortably close but still in her space. "You are soaked in your fathers blood. Your fingerprints are all over the frame of this," he pulled out a strip of fresh photos from a manilla folder on the table, tapping one, "a Franchi SPAS-12 military-grade combat shotgun, which ceased manufacturing in the year 2000 and is illegal in this country under the Swords and Firearms Protection Law of 1958. Are you aware of these facts?"

Natsuki grabbed the photo and stared at it once, twice. It was the gun she used (she didn't know the name until the officer mentioned it) laying in the hallway of her house, bloody fingerprints visible. She flipped the photo on its side with her wrist, then flipped it on its back. She could feel the sticky warmth of the photo, hot off the printer.

"No."

"Which part confuses you?"

"The part where someone defending herself from her intoxicated abusive father is a crime."

"Self defense is only a natural reaction. What isn't natural is the method of doing so."

The older officer, his shining silver name tag reading HAMADA, put his hands behind his back and began a strut around the table.

"How did you come to acquire this weapon of war, Miss Abilene?"

"My name is Natsuki. You will call me Natsuki. And the rifle belonged to my father."

"How would you know, Natsuki?" Hamada rephrased.

"Because do I look like a deranged fucking gun-toting lunatic to you, shooting off rounds at anything that moves?" She leaned forward in her chair and gestured to herself. "Do I?"

Hamada continued, "You are soaked in your fathers blood-"

She swiped her hands across herself and pointed at the two men, "-Absolutely beside the point! If my father matters so goddamn much to you people, why are you not asking me questions about him!"

The older officer jumped forward and slapped the metal table with his hands, his jaw clenching. "Because we are cleaning bits of his brain from your living room!" He grabbed the photos and tossed them at her, spreading them across the table. "And you WILL tell us how this happened!"

Natsuki's face scowled, and she hissed, "I don't have to tell you ssshit."

The older officer reared his arm back and slapped her with his open palm. Natsuki coiled back in pain, still sore from the bruises during the fight earlier, but held firm in her seat. Tears threatened her eyes, but she stayed still in her seat, only clutching her raw red cheek and dropping her gaze.

"You are in the CUSTODY of the NATIONAL POLICE AGENCYyoung lady," he growled, "bound by the justice and order of my great nation!", the old officer was shouting now, towering over her. "You WILL obey and you WILL answer our questions or face the FULL punishment of the law!"

Natsuki was silent.

"DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR TO YOU, BRAT!?"

Natsuki meekly raised her head up in submission, clutching her mouth. "Y-yes sir."

Officer Hamada, enraged at her resilience, turned on his heel and stomped out. He glanced at his inferior officer, staring wide eyed at his sudden outburst. "Continue the questioning." Then before he left the room, Natsuki heard him mutter, "Disgrace."

And slammed the door shut.

Natsuki coughed, sniffling, dropping her head back down. "Wh-where is my boyfriend? I want to speak to him again."

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but...", the young officer trailed off, glancing up at the camera in front of him, then back down at her. "I don't know what he said to you in that cell, but he's looking for the door. He signed a paper waiving his involvement in your investigation, I don't know if he told you that, but...it means he doesn't have to testify for you. It happens a lot with young boyfriends, trust me, I don't know how many times I've seen cases like this being brought in here."

Natsuki was silent.

"So, if you don't mind, I'd like to ask you some questions about what happened here tonight. Rather, something else we found at the scene of, er, your father's death. Is that alright with you, Miss Tamura?"

Hidden from the baby-faced man of the law's sight, a small smile spread across her face.

Then, lifting her head up to meet the cadets, a sincere grin spread across Natsuki's fanged expression.

"Sure. What would you like to know?"

Chapter 30: I'll Be Your Beach

Chapter Text

Akishima, Japan

 

June 1998

 

Dark puffy storm clouds thundered with ease across the wide grassy fields that made up the landing strips at Yokota Air Force Base, the sprawling nearly eighteen hundred acre facility that made up the seat of shared military power between the United States and Japan here in humble Akishima, a town of nearly ninety thousand people. The storm clouds were massive in size, several thousand feet up in the atmosphere and imposing like a great marching battalion in goose step as they rumbled and rolled down from the far off green mountain peaks, Mt. Mito and Koganezawa. The smell of dew was sickly sweet as the clouds slowly made their approach, the first rain bands dumping on the little wood homes and shacks towards the top and middle of the mountain peaks miles out. 

 

Sitting unhappily under the concrete bus shelter, tapping her foot, Azusa Tamura thought to herself, I’m gonna get caught in the fucking rain again. 

 

The bus service around here was miserable; always late but never early was her unofficial motto thinking about it. You could be here on the dot at every dot, and you’d still be waiting at least an extra five minutes for a ride. The buses were a relic of ‘better’ days, gas-guzzling breadbox looking silver elephants that had a particular whine as they rattled up and down the pock-filled asphalt roads of her neighborhood. She lived with her mom all the way out in Tachikawa, in some gaudy brutalist-looking government housing that sprung up after the war and where you could never get a proper good night's sleep without headphones because of all the civilian planes landing at the nearby airport. She took some drawing classes at the local college and worked at Yokota Air Base in the mess hall, spooning bowls of soup and serving bread rolls with a forced grin for all the handsome young bucks and soldiers that came in from all parts of the world to train and study at the base; she saw strapping, muscular men from Germany, Korea, England, sometimes a few Spanish and exotic types but a majority of those wide-eyed winner-takes-it-all mentality transfers came from the great United States of America. 

 

And she hated every second of it. She hated the unflattering gray-white apron she wore, forever stained with the splatters of sauce and mush from decades past. She hated the hairnets, she hated the heat of the mess hall whose air conditioning was usually on the fritz but the grunts never seemed to mind (not like they would, they spent eight weeks training without it anyway). She hated the girls, ugh, the gossipy too-too chatty girls with their cheap makeup and “I’m too good for this” demeanors she worked with who were really just from the same miserable bunch as her, who lived with their parents and took the bus to work at the military bases because it was better than working at a strip club or a love hotel or, worse, at a goddamn fishing cannery like some peasant second-rate trash. She knew some of the girls from high school who did that, and she gagged at the thought of working there because even though the pay was somewhat better than working for the military ironing uniforms or serving food the smell of rotting tuna meat never really left your skin even if you scrubbed it pink with a steel wool pad and burning hot water. 

 

But she knew she was bellyaching, it wasn’t all that bad. The benefits were superb, dental and eyes and medical. It paid weekly, and it was a fair rate of pay considering how simple the work was; just ladling pre-made trays of water-based eggs and bacon and meatloaf and potatoes into bowls and putting up with the constant winks and half-ass flirts from the GIs who thought they were sooo hot shit because they wore a uniform. Not that she really minded; some, especially the younger ones were kinda cute actually, although her mom would throw a huge fit if she ever fell in love and tried to marry one. Her parents were full-blooded Japanese going back a few dozen generations, with her father dying of diabetes when she was a teenager, but she remembers the two of them at their tiny dinner table at the house they used to own always going on and on about how the Americans were “ruining the quality of life” in Japan, how we as a people could never grow into its own identity because we owed those slack-jawed gum-chewing yanks too much. Not arguing with each other, just agreeing absentmindedly but never actually proposing a solution on how to get out from under Uncle Sam’s boot. In their minds, they (the Americans) were the ones who firebombed us into oblivion all those decades ago, and were we supposed to say sorry to them forever and stay in their debt? Because they helped us rebuild and sponsor 2/3rds of our military and keep the Kims and Maos off our backs? At the expense of what? The destruction of our independence? The loss of our identity?

 

Well, maybe, she thought. It wasn’t an abusive relationship with the US. It was either that or after the war let the Soviet Union steamroll us into oblivion and turn us communist just like North Korea, where your whole bloodline could be erased just for the thought of watching a Western film. She had always wanted to say that to her parents but feared the potential argument (her parents never hit her), and after Dad died Mom always kept her more stronger political opinions to herself. She remembered the frown she gave when she first announced she got a job at Yokota, a few months after high school, but after they sold the house and had to find something cheaper anything was–

 

The sun was already beginning to set, and the approaching rainstorm only made her surroundings darker. The first crackle of lightning broke across the sweet summer sky, briefly illuminating her world. Azusa rubbed her eyes and yawned. God, she was tired. She had been at work since almost six in the morning and couldn’t wait to go to sleep, taking in an extra shift for another girl who called off the day before. Something about no babysitter. Having kids was never a thought that crossed her mind, what with all of her “big plans” in life and having a baby bump offered no favors especially as a single woman. Azusa Tamura was going to be a mangaka, selling her own original literature, her name up in lights and becoming the next Naoko Takeuchi. She adored her success story; hell, she even met her once at a Comiket in cosplay and tried to pick her brain for tips on making it big before the security asked her to move along in the autograph line. Naoko was a poor girl like her, no friends and nothing really going for her in life until she hit it big with Sailor Moon. Azusa’s mom and subsequent dad could never understand the appeal of anime, but Azusa knew better. This was not their generation, it was beyond their grasp. This was the new Japan, where fortunes were gained and legends were made if you were careful.

 

As the first raindrops began to drip down the shelter she felt her spirits rise sharply as the bus finally by the grace of God turned the corner and began to rumble up to her stop. She leaned over to collect her belongings, a fraying cotton-mesh backpack and her hand-me-down purse from Momma. She stood under the shelter and gently waved to the driver but felt a wave of confusion as she could see soldiers standing shoulder-to-shoulder, crowding the seats and walkway of the bus…

 

…which merrily passed her up.

 

“Hey!” she shouted as the driver didn’t even glance at her. “ Heeeey!

 

She cursed, picked up a rock from the gravel walkway and chucked it at the passing bus, donking off the tail-light. “ Kuso yarō! ” she cursed over the roar of the engine, the gravel dust kicking up in her face. “ Bitchi yarō!

 

The bus did not yield, leaving her standing alone with her curses. 

 

She slung her backpack off her shoulder and hurled it at the wood bench. She began to stomp on the ground and balled her hands into shaking fists at her side, just like she did when she was a child, tears threatening to flow. The gravel spun up around her as she kicked the ground, her black no-slip shoes getting chalky dirt stains all over them. 

 

What was she gonna do now?

 

She did a pace across the asphalt road (no cars in sight) and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to calm herself down. The bus in theory ran every twenty five minutes, and this one was already ten minutes late. By the time the next one showed up the storm would be here by now, and she’d be soaked. Then catch the bus over to the train terminal, and from there take the train to their rinkydink apartment where her mom would undoubtedly ask where she was and she’d have to–

 

From the corner of her eye, lying in the grass-mud ditch was a figure she hadn’t noticed before on the walk up here. In the growing darkness, it became apparent under the artificial glow of the streetlamp. It appeared to be some sort of dying pig or other equine, face down in the muck. It lulled her out of her anger as she cautiously stepped away from the shelter and approached the figure.

 

Not a dying horse, but a man. A large one, at that, his backside to Azusa. Faded dark blue jeans, a tasseled white-red striped button up, messy hair, hairy arms and a nice-looking silver watch. Her heart twinged.

 

“S-sumimasen?” Azusa cautiously spoke. “Anata wa daijōbu?”

 

The figure said nothing, it’s heavy chest rising and falling with labored breath. It farted. 

 

Azusa, at the risk of falling into the ditch with the man, slowly stepped down and poked the man on the back. “Sir, helloooo? Are you…hello?”

 

She peered her head to try and get a look at the face. Nice jawline, with thick black glasses. With some resistance she was able to turn the man slightly over onto his arm then onto his back. Very handsome, with stubble and thick eyebrows. He looked like a little baby in sleep, his tense features relaxed in slumber. She dug around in his undershirt and unveiled a wallet with an ID card. Gerald Xavier Harding, it read, of the United States Army Corp of Engineers. Wow. She recognized the address as a local one, although shouldn’t he be living somewhere on one of the bases? And why on Earth was he here and not in a hospital sobering up? Six foot two height, 253 pounds, blood type O. Several hundred dollars in cash in the wallet, and a few bank and business cards mixed in. She pocketed some of the bills outright, folding them into her bra before stuffing the wallet back into his muddied up shirt. 

 

A drunk yank. 

 

She paused, trying to think of her next move. She glanced up uncertainly as the thunderstorm rumbled, another lightning strike crackling against the sky. The gears in Azusa Tamura’s head began to turn. Behind her next to the bus stop was a scratched up payphone, protected by a plastic bubble overhang. Stepping up out of the grass ditch, she walked up to the phone and dug for some change and punched in a number, waiting for the ring. Finally it clicked.

 

“Hello?”, a girl's voice answered. 

 

“Hey, it’s me.” She glanced back at the figure in the ditch then down at the phone. “I need your help with something. Your car is out of the shop, right?”

 

Edogawa, Japan

 

Eighteen Years Later

 

Kannana-Dori Road, as it was known by, was a straight-length multi-lane asphalt road that more or less ran uninterrupted from south to north through Edogawa proper for some thirty miles, with numerous access roads leading to it and boxy mid-size concrete buildings lining its length. It ran straight through our town and, because of its relative proximity to home and because you could merge onto it from the freeways coming in from Tokyo, I found myself using it a lot to get around town and when I go on driving trips into the metro. At eleven o’clock on a Wednesday night, right after my movie date with Natsuki after the club meet, it was pretty much deserted save for a few taxis and late night commuters like ourselves. 

 

As we pulled up to the red light I allowed myself to stretch. The movie was boring, some schlocky romance thing, but Natsuki insisted on us going because one of her other girlfriends (not from the Literature Club) wanted to double date with us. I had never met the couple but they were alright, and as I surveyed the audience it seemed everyone else was a couple too. We curled up in the seats, me pulling up our divider and our fingers played with each other under the blankets and I tried to pay attention. It was a movie about this teenager who gets a job at a gas station in the middle of nowhere and he's trying to impress some girl at his school because well he has to and…I don’t know. I stopped paying attention when Natsuki whispered to meet her in the bathroom around the forty five minute mark, where we made out pretty heavily and just wandered around the arcade until the movie ended. All in all, great film and I’d go see it again. 

 

Natsuki was scrolling away at her phone as I flicked through the radio stations. Because the stars happened to align, she was actually gonna spend the night at my place because my parents were out of town and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow afternoon. The opportunity was ripe, but of course neither of us were thinking about sex. I wasn’t in a rush for it and Natsuki wasn’t loose, but it was a good time for us to catch up on some anime we wanted to binge together and gorge on the snack pile I had built up just for this sacred occasion. Honestly, I couldn’t be asking for a better–

 

From across the lane a horn honked. 

 

Oi!

 

Natsuki and I glanced up. A cherry red sleek looking car, not a sedan but not a slouch either, was idling next to us, the window rolled down. I clicked on the automatic window and called out, “What?”

 

“Nice car.”

 

My eyebrows furrowed. “Thanks.”

 

The driver, with blonde tipped hair who looked like another high school student but definitely not from Yamaku, took notice of Natsuki. He propped himself up over the window frame and called out, “Heyyy, sweet thang. What’s your name?”

 

“Natsuki,” she said flatly. 

 

“Ooooh, that’s pretty.” He nodded, his face glowing under his neon LED setup. “What you doing riding with a loser like him? You need a ride home?”

 

“You wanna come out of the car and speak up, slick?” my voice turning gravely. I held my hand up to my ear. “I j-I’m having, having some trouble hearing you is all.”

 

“Hey, Lover Boy,” he said, addressing me now. “Suppose we race that little shitbox of yours, winner takes your girl out on a date? My treat. Whaddya say?”

 

“I say go suck a railroad spike.”

 

Natsuki folded her arms across her chest and leaned back slightly. At the corner of her lips a small smile tugged, the tip of her fang sticking out. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re just not fast enough for him, Kazuma.” She shrugged. “That’s all.”

 

For a moment I was silent. I glanced over at this punk ass nobody, and then back down at Natsuki. Across the intersection I could see the crosswalk slowly counting down; ten, nine, eight…leaning over slightly, I yanked up on the strap of her belt, squeezing it against her lap. 

 

Tighten your seatbelt ,” I growled. 

 

I slipped the car in park and dropped my foot against the accelerator. The car roared to life, the engines screaming as the frame of the car rattled and shook. Under the glow of the streetlamp, I could see Natsuki’s eyes widen slightly but that sly smile was growing across her face. 

 

“Oooh, Kah-zu- maaah ,” she purred. “Who would’ve guessed you had such a–”

 

The light turned green. I slipped the car back into gear and felt us literally lurch forward against our seats, racing across the asphalt and down the road. The cherry red car followed suit.

 

My fingers flexed against the wheel. “Hang onto something.”

 

My car revved hard as it began to accelerate; thirty, forty, fifty miles an hour as our cars climbed up the access ramp. My eyes flickered between the windshield and over at my rival, strain showing up on his face under his cheap rainbow lights. As the cars soared over the ramp now the entire town of Edogawa with its twinkling yellow-white lights was visible, serene but smearing against the backdrop of the inky black sky. From out the windows I could hear the punks car rev the same, as he angled and swooped behind me before pulling out in front again. 

 

Natsuki began to look uneasy, clapping her hands together as she gripped the seat. “Easy now.”

 

“Whassat? Not fast enough for ya?”

 

I popped the car into the next gear and shook my foot against the accelerator, hearing the engines whine and whine again. I turned hard against the wheel, narrowly clipping the back of the other car. I grinned, flashing my teeth as the adrenaline pumped through me like a locomotive. Holy shit, am I actually doing this right now? 

 

Natsuki leaned forward and cranked up the radio, the sound blasting through our open windows as the air flapped against our hair. “Wooooo- hoooooo! ”, she hollered as she punched the air. 

 

The ramp climbed back down to street level as our cars came neck and neck, but I was still pulling out. The light was turning yellow. Natsuki giggled and pointed, “Faster, faster! Light’s turning red!”

 

I looked up in the rear view and saw the guy had slowed, dropping back about a hundred feet. Forfeiture. I took the moment and revved right through the red, searing past the cars at the crosswalk. I began to hoot and slapped the wheel to the beat. “Hot fucking daaamn, man!”

 

My high ended just as the police lights flickered on. Natsuki almost broke her neck craning to look behind her, the red-blue sirens flashing against her face. “Aw, fuck! Fuckfuck fuck! ” She leaped forward and pressed both her hands against my knee, back down onto the accelerator. “ Whatareyoufuckingwaitingon, GOOOOO!

 

I didn’t stop for directions. Popping back into gear again, my car revved as it turned onto one of the smaller access roads splitting away, the lone cop car in hot pursuit. My fingers slipped with sweat as I barreled through one of the smaller streets leading into Edogawa, coming closer to home. I swerved around a commuter bus narrowly missing it by a couple of feet as I turned to the left down one street, then to the right up another. 

 

Life in the fast lane, I groaned to myself. 

 

The cop car idled somewhat as it tried to maneuver around a minivan. I took this gap in speed and turned hard into a residential street, turning all the lights off. Pulling into an empty driveway for some three story house, I ripped the keys out of ignition and pulled Natsuki out of view, leaning on top of her. I could hear the whoosh of the police car as it revved by not even a few seconds later, in pursuit of the phantom car. 

 

For about a minute, just our hot gasping breaths could be heard. Then we slowly raised ourselves up, pushing away and clutching our chests for air. I looked over at Natsuki, breathed out, “You good?”

 

Natsuki glowered at me and slapped me somewhat hard against the cheek. I opened my mouth to grimace but she closed the gap with a tight kiss, holding me there against the thick of my shirt. She broke it off. 

 

“If you ever do some shit like that to impress me again, I’ll fucking kill you.”

 

 

Author’s Note: Them Tamura girls sure are a feisty bunch, eh? Happy Valentines, everyone! Whether you’re single or partnered I hope things are going great for you all. I had been debating how to continue this story for a while as I used to think it would be a pretty linear ending but as I’ve been pingponging story ideas around I realized there’s the potential to do a lot more than a simple ending that I had in mind. Would anyone be interested in a revival of the mod? Sound off in the reviews. As always, thanks for reading and stay tuned for the next chapter of Love and Literature!

Chapter 31: My Oki Doki Heart

Chapter Text

The piercing chirps of my alarm clock greet me to a rude but routine awakening. Groggily, I run my hands across my nightstand in search of the clock. I grab it and squint through the darkness as I try to read the dial.

7:01am. Monday.

I sigh, and toss my blankets aside as I prop myself up on the bed. I get up and start to stretch in the still darkness of my room, the blinds turned closed. I reach for the nightstand and grab my phone off its hook, scrolling through the notifications that had built up overnight. Endless texts from people I both did and did not know, some missed calls and a lot of local news blurbs.

I ignore them all and tap away to my playlist, pulling up one of my favorites. Soon an upbeat but smooth piece fills my ears as I stumble into my small connecting bathroom. I start to undress as I begin screwing with the shower nozzles, still glaring through the sand in my eyes. I step in and take a labored moment to let the hot water rush over me, streaming down my body as I try to gain my thoughts for the nightmare ahead. The swollen puke-green and purple bruises that mark up and down my arms, my neck, and my face at first ache with the pressure of the stream but soon start to relax with the heat. I sigh, popping my fingers as I try to let the shower wash my woes away. A brand new day, it's a brand new day, today is the start of a brand new–

But there's a knock at the door.

"Kazuma?"

"Yeah, Dad?"

"Are you taking a shower?"

"...Yes?"

"Okay, just checking…sorry."

And the sound of footsteps departing and my door closing.

I groan. Putting my hand to the tile of the shower, I thud my forehead over and over as the tension of another migraine threatens to spike through my temples already. It's nothing compared to the living nightmare that has refused to die over these past three days.

My life as I knew it really is over, huh? This is the new normal, this walking on eggshells.

It truly kicked off the night I came home from the police station. Once my interrogation ended I was put in the empty cell while the entire world outside seemed to just fall away, the monotonous march of time with no end, no clock or watch or anything to measure it. I don't know how long it took, but the police eventually pulled me and my grief-stricken parents into that same room and explained what our…situation looked like. I was not being charged with anything, to my muted shock, not assault or trespassing or accessory to whatever. At the very least, the officers opted not to press charges against me because their logic was 1) they did not consider me an instigator to the situation and 2) I had not committed a criminal action in their eyes, or at the very least they opted for leniency despite the circumstances. Surprisingly, nobody had said anything about the busted state of my car, which as far as I know is still parked across from Natsuki's house waiting for me, or the I assume several neighborhood traffic cams catching me speeding through the streets running reds that night. At least, they hadn't mentioned it and I certainly wasn't gonna snitch on myself. The officers' tones struck me as sympathetic, genuine, and I couldn't detect any air of condescension. It was something of a relief until the other shoe dropped.

With respect to Natsuki, they had nothing to offer. She will remain in custody as the investigation continues. There is no specific timeline on when she could or would be released. The situation is very fluid and has the opportunity to change for the better or worse. There would be plenty of opportunities to talk to the suspect in due time. The eldest in the room, the stern-faced Officer Hamada, repeated the obvious that a very serious crime had been committed and it was only the job of the National Police Agency to investigate the facts and reveal the truth. I found myself impressed by his bluntness, and soon I was handed me a piece of paper with seemingly random phone numbers I could call for case updates and assistance related to the inevitable legal fight to come, among those the office that handled inmate messages. I had called I don't know how many different times over the weekend and could not once meet my goal of talking to Nats; I always got the automated line first, usually leading to a voicemail, and the one actual human being who answered simply said to call back later and hung up. To my astonishment, the officers had explained a person in custody could remain as long as twenty three days in lockup before a decision on release or indictment could be made.

I remember my jaw dropping a little when that was made known, the officers pointing out the bulletins on their neat little pamphlet detailing the legal process for a person in custody. Over three weeks just to sit around and pray that nobody forgets you in there? What the fuck!

In the shower I swiped for the conditioner, squeezed a dollop into my palm and dug my fingers into my hair. My scalp spiked with the pain from me obsessively tugging at it for the past two days but I didn't care.

Once that circus was over, I had to come home and face my parents alone. After I got my belongings back and made a tearful but brief reunion/goodbye to the Literature Club (who I had to beg to go home as it was already pushing midnight by the time I was released and to their undying credit they spent the entire time waiting in the lobby), my parents and I just awkwardly hugged outside and we silently got into their car and went back home. In the extremely loud hours-long living room argument with my parents still wearing their party attire, they told me the event pretty much got put on pause and later on fizzled out after the true scope of what happened with me and my girlfriend got out. It was ugly, really ugly, the worst argument I've ever had with them. The theme of the shouting was "how could you do this to us?" and screaming about the embarrassment at the party before I reality-checked them with the fact I just witnessed a man have his fucking head blown off and land on top of me. They stopped with the self-victimizing really quick, but there's a big part of me that has to reckon with their understanding of their situation, to try and see things from their point of view. This is just as bad if not worse on them than it is on me, the fact their only son had to go through any of this.

Then the argument gearshifted to Natsuki. Both of them wanted me to cut off contact with her, absolutely, arguing about the long-term impact to my schooling and my career in being associated with someone who "most certainly will never leave that jail cell" according to my all-seeing deity of a Mother. My father was not as absolute in that, but agreed with the sentiment. How could it be that just half a day ago he was all ears and ready to bring her to meet the family and I have to re-negotiate her standing in my life now? Every second I felt myself fighting a losing battle, my voice shaking and threatening to crack. Again, endless eons of more reasoning and shouting at them, stressing my genuine love and admiration for her and saying that I would never, never leave her side. I can't. Even if I had a single bone in my body that wanted to, how could I do that to her? After everything we had been through; dates, confessions, slow dancing in the dark and now this unimaginable evil crashing down all around us…to just abandon her in the thick of it?

Never. I simply cannot and will not. I have to fight for her.

There was a relief that washed over me again and again that despite the anxiety of the argument that they weren't explicitly forbidding me from seeing or contacting her, but just really really really hoping I wouldn't. Neither one had made that implication, so at least that's some kind of victory there. Things could be worse; I wasn't being thrown out on the street, or disowned for the great shame I brought to the Odaka name, or being beaten, and they both knew that I was going to bat for her. Finally, after a lot of crying and hugging some more, our tired eyes went to bed. Collapsing buildings, crashing waves and shrill screaming dominated my sleep.

But at least Mom and Dad are on my side. For now.

The Saturday morning that followed I was able to sleep right through the day, and in that time once all the news stations serving the greater Tokyo metropolitan got wind of this so-called crime of the century, it was just a trickle that turned into a downpour of text messages and phone calls from just about everybody I had ever passed by in the hallways of Yamaku, relatives, friends of relatives. Somehow, someway people put two and two together. Pretty much all of them were more-or-less strangers–well, not entirely true, there was Toji and a few other friends I still kept in touch with. There were my aunts and uncles and cousins from the party. I knew them at least. All the local agencies and soon the nationwide ones were to my absolute horror showing Natsuki's full name, her mugshot and even revealing that she went to Yamaku! I couldn't believe it; isn't that some sort of breach of privacy? Although it was doing more harm than good, I had been obsessively watching the news and trying to get ahead of whatever lies they would spin about us. To my surprise, everybody was running Natsuki's name (and it was how I learned she actually had a middle name) in the headlines but nobody had ever mentioned a Kazuma Odaka at all, only referring to me as "the boyfriend" or in the national stories not even mentioning me at all, just Natsuki and her father; Gerald Xavier Tamura. I don't know why, since we're all eighteen now. The legal protection of releasing the names of minors doesn't apply to me any more than it does to Nats. I'm chalking it up to the fact I wasn't charged with anything and therefore aren't too important in the story.

Ironic.

Perhaps I'm not as up-to-date on my country's politics as I should be, but the very idea of someone using a firearm to kill another in such a gorey fashion is truly unheard of in modern Japan. It simply does not happen, at least not in such a public fashion. Serial killers don't exist anymore, those boogeymans and mystery capers are exposed easily in the light of technology. Over the weekend as my mind was hurding at a million miles an hour over a billion different thoughts, I struggled to think of how guns were mentioned in my life before this. It barely gets taught in school, more as reference during wars or law enforcement, and I've never even held one before. Firearms are legal but quite rare for private ownership. The only people I've ever seen with guns would be the police or army soldiers, and even then I can't remember the last time I had actually seen one in person, at a function or in a parade…or maybe this unfolding trauma of mine is ruining my memory already.

I looked down at my hands. Thick strands of my black hair, both short and long, were tangled in my fingers and coiling up in my palms. Through the steam of the shower I breathed hard and rubbed my hand across my face, wiping away the sweat.

Ruining my memory, among other things.

With a wet brush the morning began to smear and blot into the afternoon. It started with slugging through a muted breakfast with my parents, then a quiet walk to Yamaku with Sayori (who greeted me with sobs and a bear hug outside my front yard, which only caused me to get misty-eyed). Then getting to campus and forcing a blank expression for the walk down the halls to get to first period. The swelling in my face from the fistfight had relaxed somewhat over the weekend, but a long bandage where a cut from a big chunk of glass had stretched from my chin to an inch under my left eye was obvious to anyone who looked my way that I got into it with someone. My tongue awkwardly felt and pushed around on the recent filling for the chipped front tooth I got during the fight, getting it done just yesterday after collecting myself enough to go to a clinic. My eyes felt heavy, drooping, and I tried to ignore the stares of girls and guys alike as I gripped the strap of my bag and stayed mum through the morning.

Lunch couldn't get here fast enough.

Mr. Takeshi Kido, my teacher for Theory of Knowledge class, was droning on in his usual sharp-tongued demeanor. Thankfully he wasn't in the mood of picking on students at will for pop quizzes today and seemed to be just rattling off a lecture from the top of his head while we transcribed. "...And I hope that one of the things you can take away from this class is that you learn to observe interactions you deal with, no matter who it might be; a stranger on the train, your best friend, your parents, and know that life is about taking the best of what others offer and…"

I looked down at my notebook. My handwriting was sloppier than usual, but had been able to scribble down…something, I'm not too sure on what exactly. It looked like notes, whatever it was Kido was rambling about. I can't even remember really writing them. On the sides of the notes were random doodles of boxes, shapes and a poor attempt to draw the Tokyo Tower which looked more like a pyramid with spikes on it than the real life thing. I scratched it out with my pen and flipped to a fresh page.

"...As we were talking about in the last class, does morality truly have a definition?" Kido paused by his desk for dramatic effect, took a chalk and turned to write on the blackboard. "Is it moral to abandon a child on a doorstep one night when the mother knows they cannot care for them, not knowing if they've potentially doomed them to a life of squalor with the person who volunteers to care for them or perhaps saving them from it?" He continued scribbling with chalk to make a diagram, "Life can be defined by your heredity plus your environment; it is the world around you that defines your own personal definition of morality, and moral choices…"

I rolled my eyes to myself and tapped the tip of my pen against the page, making little ink marks. Per Monika from the group chat, there was still going to be a Literature Club meeting (but of course we all knew we wouldn't be doing any reading) as scheduled but that wouldn't be until Wednesday. Sayori wanted to get together after school but the details were fuzzy, since Yuri implied she would be busy later. I glanced out the window, watching puffy white clouds roll across the clean blue skies surrounding Edogawa, and suddenly the wisps of a poem came into focus. What a beautiful day. I scribbled at the top of the page,

Dreams of Love and Literature

I looked over at the clock hanging in the front of class; ten minutes 'till we leave. Plenty of time to write a draft. I returned to the paper.

The sun rises up with glee

As sure as one can dream

Of snow-capped peaks or the scent of greens

I paused…of snow-capped peaks or the scent of greens? Or dreams? No, the scent of sweets. Sweet like candy or those taffies Sayori likes to get at the grocery near Yamaku on the walk back home. Plus it kinda rhymes. I crossed out 'greens' and wrote sweets next to the scribble.

Of snow-capped peaks or the scent of sweets

Dreaming of ourselves in the distant future

With our hands entwined in eternal embrace

Ready to face the world which hastes

Our rush to grow up

Another pause. That last line is too abrupt. Our rush to…rush to…hmm. I moved my pen down to the next line, drew an X and rewrote,

Our hands laced despite the haste

Of others demanding we get a taste

Of the world they call adulthood

Eh, that's a little better. Again, a poem is supposed to rhyme, isn't it?

But in the meadow we trip and scrape

As we rush to the lake to drink from its wake

We pluck fruit along the stream

And drink up its sweet sweet dreams

Okay, maybe not that much rhyme. The pen dries up, and I dab the end of the tip with my tongue to scribble a hasty finale.

Those dreams of love and literature

The bell rings and the room explodes with activity. I hastily put my notes into my back and beeline for the door. There's an uncomfortable tension swirling around me; people staring again? I don't know cause I don't stop 'till I'm at the end of the hallway. The dining hall is still a ways away, so I slow my speed and take a breath.

Lunch. What do they serve you when you're in jail? At least the basics, I hope. Rice and meat or some sort of soup. Maybe some smelly canned meat, or hell they just give you ramen without the water to cook it. At the very least something edible. When I was in there the cell seemed clean enough, I was given a baggy pair of clothes to change out of my blood-soaked tux for their evidence bins but the T-shirt and shorts were at least washed. I…what did I eat when I was kept in there? I only remember sipping water.

The crowd surges as I near the wide glass swinging doors of the cafeteria. The grandest of the clouds had offered a sprinkle of rain to dust the air and the smell of dew grew thick as it collaborated with the blooming fauna. Spring had sprung and everything was looking extra colorful, green trees with blurbs of reds and yellow flowers. I rub my temple and groan. Despite the nice weather, my headaches' coming back and I dig into my inner pocket for a tiny aspirin bottle. This entire weekend was a strange headache; I feel like I'm among the living dead. It still seems so unreal to me that only a week ago we had our usual club meeting, our lives as normal as it could get, laughing and hanging out together, and now it was just…j–one of our best friends might be going to prison for murder. It doesn't make any sense! How can this be happening to us! Was Natsuki going to have to drop out now? What about her career, her future? Was she going to be gone for life!? What about our plans, everyone's plans together!?

I had barely eaten anything over the weekend, the roaring stomach sickness assured that. None of this feels real. Where do we go from here, us together? I love her, I really do…but the question is, how are we going to get out of this mess we're in? By fighting, obviously. Japan has a legal system, a justice system. Innocent until proven guilty, right? Or so it is said.

I stepped into the dining hall and looked around. The banners hanging from the ceiling had been changed for the spring season, opting for intricate and lush paintings of oceans and clouds with blossoming petals and the like. With rays of sunshine gleaming through the sprinkling rain onto the long rows of tables and booths, it gave the hall a serene but harmonic glow. I slowly shifted over to the soup counter and ladled some miso into a bowl, garnishing it with onions and coriander. I grabbed a tea, two bread rolls and quickly checked out as a ripple of pain constricted in my temple. If the aspirin was planning on working, it was taking its sweet ass time.

Slowly I started up the steps to the second floor balcony, where Natsuki would either be waiting or following me up the stairs. Except today she's not.

Just me.

Certainly for someone who is only a year off from graduating high school, there is a way to get your diploma while being imprisoned. Some youth advocacy group I've yet to hear of will say that she has to continue her education at the least, if she proves she wants to (which if she wants to be a mangaka she has to at least finish basic schooling). Maybe some kinda half-cell/half-classroom thing; mornings with lessons and nights in lockup. Or would she even go to prison? Maybe because of her age she'd be in some sort of special confinement for youth inmates. The gangbangers and thieves and offenders and just yeeesh. Natsuki was nothing like those lowlifes.

I shuddered a little, my fingers holding the tray. We shouldn't even be thinking about these what-ifs. Natsuki should be right here scarfing down a bento box with me, not miserable and alone in a six by six cell. Her father was the fucking criminal, the abuser, the deviant. What was her crime? Self-defense? Above that, defending me? I was as good as dead before she intervened, I was out-for-the-count and he was gonna bash my head in like I was rabid.

The second floor balcony was surprisingly empty, but not a lot of students had gotten through with the lunch line yet; the tables would fill up soon. I sat down at our usual spot, near the corner of the balcony overlooking the hall below and set my bag on the table. I dug through my papers before I pulled out a small book; The Parfait Girls, Volume 7. Natsuki had the collectors set I got her for Christmas and I adopted her old copies, so recently we had decided to reread from the beginning together to see if it still held up (it did).

I cracked it open and set it next to the tray, but before I started to read a voice coughed behind me. "Hey."

I glanced back. There stood Yoshi Tadashi a foot or so away from me, with a warm smile and his lunch bag in one hand. With his other hand he had his blazer slung over his shoulder, finger holding it by the tag.

"You, uh, mind if I eat with you?"

I shuffled a little bit and gestured to the seat across from me. "Sure."

He nodded and set his stuff down at the seat, sighing as he did. "Thanks. Man, today has just been so annoying."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I have this group project for Kido's class next period and I've kind of been tripping about it. I don't know why I volunteered to be the public speaker, I suck at it."

"Ah."

"But Sayori's been helping me practice with it, so hopefully I can just manage to not screw it up. You know how much Kido scrutinizes the little shit."

I took a spoonful of the miso soup, swishing it around a little. It was more on the salty side. "Yeah."

Yoshi glanced at me for a moment and started to unpack his lunch, an impressive big bento box complete with shrimp, steamed rice, what looked like brussel sprouts with steamed cabbage, a dab of wasabi and some other tasty bits. A bottle of iced water and some chocolate wafer cookies as dessert. I continued to sip the soup and break little bits of the bread off, not really saying anything. I picked up the Parfait Girls and thumbed to where I last stopped. Yoshi opened his chopsticks and started to eat, chewing slowly and scrolling at his phone.

We didn't say nothing for a few minutes. Some more students came up the stairs to sit, mostly in pairs. There was a pause before he spoke again, setting his phone down on the table. "So listen," he coughed, "now that I got you here, there's something I was wanting to talk to you about."

I glanced up from the manga. "Yeah?"

"It uh," he pushed on his glasses with his free finger. "It's nothing bad. I was just…well, I guess we don't really know each other that well and I was kind of hoping we could change that. Be better friends."

"Hmm," I sounded hesitant even though I didn't mean to. "I mean, yeah. Since you're with Sayori maybe one of these days we could double–"

A streak of pain flashed across Yoshi's face as I caught myself in my words. My train of thought imploded. "I–, I mean…yeah, man. Sure."

Yoshi rubbed his thumb against his cheek before he continued. "She talks about you, y'know."

"Who?"

"Sayori."

Oh God, he's not gonna tell me she admitted last night she's actually in love with me or something right? That is juuust what I need right now. "Oh."

"I mean, you literally saved her. You got her out of a horrible spot in her life, and she'll talk about how much you mean to her as a friend. And a lot of guys would see that as a red flag, or get jealous, but I know you two go way back so it doesn't bug me. I'm not here to complain or anything like that, that's not why…I'm here."

I just nodded, and took another sip of my soup. "So what's up."

"Well, I heard about what happened to Natsuki."

I didn't say anything. This dead sinking weight I've been carrying over the weekend pushed down onto my spine.

"I mean, I'm sure everyone has. It's all over the news. I can't say I ever knew her, but I know that she's your girlfriend and all. From the Literature Club. I think we spoke once at the Festival, but I don't really remember."

"Mm." I swirled the soup around with the spoon, staring into the broth.

"I'm sure you've heard it a billion times already, but I hope you know that this isn't the end of the world. There's a way to get out of this, and…people give a shit about you, y'know? They don't want to see you get destroyed or do something to yourself, Sayori maybe most of all. And…y'know, if you ever need someone to vent to or you just wanna hang my line's always open. We could play games or something, if you ever wanna reach out."

The dead weight lifted just a few inches up. I felt a small smile tug on my lip. "Hey…thanks, Yoshi. That, uh, that means a lot."

"Alright. I'm not tryna sound like some guidance counselor or anything, it's just…for what you did for Sayori, just know you're not in this alone. I'm so sorry for the shit you're going through, man. I can't imagine."

I looked up at Yoshi. That ugly scowl on Natsuki's fathers face right before he threw me across the room flashes against his features, stabbing my vision like red-hot spears. I blink hard and my voice drops, wounded. "Yeah. Wasn't fun." I swirl the broth around with my spoon, hearing the metal clink against the bowl. Clink clink clink.

Yoshi grunts in reply and just resumes eating, back to looking at his phone. Just as I'm about to go back to reading my own phone starts to ring. I swipe it open and it shows it's from an unknown caller with no number shown. I stare at the blank contact pic for a moment, then swipe to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hi!", an automated computer voice greets. "This message will be monitored and recorded. You are receiving a call from the Edogawa Police Department from an inmate within their jail system. The inmate's name is–"

For the first time in four days, her voice rattled in my ear. "natsuki tamura."

"To accept this call, say 'yes' or press one. To decline, simply hang up."

I huffed. "Y-yes! Yes." I pushed on the keypad and looked over at Yoshi. "It's her," I held up my screen as if to verify it was actually happening, "She's calling me from the jail."

He seemed surprised. "Oh, wow. That's, wow." He quickly picked up his bento box and started to collect his stuff. "I'll, I'll give you some privacy. Later, dude."

I gave a wave goodbye. "See ya." My mind was racing and the headache seemed to evaporate with this turn of events. I had tried calling again this morning on the walk to Yamaku, and was only able to pass along the message to some clerk that I was trying to get ahold of her. Now it was really happening. The call dropped to a dial tone, and briefly hold music played before the call clicked. I heard what sounded like scratching fabric on the other line.

"-No, fuck you." A female voice growled before her attention turned to the phone. "Um, Kazuma? Is that you, hun?"

I gasped, cupping my mouth with my hand so my voice wouldn't travel. "Yeah, Nats. Oh, oh I miss you so much baby."

"I miss you too," her voice ached. "How are you healing? Your bruises?"

"Don't worry about me, I'm fine. I'm at school, Monika, Sayori, everyone's here. Tell me what's going on with you. Have you eaten?"

I heard what sounded like a shout, muffled through the speaker. "I'll make it quick, they're only giving me like two minutes for this call apparently. These motherfuckers haven't let me contact anyone all weekend. They keep making up this, 'ooh the lines are down, ooh someone using it, ooh you'll use it in a minute' just nonstop nonsense to keep me off the phone. Bunch of rat liars. Now that it's Monday, I guess they can't keep hiding me."

"I had no idea, I've been trying to call that station we were sent to all weekend. Your face is all over the news."

"You're kidding."

"I wish I was."

More scratching. "I saw myself on the TV in the lobby, just briefly when I was getting moved to somewhere bigger. I have a roommate now, haha."

"Oh, that's…", my voice dragged. "Nice?"

"Honestly it's fine. She's twenty, goes to college, she got arrested for shoplifting and some other little stuff. Nothing like these scum and drunks in the other cells. She's really sweet. I could've been stuck with some perv, but we've just been braiding each other's hair and trying to kill time. I told her my story and she told me hers. We're having as much fun as you can when you're…you know, in jail."

I laughed nervously. "Yeah, right? But, um, has anyone said what's gonna happen to you? If you're being moved again, or, what?"

I hear her sigh. "No, nothing. It's been the same shit for the past two days; they prod me awake, they give me my meal, I get interrogated for hours and hours, they stick me back in the cell. Lather, rinse and repeat. It's just, they're really trying to get me to confess to all this shit."

"Ah, aw y–" I get up from my seat and start to do an awkward pace, standing by the railing to the balcony. "I'm so sorry."

"It's what I deserve."

"What? No no no, Nats."

Her voice creaks. "I got you hurt. I fucked up e-everyth…" I hear her gasping hard.

"Nooo, no. Baby. Hey." I try to reassure but I j-just, God, we shouldn't be having to bear this burden. She did the right thing and she's being punished. She should be here reading with me, not locked up in a fucking–

"I'm sorry," she sniffles. "I can't cry. They're gonna…tell me to stop crying, Kazuma."

"For my sake, please stop crying."

There's a long pause. I hear her breathing relax a little as she tries to collect herself. "Hhh…o-okay. I'm…I'm good. I'm okay."

"I will see you soon, my love. I'm trying to figure out how. They're making it so fucking difficult to."

"Someone had mentioned you have to make an appointment for that. I really don't know. Just hearing your voice again is all I need."

I look out across the dining hall. A smile spreads across my face, but it's undersold by the biting fear in my mind. "Just be safe. Be safe, please. We're all fighting for you out here, please don't give up hope."

The call clicks abruptly. I looked down at my phone to see only my lockscreen, with Natsuki holding up a peace sign and grinning from ear to ear. The call lasted exactly two minutes.

Author's Note: Hey everybody! The last chapter might've been confusing for some people; the bit with Natsuki's mother is a flashback to her youth in 1998, and the drag race chapter with Kazuma and Natsuki takes place about a month before the events of Chapter 27 (Natsuki killing her dad). Chapter One takes place around mid-September of 2017. The most recent series of events, the Kazuma/Dadsuki fight and Sayori passing out at the convention took place on a Friday and as of this new chapter, the current date is April 30th of 2018, the Monday following that weekend. As the story continues there will be flashbacks to certain important events in the past but I hope this clears the Love and Literature timeline up!

As always, thank you so much for reading and be sure to follow for updates! Long live the Literature Club!

Chapter 32: Broken Books

Chapter Text

"Natsu-keeeeey!"

I awoke on the floor.

"We have to goo-o-o-oh!"

There's a fire somewhere. I can feel it.

I clambered to my feet as the flames licked under the carpet, stinking pencil-thin trails of smoke seeping through the fabric. I rose up and immediately had to lower my head, the plumes of oily smoke rolling across the ceiling were too much.

Where the fuck am I?

"Sweetheeeart! Heeeey!"

K-Kazuma?

I squatted down and scanned the scenery around me, a place unfamiliar and eerie. Slim columns of white blistering light in the distance box me in like the sun glowing through gaps in a fence post. Desks and shelves and chairs were tossed and thrown around and on their sides, snaking scraps of twisted metal and sheetrock scattered all around. Behind me, a cavernous hallway leading into the unknown.

One of the desks was massive, a two-piece cherry oak thing several feet wide and it blocked the way. Stumbling, I gripped its side for balance and coughed hard. Papers strewn across the tops, I reached for one and then another to read nothing but code and scripture, indecipherable and vague. I shook my head and lowered myself to avoid being caught in the pungent clouds again.

"Come oooon! We have to get out!"

I drop to the floor but the carpet is growing hot to the touch. My fingers dig the fabric and come out greasy, like they've been dunked in motor oil. I shove my nose under my shirt, take a breath and shout, "Helloooo!?"

The voice calls out, "Where aaare yooo-o-ou!?"

It's him! I hobble-crawl under the smoke plumes and bite my shirt to keep it from slipping, coughing harder as I strain to stay clear of it. The hallway behind me seems safer than here but as I run towards them brilliant blue flames roar high above my head, from the stairs and elevators, so fiercely hot they force me back to the floor like I've been shoved.

"K-KAZUMAAAAH!", my voice shrieks in fear as the heat sears the tingling hair off my arms. I crawl and start to sob, mania overtaking me like a wild animal. My head spins as the hairs of my face singe from the heat. I'm going insane, aren't I? "KAZUMAAA–"

In the distance near the columns of light a figure trips against a bookshelf, tipping it over with a loud crash. My eyes struggle to focus on it, and when the sun strikes against the face I make out his tall figure…the Yamaku blazer…his black hair…

"HEY!"

I rise to my feet and stumble towards him as he saunters up to the windows, silent, stepping upright to grip the columns and sway back and forth on the heels of his shoes away from me. Ignoring me. I grab a chair for balance and stand up tall. As the hot tears streamed down my face I threw my fists to my sides, shut my eyes and screamed.

"DON'T LEAVE ME HEEERE!"

Between the twin towers, his figure slowly turned to face me. He stares at me for a moment only to smile, the rays of sunlight glinting through his neatly combed hair.

And he puts his hand out.

Gingerly I take a few steps forward, staring down at his silk white gloves and back up to him. He looks so stunning, the glow of the sun shining around him like an angel in descent.

"It's alright," Kazuma sighs. "Let's go."

My fingers are just touching his palm before he leaps forward, hot rage flashing in his eyes. He grabs me by the arm and throws me hard against him, smacking into his chest and forcing us out past the columns. For a second my eyes are blinded by a searing hot light, but focus on puffy blue-white clouds dreamily floating all around us for as far as I can see. It's heaven, it must be. We were in purgatory but we made it to the promised land, my love.

But it's a false paradise. In seconds we crash through the clouds and an entire cityscape flashes past my face. Firetrucks, police, ambulances all blaring and swirling on the streets below. Massive skyscrapers twist and loom around us like tributes to forgotten gods. I twist my body around to see not Kazuma but my father, bloodsoaked with sharp fangs swimming through the air to reach me as we plummet. My mouth is open to scream but it's lost to the crashing whistling wind. I desperately try to fight him off as he grips my body, tearing at my clothes, but I'm paralyzed by his power.

His fingers lock around my throat just as we hit the pavement.

"Girl, hey, it's okay! Suki! Wake up! Suki!"

I blink the burning tears from my eyes and struggle to come to my senses. From my nightmare a female figure greets me, tugging at my shoulder.

"Just a nightmare, darlin'. S'all it was, okay? You're here now."

Emi Ibarazaki is a Vogue model compared to me, even if we are locked up together. Even though she's been in here longer than I have, her sandy blonde hair somehow keeps a natural glow despite a lack of conditioner and a decent shower. Her skin has a soft and buttery complexion even though we don't get any lotions. As for me, I've been scratching myself in my sleep to the point of faint claw marks and my hairstyle of choice has begun to show its true brunette colors from a lack of upkeep. How does she even manage to stay pretty when we're stuck in the equivalent of a parking space together? Maybe it's genetic. Guess I struck out there.

She's an angel, though. Only two years older than me but somehow pulls off that sexy, mature confident look I could only dream of. Being trapped in here with her makes me realize how much I would've loved an older sister, or hell any kind of sibling. Is that a selfish thing to say? No…can't be. But then again, having a brother or sister would've just meant another soul would've had to endure that hideous creature's abuse. It's torment, it's scorn and daily disgust. I don't think it's selfish; I would've always had their back through it all. And the nights of hunger would've been slightly more endurable if there was someone to share the pain with…hah, yeah right. Protect them? I could barely protect myself. Or Kazuma, for that matter. And I basically destroyed his mental health in the process of unwinding my bullshit on him.

Oh, where your mind wanders when you're merging onto death row.

Emi takes a step back from being crouched down on her knees next to me, and stands up to stretch her long muscular legs out with a slight yawn. What time is it even? There's little moonlight from the outside window and the hallway outside is dimmed. They had moved us somewhere further in-house in this place, out from the temporary cell towards the lobby so it was even more disorienting to get any bearings or direction. I guess…it's around 2 or 3 in the morning. I remember we ate dinner, mild curry with rice, then shared life stories for a bit before dozing off. At least this cell is a smidge more hospitable (wouldn't call it an upgrade); actual thread blankets, a sink/toilet combo with an open shower that drains to the floor. White paint on gray blankets and chrome furnishings.

How dreadfully bleary, but liveable. For the time I have left.

Emi quickly strides to the sink and grabs a scratchy white hand towel off the ring. She gently dabs it under the stream and sits down next to me as the tingles of a headache re-emerge. She takes a moment to wipe the tears from my cheeks and then cleans my whole face, rubbing my eyebrows and gently combing my hair all the way back with her dainty fingers. The towel is kind of rough but the sensation is cooling and pleasant. With her one hand she's cleaning my face and the other is slowly circling the top of my back while she slowly makes soothing sounds, trying to calm me. Emi moves with a kind of elegance, a sophistication, and it didn't surprise me to learn she was actually a college athlete, a runner or some kind. That's what she wants to be in life, anyhow. Finish college quickly and become a youth coach for disabled kids.

She'll actually have a life once she gets out of here, I think to myself. I wonder what kind of jobs you can get in prison. Women's pastor? A fucking line cook? I should've turned that gun on myself afterward.

"Hey," she starts as she returns to the sink to re-rinse the rag. "Can I ask you something?"

I put a hand behind my head and lean against the cinderblock wall. "Sure, I got time." I flex my jaw and press my fingers hard against my temples, trying to crush out the headache.

She rolls her eyes slightly and turns away from me, back to the sink. "Do you, uh…" her hands dip under the stream. "Ever wonder about God?"

Ugh, here we go. How do I tactfully steer away from this topic? The stream turns off and there's only the sound of the water gurgling through the pipes. "I can't say that I do."

"Me either." She turns off the water and starts to ring out the rag. "Yuuch, but my moms' all about that though. After Daddy died she had this kind of…I guess you could call it epiphany. Bought a billion crosses and portraits and hung them up on every blank space in the house. And it was weird, considering she always used to joke about it before…mm."

Not only did we have some overlapping interests (Emi was not a fan of anime but she did enjoy the culinary arts like yours truly), we even had similar backstories. I had a Western father who lost an Asian mother, and she has a Western mother who lost an Asian father. I'm struggling to remember what she said exactly, but it was some kind of car accident in her childhood that took her father away. I'm still not sure what exactly drove my mother out, but it wasn't a tragedy. I wonder what she'd think about me right now.

She continues, "But, I don't know. She changed. One day she took all the crosses down and threw them in the trash. I remember coming outside to go for a jog, and seeing them in a plastic bag by the bins. I brought them inside and asked her, 'Mamma, why would you…'"

Her face strains, "I can stop talkin' if this is buggin' you."

Aw hell, it must be written on my face. "No!", I scramble," …no, it's, uh, something to talk about." She's not bothering me, she really isn't, but religion has never been a topic I'm good at discussing. If my father believed in a God he certainly never tried to instill those values in me. Maybe he thought he was a God of his own accord, with the shit he was involved with. With his veteran status in a submissive foreign land he must've felt like one. What's that old saying, Papa? The wheel always turns.

Emi smiles but seems to trail off for a moment before she recollects her thoughts. "Oh, uh…I asked her, why did you throw out the crosses? You bought them, I thought ya liked them. You know what she told me?"

"What?"

"That…", she smiles and shakes her head slightly. "She never needed them. She had a kind of self-realization that the goodness in people's hearts come from what they keep inside of them, not what they show to the world…", she frowns. "Well, she said it more nicer than that, anyway. But her point was, she thought that by having that stuff on every blank spot on the wall, she was proving that she was doing right by God. But what she was really showing was she wasn't even listening."

I was silent.

"That all that stuff people do, tattoos of the cross and necklaces and portraits, it doesn't matter. Divinity and humility have no features other than the person who carries them." She dabs part of the wet rag on her face and smiles again. "Yeah, that's how she said it."

She sits back on her bed across from me and sighs. "But the reason I brought it up was…well, I guess I was thinking about more than a God. I was wondering what you thought about fate."

I blink. "Fate?"

She shrugs. "Fate, destiny, divine providence. I mean, I can't say we would've ever met each other if we didn't end up in this cell like this. I was just visiting Edogawa with some friends when…ach, well you know."

Right. Five finger discounts. Well, we all sin differently. I commit acts of murder in my spare time personally.

"Mhm. But yet…here we are."

"Here we are." She lies down on her spread and tries to get comfortable. "Maybe there's God in us getting to meet like this. And all the stuff you've told me about yourself, the stuff with your dad and your boyfriend. I..I admire you, honestly."

"Why?"

"All these bad cards life dealt you, and you still manage to land on top of it all."

I think about that statement. I always thought I was a born survivor. Digging through dumpsters for food, odd ways to get money to keep appearances for clothes and things. Managing up until now to keep out of law enforcement's eye and not get carted away to a youth shelter or who knows what. If I could've pooled some more money together and had an accommodation ready, getting thrown out the way I did wouldn't have been as bad considering I would've been eligible for adult shelters. Staying with Kazuma or anybody else was out of the question. Can't afford to rely on anybody else. I just can't.

And that's the bad thing, isn't it? It's not normal to be so untrusting and unreliant on others. Kazuma, Sayori, Monika, Yuri…these are my closest friends. My only real friends. I would never want to burden them, but maybe if I had told someone about all of this before it happened I wouldn't be here right now. I don't think Kazuma would've said no to somehow me staying at his place or…I don't even, wh-what am I even saying? Like it even matters anymore. It doesn't fucking matter. This is my new home. It would be better if Kazuma just forgot about me anyway, for his own sanity and to keep his own image safe. It's tough getting a job when you're married to a murderer.

My head thuds against the wall, and I stare up at the ceiling as the migraine rocks my skull.

"It was either land in Heaven or fall to the pits of Hell."

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN,

BY ORDER OF THE NATIONAL POLICE AGENCY AND THE EDOGAWA PUBLIC HEALTH DEPARTMENT, THIS RESIDENCE HAS BEEN CLEARED AND CONDEMNED DUE TO IRREVOCABLE DAMAGES UNDER FEDERAL INVESTIGATION

ALL OCCUPANTS ARE HEREBY ORDERED TO VACATE PENDING DEMOLITION OF SAID PROPERTY

YOUR UNDERSTANDING IS APPRECIATED

Then you should've double-checked the locks, I thought to myself as I entered through the back door.

Out of paranoia of being spotted I waited until it was near midnight before trying to get my car back, still parked across from her house just as I had left it. I hadn't been back to this place since that dreaded night, but to my surprise as I turned the corner to walk up Natsuki's block there was…nothing. Then again, I'm not sure what I was expecting; maybe a police car parked in front for looks? Chain-link fencing to keep out squatters? I was expecting an army but arrived at a ghost town, all the lights of her house turned off and only some heavy caution tape and the bright red condemnation order glued to the front door. The soft orange street lamps glowed against the wide asphalt streets of Gaijin Boulevard, but the neighborhood was entirely silent. I could hear the croaks of frogs in the grass serenading with the distant barking of a dog in someone's yard, but other than that…nothing, a quiet Monday night. The thought of trying to get inside hadn't occurred to me until right as I turned the keys and looked over at the abode, looking glum in the still darkness.

Perhaps they felt the vacate order was enough. Perhaps the police felt nobody would bother snooping around here, anyway. For all I knew Natsuki had no living relatives, nobody to claim title to the house or its belongings. The murder of the century continued to dominate the airwaves, but there was a certain…tension, growing around the buzz. People were talking. Not in so many decades had a crime of this nature occurred in such a violent fashion, and revealed so publically. There were no crime scene photos, but the officers who arrived at the scene first had already given abridged statements to the media. It was them and not the reporters who mentioned that there was a third person involved, but refused to give details as they (meaning me) were not a suspect…but once there's blood in the water, there's nothing that can stop a feeding frenzy. Social media was rife with speculation about who this unknown character was, or their real role in the matter. What, they were asking, were the police trying to hide?

My eyes struggled to adjust as I slowly opened the door, listening for a sound.

I was astonished as I scrolled through the feeds. Who gives a fuck about me, I'm not the one in jail! The court of public opinion was rocking in and out of her favor, but looking through comments and threads there were people who had their doubts. How, I mused, could you be so adamant in the dismissal of someone you've never met to call them a thug, a delinquent, a psychopath? To say that the murder was pre-planned, that she was a prostitute, that it was an effort to get in on some insurance payout or something even more nefarious and stupid and libelous. The police are desperate to hide their mistakes and they're gonna bulldoze this whole place and sweep all its memories under the rug, maybe as soon as tomorrow morning. Not a single care for personal artifact or affection. On the national scene the intelligence and law enforcement agencies were being torn a new one. The details were still fuzzy, but Natsuki's father was involved with some quite illicit and illegal operations, some sort of smuggling trade? FIrearms and drugs? So bad to the degree it taking a homicide to expose was truly embarrassing for those in charge to uncover until now. The political roundtables and echo chambers were rife with debate, calling for audits and resignations.

I turned on my phone's flashlight and quickly crouched down, careful to not let the light leak outside. There's no way I was seen coming in; I was wearing dark clothes and followed the fence line towards the back once I saw the angry red bulletin on the front. The backdoor opened with ease, connecting to a small derelict laundry room before leading to the main entry and staircase I had first seen that night.

The air was thick and stale from the lack of air conditioning. I peered around in the darkness, trying to get my bearings and control my breathing. The fresh biting searing memories began to churn again in my heart.

Where there was once a violent and bloody scene remained the same nightmare frozen in time, just absent of the person responsible for all of it. Broken glass littered the floor like confetti, splinters of wood and plasterboard crunching under my shoes. The furniture and fixtures slumped against the walls from being moved by investigators, but white tarps covered certain places where I imagine there was gore but I didn't dare touch it to look. Speckles of dried black blood stained the walls, and a gaping hole from Natsuki's warning shot remained in the ceiling with wires drooping low. Right where the living room entry began was a massive black-brown spot several feet wide, what was a cascade of sticky hot blood where Natsuki's father died. The kitchen appeared ransacked, but that might've been from before I arrived.

What a mess, was the one thought that kept running through my mind. What a sad mess.

Pulling the curtains closed, I began to slowly dig through the debris of this warzone in search of… recognition? Anything. Photo frames of people I did not know, some taken many years ago. Did Natsuki know any of these people or were they complete strangers?

What would Natsuki value in any of this? This was a domain I never got to enter on the right terms, no nervous shaking of the hands with the patriarch (I assume) of the Tamura clan. No trying to make awkward conversation at the dinner table just like in the movies with a man whose one question for me is what my intentions are with his daughter. No gradual warming up to me as we get to know each other with Nats breaking the tension. No sneaking a goodbye kiss at the door. A fairytale never to be played, a story never to be written. The dream of a perfect and beautiful life together was born and put down inside these walls.

It can't be real, this nightmare. But it is. There's no going back.

I sifted through the rubble and continued to search. A heavy leather binder, the cover cut and scuffed, stuck out to me. I carefully blew the glass particles off and thumbed through it. It was a photo album, with the first couple of pages variously-sized prints of places I did not recognize. These snapshots were a couple of decades old with the first photos watermarked in the late 70s. Lakes, canyons, skyscrapers, homes. These were all American landmarks foreign to me but identified by the handwritten captions on the bottom. I began to read them to myself at random,

Welcome to Mesquite! Great day at the Alamo! Xavier gets wet and wild at WaterWorld!

Everyone in these photos, with their tall outdated hairstyles and grinning care-free faces, were Caucasian. This had to have been her fathers side of things, but what about her mother? I looked at the time on my phone; about twenty minutes since I first got here and that was only the first few pages. Better take it with me and ask questions later. Surely a photo album like this has some value to her.

I quickly put the binder in my backpack and slung it behind me. After a couple of more minutes collecting various trinkets, an ornament here and a drawing there, I decided to go upstairs to her room.

The wood planks croaked as I made my way up the stairs, groaning with each labored step. If anything the air was even hotter up here, but I didn't dare turn on the AC for fear of a neighbor hearing the unit activate outside. Surely everyone in a three block vicinity would've heard of what happened here and would be keeping a curious eye on anyone coming by. That night when we were both led away in handcuffs separated by the officers, I could see cars and trucks almost to the next intersection.

The second floor was spared of the heavier damage, although there was a sizable crushed corner of the wall where I had shoved him down the stairs. The crowbar gleamed when the light caught it, reflecting against the pictures hanging along the walls. Watercolors of forests and countryside mingled with more dated photos, some black-and-white.

Natsuki's bedroom door was wide open, with the faint glow of the moon shining past her window to the cluttered mess on the floor. It still looked more or less the same, but now with time to observe it a picture came into focus; there must've been an argument here first. She had mentioned he…tried to throw her out? The argument starts here, they fight, then ran downstairs to get away from him…that's when she called me, then the call clicked.

I shake my head. I should've been here quicker.

What was her mattress, a yellowing somewhat smelly thing, is flipped up and leaning against the back wall showing the metal frame underneath covered partially by the sheets. I grip the side of her dresser and start to look through (sorry Nats) her stuff in the drawers…hm. Clothes, of course, but mostly Yamaku uniforms. A few anime T-shirts, some blouses and skirts. Socks. Panties. I dig through the other drawers but they're just empty.

No belongings? Surely she has some things…oh, baby. I'm so sorry.

As I turn the flashlight around, some of the debris I'm trying not to step in catches my eye. They're books, quite colorful but the pages are frayed and shredded. I crouch down on my knees and lift one up by the corner, but it's upside down. I slowly flip it over and read the–

Parfait Girls, Volume 7.

Oh no.

I drop the book and grab another and another one, confirming what I already knew was true. The book has been ripped right down the spine in half but their fronts were still readable. The Parfait Girls, the entire collection I got her for Christmas. Brand new, mint condition, the perfect gift for the perfect girl…

…and he destroyed them. He ruined them all. Out of spite.

My back drops against the wall and I slowly slide to the ground, in the midst of this ocean of despair. There's a feeling like I want to cry but nothing happens, just the heaving crashing feelings of desolation I've been dealing with ever since this all began. My stomach churns and crumbles as I clutch my arms together and lower my head, squeezing my eyes shut to close out the demons dancing in my head. This should never have happened. How could this happen. Over and over again the dread and agony crash through my mind like tidal waves, sucking me into the abyss. I shudder as I let out a long sigh, trying not to throw up.

Just one thought rises above it all.

I miss you.

Chapter 33: Walkin' After Midnight

Chapter Text

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HIGH SCHOOL PARENTICIDE CASE SHOCKS JAPAN, POLICE OFFER LITTLE INSIGHT

At a press conference early this morning, the Edogawa Police Department remained tight-lipped on major details concerning the murder of a retired American GI living in the prefecture over the weekend, the accused suspect being the man's daughter. The incident was reported to police in the late hours of Friday the 27th and the daughter, identified as 18 year old Natsuki Tamura, remains in custody at the police precinct as of Monday.

"(The National Police Agency) and subsequent parties understand that this is a very serious case with a heightened public interest because of the youth factor…we can only guarantee utmost professionalism as this case moves forward." Edogawa Police Chief Kiyotaka Hamada told the press at the steps of the Metro Police Headquarters in Chiyoda. "This is an evolving investigation…we believe there may be other actors involved, and we are looking into every account and report." This is the first time police have made a full statement concerning the murder after radio-silence through the weekend.

When pushed further, Ward Chief Hamada offered vague details. "We are of the understanding there is a person closely connected to the suspect who was present at the time of the incident, but we do not believe them to be an instigator or collaborator to the incident. As a result they have not been charged. We are asking anyone with helpful or otherwise information about the accused and the victim to step forward and make contact with one of our detectives." The press conference lasted merely five minutes before Hamada signaled the end and returned inside the building with his entourage.

The victim has been identified as 53-year old Gerald Xavier Tamura, a retired United States Army Corp of Engineers specialist who public records show has been living in Edogawa since the 2000s. He was reported to be a divorcee and had just the one daughter from said marriage, living in a neighborhood commonly associated with retired Allied soldiers. His daughter has been identified to be an active student at Yamaku High School. There has been intense speculation as to the charges she might be subjected to, as homicide and other possible felony-level charges have punishment levels up to and including the death penalty.

The criminal system of Japan has no obligation for a speedy release or trial; a person accused of a crime could potentially be held in custody for twenty three days before the person is even formally charged. Pending said charge, it is likely the suspect will remain in custody at the local precinct and if charged would be relocated to the Tokyo Detention House in downtown Katsushika. Prosecutors historically are incredibly unlikely to present a case to a judge unless they sincerely believe they can win; in 2017, it was reported there was a nearly 98 percent successful conviction rate for cases that went to trial and jury. Japan is one of a handful of countries that continue a death penalty consequence for especially heinous crimes, and the topic has consistently ranked in support with public polling for decades.

With respect to the online realm social media was lit aflame with talk and speculation as to the circumstances of the case. The story has quickly become an international study with a majority of netizens expressing great sorrow for the suspect-in-question, some claiming to be friends or family of the girl and pleading for mercy. Others were not as sympathetic, insisting the rule of law must be applied and to wait for further details before taking a side. Racial epithets were also used. Such a violent but delicate situation in these quiet towns is quite rare and a similar case has not happened in Japan in nearly half a century, and it will be a question in the coming days and weeks as to how the law may be reviewed and applied in sentencing for the suspect."

Reporting live from the Metro Government Building, Rodolfo Suarez, United World News, Tokyo."

With a sharp gasp, I rise from my slumber.

Dust glints in the air as the morning sun shines through the window. I groan as I slowly push myself up from the ground and watch a foamy trail of drool dribble down my lips and connect to the stale sickly carpet. Ew.

I wipe my mouth; definitely not the best sleep I've ever had. Stiff pains shoot up my spine and splay across my ribs, the bruises from̶̦̑͐ ̶̞͂́t̵̗̥̔h̷̯̒͘e̶̤̝̽͆ ̵̂fig̴͎̍ĥ̴̫̩t̶̢̠́͊ ̴̘̀c̶͙͆̍o̵̘̅mplaining in their now usual chorus. The air still has that decaying rot odor to it but there's the distant hum of the AC units outside pumping some fresh air into the place at least. I did my best to tidy-up Natsuki's room by putting together the ruined mangas into a stack and pushing the big debris, the shards of glass and wood and everything else, into one big pile. It felt disrespectful to sleep in her bed even for a night, without her comfort there, so I just pulled off the bedsheets and made a spread on the–

Wait.

The AC is on?

I didn't turn it on–

"-Shouldn't cost too much, but you'd definitely have to rewire–"

Christ! I snap to attention.

There are people in the house!

I flip onto my stomach and push up. My knees pop and complain as I clamber to my feet and grip the dresser for balance, trying to stay quiet. My chest heaves as I inch towards the door. My free hand sweeps the hair out of my face as I ever so slowly peek out the side.

There's nothing, but the male voice continues, "...man, look at all that blood."

Another male, older than the first, laughs. "Squeamish?"

"No. Just…man, what happened here?"

Police? Looters? Reporters looking for the inside scoop? I cup my ear to try and gauge the chatter.

"Some girl shot her dad when he caught her and her boyfriend in her room."

"No shit, huh?"

I scowl. Yes, total shit. Dogshit actually. Where the hell did you even hear that from?

The older male continued, "I guess the dad got shot…here, ish. The fight started in the living room, which explains that." The sound of papers shuffling. "I suppose it all started down here, the report didn't mention any damage up top."

"Well, let's go look."

And three distinct pairs of shoes start to stomp up the stairs.

The room begins to blur. Oh my God, oh God oh GodI can feel my feet shuffling together, a clammy cold-as-ice rush licking up and down the hairs of my arms. What to do? The door hangs wide open, and my fight or flight forces me to lurch towards it and twist the knob, lifting the door slightly up in an effort to stifle the hinges from creaking. The door silently swings closed, but the sweat of my palms lets the knob go just a second too early and it makes a loud brassy squeak! as it releases.

The men are talking, I can hear their deep tones, but I've no idea what they're saying. Get the fuck outta there!

There's just the one window in Natsuki's room, facing out to a dead-patched backyard and a tall wood-fence perimeter, a small shed tucked in the corner. There's a locked gate along the side, and it almost looks like there's some kind of car alley behind the fence, paved or not I don't know, separating the two blocks of neighborhoods…but my car is in the front of the house, and I have no idea who's even parked out there now. Probably the whole fucking police department waiting to nab me with my good fortunes recently, and my Dad with the belt.

The morning sun shining down, I stick my head out the window and swerve to my left and right. The houses between here seem quiet, nobody in the backyards at least. Too early for a barbecue, huh? It's an entire story drop down with some sickly looking bushes to comfort the fall, but they look soft, a decent landing spot. It's either that or fall directly onto the stone walkway that fronts it. The plants kind of look like…buganvilias? No…maybe camellias from, ah, where was it? Oh, Mom used to grow them in the garden. A forgotten hobby from another world.

"It's not so bad?"

"This door's locked."

Jump.

I'm sticking my leg out the window when as an afterthought I look behind me where the bag full of Natsuki's mementos still waits patiently atop the bed. I almost trip trying to reach over to it and dangle it out the window. I swing once, twice…it drops from my free hand and snags on the branches of the shrubbery, but still drops like a rock with a muted glass crunch onto the walkway. Sorry, hun. I'll buy you a new frame.

Now it's your turn.

I look hesitantly down at the drop, the world spinning and pulling away from me, and dig my fingers against the sun bleached wood frame. First one leg, then the other, then my butt is resting precariously on the windowsill, poking into a splinter. The birds nesting in the nearby trees whistle a merry but curious tune, blending in with the wind chimes hanging from the patio off to my far right. An icy tingling snakes up my throat, that all-inviting sense of dread high above my head. I heave my chest as I look for the courage to make the leap.

A man says, "I think someone's here."

Found it.

There's that odd sensation again of my body flying through the air before I land right into the thick of the thorny, dying rose bushes. Two or three dozen claw marks rake down my bare arms as the bristles snag against my clothes, immediately drawing thin trails of blood that drip right down my arms. The next thirty seconds are kind of a sickening blur as I'm shouting in pain my fingers snapping the bag up and I just book it around the corner thick blots of blood splattering all over the grass and I rocket to the front of the house and across the street when someone shouts "Hey!" but I'm still thundering down the asphalt refusing to stop where two white vans are parked on the curb but no police, thank God. The keyfob chirps as I throw the door open climb inside and roar the engine to life. My vision smears as I keep looking back to the house, but there's no activity, none at all no mob chasing me down. I pull the car in gear and try not to race down the street, not stopping 'till I turn the corner and pull back into more familiar surroundings and only then do I finally start to relax.

Relax just as the adrenaline of the sprint dies and the screaming pain of the thorns truly kicks in. The tears are welling up as the pain forces me off the road, smacking the hazard button and peeling off to the side to grip my arms as the muscles scream and contract.

There's blood everywhere; on the seat, on the wheel, on the dash, in my fucking eyes. My throat chokes for air as I caress my trembling arms and grab blindly for anything to mop up the morbid mess, my fingers dig to the backseat and land on an old t-shirt on the floorboard with the white fabric turning an ugly black with the blood. The smell of the metal is so bad and the pain so fierce I feel like I'm going to pass out.

Kit. First aid kit.

Another blur as my body is rearing up from the driver's seat almost stumbling right into traffic and to the back of the car, digging through the same place I found that crowbar only days ago. Does it have–yes, it does. A bottle of water to rinse the arms, peroxide to clean the wounds, gauze to wrap it all up. Sickly black drops splatter everywhere, mixing with the chemical, trailing down the bumper of the car in bubbly acidic white streaks as I try to rest. The morning sun continues to rise indifferent to my struggle. It takes nearly half an hour to properly nurse and I definitely look like a bum sitting on the side of the road doing all this, but I couldn't care less. Society can kiss my ass at this point.

This is nothing compared…I have to see her.

What's happening to you now, baby girl? I pray for your safety. I pray even though I don't know who I'm even praying to. Does prayer require a recipient? It's not the act of worshiping something, but honoring someone. Natsuki Tamura, a girl who would never dream of raising an indecent hand to anyone, framed as guilty of one of the most heinous acts imaginable, the taking of a life. Natsuki. A week ago we were inseparable and now here…we…are. A completely unimaginable fate a week ago is now the unforgiving reality, that we have been accused and nobody wishes to believe us. Or cares to.

A car honks at me as it passes. I lower my eyes and take a slow breath. What a mess we're in, but we're in this together.

It occurs to me at that moment that I haven't had the urge for my phone yet, so I paw my pockets for it to find the battery dead. I flick my wrist to look at my watch; almost ten, otherwise around the second going third period at Yamaku. Someone with the admin would've called my parents by now…who would then try to call me…to hear a full voicemail after I've been gone all night…and now there were probably some witnesses to some kid fleeing a closed-off crime scene today, who would call the police to report what they saw. So from every angle I'm seeing it, I'm in it deep today.

I watch the traffic pass me by for a minute, from my stoop on the back bumper. I don't know how long I ended up sitting there, phasing in and out of reality but I did notice the warmth of the Sun slowly shift across my face before I think to move. The drivers pay me no mind, their eyes flickering to me on the side before back to the road. Off to their offices or to school or departing the city. This is a country of 120 million people, yet I'm alone on a sinking island built just for me.

What should I do?

'You will either respect her or you will fucking fear me!'

My heart shudders.

''You think you're so fucking bad!? Come and take it!'

The hot needles stab and pierce my eyes so hard the tears flutter in my lashes. His shouts and defiance replay endlessly in my mind. My lips form the words and squeak, Kah-zu-mah, but no sound comes out. A painful huffy whimper. I pressed my fingers so hard against my temples I felt like a blood-gorged tick about to pop, but I remained the same. I'm still here. Still here.

Oooh…baby, baby-yyy...

I should've been quicker. I ran out of aspirin hours ago and the guards aren't here. I could've broken you two up. I could've just knocked him out. I could've–I coul–I should've done so much more. It didn't have to end like this. I miss you so badly it feels like I'm being boiled alive. My skin is so stinky and stretchy. Emi is still sleeping but I can see the glow of the orange sunrise through our tiny slit window, blotting out the inky black night with the birth of a new day. Eventually the guards will start to rise us up for breakfast, but I haven't slept at all. I want you. I want you.

Kazuma.

Forget about me. I'm a dead girl walking. I will love you until the end of time and a little bit after that, but you must forget about me. I command you to. There is no redemption for me and I realize that now as the migraine ripples and chatters my teeth so so bad. Bright colors mix with the spots of white in my eyes. Red, green, blue. I squeeze my fists and feel my knuckles pop. I shove a finger in my mouth and bite hard to keep from screaming and waking her up.

My body flails and rolls around on the bed as I writhe over and over, clutching my stomach. The pains are so sharp they feel like hot irons being speared inside me. The fear of never seeing you again. I know you're out there somewhere, I pray you're safe and sound, but it's like my entire body is aching for you. The caress of your hand, the twinkle of your eyes. Carnal, red hot fire within me my love for you is.

Father.

How desperately I despise you. The stink of your alcohol, the hairs of your brow, the holes in your teeth. You always used to tussle and mess with your hair to hide your sickeningly hilarious balding dome. Did you like the free haircut I gave you? One hundred percent off or your money back! I can still feel the slickness of the oil now between my fingertips, the chemical burn of the gun tingling my nose. My lips lick with relish. Why did I stop with one shot? If I can escape this hell I will claw you out from the ground and turn your carcass into–

The hallways have a timed light tuned to motion, so for the past few hours it's been off and I like it that way. But now the lights are slowly clicking to life with the clack of heels coming down the corridor. A matching pair of shiny black shoes.

The clacking of the shoes is so loud it starts to stir Emi, but I spring up like a coil and sit perfectly towards the wall. My arms shake and I push my palms to my knees, trying to calm down. Two officers in blue uniforms, with clean cuts and fresh faces I've never seen before, slow as they reach our cell. One fiddles with a key ring and the other shuffles some papers against a manilla folder.

Could it be?

The bars slide open and the one with the keyring blurts out, "Which one is Emi Ibarazaki?"

Horror. Emi is just starting to rise up from her sleep but she recognizes her own voice. She looks up in alarm and snaps up at the two men. Realization. "Wh-what? I'm leaving?!"

The other officer chimes in, "Your bond has been posted. Time to go." And they make the move to take her away, reaching for her arm.

We lock eyes in a second and Emi almost leaps out of her skin and catapults across the room to hug me tight. "Gh, uhh–Kazuma! Kazuma Odaka! Yamaku High!" The officers take a step back, surprised at the reaction, but they're still preparing to escort her out.

The tears spring up from me in a flash. My hands reached for her face and were almost nose-to-nose. "Do you remember the number!?"

She blinks and shakes her head assuringly, hugging me tighter. "U-uhhh, y-y-yes! Even if I don't, I'll find him. I promise, baby doll." She kisses me once on the cheek and we start to sob.

The officer with the keyring isn't one for emotion, because he's saying "Alright, let's go." and the two pull her away and Emi starts to shuffle out the door but we're still calling out to each other, keeping our eyes locked. "Don't let them break you! I'll come back soon!" The manilla folder cop grips her arm and she glares at him, breaking our eye contact.

I put a hand to my mouth and can only gasp, "I know I love you!", just as she's being walked down the hall and out of earshot.

Leaving me all alone once again.

Four Months Ago

The long cavernous hallways of the old Tokyo Convention Center boomed with activity as the crowds swelled towards the double-doors of the Main Ballrooms, a beehive of activity on that crisp February afternoon. The great halls of convention swelled towards their breezy capacity, as the snappy chilled winds from outside and gently shook the windows, guaranteeing everyone would be squeezing in for warmth. Kawaii-Kon!, as the convention was stylized by, was one of the more mid-sized anime events in the area and one of the first of the New Year. It had only been around for a few years but it always had something interesting going on in its two days; karaoke, arcades, guests, the works. Compared to something like Comiket hosted at the gargantuan Big Sight complex, which the few times I've been there feels like entering another galaxy, the smaller convention center allowed the chance for a more enjoyable and personal experience.

Valentine's Day was on a Wednesday, but the convention was for the weekend that followed. Now that was an interesting day, with the familiar red-pink banners hanging and the aura of romance floating through the corridors. The day ended with a pile of chocolates and love letters Monika collected into one big bag to split the candy with and to read the letters out loud at the club meeting. Yuri had, much to her intense blushing surprise, a bouquet of roses delivered to her during class with no idea as to who sent it. Sayori and Yoshi exchanged gifts and played hooky every other class so she told us, but Nats and I opted to just get each other small chocolates and save the warm and fuzzy occasion for the convention itself. We had an entire weekend of events planned, and absolutely nothing could spoil it.

These were brand new cosplays of ours but we were kicking it old-school; Tuxedo Mask and Sailor Jupiter (canonical inconsistency notwithstanding). It was fairly simple to put together, just parting my hair away from its usual swirl and fixing up my tux here and there, but Natsuki spent a little extra time at the cosplay repair room to make it less revealing before she changed outfits. She seemed satisfied once we entered the dealers hall to look around, and once people started asking us for photos her worries earlier in the day melted away. Nothing some strategically-placed safety pins couldn't fix. We were one of the most popular couples at the con and it wasn't even lunchtime yet.

As we stepped away from the Artist Alley to the crisscrossing corridors leading to the panel rooms, Natsuki's hand flexed out and beckoned for mine. Without hesitation I laced my fingers with hers, but she began to pull me away from the herd and up an escalator. She faced away but I looked at her, bemused. "Where are we going?"

She turned to shush me with a wink as we began to ascend. "I don't know. Let's find out."

The escalator passed over the wide glass rotunda looking out onto Sarue-onshi Park, with its wide lake frosting over and trees shaking in the cold winds. Beyond it were homes, towers and beyond it the distant skyline. As we ascended the roofs of houses became smaller, climbing up to the top of the building. The booming chatter of the lobby three stories below us began to fade as most people got off on the second floor, where the karaoke lounge and anime viewing rooms and everything else were being hosted. It seemed nobody was using the third floor for anything.

Ah.

Natsuki, still gripping my hand, led us off the escalator and across the polished linoleum floors. Our heels clacked quietly in step as we stepped off, where at the top it led to a small lounge area with plush couches, tables and some vending machines, but headed off into another hallway connecting to even more conference rooms. There was a group of older men in suits just exiting from the bathroom, but other than that we were all alone. Just as the hallway opened up, a velvet rope hung clipped across the frame with a printed paper sign.

CONVENTION DOWNSTAIRS! PLEASE TURN AROUND! THANK YOU!

I shrugged. "Kind of a no-go area, hun." My feet shuffled slightly, but Nats persisted. Her hand let go as she swooped low under the rope with ease, lifting it up so I could cross.

"It's a sign, not a cop."

I could feel an icy wave of hesitation ripple within me; there had to be a camera somewhere watching us. The goody-two shoes Kazuma Odaka was saying to look both ways and obey the law, but I ignored it. You can't tell me what to do, sign.

I crouched to cross over and we again held hands as we strolled down the hall, gazing at the various art that hung on the walls. Ballroom A, Ballroom B, Ballroom C…the retro-futurist spinning logo of Tokyo Convention Center idled on each display screen showed no schedule of events. The doors were all closed, to be expected, but still Natsuki continued by jiggling the knobs…searching…for…

Just before the hallway tapered off, a door opened. Us standing in the wide entry, Natsuki grinned as she looked up at me and nodded to the blackness of the room.

"Come on." Her eyes lifted with expectation.

"...aren't you worried about someone seeing us?"

On her tippy-toes, Nats leaned forward to peck me on the cheek. With her index and thumb she squeezed the cheek she just kissed goodnaturedly. "Well…um, they're not here now, are they?"

The honeyglow in my cheeks won the day. "Nooo…," I nudged her forward. "They're not."

The ballroom was a literal cavern, maybe fifty foot high ceilings with a nearly two hundred foot square perimeter. An awesome glass crystal light fixture hung from the very center of the room, with a quartet of satellite fixtures encircling the main light. Maybe two or three hundred steel cushion chairs lined in a perfect grid to face a speaking platform, where a thick wood podium and a row of five chairs sat. From the front of the room sat a single fluorescent light glowing across the stage, but save for the fire exit signage everything else was shut off. Natsuki quickly turned on her phone's flashlight and pawed for the lightswitch. In a blinding flash of white, all the harsh lights turned on.

I winced and covered my eyes. "Ouch."

"Ow, hang on." She grabbed something, a remote on the wall secured by Velcro. She flicked the lights off, cloaking us in near darkness again. She mushed buttons on the remote. "Look, I think you can adjust the–oooohhhmygooosh…"

Her voice trailed off as she mushed buttons on the beige plastic remote. The chandelier seemed to come alive, slowly rotating as its quartet of sibling lights joined in a brilliant display of electric colors and lasers. A crashing sea of green pierced by dozens of neon blue lights illuminated us all, spinning and shooting across the chairs and the entire floor. The effect was amplified by the chandeliers spinning in their place; it seemed the entire ballroom was swarming in an ocean of swimming…something. Fish? Yeah.

My jaw hung ajar. "Wow…", I started to move towards the front of the stage, feeling the glow of the lights shining down on me, criss-crossing my fingers. The room was alive with color, as if we were in the middle of a massive kaleidoscope.

Natsuki pressed more buttons as I continued to slowly stride past the chairs towards the front. The lights flickered from green against blue, to red against orange, to purple against pink. Finally, the lights settled on the prettiest pattern yet; a blue-black with hundreds of twinkling silver stars of various shapes and sizes streaking across the entire space.

I felt dizzy. Utsukushii.

I turned to look at her, and a strange puppy-like glow crossed her face. The stars amplified the highlights of her features; her clean pure face, her dazzling intelligent eyes. The gears in her head began to turn, thinking of the moment…she reached for her phone and began to tap. As I turned to glance straight up from underneath the main chandelier, where the lights were most prominent, Natsuki's phone began to play a strong oldies serenade I couldn't quite recognize.

As the song began Natsuki quickly strode up to me and made a silent motion to dance. Without even thinking I closed the gap to put my hands to her hips as the song began, her one hand resting on my chest with the other gripping my shoulder. We began to do a slow waltz in place, under the glow of the chandelier, bucking and swaying slightly. As I tried to keep with this unfamiliar beat, I could feel the tickle of her wig hairs under my chin.

The song was beautiful, a very sharp-throated woman singing about a midnight walk under the stars pondering about her lover. I knew only some basic dance moves Mom had shown me long ago, but Natsuki seemed to be an expert in footwork; kicking and stepping and shuffling like an acrobat on a high wire. Like she had practiced. I felt a bead of sweat drip from an eyebrow and tried to keep pace, looking down and watching her feet move like magic across the floor. An expert against an amateur.

Natsuki giggled. "Oh, gosh."

"H-huh?"

Her voice was teasing with an air of flirt. She gently nudged her knuckle into my chest with the emphasis, "Don't telll me this is the first time you've ever danced with a girlll."

I spun us around slowly, towards the stage, feeling the lights cross over my face. I sighed. "Oh, bite me."

"Maybe later."

I just rolled my eyes, squeezed her hips and pulled her closer. I could feel her body rock against mine as my heartbeat slowed, relaxing, savoring the moment. With you Nats my worries melt away. We crossed towards the stage and as I walked backwards up the small steps, I picked her up with ease and set her on the stage as light as a feather to continue the slowdance. Perched on one of the seats, the song continued to harmonize from her phone.

I mused, "Who's singing this? I can't place them."

She paused, glancing away for a moment. "Ummm…I don't think you'd recognize them, hun."

"Try me."

"Patsy Cline?"

"...ah, no, sorry."

The serenade continued, repeating the chorus. Patsy Cline must be an American singer. Gosh, it was such a beautiful song. The beauty of great music is to bring the peoples of all nations together regardless of race, of creed or language barrier. The constant twinkle of the chandelier lights truly brought the song to life right off the pages of the lyrics, as we bucked and swayed and Natsuki hummed the melody to herself. The stage was ours to behold. As the singer paused to let the instrumentals play, with the precision of a hummingbird in the wind Natsuki spun in place, stepping and twirling on the tips of her toes before she returned back to me. From my breast pocket a rose I plucked (stole) off a convenience store rack droops, and with a free hand I take the flower and place it lengthwise in my mouth. As the song finally crested and began to fade away, I twisted myself slightly to dip her down low, our noses gently touching tip-to-tip.

I don't know exactly what I was trying to do here, but I do recall the stem of the rose pinching into my canine and instead of gently dropping flat to her own lips, the rose turns and plonks directly into the bridge of her eyes, the petals fluttering and flower thudding to the floor. She only has a moment to squeak a bored "ow" as a cramp bites up my leg and in one horrifying moment she yelps as I lose my balance and we both fall to the floor. Natsuki just starts to laugh and playfully hits me on the head over and over, my chest heaving as we both lay there side by side. The stars at night spun deeper and brighter across the ceiling, entrancing us.

The energy of the ballroom. The power of our love. Two hearts as one. We had achieved, if only for a moment, nirvana. The impossible barrier that divides all peoples across all souls finally broken, if even for a breath.

As the song ended and we started to dust ourselves off, we scooted to the edge of the stage as I cradled her, her soft head laying on my lap. I looked up at the softly spinning lights as she played with the buttons of my tux, tracing her finger down the crease of the suit.

"I don't want this moment to end."

Parting the hair from her face, I lowered down and kissed her slow and soft, gently caressing her cheek with my thumb the same way she did when we first stepped in here. We held the kiss for a blissful eternity before I broke it off, smiling.

"It never will."

Author's Note: Sorry for the wait! But I promise you, they will be reunited soon.

Thank you all so so much to everyone who likes/supports Love and Literature! Please stay tuned!

Chapter 34: One Last Kiss

Chapter Text

"But if you knew you might not be able to see it again tomorrow, everything would suddenly become special and precious, wouldn't it?" -Haruki Murakami

ARE YOU NOW OR HAVE YOU EVER BEEN APART OF A TERRORIST ORGANIZATION?

No.

HAVE YOU EVER BEEN CONVICTED OF A FELONY OR OTHER CRIME?

No.

ARE YOU NOW OR HAVE YOU EVER BEEN UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF AN ILLEGAL SUBSTANCE?

Who would even admit to th—no.

In the glow of midday, the lobby of the Edogawa Police Headquarters really didn't seem too bad, but as I took a seat in the laundromat-style chairs along the windows that overlooked the main street I began to notice the decay. Occasional wood paneling against a linoleum floor. The array of yellow-brown puddles of rat pee stained in the ceiling tiles. One of the ceiling lights flickered now and then behind its plastic cover. There were a variety of people in the lobby. I saw a mom rocking and cooing at her babbling baby daughter swabbed in a blanket against her knee, a few seats down from a sour-faced elderly man holding a thick stack of manilla folders in his crinkled hands. A water cooler bubbled every so often to the tune of the air conditioning units humming against the wall, their vents sucking in air from outside. The space was tenable, but when was the last time it ever saw a renovation? 1993?

Which was surprising because when I looked beyond the receptionist's area towards the actual police floor, it seemed like something out of a sci-fi movie. Through the wide glass-wall partition I could see a terminal of flatscreen television monitors playing all the local news channels, and towards the very back a massive wall with maps of the various local Tokyo-region prefectures: Chiba, Saitama, Kanagawa among others. A sea of thumb tacks and yarn strings and photographs and newspaper clippings all around, holding some kind of significance I'm sure of the many investigations ongoing across our beautiful city. There was a range of open-air cubicles where officers in their neatly pressed blue uniforms, their black ties and silver clips and leather caps running around pointing at their computer screens and talking with terse expression, but their words were a mystery. I could see at least one of them, a silver-haired hawk whose uniform was slightly different from the others had his eye trained on me but looked away. Others were indifferent and seemed at total ease, just another day at the office slurping coffee mugs and munching on bakery goods as they laughed in a huddle around their desks.

I huffed through my nose. Taxpayer dollar at work.

I impatiently shook my foot as I had my leg folded across my knee, the clipboard resting on my lap as I began to angrily scribble the answers to the paper. Three whole pages of what? Bullshit mostly. A security screening, asking who was I and what did I want…and then a second packet to fill out about the meeting. What was my relationship to the suspect? What did I plan to discuss with the suspect? What was my knowledge of why the suspect was in custody? So invasive, I thought. As if it's any of their business, and there would be a guard standing in the room taking notes anyway. Gather all your blackmail against us then.

I flipped to the very back and found a guideline page of what we could and could not do in the half hour (at the most) we were expected to have together. You may not physically touch each other. You may not make gestures to indicate some sort of message to each other. You cannot provide information concerning the case pending against the suspect. I felt my eyes boil into the page as it went on and on…in those years after the war, was cruelty always the intended feature in redesigning the justice system of our country? We were responsible for so much debauchery and evil in those days against our neighbors and distant foes, and here we are again decades later doing the same to our own peoples. Maybe we never learned anything from those days if the powers that be feel this is the way to treat another countryman or woman. My eyes landed towards the bottom of the page.

Failure to abide by these rules will end the meeting.

A half hour…to give her the world. Maybe our last half hour together.

The most horrifying anecdote I had learned of in the past few days of research was that, in the nightmare event that I refused to accept as a possibility, if Natsuki were be found guilty of whatever messed up charge and sent to a prison–I bit down on my lip to suppress the gag reflex–I would never be able to talk to her again. Once in the legit prison system, a prisoner could only correspond with blood relatives. Persons without living relatives simply do not receive correspondence. I could stand outside the walls of her cell every single day until my body gave out and I would never be allowed to even hear her voice on the phone. If she passed on in custody, I wouldn't even receive a letter in the mail.

I stopped writing the packet and closed my eyes.

A half hour…to tell her that I love her. Thirty minutes to tell her that she is my everything, the light of my life, the reason my world still spins. That life without her simply isn't one worth living. That I was scared of what my fingers might do to me if I knew they could never be entwined with hers again.

I looked down at my suit and saw my hands were trembling, so I laid the pen on the clipboard and clasped them together tightly. I drew a slow breath through my lips and blew through my nose, counting backwards menially from ten. Nine…eight…seven. I felt the blood ripple in my temple, my red tie drooping. 

How could any God be so cruel to us? Where is our mercy?

My eyes fluttered open again and landed on a particular line on the guideline page: You are allowed to bring one reading item to the suspect for their keepsake and two meal items.

Wh, two? I felt my brain reel back again. I could've sworn the government website said only one…in my fluffy gift bag I had brought a copy of our particular favorite Parfait Girls volume and had spent the morning creating a bento box stuffed as much as it would allow with rice, meat and nourishment…but being able to offer her two items would be even better. Who could say what she was being fed in here?

I felt my knees pop as I reared up from my seat and walked to the receptionist desk again, where a fairly-polite young lady with auburn hair ticked and tacked away at her computer console and helped me with checking in for the meeting. I cleared my throat.

"Uh, ma'am?"

The young lady in her brown business suit and matching long skirt glanced up at me. "Yes?"

"Is there…", my mind froze. "Would there be a, uh, vending machine, here?"

She smiled and pointed down the long hallway, turning away from the lobby. "Down that way, past the fountains." And almost robotically returned to typing her novel on the keyboard. I stood for a moment and began to walk down the hallway. From the corner of my eye, that silver-haired older officer had his eye on me yet again through the glass partition.

Down the hallway were massive framed photographs of Japan's points of interest in polished wood frames; the Tokyo Tower under construction, the sprawling paddy fields of Osaka, the active volcano complex of Mount Asama. At the very end of the hall was the fire exit leading back to the street, with a ray of light coming through the window pane. A triple set of vending machines next to a twin set of water fountains sat just before it, across from the bathrooms. I slowed my speed as I approached the glass, peering into the inventory.

My eyes scanned the rows. Maybe a protein bar? Or a tin of cookies, or maybe some licorice…hm. So many choices, but what would she really–

Ah! I felt my spirits lift slightly as I focused on a row of plastic cups. They have them!

Parfaits! Chocolate and cheesecake and banana cream! I immediately reached for my billfold and punched the keys for the strawberry flavor, knowing that was her particular favorite. The cup, complete with a spoon and napkin, dropped unceremoniously to the bottom. I carefully retrieved it and walked back to the lobby.

It was strange. The very fact that the vending machine even had parfaits, something I usually find in convenience stores or supermarkets…ridiculous as it sounds, it gave me a calming feeling. At least my gag reflex seemed to abate. My nerves were soothed even for a moment, a sign that the meeting would go well. That somewhere within this building, my love was waiting for me and all would be well again. As I returned to my seat, I filled out the packet with more enthusiasm and quickly returned it back to the receptionist. "Your name will be called shortly," she told me again with a smile.

And shortly, that moment came.

"It'll be just a moment."

The meeting room was a perfect square, of cinder block construction with no windows and ugly fluorescent lights hanging above. A stainless steel table with two chairs facing each other tucked in. At the corner facing the table closest to the door was a wood podium where a laptop sat, adorned with the National Police Agency logo. Drilled above it was a tiny white camera, hooked up to the wall. Next to that in the center of the wall a rectangular LED clock sat, the timer set to thirty minutes exactly.

"Just have a seat, sir. And we will be right with you." The baby-faced police officer with his neatly-combed hair told me, gesturing to the seat against the back wall. I just nodded and sat down, taking it all in.

And then the door closed.

I turned in my seat to look up at the camera, with a red light blinking behind the clamshell. My eyes boiled at the intrusive little device, but broke away. There was no noise in this room, not even the hum of the air vents. It was like sitting in a car with the engine off; only the white noise of your own conscious mind persisted.

And when left to its own devices, your mind begins to talk ugly.

What if they take her away from us…what if they win?

I bit down on my lip again, but the train of thought continued. She is the only girl that I want. It doesn't matter. I can't abandon her.

But she would be gone forever! Before you even shared a bed together!

What kind of man runs away from a fight? There are petitions, there are requests for a retrial, there are protests. The show is not over until the curtain falls.

You've seen the headlines. They're talking about the death penalty. They're drafting the ending.

I won't listen to you. That's not going to happen.

If they put her down like a dog, how long would it take you to forget her?

Shut the fuck up.

A year? A couple of months? You're a pig like that, you know? Looking for it's next meal.

I SAI̶̩͒Ḏ̵̢̾͑ ̶̮͙͋͝S̴͔͋H̵̹͐U̸̾ͅT̸͍̾͒ ̷̝̊̕T̴̩̉Ȟ̸͍̫̏E̸̗͔̖͕̔ ̸̲̤͉̪̙͍̿̃̇F̷̳̌̂̒͑̑͠Ủ̶͙͋̐̍̾͛͘C̸͍̠̲̺̝̠͍͆̉̇Ķ̴̨̼̝̇͘͘ ̶̤̠̻͉̇̇͐U̵̢̡̲͔͉̺̗̳̍̐̏̿́̂̚͜͝P̶̡͙̝̣̓̌̒̍̽!̸͕͌̋̽̃̀!̸͓̜̭̲̙̻̈͌͗͛͋̈́̈͠!̶̡̢̢͍̺̞̘̖̣͒

You might as well g̶̠͘ē̷̳ṭ̴̏ ̴̻̏u̴̙̍p̶̲͑ ̶̥̉f̵͇̆r̶̰̎ō̵̪m̴̖̓ ̷̘͐y̸̩͒o̶͖͗ṷ̸̕r̵̢̾ ̸̡͝c̵͖̈́h̸̛͈a̵̪̎i̵̝͒r̴͋͜ ̵̞̒and walk right out.

I WOULD RATHER DIE THAN LIVE MY LIFE WITHOUT HER.

Flexing my hand I smack myself hard across the cheek, again and again. The nails of my fingers dig into my eyebrows as I sputter and feel spittle run down my lips. The tears well up in my eyes but I manage to keep them down as I take deep breaths and wipe my face with my hands, bunching my fists up and pressing them to my cheeks. Looking all around, I can see a small shelf next to the police podium with bottles of water and baby wipes. Almost kicking the table away, I get up and yank some of the wipes and cleanse my face. The blood swells in my cheeks but the wipes cool them off. I guzzle half of a water bottle and swish it around in my mouth.

God, help me keep it together…just  please  keep it together for her…how embarrassing I must be, right now. A circus show for the camera.

Feeling a sense of calm again, I dig my fingers into my hair and sweep it back into order. I rub my hands clean and dispose of the wipes. Sitting back down, I take another long breath and begin to count backwards from ten…nine…eight…

The door opens and a different officer, a slightly older woman with sharp straight black hair and pursed lips, steps forward. "Kazuma Odaka?"

I glance up. "Yes?"

The officer steps forward and walks towards the podium, tapping the keyboard and beginning to take notes. The LED timer began to count down. The meeting had begun.

And then Natsuki Tamura stepped into the doorway.

A drab green jumpsuit with a single breast pocket is what she was given to wear, other than the metal chains connecting her wrists and ankles tightly. She has to shuffle while she walks, but when she takes a left step her body bends down with a limp. Her hair is unlike anything I had seen her before; combed down completely straight with a split in the middle of her hair parting her face. It was almost entirely brunette, and only the tips and ends had a trace of pink in them. Her cheeks were swollen red, and the bags under her eyes nearly black. She hunched forward, but I could see that she had shrunk almost an inch from the last time I saw her at Yamaku. Her fingernails had been bitten down almost to the nub, with the skin jagged and splintered. Her shoulders trembled as she kept her eyes down to the floor.

But despite everything, it was still her. My baby girl, just as beautiful as the day I met her.

When she stepped into the room her chin lifted up, and we locked eyes. Her eyebrows lifted and a wide grin spread across her face, but it was retracted by the bruising in her cheeks. She tried again to smile, but kept it restrained from the swelling. She sucked her lips in and formed a tight smile that way, but I could see a wince in her eyes that showed it was painful to do even that.

What on Earth are they doing to you here, hun?

The young male officer was polite enough to pull the chair out for her and push her back in. When Natsuki set her hands on the table, he pulled a small key from his pocket and unlocked the handcuffs. Dropping to the table, she rubbed her wrists with relief and licked her lips over and over, popping her fingers one by one.

"You have thirty minutes to interact," the older female officer said coldly. "Remember the rules provided to you."

The rules provided to us? So she wasn't free to be honest?

"It's so good to see you, my love." Natsuki croaked, a strain in her voice. "How have you been?"

I huffed my chest and reached down for the gift bag. "Baby, I have something for you."

She looked at me curiously. "Oh?"

I set the bag on the table and unveiled the bento box, setting the utensil next to it. A certain energy flared up in her eyes, as the smell of the barbecue beef became apparent when I popped the lid off to show her the contents. She shuffled forward in her chair, the metal squeaking against the floor.

"Ohhh, ohh…baby. You didn't have to…do that. I'm being fed so well here."

Is she serious? She can't be serious. "It–it's the, the least I can do…", I looked at the female officer. "How do I give this to her without touching?"

She gave me an odd look. "Push it across the table. Or get up and set it in front of her. If you lay any finger on her, this meeting is over."

Fucking bitch.

Getting up from my seat, I walked to the shelf and grabbed another bottle of water. Natsuki's eyes never left me as I carefully strode up to her, almost a foot away from her side and set the plastic bento box in front of her. Ripping off the plastic wrap for the utensil and setting it on the rice. Opening the water bottle and placing it right beside her.

Our eyes never broke away from each other.

"And…and." I walked back to my chair and put the bag on the table, slowly reaching in for dramatic effect. "A sweet treat for my sweet girl."

I lifted the parfait up from the wrapping of the gift bag and presented it to her. Natsuki squealed with delight, clapping her hands together once. "Ohh! Aw! Ah–Kazumaaah…", she began to choke and lifted a finger to wipe her eyelid. "Y-you know me so…so…"

She began to cry.

Every single fiber of my body, every muscle strung to my bones told me to grab her up and sprint down the hallway to freedom. Hail a taxi and race to the nearest airport. Get on the next immediate flight to America and change our names and hide out from the authorities forever, miserable and terrified but still together in our arms each and every night. Maybe we could never have children and maybe we could never own our own home and maybe we would never be free from the law, but our last breaths would be shared together at the very least.

But I had to stay in place. Or the meeting would be over.

"Nats, please. No. Don't–it's, it's okay. I'm here. I'm here," I tried to soothe her but I could feel my own voice begin to wobble. "I'm not going anywhere."

Hot tears streamed down her face. She howled with fear as her fingers dug into her chest, bunching up her jumpsuit. "I knoooowIknowIknowIknoooow…" Her chest heaved hard as her fingers grabbed the utensil and tried to eat but she ended up dropping it. "I j…I just want…you…"

"I want you to go."

My heart shattered. I felt myself lean against the table and then somehow manage to sit back down at my chair. I searched for the energy to speak.

"Wh…why?"

"Kazuma, I'm…never gonna get out of here. I did what I did and that's that. They're never gonna let us be f–be free…", she looked up at me with puffy red eyes. "I can't condemn you to this life."

"I'm not condemn–"

Her fists pounded the table. "Please, Kazuma! PLEEEASE!", she began to wail, screeching at me with bared fangs. "I DON'T WANT YOU TO GET HURT ANYMOOORE!" Her fists shook on the table as she thudded her forehead to it, almost smacking the bento box. "Just leave me to die here like I deserve to!"

I was silent.

Her voice lowered. "I love you so much...but please. Leave me to die."

I stayed silent. The female officer had a bemused look on her face and ceased typing.

Ever since I met her, that fateful day at the Literature Club…my life changed nothing short for the greater. Natsuki gave me a purpose in life, a reason to fight to see tomorrow, the pure and single truth in the world knowing that there was someone out there who loved me as much as I love them. Baking cupcakes, reading poems, going to conventions, holding hands, dancing in the dark. She gave me strength where I had none, light where I had darkness. I made the choice to kiss her the night of the Festival. I made the choice to run to her aide the night of the party. I could live to be a hundred and never, not even for a second, regret those acts.

But what choice would I make now?

"Nats…"

Her eyes lifted to meet mine again, as mucus ran down her nose and the tears continued to flow.

"You…do you know how strong you've made me?"

She stared.

"You are a force of nature unlike any other in the world. You have the power in you to move mountains, to…to raise up storms and to raise up armies from their graves. You are the most sincere and sweetest and most kind-hearted person I have ever met…and…there is nothing more that I want to do in this life than to carry that beauty within you onward. To spread and share it to others, so that others may be inspired by you…just as you inspire me."

She wiped the mucus away with her sleeve. "What are you saying?"

"I could live a thousand lifetimes and each one I want to spend waiting outside of these doors for you, until the end of time my love. You are my angel, my sunflower, my rock. That it does not matter what may happen to us tomorrow, that I want to spend every moment here and now that we have left on this Earth with you…as my wife."

She looks at me with a fierce seriousness. I stand up from my chair, take a deep breath and extend my hand out to her.

"Natsuki Tamura…will you marry me?"

The female officer interrupts. "Okay, that's enough." She closes the laptop and begins to stride towards Natsuki, cuffs already in hand.

But with lightning speed Natsuki dives under the table and throws it up towards her, the food and water spraying in all directions and the table knocking her down to the floor and crashing the podium down with her, pinning her there for a moment. Natsuki springs down low to the ground and then leaps forward into my open arms, landing a kiss on my cheek before we lock lips again and again. We're crying and laughing and holding each other tight, kissing our bruises and caressing our faces before the female officer begins to shout outside the hallway for help, that she's being attacked, but that doesn't matter as were rolling around on the ground in the smushed barbecue beef and rice and water puddles holding onto each other for dear life. We're shouting I do I do into our ears and soon a squad of cops flood into the room and begin to strike us with their batons, tearing us apart from each other and were both screaming our names at the top of our lungs at each other as I watch them drag the unconscious Nats by her arms and legs out the room, striking her with open palms and they're punching me in the ribs and dragging me down the hallway to the fire exit past those vending machines again. I'm snapping my teeth at them writhing and kicking as they throw the door open and I can feel them throw me down the concrete stairs and onto the sidewalk, smacking my face against the ground and causing blood to flow from my head.

But just as I fade to black on that sticky hot sidewalk the silver-haired older officer, with his nametag reading HAMADA, emerges from the top of the stairs to glare me down and spit with disgust towards me.

"Don't come back."

And slam the door shut.

...

Author's Note: If nobody has told you today that they love you, let it be known that I love you and I thank you all so much for reading Love and Literature. Be well, be good and stay tuned for the next update.