"I loosely heard prayers on your first album truly
Lucy don't mind 'cause at the end of the day you'll pursue me
Lucy go get it, Lucy not timid, Lucy up front
Lucy got paper work on top of paper work
I want you to know that Lucy got you, all your life I watched you
And now you all grown up then sign this contract if that's possible"
- Kendrick Lamar, For Sale? (Interlude)
///
4 / 15 / 2016
Heard people like him get the worst treatment of them all, in prison.
Murderers and thieves and all other kinds of sickos lie behind bars, but some of them have daughters. Some of them have families. Most of them have some standards. Beating up a kiddie-rapist is one way to relieve stress, I suppose. I can see it now.
Kamoshida getting battered in his cell, kicked around in the courtyard. Bones broken, paralyzed to the point of pissing and drinking through a straw. Crying every night, the remorse and the daily beatings taking their toll.
I'll never have the kind of satisfaction I had with Kamoshida's Palace. That visceral, gut-wrenching feeling of robbing all his power away. Seeing Takamaki put the gun to his head gave me a high no other drug could. Just thinking of that fear in his eyes, the way he sobbed and begged for forgiveness. I could've stood there and watched it forever, God be willing.
Yet.
In the end. For all my bluster towards Sakamoto and Yoshizawa, something's nagging at me.
"I'm home."
"Welcome back-what happened to you?" Maruki drops his papers and runs over to me, examining the bruise on my cheek.
"I tripped on the way home."
Pulls a skeptical kinda pout, "Do you really expect me to just accept that?"
"No. I don't. But it's the truth."
"You're not being bullied at school, are you?"
I chuckle, "Hardly."
Maruki sighs, "What exactly happened...?"
"I'd like to have a counselling session with you."
"What?"
"I've been pretty stressed out lately."
"I...I can see that," he says, suddenly rummaging throughout his cupboards. "Just give me a second here..."
"It isn't that bad, you don't have to-"
"Just accept the help." He comes back with a roll of bandages, a piece of cotton, and topical antibiotics. "Sit down at the table."
Reluctantly, I pull up a seat and sit myself down. "I know I haven't been very forthright with you. Sorry to drag you into my problems."
"They assigned me to help you. It's no hardship. After this, I'll be cooking some beef teriyaki."
"I'm not feeling particularly hungry tonight-"
"Eat, you're skin and bones."
"I ate out just a bit earlier with," a friend? "an acquaintance."
"At Big Bang Burger, I'm assuming?"
"How'd you know?"
"It was a guess. One of the only major restaurants in the vicinity. Besides, you have sesame seeds on the edge of your mouth. Let me make you some real food. We can talk after you've settled."
Takes me a lot more effort than I think it should just to say, "Thank you."
.
.
.
Dinner ends at about eight PM and Maruki has me sat down on the couch of his living room. He's sitting on a stool, across from me. Pen and paper in his hands.
"Just going to ask you a few questions. The answers, though, depend on you. I won't pressure you. You control the flow of this conversation."
"Do I really?"
"Yes, you do. We'll discuss whatever you'd like. If there's nothing...then we can just talk about our day, I suppose. Or not talk at all. It's all up to you."
"Else I be thrown into some juvie rehab center or something."
"That's true."
"Do you think I'm crazy?"
"I never thought you were."
I chuckle, "Then why'd the judges say I needed therapy?"
"First off, that's a misconception. Many times, people who go to therapy can't be called crazy at all. Having a mental disorder doesn't automatically categorize them as insane. Sometimes people who take therapy aren't even diagnosed with a disorder at all; they're just viciously overwhelmed, and the session is a way to get themselves reoriented. Whether you've been diagnosed with something or not, therapy's a helpful and healthy way for people to work through their emotions and stresses. But back to the point—I did read up on your case. No, I don't think you're crazy. I do think, however, that what had happened—"
"Please don't bring up Kana."
"Okay. I won't say a word about her."
"I'm willing to talk about Shido. But not Kana."
"I promise."
"Good."
"Why did you assume I'd think you were crazy?"
"You must have read the report."
"I can't determine your state of mind unless you tell me what it was like."
"My state of mind. You really wanna know what it was like?"
"I'm ready to listen, if you're ready to share."
"Honestly? There's something wrong with me."
"Why do you think so?"
"I just snapped. I wasn't thinking straight. The second I saw him I wanted him to...," die? " get away from them. I needed to stop him somehow and I just let myself go. I completely lost all self-control."
"You wanted to protect them."
My left hand begins shaking as I clear my throat, "No. No. I don't know if that's what I wanted, not entirely."
"I mean, it would make sense," Maruki shrugs. "Your girlfriend and her mother were being harassed. Anyone would be furious enough that they'd want to try and stop it."
She gave me the same look that Sakamoto and Yoshizawa had given me earlier in today. "I wanted to punish him."
"That's what you were thinking?" he asks. "The whole time?"
"I don't know."
"Can you elaborate?"
"I wanted to save them. He'd already gotten his hands on them by this point and I wanted to stop him before he'd have been able to do anything more. But at the same time, I saw what he was doing and I hated him, I hated him so much a part of me thinks that I hated him more than I wanted to protect them. If I actually wanted to protect them, then maybe I wouldn't have gone so far."
"Or maybe it's because you wanted to protect them that you did what you did. That's not to say it's an excuse; you still violently assaulted a man to near-death in the middle of the street. But still. I want to give you some credit here."
I make a hhhh noise, teeth chattering a little, "I don't think I deserve credit."
"Why not?"
I close my eyes and sigh, "It felt good."
"It felt good?"
And I glare at him, I glare at his startled expression and I write out, "It felt like a dream, like I was somewhere else watching it happen."
"Like you were somewhere else? Can you explain what that…I don't know, what you experienced?"
A dull buzzing sensation hits me in the brain at this moment. I'm taken all the way back to that night.
"It was like I was watching myself, from a cloud up in the sky. Like I was so far away from it all, too far away to stop myself. But even now, it's like...I think even if I were there, I wouldn't have stopped myself at all."
"In my view it can be chalked up to stress; in the heat of the moment you disassociated. It's not an abnormal phenomenon. Unless this has happened before?"
And I let myself think. I think really firmly. I disregard all thought of Kana and Shido, ignore that time I blacked out shortly after Sakamoto summoned Blackbeard for the first time. "I think this did happen once before."
"When?"
"When my mother died. I felt...angry. I felt sad. Both the same time."
"Angry and sad. Why angry?"
"Mom and Dad conceived me out of wedlock. Their parents were old fashioned, so they viewed them and me with shame."
"Oh."
"So they didn't even visit Mom when she was sick, didn't call back or message them even once cuz I'm a bastard and I hated them, I hated them so much I wanted to find them and make them know how much I hated them-"
"Calm down," he tells me, "you're shaking."
I am. I only realize it after he's put a hand on my shoulder.
I seethe, I grit my teeth and breathe heavy as my gravelly voice bursts out, "I-I wanted to-"
"Don't talk," he hands me a glass of water, "please. Don't push yourself."
I drink the glass. After I finish, he raises his brow at me. "Do you want to continue, or should we reschedule-?"
"I hated them. But Mom told me she loved me anyway."
"Do you mind telling me exactly what she said?"
My lips tremble a little and I begin laughing, "You are everything I could have ever wanted my son to be."
He smiles a little sadly. "That's beautiful."
"Then my head turned numb or something, I dunno. I felt and heard a buzzing noise. Then it was like I was looking down on myself, grasping my Mom's hand . It didn't feel weird at all. T here was no transition. It just happened. It only stopped when Dad walked in."
"So…you seem to dissociate in times of stress."
"Isn't that a little cause for concern?"
"It's not uncommon for people to dissociate when extremely stressed out, or when faced with something traumatic. Which…considering the circumstances behind both instances you've mentioned, no one could begrudge you for that."
"Pretty sure that's a sign I've got something wrong with me."
"Dissociative disorder does exist. It's also a symptom of anxiety. But I think I'd like to trace back around to what you'd said previously. While you dissociated when it came to Shido…you said you felt good?"
"I only realized how I felt afterwards. While I was being interrogated I remembered what I'd done to Shido and how good it felt. I wanted to punish him. I needed him to stay down."
"Do you regret it?"
"No. Even up to now."
"It scares you. That you don't regret it."
I exhale then, "Most of me doesn't regret it. But every time I think back on it, I feel like a monster."
"I don't think you are."
"What would you have done?"
He takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes. Then he clears his throat. "Do you mind if I share a personal experience?"
I narrow my eyes at him, "Go ahead."
He smiles a little, "My girlfriend…for a long time, she was stuck in a catatonic depression."
I don't write. I just look at him, letting him continue.
"Her name was Rumi. She and I, we…," he purses his lips. "We knew each other for the longest time. Our friends would always tease us for being high school sweethearts. We were together all the way into our sophomore year in college. But...partway through the year, her parents were killed. Right in front of her eyes."
My own eyes widen, "That's horrible."
"A burglar had broken into their house in the dead of night—it all happened so fast. Rumi was traumatized, too far gone for anyone to help her. Didn't even look at me, wouldn't respond to me. Even if I was speaking directly to her and sat right next to her. And a part of me—a really, really big part of me—for the longest time, wanted to find the people responsible and bring them to justice."
"Were they ever found?"
"Yes. But it had taken a while. The longer the search took, the more furious I became. There was a time where I wanted nothing more than to find them and get revenge. For my girlfriend, her parents…myself. I was drowning in anger. But I had to tend to Rumi as well. So when push came to shove, I decided I'd put her first, above all else."
"How is she now?"
"She's recovered. Inasmuch as she could. But we've broken up."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"I'm not," he smiles. "She's much, much happier now. And in the end, that's all that matters to me. But I told you this because I want you to know…that I've been where you were. And I thought up much of the same things you did. I wanted to punish them for what they did to my girlfriend and her parents. But I felt the way I did in the first place because I loved Rumi that much, and couldn't stand what they did to her. Much of the same can be said about you."
I chuckle at him, "I highly doubt you'd bash their skulls in concrete and feel good about it after the fact. That's not you."
He smirks, though not without wincing, "You never know what you'll do unless you're thrown out there, in the thick of it, and you have to make a decision."
"And that's why you think I'm not a monster?"
"I think that you've got many unresolved feelings and issues that need to be addressed. But no, I don't think you're a monster. I do think, however, that unless we talk about these things, it'll cause you trouble later down the line."
I smirk, "Look how much trouble I'm in now."
"Hikawa-kun, you put yourself down a lot."
"Don't you think I should?"
"No. This is about helping you come to terms with yourself. All aspects of yourself, for good and for ill."
"I'm a selfish asshole."
"Why do you think so?"
"Kana wanted me to help her with her studies, and I only decided to help her after she revealed to me she had an illegitimate child."
"So, you could relate."
"Yeah. But that's me in a microcosm, only get involved when you're invested or can relate to the situation. Selfish asshole."
"I wouldn't say you're selfish. You're self-centered."
I narrow my eyes at him, "What's the difference?"
"You wanted to help her because you could relate to her circumstances. And that night, with Shido, you wanted to save her because she was special to you. But you're not selfish—if you were, you wouldn't have tried to save her at all. You'd have just run away and waited out the storm."
Something in me makes me laugh, but it comes out as guttural noises that sound like snarls and goddamn, it hurts. "I didn't save her. Not even in the slightest."
"Do you want to talk about her now, or…?"
To hell with it. "I couldn't help her at all. Not with her mother. Not with her daughter. I'm a failure."
"I want you to know that you did everything you could-"
"I tried so goddamned hard, it didn't work and I made it worse."
"What did you do?"
God help me I've gotta let this out somehow, I have to let someone know what I've done, even if they don't believe me— "I could've saved her, I tried to save her but it didn't work, and now because of me she's dead, she's dead and there's shit all I can do about it."
"You can't blame yourself for her death."
And I groan at him while razors open up in my throat, "I should."
"She made her choice," he tells me, leaning closer. "Look at me, Kazuya. There was nothing you could've done."
He's wrong, of course. In fact, things might've been better if I'd done literally nothing. I chose to dive into her Palace. I chose to destroy that creature that wore her skin.
I chose it all.
He leans back in his seat. "What did you try to do?"
What the hell am I doing? "You won't get it," I clutch my head and hang it low. "Nobody-no one can know."
"Do you wish you could forget her?"
And I tear myself up to face him. "Wha-?"
"If you had the choice. Would you forget her?"
I shake my head, "Things would've been better off if she'd never met me."
"But would you ever want to forget her?"
"No."
"No?"
"I never want to forget her. If I do, she died for nothing."
"Why? The memories are causing you so much grief and pain."
I nearly rise up out of my chair there and then. But I look him right in the eyes.
"If I forget her—" I say, with a thorny voice, "—she died for nothing."
And he closes his eyes. "I'm sorry."
Kamoshida was a sick bastard who deluded himself into thinking he was some kinda King, just so that he'd never need to feel the guilt gnawing at his heart.
But Yoshizawa was absolutely right.
We still had time. Kamoshida would've spread his rumors about us around, but they'd have likely been shut up if he were to admit his crimes. Delinquent kids being assholes matters less than teachers being serial rapists. Shujin's PR team and the teachers'd likely be dealing with media blowback, more than they could possibly care about the criminal transfer and his partners in crime.
In the end, the reason I barged into his Palace and threatened his life had nothing to do with running short of time, or wanting to get rid of a social cancer as fast as possible.
It had everything to do with me being free of all the Vortex World sooner rather than later.
And because of that...I've done virtually everything I promised Kana I'd never do again, up to and including maybe killing another Palace Ruler. All in my first week of school.
"I think I'd rather continue this conversation another time," I say to Maruki.
He gets up off his seat and lays a hand on my shoulder, "You should get some rest tonight. Care for some cookies before bed? Bought them from a Triple Seven a few hours ago."
I shake my head, "No, thank you."
"Alright, then."
"I'm very grateful you were willing to listen." Despite you being mandated by court.
He just smiles warmly, "My doors are always open."
.
.
.
All men should be free to say and do and live as they please. But none of us is free, not really. Even if we've got all the money and power and prestige in the world, we're still trapped by ourselves. I didn't know what that meant until earlier this year.
We're willing to remove others' freedoms, just to have a chance to live our lives in any way we see fit. Is that the freedom I wanted? Yes, yes, I suppose that is. That's what I wanted, from the beginning. And at the end of the day, I guess I still want it. But what does the world get out of that? People like Kamoshida. And people like me.
Seeing Kamoshida in his own Palace, pissing himself and bawling like a baby, I didn't really give a damn if anybody was free or not. He found his freedom in girls and gold medals and blind words of praise from people that didn't even really care about him.
I found my freedom in punishment.
"The ideal is beautiful," the man in the purple suit says to me, "precisely because it's often too good to be true. Isn't it, Emancipator?"
It's a nice little idea, to think of the plucky rebels using their wit and intelligence to rail against an irredeemable and destructive establishment. But then you take a look at the 20th century.
The ideal is crushed when you read of Robespierre ordering the death of his own allies the second he believed they stood in opposition to him. Lenin's Bolsheviks seizing power, and painting the atrocities they committed thereafter as necessities to their vision. Stalin justifying the deaths of millions with the notion that they stole from the people and were class enemies. The Khmer Rouge killing so many perceived enemies of the state that the skulls of their victims can fill up a house.
You read these things and you wonder how they could hate so many people so easily.
Yoshizawa & Sakamoto fought, as hard as they could, to ensure the minimum probability of Kamoshida dying from a change of heart. As much as they believed he needed to be stopped, and as willing as they were to risk his life, they remained moral enough to want him alive, to answer for his crimes as much as possible.
But I just wanted him gone. And I wanted him gone because I'd never be able to walk the halls of that school, knowing someone like him remained unpunished. I wanted him gone so badly I enabled a girl mourning the loss of her best friend to become just as much of a monster as I am.
And my only regret, really, is that he didn't die.
"You don't regret how you've driven away those who stood with you against Asmodeus?"
No. I shouldn't have been a condescending prick towards them. But they shouldn't waste their time on me. They've likely developed Kingdoms just from proximity to my own toxic behavior.
"I doubt it. But you'll just have to check for sure with the Navigator."
You doubt it?
"If they bore Kingdoms, they would have all agreed to your plan in a heartbeat. Their Candelabrums would manifest out of a desire to steal Suguru Kamoshida's Treasure. Yet they chose restraint. Even the girl who lost her friend hesitated to kill him, when the time came. At the end of the day, they would have much rather settled things without causing him so much harm that he would kill himself."
Despite what they've said previously.
"Men often say things without fully understanding what their statements entail."
So they likely have no Kingdoms, nor Candelabrums.
"I'd wager, no. Whatever desire they bear in their heart, whether for justice or revenge, is tempered by their willingness to remain true to their morals."
We're all so fickle. We say we want something and then turn our backs the second we decide it's too much effort.
"In all fairness, many people don't choose what they desire. After all; you didn't choose to fall in love with that Kana girl, did you? In your youth, you didn't even choose to become so attracted to ideas of self-determination. Your desires then grabbed ahold of you without your conscious knowledge. But once you achieved a direct understanding of them, you chose to enshrine them within your heart. And even now, after everything that's happened, they remain there still."
You say you're me.
"Only because it's true."
Doesn't that mean, if you're telling me these things, I'm making up the answers to my own questions?
"Or it could mean you had the answers inside of you all along. Why didn't you kill him, when you had the chance? There were multiple times you could have done so, easily."
Because if I did then Yoshizawa and Sakamoto would hound me for the rest of my life about how I killed him, when I warned them of all the risks.
But that's another lie.
It's because every time I'd step into his Palace I'd remember Kana. I'd remember seeing that seven-headed beast that she said was me. The hundreds of walking dead in the nuclear holocaust.
I'd remember holding her in my arms. How cold she'd been. The last words she'd spoken to me. I'd see her, in the corners of my room or in the crevices of my brain. She makes me remember what I did to her. Telling me that if I ever were to repeat what I did to her, to anybody else, I'll keep seeing her until the day I die.
That I'll never be free of what I've done.
That's why, whatever happens to Kamoshida, I'll forget that you ever existed and live my goddamned life as far away from this Vortex World shit as possible. I'll die lonely and unremembered and nobody's gonna attend my funeral. I'll burn in Hell forever for my sins and everything you want me to be will fade to nothing.
And you'll find another stupid piece of shit to be your stooge.
"Remember that I came to you because you called me. You make such grandiose promises, but words mean nothing. Only the soul is everlasting. And like it or not, yours is mine. For thou art I, and I am thou."
.
.
.
4 / 22 / 2016
Kamoshida called in sick after that day, cited health issues. Hasn't been seen since.
Until today. From the very same place Shiho Suzui had jumped from, a week ago. With a megaphone.
"I HAVE REPEATEDLY DONE THINGS THAT WERE UNBECOMING OF A TEACHER!!!"
Everybody scampers off to the windows and we see him, we see him standing right on the edge of the roof. His eyes are manic and bloodshot, he's sweating profusely; he's not wearing any gym uniform or teacher's clothes, just a shitty wifebeater and white boxers. He looks like every time he's tried to sleep the past week nightmares would wake him up.
The whole crowd clamors in curiosity, many whipping out their phones and wondering what the hell's going on. Even the teachers, who had in the past called for the students to remain seated, were stuck mouth agape, not knowing what they could possibly do next.
"VERBALLY ABUSING STUDENTS, PHYSICALLY ABUSING MY TEAM, AND SEXUALLY HARASSING FEMALE STUDENTS! I AM THE REASON SHIHO SUZUI TRIED TO KILL HERSELF!!!"
I see Sakamoto in the crowd, looks like he's gotten physically ill, like he doesn't wanna be anywhere near here, but Takamaki on the other hand bears no emotion whatsoever. No fear or sadness or rage. Nothing simmering beneath her hollow eyes.
"I THOUGHT OF THIS SCHOOL AS MY OWN CASTLE!!!" he shouts, getting audibly shaken to the point where his voice cracks. "THERE WERE STUDENTS I SENTENCED TO EXPULSION, SIMPLY BECAUSE I DIDN'T LIKE THEM!!! I AM TRULY SORRY FOR PUTTING INNOCENT YOUTHS THROUGH SUCH HORRIBLE ACTS AND I--" tears pour down his eyes suddenly, gushing down relentlessly, "--I know of only one way to atone for what I've done."
Unlike Shiho Suzui, he falls headfirst.
It's chaos then as the whole school runs amok with horror and laughter and shock and fear, everyone rushing to the courtyard after a pool of blood forms beneath Kamoshida's cracked skull. Sakamoto keeps his eyes on the window and looks like he can't even breathe. Takamaki retains that dull, impassive expression, even as she marches back to the classroom.
I can't believe it.
Even when he tries to kill himself, he has to announce it to everyone.
.
.
.
5 / 2 / 2016
Story broke out after that day, all over the news: Gym Teacher Attempts Suicide Atop School Roof.
"Olympic medalist Suguru Kamoshida leapt off the roof of Shujin Academy, loudly confessing that he had physically and sexually abused several students under his..."
Kids looking for cheap views uploaded the footage of Kamoshida jumping off online. His confession caused ripples for Shujin's PR. Principal and teachers alike have been struggling, the past week, trying to manage all the horrible press slamming them with questions surrounding Kamoshida's inappropriate conduct.
It was schizophrenic at first. Fans of Kamoshida talked about how much of an inspiration he was to them. Got to the point some sort of defense squad formed. Saying he was wrongfully accused, that everyone had been lying, that he couldn't be responsible for such a crime; the man had confessed, but they were still trying to defend him.
Then larger groups cropped up out of the woodwork. Talking about Kamoshida being a monster. That he should've killed himself. That he had to suffer the same way he'd made others suffer. Other groups still viewed the situation with more than a little levity, ridiculing him for seeking out teenagers. For an Olympic medalist, he must've not had a lot of stamina in bed.
People who'd worked with Kamoshida started talking; mostly women, of course. They say he'd always been a creep, that he always lingered around them and made them feel so uncomfortable. But none of them had spoken up before because of who he was, because of his stature in society, and somehow that's supposed to make us viewers sympathize.
Some of Kamoshida's teammates got interviewed as well; some talked about how shocked they were that this information's come forward, that they'd never expected someone like him to have fallen to such depths. They all condemned him, they all disowned him, they all did the predictable celebrity thing and never ever tried to even remotely sound like they were ever friends with the guy.
Then Shujin removed his info from their site. The rumors continued to spread, but the principal didn't try to quell them anymore, figuring to just let them talk their mouths off. Soon the news comes into Shujin, asked for interviews. Several girls from the volleyball team, from the women's basketball team, from basically every PE subject under Kamoshida come clean. That it had been scary at times to be around him, that he would be so forward, that he would be so touchy-feely. Then the men came in, with their bruises and bandages, talking about how Kamoshida routinely abused them, put them through Hell every training session.
They all gave the same excuse. They were scared. Kamoshida could've ruined their lives. What could they have done?
Not long after that, someone new appeared. Said she'd recognized Kamoshida's face in the news. Says that he'd assaulted her when she was just a teenager, and that she's lived with the trauma for all these years. Her name is Aiko Yamamoto. But her name's not important. What is important is the fact that she remembered Kamoshida and his friends standing over her in an alleyway, she remembered clutching herself, holding herself and her torn clothes tight, Kamoshida drunk and dazed and laughing over her withered and hollowed body.
That's the story that sealed the deal, then and there.
It all happened in just a few weeks.
I haven't see Yoshizawa very often recently, but whenever I would she'd look half-dead. Sakamoto's doing even worse, apparently, but we'll get to that later.
Takamaki and I proceed to the same rooftop he'd jumped from. Staying behind the fencing, of course. Only place we could chat undisturbed.
Unfortunately for Kobayakawa it's broken on the door here, too.
We stay under the canopy, at each other's side.
"Honestly kind of surprised you held yourself back against him, way back when. I'd have just shot him and left it there. That said...how the hell's he not dead?" I ask her, biting down on some yakisoba.
She shrugs, "Doctors said he's strong, apparently. Rumor has it, though, he's completely paralyzed from the neck down. If he ever wakes up, he'll only ever be able to communicate by blinking."
I whistle, "You alright with that?"
She swallows, "I wanted him to apologize himself. Wanted him to live the rest of his life grovelling for forgiveness. I guess I believe in fates worse than death. And lo and behold..."
"Sucks to be him."
"I don't feel any different," she says suddenly. "Shiho's still in a coma, and Kamoshida's gonna be a cripple for the rest of his life, and I don't feel the slightest bit different."
Takes me a while to answer her back, "Neither do I."
She winces, clutching at her shoulders, "Ryuji feels terrible. He's had to go to the nurse's multiple times. I saw him earlier this week, he looked like he'd been crying for hours."
"Course he would. He's squeamish."
"But his heart's in the right place. I forgot to thank you, back then."
"For what? You broke the Treasure."
"If it wasn't for all three of you, Kamoshida'd still be here. You're the only person I can really thank. Pretty sure Yoshizawa feels as horrible about it as Ryuji does. Whatever your reasons were for helping stop him...thank you. I couldn't have done it without you."
I nod, "Same."
"If Shiho ever wakes up, I'll apologize to her. Whether she forgives me or not...I'll make clear how sorry I am I let things get as far as they did. I'll wait for her every day. And if she wants me out of her life, then I'll just have to accept it."
"If anybody deserves to walk out of this with their head high, it's her," I shake my head.
"What're you gonna do?"
"Me?"
"Rumors are going around that we four threatened him with violence. Or his family. Coerced him into jumping off the roof."
"Course they are." Unfortunate that Yoshizawa has to deal with this shit, too. But them's the breaks.
"So what'll you do?"
"Honestly?" I scratch my chin. "Find a job, I guess. I'm just glad I never have to go into Palaces again."
She breathes, "Ditto."
And we just stand there, leaning against the wall. I give her a piece of bread and she bites it down, as we watch the sun set on this horrible school that's gotten just a little more tolerable to walk in.
I feel a bit of a giggle rising up, and Takamaki notices, "What's up?"
"Just a joke I heard once," I say, thinking of Kamoshida. "You wouldn't like it."
"Go ahead. Think we could all use a joke every now and again."
"...what's the hardest part of a vegetable to--?"
Suddenly the door shuffles open.
The first thing I notice is her eyes. Auburn-colored, they would become a fierce red in the light of the sun. Brown hair, in a bob cut, with blunt bangs. Black halter vest, over a long-sleeve white turtleneck-shirt. Not wearing the standard Shujin blazer, strangely enough. She turns to us, and speaks like we're already suspects: "This place is off-limits, you know."
More subtle about it than Kamoshida, but she talks like she's hot shit. You'd get the feeling she speaks to everyone this way.
"We're done here," Takamaki says, pulling herself away from the wall.
New girl keeps talking. "The infamous transfer student and the center of gossip, meeting up on the roof of the school for a private conversation. Interesting combination, if I do say so."
Takamaki hotly whispers, "Great way to start a conversation..."
"By the way...," she clasps her hands daintily, shuffling her weight to one leg as she faces me. "It seems you got to know Mr. Kamoshida pretty well."
Can't resist smirking. "Knew just about as much as the next guy."
"He's only been here a week and a half, you know," Takamaki grunts, standing between me and her.
Her eyes pierce beyond Takamaki's, into mine. "I heard Mr. Kamoshida used a volleyball team member to spread details of your past record. Don't you hate him? Mr. Kamoshida, I mean."
"Seen the news lately? Lots of people hate him."
"True. But in the days leading up to his suicide attempt, rumor has it he ended up in a confrontation with a couple of students. Your name pops up the most frequently. Kazuya Hikawa."
Not even Sakamoto's. Takamaki interjects, "Doesn't the student council president have anything better to do with her time?"
Student council. Explains some things.
"I don't mean to offend. Many students have been shaken up by what happened to Mr. Kamoshida. The rumors about his sordid interactions with you aren't going to go away either..."
Suddenly I step in, before Takamaki can make another quip. "It's true that I didn't like the guy. Something off in the way he carried himself. But, hell. I didn't think he was that bad."
Looks a little somber as she says, "True. Nobody had. Until it was too late."
"Always unfortunate to catch wind of something horrible way too late for your own good. Isn't it, Miss Student Council President?"
Takamaki looks at me like I'm fucking crazy.
President's body language lets nothing show. But her eyes tell me so much.
"At least try to understand my position. The school is still reeling from public backlash concerning Kamoshida's suicide attempts, as well as his...confessions of impropriety. It's a very trying time for us all." Suddenly she shifts back into prim and proper and dignified, running her hand lightly against some hair behind her ear. "Ah, yes. By the way. It's been decided this place will be closed off due to the incidents. Can't have a constant stream of people coming up here without permission, after all. I'm sorry to interrupt you."
Turns away and walks back down the stairs without even looking back. Her confidence is something to admire. Her smugness on the other hand reminds me of me.
So there's a good chance I'd be better off avoiding her.
"What was that about...?"
"She's onto us," I sigh. "But, well. Not like Kamoshida can say anything about it now. Though we should be cautious. She's sharp."
"Her name's Makoto Niijima. Brown-noses teachers like their asses are her air supply. And yes, she is sharp. Gets aces on every exam."
Makoto Niijima. "Guess we'll just have to lay low for a while. Aren't exams coming up, too?"
Her eyes widen. "Forgot about those..."
"Best to just keep our heads down and study."
"Right."
We head down the stairs and go our separate ways once we leave the school grounds. I think about heading into Shibuya to look for some part-time jobs. I don't know what will happen next. I don't know why a droning noise pops through my ears again as I walk through the city.
I don't know that this Makoto Niijima will be the woman I'll end up hating more than anyone else in this world.
.
.
.
.
.
.
NoRoleModelz Chapter Notes: Tune in next time for Kazuya's attempts to get a job.