This Isn't a Meeting of Japan's Greatest Minds.

“I did join the writing-club after all.” Her lips curled up ever-so slightly. Man… For someone so mono-tone, she speaks more than enough… But I needed to hear that. I’d… never have… seen… that… g-glaring issue… We’re all learning everyday! Or something. “Now that you’re aware of what to look for, I hope revisions can go smoother.”

“R-right, thank you.” The two of them were practically on top of me—have they never heard of personal space? I scooted my seat to the right.

Even though I was spoon-fed how and what to revise, what about after! I still have no clue!? Am I supposed to f-f-f-figure that out on my own!? What Ohashi found would’ve taken me hundreds of hours! It makes sense if you really give it some thought—I’m a writer, not a reviser. They’re two very different things and more people don’t realize this.
“Makoto, are you daydreaming about something idiotic? Or perverted?” Fujioka snapped her fingers in my face.

“N-neither!”

A gentle, playful laugh escaped from the end of the table—Ohashi attempted in vain to hide it behind her hand.

“W-what’s so funny?” I asked.

“It’s nothing really… Just, you two are such good friends. I guess I’m a little jealous.”

“You’re jealous of me for being friends with Kiyotaka Makoto? Ohashi-san, are you feeling alright? Should we deliver you to the emergency care unit?” Fujioka’s tone was a bit frantic—was she genuinely concerned by Ohashi’s comment!?

“I’m fine. But really, you two don’t hold back anything towards each other, yet, won’t give a second thought to helping each other.”

“Hm, that’s a bold assumption, Ohashi-san. First assuming that him and I are friends, then assuming if he’d ask me to **** his **** and ****** ** ** until ** **** and then **** *** ** *** ****... Then you’d be mistaken.”

Once again we were sat on a curb, this time outside the library.

“It was a bit unnecessary to say all that, Fujioka.” I side-eyed her with a cocked eyebrow.

“Hmhmhm… I was simply proving a point. I believe it was necessary.”

Ohashi was the first to stand up. My illustrator and I directed our attention to her. “I hope you understand my point though, Fujioka-senpai. I know you’ll make jokes, but it’s true. I have to go, it’s about dinner time. I’ll see you two at club Monday.” As Ohashi turned, her head, which had been blocking the low-hanging sun, sent a wave through her skirt, and allowed light to spill around her silhouette and momentarily blind us.

“I’ll see you Monday, Fujioka.”

“Mm, yes, I suppose so.” She unlocked her apartment building’s door. “And please remember, not counting today, you have fourteen days. Please plan accordingly.”

“I will, I will, I… know what I need to revise.”

She poked her head back out. “Why did you hesitate?”

“B-because I was thinking about revisions, of course!”

She sighed with a disapproving head-shake. “For the sake of your writing club.” We shared one last glance, then disappeared into our respective apartments. I suppose I may be making this sound a bit more dramatic than it is. I know in about a minute I’ll probably end up having another conversation with her through our windows.

As I entered the Kiyotaka—let me stress that KIYOTAKA family apartment for people of the KIYOTAKA family, a few strange shoe’s caught my attention in the entryway.

Case one: Black high heels and a box for a playboy bunny costume.

Case two: Traditional Geta. (wooden sandals)

Case three: Men’s shoes I don’t recognize.

Case four: An extra pair of my school’s women’s indoor slippers.

Now let me tell you a joke. A playboy bunny, a Geisha, a stranger, and a high schooler all break into your apartment. That’s it, that’s the joke. Think it was funny? No. Exactly. THIS AIN’T FUNNY!

“Why can’t I have a moment of peace…” My voice wavered, I was on the verge of tears.

I entered the living room where my mother was happily reading a novel. “Oh, dear, your friends are here. They’re all in your room.”

“I know mom… I know…”

I slowly turned the door-knob and I’ll admit, I was expecting no surprises whatsoever, however! There was a singular one.

Sitting around my small table was a random adult woman dressed as a Geisha, Sayuri and her b-b-b-b-friend, as well as Yoshika dressed as a high school boy. Standing with her back towards me was the lovely Kaoru in a playboy bunny outfit. What surprised me was that it wasn't Kaoru dressed as a Geisha—and they hadn’t hired a bunny-cosplayer.

“Ah! Makoto! Just in time!” Kaoru didn’t even bother to turn towards me. She raised a conductor’s stick and pointed to an empty spot on the floor.

Yeah… I’m not dealing with this…

“Untie me! K-Kaoru w-we aren’t doing this aga—” The sticky-rough texture of duct tape covered my lips, stifling my complaints. She backed away from me and hit a hands-on-her-hips pose. “You’re as much part of this as anyone in this room.” I was trying my damndest to look anywhere but her—the outfit she wore was a bit… ahh… uhmmm… mmmm… well… “AND YES! The Geisha is important! I can assure you.”

That’s not my concern! Why’re you dressed like that!?