The Snake King's Game

I retreated to the living room, where the rest of the group was currently deciding on a game to play. So somehow, out of all possibilities, we’ve landed in this timeline. I mean, they’ll be here until the rain stops, so let’s just pray the rain stops quickly.

“Iwasaki-kun, what’s up?” Sato looked at me with mild confusion. “Looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“A ghost would be fine,” I replied lazily, earning some confused gazes from Lafon and Watson. Their confusion was replaced with concern as the three visitors made their way to the living room. Yamada greeted and introduced themselves once more, apologizing for the short notice and circumstances, before excusing himself to meet up with Shimada. That left Yoshino and Hayashi, who seemed more than content with joining the group’s activities.

The thin veil of tension hung in the air as the group settled and resumed its debate on what game to play.

“Now that there are eight of us…which card game could we play then?”

“It’s tough to play with that many people…anyone brought their game console?”

“No…”

“How about King’s Game?” Yoshino asked innocently.

“King’s Game? What’s that?”

Yoshino nodded. “We take turns drawing lots…or sticks with numbers on them. One of the sticks has a crown, denoting the king. That person’s the king of the round, and can give out an order based on the numbers drawn.” He paused for a second. “For example, the king can say that number 3 has to arm wrestle number 5, and whoever drew those numbers follow suit.” The group listened on with increasing curiosity.

“Someone mention King’s Game?” Shimada popped his head out from around the corner. “That’s a great one! We got chopsticks with numbers we use for it all the time, let me get them for ya!”

As the game decision was finalized, I sat with mild trepidation growing in my mind. King’s Game…seems innocuous, sure, there’s the off-chance a weird order is made, but the randomness of the numbers makes it impossible to target someone.

I sighed as Shimada came back with the chopsticks, each with a number from 1 to 10, except one with a crown on it. Yoshino sets three sticks aside, hiding the numbers in the cup that Shimada had also brought, shaking it around. As he continued, Shimada left to go upstairs, where the upperclassmen had retreated to for their own hangout.

“Alright, everyone choose a chopstick, and close your eyes; when we pull them out, make sure to hide it so only you can see what number you get.”

Everyone follows his instructions. “Ready, go!” We pulled the sticks, each of us checking what number we got. I looked at mine, reading two.

“The king can say they’re king, and they’re free to give an order.”

“I got king!” Sato shouted with glee, showing her chopstick with a crown. “So…are there any rules on what I say?”

I chimed in. “Well, I guess the obvious stuff like nothing illegal or dangerous…I think only Watson-san’s old enough to drink now, so that’s off the table.”

Lafon nodded. “And nothing too physical. We’re friends,” she paused, “so let’s not make it weird.”

“Okay!” Sato cheered. “So…number five and two have to run around the room and act like chickens!”

Act like a chicken?! I looked at Sato incredulously as I realized I had to commit to this embarrassing act.

I got up, seeing who my unfortunate partner in this awkward chicken dance was.

With an annoyed look plastered on her face, Lafon rose to her feet.

“Serina. There will be…consequences,” Lafon deadpanned, before starting the act. “Bawk.”

I did the same, and after thirty seconds of laughter, we returned, redrew sticks, and started the next round.

“Number three has to say their greatest fear!”

“Greatest fear,” one of Watson’s classmates answered, pondering a bit. “Maybe struck by lightning-”

Krrack!

The sound of thunder jolted the room, causing her to jump out of her seated position in a frightened trance, hugging her friend to her left.

“Eep!” she squirmed, as the group settled down and started giggling.

“What are you, a cat?” Lafon jeered, and the girl laughed along after settling herself down.

“Maybe, I’m just scared of it!”

Next round…

“Number 1 and 3–thumb war!” Watson cheered. As Sato and Hayashi entered the center, Watson MC’d the event like a fighting match. “Serina vs. Hayashi-kun—who will win!?” The two engaged in a thumb-war. While Hayashi’s physical prowess was formidable, Sato’s nimble fingers, from years of tinkering with her engineering marvels, seemed to gain the mechanical advantage as she pinned her thumb on top of his, declaring victory. The crowd cheered as Sato triumphantly stood and showboated.

***

“Finally, I’m king!” Hayashi exclaimed. It had been at least ten or so rounds, and the group was well-accustomed to the rules and the enjoyment.

“So…” Hayashi thought, glancing to his left and right. “Let’s see…number four, tell the group a wild story from high school!”

Wild story, huh. As I wondered who the unlucky storyteller was, Yoshino sighed and cleared his throat, revealing he was number 4, moving his hands from his lap to gesture.

“Welp, guess it’s story time,” he admitted. “High school…I suppose I’ll go with this one, Kenji.” He took a breath in, recounting his tale. “Third year…or senior year for everyone, I was the lead editor of the school’s newspaper, so whenever I receive a lead for a wild front page headline, I have to follow it. Well, I get this one tip of this breaking news to pick up–” he dramatically moves his hands “a school fight, not to mention, the student council’s top two going at each other.”

While the group leaned in to listen to the tale, I froze in place. As he said those words, my stomach twisted into knots. How’s that a wild story for you? Also, was it my imagination…or did his right hand have four fingers on his thigh before…

“Anyways, at the time, I had no idea what the cause was, but I arrived at the school entrance to an all-out brawl.” He glanced at me for a moment, as if checking to see if I was paying attention. “The VP knocks out the President and walks away, while the Prez has to go to the hospital.” The group collectively gasped.

“He recovered, but it was pretty awful,” he nodded. “I still had to come up with a headline for, and one came to my mind.”

As he mentioned the title, without mentioning specific names, I felt chills down my spine as the full headline appeared in bold letters within my mind.

Coup d’etat. VP Iwasaki sends President Miyaji to the ICU.

“Tch,” a quiet exhale escaped my mouth, going undetected by the others as they nodded in contemplation. Sato glanced at me, her face concerned and apprehensive.

Yoshino looked at Hayashi. “Wild story, right?”

“Yeah! I remember reading that headline and was like, "no way!”

“Are you guys done?” A cold voice silenced the room. The source of this voice stunned everyone, including me.

“What’s wrong, Sato-san?” Yoshino asked gently, feigning innocence. “Sorry, maybe this story was a bit much, but it’s a wild story I saw with my own eyes–”

“Cut it out.” She interrupted him.

“Hmm…” he paused. “I see, still believe what Mr. Vice President told you,” he looked at me, leading the group to make that last connection. “Right, Iwasaki-kun?” He stood up, seemingly claiming victory in his argument.

“That’s enough, Yoshino.” I stopped him from continuing, standing up myself. “Leave her out of this.”

“Mm, alright..” he sighed. “Getting useless foreigners to blindly support you is pretty low, even for you.” His words poured gasoline on my growing anger. In this group of eight, the only ones who understood what he said were Hayashi and I. But I had to change that.

“Yoshino. You don’t call them useless foreigners in another language and get away with it.” The group turned to him with shock.

“Like you got away with assault?” He shrugged. “Well, if they can’t understand what I’m saying, then what’s the point? They get their degrees and go back to their own country,” he mused. “Does nothing for the Japanese economy except being tourists. And the ones who try and stay?” He switched back to English. “Can’t find a job, so they find someone to marry–a gaijin hunter’s dream.”

I started laughing. “You hear yourself talking? Reading too many forums?”

“It’s not my opinion. It’s a general sentime–” he stopped as a hand swept across his face, slapping him. Sato had gotten up, staring at him with an intense disgust I hadn’t seen before.

“Tch,” Yoshino responded, quickly grabbing her outstretched hand before she could retreat. “Violence isn’t fun, now,” he tightened his grip on her hand, causing her face to contort with pain. He shoved her back, causing her to lose balance and fall onto the ground.

I only remember running at him at full speed before–

***

“Iwasaki-kun!”

What–I–

I was standing, holding my hands up, no… holding someone’s shirt by the collars. My vision focused, seeing Yoshino, his head against the wall. This guy—

Yoshino, still pinned against the wall, sneered. “What now? You’re gonna beat me up? Send me to the hospital? Just like you did to Miyaji-kun?” Yoshino was always one to get the last laugh. “You almost killed him…you forgot?”

I let go, feeling the words echo aimlessly in my head. Almost killed him. I didn’t…I…he…

Straightening his collar, Yoshino sighed. “Enjoy this while you can. I could already tell this club’s funding is….excessive.”

At this point, the seniors upstairs were coming downstairs, alerted by all the ruckus.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Yoshino shrugged. “King’s game went a little off course, but it’s all resolved.”

“Oh, alright…looks like the rain is going to end in the next fifteen minutes or so…Iwasaki-kun?”

His voice faded into the distance as I walked towards the main entrance, slipped my shoes on, and left the house.

The rain continued pouring, drenching my hair and clothes. I picked up my pace to a jog, then a run, down streets I barely recognized.

Pathetic.

Eventually, I arrived at the beachfront, the raindrops decreasing in frequency as I slowed my pace to a halt. Sitting down on one of the benches, sitting on the pooling water with abject indifference.

One more word from his mouth and everything would’ve shattered.

I sighed, letting the last bit of rage wash away with the cool raindrops, slowing down and becoming a fine mist.

Being alone would’ve been a lot easier…