Chapter V - This Joke Isn't Funny Anymore (III)

"Eat," Akise simply commanded. "The body is a temple, and yours is starting to look like one of those abandoned shrines we passed on the school trip."

I picked up my chopsticks and took a small bite of the omelet yet again to appease him. Unfortunately, my taste buds were very sensitive to emotion. If I felt like crap, the food I would eat would have the same level of flavor and quality as cardboard. It wasn't a very useful superpower.

"So what's the plan with the club?" I asked, frantically desperate to change the subject. "We need at least two more members to keep our charter."

Akise grinned, instantly lighting up.

"I'm glad you asked. Behold! The Seven-Step Plan for Four-Symbol Ascendancy!" He reached beneath the table and produced what looked like a scroll, unfurling it with a dramatic flourish.

The scroll was covered in Akise's cramped handwriting and elaborate doodles. I could make out phrases like "mystical demonstration," "recruitment campaign," and what appeared to be "emergency cosplay" with three question marks beside it.

"...I'm not wearing a turtle costume," I said flatly.

"Of course not! Genbu is represented by a warrior with a shield! The shell symbolism is purely metaphorical." To that, he pointed to a cruedly made sketch on the wall of a man wearing a suit of armor that looked like it came from the future.

"I'm not wearing any costume."

"We'll circle back to that." He tapped the scroll. "The point is, we're going to make the Four Symbols Club the talk of the Cultural Festival. No more hiding in the shadows! No more being the forgotten club in the abandoned music room!"

I glanced around at our surroundings. The Old Music Room had been our refuge since our first year at Amane Private Academy. It was almost a decade after the music program's budget was cut, after the shiny new room was built in the west wing, and after everyone forgot this space existed. It was dusty and outdated, but it was ours. The piano had been declared too expensive to move and too worthless to sell, so it remained, gathering dust in the corner like a sleeping giant.

Sometimes, when I was alone, I'd rest my fingers on the keys without pressing down. Just feeling their smooth coolness, remembering.

But then I would remember why I stopped playing.

"You know Arisato-senpai is gunning for this room, right? Wants to convert it into storage for the student council." I pointed out, attempting to dissuade Akise's "plan."

"Then we'll convince him otherwise. We'll show him the glory of the Four Symbols Club!"

The Four Symbols Club had begun as a joke in our first year. Akise, with his boundless imagination and refusal to be normal, had decided that we needed a "spiritual framework" for our friendship. He'd researched the ancient Chinese cardinal guardians—Genbu the Black Tortoise of the North, Byakko the White Tiger of the West, Suzaku the Vermilion Bird of the South, and Seiryuu the Azure Dragon of the East—and assigned roles to our little group.

I was Genbu: the quiet guardian, the shield, the one who endured. Akise refused to take one of the four symbols, calling himself "The Dark Crystal Seraph" instead, claiming he existed outside the cardinal directions in a "qualitatively transcendental sense." There had been others once. Watanabe Kaoru, serious and studious but secretly an otaku, who'd been our Seiryuu before graduation. Ichikawa Miki, dramatic and creative, our Suzaku, who also graduated last year as well.

And Takami Sosuke, our Byakko, who'd drifted away as his athletic career took priority over our childish games.

Now it was just us, a fading club with a membership of two, clinging to an abandoned room that smelled of chalk dust and forgotten melodies. But still, it was something. Something that was mine, that couldn't be taken away.

"Besides, who could resist this? We offer mystery! Adventure! Cosmic significance!" Akise coped by joking, by deflecting with absurdity.

"We offer social suicide," I countered, but without much heat.

"Details, details." He waved a dismissive hand. "Now, about Minazuki—"

"There's nothing about Minazuki-san."

"So you weren't staring at her all through morning classes? So you didn't pick something up from her desk after she left? So you're not currently hiding whatever it is in your pocket?"

Sometimes I hated how observant he was.

"Detective Nanahara," I mumbled.

He leaned forward. "Well?"

Sighing, I reached into my pocket. "It's nothing. Just an earbud. I thought she might have dropped it, so..."

"Ah! A quest item!" Akise's eyes lit up. "The Siren's Voice Catcher. Very rare drop. Increases charisma by fifteen points when equipped."

"It. Is. Just. An. Earbud."

"Sure, sure. You're just planning to return it out of the kindness of your heart. Not because you've been watching her since she transferred. Not because she's the only person at this school who scares Midou. Not because she's—"

"Akise."

"Fine, fine. But seriously, you're going to give it back?"

"...Eventually."

He nodded, as if that answered all his questions. Sadly, he decided to reload after taking a bite of his lunch. "So, class rep duties crushing your soul as usual?"

"Arisato-senpai dumped a stack of forms on me this morning. Also, apparently, we're doing a maid café for the festival."

"Midou's idea?"

"How'd you know?"

"Because it combines his two favorite things: girls in costumes and feeling superior. So predictable. Like a badly written antagonist. Any young man knows that the best costume for girls to wear is the birthday suit!"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Shou-chan, you're supposed to laugh when I make a lewd joke."

"Sorry," I said, rubbing at the back of my neck. "It's just... he was saying things about Minazuki-san at lunch. Really nasty rumors."

"And you said...?"

"Nothing. I walked away." I admitted, looking out the window.

Akise's expression softened. "Shouma, you can't challenge Midou directly. Not after what happened last time."

Last time. The black eye. The principal's office. My father, reeking of cigarettes and last night's sake, staring at me with disappointment and something darker, something that made my skin crawl.

"Just like your mother. Always causing trouble."

"I know, but I should have done something. I'm a class rep. I'm supposed to protect my classmates."

"You can't protect someone who doesn't want to be protected. Besides, Minazuki can take care of herself. She broke Midou's wrist last year, remember?"

A few months back, around May, it had been only three weeks since she transferred. Midou had tried to grab her arm in the hallway—some comment about her skirt length, an invitation to karaoke delivered with his trademark smirk. She'd moved so fast that most witnesses couldn't even describe what happened.

One moment he was standing, the next he was on his knees, face white with pain, wrist bent at an unnatural angle.

She hadn't even looked back as she walked away with her signature heels clacking against the floor.

The rumors had flown instantly. Some said she'd studied martial arts. Others claimed that she was part of a European crime syndicate like the Sicilian Mafia, sent here to lie low. Others thought she was more domestically dangerous, a member of an influential family with connections to the yakuza.

No one knew the truth, but everyone agreed on one thing: Minazuki Serena was not to be touched.

"She doesn't need my help," I agreed. "But it's not about helping her. It's about... I don't know. Being better than this."

I gestured vaguely at myself, at the room, at everything.

To that, Akise studied me for a long moment, then set down his bento box. "You know, Shouma, you don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders."

"Of course I do. That's what it means to be Genbu, right?"

"That's... not actually what the legends say. Genbu is the protector, the shield, the one who endures. But he's not alone."

I shrugged, refusing to meet his gaze. "The other symbols are gone."

Akise realized he couldn't use chunnibiyou logic. So he decided to speak without any of his typical flair.

"You are better than this, Shouma. Better than all of it." He sighed. "Look, I know you think you're just going through the motions until—" He stopped, unable to say it. "But you matter. To me. To your future readers once you finally agree to co-author my magnificent series."

"Not happening," I snorted.

"We'll see. Point is, don't beat yourself up for surviving however you can. And maybe—"

He was interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the hallway, heavy and deliberate.

Our eyes met. We knew that sound.

Arisato Seijuro.