Protector of the Ridiculous

The transformation happened overnight.

Monday morning, I arrived at school with my backpack reorganized like a military operation. The doll now lived in a sealed plastic bag, wrapped in bubble wrap, tucked inside a padded pencil case, nestled in the center compartment where it couldn't get jostled by books or crushed against my locker.

I'd also memorized my schedule to avoid high-traffic areas during passing periods. No more rushing through crowded hallways where someone might bump into me. No more cutting it close between classes.

I'm not being paranoid. I'm being careful.

The first test came during lunch.

I was carefully navigating toward my usual table, treating my backpack like it contained live explosives, when Yuki waved me over with a juice box in her hand.

"Hey, you want some? I bought too many and—"

"NO!"

The word came out so sharply that half the cafeteria turned to stare. Yuki blinked at me in shock.

"I mean... no thanks. I'm not thirsty." I clutched my bag closer to my chest. "And maybe don't wave that around so much? Someone could get splashed."

"It's apple juice, not acid."

"Still. Accidents happen."

Yuki gave me the look reserved for people who'd clearly lost their minds. "You feeling okay? You've been acting weird all morning."

If only you knew.

"I'm fine."

Every step got calculated. Every movement stayed deliberate. I focused on my backpack's position at all times, the way it shifted when I sat down, and how close other students got when they walked past.

I’m probably overthinking this.

*****

By the end of lunch, my shoulders ached from tension.

Third-period PE turned into a nightmare I didn't anticipate.

Coach Yamamoto announced we were doing gymnastics in the equipment room, which meant trampolines, balance beams, and approximately seventy-three ways for my backpack to get damaged.

"Tanaka! Where do you think you're going?"

I froze halfway out of the gymnasium door. "Bathroom?"

"You can use the facilities after class. Get changed."

"I'm not feeling well today. Stomach issues. You probably don't want the details."

Coach Yamamoto looked like she was about to argue, but the specific mention of digestive problems made her wave me away with disgust. "Fine. Sit on the bleachers. But you're participating tomorrow."

Tomorrow I'll figure out how to fake food poisoning.

I spent the entire period clutching my backpack and watching my classmates bounce around on equipment that could easily launch a bag into the stratosphere. Every time someone landed hard on a trampoline, I flinched.

This situation was unsustainable.

*****

The real crisis hit during chemistry.

Mr. Taniguchi demonstrated acid-base reactions, which involved a lot of bubbling beakers and substances that definitely shouldn't get near cotton dolls. I'd positioned myself in the back corner, as far from the lab station as possible, but lab partners got assigned randomly.

"Tanaka and Suzuki, station three."

Suzuki seemed nice enough, but she had the spatial awareness of a caffeinated squirrel. Last week, she knocked over two beakers and somehow got sulfur powder in her hair.

"I can't," I said.

"Excuse me?"

"I can't do lab work today. I have allergies. To chemicals. Very severe. Could be life-threatening."

Mr. Taniguchi adjusted his glasses and stared at me like I'd announced I was allergic to oxygen. "You've been fine in chemistry class for two months."

"It's a delayed reaction. Builds up over time. Very dangerous."

"Tanaka, either participate in the lab or take a zero for today's assignment."

I looked at the bubbling beakers. At Suzuki's eager, clumsy hands. At my backpack with its precious, fragile cargo.

Leo's safety versus my grade point average.

"I'll take the zero."

*****

By Thursday, my friends thought I was having a breakdown.

"You haven't eaten lunch with us all week," Mei pointed out during homeroom. "You won't do partner work. You freaked out when that kid asked to borrow a pencil."

"I don't like sharing supplies. It's unsanitary."

"Since when?"

Since I became the unwilling guardian of a magical artifact that could kill the boy I don't have feelings for if someone accidentally sneezed on it.

"People are gross," I said instead. "Haven't you seen how they chew on their pens?"

Yuki leaned across the aisle. "And what's with the backpack thing? You carry it everywhere now. Even to the bathroom."

"No, I don't."

"You literally took it with you ten minutes ago."

"That's... normal bag behavior."

They exchanged a look. The one that said our friend has officially snapped.

I wanted to explain. I wanted to tell them that I wasn't going crazy, I was just trying to prevent accidental manslaughter via cotton doll. But there was no way to make that sound reasonable.

So I just hugged my backpack tighter and changed the subject.

*****

The worst part wasn't the constant vigilance or my friends thinking I'd lost my mind.

The worst part turned out to be Leo.

Every day, he got a little more attentive. Offering to carry my books when he noticed me being extra careful with my bag. Walking me to every class like some kind of devoted bodyguard.

"You don't have to do that," I told him Thursday afternoon as he insisted on escorting me to the bus stop again.

"I want to," he said, and there was something in his voice that made my chest do weird fluttery things. "I like spending time with you."

Oh no.

"Why?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.

He stayed quiet for a moment, adjusting his backpack strap. "You're different. Smarter. Funnier. You notice things other people miss."

Like the fact that I'm slowly going insane trying to protect your life?

"And lately you seem, uh, I don't know. Like you're carrying something heavy. I want to help, if you'll let me."

The irony hit so thick I could choke on it. He wanted to help me carry the burden that existed solely to keep him alive.

"I'm fine," I said automatically.

"You sure? Because you've been acting strange this week. More careful about everything. Like you're afraid something bad might happen."

Something bad WILL happen if I'm not careful.

"I'm just going through some stuff."

He stopped walking. We were halfway between school and the bus stop, standing under a tree that was dropping leaves all over the sidewalk.

"Rika." The way he said my name made my stomach twist. "If you ever want to talk about whatever's going on, I'm here. I know we haven't been friends very long, but I care about you. A lot."

The sincerity in his voice hit me with surprise. Here he stood, being completely genuine and vulnerable, and I was hiding the fact that his life depended on a stuffed doll in my backpack.

"Thanks," I managed. "That means a lot."

More than you'll ever know.

He smiled, and it was like sunshine breaking through clouds. "Good. I worried I was being too pushy."

You're being perfect, which is exactly the problem.

We started walking again, and I became conscious of every step. Every crack in the sidewalk could make me stumble. Every cyclist who passed too close. Every potential disaster that could hurt the doll and, by extension, hurt him.

"Rika?"

"Yeah?"

"You okay? You look really tense."

I realized I was walking like I was carrying a nuclear bomb. Which, in a weird way, I was.

"Just tired," I lied. "Long week."

"Well, we're almost to your stop. You can rest soon."

Rest. Right. Like I'll ever be able to rest again.

We reached the bus stop, and Leo did something that made my pulse go haywire.

He reached out and adjusted my bag strap without even thinking about it.

"There. Looks more comfortable now."

For a split second, his fingers brushed against the exact spot where the doll was hidden, and I nearly had a heart attack imagining all the ways this could go wrong.

But nothing happened. The doll stayed safe in its protective layers, and Leo just smiled at me like he'd done something completely normal instead of casually handling the object that controlled his fate.

"Thanks," I whispered.

The bus arrived, and I climbed on with my important cargo intact. Through the window, I watched Leo walk away, oblivious to the fact that a cotton doll stuffed with rice had become the most important thing in both our lives.

This is insane.

But I can't stop now.