Chapter 15: An Anomaly in the Data

A whole week passes. My arm is in a sling, the stitches itch, and I'm going out of my mind.

No 6 AM training. No getting beat on by a girl half my size. No... her.

Life is... boring.

I never thought I'd say it, but I miss the dojo. I miss the pain. I miss the... focus.

At school, everything is back to normal. Or, the new normal. I'm "Stabbed Shoujo," the guy who fought off yakuza and village thugs. People give me even more space now.

And Ayako... Ayako is back to being the goddess.

"Good morning, Minatawa-kun." "Good morning, Katsumi-san."

Polite. Distant. Cold.

It's like the village never happened. It's like that moment in the parking lot never happened.

It's driving me crazy.

Lunchtime. I do my usual thing—ditch the cafeteria and head for the roof. My arm is in a sling, so I'm not looking for a fight. I just want quiet.

I'm sitting there, eating my conbini bread, when the heavy roof door screeches open.

I look up, annoyed. "It's occupied."

It's her.

Ayako Katsumi. Holding... a bento box.

She just stands there, looking at me.

"This is your... sanctuary?" she asks. Her voice is the quiet, classroom one.

"Yeah. What's up? Come to tell me my chewing is inefficient?"

She doesn't answer. She just walks over... and sits down.

Not right next to me. About five feet away. A... polite... distance.

She opens her bento box.

Of course, it's perfect. Little octopus-shaped sausages. Tamago-yaki. Perfectly cut vegetables. It looks like something from a magazine.

We just... sit there. Eating. In the most awkward, screaming silence in the history of the world.

I can't take it.

"Why are you here?" I finally ask, my mouth full of bread.

"My usual lunch spot... was too crowded today," she says, not looking at me.

"You're a terrible liar, Katsumi."

She freezes. Then she delicately picks up a piece of broccoli. "You are... healing?"

"It's fine. Stitches itch like crazy. Doctor says the sling comes off in another week."

"Good."

More silence. This is torture.

"So," I say, "the village guys. What... 'handled'...?"

"They are being prosecuted to the full extent of the law," she says, her voice turning crisp. "Assault with a deadly weapon. Assault on a minor. They will not be... a problem... again."

"And the... 'fines'?"

"Their families," Ayako says, her eyes on her bento, "have agreed to pay for the school's bus repairs, new volunteer equipment, and... a significant donation to the village's community fund."

"A donation. Right." The way she says it... it's a shakedown. A legal, professional, yakuza shakedown.

"You really are something else," I mutter, shaking my head.

She stops eating.

"You are an anomaly, Shoujo Minatawa."

My heart does that... stupid, stupid jump. She used my first name again.

"An... anomaly? What's that supposed to mean? I'm 'problematic,' a 'dog,' a 'mess'... now I'm an 'anomaly'?"

She finally turns her head, and her dark, serious eyes meet mine.

"My world... is built on data. On patterns. On predictable outcomes."

"I analyze threats," she continues, "I calculate responses. I execute. That is how my... 'family'... operates. That is how I operate. It is efficient."

"And me?" I ask, my voice softer.

"You..." She looks away, back at the city skyline. "You are a variable I cannot account for."

"I calculate that you will get into a fight. You do. But then... you take a knife for someone. You... you disrupt the equation. You get hurt."

She says "you get hurt" like it's the... the worst possible outcome.

"You make," she says, her voice a whisper, "my data... messy."

I... I don't know what to say.

This is... this is her, isn't it? This is Ayako Katsumi, with her mask all the way down.

This is her... trying to say she... cares?

That I'm not just a "pet" or a "problem"... but a "messy variable" that she... worries about?

Before I can find a single word, she's standing up. Her bento is already packed.

"This was a... sufficient lunch," she says, all business again. The goddess mask is back.

"Do not be late for fifth period. Your English grade is... problematic."

She walks to the door.

"Hey, Katsumi!"

She stops, her hand on the door handle.

"Your... your octopus sausages," I say, pointing with my bread. "They're cute."

She doesn't turn around. But I see her shoulders tense up.

"They are... efficient protein," she mutters, and then she's gone.

I'm left on the roof, my heart pounding.

An anomaly.

I... I think I can live with that.