Chapter 2: The Loudest Fanboy in the Room

The classroom smells like a distinct, suffocating cocktail of chalk dust, floor wax, and teenage hormones. It is a scent that screams "institutional learning" and "repressed anxiety".

I slide into my seat, which is located in the middle row—the strategic dead zone of the classroom. Too far back for the teacher to spit on me while lecturing, but too far forward for the delinquents to kick my chair. I drop my bag on the floor with a heavy thud that echoes how I feel inside. Immediately, I fold my arms on the desk and bury my face in them.

My body is present, but my soul is currently hovering somewhere above the Sea of Japan, trying to find a peaceful island to nap on.

I stayed up until 4:15 AM finishing the inking for Chapter 45 of The Crimson Valkyrie. My right hand—the hand that generates my secret income and my public misery—is cramping so badly it feels less like a hand and more like a rusted claw. The muscles between my thumb and index finger are throbbing in a rhythmic beat that matches the pounding headache behind my eyes.

I close my eyes, praying for five minutes of silence before homeroom starts. Just five minutes.

"Yo! Kenji! My dude!"

The silence is murdered instantly.

A heavy hand slaps my back with the force of a falling anvil.

I groan into the wood of my desk. The vibration travels through my ribcage.

It is Yoshi.

Of course it is Yoshi.

He slides into the chair in front of me, turning it around to face me backwards, straddling it like he is a cool guidance counselor in a 90s movie. I lift my head slowly, peeling my cheek off the desk.

Yoshi is beaming. He has that grin on his face- the one that says he has consumed at least three energy drinks before 8 AM and is ready to vibrate through a solid concrete wall. His eyes are wide, manic, and terrifyingly awake.

"Did you read it?", Yoshi asks, bouncing his leg up and down.

"Read what?", I mumble, my voice sounding like gravel in a blender. "The expiration date on your milk? The warning label on the energy drink that says 'Do not consume if you value your heart rate'?"

"No, you uncultured swine!", Yoshi exclaims, ignoring my sarcasm completely. "The new Twilight-Senpai drop! It came out three hours ago! Dude, are you living under a rock? Or are you just legally blind to greatness?"

I rub my eyes. "I was sleeping. You know, that thing normal humans do when the sun goes down".

"Sleep is for the weak!", Yoshi declares. He shoves his phone in my face. The brightness is set to 100%. It burns my retinas. "Look at this! Just look at it!"

I blink, trying to focus.

The screen shows a high-resolution scan of a manga page. specifically, Page 18 of the latest chapter.

I know this page. I know this page intimately. I spent six hours agonizing over this specific page last night. It is the panel where the protagonist, Kael, finally unleashes the sealed dragon spirit from his sword.

"Oh. That", I say, trying to sound bored. I lean back in my chair, feigning disinterest. "Yeah. It is… okay".

"Okay? OKAY?!", Yoshi looks offended. He stands up, his chair screeching against the floor. He attracts the attention of half the class, including the girl who sleeps with her eyes open in the front row. "Kenji, you have the artistic appreciation of a damp sponge! This is not just 'okay'. It is a masterpiece!"

He sits back down, leaning in close, his voice dropping to a worshipful whisper.

"Look at the shading on the dragon's scales", he points to the screen, his finger hovering over the intricate cross-hatching I nearly developed carpal tunnel syndrome to achieve. "Do you see the texture? It looks rough, but also metallic. And the emotional turmoil in Kael's eyes? You can see the hesitation, but also the resolve. Twilight-Senpai didn't just draw eyes; he drew a soul, Kenji. A soul!"

I blink.

"It looks like a lot of ink lines to me", I say, keeping my expression flat.

Internally, however, I am critiquing myself. Actually, the cross-hatching on the left wing is a bit rushed. I should have used a 0.05mm pen instead of the 0.1mm. And the screen tone on the background is slightly misaligned.

"You don't get it", Yoshi shakes his head, looking at me with pity. "Twilight-Senpai is a god among men. I bet he is some super cool, mysterious guy. I picture him living in a penthouse in Roppongi, wearing a silk robe. He probably sips vintage red wine while he draws, listening to classical music or jazz. He is probably surrounded by beautiful assistants who peel grapes for him".

I stare at Yoshi.

Actually, I was drinking lukewarm instant miso soup from a mug with a chipped rim. I was wearing sweatpants with a hole in the knee. And the only thing I was listening to was the sound of my sister Aiko yelling at the television downstairs.

"Maybe he is just a normal guy", I suggest, looking out the window. "You know, like us. Maybe he is just some tired student who likes video games and hates waking up early".

Yoshi laughs. It is a loud, barking laugh. "No way. Absolutely no way. No normal person has this much talent. No high schooler could understand the deep, complex themes of sacrifice and betrayal depicted in the Crimson Valkyrie arc. He has to be an adult. A sophisticated, worldly adult. I bet he gets so many girls. Unlike us".

"Speak for yourself", I say, feeling a twinge of defensiveness. "I have… prospects".

"Your sister doesn't count", Yoshi shoots back instantly.

I kick his chair leg. Hard.

"Ow!", he laughs, dodging the second kick. "But seriously, Kenji. You need to read it properly. Don't just skim it. You are an artist, right? You draw those little doodles in your notebook. You should study this! It is the holy scripture of manga!"

"I draw landscapes", I lie. "And rocks. Sometimes trees".

"Boring", Yoshi dismisses my entire artistic potential with a wave of his hand. "Anyway, listen to this. This is the crazy part".

He leans in even closer. His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, like he is sharing state secrets.

"I joined a new fan forum last night. The 'Twilight Zone'. It is deep web stuff, man. Hardcore theories".

"You need a hobby that doesn't involve screens", I tell him.

"Shut up and listen. There is a theory... a controversial theory... that Twilight-Senpai might be a high schooler".

I freeze.

My heart does a little panic-flip in my chest. It feels like I missed a step on a staircase.

"What?", I manage to say. My voice sounds calm, but my insides are screaming.

"Yeah", Yoshi nods, his eyes gleaming. "Some guy named 'User774' analyzed the upload times of the web novel chapters. He noticed that the updates almost always happen on Friday nights or weekends. And during exam seasons- like the national mock exams- the updates are always delayed or shorter".

I sweat.

User774, whoever you are, I hope you step on a Lego.

"That… is a coincidence", I say, forcing a bored expression onto my face. I pick at a splinter on my desk. "Maybe he has a day job. Maybe he works in an office. Adults have schedules too".

"That is what I said!", Yoshi agrees, and I breathe a sigh of relief. "But then, someone else pointed out that the slang the characters use in the academy arc is very… modern. Like, current Tokyo high school slang. Not the stuff a 30-year-old editor would know".

"Maybe he does research", I suggest weakly.

"Maybe", Yoshi taps his chin. "But imagine, Kenji. Just imagine. If he was a high schooler? If he went to our school?"

He looks around the classroom, scanning the faces of our classmates. He looks at the guy picking his nose in the corner. He looks at the girl applying mascara. He looks at me.

"That is stupid", I say, trying to shut this conversation down before Yoshi figures out that the 'God among men' is sitting right in front of him, fighting the urge to vomit from exhaustion. "Why would a famous author go to this dump? This school is average. We are average. If Twilight-Senpai was a student, he would be at some elite arts academy, not here eating stale curry bread with us".

"True", Yoshi sighs, seemingly defeated by my logic. He scrolls through the comic on his phone again, zooming in on the protagonist's sword. "He is probably too cool for this place. Anyway, I'm going to write a ten-paragraph review on the fan site during lunch. I need to defend the integrity of the subplot involving the blacksmith. People are saying it is filler, but they don't understand the nuance!"

I watch him type furiously on his phone. His thumbs are moving at the speed of light.

It is weird.

It is so incredibly weird seeing my best friend obsess over me without knowing it is me. He is defending my writing against internet trolls while sitting two feet away from the person who wrote it.

I feel a mix of pride and guilt. Pride, because hey, my best friend loves my work. Guilt, because I am lying to his face every single day.

I pull out my notebook- the decoy one I use for school notes. It has "Math" written on the cover, but inside, there are zero equations and about a thousand sketches.

I start to doodle in the margins.

I look at Yoshi. He is muttering to himself, "No, 'User774', you are wrong, the sword is a metaphor for his father's expectations...".

A new character idea forms in my head.

A loud, energetic sidekick. Someone who is loyal to a fault, obsessively passionate, but completely oblivious to the obvious truth standing right in front of him.

I sketch a character with messy hair and wide, energetic eyes. I give him a speech bubble that says, 'This is a masterpiece!'.

"Hey", Yoshi looks up, catching me staring. "You want to come over later? I got the new fighting game. Street Brawler 6. I unlocked the secret character".

"Can't", I lie smoothly. The lie comes naturally now. It is a reflex. "Helping Aiko with homework. She has a big math test coming up".

"Your sister is a demon", Yoshi shudders visibly. The color drains from his face slightly. "She looked at me yesterday like I was garbage. Like I was a piece of gum she stepped on".

"She just thinks you are a bad influence", I say, shading the eyes of my doodle.

"I am a delight!", Yoshi protests, placing a hand on his chest. "I am the life of the party! I am the sunshine of this gloomy class!"

"You are the noise pollution of this class", I correct him.

Suddenly, the classroom door slides open with a bang.

The teacher walks in, slamming a wooden ruler on the podium to assert dominance.

"Sit down, you animals!", the teacher barks. "Homeroom is starting. If I see a single cell phone, I am confiscating it and melting it down for scrap metal!"

Yoshi scrambles to turn his chair around, nearly tripping over his own feet. He shoves his phone into his pocket.

"Talk later", he whispers to me over his shoulder. "I need to tell you about the theory regarding the Moon Princess's lineage".

"Can't wait", I whisper back.

I look out the window. The sky is a pale, washed-out blue. A crow flies past, cawing loudly.

I stifle a yawn that threatens to unhinge my jaw.

The teacher starts talking about attendance and upcoming cleaning duties. The class settles into a dull hum of boredom.

I look down at my hand. The ink stain on my middle finger is still there, faint but visible. A mark of my double life.

Just another day of hiding in plain sight. Just another day of being Kenji the average student, while Twilight-Senpai exists only in the digital cloud and in Yoshi's wild imagination.

I rest my chin on my hand.

At least he liked the dragon scales, I think to myself. I guess the hand cramp was worth it.