Bitter Pill

Yes. Yes he would. "This will be an invaluable learning experience for you, Yangu-san," Principal Katou said in a voice thick with an infuriating wiser-than-thou tone. "Indeed, Fuyutsuki-san in the General Affairs Office will be quite pleased to hear that you're taking an interest in something refined and cultural rather than doing something devoid of class and skill, like, oh let's say, joining the Track Team..."

Katou's own office was a stark reminder of Fuyutsuki's cramped little office--a small collection of prestigious awards and qualifications, a wooden shelf laden with leather-bound books, and a fine wooden desk, all practically drowning in a sea of scattered paperwork and notices. Apparently there was just too much crap for even the traditionally-orderly Japanese to get organized in an environment like this.

"Ain't there laws in this country about contracts requiring the consent of both parties? Or even just rules in this school against writing peoples' names on things without their consent?" Jacob's arms couldn't decide if they wanted to grip his head, an invisible table, or Katou's throat.

"Hmm, you said you agreed to the contest that would determine the state of your membership?" Katou asked, putting on airs of bored disinterest.

"Well, yeah, but--"

"And you lost? Arm-wrestling against a teenage girl, no less, and you lost? Oh, dear..."

"Yeah, only because she--"

"And you participated, knowing that losing meant you would agree to join the Calligraphy Club?"

"That was the idea, but--"

"Well, then, I'm afraid you have no case, Yangu-san," the old man said with a wicked sneer. "There's no evidence that your application into the Calligraphy Club was made fraudulently, as per your own story, so I'm afraid there's nothing I can do to reverse it. You are a member of the Calligraphy Club now, and if you don't want a black mark on your record endangering your prospects of graduating and entering the workforce, you'd do well to not neglect your newfound club duties..."

The 1:30pm bell rang, indicating the end of the lunch period. Katou was content to wait for Jacob to leave in silence, but instead he got a defiant, "This isn't over, old man!" before he heard Jacob's heavy footfalls storm out of the room. Katou's office was on the second floor of the side building, above the auditorium, so it took Jacob a few minutes to descend the stairs, pass through one foyer, enter the other, travel to the one end of the hall, and finally return to his seat in Class 1-4, where he proceeded to seethe once more.

Sixth period: English Language & Literature. As Shimada-sensei entered the room, Jacob was vividly reminded of his blunder early that morning. Shouting "Tits!" while openly staring at a pair, right in front of a woman he was hoping to impress, surely had to rank among his most embarrassing moments in a school environment--a ranking he long-believed that he was no longer accepting any entries for, and yet, here he was.

But, hey! Maybe the second time's the charm! After all, Jacob spoke English natively, so surely a good performance in this class would impress...that is, until he ran his eyes down the syllabus Shimada-sensei had handed out. What in the world? Demonstrative adjectives? Perfect tense? What in the hell is a past participle?!

"Now, some of you--" Shimada-sensei looked straight at Jacob as she spoke, "--have more experience with the English language than others, so I'll be expecting a higher level of proficiency from those students. You know who you are." Jacob broke out into a cold sweat. It seemed to be foolish to be nervous about a language class in which you're already fluent, but for some odd reason, he suddenly seemed unable to properly remember the difference between an adjective and an adverb. He knows how to speak English good, dammit! Using such oblique and recondite terminology was completely unfair!

Seventh period: Science. Finally, the last class period of the day, and Jacob was already feeling like he wanted to die. The teacher for this class was quite unusual--Kubo Kei-sensei had the appearance of a rather attractive woman, with long, straight brown hair and pleasing facial features accompanied by a soft gray blouse and navy-blue dress pants, but there was something strange about their voice...somewhere in there, Jacob recognized something rather masculine, and Kubo-sensei's appealingly strong chin now seemed to be rather suspect, as well. The fact that they used ambiguously-neutral pronouns all throughout class added yet another layer to the mystery that was Kubo-sensei. Man? Woman? Or perhaps, something in between...?

As for the subject itself, well, first-years at Kameda High would be focusing on the fundamentals of chemistry, including a breakdown of the Periodic Table, as well as learning to accurately determine the outcomes of chemical reactions, simple and complex, using the mathematical principles of the atomic structures and the reaction process. So, like another period of Math, but with more explode-y bits. Standard stuff, really, so it's only natural that the more compelling subject of Kubo-sensei's gender was the more common topic of conversation during the inter-period window before final homeroom.

As it was only the first day, final homeroom largely consisted of swift election to determine who would be Class 1-4's President and Vice-President, which was a rather short and unexciting affair, as only two people were even interested in the posts: Yoshikawa Minato, of course, took interest in the Class President position, while the shy girl who sat next to Jacob, named Maeda Junko, was the only one to raise her hand for the role of Vice-President, in an apparent bid to broaden her horizons and break out of her comfort zone. It seemed Jacob was surrounded by go-getters.

At 4:00pm, the official dismissal bell rang out, prompting Jacob to head for the entrance at once. He was out the front door. The gate was just ahead! Maybe if he made it off the grounds quickly, he wouldn't be spotted by--

"Hey, Jake-kun! There you are!"

It was the unmistakable voice of the loathsome Hirano Chinatsu, now known in Jacob's mind solely as "Peanuts," or, more endearingly, "That annoying little bitch who's dead-set on ruining my entire year." And she was rapidly approaching him from behind. Could he get away with punching her directly in the face and claim it was done in self-defense? ...Probably not. That might be misinterpreted as a crime or something.

"Don't call me that, Peanuts," he groaned as he turned to face her, "You haven't earned the right."

"You call me 'Peanuts,' so that means I get to use a nickname for you, too, so suck it up!" she retorted with an infuriating smile. Like she had just dropped some undeniable truth bomb on him.

"Yeah, well, I'm older than you," he growled.

"Yeah, well, I outrank you!" she responded without skipping a beat. "And unlike that barbaric free-for-all school system you're familiar with, Japan is a country where rank actually matters. I'm your senpai, so that makes you my little bitch, Jake-kun!" She cackled with a tone most sinister. "Now, listen to your senpai and follow me to the clubroom, underling!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Jacob could swear he saw someone standing near a window, and sure enough, when he got a good luck at the secondary building, Principal Katortoise was watching with a gleeful grin on his face. The memory of his appeal in the office stung fresh once again. He really didn't have a choice in the matter, did he?

"Ugh, fine..." Jacob groaned, following Chinatsu back into the main building and swapping back into his indoor shoes, "But if I have to memorize a bunch of weird new Kanji, then you can kiss my ass."

***

Class 2-7 was, by all means, the perfect location for any clubroom--there weren't enough 2nd-year students to justify its use as a regular classroom this year, so it was swiftly acquired by Chinatsu to be used as the headquarters of the Calligraphy Club. She loudly bragged that she sniped it even before morning homeroom had started, to ensure that she had access to this prime location. The fact that Jacob vaguely remembered seeing her family name, "Hirano," on the list of School Board members made him suspicious that there might've been some other reason Chinatsu was able to get her way other than her punctuality.

"Well, like they say, 'If you don't enter the tiger's den, you won't get the tiger's cub'," she was saying, "You should be grateful that you're part of a club where the President cares about--what the?!" They had arrived at Class 2-7, and it wasn't exactly bustling with activity. Chinatsu curled her hands into fists and stomped impotently at the classroom's threshold. "Shinji-kun, I thought I told you to recruit more members!"

Shinji looked affronted, "But, senpai...you were only gone for two minutes! I'm still getting the poster ready--"

"Excuses, excuses," Chinatsu grumbled, "All you need to say is that the Calligraphy Club is classy and amazing and we're going to be doing great things while I'm around! People'll be begging to sign up by the dozens! I'm sure your poster's fine!"

Jacob only just now noticed that there was a 4th person in the room--a pretty girl with long, straight black hair and round glasses, wearing a harassed expression as she was poring over three separate documents on one of the few desks that had been laid out. Her green-plaid ribbon indicated she was a 3rd-year student. She stood up and looked almost pleadingly at Chinatsu, gripping the edges of her desk like a lifeline.

"P-Please, Chinatsu-san," she said in a thin, frail voice, "We really should stick with a script. Most people d-don't like it...when..." She trailed off as Chinatsu shot her a reproachful look.

"Um, and she would be...?" Jacob asked, pointing a languid finger at the girl, hoping to distract Chinatsu enough to stop glaring at her.

"Oh, right, you wouldn't know her just yet--this is our club's Vice President, Fujiwara Emi-san," Chinatsu said tonelessly, "She's in charge of all our official paperwork, and she needs to understand that being assertive is how we get members! Being all polite isn't gonna make people wanna join--"

"Er, I mean, it's a Calligraphy Club," Jacob cut in, "I'm pretty sure that if any club got by on politeness--"

"Oh, sit down and be quiet, Jake-kun," she cut him right back off, "The grown-ups are talking."

"Cheh!" he scoffed, pulling one of the chairs down from the stack of chairs and taking a seat. Not his circus, not his monkeys.

"Alright!" Chinatsu shouted a moment later, "Shinji, you're comin' with me! We gotta go recruit some more members, and I'll show you how to do it properly! Emi, you stay here with Jake-kun and fill him in!"

"M-Me?!" Emi looked positively alarmed, her silky straight hair threatening to frazzle at any moment as she shrunk back into her chair. "B-But...but..."

"Ah, don't worry, he won't bite! Anyway, gotta go!" Chinatsu snatched Shinji by the arm once again, and the two were off, presumably to display Shinji-kun's half-finished poster and shill for the club out by the gates. Now, alone with Emi, Jacob was almost offended by how terrified she seemed to be, all alone in an unused classroom with him. He got it, but it still stung.

"So, uhhh..." he began, hoping to break the ice gently, "What, um, what exactly does a Calligraphy Club even...do?"

Emi fretted with her ribbon for a second. "W-Well, usually, c-club members g-gather together and...and p-practice their brush strokes...w-with different Kanji..."

Jacob growled miserably. "I was afraid of that. So these 'great things' Peanuts says we're gonna be doing is nothin' but sittin' around and drawing the Kanji for 'rectum' or whatever, over and over again? What a joke..."

Suddenly a fire seemed to be lit inside Emi, who stood straight up, knocking her chair to the floor. She didn't even seem to notice.

"Th-That's not true at all!" she said with mousy determination, "Chinatsu-san would never stand for something so mundane and devoid of individual expression as that!" Jacob privately agreed--being so exorbitantly expressive was Peanuts' only good trait, for better or for worse. "We're aiming to compete in the Shodou Performance Koshien in Shikokuchuuou this July!" It was hard to believe Emi was nearly paralyzed with fear just a moment ago.

"Shodou Perform-a-what, now?"

Emi held her hands close to her breast, awash in thoughts and memories of the event. "The Shodou Performance Koshien, where skilled calligraphers from schools all across Japan compete to create works of art through calligraphy."

"Hrm," Jacob crossed his arms, "A competition, huh?"

"Yes. A competition that measures the accuracy of your work, the originality of its composition, and of course, the technical prowess of the performers' dance," Emi explained, a dreamy expression washing over her face as she seemed to be thinking back on a particularly thrilling act.

"Dance?! The hell's dancin' gotta do with calligraphy?"

"Well, writing Kanji is already kind of like a dance for the hand," Emi said, moving her right hand gracefully through the air, mimicking the brush strokes in the name 'Emi.' "So the Shodou Performance just takes that principle and makes it a dance for the whole body, though maybe not quite a dance as you'd normally think of it. And each entrant, team or solo, is permitted to select a music track to perform their dance to, as well!"

Jacob leaned his chair against the back wall, placing his hands behind his head. "Heh. So, what, you could perform to 'Ace of Spades' if you so desired?"

Emi looked alarmed once more. "Wha--h-how'd you know?"

"Huh?"

"Ch-Chinatsu-san said that our performance this year would be coordinated to a song called 'Ace of Spades' by a band called Motaa-something..."

"M-Motorhead...?" Jacob supplied, hesitantly.

"Yes, that...that sounds like the band she said."

No freakin' way, dude. Was Peanuts actually cool? Jacob lowered his arms and leaned in.

"Dance-writing to Motorhead, huh? That's somethin' you don't see every day. Now you've got my attention."

***

About an hour later, when Chinatsu and Shinji returned, they were accompanied by another 2nd-year girl: Mizuhara Yuuko, a pompous-looking girl with exaggerated loopy curls in her honey-blond-dyed hair and caked in so much makeup that she looked like she wandered off of a major movie set. Jacob noticed that her bust size was alarmingly large for someone her age, and she didn't seem too pleased that Jacob was looking at her. Those narrowed eyes positively screamed with vindictive judgement.

"Oh, great," Jacob groaned, "I can already tell this one's got an attitude like Peanuts."

"Hmph!" the girl named Yuuko hmph'd, crossing her arms over her overlarge breasts, "Go ahead and stare all you want, American! You won't get away with anything more than that, with so many eyes on you, though. I'm here because Chi-chan and I go way back, so you'd better watch yourself!"

"What? The hell're you talkin' about, girly?" Jacob shot back.

Chinatsu grinned mischievously. "Oh, yeah, Jake-kun's a gawker, alright. I've already caught him staring at mine, so you'll just have to get used to those hungry eyes, Yuu-chan."

Jacob pounded his fist on his desk before standing up. "Like hell I'd stare at you! You're 'Peanuts' for a reason!" Yeah, that thought he had about Chinatsu potentially being cool? It was long-forgotten now.

"Oh, nooo~ He's checking me out again~ Maybe he's into smaller girls~? What'll I dooo~?" Chinatsu cried out jokingly as Shinji passed her by and put his hand on Jacob's shoulder.

"They were always like this in middle school," he said to his fuming neighbor, "If you ignore them when they get like this, they'll give it up quick. They thrive on the attention." Shinji cleared his throat. "So, everyone, I'd say we have enough members to officially submit our registration."

"Yeah, but it's a little...empty, still..." Emi said, having resumed her paperwork duties just a few minutes before Chinatsu and the others returned.

"Ah, don't worry so much, Emi," Chinatsu crooned, "We'll get more members! They're probably just thinking it over tonight, and tomorrow we'll show up here and find a dozen--no, two dozen potential new members! It'll be great!"

As the clock read 5:29pm, a pair of footsteps could be heard swiftly approaching Class 2-7. Emi perked up.

"Oh, that must be our supervisor. Let's see if I've got everything in order..."

Crossing the threshold, the supervisor for their club just so happened to be...

"Y-Young-san?!"

"Shimada-sa--sensei?!"

Indeed, the lovely figure of Jacob's homeroom teacher, Shimada Kumiko, was the one to breach the clubroom as the Calligraphy Club's faculty supervisor.

"I see you're, uh, embracing the local culture?" Shimada-sensei said in a tone of absolute confusion. If Chinatsu and Emi weren't in the room, she might have turned around and left, under the assumption that she was in the wrong place. But this was perfect! Sure, calligraphy might be a bit of a bore, but if he were to show proficiency at it, the lovely Shimada Kumiko would surely see that there's more to him than meets the eye. It would give him an excuse to see her more often, get to know each other a little better, and then, he could make his move!

"Ah, well..." Jacob began, hoping to sound like he was a seasoned connoisseur of all things cultural, "I just have a deep-seeded love for Kanji, y'know? I just thought I'd...push my strokes to the ultimate limit."

Shimada-sensei narrowed her eyes. "Is that why your writing is almost entirely in Hiragana?"

"Ah-ah-ahhh," Jacob crooned, waving his index finger, "You know what they say: 'The skilled hawk hides his talons'..."

Unconvinced, Shimada-sensei clicked her tongue. "I see. Well, anyway, good luck in your endeavors, Young-san. Fujiwara-san, may I have the club roster and registration sheets?"

"Yes, right away, sensei," Emi replied, straightening the documents and handing them over.

"Thank you," Shimada-sensei said, "Now, that'll be all for club activities today. Hirano-san, Fujiwara-san, please let me know of any new members as soon as possible. I'll be submitting these at the end of the week. And for all of you, take care heading home." With a small, polite bow, Shimada-sensei took her leave.

"Alright, you heard our supervisor," Chinatsu proclaimed, "Let's get our butts home and get ready for another day of hitting the pavement tomorrow afternoon!"

The walk home was miserable. Jacob had Shinji traveling alongside him, which was fine, but until they reached the busy Daiichikeibin Avenue right next to the Skygarden apartment complex where they lived, they were accompanied by Chinatsu.

"Oh, you live in the Skygarden complex?" Chinatsu asked, clearly unimpressed, "Man, you're even more strapped for cash than I thought, Jake-kun."

"You do realize my father owns that complex, right?" Shinji replied, slightly miffed.

"Well, yeah, but your dad's a businessman, so he knows there's a lot of business to be had in renting out apartments to cheap dates like Jake-kun, here."

A vein pulsed in Jacob's forehead. "Uh-huh, yeah, you wouldn't be calling me a cheap date if you saw how much beef I could put away, Peanuts."

"My, my, is that an invitation, Jake-kun? You really are sweet on me, aren'tcha?"

Mercifully, they finally reached Daiichikeibin Avenue, and it was time for Chinatsu to part ways. "I'll get that date from you yet, Jake-kun! Take care~" she shouted as she tore off down the street, towards a more upscale-looking part of Ota City. Jacob buried his face in his hands.

"Shinji-kun, be a pal and shove me in front of a truck," he groaned.

"Hmm, I'm afraid I can't do that, Jake," Shinji replied, "I don't think I have the upper body strength needed."

"Ah, well. Guess I'll just have to live to deal with Peanuts' shit for another day, then..."

Jacob and Shinji said their goodbyes upon reaching the Skygarden apartments, and the former wasted no time in changing out of his school uniform and into his usual denim getup once arriving home. 6:08pm, the Iron Maiden clock said, which meant he had about 3 hours or so to do whatever he wanted with. Sounds like a perfect evening to go to Jogamu Sports Bar, especially in the aftermath of a headache-inducing day like today.

Before long, Jacob was striding through the door of Jogamu and into an environment in which he was much more comfortable: The soft, dim golden glow of the overhead lights, several hanging television screens showing replays and highlights of recent baseball and soccer games, pockets of rowdy patrons talking animatedly amongst themselves...no matter where in the world you go, the pub scene would always be recognizable, and Jacob felt at ease for the first time all day.

"Hey, hey, Jay-kun!" called out a friendly-looking middle-aged bartender whose hair parted in the middle, sporting a pair of rectangular glasses and a rather wispy goatee. "So, today was the big day, I take it?"

"Hah, yeah, you can say that again, Hirano-san," Jacob replied with a grin, as he took a seat in a stool at the corner of the bar.

Jacob had been a regular at Jogamu Sports Bar for the past 5 years--it was the first place he'd ever stopped by for a drink while living in Japan, and he saw no reason to go shopping around for another bar to frequent, when this one suited him just fine. Because of that, he and Hirano-san have spent many an evening together and formed quite a decent bond of friendship. When the news came down from on high that Jacob would have to attend Kameda High, Hirano-san was the first he had commiserated with. Even though it was a friendship purely based on their relationship as customer and bartender, Jacob still counted him among his short list of friends.

"What can I get ya started with tonight?" Hirano-san asked, wiping a glass clean with a rather battered-looking hand towel.

"Ah, get me the...usual...Hirano-san..." Suddenly, a chill went up Jacob's spine. 'Hirano-san'...that surname carried with it a most sinister association now. But it was also a fairly common surname, right? There's no way they'd be the same Hirano...right?

A small glass filled with Jack Daniel's on ice slid in front of Jacob, and he looked down at it with an impending sense of dread.

"Hey, Hirano-san..." he began, cautiously. "You, uhh, you've mentioned you had a daughter, right?"

"Oh, yes, I certainly have," the genial Hirano-san said, pouring another drink for another customer before returning to Jacob's corner, "She's a wild one, I tell ya! Started her second year at Kameda High today." Jacob felt the bottom of his stomach drop. "By the way, Jay-kun, weren't you assigned to Kameda High by the City Office, to get your G.E.D.?"

"Uhh, y-yeah..." he mumbled. God, please no. Please, please no.

"Well, you'll probably see her around at some point," the bartender continued merrily, "She can be a bit forceful, but she's really a sweet girl. Her name's--" At that moment, the door to Jogamu opened, and Hirano-san looked quite surprised and pleased. "Ah, Chinatsu! What brings you to Dad's workplace tonight?"

You can't be serious. There's no possible way. Jacob whirled around in his stool, and sure enough, standing there in a too-large Mary's Blood band shirt, with black tank top underneath, and a frayed pair of denim shorts, was none other than the President of the Calligraphy Club, Hirano Chinatsu. And the joy on her face at seeing Jacob was downright obscene.

"Well, you see, Mom's gonna be staying late because of a meeting and--" Their eyes met. Hell truly was a place on Earth. "Oh my gosh, Jake-kun! I was only half-joking about the whole date thing. I had no idea you were so into me!" Her cheeks flushed and her mischievous smile was positively radiant. Radiant with the pulsing, unholy light of all that is evil, but radiant nonetheless. It brought Jacob no satisfaction whatsoever to see her so happy.

"Well, well, well," Hirano-san said in his friendly manner, "I had no idea you were into younger women, Jay-kun." Jacob slowly turned toward him with an incredulous expression. "Normally, I'd be against it, but you're a good friend of mine, Jay-kun, so I'll give you my trust. But remember this: If you don't treat my little girl right, you'll be answerin' to me!" Hirano-san was really bad at pretending to be menacing, yet the entire prospect of what he was implying was far more horrifying than any fit of rage he could have launched into.

It was the easiest slow-pitch he had ever been thrown, and it was being thrown by a scrawny little brat half his age whom he had zero interest in. Why? Why couldn't Shimada-sensei be the thirsty one? Why did it have to be Peanuts?! These next few years were truly going to be a hellish trial beyond comprehension...