My Childhood Friend Doesn't Know the Extent of my Problems.

“Haru-kun, you’re spacing out again. Is something going on?”

“Uhh…not really.”

“I’m not sure. You always act like that when you want to hide something.” The girl cocking her head sideways and staring into my eyes like a doctor is Ayame Shiritori, who I’ve known ever since I was a little kid. We met because her parents and mine were friends or worked together or something. I lean more toward the worked together theory, because there’s no way my old man could have had any longtime friends.

My dad is allegedly some sort of software person, but I say allegedly because I’ve never seen him do any work. He’s been working from home the past few years. In reality, I think he’s just using it as an excuse to play dating sims on the company dime.

“Fine. It’s my parents again.” I sigh. If I didn’t tell Ayame what was bothering me, she would pester me for days on end. She has a way of finding out things that she wants to know, and also a tendency to get mad when people keep stuff from her. She’s been nosy since we were kids, so I’ve learned how to say just enough to satisfy her curiosity.

“What’s been going on with them?” she asks, her big eyes sparkling. I don’t exactly like this. This is the look that she gets when she thinks she’s going to hear some juicy gossip.

“They’re acting the same as they usually do. You know what they’re like.”

“Hmm…I think they’re very lively.” She puts the tip of her finger on her chin. “But I think that can be a good thing, you know! Tomoyuki-san seems fun to be around, and I enjoy talking to Chisato-san a lot! She's super energetic!”

“You say that because you’ve only ever had to deal with them for a few hours at a time,” I sigh. “They’re pains in the neck.”

She looks at the ground as a downcast expression crosses her face. “I wish my parents were a bit more like them. They're never home. And my brother's been in trouble lately doing God knows what, and they're acting like it's my responsibility...”

“Um…sorry.” I felt like I inadvertently said something I shouldn’t. True, Ayame has been coming over to my family's home in the evenings to pick up food more often than not lately, but I thought it was more about my mom wanting to have an excuse to chat with her about that game they both play than her needing it.

We fall silent for a few seconds, then Ayame immediately perks up and starts talking about all sorts of things. Since it’s still early and I have no desire to talk, I nod and listen. Another thing about her is that she really doesn’t stay sad for long, or hold grudges. Being a scatterbrain has some perks like that.

The walk to school from my house is bog-standard average. We walk through some suburbs, some more suburbs, and some more suburbs, and that’s pretty much it. The only distinguishing characteristic is how the trees look. In the middle of May, the blossoms and their sweet fragrances have already come and gone, and the summer leaves grow green, preparing for the rainy season and then the stifling heat that follows it.

She continues to talk and talk. I’m just enjoying the early morning scenery. Cars move slowly around the neighborhood streets. Beside us, a line of elementary schoolers rush past, their yellow hats bobbing up and down like they’re rubber ducks. They don’t even bother to notice us, and two or three little boys bump into me as they pretend to be airplanes or monsters and such. A frazzled teacher follows behind them, trying to keep them away from pedestrians, and she gives me an apologetic nod as she passes me.

Ten years ago, that would have been both of us. Both Ayame and I would have been rushing to school in those bright yellow hats and dark blue coats, playing around without a care in the world. This was back when I was too young to worry about stuff like homework and relationships and all I could think of was P***mon or going to catch beetles or tadpoles, or climbing the highest rock I could think of, or crossing the stream back behind my house in one jump. Kaede would have been there too. That was back when she was fascinated by everything that I did and would hide behind me whenever she got scared. How did she end up being so rude?

Well, come to think of it, I ended up changing in much the same way. You’d think with how take-charge I was as a kid that I’d turn out to be a natural leader. If my life was a story, as a child I would definitely have been considered a “main character”. I led my friend group everywhere and was always the one that would get them into every kind of mischief. Then we grew up and we grew apart until only Ayame and I were left. As a teenager, I’m definitely in the background. I’m what they call a “mob character”, someone who’s just there, left to watch while the real main characters save the world and do all kinds of awesome things. But you know what? I don’t mind that. It's actually pretty comfortable, in a way. Attention can be a good thing if you are a likable and social person with a selfless heart, but I've also seen the downsides of attention-seeking behavior far more than I care to admit.

We turn right, across a crosswalk, and pass a small park. That red slide is still there. By this point it’s faded to a dull brick after years of getting hit with sunlight, but it’s still the same one from my childhood. It’s the same one that Kaede fell off the bottom of and scraped her knee when she was five, and she wouldn’t stop crying and I had to carry her home. When we were eight, Ayame took a leap off the very top and broke something- I don’t remember what it was, but she couldn’t walk and I carried her on my back all the way to the local hospital. Her mother had to be the angriest I’d ever seen her. Because I was neither a coward or ridiculously stupid, I always ended up having to be the one that cleaned up my friends’ messes.

“Hey! Haru-kun, you’re not listening again!” Ayame’s got something shoved into my face. I look it up and down. It’s some sort of…manga panel, I guess, but it’s drawn in a way that’s nothing more than scribbles. Whatever this is, it’s too crude to have any place in a published magazine.

“What?”

“You didn’t hear a word I said! This is a rare artifact, straight from Mikono-sensei’s workshop! Do you know how hard it is to find stuff like this storyboard that she worked on? Actually, I’m not even sure Mikono-sensei is a she, since no one ever met her. But do you get the point? Stuff like this is rare, and I was telling you how a doujin store in Akiba managed to get this in, and it took me a whole hour's train ride to get it! It cost fifty thousand yen! That’s like all my New Year’s money! It’s that rare! They don’t even know how many storyboards of Mikono-sensei’s that there are in the world!”

“Who’s Mikono-sensei?”

“We’ve gone over this!” Now she’s pouting and she stomps her feet a little. “Miko Mikono! The mysterious manga author who made her debut in 1997 with The Color of My Heart! Taisho winner! Sakubunsha Novice winner! It was even going to go up for an SF-Yusho! And then two weeks before her next series The Verdant Planet is set to drop, she just disappears! All those awards, and she was a rising star of the manga industry, and no one ever met her or saw what she looked like, maybe not even her editor! On top of the world, and she disappears without a trace! It’s the biggest mystery in manga!”

“You know I don’t care about any of that stuff.” I say out of the corner of my mouth. “I grew out of manga. It's for kids.”

“And if it’s for kids, what does that make me?” Ayame huffs.

“Mentally eight years old. We’ve gone over this before.”

“Hmph! You obviously have zero taste in good fiction, Haru-kun. Branch out once in a while, would ya? Expand your horizons!”

“If it’s that rare, why are you taking it to school? Shouldn’t it be hanging up on your wall?”

“Because I wanted to show everyone in class, and everyone on the track team, and everyone in the Manga Research Club, duh!”

“I wish you would put the same effort into your grades that you do fangirling this Mikono person.”

“Oh, shut up, Baka-Haru. You know you’re just as stupid as I am, but at least I’m honest about it.”

“Whatever. If some gross otaku steals that while you’re not looking, don’t cry about it to me.”

She doesn’t say another word until we get in the classroom. The morning sun is shining through the windows and the chatter of classmates fills my ears.

“Hey, Haru!” A chipper voice reaches my ears as I search for its source. It belongs to a tall, smiling boy wearing a sweatshirt under his blazer. “You too, Ayappi!” He doesn’t get a response. “Ayappi, you look kinda pissed.”

“Morning, Tatsurou.” I set my bag down at my desk.

Tatsurou Aikawa is one of the most easygoing people I know. He’s never without a smile, and he always has time to chat with anyone about anything. I swear he looks exactly like a golden retriever- it’s not just because he bleaches his mop of messy hair. He also acts exactly like a dog would- happy to see everyone and loyal to those he knows. Sometimes it gets a little overbearing, but we ended up pretty good friends after we both ended up on the same sports team.

He’s also much dumber than I am. Well, that’s probably not the right way to put it. I don’t think he’s legitimately stupid or he wouldn’t have been able to get into Shinchoushi Academy. Rather, he’s more of a class clown. He’s really good at acting stupid, which makes him an idiot in a different way from Ayame. You know how they always say that people want their friends to be dumber than them so that they look smart, or uglier than them so that they look pretty? I think that’s why people like Tatsu so much. He’s super affable and makes people laugh, so people want him to be their friend. They don’t need to worry about him being smarter, more talented, more attractive, or a harder worker than them. He’s great at reading the room.

Or maybe he really is stupid and he passed the entrance exam to this school based on sheer dumb luck and the grace of the gods, and that means that my friends and family are all idiots.

Wait, if I hang around nobody but idiots, does that make me an idiot, too? Not gonna think about that one any further. I don’t like where it’s going.

“…And get this, stupid Haru didn’t even care! I told him how much it costs and how rare it is and how much time it took me to get it and you know what he said?” Ayame’s going on about that thing again.

“I don’t care about that kind of stuff,” she says in a deadpan, arrogant voice with an exaggerated facial expression.

Was that supposed to be an impression of me? Is that really what she thinks I sound like?

“Huh…” Tatsu rolls his eyes. “Haruto, you’re terrible. You made a girl cry.”

I sigh. “First off, she was not crying, and second off, anyone who would get upset enough over a drawing that they didn’t even make to cry about it really needs mental help.”

“Look at him, he’s doing it again!” Ayame cries. “He’s wounding my poor, maiden heart!”

“It doesn’t matter, man…” Tatsu says in a low tone of voice. “You ought to know what not to say to a girl.”

“So I’m the bad guy here?” I guess I’m sounding a bit more snippy than I’d really like to. I deal with my parents so much that I inadvertently end up getting short with others. “Tatsu, do you know who this Mikono person is?”

Ayame is standing behind him with the corners of her mouth curling into a smile, probably waiting to triumphantly tell me how stupid I am if he says he does.

“Uhh…” He pauses and looks up at the sky, scratching his chin. “I don’t really know, man. I just, like, read Janp and all that.”

Ayame’s smug grin dissipates instantly. “You betrayed me too, Takkun? Both of you are terrible! Of course you wouldn’t appreciate Mikono-sensei’s work. Shonen manga readers only like dumb stories where a couple buff dudes scream and punch each other.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Tatsu laughs. “You’re pretty ruthless too, Ayappi.”

Ayame puts her hands on my desk, looking obviously flustered. “Both of you need to read Mikono-sensei, now!”

I’ve about had it with Ayame and this Mikono, whom she is treating as God, Jesus, and the Buddha all rolled up into one. But unless I do something, she’ll keep yapping about this person until she finds another fascination to torture me with.

…Wait. I’ve got it. I have an idea, a brilliant idea. In fact, it’s so brilliant that it scares me.

Being around Ayame for so long, I know that she loves competition of every kind and that she really, really loves winning. So I’ll appeal to that side of her.

“I’ll read this Mikono if you find one person outside the Manga Research Club who's actually read him or her or whatever this Mikono is.”

“Huuuuuuuuuh?” She draws out the syllable as that smug grin creeps up her face again. “Are you challenging me, Haru-kun? Have you forgotten what happened the last time you bet me, and the time before that? If I win, you’ll read Mikono? And all I have to do is find another fan of hers?”

I admit, I’ve lost a couple bets to Ayame. I don’t want to go into detail about what happened after that. But this time is different, because I know no one except for Ayame and her fellow nerds know anything about some obscure manga author from the late nineties.

“Yes. That’s all you have to do. But when I win, you have to stop parading that drawing around like you won something important.”

“I’ll take that. I can’t wait to induct another believer in the Church of Mikono!”

Now she’s treating this manga author like she’s some sort of goddess or something. They say fanbases are cults. Ayame came right out and admitted it.

“Good luck with that.”

“Speaking of miko, you ever heard that the shrine maidens in Ise can’t eat chocolate?”

“I could never go to Ise…” Ayame moans.

“First off, there’s nothing prohibiting you from visiting. Second off, where’d you hear that? And third off, what’s the point of telling us this?”

“Uhhh…on the internet somewhere?” Tatsu scratches his chin. “It’s really true. Who would make something like that up?”

I know several people who would make a pointless fact like that up, but I’ll refrain from naming them.

“What happens if they do eat chocolate?” Ayame asks. “Do they get excommunicated?”

“They’re not Catholic.”

“So Catholics can eat chocolate? Why don’t they become Catholic?”

“I think the miko care more about serving the gods than being able to eat chocolate. I mean, when you feel like you have a spiritual calling, you want to sacrifice some stuff,” Tatsu ponders.

Again, what even is the point of this conversation? It’s just two idiots going around and around in a circle.

“But I already serve the gods AND eat chocolate at the same time!”

“Then they don’t want you at Ise.”

And we’re back where we started. Are they trying to do manzai? Where’s the punchline? Is Tatsu going to pull a paper fan out of nowhere and bop Ayame over the head with it? Is she going to start reciting Jugemu?

Tatsu keeps going. “But Catholics can’t eat meat during Lent. That means no yakitori, no pork buns, none of that, but I saw somewhere that during the 16th century some priests in South America got the Pope to classify capybaras as fish so that they could eat them, and-”

“RISE!” We all stand at attention as our homeroom teacher enters the room, some eagerly, some not so eagerly. Now, if this was fiction, you’d think our homeroom teacher would be an attractive 25-year-old woman who complains about being forever ruined because she is unable to find a boyfriend. But since this is not fiction, our homeroom teacher is a completely unremarkable old man.

“BOW!”

The day passes largely without incident, apart from Tatsurou getting called on in world history class and getting asked to name the seventh President of the United States, answering Michael Jackson, and making everyone laugh. When the bell rings, I gather my stuff. Ayame waves goodbye before sprinting off to whatever club activity she’s doing today. Technically, you’re not supposed to be able to be in two clubs at once, but she’s such a hard worker that the teachers have always liked her and gave her a pass on it. As I watch her go, I marvel at how she still has so much energy after being forced to sit through 7 hours of lectures. She’s probably off to go pull that drawing out of her bag and talk the ears of the track team off about how Mikowhatsit was a better fiction author than Murasaki Shikibu, Akutagawa, Yoshida Kenkou, Dazai, Emily Dickinson, Chaucer, and Antoine de Saint-Exupery combined, and tomorrow she’ll do the same thing with the Manga Research Club. Meanwhile, I already feel drained.

Tatsurou stands at the door, still smiling. “Ready to go, Haru?” I think that smile is fake, because he’s probably feeling the same way as me right about now.

Practice is next, and there’s a few people I really don’t want to see.