Loss 1: Nukumizu Kazuhiko of Class 2-C

Loss 1: Nukumizu Kazuhiko of Class 2-C

Loss 1:

Nukumizu Kazuhiko of Class 2-C

A WEEK AFTER THE NIGHTMARE THAT WAS FIRST-YEAR orientation, my mind was wandering. Classes had ended and homeroom was all that stood between us and freedom. I had to go straight to the club. Recruiting season was just about over.

Yes. Already.

“Not good,” I grumbled, eyes turned up toward a new ceiling I was quickly becoming accustomed to complaining to. The lit club had welcomed a whopping zero visitors, and today was the last chance we had at getting any.

“I’ll say. You don’t look so hot.”

“We’re just a little hard up for members is all.”

Ayano Mitsuki. His story: Stuff happened with Yakishio. Nothing came of it. He was still denser than a ton of bricks.

“I can’t say I’m surprised after the reputation you made for yourselves at orientation,” said a short, honestly kind of effeminate boy. Sakurai Hiroto, student council treasurer, came up to stand next to Ayano. We’d become classmates now that we were second-years.

“Reputation? What kind of reputation?” I asked.

“The, uh, good kind. Don’t worry about it.”

Nothing like a sweet, white lie to fuel the escapism. I admired Sakurai-kun’s kindness, but the reality was we hadn’t gotten a single interested party.

“But if we don’t get a fifth member, the whole club’s getting axed.”

“Didn’t you only have four at one point last year?” Ayano pointed out.

“Clubs won’t be disbanded so long as they have at least one first-year among their members,” Sakurai-kun answered. “It’s basically a pity measure, so brand-new students aren’t left without a club as soon as they’ve joined one.”

Not particularly relevant for our current situation. The lit club needed any member, period, or we were toast. But this wasn’t all on me. They had some part to play in this crisis.

I looked askance at the girls across the room. Yanami and Komari. The former hung over the latter from behind, like a human jacket, while she chatted with one Himemiya Karen. Komari did not appear pleased with this arrangement, but she was doing a lot better than she would have at the start of the semester. Fewer split ends. Like a fish learning to swim in a new pond, she’d acclimated.

Yakishio, unfortunately, was the odd one out. We never talked much last year, but not having her around felt like a bit of a shame. Especially after we’d only just barely managed to hang onto her after that ordeal with the race. Ultimately, I didn’t presume to call us any closer than when it all started, but I knew one thing for sure—she wasn’t hesitating anymore. She’d been going full speed ahead ever since.

I only paid half attention to Ayano’s and Sakurai-kun’s ongoing conversation. Before long, the door opened, and in came class 2-C’s homeroom teacher: social studies specialist Amanatsu Konami. Whose face I was becoming a little too familiar with at this point.

She rose to her podium and clapped her hands. “Butts, meet chairs. Time to get to business.”

The class trudged to their desks. They’d learned—it hadn’t taken long. But believe it or not, Amanatsu-senpai did not launch into one of her usual tirades. She was in good spirits these days.

Sensei finished jotting announcements on the board, then faced us again. “I’ve got a lot going on, see. Big stuff behind the scenes, big stuff.” She grinned like she thought we cared. “What can I say? I’ve still got it. Demand is high, and stock is low. Shame there’s only one of me, eh?” Unable to contain her own smug aura, she started smacking the podium. Based on the nuggets of info she’d dropped now and then, I’d arrived at a theory regarding this sharp change in mood: Sensei had peaked. “Gosh, who’s leaving all those likes? For the record, those don’t work on me! Sensei’s got principles, so don’t you dare think I’m easy!”

I now had a new theory: dating app. Uh-oh. Did Amanatsu Konami truly have the power to tame such sorcery?

Finally, and probably not at all influenced by the impatient gazes of her students, she thwacked the podium with the class roster and said, “All right, dismissed! Get home safe, ya rascals!”

***

Ennui. That was the word I would have used to describe the club room that evening. Komari browsed the bookshelves, but her eyes were looking past them. Yanami was entranced by a video of butter melting on her phone. Panic was giving way to resignation.

That was the worst thing to happen at a time like this. I stood up from my seat and proclaimed, “Look sharp, guys. Today’s the day. I can feel it.”

Yanami reluctantly raised her head with a sigh. “We had a whole week to get visitors and didn’t get a single one. What makes you think today’s gonna be any different?”

“That’s exactly it. It’s because it’s the last day that there’s a chance.”

“H-how do you figure?” Komari asked apathetically.

“Who joins the lit club? Timid introverts, that’s who. Can you blame them for getting cold feet after orientation?” Self-burn. I still had nightmares about that disaster. “So if anyone’s going to join, it’ll be today. When it’s their last chance to work up the courage. We need to be ready to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.”

“‘Last chance,’ he says…” Yanami griped. “They can literally join whenever. It doesn’t have to be during the visiting period. Why are you so sure we’ll get someone today specifically?”

I figured she wouldn’t get it. Komari and I exchanged knowing looks and shrugged.

“Look, for people like us—me and Komari—it is our last chance. Just barge into a club full of strangers after it’s socially expected and accepted? Not likely. For introverts, it’s always us versus the world.”

“I really don’t think the world’s out to hurt you.”

I begged to differ, knowing what it had done to her.

“N-Nukumizu-kun,” said Komari, “should we b-bring out that ?”

“Right. That . Suppose now’s the time,” I said. I brought down a cardboard box from the top shelf, pulling from it another box.

“No way, are those turtle monaka from Okamedo?! I love those!” cheered Yanami.

“Our senpai left them behind. Said they might help out with the recruiting. That means they’re not for you.”

“Um, hold on, why were those hidden up there anyway?”

This, in my professional opinion, went without saying.

I handed the box to Komari. She frowned at it. “Th-these are expired.”

Well, crap. There went that plan. Yanami snatched the box while we despaired.

“She just said those are expired,” I told her.

“Dude, you seriously believe in expiration dates?”

And thus, another Yanami-ism was born.

“Why are you talking about them like they’re Santa Claus?”

“Listen to me, Nukumizu-kun. You know why they call ’em ‘best-before’ dates sometimes? Because sometimes all they need to be is good.” She bit into one of the turtle-shaped, red bean-filled confections. “Yup, still good. Bon appétit, everyone.”

I knew a losing battle when I saw one. We acquiesced and started snacking. Eventually, my phone rang. The tone of a certain iconic film about a giant shark. I knew the sender at once: Konuki Sayo.

Checking the message preview on my lock screen, it read, “Paging Prez to the infirmary. ♡ ”

Prez really did not want to go to the infirmary.

Komari took a peek while I pondered an escape route. “Wh-what?”

“Konuki-sensei wants me. Kinda busy, though. You mind going?”

She croaked. “N-no, thanks.”

I did not blame her.

Yanami opened her fourth monaka. “Think we’re getting disbanded?” Komari and I jumped up, but she just calmly sipped her tea. “I mean, that’s on the table if we don’t get members, isn’t it? It’s the last day to give club tours. Figure she’s probably dropping us a warning or something.”

When she was right, she was right. Rare as it was. It only took one look at fidgety, anxious Komari for me to make peace with my fate. Seemed I was taking a trip to the infirmary.

Boy, did I not want to, though.

***

There was a certain procedure when entering the Tsuwabuki nurse’s office, and following it was a matter of grave importance. First: Turn on the lights and open the curtains. Then blow out all candles (because of the fire hazard, obviously). Don’t forget the mood lights. Those had to go out too. If possible, check for cameras. When speaking to her, it was always best to do so in the company of another, but failing that, ensuring there was at least a table between you would suffice. Always take the seat closest to the door.

Then, and only then, was it safe to interact with the entity known as Konuki Sayo.

“Some herbal tea. Drink while it’s hot.” She placed a teacup in front of me.

“Thank you,” I replied carefully. “May I ask what this concerns?”

“Do I need to have a reason to chat?”

“Ideally, yes. I’m busy.” I took a sip.

“Time certainly hasn’t mellowed you out. How’s your tea? You drank it, didn’t you? Or do you have a particularly strong stomach?”

“Did you spike this with something?”

She smiled. Time to retreat. But just as I made to stand, she pointed a long, slender finger at me. “Let’s talk about how recruiting has been going.” There it was. I settled back into my chair and took a breath. She lowered her voice to a cloying purr. “How are things?”

“Well, er…”

Before I could come up with an explanation, she continued, and what followed stunned me. “I can introduce you to someone who might be willing to join, if you’d like.”

It was so unbelievable, and yet so perfectly timed, that I practically flew from my chair. “Yes! Thank you! We’ll take anyone and everyone!”

“Well, that certainly makes my job easier.”

“Wait. Can I consider first?” There was no such thing as a free lunch. Maybe this wasn’t as perfect as it sounded. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, but still. “Who are they exactly, and why the literature club? The way you phrased it, it doesn’t sound like they’re the one who wants to join.”

“She’s just having trouble fitting in is all. I want to be there for her, but, well, circumstances.”

“Circumstances.”

Konuki-sensei parted her lips for a second, then closed them again. Picking her words. “She’s the little sister of a friend. I’ve known her a long time, but that friend’s a teacher, see. There’s concern of favoritism. I was hoping you kids could step in for us.”

Circumstances, indeed. I didn’t doubt that she was genuinely concerned for this girl, and given her status as faculty, I could see how paying her any special attention wouldn’t go over well. Especially if they already knew each other outside of school.

A friend of Konuki-sensei’s. Right.

“And this friend of yours is…?”

“Not a man, rest assured. I don’t make friends with men. Would you like to know why?”

“I’m good, actually.”

She explained that it was a friend from her college days. She’d been a year below Konuki-sensei and Amanatsu-sensei, but the three of them had been, and I quote, “locked at the hips.” The potential recruit was the friend’s little sister, a first-year named Shiratama Riko. She was a bit of a misfit among her peers, something Konuki-sensei hoped the lit club might remedy.

“You sure that’s a good idea? I wouldn’t exactly call us normal,” I said.

“Well, I trust you and the girls, and that’s what matters. Also, I think you two actually share some things in common.” She lifted her cup of tea and smelled the fragrance while I wondered what that could mean. “Riko-chan’s very protective of her sister. It’s caused no shortage of problems for her.”

“I’m not protective of my sister.”

Konuki-sensei smiled. “I’m told she’s fond of you in a similar way. Given your firsthand experience, I think there’s a lot about Riko-chan’s situation you can relate to.”

“Oh. Well, I guess. Sure. I’d say my sister and I are on pretty good terms.” I wasn’t sure I totally followed what she was getting at, but I definitely knew about clingy siblings. Honestly seemed like an occupational hazard for all little sisters at this point. “All right, yeah. We can meet her in the club room tomorrow. No harm in that.”

Konuki-sensei shook her head and handed me her contact details. “She’s actually been suspended, so she won’t be here. You’ll have to go to her yourself.”

“Can I reconsider?”

I held the contact details back out to her. She took my hand, closed it over the paper, looked into my eyes, and shook her head again.

***

The next day after school, Yanami and I took a brisk, twenty-minute bike ride to Aeon Toyohashi Minami, colloquially known as Nan-JUS. The food court, to be precise. Why had we gone so far out of our way? Why else? To interview our curious candidate, Shiratama-san. Komari had weaseled out.

Yanami, sitting next to me, one elbow rested casually on the table, looked up from her phone. “Hey, so I get ‘Nan’ is ‘south,’ but what’s the ‘JUS’ part of Nan-JUS?”

“Used to be called JUSCO before we were born or something. I assume it comes from that.”

“Oh, so kinda like how my gramma calls APiTA ‘Uny.’”

“She calls it what?”

“I dunno. Apparently there used to be a Uny.”

Had to have been twentieth century. Before our time. We kept rambling about this and that while I kept my eye on the people passing by. Lots of students, but no one from Tsuwabuki.

“She’s coming in her uniform, right?” Yanami asked. “Wonder who exactly this girl is.”

“The school year’s hardly started and she’s already suspended. Feel like that paints a clear enough picture.”

She crossed her arms and smirked knowingly. “Sukeban. I know the type. Rough and tumble. Bet she throws a chain around and everything.”

“You’re stuck in the wrong century, Yanami-san.”

At least I hoped so. I was starting to feel like pulling a Komari. Yanami’d sacrifice herself for me, right? I started calculating viable escape routes.

Then something started beeping.

“Be right back!” Yanami darted off with one of those wireless pager things. The kind for telling you when your food was ready.

She’d ordered something? Literally when ?

She sauntered back carrying a tray, placing one of the items on it in front of me. Steam wafted from the white broth (how you knew it’s legit). Tonkotsu ramen from Sugakiya. Returning to her spot next to me, she took up the fork-spoon hybrid utensil appropriately called a “ramen fork” and started slurping noodles.

“Why did you order this for me?” I asked.

“It’s rude to sit in a food court without food, Nukumizu-kun. Plus, Konuki-sensei lent me some money for drinks.”

“So you bought ramen.”

“It’s got broth.”

I silently agreed to disagree and picked up my chopsticks.

That was when she nudged me. “Hey, isn’t that her? Tsuwabuki uniform.” Slurp.

I followed her eyes to a small girl looking a little lost outside the food court. Sure enough, she wore a Tsuwabuki uniform. She looked about as tall as Yanami actually, but her willowy limbs gave her a more petite frame. Fine hair hung just past her shoulders. From afar, she almost looked like a doll.

Whoa. She was cute. Like, seriously cute. No way this was our delinquent.

Relief visibly filled her expression when she spotted us. She tried to make her way over, fighting against the tide of local students going the other way, but it wasn’t much of a fight really. She lost it in no time flat.

“Think she’ll be okay?” Yanami asked as the current continued to sweep her away.

The sight of a frail girl being consumed in a sea of human bodies did not inspire me with that confidence. Yanami had to go drag her back over, and by then the girl’s head was spinning.

She collapsed into a chair. No one send this girl to Tokyo.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Y-yes. Thank you.” The girl lowered her head. “I’m Shiratama Riko. From class 1-E.”

“I’m Nukumizu. The club president. This is—”

“Yanami-senpai. Right. Thank you again for coming to my rescue.” She lowered her head.

Her savior shot her a thumbs-up as she scooped a menma shoot into her mouth.

I studied the stranger closely. She looked pretty darn innocent to me. Girly girl. Cute as a button. Emphasis on the cute. I’d come to know many a good-looking girl recently, but when it came to sheer “must protect” vibes, no one inspired me to crusade on their behalf quite like this one did. She’d been suspended? As if she could hurt a fly.

“So, um, I heard a little bit from Konuki-sensei,” I said.

“Right. She wants me to spend some time with you all in the literature club.” Shiratama-san turned her eyes up at me. “But I don’t know a lot about books. I hope I won’t be a burden.”

“Oh, no, that’s not—”

“Yeah, books are hard,” Yanami interjected. “Took me a while to find my footing, but you’ll get there.” She twirled her fork-spoon with the great smugness of a senpai.

More beeping.

Yanami raised the pager high as she stood. “Hear that? It’s time for dessert—I mean, Shiratama-chan’s welcome party!”

***

“The dame’s rockets by the river are particularly beautiful this time of year.”

“Really? Wow. Good to know.”

“I’d love to show the both of you sometime.” Shiratama-san ate the last of her anmitsu then politely put her hands together and thanked us for the treat.

Meanwhile, I sorted through my growing mental notes on her. She’d picked up sewing from her sister. She liked sweet treats. Didn’t do well with crowds. Most recently had gotten into early morning walks. In summary: She was cute. Very cute. I made sure to write that in red ink.

She turned her eyes up at me again. “I’m so sorry for rambling. I can be so annoying sometimes.”

“Not at all. I’m glad one of us is a conversationalist.”

“Only because you make it so easy.” She stuck her tongue out playfully. Now she was just doing it on purpose.

“Nukumizu-kun,” Yanami cut in. “The cream in your zenzai is melting.” Oh. Right. Forgot she was here. Her second bowl of ramen, ordered in place of dessert, already lay empty. She chugged her water, then noisily set the glass back down. “You sure you don’t wanna wash all that down with some ramen, Shiratama-chan? We’ve got gomoko gohan too, if you prefer rice.”

“I’m okay, thank you. I should be going. I have to be ready to answer a phone call from my teacher by a certain time every day.”

Another thing I’d forgotten. She was suspended.

Shiratama-san stood, took her tray, lightly bowed, and then made her way to the counter to drop off her dishes. Before being stopped by staff because she went to the wrong counter.

Once she was gone, I said, “Well, that’s a relief. She’s not so bad. What did you think, Yanami-san?”

She stopped glaring at the bottom of her bowl and started glaring at me. “I think you two sure talked a lot.”

“That’s kind of why we came here. To get to know her. Would it kill you to be nice?”

“All I know is I sure learned a lot about what your type is, apparently.” She thrust her ramen fork at me.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like, Einstein. Ugh . Men. It’s always the young ones.”

For crying out loud, she was one year younger. Was Yanami seriously that petty?

I scooted my cup of red bean soup over to her. “Haven’t touched it. Want it?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

I’d recently read in a book that when bringing a new dog home, one had to be mindful of the old one. Advice that would translate well to my current situation. Somehow, I could already smell the trouble brewing.

I downed the rest of my water.

***

Yanami and I left the mall. It was getting dark out.

“Look, all I’m saying is you can’t seriously be that easy.”

“Implying that’s even what this is about. You sure you aren’t just being jealous for no reason?”

Two large bowls of ramen plus half of mine plus a cup of zenzai did not equal a happy Yanami. Shocking given just how many calories that was.

She checked her wristwatch, then sped up, paying zero mind to my own pace. “She’s suspended for a reason. I’m telling you, there’s a catch to Little Miss Cutesy.”

“And I’m telling you it’s probably complicated. Seriously, how can a girl like her possibly do any wrong? Did you see her?”

Yanami gave me a look. “Not as well as you, apparently.”

Oops. Right. Mindful of the old dog. I cleared my throat. “Let’s put judging her aside. If you were suspended, I’d have your back.”

“The difference is I wouldn’t be!”

Hm. I had my doubts. Frankly, I’d been wondering for a while when she’d finally snap.

Suddenly, Yanami tugged my sleeve. “Hey. Girl in that car. Is that…?”

“Huh?”

I looked just in time to see the passenger door fly open on a parked car. It was Shiratama-san. It looked like she was arguing with the driver. About what, I couldn’t say. Whatever it was, it seemed we’d caught the nasty tail end of it.

Shiratama-san stormed off, and a man in a suit hopped out of the driver’s seat next. What was strange was I swore I recognized that oddly age-ambiguous face of his.

“Oh my god, isn’t that Tanaka-sensei?”

“What? The Japanese teacher?”

I squinted at him. Those rounded shoulders. The frazzled vibes. That was Tanaka-sensei all right. He’d mingled with the lit club on occasion, even passing along a flyer full of writing-related events to me one time. The question was, what was Shiratama-san doing in his car?

He followed her for a few steps but clearly got told off, because he didn’t make it far before trudging back. He drove off shortly after.

“The heck was that about?” Yanami said, breaking the stunned silence.

“Maybe he’s her homeroom teacher?”

“He’s 2-F.”

Tanaka-sensei was a stand-up guy. Serious about teaching, good at it, and he genuinely cared about his students. And, apparently, he and Shiratama-san were entangled in a…spat of sorts.

“Told ya,” Yanami chirped. “Always a catch.”

I wanted to argue but couldn’t. So I just grinned like an idiot.

***

Two days after witnessing whatever it was we witnessed between Shiratama-san and Tanaka-sensei, I quietly made my way through the old building. It was after school, but I still took extra care to make sure I wasn’t followed. Once certain I hadn’t been, I slipped into the dingy darkness beneath the staircase.

“Right on time,” said my accomplice. Student council vice president, Basori Tiara. Notably from class 2-F. I was 2-C, so it had been a while since I last saw her. She took one last cautious look around at our surroundings before slinking further back.

“Sorry about this. Weird ask, I know.”

“A favor for a favor. Your tutoring has been helpful.”

I almost called her out on the fact that I didn’t tutor her that often but thought better of it. She handed me several documents. “I believe this is what you were looking for. Treat this information with prudence.”

The first page was titled “Tsuwabuki High School Investigative Report—Tanaka Yuuji.” I nodded and flipped to the next. This was his third year teaching language at Tsuwabuki, and my second with him personally. Slightly older than Amanatsu-sensei and Konuki-sensei.

“Interesting. He was at Mikoshi High School before?”

“He came highly recommended too. I hear only good things about him in my own class.”

I couldn’t get what we saw out of my head, so I’d asked Tiara-san to do some digging for me. But maybe I was just being paranoid. Still, no way that’d been a plain old teacher-student interaction. So what had it been?

I stopped turning pages. “Tanaka-sensei was the lit club’s supervisor?”

“He was, before we enrolled. But only for part of the year.”

Tamaki-senpai had implied there was a story behind us not having a supervisor before. I never did hear it.

Tiara-san stepped closer to me and lowered her voice to a whisper. “This is only hearsay, but allegedly there was an incident involving him and a female student in the past.”

Now that was unexpected. He didn’t seem like the type at all. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, to call Tiara-san crazy, but after what I’d seen with Shiratama-san…

“He that popular with the ladies?” I asked.

“I’m not sure, but every girl has a story about a young, handsome teacher they once had a crush on.”

“Yeah? Does that go for—”

“Me? No. It doesn’t.” Yikes. Defensive much? “But the gentle, soft-spoken types often have the quietest admirers. Speaking entirely objectively, of course.”

Huh. I’d always figured the bright and sunny ones to be more popular. Guess the done-with-life types filled a certain niche. No judgment. Everyone had their preferences.

A thought occurred to me. An incident with a female student. Used to be the lit club’s supervisor. Maybe those things were connected. Maybe he even had something to do with Shiratama-san’s suspension.

Tiara-san peered at me.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“Why the sudden curiosity?” she asked. “Has something happened between you?”

“Not with me.” I thought twice about spilling about Shiratama-san. “I’m just interested. That’s all.”

“Interested?!” Tiara-san jolted. “N-now look, I’m a very open-minded individual—”

“Okay?”

She started shuffling her feet in a nervous fit. “Not that your genders have anything to do with it, of course, but I can’t be involved in anything scandalous between a teacher and a student!”

“What are you talking about?”

“You want him, don’t you?!”

“Uh, no?!”

“Rest assured, your secret is safe with me! I’ll even turn a blind eye so long as—”

“So long as nothing! There’s no secret to keep!” I’d clearly trusted the wrong informant. I had to smooth this over somehow. “I was just considering switching supervisors, and Tanaka-sensei was on my mind.”

“Is there something wrong with Konuki-sensei?” Tiara-san considered what she just said, then frowned. “I understand.”

It wasn’t a lie if it was mostly true.

“My apologies then. Considering you could have gone to Sakurai-kun, I leaped to conclusions.”

“I thought about him, but he’s on the student council. I can’t expect him to keep a secret on the off chance things turn complicated, given his position.”

“You do remember I’m on the student council too, don’t you?”

Right she was. I evaded her scathing gaze and did the only thing I knew could right this wrong: lie. “Well, you’re, uh, in class F, so I figured you were a safe bet.”

“I do pride myself on being tight-lipped, I suppose.” Tiara-san drifted off, thinking, then giggled to herself. “All right. Consider my door open to future developments from now on.”

“Wait, really?”

She stepped out of the shadows. “On the off chance things turn complicated.”

I had said that. I nodded. Tiara-san twirled to face me, finger raised up to her lips. “It’s kinda fun, sharing secrets.”

***