by Shouji Gatou
“Ah, right. Damn, ron...” He pocketed the cigarette and scratched the back of his head. That’s right, this was high school. Of course there were no smoking areas.
We could smoke in the classroom when I was in high school, of course. Everyone smoked, and the wage slave teachers looked the other way, he recalled nostalgically. Ah, I remember the windows, sticky with tar...
Still, this was a serious problem. Would he have to go a whole day without smoking? That wasn’t going to be easy.
While he weighed his options, class ended up starting. First period was math. It was a subject he had no interest in, so he spent half of the class flipping through a book of pachinko strategies, and the other half napping. The teacher caught him, warned him, then told him to solve a problem on the blackboard. In response, he just said, “Can’t” and went back to sleep. The teacher and the students all seemed stunned by his behavior, but as far as Macaron knew, he wasn’t doing anything strange. He was keeping his head down, just like he promised. So with a passing thought about how strange they all were, he just let it go.
They reached the short break period between classes. By this point, he was really craving a smoke, but there was nothing he could do. He endured it and spent the next few periods the same way as before.
So tired, ron... This was boring. So boring. Had classes always been this boring? How could people spend every day in a place like this?
In the middle of fourth period English—he was finding ways to kill time with this and that, when his smartphone suddenly rang. He’d forgotten to put it into airplane mode, which meant the class was suddenly interrupted by some angry 50 Cent rap—a song with lots of “fucks” and “bitches.” The English teacher stared at him, eyes wide, and though he seemed to recognize the words, he chose not to comment.
Macaron checked and saw that it was an email from his ex-wife, urging him to pay his child support and discussing his request to meet his daughter. “Puff,” he cursed under his breath. Why did she have to get on his case, just because the deposit was a little late? He’d been working so hard to get it paid these last two months, too... Darn it.
“Um, Kanie-kun?” the English teacher ventured tentatively. “Please don’t check email during class...”
“Piss off.” Macaron was so annoyed about the email from his ex, on top of already not getting to smoke, that he spoke without thinking.
“Er... what? Kanie-kun, you can’t talk that way to a teacher...”
“Just piss off, ron. I’ve got things to do. So get back to your drone work and stop bugging me.” Crap. I added a copula... slipping into the accent of my homeland, Macaronia. Well, that’s okay. Just roll with it.
The teacher was flabbergasted. He was acting like he couldn’t believe what he had heard.
That’s the kindest response I could give him, and it’s freaking him out? Does this guy ever deal with anything but honor students? Even so, this was high school, Macaron thought. He should probably interact with the teacher a little more like a student himself. So he stood up, hands crammed into his pockets, and walked up to the lectern.
“Wh-What is it?” the teacher stammered. “Are you going to hit me?!”
“Yeah, sorry about that, Teach,” Macaron apologized. “Look, I feel like crap. Mind if I see the nurse?”
Why? He was just acting like a high school student. How had he ended up in the student guidance room, getting a lecture from a crabby gym teacher? It made no sense.
He had been leaving the classroom to find a place where he could smoke while composing his reply to the email, when the gym teacher had dashed out and grabbed him. He knew it would trash Seiya’s reputation if he started a fight, so he went along peacefully. Once in the guidance room, he just said “Yeah...” and “No...” and “Not really...” and other things a real high school student would say.
Once it was over, the gym teacher said: “...Well, you don’t usually cause any trouble. Just be careful in the future, okay?”
“Yo.” After offering another high school-appropriate reply, Macaron was released from the guidance room. It was then that he realized it was probably less important to act “like a high school student,” and more important to act like Kanie Seiya. That’s right. Seiya wasn’t the kind of person who said “Yo.” Hmm. I’ll need to rethink all of this, ron.
It was the middle of fourth period when he’d been accosted, so they were about halfway through lunch break by now. I’m hungry, but I really need that cigarette first. I’m hitting a wall, Macaron thought. I’ll die if I don’t get my fix.
He made it to the fire stairs behind the school, where luckily nobody was around. He squatted behind them and lit a Marlboro, then took in a long breath of that succulent smoke.
At last, he could think clearly again.
It was just then that a girl with a packed lunch walked by. It was Chujo Shiina, a part-time worker at the park. She had worked at Macaron’s attraction for a time, though right now she was Moffle’s assistant, as well as a singer.
When she saw Macaron (Seiya) squatting on the ground smoking a cigarette, her jaw dropped. “Uh... Um, S-Senpai?”
“’sup, Shiina-chan?” Macaron said.
“Huh? Shiina-cha... huh? Wha?”
“I forgot you went here too, ron. I tell you, there’s not a single damn place to get my nicotine fix...” He smiled at her, wryly, but Shiina didn’t return the gesture. She just took one step back, then another, looking like she’d seen some Lovecraftian horror. Macaron (still disguised as Seiya) offered her a cigarette. “Want one? I doubt the wage slaves’ll catch us here.”
“N-No thank you! Excuse me!” Shiina ran away.
It wasn’t exactly top secret as far as the cast were concerned, so he’d planned to reveal his identity to her over a smoke, but she didn’t even give him time to call her back.
...I hope I won’t regret that. Ah well, ron. He smoked another cigarette, then stood up. Maybe I’ll skip fifth period, head down to the shopping district, eat some ramen and play some pachinko.
He was just on his way to the bicycle lot when he heard voices from around the corner. “......?”
It was a boy and a girl, and they sounded serious. They seemed to be fighting about something. Since he wasn’t in any particular hurry, Macaron decided to stop and listen in.
“...What do you mean, a mistake?” the boy demanded to know. “You like me, right, Tsuchida-san?”
“Well... I did,” the girl hedged, “but... now I don’t know anymore...”
It sounded like the boy was angry at the girl. “You don’t know? This is crazy! You tried to give me a love letter yesterday, didn’t you?”
“Well, yes, but... how do you know that, Kimura-kun?” she asked pointedly.
“Huh? Well...”
“Terano-san is the only person I told about that... I knew it was strange that you called me out here!” the girl fumed. “All I did yesterday was put a letter in the wrong shoe cupboard. I haven’t done anything to show that I liked you!”
“Well... we were talking, and Terano asked me ‘How’d things go with Tsuchida-san?’” the boy explained defensively. “I didn’t understand, so I asked...”
“Oh, for... Terano-san, you blabbermouth!” The girl let out a long sigh.
“Anyway, I feel the same way,” the boy insisted. “So that’s that, right? Let’s date.”
“Well, it’s just... after my mistake,” the girl said, “I’m not sure if I want to anymore...”
“That’s nuts!” he exploded. “Did you change your mind or something?!”
As he listened, Macaron tried to work out the situation in his mind. What a mess, ron. Let’s see...
The girl, Tsuchida-san, had tried to give the boy, Kimura-kun, a love letter (how old-fashioned!) yesterday, but she’d accidentally given it to the wrong person. Then today, a mutual friend of theirs, Terano (he didn’t know their gender, but it sounded like a girl) asked Kimura-kun about the love letter, which Kimura-kun hadn’t actually go
tten. Kimura-kun had probably liked Tsuchida-san for a long time, so he ended up getting ahead of himself and calling Tsuchida-san out to talk to him. But a woman’s heart was a fickle thing; Tsuchida-san had already lost interest, and now Kimura-kun was giving her the third degree.
Does that about cover it, ron? Yeah, that should cover it. Mmm, good old teen angst. I’m jealous, ron.
There had been hardly any girls at Lubba-Dubba Melody High (referred to locally as “LubDub Melo”), the school Macaron had attended, and “behind the school building” was a place delinquents hung out. So for him, stumbling upon something like this was a rare and precious find.
“I’m sorry,” Tsuchida-san was saying. “It’s just, I started having second thoughts after yesterday...”
“What the hell?!” Kimura-kun replied. “I’d go out with you in a heartbeat!”
“But I can’t do that when I don’t really know how I feel...” Tsuchida-san trailed off.
“Just because you gave the letter to the wrong person? That’s insane!”
Kimura-kun’s voice was cracking. Macaron pitied him his misfortune of circumstance. He couldn’t stand watching the man spiral deeper into disgrace; as his senpai in life, he should offer him a helping hand.
“Now, now. Let’s all take a deep breath and relax, ron.” Macaron spoke up, interrupting the seemingly circular argument.
“What?!” Kimura-kun shouted.
“K-Kanie-kun?!” Tsuchida-san shouted.
They both seemed shocked.
Oh, do they know me? Macaron (still dressed as Seiya) wondered. ...Also, my accent slipped out again. Well, that’s okay. Just roll with it. “Hey there, you two,” he said, “I overheard everything. It sounds like a real sad course of events.”
He paced back and forth leisurely before the distraught pair. Yes, “distraught” was the word—they looked conflicted by his appearance in a way that “a third party interrupting our lovers’ quarrel” wouldn’t explain. Why? He had no idea.
“You... You were eavesdropping? That’s horrible!” Kimura-kun said.
“Oh, chill out. I just happened to be passing by, ron.”
“R-Ron?”
“Forget it. Let’s talk about you. You need to man up, kid,” Macaron advised. “In times like these, the more you push her, the more she’ll pull away. That’s lesson one.”
“S-Stay out of this!” Kimura-kun told him. “How dare you come here and lecture me!”
“It’s no lecture. It’s just advice, ron.”
“Seriously, what’s with the ‘ron’?!” Kimura-kun demanded.
“Just listen already!” Macaron seized Kimura-kun’s shoulder and drew him in conspiratorially. It was a rather coarse move. Up until then, Kimura-kun had been glaring at him like he might try to hit him. But he was acting cowed now, perhaps intimidated by Macaron’s delinquent body language. “All right, boy... let me tell you about girls. The more you chase them, the more they run, ron. You hear me? What you need is confidence. ‘Plenty of fish in the sea. If I can’t reel you in, I’ll go cast my line elsewhere.’ You know? That’s what you need to make her think, ron.”
“Th-That does sound convincing, but... I don’t wanna hear it from you!” Kimura-kun told him.
“Oh, don’t take it so personally. Everybody’s that way in the beginning. You just can’t stay that way, is all.” Turning now to Tsuchida-san, he continued, “Women who fall for desperate men are an invention of TV dramas. Isn’t that right, ron? My dear.”
“Huh? Ah... yes. No. Um...” Tsuchida-san, who had been watching their discussion, sputtered hysterically in surprise.
“Right? You see?” Macaron addressed Kimura-kun again. “...So anyway, you’re best off walking away until she calms down a little bit, ron.”
“But... but...”
“I know you’re nervous,” Macaron said in a kind tone. “You’re worried that while you’re gone, she’ll start making eyes at some other man, eh? But you’ll never get anywhere thinking that way, ron. You need to be firm. Now if you don’t have that confidence, there’s a way to get it, ron. Do you know what it is?”
“N-No, I don’t!” Kimura-kun said angrily. “I’m not a damned model like you are!”
Macaron squeezed Kimura-kun’s shoulders and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Hit up a whorehouse.”
“Huh?”
“Hit up a whorehouse. It’ll solve everything. The more expensive, the better,” Macaron specified. “Get yourself some experience with gorgeous babes who know the sour from the sweet. Then a little brat like her will stop feeling so special, and you can give it another go.”
“What is this,” Kimura spluttered, “life advice from Kitakata Kenzo?!”
“It’s just the facts, ron.”
“I know... it makes sense, but... but I... I...!”
“Don’t worry. I have a friend who knows all about that stuff,” Macaron said soothingly. “He’ll tell you where to go, ron. They have girls a lot like Tsuchida-san, too, you know? Give me your email address and I’ll send you the info later.” Of course, I’ve never actually been to a place like that myself, he thought. Well, Tricen will probably know something. He’s usually the person to ask in situations like these.
“Huh, for real? I mean... but...” Kimura-kun trailed off.
“Just do it already. So annoying, ron.”
“Ah, right...” While they whispered, Kimura-kun had started typing his email address to Macaron—but then suddenly he realized what he was doing, and let out a shriek. “Wait, no!!!”
“What’s the problem now, ron?!”
“Enough! Why do I have to get a lecture from you?! You’re the one she accidentally gave the love letter to, right? You—Kanie Seiya! And now you want to advise us about the problem?! She’s always liked you, too! And you... your gentlemanly response to her has made this all really complicated!”
His sudden, angry rant struck Macaron dumb for a second. “Er... Seiya... I mean, I did that?”
“Yes,” Kimura-kun affirmed.
“With her?” Macaron asked.
“That’s right.”
“Hrm... That wasn’t in the report, ron. Is this true?” he asked Tsuchida-san. She nodded firmly, her cheeks slightly pink.
“I’m sorry... It’s not like I was trying to pit you two against each other,” she clarified, “but... you were so nice to me yesterday... I started wondering if maybe I really wanted something else...”
“Wow,” Macaron observed. “We’ve got a real phore in our midst, ron.”
“Er?”
“Nothing,” Macaron said innocently. Incidentally, ‘phore’ was Maplese for a certain kind of woman. It certainly wasn’t a polite word—if you wanted to cuss someone out, you might say ‘Your mother’s a phore!’ It was a terrible insult.
Anyway.
Kimura-kun, his jealousy now inflamed, glared at Macaron.
Tsuchida-san was staring at the ground, perhaps waiting for him to play the white knight.
Having joined the conversation halfway through, it seemed that Macaron had missed some crucial information. At any rate, he could see now that his meddling had made the situation more complicated. “...Yeah. Well, you know. Despite how I might look, I, Kanie Seiya, am not much of a man. I’m always getting henpecked by a woman at work. I’m full of myself, strutting around like I own the place. I’m no good for dating, ron. So, like... I can’t recommend it, you know?”
“What are you talking about?” Kimura-kun demanded to know. “This is all your fault!”
“Hmm,” Macaron pondered. “‘All’ might be going a little far...”
“Shut up! You knew that and you’re taunting me, right?! I’m going to give you a taste of all my sorrow, all my anger—right there in your damn front teeth!” Shedding tears of blood, Kimura-kun lashed out with a punch. He was an amateur, so it was blatantly telegraphed; Macaron saw it coming a mile away. But, he decided, he could be magnanimous and let him get some of his anger out.
Come at m
e, boy, Macaron thought encouragingly.
With a smack, Kimura-kun’s fist sank deep into Macaron (Seiya)’s face, but it certainly wasn’t enough to take Macaron down. He just stood, arms akimbo, smiling confidently. “Heh... not a bad punch, ron.”
“...?!?” Kimura-kun was struck dumb.
“But it lacked power. It was weak,” Macaron clarified. “You can’t beat a former LubDub Melo gang leader with a flimsy punch like that. Now... put your back into it! Plant your feet! Put all the power you have into your fists!”
“Um... uh...” But Kimura-kun just stammered as he took a step backwards. He seemed to have lost his will to fight. Rather, his expression was... fear? Why? What was he suddenly afraid of?
“...K-Kanie...” Kimura-kun stammered. “Your head... I mean, your neck...”
“Hmm?” Now that he mentioned it, Macaron realized his line of sight was off, as if sloping roughly 70 degrees to the right. He checked out his reflection in a nearby window. Kanie Seiya’s (in other words, his) neck had snapped a good 70 degrees to the left. In Gunpla terms, it was like the poly-cap of the neck had slipped off the ball and gone hanging. It was rather grotesque. “Oh... that’s not good.” He’d forgotten he was in a costume. Even if it was a magical bodysuit, it still probably had impact limits. He’d need to be careful (...Though actually, he wondered, where was his own head right now?). He grabbed his (Kanie Seiya’s) head and used the reflection to set it back on straight. Fortunately, nothing seemed to be broken, so he was able to get it back to its original position. “Sorry, kid. Now, try that one more time, ron.”
Kimura-kun did not try it one more time. He let out a shriek and took off like a shot.
“...Figures,” Macaron whispered as he watched Kimura-kun disappear around the corner. Boy, he’d buggered this up. He should have let Kimura-kun’s punch send him flying, then said: “You’ve really got guts. Tsuchida-san, this man has a lot to recommend him.”
“So, um... Tsuchida-san?” he haphazarded.
“Y-Yes?!” Tsuchida-san had been standing still, quivering, but she snapped out of her trance and straightened up when addressed. “Um... are you all right? With your... neck...”
