Idol Star System Generation: Season 1

by R. P. Mor

  Chapter IV – The Best and the Worst

  The sudden, loud alarm from her cellphone almost made Naoko jump to the ceiling. Used to being carefully woken up by her mother, getting kicked into action by a digital sound was not the most pleasant way for an easily startled girl. But the moment she remembered it also meant there was no one there to demand anything either, her morning got shiny.

  A quick shower was all she needed to kick-start her senses. She was so tired the day before that she forgot to ready her obentou, the lunch she’s supposed to eat on school. Though since she hadn’t brought her yellow lunchbox from home, she wouldn’t have much of a choice anyway. And since she didn’t have time to buy any food, or cooking apparel for that matter, she’d have to endure school with what she’d eaten the day before and acquire the needed objects and supplies later that day without fail.

  Before coming to the capital Naoko had also dreamed about her first school day, and it began with her getting of the bath to find a neatly folded school uniform on hangers by the door. Too bad she didn’t hang it the night before, so she had to dig through the semi-organized pile of clothing bags her producer had bought her on Sunday to find her vest still wrapped. It was nice, still, because it gave her the sensation her weekend had been incredibly productive, and the sense of urgency was also exciting. Her new uniform was also sweet: white shirts with blood-red laced chest ribbon and pleated skirt, completed with black stockings and shoes. It was sober and simple, but just wearing it and going to a new school was enough to thrill her. After everything, she’s already on time to leave, but couldn’t do so before checking herself out by the small mirror by the bathroom and applying her thin, discreet eyeliner.

  Many students had already left the building by the time Naoko left her room. Still there’s plenty of people waiting for the elevator or climbing down the stairs. As the girl rushed down too, a short, nervous silhouette found her on the fourth floor. With a big grin stuck on his face as if his mouth had been stitched into position forever, neighboring weirdo from room below caught a glimpse of her as he clearly waited by the first step, though as she also noticed him he began moving like he just so happened to be passing by coincidentally while Naoko was too. Thankfully the girl was already on a rush to begin with, and he began leisurely strolling down the stairs while following her with the corner of his eyes, so he’d have no reason to change his pace – if he did so she’d get desperate. Despite hesitating for a second, Naoko ran down as fast as possible. The boy, attempting to be casual, waited until she’s passed him to feign he’d noticed her, and when he tried to say something his voice didn’t come out. As such, Naoko simply lowered her face as if to tread down the steps with care and also playing the game of make-believe. Pretending not to notice her neighbor’s axe-murderer-like frantic smile, she bolted down and fled. Thus, Naoko got away safely.

  Just as she got to the bottom of the stairs, under the ceiling that surrounded a large, open courtyard with nothing but a few sparely distributed potted plants, a short man called out to her in a serious tone. Though his voice was kind of high-pitched and bore a few diction problems, his dry hair was brittle-looking and his built was slender, the man in his fifties commanded a surprisingly unabashed and unwavering conviction as he instructed:

  “Miss, excuse me. Janitor Yamamoto here. I ask that you don’t run while on the stairs. It’s dangerous and is written on the rules.”

  At first his eyes seemed ice cold, but the girl barely noticed it. Just that his voice was funny but also that he looked a decent, hardworking man. The time he took to explain her that was enough to make her smiling friendly psycho-like neighbor almost catch up. Lightning-fast, Naoko replied in the cute, smiling way she knew from experience she could employ to get her through a few tight spots, though not without restart running away afterwards:

  “Okay, sorry and thanks for the tip! But now I’m not on the stairs anymore and I’m kinda late so bye!” On the run, she shouted back, “And nice to meet you!”

  The janitor, though unhappy, couldn’t do nothing but wish her a distant “be careful!”. Though she couldn’t see, the crestfallen grinning guy from the room below got his hopes back after seeing the incident. After all, the girl was late for class! At first he’s on the impression she just tried to avoid him like other people usually did, but no, Naoko was just worried. He could forgive her for not noticing him, he thought. He agreed he’s so frightened when he saw her that his voice didn’t come out, so she could just not be paying attention. Also, the way she smooth-talked and dismissed the warnings of the imposing and scaring Yamamoto-San like it was nothing, and the usually authoritative man could do nothing to prevent her from continue doing as she pleased fascinated him beyond measure. Even though being nice to him, she’d something that tamed even the rigid law enforcer’s drive to impose rules on her! At least that was his take on it, according to how he wanted to see the situation.

  She’s even better than he initially thought, and sweet too! No way a girl like Naoko, who could bend the rules to her will, would need to drop by his door and give him a simple but obviously heartfelt present he loved just out of politeness. She even lived on the floor above, so it wasn’t all that necessary in his opinion. He didn’t think of himself as an important person, but that beauty still introduced herself to him nevertheless. Maybe she really liked him or was destined to, despite acting aloof. It’d only make sense in the grand scheme of things that was the narrative of his life, where unsung hero and main character Fukuda Katsuro had a chancy meeting with a gorgeous, too perfect to be true and seemingly unreachable girl that’d forever change his life! It’s a common plot device, and one he’d been waiting for all his life! Though it still didn’t make sense how she knew about him to take an interest in first place.

  Unless… she had some kind of real supernatural powers! Or maybe she’s a time traveler trying to prevent mankind’s last hope (which was obviously Katsuro) to fall prey to his gloominess before a cataclysmic event sent Earth spiraling down into chaos! If so… if so she’s even more amazing than he’s taken her for! Sure, he’d already painstakingly understood that no such things existed in real life and such expectations only made him suffer even more… but what if something supernatural really existed?!

  Unaware of the plot twist heavy narratives that took place on her creepy colleague’s mind, Naoko hurried away. The dormitories were a block away from school, and the girl had already been there once while looking for institutes. Still, she’s seen only a tiny fraction of its insides. The high school was a huge building, easily more than three times the size of her previous institution. It had a clock tower that gave the otherwise unassuming building a classic feel. It was a well-established school founded in eighteen ninety of supposedly high-quality standards of education, which to Naoko meant “old place with demanding, boring professors”, but it was the most respected and the biggest of all three she’d deemed viable when she looked for it while staying on her uncle’s apartment. Since its education was considered top-notch, it was a positive aspect she used to convince her parents to let her go, and the “biggest” part meant more people and, thus, more fun to her.

  On the first of its four floors it got two panoramic windows, one on each side, a later addition to the architectural project for sure. A swimming pool with a grandstand, a theater, a multi-purpose court, racetracks and other facilities were cramped together, but just having it showed just how big the terrain was. Maybe the square-meter price was not as ridiculously high centuries before, or people just liked big schools for the elite at that time.

  The monthly fee of that institute was just as big as its location, and Naoko really hoped she got paid by the first week of the following month or things would get ugly. The I.S.S.G. also offered some scholarships for high schools and universities, but only for idols of Fire class and up, so no money-saving for her until she’s improved her standing by a lot.

  Two last-minute arriving boys hurried through the main gate besides Naoko, i
f only to make her feel she’s not alone. The male uniform was very eye-catching, a suit composed of dark-red coat and tie, white shirt and black pants and shoes. Naoko’s favorite colors, in order, were purple, blue, white, black, red and yellow, so red and black weren’t on top of her list, but despite loving blue the girl admitted that many things were much better off being of a deep crimson than of a cyan, and uniforms were one of those things. She absolutely loved it.

  To arrive late at the first school day she’s had, which was also the second week of classes, was not a nice way to begin. Classes started at seven o’clock and by nine a.m. there was a thirty minute break that Naoko simply loved. Compared to her previous school, it meant ten extra minutes! Still, it was compensated on the first month by extra classes after the end of the regular ones. After another half an hour break for lunch by midday lesson continued until three p.m. Those extra few hours each day only happened during April and were meant to give transfer students or those that didn’t learn the previous year’s contents well enough a recap so that, starting on May, everyone could be expected to have the basic knowledge required for that year. In reality, some teachers simply kept on their lessons instead of recapping, though.

  The exasperated girl managed to reach her class, the fifth one of second year, before the gray-suited professor began the lesson. Seeing from behind brown-framed glasses the ashamed girl by the door, the mid-forties man went talk to her. He’s the same height as her, which made him less than impressive to her, but his brown hair had a few gray strands that looked very good on him. He’d a dignified posture, and with elegance received her after she apologized and explained herself.

  The class was a spacious room with a wall full of large windows both to the outside and to the corridor on the inside. Many rows of chairs were neatly organized along the space, almost every single one occupied. As she was let in by the professor a room full of people she’d never seen before turned to face the new, stunning student with stylish, long and shining black hair and enviable figure.

  “Class,” the teacher called, “I’d like you all to welcome Yano-San. She’ll be studying along with you all from now on. Yano-San, would you be so kind as to introduce yourself?”

  It was generally an uncomfortable situation, but Naoko usually paid no mind to it. Pumped up by the run, she energetically introduced herself:

  “Hello, I’m Yano Naoko! I transferred this week from Shimabara. It’s a pleasure to meet you all, please be nice to me!”

  It was a custom to ask other to take good care of someone as they’re made acquaintances. Her teacher gave her freedom as to where to sit, but there were only three open spaces. One, surrounded by boys, seemed like a bad idea for now. Another, by a window and surrounded by girls, looked awesome, but the instant Naoko was free to decide, a female classmate with long, dark-brown hair sitting on the first row politely invited the newly arrived colleague to sit on a third open chair diagonal to her. Naoko wasn’t the kind of person that liked to be on the second line, much rather preferring the back of the classroom, but to refuse that invitation would be rude. The arguably beautiful girl that called her had no time to say anything since class began immediately after, but the way she paid close attention to the lecture, wrote everything the teacher said, had an obsessively well-organized notebook and generally seemed like a perfect student already told many things about her. She sometimes didn’t seem too interested on the class subject, but forced herself to keep up with it nevertheless.

  Contrary to what Naoko was expecting, the old institute actually had up-to-date teachers that weren’t half as boring as she thought, though their classes were just as content-heavy as she came to assume it’d be. Accustomed to relying on her keen senses to absorb knowledge from the teacher’s voice waves as if by osmosis, she found herself actually having to jolt things down. Her previous school was by no means bad, but Naoko was already familiarized to the way things worked there and could study with a foot on the back. The education system on her new high school was different, though, requiring her to focus on her studies for once.

  By the end of the first class the dark-brown haired girl, just as tall as Naoko if not slightly taller, finally got to introduce herself. In a semi-polite way, she told while slightly bowing:

  “Excuse me. I’m class president Horiuchi Miwa. It’s okay to call me Miwa, though. I’d like to welcome you to our school. It’s nice to meet you, I hope we get along well.”

  “Me too,” Naoko replied, standing up to talk to her classmate. Once again, she introduced herself, “I’m Yano Naoko, but just call me Naoko.”

  “Understood,” Miwa said, “So, Naoko-Chan, I believe it’d be good if I introduced you to the rest of our classmates. Would it be okay for you?”

  Despite acting like a model student and a bit formal at first, president Miwa was actually a very nice person – which was good for a change, since Naoko’s experiences with class presidents left her wary of such people. Miwa quickly proceeded to introduce Naoko to her friends before the second class began, and kept presenting the newly-arrived girl to the other students every time they had a minute to spare.

  A few boys were really handsome and for the most part seemed interesting enough. Just one acted too nonchalant for her liking – to be cool was a nice thing, but to act aloof made her quickly lose her interest on him. Luckily almost every other guy in class appeared interested in talking to her, to various degrees. She knew boys well enough to know they usually tried to seem calm and not overly interested at first when meeting a female classmate, but soon opened up. She could almost feel how well her friendship would go with most of the guys in her class. They had many common grounds, it appeared. It looked promising.

  The female students were a whole other beast. At first many seemed guarded, almost like they’re intimidated by Naoko. It was a common thing with her, they simply usually took longer to warm up to her, and this made Naoko slowly develop during her life her perception bias that girls – though not necessarily adult women – were just a pain to befriend. If it wasn’t for the warning Aratani gave about exerting care once she became more well-known not to be seen by reporters alone with boys, she’d not bother to get too close to her female classmates, only letting things naturally develop.

  In fact, it was frustrating when close friends, most often than not boys from abroad she only knew through the internet, asked her for advices on how to approach girls, because even though Naoko was one she had no clue how to do it too. A few of her real life male friends actually seemed to know more about it than her. One guy called Norio, quite the ladies’ man, once told her the reason he thought girls were usually so abrasive or shielded when first meeting her was due to jealousy and fear she’d outshine them. Between that and her father, Naoko had good reasons to be humble and not trying to bring her best side at first, but it also restricted her style too much.

  Even though the capital girls seemed more open and a few even applied very light makeup, Naoko never had a hairstyle, polished nails and well-cared skin like she did now, so her first expectation was to be even more shunned than before. And the female classmates of her classroom initially didn’t seem too happy with her presence, too, but president Miwa’s intervention was a godsend that bridged the gap between Naoko and her class.

  Since the transfer student was so easygoing and energetic, acting the opposite of whatever negative first impression she could unknowingly give off, Miwa got a sudden interest in her. After hearing from Naoko she got late because she’d been on a show the night before the class president’s eyes got filled with life. For a girl that sent off such a stern and perfectionist aura to demonstrate a liking for live exhibitions was more than Naoko could ask for.

  The president seemed to like to hear about how awesome it was to be on a huge dome full of people, lights, music and energy. The class president, who delighted in hearing about awing social situations, found a girl that could talk for hours without going out of topics and enthusiasm, and her remarks about thi
ngs she found particularly noteworthy easily amused her listener. Miwa told her that if it wasn’t for her younger brother, who she had to look after since her parents worked till late hours, and supposing she had the money to buy a ticket and a friend to go with her, she’d love to watch a gig like that. It was unprecedented for females her age to open up so quickly to Naoko, but once they did it’s fairly normal for them to develop incredible friendships.

  Since Miwa and Naoko have gotten along so well, and the other girls could see the transfer student was so charismatic, uplifting, funny, easygoing, approachable and not in the least conceited, by the break a small group formed around her and the class representative. One asked Naoko if she’d gone alone, which she replied negatively. By that time she asked herself about whether or not it’d be okay to divulge about her job which hadn’t even begun yet, but there wasn’t much of a choice since the others immediately inquired if she’d family in Tokyo, or friends, or even a boyfriend. The girl felt some anxiety about revealing she had a producer and a job at an idol agency, as if the others could suddenly turn sour for whatever reason, though even Naoko couldn’t quite explain why she felt it. Perhaps because of her friend Norio’s jealousy shield theory. Eventually, the hesitant girl wound up explaining the one who paid for the show, and the only one she knew in Tokyo with the exception of a distant uncle, was her producer.

  All the girls around her became incredibly agitated all of a sudden. They showered her with questions regarding if she’d performed in the show the night before, how many fans she had, how the life of an idol was, if her parents encouraged her and more. A few sounded clearly defensive, like if men in general paid just as much attention to her as the fawning boys in their class, to which Naoko honestly answered she didn’t notice any special attention from them, even though many of her classmates argued she’s probably just used to it, because in their point of view the instant the transfer student first stepped into the class all male students became strangely quiet and focused.

  Defusing that awkward situation, Naoko quickly and truthfully replied she really used to get lots of attention from boys, but it’s expected since she loved things they commonly did too like videogames, cartoons, comics, cosplay shows and so on. Her anecdotal recordings of many situations of how she used to hang out with boys took a turn for the quirky and funny, lighting the mood.

  As Naoko came to expect, they had little interest in such trivialities despite all having recollections of a few manga and anime they liked when they’re younger. In Miwa’s case, it’s her brother who importuned her about those things, always wanting a new game or the next volume in an ongoing series of comics, a magazine or other things she considered stupid, but which she had to buy him nonetheless since she’s responsible for her home and the kid to begin with. To see that Naoko knew about most of the stories Miwa said her younger brother liked, and the way the transfer student excitedly summarized every one of them, though, made her and the other girls laugh. Miwa told her there was another idol in the school, on third year, but that she’s nothing like Naoko, acting much more the famous and untouchable part.

  The transfer student’s comical, slightly crazy, unabashed and positive ways rapidly put her classmates at ease with her and their questions scanning for potential threats she could represent subsided. If it wasn’t for the class president, Naoko would’ve probably not had the opportunity to show them how she was, but because of Miwa they ended up knowing about her boyish tastes and a few ridiculous situations she’d gone through because of it. The most recent of which had been with her producer on a shopping mall, and how he tried to buy her clothes while the girl tried to convince him to buy a game. Even though they had only a limited amount of time, the glimpses of her old life, her courageous moving to the capital, the producer Naoko painted as an amazingly cool, laidback but also dependable, knowledgeable and funny guy, her amusing work and such piqued their imagination in a hard to believe way. Naoko was one of those people able to make any situation, no matter how absurd, look hilarious when told, from clothes-shopping turned Kamijira’s rampaging stroll to having a creepy neighbor waiting for her as if he’s plotting an ambush, and this quality kept her “audience” breathlessly following her anecdotes among laughter and never-ending chains of comments.

  Eventually one of them asked Naoko why wasn’t she lunching like everyone else, and the girl reluctantly explained them she didn’t have time during that weekend to prepare accordingly. Miwa, and instantly the other girls, promptly offered her a small portion of each one’s own food and made her at ease to accept it. They’re the best, Naoko came to realize as she gladly ate and narrated her frenetic weekend, to her classmate’s entertainment. At a time almost half of the female students of 2-5 were listening to her dream-like reenacting of the facts surrounding her two previous frantic days.

  Naoko had planned to go explore her school during the break, but it turned out much better than she could’ve hoped for. Also, Miwa offered to show her the facilities the next day, including the many clubs she could get in. Overall her class was easily the one Naoko liked the most in all of her life, being quickly accepted and having a fantastic president who’s also not a prick like every other one she had before. It’s also the first time she’d known almost nothing about the boys. Sure, she saw a few looked hot; one short student looked the clown of the class; another one had a darker skin tone and his voice was never heard; two had actually been talking about games when she overheard them and so on, but it’s nice to feel welcomed by the girls without all the drama for once.

  After the lessons were over, Naoko was invited by one of them to watch a training from the female soccer club. The short-haired, slightly chubby girl who extended her the invitation told that they urgently needed more players. Since Naoko was one of the tallest girls from her class, seemed in perfect shape and looked the type of girl who liked to exercise she could perhaps enjoy what she’d see in the drill and get interested in joining the ranks. Naoko already had her karate classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but she opted not to divulge that and watch the training.

  She had little interest in team sports for some reason, but while she watched from the grandstand the girls aimlessly running through the emerald-colored grass field, Naoko saw from a distance another big group darting around the tracks that surrounded it. It looked like there was an athletics competition club in the campus. Now that’s a thing she could see herself doing.

  The sun had almost set down when Naoko left the field area. The empty corridors gleamed with an orange hue and long shadows filled her with peace and made her remember the first song she heard the idol Umeko sing, about the reminiscences of a person graduating. It’s amazing how memorable that lyric and the woman’s interpretation was. Maybe that’s the meaning of her sky-high “Memorability” scores. That high school felt like a sanctuary by the beginning of evening, with the last rays of sunlight covering the terrains and flowing through the windows of classrooms and hallways. Humming Umeko’s song, Naoko crossed the main building from back to front and left the school with a smile. It’d been a fantastic first day.

  Combing the city after an ATM to withdraw some money from her little reserves that Naoko had left from her saved allowances and from what her grandparents had given her, she then proceeded to buy food, plates, kitchen wares, a nice lunchbox and more. She bought all she remembered needing for the days to come and painstakingly brought everything back to the dorms. As soon as the encumbered girl reached the building courtyard while aiming for the elevator, she noticed someone approaching her.

  A quintet of bad-looking boys surrounded a single male student and talked loudly over a corner of the open area. Grouchy faces, legs spread, arms folded or with hands tucked in their pockets, wearing the dark-red buttoned coated variants of the school uniform in a lazy way, with extravagant hairstyles, they looked like nothing but bad news. Even then, Naoko had a few friends and acquaintances that were that way but deep down were very nice guys. Still, when one of the five s
aw her and came in Naoko’s direction, head down and eyes up on her, his sight almost covered by a topknot reminiscent of a seemingly new take on the classic pompadour hairstyle, only with less volume and a few wild spikes, her muscles tensed up.

  As the bad-looking boy, almost two inches shorter than Naoko, reached her, he asked in an informal but, in a twisted way, respectful manner that she already knew very well:

  “Hey, sis. Haven’t seen y’around before. I know I wouldn’t forget a lass like ya. Seems like y’could use a hand, sis. Lemme help ya, wouldja?”

  The first time Naoko was approached by a guy like that, she’s genuinely scared. She’d heard horrible tales of that kind of man, and how they didn’t accept no for an answer. But it turned out that below the walking trouble attitude, all the boys she wound up knowing that put up that show were very respectful with ladies they liked. Norio, that womanizer who’d told her about his impression that her first impression was usually intimidating to other girls, turned out to be a boy who always protected her. Not that she needed it, but still. He usually passed a line or two on her too, so Naoko wound up getting used to it – not to mention it eventually became more of a joke than anything.

  Thanks to Norio she’s able to appreciate the compliments and jokes Aratani sometimes used, instead of being crept out. She already knew when it meant business and when it’s just for laughs. She just never allowed Norio space for trying his charms on her, but she nevertheless assisted him many times. She discovered that a guy accompanied by pretty girls looked much more appealing to other girls, and just by sticking to him and his friends she’s already of invaluable help. Also, she sometimes eased other women’s fears towards her friends, just because it’s fun to be useful and hang around with them. She knew almost every girl and boy of her hometown, and it included both the nice guys and the bad boys. On the second kind Naoko was aware that they could be awesome people as long as she passed the first, dangerous layer of imposingness they presented.

  It wasn’t common for a person to accept help, be it from strangers or acquaintances, or at least not without refusing it a few times first, but he didn’t look like his question was actually a question. Rather, it’s an announcement that he’d be helping her. And to be frank, she’s carrying so many bags it’d be kind of welcome. Still, with some reticence, Naoko answered:

  “I’d refuse to be polite, but you probably don’t care about it, right? Here, take it.”

  Transferring most of her weight to his strong arms, she sighed in relief. That guy was just like a couple of others she knew back from Shimabara, when they’re around sixteen, which made her comfortable. Perhaps a little too much, but that’s what experience was all about.

  “Hey, thanks for the help,” looking over his shoulders to his four friends intimidatingly surrounding the poor boy, a scene that made her uncomfortable, Naoko asked sarcastically, “So, I suppose your friends over there aren’t just calling that fella to play cards with you guys, right?”

  In a dismissive way, the pompadour guy replied:

  “Pay the boys no mind, they’re just chatting. So, where to, sis?”

  Feeling sorry for the seized boy and seeing that everyone around pretended not to see that, Naoko faced the serious-looking guy with a stern expression. He acted just like the boys from a few streets down her house, which she already knew, but he wasn’t one of them. If she acted too familiar and demanding, things could go bad, but if she’s right about her gut feeling, they could respect her wish as long as she politely asked for them to let that boy go. It could be nothing, but it could also turn bad for the outnumbered student. Taking her chance to smooth-talk the bully, she played along.

  Directing herself to the elevator, she commented on his last sentence:

  “Right, you guys are just chatting. If you say so, it’s okay. I’d hate to come out tomorrow morning only to discover your boys didn’t keep you word, though.” Getting in the elevator and pressing the fifth button, she quickly added before the boy had to answer that rather acid comment, “You guys live here or just came here to chat?”

  The bully, who seemed ready to answer her sharp comment on the same level was thrown off. Nodding from behind the bags, he replied:

  “I live here, that’s why I thought of helping out ya. The boys are here just to visit me.”

  “You live on which floor?” Naoko asked. Since he’d see where her room was, the thing she feared the most, it’s at least fair to know his floor in response. The boy went farther, though, and replied in a firm, bold way:

  “Forth, room 426. Wanna come to my room, sis? You’re a utopia, girl. I wouldn’t mind to chat alone with ya.”

  Forcing a laugh, she valiantly retorted in a way he was not expecting:

  “Yeah, right. Sorry, boy, that’s not how it works. I don’t even know you and the only things I know so far are that you’re a gentleman, but the way you “chat” gets me worried. You just chat like that with men or…?” Suddenly she noticed something and cut her courageous statement mid-sentence, because it interested her more, “Hey, you said room 426? You’re wall neighbors with that… how do I put it… “happy” dude from room 427? How… how’s it like?”

  Getting her acid remark, the boy grinned for a second. As the elevator came to a stop, he let Naoko get out first and followed her, replying:

  “Heh. Yeah, that freak’s right next door. Why? Know him?”

  “Can’t say I do, thankfully,” Naoko answered getting in front of her room, 527, “but I tried to give my neighbors a present when I got here and, well, turns out he lives right below me.” Resting her bags on the floor, she insisted, “That guy. He’s… not dangerous, right?”

  “Not if you’re a man,” the bully replied, also putting the objects carefully on the floor, “but can’t say for you, sis. Can hear naughty screams from anime girls like things gets rough on them all damn night long sometimes. Guy’s into kinky things, I think. And dude’s in my class. Does nothing but draw the whole time. All women are scared of the boy, even more than they’re scared of me. Guy’s a beast.” After a brief pause, he inquired in a concerned, protective way “Why? Is freak bothering ya, sis? If so, just let me know.” In a hardly ever smiling face, he told her, “I’m Handa Daiki. Daiki for ya.”

  For once Naoko was really glad she’d known that guy. Like she imagined, he could be respectful. Smiling gladly, the girl nodded, saying:

  “Yano Naoko. You can call me Naoko. Thanks for the offer, Daiki-Kun. That’s really appreciated. That boy didn’t do anything too suspicious so far, but if he does, I’m happy to know I can count on someone. Thank you.” After a while, she remembered, “Oh, and thanks for helping me carry all this stuff up here too! Much appreciated!”

  Staring at her smile for a few seconds, Daiki tucked his hands on his pockets and turned back so she couldn’t see his face. Dismissing his deeds, he said:

  “Tsc, that’s nothing.” After a brief pause, he added, “Know what? I liked ya, sis… I mean, Naoko-Chan. If that freak tries anything funny, y’know where to find me. I promise I’ll have a chat with him for ya. Later then.”

  As soon as he waved goodbye without looking back, sounds from a commotion started on the ground floor. Daiki and Naoko walked to the parapet to see what happened. On the courtyard below, illuminated by cold lamps, one of Daiki’s friends held the outnumbered boy tight while the other three surrounded a short man, bumping on the mid-fifties, pushing him and facing him centimeters away from his face. From his high-pitched voice plagued by diction flaws, it’s obviously the janitor. In spite of being surrounded, the man insisted on not retreating and loudly commanded:

  “You boys have no business here! Get out before I call the police!”

  “You crazy?” one of the surrounding bullies, with such a short hair that it almost looked clean-shaved if not for millimetric stubs, asked informally, “We’re doing nothing! Just hanging ‘round with our chap. Right, chap?”

  The bully casually holding the fearful boy faced him i
ntensely, and the “chap” hostage, terrified, told something in a voice too low to be heard by Naoko from the fifth floor, but the voice of Yamamoto-San demanding their retreat and the succeeding threats the boys told him were perfectly clear. The girl, turning to Daiki, pressed him while watching the scene:

  “Daiki-Kun, what have you said exactly about only chatting? Now that janitor guy got involved, and maybe the police will too.”

  “None of your business, sis.” Daiki stated, trying not to seem too offensive though. Facing Daiki, Naoko tried to persuade him the way she knew it worked back in her hometown with Norio and the other bullies: believing in them and showing concern with a demanding attitude:

  “Hey, I know you’re a nice guy and you helped me out. I’d hate to see the police on you, and you also know that janitor can kick you out of here. I don’t know what that boy did to you guys to make him deserve it, but unless it’s worth getting problems with the cops and thrown out of the dorms, make them stop it. Also you promised you’d be there to protect me if I need! Will Daiki-Kun break it the minute after you made it by getting into trouble?”

  Butterflies had started to fly around Naoko’s stomach after she pressed the bully into a retreat, but if that continued his friends would probably hurt the poor janitor and the boy, and Daiki would most likely get evicted from the dorms, so even if he turned on her, she’d probably not be seeing much of him anymore. The pompadour boy stared down for a few moments, contemplative, before grinding his teeth and shouting down, not really caring if he’s causing trouble for someone:

  “Oi, boys! Let’s go. Not worth the trouble. We’ve got better things to do anyways.”

  “Eh?!” one of the bullies, the tallest of all, with the hair thrown to one side forming a wave, exclaimed, “Whatcha say? Who made ya leader to call us off like that, eh, Daiki?!”

  “That’s my dorm here, I’ll be the one paying for the trouble,” Daiki replied, “Ya got me covered on that, eh, Fumio? No? Then let’s get outta here. Not worth the trouble.”

  Seeing the silhouette of Naoko beside Daiki, the Fumio dude yelled:

  “That’s not like ya! Ya following orders from that lass over there now?!”

  “Nope, but she’s got a point.” Daiki hesitantly retorted under the tense eyes of Naoko, “I’ve a promise to keep here. Can’t go getting kicked out ‘cause of a stupid argument. Let’s not bother. Fumio will get what ya want another time.”

  “You’ll pay for calling me outta action like that, man! You, me, outside, now!” Fumio threatened. Facing the others, he issued, “You heard, lads. Daiki needs to hear stuff. Let’s do it.”

  Visibly irritated, the bullies released the janitor and left. The one holding the boy, pushing his head away, said as if he thought to be insulting him:

  “Saved by a girl? You’ve no shame, dude? Catch ya later, loser.”

  Not having occurred to Naoko until then that Daiki could maybe not be the leader of the group, she became suddenly worried by what that Fumio boy said. Turning to Daiki, she found the boy already leaving, with his hands in the pockets. Rapidly she rushed to him, saying:

  “Daiki, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to get you into trouble. Where…?”

  “We got ourselves into trouble by choosing this place to close on the dude,” the guy, with distant eyes, told her, “None of your business, Naoko-Chan. Don’t worry.”

  “I’m not the one who should be worried, after the way that guy threatened you!” she insisted, “Let me guess: you think it’s okay to go meet them outside and fight there, right? You against four?”

  “Me against that dude who threatened me, that’s all,” Daiki replied.

  Naoko stopped following Daiki. She wasn’t quite sure about what she’s doing, since she’d only met that guy for about a minute. And to say he’s going to fight because of her was a lie: like Daiki told her, they had chosen to ambush that boy on Daiki’s own dorms, so whatever problems that arose of it, including a police blitz, would’ve been their fault. To show Daiki he’d be screwing himself over something he’d already done wouldn’t cause problems for anyone not already involved in that quintet, and in fact she didn’t even wanted to meet him in first place. He’s the one who came intrude. The instant Naoko understood it, she stopped and let him go. Contrary to her hometown friend Norio and other guys she knew, who just pretended to be bad boys to mingle with women, drink, smoke and have fun while underage, that quintet was actually troublesome for others big time. When the similarities between her old town’s acquaintances and that boy she just met faded, her care for Daiki went with it. Whatever he’s going to do, he deserved it in the first place. Also, for as much as it’d be nice to have help with the weirdo from 427, it wasn’t worth the trouble of getting on the good side of bad, gang boys.

  She returned to her room through the almost empty corridor, packing all of her acquired goods inside. She prepared her obentou for next morning in her new violet and black lunchbox. After that she went to bath. The crystal-clear water drops that fell suddenly got colored by the red lights of police cars that came from inside the small window inside the shower box. In all fairness, it’s exciting, but she couldn’t see anything down below and didn’t try too much anyway. She just sat down, letting the warm water wash her worries away. When she left the bathroom the police had already gone away. After that she finally found some time to play videogame for the first time since she’d been transferred, and finally slept.

  On the next morning, starting her mood-swinging period, Naoko once again took a quick shower, a custom she had when waking up and going to bed. Water soothed her. After getting out hurriedly and evading the awaiting smiling boy who once again thankfully was unable to muster up courage to bid her good morning, thus allowing her to pretending not having noticed him, she darted away. As soon as she got on the ground floor, an already well-known voice called her:

  “Miss, I must again ask that you don’t run on the stairs. It’s dangerous,” the janitor insisted. Just as Naoko, too absorbed in running away from her grinning neighbor to remember the instruction, apologized and was about to get away, Yamamoto-San lowered his voice and told her in a polite way, “Excuse me, miss, I know you’re late and I regret for the trouble, but can I have a moment of your time for an important topic?”

  Sensing his seriousness, Naoko hesitated. She didn’t want that Katsuro boy from room 427 to catch up on her, but she also felt she couldn’t turn down on the janitor’s request. The man, with a grave semblance, said while bowing:

  “I’d like to thank you for your timely intervention last evening. It helped us greatly…”

  “Don’t mention it, it’s nothing.” Naoko quickly replied, noticing Katsuro appearing on the stairs. Just as she’s about to leave, the janitor proceeded:

  “…but I’d also like to ask that you take care with that boy from 426. Do you know him?”

  His question sounded rhetorical, though he’s caught off guard once the girl, already caught up by the weirdo who stopped to discreetly overhear their conversation, explained herself:

  “No, I’ve never seen him before. I was passing by when he came to help me with some bags. I saw those guys bullying that boy, so I felt sorry for him and asked the guy who helped me to stop it, because he’d bring problems to himself that way. He decided on his own to do so, however.”

  “Oh,” the janitor interjected, looking ashamed for some reason, “Since you convinced him on halting that absurd, I thought you already knew him or had some connection with him in some way… or something.” Bowing, he apologized, “I’m deeply sorry for the misunderstanding and for taking your time, miss. Thank you again for your help preventing aggressions last night.”

  Under the impression he had thought she’s Daiki’s girlfriend, Naoko hesitated to respond, though she ultimately asked:

  “No problems. Just tell me, do Yamamoto-San know what happened to that boy?”

  “Handa Daiki-Kun, you mean?” the janitor asked, “He got what he asked for. He got injure
d during a fight last night and was taken to a hospital.”

  “Oh… is that so?” Naoko replied simply. She kind of felt bad for him, but mostly she didn’t. Not one to pretend, she answered without emotion, “Too bad for him. Hope he gets better, though. Well, I’m off then.”

  Leaving the dorms hurriedly, Naoko got away before Katsuro tried anything. The boy would actually do no approaches this time, though, so absorbed he was linking the facts he already knew, about the incident the night before with some gang members that almost hurt the janitor and a student with all he’d heard from his room and his own imagination. Judging from what he heard, that girl had even commanded a dangerous guy she’d never seen before! The more he began conjecturing that marvelous girl taking pity upon the miserable boy being harassed down there and ordered that rascal from his adjacent room, 426, to put an end to it, the more incredible it became. That Daiki guy studied in Katsuro’s class, meaning he’s also Naoko’s senpai, and he’s scary as hell, but even then, was it through psychic powers or just her charms, she could control him! That made his mind overflow with created scenes and narratives.

  Aside from him, that day was as good as the previous one in school. Everyone on her class already knew about her job and the number of girls that came to listen to her increased. Even a few boys stood nearby to hear her answer another round of wild questions with more anecdotes that, for some reason, made people laugh. The way she told her friends how’ve been her test to be accepted as an idol, with her mental images of blond companions and skirted turtles, made a girl laugh so hard at the wrong time that she choked with her own food. A handsome boy nearby pointed out that Naoko should ingress the drama club. He and a timid girl from across the room, that sat alone near a window, were the only ones from 2-5 there, but the club was fairly big. Even then, in his opinion Naoko was expansive and unafraid of crowds. She could grab a central position in the next play without a problem.

  “Ah… thanks for the invitation, but I’m actually shy on stages… when it comes to theater plays.” Naoko retorted, and it was true. For whatever reason she had problems every time she tried to act on a school theater. Seeing how Naoko looked outgoing, the three times she performed she’d received rather good characters: a princess, a two-tailed cat turned woman and an ice witch. The last two had been respectively the main heroine and main antagonist. But despite performing admirably on the rehearsals, when it came to the real deal she almost didn’t manage to pull it off. In fact, it scared her a bit that she could feel the same onstage as an idol, though she betted on her accumulated maturity since last play to pull her through. She added that she’s shy on stages when it came to theater plays just not to put her career in doubt in front of her classmates, but it could be true. The way she felt afraid at the beginning of her singing and dancing tests still made her nervous about her first performance.

  To cohobate with the thesis that the drama club could help her overcoming her anxiety, the charming boy, still smiling a beautiful smile from Naoko’s last recompilation of stories, called an isolated, short and dark-haired girl by the window that looked the cityscape through thin-lensed glasses with a distant sight and a melancholic look. As she heard Takumi’s voice calling her, the girl immediately snapped out and brightened up, almost dropping her lunchbox.

  Turning around, she found most of the class grouped together around the new student looking towards her. It froze the girl on the spot, her shy smile prettified. The pretty boy inquired eagerly:

  “Shiori-Chan, isn’t it true that I, you and many others came to the drama club to overcome our fears of talking in public and that it helped us a lot?”

  “Y-y-yes…!” the timid girl responded in a barely audible way, still trying to seem happy.

  “Don’t you think Naoko-Chan, who’s much more extroverted than us, would probably benefit from it a lot too?” he continued, with a positive, eager attitude. The dark-brown eyes of Shiori slowly glanced at the joyful, energetic, hilarious, unearthly good-looking idol girl who’s the center of the attention of Takumi and most of her class, and her cold fear melted in an even worse face of melancholy than she had before. Nodding against her will, she murmured an almost inaudible and sorrowful “Y-yes…” while looking down to her plain lunchbox.

  Meeting Naoko’s doubtful eyes, Takumi tried to explain it:

  “Well… Shiori-Chan is still a bit shy, but that’s part of her personality. Even then, the drama class helped her a good amount. I’m sure it could help Naoko-Chan! Don’t you want to come take a look at it? Give it a chance, and maybe you’ll like it! I’m sure everyone’ll be happy to have you there with us.”

  The way that Shiori girl looked at her and nosedived into a sad state got Naoko minimally uncomfortable. Hearing about how “everyone” would be happy with her presence on the drama club (which she wasn’t too fond of to begin with), she replied with an evasive “I wonder.”

  After the lessons and before she left for her first day in the new karate dojo, Class president Miwa briefly showed Naoko the school and the female and mixed clubs. Poetry and literature, archery, drama, soccer, basketball, calligraphy, athletics, swimming, volleyball, painting, gymnastics, philosophy, table tennis and more. There was a wild variety, though only a few got her attention. She could participate in up to three clubs, thought Naoko would be happy if she managed to cram two in her agenda. She got interested by archery and athletics, mainly. She also loved to swim, but as she discovered, athletics already encompassed that since it presented competitions for not only various track racings but also triathlon. But since she had until the end of April to decide, she postponed her decision taking.

  Just as they’re finished, Naoko noticed Miwa hadn’t shown her the roof. Some schools had leisure areas on their rooftops, surrounded by protection grids. Her older school had it, and it’s a blast to chill out there during breaks, enjoying the scenery. And, from the ground, it looked like that high school also had it. As she mentioned it, though, Miwa replied heavily:

  “Yes, we have it here too, but… It’s where a few unsavory characters dwell. There, and by that creepy alleyway behind the school once classes are over. Since last year no one goes to the roof anymore. It’s just not worth the trouble.”

  Judging by the last school gang Naoko saw, she could understand why people tried to avoid it, though she didn’t know if there were other groups, and Miwa seemed blissfully unaware of how many claimed the rooftop terrace theirs. She didn’t want to know, in practice.

  After the school Naoko waited a little and took a train to her new dojo, cleaning her makeup away as soon as she got there like she always did before trainings so the sweat didn’t ruin it. It was an amazing classic style building at the outskirts of a distant and slightly more arborized ward and the trip there was long, but well worth it. A huge training area full of portraits and decorations over the wooden-covered walls made Naoko happy just to be able to see it. Under the sunset lights that came in from a few wood-framed windows, lots of students trained there. Naoko’s class was in a rush hour, well after school and of many kinds of work, so lots of teenagers and adults looked for it. Aside from a single, short woman around twenty-five or so, two grades higher than her, Naoko was the only other female student at that hour, among the seventy or so karatekas.

  Unlike in the school, where she’d been lucky with the girls there quickly accepting her, there’s no such luck in the dojo. As soon as Naoko presented herself in her white vest and blue belt, three of the more advanced students excused themselves from talking with the other female karateka and came to welcome the new trainee. The woman there became adamant and cold in such a clear way that from that point on she just responded in monosyllables when asked by them. It’s such a clear-cut change that even Naoko, who’d only seen the woman for fifteen seconds, could notice her gesture-filled speech get retracted. In this sense the only body language class she did was already enough to let her notice that the other female student assumed a defensive posture throughout the whole class
.

  There was not too much to be done about it, though. The three students that came to salute her were all black belts and directly instructed by the dojo master to supervise the new trainees. They had most likely welcomed that woman too years ago, when she first came to train, and if she hadn’t developed friendships with other students, she’d probably been stuck to talking with her own instructors for years. And even though they also supervised other rookies, it’s only when they came to help Naoko that the woman’s expression from the other side of the area changed to a sour countenance.

  Besides her, everything was nice. The three students were all around early thirties. The shortest of the three being a bulky, positive and funny blond guy with a warming smile framed by squared jaws. The tallest of the three was particularly charming, sporting short black hair in an executive-like haircut and an athletic body. The other one, though also handsome, was silent almost all of the time and presented medium-length hair. They made quite the trio and despite their black belts, were very accessible guys. Thanks to them Naoko quickly got accepted by the rest of the class, and on her first day there they kept a close eye on the girl, testing her abilities to assess what did she know and how good was Naoko at it.

  The class in general was very supportive to her, even though the girl was not that bad herself. She knew how to evade and defend, and even though her arms’ blows were kind of weak, her kicks were stronger and quicker than her instructors had expected. She liked many forms of martial arts and had watched many movies and videos about it. She knew if a man the size of one of her supervisors attacked her, trying to protect herself with her arms would be ineffectual, but the human body’s legs had far more potent musculature. Even the female body, with less dense muscles, could use it to great extents. Naoko, who already had strong legs by genetics to begin with, could break many planks with them easily. In a real-life situation, a well-applied kick could potentially fracture bones. Also, one of her favorite forms of defense relied on joint attacks. A kick from the right angle could easily turn an elbow or a knee in the wrong direction. It wasn’t common practice in karate as it was in some other martial arts, but joint attacks existed all the same.

  That wasn’t to say her arms would be useless in combat. Her previous master had taught her about how to open space between an assailant and her if he tried a grab by positioning the lower half of her hands on the upper part of the attacker’s throat and pushing it. He urged her not to apply blows in this part, because it could actually kill a person. And since that part of the body has little musculature to protect it from frontal hits (though a lateral blow could be cushioned), any attack could dislodge the column and shatter vital air-flowing channels. Even if the person survived, he could still be left tetraplegic. She could think it’d be okay to hit a big, muscular attacker in that area imagining he’d not fall for a girl, but she would be wrong. As such, while to push that area to keep assailants at bay was okay, to hit it was not and should only be used if that was the only last resort she had.

  Other techniques she knew to protect herself in a real situation were taught by her friends who practiced different kinds of martial arts and self-defense trainings. A few weren’t even fair play, like groin blows, eye-aiming hits, tympanum-shattering slaps on both ears, nose-crushing palm attacks and so. Every one of those could be employed as a desperate resource using her hands, but since some could leave a person disabled for life she couldn’t even imagine herself using it. It’s just a corpus of knowledge she amassed due to curiosity and of martial arts freaks she knew. It’s cool to know about it, she thought, but to actually employ it would be certainly not.

  The master of the new dojo overviewed the trainings. He’s just as old as her first master, and he welcomed her when she arrived. Contrary to her old master, though, that despite his eighty years or so still commanded the classes, her new one, Ban Nobuyuki, did not. To Naoko it felt somewhat underwhelming. Ban-Sensei mostly guided his instructors and watched closely. During the exercises he just observed, though once the trainings of positions began the master walked around the dojo, correcting every student’s mistakes and showing them how to perform correctly. Despite his age, he had surprising agility and firmness, his hands as stead as those of a statue. Also he seemed like he had no joints, because his articulations could do things Naoko only dreamed she could. The part Ban-Sensei instructed the students was by far the most interesting one, and she’s pleased that he actually told her the postures and movements she’s able to perform were quite good.

  At the beginning of the class the three black-belted students mentioned Naoko could stop at any time during the class if she felt she couldn’t go on, since resistance was something to be developed gradually. She didn’t think too much of it then, but by the end of the one hour and a half training the girl trembled and felt nauseated. Her master, keenly noticing it, instructed the pale and huffing girl to sit down for the last five minutes. At the end he reunited everyone for a closure involving the contemplation over a proverb. After that he stayed by the border of the training area briefly speaking in particular to each student as they went to the locker rooms. Specifically when talking to the suddenly silent woman, her master cordially asked:

  “Kurosawa-San, is there something you’d like to talk about?”

  Seeing that the heavy-heartened woman politely refused, he respected it, thought saying:

  “If at any moment you feel like you need to talk, I’ll gladly hear it.”

  While it occurred, Naoko was still sitting half-conscious on the same place she heard the teachings, with her legs folded and resting on the floor on both sides of her body.

  “Naoko-Chan, are you feeling well?” the concerned voice of a seventeen year-old student one grade higher than her that stayed by her side most of the class snapped her out of the void of tiredness she’s in. The girl, barely being able to move, muttered:

  “Yes. Somewhat well. I… train karate for a few years now, but… my master from Shimabara… focused more on positions and… techniques… instead of body conditioning. It came with time, they said. So I’m not… used to the body work… you guys do here, that’s all.”

  “Don’t overexert yourself,” her colleague advised her. That guy, Hideaki-Kun, was one of the many guys who received and helped her and made her feel at home right on the first day there. He’s very skilled, but his best fighting trait was his almost telepathic reflexes, as if he sensed what his opponent would do even before Naoko herself knew. Just like her previous master, he told her she telegraphed her blows too much, making her lose time and energy to actually initiating the attack and making it easy for opponents to prepare accordingly. Under the guidance of the instructors, Hideaki took upon himself train with Naoko at least a little each class to help her become a less obvious attacker.

  Almost falling over when bowing to leave the tatami, she went to the locker room with heavy steps. The only part she disliked about it all was that, since locker rooms were divided between genders, Naoko wound up in a large room alone with that woman who couldn’t stand even looking at her. Since the girl was in such bad shape after overdoing the training, the instructors asked the woman to take care of her while on the locker room, just in case Naoko’s nauseas worsened. Though the older female student complied, she did so in the most mechanical and distant possible way. Feeling bad for her, Naoko, who almost couldn’t lift her face and was chilling out still in her training vest, forced a smile and tried to start a conversation in a friendly way:

  “Hey, thanks… for watching over… me. Don’t worry… I’m feeling better now. I… just wasn’t used… to the body conditioning… you guys did here. Your… training is… very hard. I’m sorry to… cause you any trouble.”

  Not even looking at Naoko, the short woman, far from being pretty but arguably very skilled in class, sharply replied in a roundabout but blunt way:

  “The training we do here is not for anyone. You can’t just practice in an average dojo and come here expecting to impress
everyone on your first day.”

  That butthurt bitch had just insulted her previous master, calling his dojo “average”, and the girl herself, implying she’s “anyone”! Being on her period didn’t help Naoko control herself, either. So tired she was, the moment she heard that her exhausted heart pumped faster and her blood boiled, but weak as that, she felt her pressure plummeting and her sight fading into black.

  When she came back to herself, she’s lying down in a bench outside the locker, surrounded by the instructors and students. Ban-Sensei stood by her side, as did that woman, with a face as pale and worried as if she’d seen a ghost. Just as Naoko opened her eyes, Hideaki’s voice called out for her asking if she’s alright.

  For a moment all Naoko did was stare angrily at the seemingly afraid woman. If the girl told others about what she said there she could maybe repay her for what that cretin deserved, though Naoko would also be drawing the attention of others to the possibility that her old master didn’t train her well. Which he did. It wasn’t his fault if Naoko’s constitution just wasn’t that great.

  For a second her new master, perceiving her furious eyes, glanced over to the focus of Naoko’s attention, the woman with the scared face of a kid that knew she’d done something wrong. Breathing deeply, the old man asked others to give Naoko room to breathe and thanked everyone for their supports, dismissing them back to the lockers. Once alone with the saddened girl and after she’d recovered, the old man asked politely:

  “Yano-San, is there anything you’d want to talk about?”

  Thinking for some time and hesitating, Naoko though about telling him, but once again couldn’t force herself to do it. Her old master was excellent, he didn’t deserve to be shamed by a girl hardly fit for being a top notch martial artist. Naoko ultimately replied with a bow:

  “No, Ban-Sensei. Thank you for receiving and taking care of me, and sorry for… causing so much…” Her eyes, against her will, began to water. Resisting it, she continued firmly, despite her voice becoming unsteady and cracking, “Sorry for causing so much trouble on… my first… day here… and being unable… to keep up with the training. I’m… deeply sorry.”

  “Is that so?” the master asked, her answer having suddenly sparkled some sort of understanding in his eyes. In a calm way and with a precision apparently too good to be chalked to chance, the master told her:

  “Well, that’s no trouble at all. Despite your tiredness, you performed admirably for a first day, given the circumstances.”

  Forcing another sad smile for a second, Naoko replied:

  “How is it possible? I’ve just fainted for the second only time in my life.”

  Standing up, the old man explained her:

  “Yano-San is not the first student to be exchanged between me and master Himura along all those years. We trained together and have a strong relationship. Himura-San used to have a dojo in Nagoya, from where we came from, before moving. At that time, decades ago, I had already opened this dojo here, so whenever a student moved, we had connections to transfer them to a nearby master we knew and trusted. And every time we did, the student had some difficulties until he adapted. Himura-San focuses heavily on body posture and movement excellency, for he believes a fighter must use the least amount of force possible to fall an opponent, meaning his movement perfection, precision and power must be a priority. While I agree with this, I believe real-life situations need to be taken more into account, where multiple opponents may make a fight unreasonable and a quick escape needed. Thus, I lean more heavily on constitution developing before requiring a high level of movement precision. When we exchanged students, especially those of the first few belts, the ones I sent him invariably lacked finesse and polishing in their moves compared to the ones he trained, while the ones he sent me suffered to keep up with my body conditioning intense exercises. It’s due to our own differences, each master has his own understanding of the teachings, of the world and of life itself. It’s in no part a fault of the students, it’s just a matter of prioritizing for the masters. Eventually the students of both dojos learn most of the same techniques and reach roughly equal body capabilities. Don’t feel disheartened, Yano-San. We’ve seen it happen before. Just as your constitution needs training, your movement skills deserve nothing but praise. You performed well, don’t worry.”

  Though her eyes were full of tears, not of sadness anymore but of relief, Naoko swept them away as they came, not letting them roll and be seen. The way the master told her, spot-on, all of those things as if he’d been able to read her mind – or, more likely, because he’d “seen it happen before”, like he said, and noticed the guilt on that woman’s eyes – lifted a heavy weight from Naoko’s shoulders. Bowing deeply and thanking him, she excused herself to the locker room to clean her face and change clothes. Once she entered, the still afraid woman quickly left without a word, but by that time Naoko’s anger had already subsided. After recovering her blood pressure, changing and reapplying her makeup she left. By that time another class had already begun.

  When she left the building, Naoko found Hideaki and another seventeen year-old student waiting for her. Saying they’re worried she couldn’t go back home alone and explaining they hadn’t any more appointments for the day, they waited to see if she needed help or wanted company at least during part of her trip back. It warmed her up again.

  Since the trains at that time were extremely crowded and no one had anything better to do during the rest of the day (besides Naoko’s homework, but that could wait), the three stayed at a café for quite some time. The two boys were chivalrous and Naoko had many common likings with them, so they talked nonstop until they couldn’t postpone the trip. The way back was much better than her trip to the dojo, too. They only stayed with her for part of the way, complimenting her willpower and desire to train when she told them how distant from there was the dorm she lived in. After that she fell into a deep slumber, relying on her cellphone alarm and earplugs to wake her up, without bothering the people around, before her stop. The railway and subway systems were usually on time, so it’s possible to calculate more or less how much it took her to go to the dojo and estimate the time she’d arrive at the desired station.

  Drained, as she arrived at the dormitory building all she wanted was to take a shower and crash in her futon, so she barely nodded as the janitor passed by. Yamamoto-San, though, quickly left after welcoming her back, mentioning something about going to tell a person that wanted to see her about her arrival, though she didn’t understand it clearly. After just a few minutes of having arrived at her room, tossing away her kneaded school uniform and getting ready to shamble her way into the shower, a few knocks on the door were heard.

  Probably looking horribly tired but not caring, Naoko sighed. Dressing herself up again, she answered the door with shaky legs and a bad mood. As she opened it, her weary eyes took a few seconds to adapt to the nightly background. Only then she could make out the shape and physiognomy of a boy her age holding a beautifully packed present with lots of laces and cellophane papers making it gleam. He looked vaguely familiar, but Naoko was too exhausted to think about who could he really be. He was slim and a few inches shorter than her, and his voice soft and respectful. Bowing more than she expected a visitor would do, the boy, noticing the tiredness on her face, introduced himself:

  “Erm… Yano-San? I’m deeply sorry to bother you at such a late hour. I’m… I’ll be brief so as not to take too much of your time. I’m second year student Maeda Hiraku, from room 207. Last night I’ve been attacked by a gang from our school, but thanks to you they didn’t hurt me. I’m here to thank you for helping me. I know it’s nothing but a boring gift of no value, but please accept it as a token of my gratitude!”

  Bowing deeply again, Hiraku extended with both hands the luxurious gift he’d just downplayed. Surprised out of her sleepiness, the dumbfounded girl replied it wasn’t necessary, but as he’d gone through the trouble of preparing it and insisted vehemently, Naoko accepted
it. With a confused semblance the girl asked – politely but too sleepy to care about other formalities such as not butting in other people’s lives:

  “Maeda-San? May I ask you why those people were bothering you? I’m sorry if I’m intruding and if you don’t want to tell it’s okay, but it just left me curious of what would they want with you in the first place.”

  It didn’t leave her curious, actually. Not until then, when that curiosity suddenly sparked inside her.

  “No, it’s okay. It’s not me they want, but by older sister,” the boy respectfully revealed her. “She lives in room 118 and is one year older than me. She studies in the same class as that Fumio rascal, the boss of that five-boy gang. He acts like he owns the place and thinks he can do whatever he wants. He sometimes bothered her the last year, but recently he decided he really wanted my sister to be his girlfriend, and when she refused it, they tried to press her into accepting it by threatening me. Beating me up, maybe.”

  Feeling her blood boil again and her somnolence fading away, Naoko clenched her fists. That Fumio dude seemed irresponsible and arrogant, but until then the girl wanted to believe the five were at least nice people on the inside. Maybe because of her positive experiences with the bad boys from her hometown, a bunch of lazy and impolite but ultimately respectful and dependable guys. But no, Fumio and Daiki and those other three idiots were just that: idiots. Suddenly getting worried, Naoko questioned:

  “Hey, if that’s the case don’t you think they can try to attack you again?”

  Looking troubled, Hiraku slowly confirmed:

  “Yes. It’s a possibility, though… my sister and I are thinking about enrolling in another school, so they stop bothering us.”

  “What?” Naoko revolted, “They’re the ones who should be leaving, not you and your sister! Have you already spoken to your teachers or the director maybe?”

  Lowering his head, he explained it in a low voice:

  “No. They threatened to beat my sister up if she or I told anyone who worked in the school about it.”

  Horrorstruck, and still retaining part of her anger from that coward and egotistical, ugly and butthurt woman from her dojo, Naoko felt a burning desire to beat those gangster-wannabes to a pulp herself. Not that she’d be able to do that in reality, but she badly wished she could do that. Wrathful, the girl quickly replied:

  “No, I don’t want to lose decent people and be surrounded by jerks, I much rather prefer the other way around! Can’t you gather proofs, talk with your class president and let him or her take the necessary steps?”

  “The president of my class is also afraid of those bullies,” Hiraku told her. Naoko, infuriated, insisted, “What about Yamamoto-San?! He saw it! Can’t he talk with the director?”

  Bowing, the boy thanked her again, though in a burdened way:

  “I appreciate your worry for us, Yano-San, but we’ll be fine. At first Yamamoto-San said he’d do it, but if he does, those five can still beat up me or my sister, so we though it’s better to just move on. It’s still April, it’s possible to enroll in another institute. Sorry to have caused you unnecessary worries, and thanks again for the help. I won’t take any more of your time.”

  He departed, leaving Naoko trembling, this time in fury. She closed the door shaking, only then noticing she’s clasping her present as if she wanted to smash it. While the girl liked gifts, they also made her nervous, and not just in a good way. It wasn’t dread, exactly. She only had one irrational fear, and that was of stuffed animals. She knew it’s stupid, but she feared them for supposed pursuing her with their eyes, and while cute in theory, she only remotely liked them far away from her. The only redeeming quality of them was their squishiness, so she knew she could destroy them in case one suddenly came to life and attacked her in the middle of the night – yes, as absurd as it looked, Naoko’s mind actually though about such things even if rationally she knew there was nothing to fear. But presents, while not being fear-inducing, were always treated by her with suspicion, even ones given by well-known people, though she couldn’t tell why.

  Inside it was an expensive-looking assortment of fruits wrapped in a pretty box from a famous brand, which made her not only relax but also be content. Fruits, especially exotic ones, could cost piles of Yen, and made for fine gifts. Like Naoko imagined, the boy had seriously downplayed his fantastic present out of humbleness.

  She’s so tired that after packing her lunchbox and taking a refreshing, tension-alleviating shower she crashed on her futon into a deep, dreamless and rejuvenating sleep.

  Wednesday saw the blue skies turn gray. Finally remembering she’s not allowed to run on stairs and with her legs hurting too much to try it anyway, she resorted to using the elevator to get around the maniac-looking Katsuro. She had another incredible day at school, her friends helping her keep up with the lessons and Naoko raising the spirits of everyone. By the end of the last class that boy from the drama club, Takumi, invited her to watch a rehearsal, though mentioning that until that time they’re just practicing basic stage techniques since they hadn’t chosen a story to play yet. Naoko went, and to her surprise it actually felt a lively place. The theater had a big auditorium and the stage was equally large. Also the drama club occurred on Mondays and Wednesdays, so it didn’t conflict with her schedule.

  The stage techniques they’re training to reduce anxiety and develop the memory seemed really useful too, to the point where Naoko, even though still disliking theater plays, seriously considered joining in just for understanding it could help her as an idol. But then she found that timid girl from her class. Shiori, if she remembered correctly. The girl looked very sad. In fact, she did it every time apparently, but especially when their classmate Takumi asked Naoko, who’s bored to death watching breathing exercises and visualizations, if she didn’t want to participate in the practices.

  It felt strangely familiar: just as the instructors and students in her dojo gave the new, energetic and excited student lots of their attention, leaving that stupid woman resenting, Takumi and a few others received Naoko warmly and seemed to also give her special attention, to the point where they let her partake in their exercises even if she wasn’t a member of the club. And just so, the timid Shiori looked all the more melancholic.

  That was a reason why Naoko had mixed feelings towards other women. Her mere existence was enough to make some of them act as defensive as a rat cornered by a cat. Luckily there’re also amazing girls like her class president Miwa and others who opened up with time and became good friends, but all that nonsense had grown tiring years ago for Naoko. As such, even though the drama club looked a good opportunity to hone her stage skills, Naoko decided to give it a pass just so she didn’t have to be around that sourpuss Shiori girl. Even the way Takumi looked down and told her if she ever changed her mind, to come back made Shiori gloomy. That wasn’t the type of person Naoko wanted to have around her.

  A big aspect about male-female interactions was that usually they started pretty shyly. Unless they happened in a place or situation where both parties couldn’t deny they’re looking for a relationship, or in the case of a few aggressive individuals, it usually began slowly. Showing interest through excess of attention was a common habit, and men usually tried to make themselves useful. The problem was that it wasn’t exclusively for showing interest in others. Naoko wasn’t stupid, she knew very well that those two boys from the dojo that waited for her could possibly have an interest in her, but the trio of instructors, that demonstrated equal care for her, were all married and most likely acted that way just because it was they functions there (or at least Naoko expected). Drama club Takumi was harder to say. He showed some signs of interest, but at the same time it could also be just because he’s the one who invited her there and just wanted to make her guest feel comfortable. Naoko received so many of those mixed signals from boys her age or a few years older that one thing she learned in her life was that if she tried to analyze every single one, she’d be crazy. As s
uch, most of the time she simply didn’t care and assumed all mixed signals to be non-interest-just-business in nature. If boys wanted to get an interest message through her mental customhouse, they’d have to do so explicitly, because her poor neurons wouldn’t work double turns trying to decipher what they wanted to say just because they’re too bashful to do so in complete sentences.

  Only problem with this was that, though certainly not naïve, Naoko misinterpreted some clear interest signals sometimes. She didn’t think too hard about these things like some other girls did, so she could be wrong. Takumi, though acting like almost every other boy from her class, could be interested in her, and Shiori could like him and notice signals Naoko didn’t, or didn’t give importance. Subtlety was a thing she hated, it felt like a cheap tool only a coward would employ. And though Takumi was kind of handsome and very attentive to her, so were many others. He’s a nice friend to have, but if Shiori indeed liked Takumi, felt overshadowed by the transfer student as it appeared and could read Naoko’s mind she’d discover the girl had no interest in that boy – or, currently, any other for that matter – and wouldn’t “steal” him from her even if he declared himself. But no, it’s apparently too much to ask that other people could read convenient tidbits from her mind! So yes, that drama queen could have her bloody drama club to herself for all Naoko cared.

  About the rest of the boys of her class, only a few didn’t show that kind of attention towards her. Her most handsome classmate, and one of the most handsome students in all of the school, was not only indifferent with her, but with everybody. Some girls likely thought him to be a cool, silent type and were attracted to it, but Naoko assumed he’s just a dumb, obnoxious dude. He’s the only one that annoyed her, the other three boys who didn’t gave her special attention seemed just timid guys. One was dark skinned and always walked alone, and the other two seemed to live in their own worlds, talking about their hobbies and nothing more. Mainly games. For as much as Naoko loved the topic, seeing people who had no other conversation subjects looked strange, kind of childish. Still, she’s willing to bet those three guys could be nice friends if only they opened up.

  Never before having ventured around the city just for fun, Naoko did so after returning to her room, doing all her homework and changing clothes. Though she wanted to get used to wearing the platform boots in public, it’s hard to muster up the courage to put it on. Not mentioning the other showy clothes Aratani has bought. Albeit feeling glamorous, Naoko left her room looking both sides and hoping no one saw her. On the streets the girl felt shivers and tried to hid herself for half an hour before getting more or less accustomed to the outfit. But then again, it’s better that she started losing her anxiety for flashy getups now rather than during gigs.

  Eventually the anxiety dwindled, leaving just the pleasure of feeling free to actually look attractive without complainers bringing her down. She had twenty-three wards in Tokyo to explore, the burning desire to do so and some free time in her hands. Sure, by the end of the day she had seen approximately… nothing, at least when compared to how much there was to see. If she did that every day, and supposing the colossal metropolis never changed, she’d probably take about twelve or thirteen millennia to see most of it, but it’s a nice start! The more she roamed the bustling city, the more impressed she became. It gave her many ideas she wanted to do, like hitting a big arcade, visiting a huge exposition (preferably one centered around games, international stuff or food), inviting her friends for a karaoke, perhaps even calling them to an amusement park someday, or over to her place once she’d organized it.

  While Naoko explored a big gallery a woman called her, introducing herself as the manager of a maid café Naoko had visited a week or so before looking for work. She offered her the job, making the girl insanely happy for such a small reason. She wondered if she could accept the position to work during the week, but Aratani would probably not like it. Even refusing, Naoko felt great knowing she could actually have other jobs in case that idol business came under or turned out to be a now very unlikely hoax. It made her day.

  Just as she left the gallery, raindrops began to fall around her. Naoko, with no umbrellas, retreated to buy one and started to make her way back to the train station. As rain began to pour, soaking the dry city and sweeping away the dust accumulated in more than three weeks of almost uninterrupted clean skies, innumerous black umbrellas popped out over the crowds like dark mushrooms. Her own, a purple and white one, was small and the torrential downpour that issued quickly got her legs drenched, but with only a mini short there wasn’t much to get wet. In fact, for once it felt really nice to walk on platform boots and being able to tread through puddles and small currents that fazed smartly dressed people without a care in the world.

  Naoko loved rain just as much as she loved bright, sunny days. Back in her childhood she couldn’t help but jump in every puddle she found, until a day where she fell flat on one. Water, in general, was something she loved, from pools to rivers, from a shower to the ocean, the rain, hot springs and more. While it’s horrible to walk with waterlogged shoes, that wasn’t the case with those almost impermeable and well-sealed footwear, so no complains there. And the city’s air felt much better. Too bad the rain became so heavy that a gray curtain prevented the girl from seeing more than two squares away, and the wind threatened to split her poor umbrella in two, because the waterfalls that fell from the building façades made for quite the scene.

  Hiding under marquises when the winds became too strong to proceed and appreciating the view while at it, Naoko slowly made her way back home. There many students roamed around, bringing soaked clothes to the communal laundry. So did her as soon as she dried herself, reapplied the makeup and changed clothes to another recently bought flashy outfit she’s supposed to be getting used to wearing.

  The washhouse was decent-sized, but even them seemed crowded. Bringing her attire with school uniform along the clothes she had to wash anyway, the girl stood by the entrance, watching others and learning how to operate the machines. While she’s at it, Naoko noticed a known face: the bullied boy Maeda. He’s accompanying a rather pretty girl, with similar facial features. Though she’s slightly smaller than him, it’s probably his older sister he mentioned, unless he had a younger one, a cousin or something. They’re too similar not to be related by blood, she thought.

  It seemed most of the people living in the dorms were there, and just as the girl stood waiting for her turn, she suddenly got an uncomfortable sensation of being watched. Not just being looked at, like people usually did, but actively stared deeply. It didn’t take too long to notice an unnatural grin in a corner, like a psychopath trying to look friendly. Weirdo Katsuro looked up in the air like he didn’t notice her, though his eyes periodically glanced her for a fraction of a second at a time in rapid movements. It’s the first time Naoko felt more than slightly worried about that boy. Since he couldn’t bring himself to come in her direction, the girl also pretended not to see him, but things got awkward. Especially because he’s many numbers in front of her in the line, and once he’d cleaned his clothes and turned to go away, he suddenly pretended to having seen her. As if he’d prepared carefully for that moment, he walked in her direction with his basket of clothes and his forehead beginning to glint as if getting wet by sweat.

  Instinctively crossing her arms and legs and leaning against the closest wall, the girl also began to sweat. At the same time, Naoko got very aware of her surroundings. There’re lots of people there so he’d probably not try anything stupid. But he’s also apparently very frail and short, Naoko analyzed she’s probably much stronger than him and could defend herself as long as he wasn’t armed. But what if he had a knife or something with him?

  Just as her mind began getting paranoid over the approaching boy with the strange smiling behavior, the meek guy slowly walked as if he’s going past her and, in a cracked voice almost too low to be heard, greeted while bowing:

  “Good… night.” The girl,
noticing there was a boy and a girl by her sides she could push over the freak if she needed, breathed deeply and, trying to appear surprised (in a positive, non-terrified way) as if she’d just seen him, replied nervously, “Oh, hey, hi.”

  Initially it looked like he’d keep walking away, but he abruptly stopped and turned full-front in her direction, while the girl, clinging discreetly to the wall, instinctively turned slightly sideways facing the nearest escape route. Katsuro stood there for what appeared to be an eternity, grinning mouth agape idling while he thought of something to say. From the top of her platforms Naoko was around twenty-five centimeters taller than him, but the short guy facing her from below with almost non-blinking eyes still scared her badly. Even though he looked in her general direction all the time, he’s unable to maintain eye contact for more than a second at a time. Eventually he inquired, like always in such a low voice that Naoko would have to lean in to listen perfectly what he’s trying to say, though of course she’d do no such thing:

  “Crowded here tonight… isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Naoko replied, thinking furiously if it meant something like he’d invite her to a less crowded space or something. “I love crowded places.”

  Nodding, but appearing not to have heard anything she said, the seemingly nervous boy quickly launched another statement with a compliment undertone, though much more truncated and full of hesitant pauses, as if he’d memorized what he’d say but was afraid of doing so:

  “Nice. Hey… Yano-San… looks… The way… Yano-San… looks… kind of… reminds me… of a… a… character… in a… manga… I know.”

  Not knowing if that was a compliment and internally asking herself “Yeah, so what, why don’t you go read it and maybe choke on the manga and die?” the clearly uninterested girl replied a long, dubious “Riiiiiight.”

  The way the boy seemed so nervous, slowly leaning in as if getting smaller, and his forehead getting brilliant with sweat while his trembling smile never ceased, made Naoko gradually more and more nervous too. It’s hard to tell what passed by his mind, but the way he looked like a maniac made the girl get even more worried. There’s no way she’d feel safe around a guy that looked half psychotic, half scared as a chicken. By that time a sudden and desperate recollection from her body language teacher called the girl’s awareness to her posture. Completely closed and cornered, her arms folded in front of her chest as if trying to hide it, legs crossed, her head close to the wall meaning her sight-line was far above the boy’s head and, thus, her fearful eyes turned down to face him, hurting her orbits and its musculature.

  Remembering the only lesson she had, about assuming more confident postures and about creating awe on the audience – and in extreme cases, fear, if used wrongly onstage, her teacher warned her – Naoko took a brave leap and immediately corrected herself. She couldn’t, at first, bring herself to open fully, but she uncrossed her legs and spread them somewhat. Though her arms continued folded, the girl stood as tall as she could and, making use of her height, with difficulty leaned slightly over the boy, while staring him down from the bottom of her eyes, that turned serious and razor-sharp. Doing so with an audience transmitted a message of superiority, not unlike the one Violet Lily used to employ. Used close to the edges of the stage, it could easily intimidate the nearby watchers, so it was a dangerous move to pull under the limelight. But at that time Naoko was glad for what she thought initially to be the most boring of all lessons, because as soon as she assumed that posture two things happened: her racing heart calmed down somewhat while her sense of security and confidence increased, and the meek boy took a step back, looking even more terrorized than before. Even his plastered smile vacillated, and in turn he forced it to be even bigger.

  At first it gave the scared Naoko the impression the posture had backfired, but as she came to understand when the boy continued talking in an even more frightened and low way, he’s actually extremely afraid. His smile had grown bigger just as a defense, though the girl couldn’t tell if to try and intimidate her back or what. His voice, though, became even more soft, high-pitched and shaky, and he cowed even more, as if trying to make himself as small and harmless as possible. It filled Naoko with a powerful conviction that the boy wouldn’t be able to attack her then. He’s barely able to breathe, actually, which for the first time felt a little funny. To see that freak who terrified her act like that too was calming and nice.

  Even though almost looking like he’d have a heart attack, Katsuro kept going on in his whispered and vacillating speech, nervously looking around, his fingers shaking and white from the lack of blood flow making it evident he’s holding his basket of clothes as a shipwrecked would cling to a life buoy:

  “People in… school are… talking… about… I mean… They… were talking… today… about a… manga… and games-loving… id… idol… from 2-5. Is… is that… Y-Yano-San?”

  Though nobody directly glanced over, a few girls and boys started to notice their awkward conversation. The girl by Naoko’s side discreetly retracted a little. Katsuro’s previous statement about Naoko looking like a manga girl began to make sense to her, since the boy appeared to know she liked those things. Naoko also wasn’t aware of “people in school” talking about her other than her class, though she could be wrong since she had barely walked around during the breaks to hear the last corridor gossips. Still, it seemed fishy. Constantly reminding herself she was stronger than him (almost anyone was stronger than him, really) kept her fear at bay, and the girl barely mumbled an “hm” in acknowledgement, meaning she’d heard what he said. The grinning boy, seeming lost with her lack of enthusiasm, asked:

  “Do… Y-Yano-San… like… it? I-I mean… what… kind of story… do… do you…?

  Unable to finish the sentence he silenced, letting the context speak for itself. Too worried to think about anything, the girl replied a quick “Any story’s fine” in a loud voice, to call attention from the others to her. Just in case someone was nice enough to come to her rescue, even though it seemed the hardly-breathing boy was the one in need of assistance.

  “Any?” the boy, for the first time looking a little less desperate and with his eyes finally beaming, replied. Naoko was almost saying what suddenly came to her mind, “Not the ones you probably like the most, thought, you perv-stalker-weirdo!” when the boy detailed, “Like, uh… action stories… with giant mecha… or, uh, superpowers… things like that? Do Yano-San like… these kinds of stories too?”

  Though his smile kept being enormous, for the first time it felt a little genuine, and so did his gleaming eyes, almost as bright as the sweat drops that began forming on his forehead. Still creepy as hell as much as crept out himself, but for once he seemed to have heard her.

  “Y-yeah…?” Naoko hesitantly replied. That was one of her favorite kinds of stories, her hesitation was due to the person asking the question rather than the question itself. Just as he started to inquire if she’d already read something he’d no time to say what, a bulky figure approached Naoko and stood, arms folded, by her side. The already petrified boy became even more so when he saw the hardly-happy, strong face of that muscular guy that lived the door besides him, Daiki. The bully had a bandage over a small part of his chest that could be seen under his shirt, and one of his eyes was half-closed and still a bit swollen. He wore long sleeves and pants, meaning there was no way of telling if he had other injures, but it appeared so.

  Being unable to even whisper “excuse me”, the terrified boy moved his tense grinning lips somehow and left, still forcefully smiling but crestfallen. Only then being able to breathe again freely, Naoko relaxed her posture and sighed deeply. Daiki, who was already naturally a few centimeters lower than her and now seemed even shorter, asked her with a firm voice:

  “Y’alright, Naoko-Chan? Freak tried something on ya?”

  Gradually recovering, she took a moment to be able to speak, so shaky she was.

  “Yes, I’m fine. Thanks,” For the first few seconds sh
e’s glad Daiki had shown up, but as her composure returned so did her anger after what that bullied boy, Maeda Hiraku, had told her. Facing the always frowning eyes of Daiki with an equally unwelcoming, grave face, Naoko retorted, noticing his wounds, “Seems like that talk with your boss was a tough one.”

  “I don’t have a boss,” Daiki replied gravely, to which Naoko retorted acidly, “I was under the impression you did when that stup…” Controlling herself and trying to dose her adrenaline with some logic, Naoko rephrased herself, “…when that boy threatened you that way, and all you did was telling him your gang should go away because the warning I gave you made sense. And because you did nothing but comply when he acted like he’d mop the floor with you.”

  “Watch it!” Daiki warned her in a forceful way, making Naoko feel suddenly intimidated. Noticing it, but not really apologizing, the boy simply complied in a slightly more respectful way, “Yeah, the gang has a leader.”

  At that moment, when she finally accepted she’s afraid of that imbecile, a strange thought crossed over Naoko’s mind: why was she so scared of a puny boy she could snap in two with a sniff and that seemed as afraid of her as she was of him, but didn’t feel too much intimidated by a gang member until now? Whatever’s the case, a reflection about it would have to wait. Noticing the boy the gang had bullied and his sister watching them discreetly from afar, Naoko, not caring if she looked frightened, replied while taking a step away from the guy:

  “If the gang has a leader and you’re part of it but’s not the leader, than you have a leader. A leader that beat you up and threatened to do the same with that boy you guys attacked and his own sister. Right? I heard why you guys picked up on him. It’s true, isn’t it?”

  “Who told ya that!?” Daiki demanded to know, making Naoko even angrier. Even more, she became afraid she’d denounced the boy that presented her, so she quickly amended it:

  “You jerk! That’s none of your business! Many people know it, they just don’t talk about it out of respect for the victims! You and all of your stupid gang! You’ve no qualms with beating up women! Stay away from me!”

  The second Naoko took a step away from that boy, his hand held her wrist. In a mix of terror and surprise, the girl turned to face him shouting “Let me go!” The first thing that came to her mind was that if he didn’t comply immediately she’d, out of fear and fury, dig her nails deep down in his eyes or something. The boy, noticing a commotion form around them, with people starting to record videos discreetly through their cellphones and others getting away or coming closer, released her and, in a low voice, asked, trying to be a little more tranquilizing:

  “Can… I talk to ya outside?”

  “Why?” Naoko, taking another step back, nervously defied in a loud voice, “So you can beat me away from everyone’s eyes? Hell no! Get lost!”

  Getting angry, Daiki initially exploded:

  “Stop yelling, I’m not gonna beat ya but ya getting on my nerves!” Seeing a few boys from the third year closing in, Daiki closed his eyes and tried to calm down. In a low voice, almost a whisper, ashamed he probably was of others hearing him, he tried to explain himself “Listen, Naoko-Chan. I promised to protect ya. I’d never hurt ya. I came to ya right now, didn’t ya? I didn’t know y’here, but as soon as I heard ya, I came, ‘k?”

  Six athletic boys stood behind Daiki, giving Naoko a small respite. The bully, though close eyed, could probably have noticed the movements around him, with many girls getting away and boys coming closer. Breathing deeply, Naoko pointed out the commotion he was causing – even though knowing that it was her, in fact, that was being loud and using the crowd to protect herself, though the boy was the one responsible for forcing her to do so:

  “You’re bothering everyone here. You’re part of a gang that intimidates people and threatens to attack girls. And you want me to be calm? You want me to believe you’ll protect me? Ha! If your boss decides your gang will beat me, you’ll most likely don’t even bat an eye before following his orders!”

  Opening his eyes abruptly as she’d started to speak, Daiki’s face grew even more serious, to the point where it began looking mortified. The boy protested vehemently:

  “Naoko-Chan doesn’t know me! No, I wouldn’t do it! I swore I’d protect ya!”

  “Yeah, right!” Naoko replied, “You get a beating from your stupid boss, come back here telling me you’re still part of that gang and you want me to believe you’d not follow his orders blindly, whatever they may be?! Tell me: if he ordered you to beat me, what would you do?”

  Daiki grinded his teeth, facing Naoko with eagle eyes. Her heart ran as fast as when she practiced karate in the dojo, and even though all her teachings crossed her head by that hour, she knew she’d have no chance of beating him up. He’s shorter, but much stronger, and she’s still a novice karateka. Maybe she could deflect a punch, but not much else, even though he was injured. At least she wouldn’t be able to protect herself without resorting to extreme and dirty measures that had nothing to do with karate, like hitting his eyes or between his legs. She’d have to count with the help of the many guys close-by to stop him.

  After many tense seconds, Daiki, looking her fearful and angry face and also the surrounding people paying close attention, replied in a whisper:

  “I wouldn’t follow his orders if they’re to beat ya. I’d defend ya.”

  It felt genuine enough for Naoko, though as afraid as she was, she didn’t trust her instincts on it. They could very well be trying to lead her into a false sense of protection. She insisted:

  “So you’d disobey your leader’s orders, you say? Yeah, it’s easy to say it, but I doubt you’d really do it if it came to it!”

  “I would!” Daiki insisted nervously, “Whatcha want me to do to prove ya I would?! Why can’t ya believe me?! I’m a man of word!”

  Just as nervous, Naoko countered his flawed logic:

  “Daiki-Kun, you even continued following that Fumio guy’s orders after getting sent by him to a hospital! Give me one good reason to believe you’d…”

  “I don’t give a damn ‘bout myself!” Daiki interrupted her, saying it all as quickly as he could, “But if I say I’d protect ya, I’d do it, even if I had to go against my leader! It’s not like I’ve ever gained anything working for him anyway… and I said I liked ya, right? Don’t ya make me repeat me in front of everyone!”

  That was some serious sentence, Naoko felt. While the girls in the room seemed only impressed by the second to last sentence, a kind of declaration, the boys seemed much more respectful during the entire statement. They probably understood much better how hard it should’ve been to say that in front of so many people and what it truly meant for a gang member to say such things. Naoko understood the meaning of it due to all of the years having so many male friends, but even she admitted she couldn’t fully comprehend what the solemn boys in the washhouse appeared to feel. On the other hand, it’s better this way, because she didn’t care for the meaning of it, rather focusing on how it affected her life and that of the people around her. She could even make seemingly cruel demands and blackmails, though they’d ultimately lead to positive results in her opinion. Therefore, after reclaiming her breath, she assumed a confident body posture to help alleviate her fears and said in a less aggressive voice and a slow pace, buying herself time to think about what she’s going to say:

  “Okay. Listen: I thank you for… huh… saying that and all. It’s not like I don’t really want to believe you. I do. But let’s get real here: you say that to me, but you’re still part of a gang with a boss that threatened a girl he said he liked. And you say you’re a man of word, but you probably gave your word to your leader that you’d follow his orders to get accepted in the gang, right? I know how it works, you’re not the first gang boy I knew. So I hate to force you such a difficult choice, but I also hate indecisive people. You’ll have to choose which side are you on. Protecting me like you said or being with your gang after seeing how egotistical y
our leader is, risking you to be expelled from your dorm, and what a loser he is threatening a boy to press his sister into accepting him, beating you up and causing problems with the police.”

  Getting abruptly infuriated, Daiki exclaimed loudly:

  “How dare ya blackmail me like that?!”

  “No, how dare you do the things you did!” Naoko retorted, suddenly yelling full-blown, not even stopping to think about what she’s saying because she’d surely not have the courage to say all those truths otherwise, “What kind of future do you think you’ll have following a loser like him, anyway?! Don’t you dare raise your voice on me, so far you’re nothing! Hear it?! Nothing!”

  Daiki gave a furious step in Naoko’s direction, and even though it wasn’t clear what he intended to do, the boys behind him reacted quickly and held him. The girl, though knowing it’d be best to stop right there, unleashed all of her anger and loath on him:

  “You’re just a low-level dog of a stupid school gang of five idiots run by a coward! A man who can’t even get a girl through decent means! You said you’d protect me from that strange boy, but at least he mustered up the courage to come talk to me and respected me instead of forcing himself on me or acting like he’d punch my face every time he heard something he disliked! Truth hurts, doesn’t it? So stop with this bravado before I call the police on you for grabbing me forcefully and for threatening me, and listen!”

  The restrained guy stopped trying to force his way out, though his eyes were furious. The boys that restrained him remained grabbing his hands firmly, because Naoko seemed to have gone berserk and blindly released her wrath on the gang member:

  “You told me I’m blackmailing you, but that’s exactly what that weakling of your boss’s doing with girls, and you’re not enough of a man to call him on that like you did to me! You follow orders from a vermin like that, what’s me to expect from you than being even more of a weakling? Eh? That you protect me?! I need no protection from weak guys! You… think people fear you for being so tough, but you’re just physically so! You have no self-respect, to the point where other guys can beat you up and you’ll still follow them! What kind of future you expect to have being like this?!... What kind of girl do you think would like a guy like you?! You think I like to hear from you that you like me?! You insult me, that’s what you do!”

  Daiki tried to break free to rush her, but was restrained.

  “You insult my intelligence!” Naoko proceeded, shouting on his face, “I’m nowhere near desperate enough to want a guy like you remotely close to me! And while you remain a weakling that another weakling can mop the floor with, while you… while you keep disgusting me, coming here like I should be happy to see a coward that gangs up on a decent boy for scabrous reasons, while you don’t grow up, grow a backbone and start doing what’s right instead of what a chicken orders you to do, I want you in jail! In hell! Far away from me! The instant the people on that school understand they have nothing to fear from a bunch of vermin if they team up, you five will be squished in a second! And you know the best part?... You’ll have no one to blame but yourself for not being man enough to do what’s right and insisting on standing by the side of those losers doing what they want you to do!”

  Blinded by rage, Daiki moved his head quickly, as if to head-butt her, but stopped on the last second, barely touching her forehead. Shocked, the girl stepped back, noticing his wrathful eyes. Getting even more choleric for him almost hurting her, but also getting more intimidated, she concluded:

  “So alright, you don’t want to choose between keeping your promise of protecting me or continue following orders from an insect? Fine!... Choose for yourself, then: do you want to keep acting like a nervous kid with no ability to withstand frustration and who follows orders from other kids, or do you want to become a man? And for the sake of heaven and Earth, look at my eyes at tell me if I said any lie!”

  All eyes in the room where wide-open and the only noises that could be heard when Naoko ceased her verbiage spree, huffing, was the rain outside and the low hums of the machines cleaning the clothes. The girl was so fed up that she unleashed all her rage, including things not even related to Daiki like that stupid woman from the dojo, that drama queen Shiori from her class, her stressful encounter with Katsuro and the fact that Naoko’s period had started the day before, adding up to that cretin Daiki getting all worked up after helping a gang force a girl to accept that filthy Fumio as her boyfriend by threatening her own brother. She couldn’t care less if Daiki felt bad, if he cried all night long or if he cut his arms so deeply that he amputated both hands. She’s so blinded by wrath that she swore if Daiki said anything stupid she’d rip him to shreds with her bare hands.

  The fact that she’d assumed the postures her body language teacher told her helped too, as did her understanding that Daiki was just as much, if not more, meek on the inside than that grinning boy Katsuro. Probably more, because Katsuro was physically weak too, while Daiki, being burly, still acted like a little, nervous kid. Naoko had developed her train of thought as she spoke, never before having thought about the things she did while she talked. It’s as if deep down she already knew things that she didn’t know she knew, but that flowed out of her mouth as she let herself talk what she wanted. It’s disturbingly strange, but in a sense, to reach that Honne, that True Voice state, was delightful. In a dark, twisted way.

  Daiki’s eyes couldn’t retain his bad attitude throughout the whole speech. After Naoko got personal, asking him what kind of girl would like a weakling who followed another weakling’s orders, even his tough frontage crumbled. The frustrated, ashamed and surprised boy, still restrained, heard in silence all Naoko said, sometimes getting extremely angry, but more often than not just being staring her in shock. After the almost possessed, choleric girl concluded her verbal thrashing and leaned to glare deep into his eyes from the same level, all she said began to sink in for both sides. For Naoko she knew she’d committed a grave mistake. She slowly began to think in all the things that could happen to her for having meddled in what didn’t concern her. Daiki knew where she lived and he was as dangerous as he was childish, for he didn’t seem to be able to take critics well. If she’d only let that gang beat up the boy and the janitor without interfering, she’d have no problems by now!

  At times like that, in her hometown her childhood friend Masahiro would’ve interfered and impeded her to be irrational and getting herself into trouble. At times like that she wished he’s by her side. Not having him around anymore, the girl would have to policy herself, but maybe what she’d done was beyond repair. Hence the girl began thinking for alternatives for resolving the situation as her anger decreased and her fears increased while staring dead-on inside the boy’s eyes. Maybe calling the police and trying everything she could to get him under cop vigilance, or getting him expelled from the dorm and the school somehow…

  She suddenly snapped out of it by a rapid movement. The scared girl leaned back up a little in a reflexive action before noticing it’s just Daiki’s eyes. He closed them. After a long and torturing silence the boy opened them again, looking somewhat sad for the first time, even if he continued trying to keep his bad boy attitude that didn’t deceive Naoko anymore.

  “I hate ya. How… could ya do this to me? After I came here to protect ya… Though maybe… y’re not lying. Like… maybe… y’re, like… right,” with his forehead and his jaw trembling as if his face muscles fought over showing or not any emotion, Daiki finally spoke. After thinking a lot over it and glancing over to the silent crowd that watched the scene, he continued, “I’m worthless. Always been, always will be. Sorry… for not being worthy. I’m… not worthy, that’s why I live for an unworthy gang.”

  Feeling her heart race at the prospect the boy could change, not because she still cared for that brute who apparently tried to hit her but just to settle matters, Naoko disagreed:

  “No! You don’t need to be like this forever.”

  Shaking his head negative
ly, the boy replied in a pessimistic way:

  “I dunno how to be any other way. Dunno what’s to be worthy.”

  “Well, then learn it!” Naoko insisted. Giving a thanking nod for the boys that held Daiki to release him, the girl excitedly spoke, “What’s to be worthy? It depends, I think.” Reflecting for a moment, she questioned, “What things are worth fighting for, in your opinion?”

  Closely observed by the boys who kept him held until instants before, Daiki looked lost.

  “Dunno… maybe… maybe…”

  Perceiving the boy was already too ashamed to say anything, Naoko eased his burden while speaking slowly, again to give her time to think ahead about what to say:

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to say it. Just think about what’s really worth fighting for. If you fight for those things, you’ll be worthy! You’re not worthless for life, you’re just currently being so. You’ll have to choose if you want to keep fighting for that Fumio dude, picking on innocent people and getting yourself hated by all, or fight for things you consider worthy. Just know that like you said I could call you if I needed, Daiki-Kun can call me too to help you if you reconsider. I believe you can be a great person if you try.”

  Even though there were machines that have already finished cleaning and drying, no person there dared move a muscle. Gazing at his own feet, Daiki, in a low voice, very ashamed as he was, mentioned after a brief, reflective pause:

  “I… want it. I do. But… me and Fumio… and a few of the boys… we’re in the same class. It’ll be awkward to be there alone… Can’t count on anyone. They’ll attack me every day.”

  Trying to find a way to bypass that “nitpicky detail”, Naoko replied, pressuring:

  “You know what will be awkward? When the police calls your parents telling them his son attacked a girl or something and is under custody, and your school bans your for life and kind of destroys a good chance you have at a better future. Not to say you’ll have to find another place to live. I, particularly, fled from my parent’s house and the idea alone of returning there would make me reconsider any choice I could make, but if that’s not a problem for you or you have somewhere else to stay, scratch that and just stay with the tarnished criminal and educational files reason. And it’s not like you can count on someone right now, anyway. Unless you think you can count on the guy that almost wasted you!”

  She knew it wasn’t a very good response because it didn’t solve the problem presented, just put it under a new perspective, but Daiki, though initially looking sour when Naoko mentioned his parents in such a way that the girl could see it clearly, became much more sensible to the plead by the end.

  One of the athletic boys, a tall one who’s held Daiki tight during his raging impetus, raised his hand slightly behind the bully, as if asking politely for an opportunity to talk:

  “Hm… sorry to interrupt, but if the problem is to have no group to be part of, I think you should consider joining a club. I’m members of the basketball club. Tanaka here too. And I know a guy from your class who’s also there with us. You’re from 3-3, right? They’d not attack a player, it’d have repercussions from the whole team”

  Another, shorter boy who also helped detain him, seizing the opportunity, added:

  “If for any reason you don’t feel basketball’s your game you can also try the soccer team. I’m part of it, can show you ‘round if you want.”

  Bringing his hands shamefully over his eyes, Daiki stood still, trying to calm his voice enough to say something for all those people who stood by his side and lent him a hand after all the stupid things he did. Suddenly, from somewhere in the room a short boy shouted excitedly:

  “I’m in the Poetry club! I can also introduce you to everyone there!”

  Everyone turned to acidly face the boy who broke the touching brotherhood-like mood. Eventually recovering from the traumatic experience of imagining himself with glasses reading haikus, small poem-like sentences, before Fumio and his goons broke in the poetry club room to punch not only his face, but that of every other intellectual student there, Daiki turned to face Naoko as well as the boys who’ve helped him and thought for a long time.

  Even though the washhouse was full and space was precious, the bully, barely able to hold his emotions at bay, abruptly moved. Not really caring about the dozens of other boys and girls there, or merely biting the bullet and doing what he thought was needed, he crouched down on the white-tiled floor as if to sit over his folded legs, but leaned forward. Almost touching the ground with his forehead and supporting that most extreme begging position with both hands clasped, Daiki took most of the free space and even then he almost touched the feet of the nearby people. For the first time speaking in a proper way, in a loud voice, mostly for those with whom he spoke directly but presumably also a little for everyone else in the room, he apologized:

  “I’m profoundly ashamed for all the troubles I’ve made all of you go through! I’m aware I don’t deserve the forgiveness and the chance you all present me! Even so, I beg that you all let me join you so I can work with every fiber of my body to help you all however I can and try to correct all shameful wrongs I did! Please let me set this straight!”

  The silence that flooded the laundry was so overwhelming only the rain outside dared to break it. People barely breathed as if not to be the first one to dispel it. Feeling strangely happy but also very embarrassed, Naoko glanced to the boys that restricted Daiki looking for someone courageous enough to say anything and make that repented gang member get up, though since she’s the one talking to him to begin with, all eyes circumspectly fell on her.

  “Ahem…” the girl, after what seemed like an eternity, hesitantly took upon herself the task, “I’m glad you made this choice, Daiki-Kun. Count on me on whatever you need.” Whisperingly, the girl, getting tense, added in a modulating voice, partially spoken and partially sung, holding a few syllables longer for comical relief and emphasis, “Also, stand up alrea~dy, I’m getting uncomfortable he~re. You’re not a yakuza goon so stop acting like o~ne!”

  Cleaning clothes in a washing machine had never been so exhausting and time consuming but also rewarding. After apologizing to Hiraku, the boy he and his ex-gang had threatened, and also to his sister, Daiki seemed more relaxed. Still beet-red ashamed for what more than a quarter of the dormitories students had seen, but fine once he’d made up his mind and found solace and a sense of belonging with the boys who’ve restrained him, especially the soccer club one – Daiki felt he wasn’t tall enough to play basketball. Since videos of the incident spread like wildfire across the dorm building and the school students, quickly lots of people knew about his change of heart so his word and mettle were tested right off the bat. On the bright side, the ashamed boy found out people actually supported his shift towards a more dutiful attitude. Boys respected his braveness to admit his wrongs and changing.

  Most girls were quite reticent about the way Daiki acted on the videos, as if he’d harm the student who faced him. For Naoko things got excellent, however. Whatever little sympathy she had for the boy was permanently lost and all that’s left was some small compassion for a human being trying to change, but Daiki got extremely disappointed and irritated with himself after watching the recording and seeing how he acted in clear contradiction to his vow to protect her. From that point on the senior student did everything he could to repay her. On a final note, it paid off to wear those flashy clothes Aratani gave her: Naoko looked absolutely stunning on the videos. Unfortunately she also looked scarier than hell, screaming those things as if next thing she’d do was to throw the gang member inside a washing machine and watch him spin for hours.

  The rainy day started well: the janitor was absent since the night before, when his old car lost control and crashed in the vehicle of an old geezer during the downpour. No one got seriously injured, but it meant he’d to take care of many things, and as such Naoko could run down the stairs without worrying. By morning the whole school had already watched t
he videos and it spread through the students’ network issuing a flood of comments, many of which parodying the absurd scene and wishing the ex-gang member good luck on his return to grace endeavor. Daiki joined the soccer club the same day, immediately gaining two friends among his classmates who also took part in it and more than twenty others around the school, many of which belonging to the third year. This, along with the boys from the male basketball club and the archery club, gave him quite a support net to fall on to, making his ex-gang members shy on the idea of taking him by assault in the campus or the dorm building. They still promised a payback, not only on him but also on Naoko for insulting them to a point where boys and girls alike laughed on Fumio’s back.

  That made the girl extremely worried, but not only Daiki promised to not let anything happen to her, many boys from the sports clubs also warned the gang members there’d be serious repercussions if they so much as looked her, or any other girl from school, the wrong way. Once the word about Fumio’s harsh ways of trying to get girls spread, many female students denounced the four remaining gang morons to the director’s secretary, which gave everyone hopes that the quartet would be expelled. Unfortunately the director couldn’t attend work that day due to a light injury suffered when some crazy driver crashed on his car the night before, but nevertheless by Friday things were probably going to be settled. Tension went sky high, but since the four were severely outnumbered, they evaded conflicts. Too bad a thunderstorm raged, because the gang could no longer claim the terraced rooftop theirs with dozens of boys itching for the slightest reason to unite like Naoko was seen mentioning in the videos and squish the petty opposition. Demoralized, with their ranks thinned down and besieged, there wasn’t much Fumio and his minions could do but wait.

  As class president Miwa told Naoko to calm herdown, from what little info she had on the rooftop gang, they’re one of those thorns that acted through hard to prove threats and little else, it seemed. They’re scary for individuals to face head-on but did no real harm to anyone to justify a full-force intervention by the school. If anything else, they fought themselves instead of others, and when teachers tried to assess if they’re doing something wrong, like baring students from accessing the rooftop, they simply denied it, though as soon as the authorities had turned their backs they resumed their doings, such as the trifling territory wars against no specific targets and with no weapons other than bluffs. No one really tried anymore to cross the lines the gang drew just so as not to test if their threats had any bite along with the barks, but besides a few minor brawls, the troublemakers posed no danger if people were united. What kept them from being wiped-out was that until then they’d given others little reason to get together against the gang. In other words, like Naoko summarized, they’re a bunch of sissies that only knew how to threaten but paled away from any real challenge.

  The only problematic part about facing them, according to Miwa, was the supposed dream the gang leader had of someday joining a real crime organization. The idea of clashing against a guy with such a terrifying plan for life scared people. Seeing Naoko got even more worried, Miwa quickly apologized and reassured her they wouldn’t be able to do it, she thought. Their wimpy infamy generated by the video would prevent it, though Naoko insisted that didn’t suffice as proof they wouldn’t be able to join a mafia family someday. So far they’re just students, after all.

  The girl didn’t have too much time to worry, though, because her female classmates kept her busy every free minute they had talking about a wide array of topics. At first they invariably related to the incident, but quickly went astray, from clothes to who was the “strange boy” she referred to Daiki had vowed to protect her from in a part of the videos. It worried Naoko she could have said something wrong that her freakish neighbor Katsuro could’ve watched too, but as her friends replayed the video she felt relieved to discover the complete quote was “You said you’d protect me from that strange boy, but at least he mustered up the courage to come talk to me and respected me instead of forcing himself on me or acting like he’d punch my face every time he heard something he disliked!” So she’d actually praised the smiling boy for his courage and respectfulness. Nothing to fret over. Though the more she thought about it, the more she got concerned again. Not that Katsuro wouldn’t like it, but that he’d be encouraged to try again…

  During all day Naoko fled from her concerns through social interactions, but as she returned to her room, changed clothes and went, under sparse rain, to the dojo, feelings of uneasiness got the best of her. The more she thought about Fumio’s promise of revenge, the more scared she became. Maybe it happened tomorrow, or maybe it took ten years to happen, once he became a respected member of a crime organization. That boy was seriously problematic, however much Miwa tried to convince her otherwise.

  So afraid she got thinking how bad that payback could be that Naoko simply had to show that video to her newly acquired friends in the dojo and tell them the story before the training. At first she did so in high spirits, but after she told them about the vendetta topic the girl took a turn to the gloomy side. Deep down Naoko wanted to be reassured that others would help her if she needed, though maybe she knew too little about the people that trained with her, for after all the fun with the lighthearted part they simply acknowledged the problem but tried to minimize it, telling her there’s nothing to worry about.

  That’s because they weren’t being threatened, Naoko imagined. However her training was so exhaustive that Naoko had no chance to think about her problems during it, and no energy to do so after. Only not nauseated like the first time, the girl was nevertheless fatigued. So much she didn’t even notice that woman silently training nearby, and how her master asked her again after the training if she wanted to talk to him about anything that bothered her. She refused, though, thanking him for the concern but declaring there was nothing currently disquieting her.

  As class was over and her master called Naoko to ask what troubled her so clearly during that day that her moves seemed shy even though the girl could swear she’s focusing on her exercises, Naoko briefly explained the situation to him. She wasn’t really expecting help from Ban-Sensei, but under the circumstances any advice he could spare would be already appreciated and she asked for such.

  After a brief deliberation the old man replied:

  “When you think too much about your fears, you lose sight of your potentials and the fact the other party also have fears. They only have the upper hand right now because they threaten you to make yours come true, whereas you don’t do the same for them.”

  Quickly thinking about that, Naoko inquired:

  “But what can those boys fear that I could threaten to make real, Ban-Sensei? I can’t simply attack them straight on! And they act like not even being expelled from school is a big deal! Not even causing problems that require police intervention, too!”

  “Physical violence is just a last resort,” Ban-Sensei explained, “There are a couple of ways you can go. If those boys make constant use of it or threatens to do so, it means they have no other tools to make their desires come true. Yano-San doesn’t have to lower herself to the same level or trying to employ the same tactics your opponent use and thrive on. If there are dreams, however, there is fear those dreams might not come to fruition, and a million ways those fears can become a reality. An expulsion might not be it, but there’s bound to be a way. Find it and explore it with the tools you do have. Alternatively, help them develop other tools to achieve their dreams so they don’t have to rely on aggression.”

  “The gang leader’s dream is to become a full-blown criminal!” Naoko insisted, “I can’t help them achieve it. Thought the part of exploring their fears might be plausible!”

  “Dreams are never bad things, Yano-San,” Ban-Sensei clarified, “What you do to make them come true is what can be understood as good or bad. Dreams are but necessities and desires, such as to be healthy, to have friends, to not be alone, to be respected or to be happy.
If in order to be happy and respected you think you need to steal and threaten people, that’s not part of your core dream, but the goal you set for yourself to achieve in order to fulfill your dream. People hardly ever fulfill dreams because even after reaching a goal, they just set the bar higher and higher. Goals are as limited and twisted as the mind that created them and relies on the tools available to the person, but dreams? They’re almost universal, and never bad in itself. You can’t blame a person for wanting a romantic relationship, though you can blame them for the way they choose to realize it. The same way a person can hurt itself or others if they only have a maul to use in order to slice bread, and wouldn’t be a threat to others if someone lent him or her a knife, everyone has its limitations, and need to make do with tools unsuited for the task. Most of the time people hurt others because of their internal limitations: they don’t have the right tools to fulfill their dreams in an efficient way and create roundabout goals to try and do so.”

  Closing his eyes and speaking from heart, the old master continued:

  “It may be tempting to judge a person’s goals based on your perspective, but rest assured if a task seems easy for you, that’s because you have the right tools to tackle it, though not everyone do, and certainly they don’t have it because they don’t find a way to develop it inside them, not because they don’t want it. Believe in the purity and goodness of everyone’s dreams, Yano-San, though put their methods to achieve it under suspicion. Act either to help them find better alternatives to reach their innermost, positive needs and desires, or instill fear in them by threatening to ruin the goals they currently set. The second’s only a palliative, though, for the desires and needs of the person would still be unfulfilled, possibly prompting them to try again at a later date with even less adequate tools, maybe not against you, but against someone. And in case all two fail, only then physical violence becomes viable, only to protect yourself and those you care about and only with the minimum required amount of strength to make it do. And even then, if you saw the situation before it came down to that and still had to employ physical violence, rest assured you also failed somewhere along the road. If you’re taken unexpectedly by assault, employ it, but if you had the chance to foresee it and failed to at least try to take steps to prevent it, you can’t truly say you have a better heart than those who attacked you.”

  Like last time, her sensei’s words lightened her burden and made her think more clearly. Her fears almost disappeared after her master mentioned the goodness of the innermost needs and desires of anyone. Thinking like that, Daiki had repented after noticing how twisted had become his ways of achieving whatever ends he wanted. To be part of a group or having others to rely on, maybe. Perhaps Fumio and the other boys also just wanted things like having a girlfriend or being accepted, but limited as those numbskulls were, the means they found to make it true were as limited as their brainpower and honor.

  Soon after Naoko thanked Master Ban and went to the female’s locker room, that woman dismissively broke the silence and asked her if it was true what others were saying about someone having threatened the girl to pay her back for something. The woman, though looking inattentive to her while folding her clothes, had actually gone through the trouble of trying to bridge the distance between the two, so Naoko felt she had to encourage that somehow. The exhausted girl showed the woman the video and explained the situation. The short female karateka, becoming gradually more aloof and sour while watching Naoko owning the washhouse couldn’t prevent herself from mentioning in an ill-spirited, roundabout way:

  “Someone who butts in other people’s businesses and thereafter reduces to nothing a boy who said he liked her and all of his friends, while having to rely on others for protection, practically asks for bad consequences.”

  Once again, if Naoko wasn’t tired to the point of asking herself if she’d have the energy to return home, she would’ve counterattacked. It immediately made her decide she’d need to get on that athletics club to help her get in shape quicker. That woman was clearly trying to pick a fight with her, though every time she let her mind slip she became too afraid of the consequences herself and quickly escaped while bearing an apologetic look on her face. It wasn’t common for someone to say her mind like that when it clearly hurt others, that whore should either have brain problems or was beyond wrathful to not be able to control herself. Either way, she once again ruined Naoko’s good mood, though not for long that time. As the girl contemplated Ban-Sensei’s words while watching the rain wet the train’s windows, she suddenly had an uplifting insight.

  That ugly, sourpuss, socially inept woman had done exactly what she condemned by butting in other’s lives and reducing another person’s will to zero, while evading the results. She was also begging for bad things to happen to her, but she did that anyway. Looking back, she was a person very few people she talked to in the dojo, while Naoko, on the second day of her training, had already attracted more people around her than the other female had in many years. Also the “reduces to nothing a boy who said he liked her” part felt strangely specific. She could’ve pointed out other much more pronounced characteristics in Daiki-Kun. Why focusing on the declaration he liked her, which was only briefly mentioned once or twice in the video if she recalled it correctly? As her master said, people had good dreams but not always good methods to fulfill them. Maybe that woman, despite all her evident envy, only wanted not to be alone, but in the absence of better “tools”, better social skills or whatever, to fulfill it opted to try and verbally abuse Naoko, who “stole” the attention of the three instructors, the only people with whom the woman talked to in the dojo.

  Thinking about that, Naoko suddenly realized the “someone who butts in other people’s businesses” while “having to rely on others for protection” parts of the sentence made a whole lot of sense when she tried to look from that woman’s perspective: a girl came apparently invading her space and quickly became something like a “favorite” of others, meaning the person who was there before couldn’t react without fearing retaliations from the others. That could be seen in her coward acts after she said something stupid. Like her master told her, it’d be easy for Naoko to judge that moron’s acts wrong, but that woman probably just didn’t have the tools Naoko did to perform well in social interactions.

  That insight made Naoko all the happier. It wasn’t her fault, but a limitation of another person who made that woman attack her, much the same as it wasn’t anyone’s fault if Fumio was nothing but a critter who couldn’t see how childish he was and had no capability to take no for an answer. They seriously lacked tools to achieve their goals, and it made Naoko somehow cheerful. It’s wrong, but kind of good to know the people who scared and bullied her suffered in their own ways, not unlike that Katsuro grinning boy too. Only it looked too pious and forgiving to help such people get the required tools, and much fairer to just find how their fears could be exploited so as not to make them mistreat her again. It’s clear that dojo woman feared Naoko’s reactions, Fumio must had something that scared him too. Something related to making his goals not coming to fruition, like Master Ban told her. Maybe if he permanently lost his chances to becoming a yakuza goon?

  Naoko had also listened to the part where her master told her to scare people was just a temporary solution, though, so while the prospect of paying them back what they deserved sounded more appealing, she returned home thinking whether or not she should try to help those people reach their innermost dreams and, if so, how.

  One thing was for sure, though: Naoko’s fears had dissipated and her overjoyed self had returned.