How could he? Why? Why was he out for me? I stabbed my salad, imagining it was his face. "Stupid...brute...!" I muttered to my friend, Shibazaki, who was sitting at the same table as me, with some other girls in training with us. "Fifty push-ups...jerk!"
"Shibazaki," I heard one of the women next to us whisper. "what's she ranting about this time?"
Shibazaki flipped her hair back as she said, "Well, you know Instructor Dojo?" The girls nodded. My head head hit the table at his name. No one noticed. "It started with him. If you didn't know, she finished the high port in twelfth out of fifty, including men. She was the first woman to finish, too," she continued, oblivious to my utter dismay. "When she passed the finish line, she almost immediately collapsed. Instructor Dojo ordered her to do push-ups as punishment."
I winced at the memory.
"Kasahara! Who said you could rest? Push-ups! Now!" I stared at him for a moment. He glanced back at me. "What are you staring at? Get to those push-ups!" I flung myself to the ground.
"Y-yes, sir!" While I was doing the push-ups, I kept muttering things like "jerk!" and "shorty!" under my breath. Luckily, I don't think he heard. The others in training just stood gawking. Cowards!
"Whoa...he sounds...strict," the woman said. I nodded glumly.
"Sure, but I like him," Shibazaki cooed, a far away look in her eyes.
"What?!" I barked. "That shorty?"
"Come on, Iku, just because you're taller than everyone doesn't mean you should pick on him," she said, giving me a withering look.
"Don't even go there! He's really mean, too!" I objected.
"So, that's what you think of me," I heard. That voice—Instructor Dojo! I turned my head to see him behind my chair, giving me one of his I'll-kill-you-now looks. "I'm a short, mean maniac? I'll just give you a warning: From here on out, I won't be responsible of my actions, after what I just heard." Without another word, he turned away.
"Oh, I was so right to stick up for you, Instructor Dojo," Shibazaki flirted carelessly. Dojo didn't say anything. I choked on my salad when I heard the sexy edge to her voice. She glared at me, then smiled pleasantly again as Instructor Komaki walked over.
"No wonder you almost choked on your food, Kasahara! You eat so fast. You know, it's unhealthy." Komaki commented to me as he saw me gulp down some water to make the salad go down. "Make sure you chew before you swallow." Smiling, he sat at the table opposite of us, and, to my complete and utter horror, Dojo sat down, too.
Glaring at his presence, I got up from my chair with a huff. "I've suddenly lost my appetite," I said bluntly. I thought I heard Dojo mutter, "Don't be so childish..." but turned on my heel in the other direction. "Come on, Shibazaki, I'm outta here."
"Wait...! Kasahara!" I groaned inside as I turned again. Dojo had something in his hand. "You dropped this." Suddenly, I realized it was the postcard I had been keeping in my pocket, but unable to send.
"You can throw it away," I said as I turned away again. "If I actually sent it, my parents would drag me back home with them."
Dojo didn't answer as I turned away.
"Bye, Instructor Dojo," Shibazaki said, and winked as she followed me.
The beginning of book hunting started in the era of Showa, when the Media Betterment Act was passed. The Media Betterment Act let the Media Betterment Committee exercise censorship over media, including restricting books they thought offensive. Their mission is to take away the right of citizens to have access to free media. That is why, I, Iku Kasahara, want to be in the Library Forces, fighting this war between the libraries and the goverment media communities. And...
I slammed my opponent down onto the mat, hardly breaking a sweat. Yes, the Defense Force is for me, no matter what others think. Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I'm weak or vulnerable. I'm—
"Kasahara," the woman I had just slammed down groaned. She was still lying there on the mat. "why don't you fight someone else for a while? We need a break,"
I looked around. There were no more women to fight. There were just men. I turned back to the woman. "But there's no one else to fight," I whined.
She sat up and looked at me. "Then fight one of the men...I'm sure it'd be a fair fight," She laid back down, and groaned again.
"Yeah! I'll fight you Kasahara!" one man cheered. "I'd have you down in two seconds!" I scratched my head.
"I—" I started.
"Men! Stand down!" Instructor Dojo yelled at the men, stepping onto the mat. They started muttering darkly. "I'll take on Kasahara," he announced, and I gagged. Why him? "If you have a problem with it, take it up with some push-ups. All of you need more training, I'm sure of it."
I scoffed. "I'm sure I can take you, sir," I said earnestly. "You're so much smaller than me, after all." I cracked my knuckles, grinning. Dojo said nothing.
"Start!"
I didn't expect it, but he charged. I tried fighting back, but it was useless—he was too strong, and I was too weak. No! I'm losing! I hit the mat, hard, and lay there while Dojo gloated.
"Heh," he started. "You may be strong, Kasahara, but you're no match for someone ranked as high up as me. Just give up already." He turned around, as if he had defeated me.
"Well...you know what..." I muttered. "I don't give up without a fight!" Without getting up, I kicked my legs up, and hit him in the back. The impact startled me for a second.
Dojo was on the ground for a second, then slowly got up, and when he turned to face me, my heart skipped a beat. Uh-oh... "So that's how you want to play," he said, then suddenly charged me.
"Ahhh! Instructor Dojo, get off of me!" Instructor Dojo had me in an arm hold, and it felt like he was pulling my arm off. "Is this how you treat all of your trainees?!" I yelled, tears pricking my eyes because of the pain.
"Only the ones who drop-kick me," he said calmly, holding my arm tighter. He suddenly looked at one of the men who had wanted to fight me. "What are you standing around for? Count to thirty!"
"Wh—y-yes, sir! One, two..." he started.
"Thirty?! Instructor Dojo!"
"So...you drop kicked Instructor Dojo and he did an arm hold on you?" Shibazaki asked as she blow dried her hair. Her hair was already soft and shiny, unlike mine, which was always rough. How did she do it...
"That sums it up..." I muttered as I put the last bandage on. I had bruises all up the arm that Dojo had had in a hold, and it hurt like hell. That was the last time I drop-kicked a man that could blow a hole through me and hurt even my innards.
"Well...it served you right," Shibazaki confessed.
"W-what?" I sputtered. "Whose side are you on?!"
Shibazaki just shrugged. "You had the nerve to drop-kick a ranking officer. You had it coming." She paused. "But...the way he handled you...was beautiful! And amazing!" she gushed, blushing slightly.
"How could you say that?!" I asked, but she went on, as if she couldn't hear me.
"He's such a gentleman! You're lucky he didn't snap that arm of yours off!"
"Ugh!" I turned around in a huff, meaning to slap some sense into her. Why couldn't she see that he was trying to make my life miserable? Why—
"You're parents don't know you've been assigned to the Defense Force, right?" It came just out of the blue—no where. Of course they didn't know; if I had told them, they would have ran all the way here and dragged me back home, saying all the while that it was "safe". But I didn't want safe; I wanted justice. And... I wanted to be like him.
When I was silent, she said, "If they ever come to visit, you can just pretend you're a normal librarian. No harm in that. Unless they watch you work..."
But I wasn't listening anymore. Remembering my parents made me remember my childhood.
My parents were the type that wanted a perfect daughter—that included acting like a lady. But I wasn't like that. I would always be running around with my three brothers, getting dirty, and acting nothing like they would like to see. Being "perfect" just wasn't me. Also, I was a big reader, so I would often go the the bookstore. That's what I did that day...
It was fall of my senior year when I went to the book store...and the day that changed my life.
"Finally! I've been waiting so long!" I cried in delight as I held a fairytale book in my hands.
"We're with the Media Betterment Committee! We're here to pick up offensive books! If you fight back, we will have to take them by force." a booming voice was suddenly heard.
No! Not this book—not this time.
"Offensive," one man reported. "but this one's good."
I've been waiting too long...
"Hey, you, what do you have?" a man neared me—one of the Media Betterment Committee. A gun was on his waist.
...to lose it now!
I tried to run, but he caught me. The book fell out of my hands, and onto the floor. "No!" I yelled, scrambling for the book.
"This one's offensive. You can't have it." He caught me again, and I tried to get out of his hold. Another man picked up the book.
"No! Give me back that book!" I screamed. Instead of trying to pull away, I grabbed his arm, pleading with him. "Please!"
"Let go of me! If you don't I'll have to bring you to the police and report you as a thief." My heart skipped a beat. A...thief... How could a school girl be seen as a thief?
"Then, I'm a thief! Take me away!" I said. "The book will need to be kept as evidence!" I didn't want to...but how could I not? I couldn't let them get away with it.
"Get—off!" Suddenly, he smacked me on the face, hard. I fell, to the hard, cold floor—but then, I was in someone's arms. What? Before I could get a clear look at my savior's face, he pulled away, setting me on the floor.
"In accordance with the Library Freedom Act, article thirty, and as a sergeant in the Library Forces..." he stated. "I am excercising the right to collect these books!" The men almost instantly left, with dark looks and angry forms, but they left. They librarians bowed to him and thanked him.
I didn't understand. He's a...hero. He saved me.
"Here."
Suddenly, there he was, in front of me. He was holding the book out to me, with a gentle smile on his face. Why... "Don't you need to collect this?" I asked. Of course I wanted the book, but...I didn't understand.
"We don't take all the books. Sometimes, there are a few that are left behind," he explained. "Take it. You took the risk for it. It's yours." I took the book, and, suddenly, I couldn't hold in the tears. They just ran down my face, landing on my knees. I hugged the book close, still crying.
Suddenly, there was a soft pat on my head. The man was comforting me. So much like... a prince.
And that's when it began.
"I would like to be in the Library Force!" I said, eager to tell them why.
"And why do you want to be an elite of the Force?" one of the men at a table asked. This was my time. I can do this!
"I'll tell you gladly!" And I began. "There is a man I aspire to be like... I don't remember his face, and I don't know his name, but he's still my hero! He was cool and calm in a moment when those things didn't matter. He was a—" Prince. But I couldn't tell them that. Half of the table was already laughing. I can't give up! "I'll try my best to be like him, to be so strong in a time of fear! I will be like my hero!"
"A-alright," one man—a huge, strong man—said, shaking from laughing so hard. I tried not to blush. "N-next!"
"Hey, Kasahara," I heard from behind. I turned around, and there was Komaki, smiling as usual.
"Hello, sir," I saluted, feeling a little awkward. He smiled.
"I just have a quick question for you..." he said vaguely. "...and I hope you don't blow up." Blow up? Why would I— "Why do you hate Dojo so much?"
I coughed. "Me? Hate him? I think it's the opposite, sir," I scoffed.
"Oh, I'm sure he doesn't hate you. Maybe he just wants to see you go up and above." he suggested, smiling.
I glared at him. As if.
"Kasahara! Don't let your guard down!" Dojo slammed me down onto the mat. I groaned and rolled over, splayed out on the mat. "Get up, block head..." Dojo stepped on my back, and pushed hard. I tried to scurry away, like a bug. "Where are you going?" I stopped at the menacing tone in his voice. "Get back here, and fight...if you're up to it..."
Suddenly—"Ahhh!"
"Yeah. He hates me." I said bluntly.
Komaki smiled and shrugged. "Just think about it." I huffed, and he chuckled. Suddenly, he gently patted my head. "Don't get so worked up. I'm sure you'll face worse horrors than Dojo." Very helpful, Instructor Komaki... But he made me feel just a little better about the threat of Dojo looming over my shoulder.
"The Musashino Main Library," I breathed as I stepped inside. The nearest branch to the base. The inside was filled with people, looking for all kinds of books. The inside wasn't too different from our library, but it was so different in a way that I knew I'd get lost quickly. We were at this library to do on-the-job training. It would have been an exciting experience...
If I hadn't been teamed up with Dojo.
As I looked away from my partner, I wondered why I wasn't paired up with someone a little bit nicer and not as grumpy.
"Kasahara!" Dojo snapped when he saw my face turned away, staring into space. My head snapped back to him. "Keep your eyes open for trouble! Don't zone out on me!" His foot was tapping the ground impatiently, as if he couldn't wait for the asignment to be over. I feel the same way, jerk, I thought silently.
Suddenly, someone caught my eye. I wasn't too sure why I just happened to look at him, or how I knew there was something about the way he was standing, the way he was wringing his hands anxiously...
Or how he was concealing something in his coat.
"Sir," I said to Dojo. He glanced at me, a scowl on his face. "there's a suspicious looking man over there."
He looked at the man I was signaling to. "Good eye," he said wryly. Jealous he didn't notice, I bet, I huffed. "Go question him." I nodded, and walked up to the man with deep strides.
"Excuse m—" I was about to say, but before I got near enough for him to hear me, he dashed into the restroom. What is he doing? Being inconsiderate of what type gender the restroom was, I stepped in and gasped as I saw the man.
What I saw severely shocked me; the man was holding a knife to a magazine, a smirk on his face. His head whipped up when he saw me come in. "W-who are you?" he asked, stuttering. He backed away, weilding the knife out at me.
I stepped forward. "Sir, please put the knife down..."
The man shook his head; he was actually shaking all over. "N-no!" He suddenly charged, coming at me with the knife. My eyes widened, but reflex took over. When he came near, I grabbed his arm and knocked the knife out of his hand, punching him in the face. He fell to the ground with a grunt.
I suddenly felt elated. Dojo ran in, eyes widening when he saw me standing over the crumpled figure on the floor. "Instructor Dojo!" I cried. "He had a knife, and I still won! Instructor Dojo—"
"Kasahara! Behind you!" I swung around. The man was getting up again, and coming right at me. I thought it would hurt; I thought it would be swift and silent. But nothing happened the way I thought. I closed my eyes a moment before he would have hit me.
A grunt echoed a moment later in my ears. I opened my eyes—to see Dojo in front of me, holding the man off. The man hit the ground again, in a split second, and Dojo handcuffed him. For a moment, everyone in the room was silent.
Dojo walked up to where I was on the ground. He held out a hand, which surprised me. He's...helping me? I hesitated, then took his hand and let him haul me up. Smack! My mind reeled as I gingerly touched my cheek. What just happened?
"Idiot!" Dojo hollered at me. "Always keep your eyes on the suspect! You should have handcuffed him!" Turning away, he hauled the man up, who looked sickishly pale. "Play sports if you want..." he said. "...but don't do both this job and that. If you do, this job just isn't for you." Then he was gone, leaving me to my thoughts and a stinging cheek.
I sighed as I walked down the dorm hall. Shibazaki's shrill, girly voice still echoed in my head, along with the slap that had left my cheek swollen, throbbing, and red. Two men had already walked by, saw my cheek, and started laughing.
"You know," Shibazaki said as she made her bed. "I heard that Dojo gave you the credit on the report," My head whipped around as I stared at her. She calmly kept making her already-too-neat bed; mine was covered with books and snack bags, unmade.
"What?" I croaked. Everytime I spoke, my cheek throbbed in response, reminding me of that afternoon.
"I said, he gave you the credit, even though you made a mistake," she repeated, sighing as she looked down at my bed. "Are you ever going to clean this mess up?"
I waved off her response. "But why?" I asked, more to myself than Shibazaki. I'd messed up big time...Dojo got hurt because of me...why was that jerk being so...nice? I turned around and marched to the door. "I-I need to go out for a bit," I stuttered, opening the door. "and, no, I was waiting for you to clean it."
I frowned, wondering why my eyes were filling with tears. They streamed down my cheeks, down to the tile below. I sobbed as I walked on, covering my face with my hands, hardly knowing where I was going. When I did look, I was in the lobby. And, through the blur of tears, I saw Dojo, sitting on the couch. What is he...? I wiped my eyes, since it was obvious I had been crying.
We stared at each other for a while. He was the first one to turn his head away, breaking eye contact. "What do you want?" he asked gruffly, drinking a canned beverage.
"N-nothing, sir," I stammered, instantly cursing myself for the stutter in my voice. Suddenly, I remembered. "Sir...?" I hesitated.
Dojo sighed. "What is it now, Kasahara?" He glanced at me, and looked shock. Tears were yet again streaming down my face. Had he not seen them before...? "Shibazaki told me..." I sobbed. "...that you gave me credit on the report. But I don't deserve it!" I went on, tears still falling to the floor. "I got you hurt, I didn't keep my eye on the suspect, I—" I stopped as I felt a gentle pat on my head.
That feeling...that gentle pat...why is it so familar? Dojo looked away as I looked up. "Stop blaming yourself, block-head," he said softly, moving away.
"Sir..." I whispered, at a loss for words. I saluted, smiling. "I'm not going to quit, sir," I said. "I'm going to try harder, and make less mistakes—" I remembered my motivation. "—because I'm going to be like him."
Dojo stopped walking away, his back to me. "Are you talking about the man you mentioned in your interview?" I nodded eagerly, oblivious to the fact he couldn't see me, but he still went on, "Is he...worth it?"
I smiled, holding my hand near my heart. "Yes, he is," I replied softly. "Completely worth it. He's...the man of my dreams...the one that keeps me going."
For a moment, Dojo was silent, and then he clenched his fists. "Remember that." he said, then marched out of the lobby.
"Yes, sir!" I hollered after him. "My every word!"