ACT 1 – Grasshopper

Part 1: 'Walk in the Middle'

I don't know what I'm doing wrong.

It's a frustrating thought, one that's been crossing my mind a lot lately. I try to brush it off and not dwell on it too much, but it's especially hard to ignore it in the rare moments I have to myself, such as this godawful morning routine.

Leaning against my desk, gripping my glass of lukewarm tap water, I allow myself a few short breaths to prepare before I down the first of the larger tablets I need to take each day in order to survive. In the beginning, when I had first started taking my medication, I had opted to take the smaller pills first and work my way up to the big ones. These days I'd rather just get the uncomfortable part over and done with. I hope the gag reflex eventually goes away with experience.

…Not that I would ever want to take advantage of the lack of a gag reflex.

I look over to the alarm clock on my bedside table and see that there's still fifteen minutes left before I have to go meet up with Emi for my daily exercise. That's fifteen more minutes to feel sorry for myself and ponder how I could have possibly handled my situation differently.

One ungraceful flop later, and I'm lying down on my bed once more, staring up at the tiled ceiling of my still unfamiliar dorm room.

I've been here at Yamaku less than a week, yet it feels as if it's already been a month. It's funny how good times pass in an instant, but when things get rough it seems to last forever. 'Father Time' must be a bit of a prankster.

You feel fantastic. Surrounded by fluffy, white snow, standing opposite a blushing classmate, letting it sink in that someone as cute as her has confessed her feelings for you. That's over almost instantly. In exchange for that one fleeting moment of happiness you're rewarded with cardiac arrest, a lonely hospital room, and months of suffering. Then you're shipped off to a new school which caters exclusively to defective misfit toys such as yourself.

I turn my head to look out my window, but the sun is just coming out now so I can't see too much outside. Instead, I'm met with the gaze of my own reflection. Brown eyes and messy brown hair. Not great looking, but not ugly. Generally inoffensive, other than the irritating, upright strands of hair in the middle of my scalp which refuse to stay down despite eighteen years of my best efforts. That, and I cut my cheek shaving ten minutes ago. My hands have gotten shaky the past couple of days.

"Hello, Hisao."

He doesn't respond because I don't let him. Having conversations with yourself is weird.

After taking one last, deep breath to steady my nerves I force myself off of my mattress and shoot forwards toward my bedroom door, grabbing my water bottle in the process. I take special care to proceed slowly past the door of my neighbour, Kenji Setou, lest I wake him up and get assaulted by yet another diatribe against anyone and everyone who had the audacity to be born with a vagina.

Deep down, I know that I shouldn't be so antagonistic with Kenji. He's mostly harmless, and clearly has some of his own issues to deal with. In his own twisted way, he's gone through a lot of effort to make me feel welcome at Yamaku. He can be counted among the handful of people I've tentatively come to consider friends since transferring here. As a result, he's also a contributing factor to my current anxiety.

Upon reaching the main entrance to the boys' dormitory and heading outside onto the school grounds, I immediately notice how nice the weather is. The rising sun casts a warm, orange glow over the school building and reflects beautifully off of the freshly mowed, dew-laden grass surrounding the area. The pleasant sight stands in stark contrast to my current mood, so much so that it's almost insulting. It's like the world is mocking me. I do my best to shake away the cynical thought and continue my brisk walk toward the track.

Admittedly, maybe this is all my fault. It could be that I'm going about adjusting to my new life incorrectly. On paper, what I've done seems perfectly reasonable. When someone is thrust into a brand new school, especially in the middle of their graduating year, they're typically encouraged to put themselves out there and make friends.

By the time I had arrived at Yamaku, all of the other students were firmly set in their cliques and social circles. Everyone else had had years to become familiar with one another. They had the opportunity to slowly become acquainted with their peers and allow bonds to form organically. I had no such opportunities, so I've had to settle for a more active approach.

It's one thing to become disabled, but I refuse to be considered an outcast in a school for the disabled. My pride can only take so many hits. Whenever I've been presented with the chance to form friendships with my classmates I've jumped at it. It has quickly gotten out of hand.

It's been one of the most daunting tasks I've ever faced, second only to coping with my newfound heart condition. I never had that many buddies at my old school, so trying to juggle a myriad of burgeoning friendships at once is more emotionally taxing than I could have ever anticipated. It's borderline torture.

I know that I should be grateful for the company, especially when said company mostly consists of beautiful girls, but when you become friends with someone, it's like signing a contract of sorts. An unspoken agreement to spend a certain amount of time with them and to assist them with any problems or baggage they might have. Sounds easy enough, but it gets complicated when you're dealing with an entire roster of disabled women. I'm being run ragged. Just thinking about my average day is enough to kick start a headache.

I wake up early every morning to meet with my running partner. She can be a tad overbearing, but she's nice enough. Once I've completed my laps I head over to the nurse's office at his behest so he can monitor my condition. It's hard not to view this as a chore, even though it's for my own benefit.

The school day then commences proper and I go about attending my classes. My science teacher has taken a special interest in me and has given several not-so-subtle hints that science is a field I should pursue after graduating, even though I haven't even been here a week yet. I suppose he was particularly impressed with how rapidly I've caught up with the rest of the class, and the ease with which I tend to finish assignments. It's flattering, but I haven't made any decisions yet and his insistence in the matter is very grating.

Throughout my various classes I'm constantly pestered by the only two members of the Student Council, as they remain steadfast in their quest to recruit me into their freaky cult. I've made my reluctance no secret, but they insist on trying to persuade me anyway. They're like rabid pit bulls with blue and pink fur, respectively. Also, one of the dogs has drills for ears.

I get a small break at lunchtime, when I usually eat with two quiet and more reserved girls in a room that rarely sees use otherwise. They're both a pleasure to sit with, though one of the pair is so anxious around me that I can't help but feel as if I'm not truly welcome there. I don't mean to impose, but I despise eating in the cafeteria with the rest of the herd, so I hope she doesn't mind too much.

After finishing up my afternoon classes, I head back to the dorm for the night, but usually get seized along the way by an eccentric, armless painter from the art club. She asks for my help with fetching and mixing her paints while she works on her mural for the upcoming school festival. Half of my time with her is spent mixing, while the other half is spent attempting to decipher the nonsense that comes out of her mouth. It's as if she speaks in hieroglyphs.

When I do finally manage to retire to my room, I have a couple hours left to catch up on any homework I may have, and what little time I have left to myself is robbed by my neighbour kicking my door down to see if 'they' have wiretapped my room or not.

I live for the moments when I manage to slip away from my responsibilities and read a chapter or two of a good book. However, like any good thing, my time with my books is rare and brief. People say that escapism is unhealthy, but it's one of the only things keeping me sane.

Even my dreams aren't my own. What should be my time to recuperate is often plagued by nightmares of snowy forests and infinite, sterile white hallways that reek of chemicals and desperation.

I should be thrilled that so many people are willing to spend time with me. I just never thought it would involve so much… work. I'm running on fumes 24/7. It's like someone has strapped two bandoliers equipped with dozens of Tamagotchis across my chest and expects me to keep all of my little digital pets alive. What a mess.

I just want people to like me for once. No matter what it takes.

As I move from the grass onto the smooth, synthetic surface of the school's running track, I spot a familiar figure near the bleachers bouncing up and down on her prosthetics impatiently.

Emi Ibarazaki. 'The fastest thing on no legs.' Star of the school's track team. A diminutive, bubbly girl with bright green eyes and strawberry-blonde hair that's been styled into twintails. She can more often than not be seen in her running attire, which consists of a pink t-shirt and a pair of dangerously revealing red bloomers. It makes me feel rude admitting it, but her most striking feature is her legs, or lack thereof. I haven't asked her how she lost them. If she wanted me to know she would tell me.

It would be hypocritical of me to judge her for keeping her cards close to her chest. I've been equally hesitant to let people know about my arrhythmia.

Despite her situation, her impairment definitely hasn't done much to slow her down, figuratively or literally. I admire her resolve. I wish it were possible to siphon some of her energy for my own usage, seeing as she has plenty to spare. Come to think of it… wanting to absorb the energy out of someone is oddly reminiscent of something Kenji told me recently. During one of his late night visits, he had tried to convince me that women were able to suck out a man's life-force.

Is that why I'm so miserable and exhausted? Have I been infected by the femini—NO. Absolutely not. Stop that right now, me.

I swiftly drive away the greasy-haired, Coke-bottle glasses wearing gremlin that had momentarily infiltrated my thoughts as I approach Emi.

"Good morning, Emi," I say with as much joviality as I can hope to muster.

"May as well be good afternoon with how late you are, Hisao. And here I thought you enjoyed spending time with me," she throws back at me, masking herself in one her most lethal, signature puppy-dog pouts that I've yet to witness. It makes me want to donate money to a local animal shelter whenever she subjects me to it.

I'm taken aback for a moment. If nothing else, I pride myself on my punctuality. Surely she must be overreacting.

A quick glance down at my watch confirms my suspicions.

"I'm only four minutes late, Emi."

"That's four minutes you should have been running, Hisao. Maybe if you had run here we wouldn't be in this predicament in the first place," she retorts, sporting a menacing grin.

"We're in a predicament now? Over losing four minutes?" I ask, looking at her inquisitively to gauge whether or not she's being serious. It's hard to tell with her because she uses the same smile when she's being mischievous and when she's really pissed. Neither option is good, but I would still prefer the former.

She looks back at me through half-lidded eyes. "You're doing two extra laps today," her smile twists a bit further up on either side before continuing, "and you'd better win me something nice at the festival tomorrow."

At this, she can't keep up the intimidating façade anymore and bursts out laughing. I would probably join in if not for the fact that what she just said to me has sent a chill down my spine. It completely slipped my mind that the festival was tomorrow. I got so caught up in everything that I had forgotten when it was actually taking place, despite having assisted with multiple facets of it.

Hanako and I helped decorate the stall for Lilly's class, along with Kenji. Additionally, Emi and I have both been helping Rin so that she can complete her mural on time. On top of all that, I've been roped into doing all kinds of busywork surrounding the festival on the Student Council's behalf.

Yet I'm too absentminded to remember when the date of the event is. I'm an idiot. Maybe I have undiagnosed brain damage on top of the bum heart.

Who am I supposed to attend it with? Do any of the girls expect me to go with them? Do all of the girls expect me to go with them? Does Kenji expect me to go with him? I'm going to throw up. I don't want Emi to see. Throwing up in front of someone is very intimate, like losing your virginity or telling them that you love them. The relationship is never the same. I'm not ready for that kind of commitment.

As I'm contemplating whether it's more polite to vomit on the track itself or the grass next to it, for the custodian's sake, Emi interrupts my thoughts.

"Hisao, are you alright? You're sweating bullets and we haven't even started running yet," she says as she takes a closer look at me, "Your face is all pale too. I might be strict about your training, but if you're not feeling well maybe you should go see the nurse ahead of time," Emi offers sympathetically.

She's right. Allowing me to skip our run together is extremely uncharacteristic of her, but she seems to take my wellbeing very seriously, judging by the genuinely troubled expression on her face. I must look awful. I can feel my hair matted against my forehead, which is probably sufficient evidence to back up that claim.

"Th-Thanks, Emi. I ju— uh, I'm not doing so hot right now. I think I will go see the Nurse. Thank you for understanding. I'll try to at least jog over to his office so that I can say I got some exercise in," I answer apologetically.

Before she can even respond I'm already jogging away in the opposite direction. I don't actually want the exercise; this is just an excuse to flee this horribly awkward encounter as fast my legs will let me.

I manage to get quite far before I hear Emi's now distant voice shouting back at me—

"HISAO, YOU FORGOT YOUR WATER BOTTLE!"

"IT'S ALRIGHT! YOU CAN KEEP IT!"

"WELL, FEEL BETTER! OKAY?!"

"YOU TOO!" You too? What is wrong with me?

"MAYBE I'LL SEE YOU AT THE FESTIVAL TOMORROW?!"

My mouth seemingly can't choose between 'yeah,' 'nah,' or a more casual, laid-back 'eh' in response. So instead, I end up screaming a strange combination of the three.

"NAHYEUGH!"

I turn the corner, leaving my brief spell of mental retardation behind me and the track out of sight. There's nobody else around, so I take this opportunity to empty my stomach into a nearby garbage bin before slumping down against the wall adjacent to it. My heart is racing and stumbling all over itself. I instinctively close my eyes and grab at my chest with my right hand. I've learned that the best thing to do in these situations is to try and remain calm and focus on my breathing. Like being pregnant, but instead of trying to birth a life, I'm trying to stay alive.

After a moment or two, the sharp pangs of pain in my chest slowly start to subside and the prickly needlelike sensation in my left arm goes away.

Once my heart rate evens out and I calm down physically, my brain picks up the slack on causing me pain and my mind begins racing once more with concerns pertaining to the festival tomorrow. I should worry while I walk though. Places to go, people to see and all that. Using the wall for support, I pick myself up, dust myself off and reluctantly commence my march over to the Nurse's office.

As I'm walking over to meet with the Nurse, I realize that if he were to see me in this state, he might chastise me for not taking better care of myself.

Seeing as I'm early for my appointment anyway, I decide to dip back into the boys' dormitory to regain my composure first. More students are awake and going about their business now. As I'm hurriedly walking through the halls on my way to the common room, I occasionally brush shoulders with some of the dozens of nameless faces travelling alongside me. I think at one point somebody had called my name out, but I don't know if I imagined that or not.

It's all too much.

I'm going to see all of these people countless times throughout the duration of my stay here, yet I'll only end up speaking with a small selection of them. The rest will forever remain extras in the unfortunate story of my life. What if one of them is supposed to be something more to me? What if I'm associating with the wrong people? What if one of these spectres wandering around in my peripheral vision could be a kindred spirit to me and I don't know it? How are you supposed to know who you're meant to be friends with?

I finally make it to the common room and immediately start boiling some water so that I can prepare myself a cup of coffee. They only have the instant stuff here, but it's better than nothing. It'll at least taste better than the lingering taste of puke in my mouth from before. Slightly.

I'm a bit too eager and almost chug the entire thing in one go, burning my tongue and throat in the process. The pain is jarring enough to make me break out into a coughing fit, earning some concerned stares from several boys across the room.

I attempt to wave it off nonchalantly while I pour myself another cup. Two cups of coffee already, and I don't intend for it to be my last today. Granted, it likely isn't very wise to consume this much caffeine given my condition. Every drop that slides down my gullet is probably shaving days off of my lifespan. That being said, it's helping me keep my nervousness in check, so it's a compromise I'm willing to make at the moment. Still, I should try not to make a habit of it.

Feeling considerably more relaxed, I head back out and resume my trip to the Nurse's office.

Five minutes pass before I find myself in front of his door. I take a second to clear my head before knocking.

"Come on in!" a muffled voice says from the other side.

I go inside the room and close the door behind me. The purple-haired man in front of me had been sitting at his desk with his legs crossed, but he spins around in his swivel chair to face me once he hears me enter.

I dislike doctors, but something about the Nurse is different. The goofy smile on his face is the polar opposite of the stern expressions I've come to associate with medical staff. He's just an all-around amiable, sincere person, even though he can get irritating with the never-ending jokes at my expense. It's his way of lightening the mood though, and I do appreciate the effort.

It's a good skill to have when you're dealing with the impaired and dying. Tough crowd, I imagine.

"Why hello, Hisao. How are we doing today?" he asks, grinning his usual grin.

"Ah, you know, surviving," I respond, trying to reciprocate with a smile of my own.

"I should hope so. Anyway, you know the drill. Shirt off, if you would."

I oblige and toss my shirt onto an empty chair to my right.

He eyes my scar momentarily. A jagged, dark crimson gash in the middle of my chest from when they had to open me up for my emergency surgery following my attack. I've been told that it will fade with time, but never entirely. A grim reminder of my feeble state. It still itches now and then.

He rubs the end of his stethoscope between his hands to warm it up and gets to work, holding it against my chest and my back, listening intently for any irregularities. Unluckily for me, I can see his trademark smile falter.

"Are you sure you've been doing alright, Hisao? Has Emi been pushing you too much? You need to be completely honest with me if you expect me to help," he says scoldingly.

"It's not anything like that, sir. I've just… been a bit stressed out is all."

He wags his finger at me. "That simply won't do. You need to be wary of your stress levels. It's the biggest contributing factor to heart complications these days."

He's told me this before, and I found it just as frustrating then as I do now. Where does he get off ordering me to stop being stressed, as if I actively choose to be? If anything, it just makes me even more anxious because I start stressing out about stressing out. It's a vicious circle that's impossible to escape from, and he's offered me no solution.

I think he senses my change in mood and his face softens once more.

"Look, I know this is all still new to you. I know how trying these kinds of circumstances can be. Just do your best, alright? It's all any of us can do. Whenever things start getting to you, just focus on your breathing like we spoke about the other day."

I nod solemnly. The breathing did help with my incident earlier at the track.

He sighs and reclines back into his chair, kicking his feet up on his desk. "You do look tired though. Have you eaten yet today? Breakfast is the most important meal, after all."

"I wasn't really hungry, but I had an apple before I left this morning." I feel kind of bad for being such a downer, so I try to continue on with a joke of my own. I think he'd appreciate that. "I was told having an apple a day might keep you away from me, but here we are"

He does indeed visibly brighten at this. I'm glad. "Oh, it will take more than an apple to get rid of me. You're going to want something more substantial, like a restraining order, or a bullet." He chuckles lightly. "Seriously though, please keep your diet in mind. A handsome young man such as yourself needs all the energy he can get," he says, winking at me.

" 'Handsome'? Isn't that an inappropriate thing to say to a student?"

"Don't get any funny ideas, Nakai. You're not my type," he pauses, "Besides, I could never steal you away from Mutou. I see the way he looks at you. It would be wrong to encroach on my colleague's territory like that."

Oh god, not this again. "Please don't," I plead in vain.

"I wish I could get a woman to look at me the way your science teacher looks at you, Hisao."

"That's quite enough, sir."

"He talks about you, you know. In his free time. Off the clock. It makes me very uncomfortable, but it's not my place to interfere with true love"

"What have I done to you to deserve this?"

"You should take things slower with him than you have with me though. I've only known you a few days and I already got your shirt off. Makes you seem easy, y'know?"

Cracking a joke at him was a mistake. Once he gets rolling he can't stop himself. He's relentless.

"This is all very unprofessional, sir."

At this, his voice raises several octaves, into an almost girlish squeak, "But, sir, am I not your model student? Why could you possibly want to see little old me after class?" Now his voice shifts into a disturbingly accurate impression of Mutou, "Your grades are stellar, Nakai, but you've been a very, very bad boy and you need to be puni—"

I really don't want to hear the rest of this bit so I plug my ears with my index fingers and turn to leave the room.

As I take one finger out to twist the doorknob and make my escape I hear a crisp crunching sound and turn around to investigate.

The nurse has produced an apple from somewhere and has taken a large bite out of it. His other hand is outstretched toward me, holding a piece of paper. I take it from him and inspect it. After quickly scanning the rectangular slip I'm shocked to see that it's a note excusing me from my classes for the day. I look back up at him, one eyebrow raised.

"You need the rest, kiddo. Doctor's orders. Besides, it's the least I can do to pay you back for entertaining me," he states as he winks once more.

A wave of gratitude washes over me and I breathe a sigh of relief. I thank him profusely and we say our goodbyes. This is exactly what I needed. If I can just get a few hours of privacy to think things over I may be able to salvage my plans for the festival tomorrow.

However, the exchange I had to endure to get the time off was still mortifying. I won't be able to look Mutou in the eyes for a while.

If the Nurse is impervious to apples maybe I should try oranges next.

First period has already started, so I don't need to worry about playing bumper cripples on the way back to my room like I normally do. I swear, you'd figure that in a school for the disabled, people would be more mindful of personal space. I already have several bruises on my shins from the occasional stray cane or wheelchair. Not to mention that one time Emi nearly made my chest explode after accidentally tackling me to the ground like an adorable little offensive lineman.

Much to my surprise, even though class is already in session, I can hear footsteps echoing from around the corner. A teacher maybe? As I make the turn to proceed on my way to the dormitories I'm shocked by whom the sounds belonged to, and she seems appears equally surprised to see me.

Violet eyes, matching her dark purple hair which helps to hide the severe burn scars on the right side of her face. She's wearing an expression one might expect from a person being sentenced to death by firing squad. It's hard to mistake Hanako Ikezawa for anybody else.

Now that I think of it, it isn't really that strange to find her out here, seeing as she is almost always late to class. I've never caught her in the act before though. I'm not sure how to proceed; I don't want to scare her off.

She's a very sweet girl from what I can tell, but one small misstep with her and she runs away so fast she may as well be able to teleport. If someone were to spook her while she was on the track, she might even be able to beat Emi's personal records.

I'll just keep this simple for her sake, a fast greeting and then I'll be on my way.

"Good morning Hanako," I say, giving her a slight wave.

"G-Good m-morning, Hisao," she responds through her usual stammer, though her face suggests that she's unsure why I'm not in class.

The fact that she audibly responded at all was more than I had expected of her. Despite seeing her at lunch every day, we haven't spoken much. On my first day here, I had decided to check out the school library, and wound up sitting next to her as I flipped through a small novel I had picked up. Even then, we nearly sat in total silence except for a few pleasantries.

I tried to spark up more of a casual chat and she ended up sprinting away from me in response. Needless to say, I learned my lesson and it seems to have paid off, seeing as she isn't trying to run away from me right now.

Maybe if I continue to speak to her in brief sentences I can gradually ease her into more regular conversations. She seems to be most relaxed when we play the occasional game of chess during lunch, that would probably be the best time to try it out. That can wait until after the festival though. Hanako is the only one I'm pretty certain doesn't want to hang out with me tomorrow. I doubt she'll be at the festival at all, honestly.

One day I'd like to understand her. I don't know the details, but I can easily assume Hanako's past is far more traumatic than my own. Even so, in an odd way I feel like I can relate to her. Hanako might be the only one I know who is more troubled mentally than I am right now. It may be messed up to think so, but it's nice to know that I'm not the only one struggling. Misery likes company I suppose.

I give her a short nod farewell as I pass by her. I can feel my room beckoning me. The Nurse and Hanako were nice distractions, but I need to figure out what I'm going to do tomorrow.

If I don't come up with a plan I may go from having too many friends, to having no friends at all.

My eyes rapidly move along the page. I'm reading the words, but I'm not really taking them in. I can't even really recall what happened the past few chapters. Books had helped me a lot during my stay at the hospital following my surgery. They kept me distracted and broke up the monotony of lying in my bed all day.

It's not helping now though, and that really sucks. You know you're in a bad way when your most treasured hobby does nothing to comfort you. I may as well give up on reading for tonight. I'm not giving this novel the attention it deserves.

I shut the book closed in frustration before hopping off of my bed and walking over to my desk. After storing the book away in the drawer, my eyes are drawn to the only other contents inside. A picture frame, containing a photo of myself and my parents at the beach from two years ago. I had stuffed the picture in my desk because seeing my bare chest with no unsightly scar on it was pretty depressing.

The memories of that day help lift my spirits a bit, and I feel myself smiling. It wasn't often that we all got to do something together. Both of my parents are very career oriented and never spent too much time at home. I was mostly left to fend for myself growing up, but it wasn't for lack of trying on my parents' parts. They tried their hardest to be there for me whenever they could; they just couldn't most of the time is all. I don't hold it against them, even though it did get lonely sometimes.

My father gave me this photo the day I was dropped off at Yamaku. He got a little glassy-eyed when he handed it over, he always was a softy. The good cop to my mom's bad cop.

I take the photo out of its frame and flip it around in order to look at the backside. My father had written down both his and my mother's cell phone numbers, in addition to an email address that they both share. I think they made it just so we could exchange messages while I'm away from home. A kind gesture, probably his idea.

For a moment I seriously consider taking them up on the offer and calling one of them. If there's anyone that could help me figure out a solution to my predicament it would be them.

I can't do that to them though. I can tell that they're already worried about me as is. I'm on thin ice from a physical standpoint, if they heard what an emotional wreck I am as well they would freak out.

For some reason, as dozens of thoughts bounce around my brain, the image my mind stops on is Lilly Satou.

Lilly is a fascinating person. From what I can tell, she's Hanako's only friend here. Doesn't take a genius to see why, if I was a burn victim I would naturally gravitate to a blind person as well. That's the thing though, I feel like even if Lilly could see, she and Hanako might still be pals. Lilly has an unfaltering air of kindness about her, I doubt Hanako's scars would do much to deter her.

I don't know why I'm thinking about her now though. She can't exactly help me when she's a part of the issue.

Not that I would be opposed to spending the day of the festival with her, she's very pretty after all. Really tall for a woman, with fair skin and wavy blonde hair. Her clouded blue eyes serve as the only physical indicator of her condition. Her half-Scottish genes do a lot to set her apart from the crowd around here, as does her more modest fashion sense. She pulls her hair back into a ponytail with a large black ribbon, and her skirts go far below her knees. I've also noticed that she wears a cross around her neck.

Lilly had been raised Christian, I guess. Imagining her praying at her bedside is pretty amusing. For the most part, people in Japan aren't religious, myself included, but there are shrines here and there. Most people visit them due to tradition though, not so much for spiritual reasons. I guess Christians don't need shrines to pray though; they can just do that whenever they need to.

Hmm. Maybe I…

…No, I'm not doing that. That's ridiculous. I'm a man of science and I know better than to waste my time with such things.

Then again, scientific method states that I need to test my theory before I can prove it. There's no harm in giving it one try, I have nothing to lose. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Besides, nobody will ever know I tried this nonsense.

I don't know how you're supposed to do it though; I've only ever seen this done in foreign movies. I start by kneeling down and resting my elbows on my bed, clasping my hands in front of me and closing my eyes shut.

I feel ridiculous. Whatever, I've already gone this far so I may as well follow through.

"Uh, hello?" Good start, I would hope if there is a god that he wouldn't mind my social awkwardness.

"I need some help. Is it a problem that I'm Japanese? Is this just a white person thing? I'm friends with Lilly, if you take referrals. I just… I have nobody to speak with, so I was hoping that you could be of some assistance. Plus, you kind of owe me one for the whole heart thing.

"Obviously you won't answer back. That's your gimmick or whatever, I know. I just need some form of guidance. Send a wise man my way or something. That's part of the story, right? I just need someone to bounce some ideas off of, spitball some ways to dig myself out of this hole that I'm in. You know, like an impartial third party. Someone with experience in these matters. Someone smart. Someone who knows how to deal with peopl—"

My last-ditch plea to thin air is cut short as a loud banging sound emanates from the door of my room. You've got to be kidding me, this can't be right. I nervously inch my way over, knees threatening to buckle beneath me. My hand grips the doorknob tightly, knuckles turning white from the pressure. I'm scared to open the door. I never thought my beliefs on religion would be disproven so blatantly. I begin to question everything I had come to accept about the univer—

BANG.

In the middle of my epiphany, the door flies open and cracks against my skull. My vision goes blurry and I reel back in pain. I take a second to check whether or not my heart is fine, and it is, but damn does my forehead hurt. I shake my head from side to side in an attempt to focus my eyes so that I can get a good look at my saviour.

That's when a strong waft of garlic and aged milk hits my nostrils.

"Hey man, I heard you talking to someone in here and wanted to make sure you weren't being robbed," greets my bespectacled assailant.

Okay, now I definitely don't believe in God. No higher power would do this to me. Welcome back atheism, I missed you.

"You really need to learn to lock your door, man. If you don't, any nutjob could just barge in willy-nilly," he warns me, tossing his red-and-yellow striped scarf back over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I can see that!" I exclaim, unable to hide the anger in my voice.

He looks a bit hurt with the tone I've taken with him. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright, bro. No need to get your ovaries in a twist. Besides, home security is no joke. What if it wasn't me? What if I was some broad here to murder you or steal your socks or something?"

"Well, if they try my door and see that it's open, they'll figure that there isn't anything worthwhile inside. Meanwhile, they try out your door afterwards and notice that there's like twelve locks on it. They'll be far more interested in your room and you'll be the one having your socks murdered or whatever." I've found that if I play along and double down on Kenji's insane ramblings when responding to him, it makes him shut up most of the time. Fight fire with fire.

Even through his thick, round glasses I can see his eyes shoot wide open and his jaw drops.

"Oh shit. You're right, I don't know what I was thinking." He sighs, resting his forehead against his palm. "You're a lifesaver, Hisao. As soon as I get back to my room I'm going to remove ALL of the locks. I'm also going to sleep with the door wide open from now on. I'll be the least suspect person here. Totally incognito."

That's a horrible idea, but I don't dare continue this conversation. I walk back a few steps and sit on the edge of my bed.

That's when an idea hits me. I'll never get any worthwhile advice out of Kenji if I ask him which girl I should make plans with at the festival, but maybe if I were to speak his language…

"Hey, Kenji, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, dude. Anytime."

"Hypothetically, let's say this war that you're worried about finally breaks out. You're in a sniper's nest, rifle in hand when you spot six enemies on the horizon. They're all equally dangerous to you. In that situation how do you pick which one to shoot?" I inquire, hoping he doesn't catch onto the real meaning of this scenario.

"Huh? Isn't it obvious?"

I wish it was, Kenji. "No, that's why I'm asking."

"You just shoot the first one you see," he declares, pointing his index finger at me, miming his finger pulling a trigger.

I lean back on my elbows to consider his response. It actually does make a lot of sense. I haven't confirmed with any of the girls that I'd be going with them to the festival tomorrow. I could just go alone and walk around until I run into one of them; the first one that I spot would be the one I approach. I would be completely blameless. All of the burden of choosing is taken off my shoulders and left up to fate instead. It's perfect.

Kenji would be a genius if he wasn't so stupid.

In an effort to show my gratitude I give him a firm clap on the shoulder and smile at him. "Thank you, Kenji. You've actually been a great help."

"Oh. Uh, I don't really understand, but I'm glad, man," he responds, returning the gesture with an even harder clap on my shoulder.

He really isn't so bad. I hate to admit it, but I kind of like the guy, despite his eccentricities. Maybe I should ask him if he wants to do something after the festival tomorrow. What's the worst that could happen?

"Say, after all the excitement dies down tomorrow, do you want to hang out for a little while and wind down?"

"Excitement? What excitement?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow at me.

"The festival? Don't you need to be there for your class's booth—"

"THE FESTIVAL IS TOMORROW?! WHY DIDN'T YOU WARN ME SOONER?! I NEED TO GO PREP MY FORTIFICATIONS!"

"Wha—"

"NO TIME! I'LL SEE YOU MONDAY!"

Before I can protest, he spins on his heels and dives forward, somersaulting to my open doorway. He sticks his head around the edge and looks down both ends of the hall before turning his head and shooting one last quick nod to me. I give him a confused, halfhearted wave in response and he dashes out of sight.

I can hear his clumsy footsteps thundering down the hall, but they're punctuated by an abrupt, echoing thud and a high-pitched, ear-piercing shriek of pain. He must have run into a first-year girl or something. I don't know what a girl would be doing in the boys' dorm this late at night though. I'd better go check to see if she's okay.

I exit my room and I'm embarrassed to discover that the wailing was, in fact, coming from Kenji himself, who had tripped and fallen down in his rush to escape to his room. If he screamed any higher, only dogs would be able to hear him. I try not to judge though; very few people have flattering screams of agony.

I make my way over to pick him up and help him back to his room, it's the least I could do in return for his shockingly sage advice. For the first time since coming to Yamaku I have something to look forward to.

Maybe tomorrow will actually end up being fun.

Author's Notes: Huge thank you to SLotH4 for reading through the story and editing spelling and grammar. Make sure to check him out!