Chapter Thirty.

It will really freak you out if your normal friend suddenly becomes an otaku.

It is ten in the morning of a perfect Sunday. The sun has already risen high in the sky while floating clouds cover the people below from the scorching heat. The cousins are running around in an old tennis court and chasing a tiny green ball underneath the clear blue sky.

Sadaharu struts towards a ball flying over his court. Calm and calculating, he already knows in which direction the ball is likely to bounce. His hand tightens its grip on the racket. He swings the racket to hit the ball before it falls on the ground towards the other side of the court. And he flawlessly does it so.

She watches to which direction it will go. "Right!" Yume runs forward to her right. She stops a few inches from the line where she expected the ball should bounce. She prepares to swing her racket as the ball indeed falls onto the spot. The ball, however, does not bounce; it simply rolls to the back of the court. Her mouth opens out of surprise as she raises a brow. "Woah. That's just…"

He smirks upon seeing the face of his opponent. The dataman adjusts his glasses.

Yume grunts. "You know, Sadaharu-kun…" She looks at him. "… you should teach me how to do these kinds of tricks. Like, how did that even happen?" She glances again at the ball behind the court. "Just how many years did you train to be able to do that?" She laughs.

He wipes the sweat on his face with a towel hanging over his neck. "All this training started since I was in elementary school."

"Right, right." She nods. "And I was just playing around back then." Yume chuckles.

"You never took any of our games seriously," he comments.

"And there's a lot more training in middle school." Sadaharu looks at the weights around her wrists. "For now, Yume-chan, those should be the basics you can start with."

She sighs. "It's not like I'm really planning to be a pro like you," she mutters to herself. Yume raises her arms and shows the weights on her wrists. "These are heavy by the way. They're really restrictive on my speed."

"A necessary part of the training. We're trying to build up your power."

"As I said, it's not like I really want to be a pro. I just want to be better." Yume scratches at the back of her head.

Sadaharu is wearing a plain white shirt and a pair of gray jogging pants. He still has not changed much since the previous year after graduating from middle school, except that his hair has gotten thicker. He obviously has not yet visited the barber to have his hair cut. "Your speed is actually not that bad; it is something that we can build on until you find your play style. For now, we can train your wrists." He glances at her small hands. "And, you also have to train your grips. Your weak grip makes it easy for the racket to slip off your hands when you handle a fast and heavy ball." He walks towards the bench and grabs his notebook.

Yume approaches the bench as well. She picks up her water bottle. "Why are you so determined to give me this tennis training?" She drinks.

"I was born to train people."

She wipes her mouth as she raises a brow at her cousin. "Yeah, right. That barely answers my question."

"Having sports is really helpful to keep the body fit and healthy." He scribbles down something on his notebook. His eyes do not even turn to look at her. They are immersed in his notes. "And from how Yamazaki-san has been describing your lifestyle for the past years, it seems really necessary for you to do physical activities instead of simply staying at home."

"Geez." Yume pouts. She stares at her cousin's thick glasses. She has never gotten to see how he looks like without those glasses. "A few years not seeing my cousin, the first decent conversation I would have with him is how he'd scold me about my sedentary life."

"Health is important."

She laughs. "Right."

Sadaharu takes something from his bag. "How 'bout another round…" He holds weights on both of his hands. "…with these on your ankles?"

Her eyes twitch. "Is this how you trained poor Kaoru-kun?"

He grins. "This is how I trained myself and the whole Seigaku team." His hand takes out of nowhere a glass of some substance which emanates a dark aura. "And this, too."

Yume frowns upon seeing the glass. "Eww. What is that, Sadaharu-kun? It looks gross."

"You should try it. It's really good for your health."

"But it might be bad for my stomach. So, no, thanks." She takes one step back. "I don't think I would need that."

"If you win the round, you can skip the drink. But…" His glasses glimmer. "… if you lose, you'd have to finish this glass."

"H-hey, Inui-senpai!" A young, tall man wearing a green bandana immediately runs towards their direction. Kaidou Kaoru is well aware of what monstrosity of a drink Sadaharu forces people to drink. He has been in such a situation, after all, and has suffered the side effects of every drink. He stretches an arm to halt the lurking danger from the poor girl. Unfortunately, a rock on the ground trips Kaidou over. His outstretched arm accidentally pushes Sadaharu forward. As Yume gasps out of shock, her mouth has been left open to the hazards of the juice made by her cousin. Sadaharu bumps to her and the glass containing the green substance has been emptied to her mouth.

A loud thud has come to their accidental fall to the ground.

She gulps the juice inside her mouth.

Sadaharu looks at his cousin with shock on his face. "I-I'm sorry. I was just joking, Yume-chan."


Monday. The mood inside the classroom is extraordinarily gloomy. Not that people really get excited on Monday mornings, but the atmosphere of the day is outright dead and gray. The equations on the board are just too much to digest within less an hour.

The teacher has been constantly mumbling all throughout the period. Students usually make fun of him for looking like a 'zombie' due to his eyes that seem sunken, dark, and terribly tired. His manner of speech does not even help to improve his image. Overall, he is like a lifeless skeleton who has risen from his own grave. Just like how his students are as of the moment.

Sengoku blows at the strands of hair that fall on his forehead. It is simply difficult to keep himself entertained when his seatmate is not even present to be bothered. Unlike the orange-haired boy, Yume is usually up and awake in the morning even without distractions. She always has her notebook out on her desk and she writes every equations that the teacher would write on the board. She is the responsible one, after all. Quite unfortunately for her, Sengoku is her seatmate. The orange-haired boy would usually chat and distract her from the lesson.

But, she is not there.

He taps the pencil on the top of an empty page on his open notebook. Sengoku glances over at the empty seat beside him. Only a bag sits there; the top of the desk is empty clean. Yume arrived that morning on her usual time of arrival, but only to rush to the infirmary. Her stomach has been upset since the previous day. It is something that her cousin made that she accidentally consumed but her stomach simply cannot digest. And there is only one other way that the body can release the foreign entity if not through perfectly normal digestion.

He feels odd that the seat is empty and he can see through the window beside Yume's seat. Sengoku stares outside the window. There are white fluffy clouds floating in the blue sky, covering the sun. On the other portion of the sky far from the sun are a few feather clouds. It is a clear day. This is a good weather for tennis.

He can already imagine the smell of sweat under the heat of the sun and the chase for that green ball around the court. Sengoku could have been outside playing tennis, maybe honing his skills. Yet he is inside the classroom, forced to sit and listen through the teacher's long and excruciating speech which bores him. He could have simply skipped the class, but he wants to help Yume catch up to the lesson by staying through the period and hopefully discuss the things he is able to pick up from the lesson.

The boy lets out another sigh. Is there someone out there who could be wanting to play tennis as well just like him? Probably some other tennis players he played with during middle school? Someone who may also be bored in class?

Sengoku blinks upon an idea. Is there a way to connect with someone else through the mind? Just like connecting with people on the internet, but using the mind? Telepathy? Maybe he could challenge tennis matches against someone else that way? But, the question is 'how?'

Sengoku snickers. 'What a ridiculous idea.'


'I'm bored. This is boring.' A yawn escapes from his mouth. His elbow rests on top of his desk while his chin rests on his palm. History - his sworn enemy ever since middle school. While the teacher continues on and on discussing something about the political climate of Japan during the Edo era, he can only think about the previous episode of an animation series that he is religiously watching - Eighth Star. He glides his pen across a page of his notebook, thoughtlessly doodling a name. He sighs.

The blanket of the light hue of blue in the sky outside is quite inviting just for this day. He owns the seat farthest from the window and he has never complained about it since the classes started. After all, his eyes have gotten used to shying away from the lightest and brightest parts of the room he goes to. The boy stares outside the open window, watching the clouds fleetingly move around. He can almost smell and feel the fresh breeze touch his skin. He remembers how he used to play outside like a child, run around without thinking and being troubled by anything. But now, the sticky feeling of sweat, the scorching heat in the morning, and the pumping adrenaline flowing through his veins seem like a distant memory to him.

He just feels pathetic. Only months ago, he was foolish but he was a free spirit. He was someone who knows nothing else but the heart-pumping feeling of speed. He remembers how he ran one Sunday morning when he was five. The cold air was lightly brushing against his cheeks. His feet were taking him to places he did not even know. His whole body was heating up as the blood rushed through his veins. It was excitement. It was the adrenaline. It was speed. And it was his moment of peace. He realized then how much he loved that kind of feeling.

"Oshitari-san."

But a lot has changed. He does not run anymore nor play sports. If anything, he may have even started to dislike staying out in the sun now. His relatives are already starting to call him anti-social or socially impaired, but he knows in himself that he is anything but those. Talking to people simply just started to feel like a burden to him.

"Oshitari-san?"

His pen continues to scribble things on his notebook. He now even hates how his hair looks like. He should not have bleached his hair. The boy now has to trim the bleached parts every week until his hair becomes black in all direction. Good thing his hair also grows quickly. Nevertheless, he has to live with his hair for now - solid black on top half and bleached on the lower half.

"Oshitari-san!"

The boy almost fell from his chair after the teacher has called him out.

"Thinking about your anime stuff again, are you?"

Kenya stands up from his seat and bows down as an apology. "I-I'm really sorry, Mikata-chan-sensei."

A crease appears in the middle of the teacher's eyebrows. "Mikata-chan-sensei?" she mutters.

"Isn't that 'Eighth Star'?" a student whispers distinctly.

The teacher massages her forehead in a circular motion. "You really are thinking about anime, aren't you?"

The whole class laughs. He weakly smiles out of humiliation.

'Yep. It's official. I am now officially the class loser.'

A few more minutes after his little incident, the bell finally rings for the recess break. Kenya has been waiting for the whole class to end. He has been very uncomfortable since the beginning; he is longing to be home.

"Okay!" The teacher claps her hands and begins to pack her things up. "Class is over. Please do not forget to submit your projects tomorrow," she announces.

Upon the teacher's departure, the students have begun freely chatting with each other, eating and doing things as they please. The noises and laughter ring inside his head; they annoy him. Nobody tries to approach him and he does not let anyone go near him. He is far from the mood to chit-chat. Kenya immediately leaves the classroom and walks through the crowd along the hallway. He heads to the stairs going up and walks straight into the only hallway where no one passes through as much.

The science laboratory is his sanctuary in the whole campus. Kenya enters the room. It is dark and full of dust. No one really uses the old laboratory after a new one has been built two floors below. Even clubs refuse to use the room due to rumors of a haunting, but he knows it is not true. So far, the boy has not yet experienced any hauntings at least. The rumors were probably made by students who does not have anything else to tell to their friends.

Kenya sits on top of a table and takes out his phone. He watches an episode of Eighth Star – the one that previously aired the day before. He wants to hear her voice again.

"… The dove flies, seeking for the freedom it didn't have …"

A girl's voice fills the air. It soothes his ears. He closes his eyes. She is singing a tune of sorrow before a war.

"… arm him with the words and courage he needs. Await the moment he strikes back…"

His heart pounds. "… until the world realizes its mistakes… repent and continue to fight…" he sings along.

"… blood will continue to shed until we win this war. Earn the freedom dedicated to our future…"

"… but never forget who has always been there for you…"

"… remember the friends and family you'll be fighting for…"

A teardrop falls down from the corner of his eye. "And I love you," he whispers, "… I miss you." Kenya sniffs. He opens his eyes and stares blankly at the moving pictures on his phone. He wipes his eyes with the hemline of his uniform shirt. 'Take a deep breath,' he says to himself.

The door suddenly slides open. Silhouette of four men appear on the doorway. Kenya lifts a hand against the light to cover his eyes from the overwhelming brightness coming from the outside.

"What the-" There should have been no other people around. Kenya is surprised to see people actually come inside the old room.

"Kenya-kyun~" Koharu enters the room, skipping towards the boy. "I knew it! You're here!"

The others follow. "Hey, Kenya." "Oi!" "How are you, Kenya-han?"

"Commander, the enemy's shuttle is approaching and has opened fire."

"Tsk. I know… but we cannot be defeated here. Not until I am here."

Hitouji blinks. The sound is coming from Kenya's phone. "I-is that… Eighth Star?"

Someone flips the switch of the lights. And everything becomes much clearer.

Kenya sits on top of a dusty table in the middle of the old science laboratory room. He is teary-eyed. Surrounding him are volumes of his manga collection, varying from the recently animated action series Eighth Star to romantic comedy To Love Yu. He has been spending the first weeks of the school year hanging out alone inside the empty room. No wonder that the his friends have not yet seen him for a while. On a separate table across are figurines, plushies of anime characters. A poster of Yuu Mikata from the Eighth Star hangs on the wall.

His friends have become overwhelmed.

Kenya clears his throat. "A-are you guys… planning to join my club?" he says in a meek voice.

"Your… club…?"

~End Chapter~