"Oh, I do enjoy this piece, Kazuma. Very much."

I looked back behind me and chuckled. "You're very kind, sir, but it's still not quite ready yet."

Mr. Nobusuke Tagomi, my elderly art teacher with thick reading glasses, graying hair combed over his scalp and warm but weary eyes, smiled as he approached my canvas. There were about twenty other students in his classroom, spread out in a half circle around the center blackboards at the front of the room. There were various posters of famous artisans, Picasso and Frida Kahlo and Banksy, adorning the walls mixed with student works of years past sitting on the wide-framed bookshelves. It's Friday, the second to last class of the day, and you could feel the loose energy in the air, students with their ties undone or blazers hanging off their seats. Everyone was ready to go home to what looked like a great weekend; sunny blue skies with drizzle in the morning and lots of breeze. The rectangular skinny windows that looked out towards the Yamaku parking lots were opened up, letting the cool spring air blow through past the drying racks. A small record-player, a wood-furnished antique, played soothing harpsichord music from his desk. It was serene, and the perfect mood for creativity.

Our assignment's topic was "Life in the Face of Death''. We had blank canvases, we had plenty of paint and brushes but the guidelines were open-ended. Mr. Tagomi was big on expression without restriction, creativity without limitations…or as he would say it, 'to allow your hands to stroke the brush and your soul to do the rest'. There were plenty of interpretations to the assignment; some students painted crypts and graveyards, others painted forests and crashing waves against a sandcastle. I opted for a more abstract design, based on the skeletal remains of the Genbaku Dome in Hiroshima. The former art exhibition hall was one of the only solid-built structures to survive the atomic bombing of the city in 1945, and has since become an international symbol of peace and resillience in the wake of such unspeakable destruction. My portrait was sketched like you were standing at the base of the dome looking up at the sky and towards the cityscape, swallowed in a sea of black-blood-orange nuclear overcast. The entire canvas was consumed by flames and destruction, but the gleaming, easily-recognizable silver frame of the building glowed through the infernos, a radiating beacon of light. It wasn't the most original idea in the world, but I was satisfied with how it looked. And I'm already passing this class, so.

Mr. Tagomi patted me on the shoulder. "I think it's perfect." He leaned forward and pointed, running his finger just above the edges of the dome. "You did well in coloring the outlines and keeping them clean, although perhaps more detailing could be done with the surroundings. The broken window frames, trails of smoke from the fire, et cetera."

So not perfect, then. "Thank you, sir. I will continue to improve on it."

He smiled and continued on, inspecting other students' works. The fan near my desk whirred in my direction, blowing my hair back slightly. I dabbed my brush into a glob of steely-blue paint and began to outline the edge of the waterfront, brushing it slightly.

As I painted, my mind wandered to Natsuki.

Dinner last night went…about as well as I could've hoped. I was pretty surprised with just how good everything tasted, the broth alone could've been a meal. Mom and Dad were in a particularly good mood, with Dad telling me this story about stealing gas out of his old boss's car and telling other old war stories of his. The conversation slowly turned to plans for tomorrow's special occasion, a small family gathering to celebrate my parents' wedding anniversary. It was going to be a private but lively get-together (Odaka parties are known to get wild once they start serving alcohol). It wasn't going to be a big big bash, but just my local family; grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins and other close friends of the family, having cake and drinks and dancing at an event venue my grandparents rented further in-town, more close to Yamaku. Mom and Dad have hosted plenty of parties before, but they have always been one to be sticklers for the details. They're always the ones organizing the family get-togethers and Christmas parties and birthdays and…ugh, they hate it when things go wrong, and they love it when things go absolutely perfect. Everything down to the nit must be picked. I had my tux waiting at the laundry, which I had almost forgotten I needed to pick up after school. Less than a two minute drive from Yamaku, anyway.

It was the sort of event Natsuki should be attending with me. If things went well at the dinner, the idea was to let them know we had been dating for quite some time and ask if I could invite her to the party. That would be the start of a new era for us, being public, me dressed to the nines and Nats glowing under the crystalline lights as we danced the night away.

"hEY I G"

But that text was from last night, and now it's nearly the end of the next day and I still haven't heard back from her.

I texted her this morning by sending her a meme and saying I hope she slept well. No reply. Just before lunch I texted her again asking if we were gonna eat lunch together; we usually meet up outside the library before we go into the cafeteria, but she never showed up. The entire time her profile has been offline, last active yesterday. I don't think we really go more than a couple of hours without hearing from each other, one way or another, and even then we know we're both on the same campus all day. As far as I knew she wasn't here, but I didn't make it a point to check on one of her classes (she knew mine, too).

I got from my chair and walked to the sink, rinsing the brushes clean.

Here I go worrying about nothing again. Although, am I really one to talk? I said the same thing about Sayori, oh so long ago, and she almost died as a result. Because of my action, rather, lack of action. Dismissing my concerns about her, assuming everything was fine when it really wasn't. And look where it got me, ripping down my best friend from a noose and bawling in the ambulance with her father. Look where it got her, the recovery and the hair falling out and the medication her parents were absolutely insistent she take everyday (but with the passage of time and their everyday constant paranoia cooling, they have been more lenient in letting Sayori decide for herself when she needs to take it). Frankly, I really don't know why I'm stressing about this. I have nothing to base my worry off of. She could've had a family emergency, or had something else going on. Her phone could be dead, or it could've broken last night. Maybe she was out getting a replacement. Or something.

I walked back to my spot and sat down.

But I know those bruises she got weren't from walking into a car–

"Yo. Kazuma."

Toji, one of my long-time friends, looked over at me. His face was splattered with specks of blue and gray paint, but miraculously his uniform was clean. He was more muscular and a little taller than me (not to say I'm in bad shape of course), with dirty brown-blondish hair, a sharp jawline and veiny hands from lifting weights. He was also the vice president of the anime club, a club he had been nudging to get me to join after the Festival and their horde of new members. His blazer hung over his chair and his tie was loose and flipped over his shoulder. His canvas was interesting, a majestic sprawling canyon of puffy white clouds against a rich blue sky. In the near center, was the sketch for an outline of a person, floating beyond it all. It was quite beautiful, but ever since our primary years I knew Toji to be a man of the finer arts, always drawing and reading about classical painters and coming up with his own tattoo designs and stuff in his sketchbook. Back in our primary years, he and Sayori loved to break into the watercolors and paint these huge messy drawings on giant spreads of paper before the teacher caught them. I, being the goody two-shoes, would help the teacher clean up.

"Hey." I nodded. "What's going on."

"What are you doing after this?"

"Biology with Miss Gojo. Once I'm out I was gonna go see a movie with Sayori. What's up?"

Mr. Tagomi walked past us for a moment, so we grew quiet. When he returned to his desk, we kept talking.

"Nah, just me and some of the guys were gonna hit the arcades after this. That new shop down by Yamasaki Road opened last week and we were gonna check it out, wanted to see if you were down."

"Sorry, I got plans."

"All good." There was a pause, as Toji continued to work on his canvas for a moment. By the sinks, somebody knocked over a container of dirty water which spilled across the linoleum. The student, a twin-tailed blonde haired girl on the shorter side, cursed silently to herself (but nobody really heard it) before scrambling for some paper towels. One of her friends got up to assist her. Mr. Tagomi barely glanced up, thumbing through his novel.

Toji scooched over a little closer to me. "Soooo, taking Sayori on a date, huh? How is she these days? Don't see her too much anymore."

I was perplexed by the tone he used. "What?"

"Sayori." He took a sip of his soda can. "Ain't y'all a thing now finally?"

"I'm not…" I trail off. "I'm not going out with Sayor–wait, what do you mean, finally?"

Toji tilts his head and gives me a bemused look. "Whaaat, don't act like you forgot."

"Forg–ohhh…"

Buried way way deeper down in my subconscious, one time in middle school when Toji had spent the night at my house and we stayed up playing games and reading magazines and talking about girls, we both admitted who we had a crush on in school. He told me he had a crush on our class rep…and I said I had a crush on Sayori. I mean…it was true. Back then, at least. Sayori was cute and sweet and lived right next door to me, it was only natural I guess. I didn't always have a crush on her before, but I guess I started getting butterflies around that time. Once we got into Yamaku we started to see each other less and less, as I now know she was suffering in silence and I failed her in that regard. The feelings died out because they never actually breathed, and I always valued Sayori more as a friend than a potential girlfriend. But of course, I'm in love with Natsuki now and Sayori has Yoshi. We'll always be there for each other, no matter what, but it would be nothing more than that. It's funny to reflect on all this now, I never even thought about any of this until Toji reminded me.

"Okay that…that was back then. And it was just a crush. It never went anywhere, and Sayori has a boyfriend now so it doesn't even matter anymore."

"Yeeeah, suuuure."

"It doesn't!" I took a thinner brush and dunked it in black paint, starting to work on the smoke trails. "I mean, maybe…I should've said something to her, back then. Maybe it would've gone somewhere like you and Hikari. But she has a boyfriend now, and she's really happy with him…so, by extension, I am happy for her."

The friend of the girl who spilled the water returned to help her, dumping the towels half-assedly on the growing puddle of water. Tapping them with her foot, she started to rub the towels against the floor, but they only started to tear apart and push the water even further across the floor. She needed a mop. Mr. Tagomi now took notice of this and started to walk over.

"You mean, she doesn't know? You never told her?"

"No, of course not."

"Think you ever will?"

Am I in a therapy session right now?

"I mean…I don't know why I would bring it up all of a sudden. It's ancient history, and I don't want her getting weird on me."

Toji shrugged. "If y'all are best friends, it shouldn't matter. She'll just find it cute and funny in that…", he twirled his brush at me. "Kazuma, sorta way."

He started to laugh to himself. "Well, you are pretty funny looking, so."

I glanced across the room Mr. Tagomi's back was to me, helping set up the mop for the girls. I leaned over and slugged Toji in the arm. Some of the students behind us looked up but said nothing. He winced, but he was still chuckling. "Owwwowww, okay. Okay." He rubbed the spot where I slugged him, holding his free hand up defensively. "That was justified."

He shifted in his chair, adjusting his tray of paint and the brushes next to it. "Anyway, what's your girl's name then? Somebody I know?"

"Her name's Natsuki. Pink hair, red clips, she's in the Literature Club. You know her?"

Toji paused, glancing up at the ceiling while he racked his brain.

"Nah, never heard of her."

…

You have unlocked a cry for help. Would you like to read it?

YES. NO.

YES. NO.

AGONY by Natsuki Tamura

PLEASEHELPPLEASEHELPPLEASEHELPPLE

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KAZUMA

SAVEMEKAZUMASAVEMEKAZUMASAVEMEKAZUMASAVEMEKAZUMASAVEMEKAZUMASAVEMEKAZUMASAVEMEKAZUMA

SAVEMEKAZUMASAVEMEKAZUMAILOVEYOUSAVEMEKAZUMAPLEASEHELPPLEASEHELPPLEASEHELPPLEASEHELPPLEASEHELPPLEASEHELP

PLEASEHELPPLEASEHELPPLEASEHELPPLEASEHELPPLEASEHELPPLEASEHELPPLEASEHELPIDONTWANTTO

die

...

Author's Note: In your email notifs this chapter was titled 'r', but when I submitted it the title was originally " ". Not sure what happened, I guess Fanfiction doesn't like periods in the chapter names so it chopped off. Anyway, stay tuned for what's to come. Kazuma will find out what's really going on with Natsuki, and...it won't be pretty. As always, reviews are appreciated and new chapters should be rolling in much quicker now! I had rewritten this chapter like three different times; the first idea was one from Sayori's POV and her routine, another idea was a flashback chapter between Natsuki's parents, and a third idea was gonna be a Yuri-centric school day and her thoughts on Natsuki. Oh well. Give it time, everyone will have a moment in the spotlight. Stay tuned!