CHAPTER FORTY-TWO – BURDENED (MoniKenta)

The basketball hitting deftly against his fingertips, Kenta did his best to drive forward, using his athletic build to its full advantage as he had often done. Lost in the heat of the game as he moved, he had no idea who it was that was guarding him; it was often hard to stop and tell who was in front of whom whenever the game reached its fever pitch like this. Nonetheless, his goal was simple: set up for a potential game-winning shot by either powering forth to attempt a basket or by passing the ball to someone who was more open. It seemed simple enough, but the tension was getting to him, and he did not like that.

The clock was ticking down its final twenty seconds. At thirty-six points apiece, both teams felt as if they had a lot riding on their shoulders even though a victory would simply mean that one team had bragging rights over another. It was no championship game, but that didn't mean Kenta should not attempt to be fiercely competitive. Reaching the three-point line on the opposing team's end, he gauged the field quickly. Most of his teammates were competing with the ones guarding them, doing their best to get into position. To his mounting nervousness, he saw that no one among them managed to do so. Not for the first time on the court, he found that the team's hopes were riding on him. At this, Kenta felt a rush of brazen determination. He would have to take the risk, no doubt.

He gritted his teeth as he powered forward and hoped for the best. His opponent, who seemed to be expecting him to stall for a little while longer, was startled as he was sidestepped in a flash. Though he made attempts to turn around and catch up, it seemed all for naught as Kenta soon found himself on a mad rush towards the basket, dribbling hard and fast, feeling almost manic with determination and glee as he went. In a few moments, the opposing team's remaining players bunched up around him in a last-ditch effort to deny him his momentum. With a shout, Kenta jumped up, holding the ball high above him and launching himself above everyone's heads. Just like that, he was flying. Some tried to jump alongside him and block the shot, making him feel anxious for a fleeting moment. Everything during those few crucial seconds seemed to happen in slow motion.

The moment he managed to dunk the ball successfully and felt the basket's rim collide almost painfully against his palm, Kenta knew he had done his part. He clung onto the rim triumphantly for a few seconds, only letting go once he had steadied himself. As his feet touched down on the hardwood floors of the court, his teammates and the rest of 3-C cheered and roared their approval. The opposing team scrambled to get the rebound and bring the ball to the other end of the court for a quick basket that could tie the game, but their haphazard throw missed entirely as the whistle blew to signal the end of the game. The cheers increased in volume. Kenta joined in on the noise, letting out a shout louder than the one he let loose before and beating his fist on his chest. Hands clapped hard on his shoulders and arms, both from his opponents and from his teammates, all congratulating him for winning the game in such a fashion. As the tension and excitement dissipated, the gymnasium seemed to return in Kenta's vision, bringing back the other sights that he had blocked out as he focused on the game—the bleachers, the lights, the blank electronic scoreboard that hung high above everything else, and the upperclassmen who were busy warming up on the other end of the gymnasium as they waited for 3-C to wrap up this P.E. session for their basketball practice. They could not help but watch given how much noise there was during the game's course.

Naoki's congratulatory remark came as Kenta walked towards the benches where the rest of the class was. "Nice one, Kenta," he told him, grinning. Next to Naoki, Yuri also smiled timidly and said, "That was a brave effort on your part. I'm g-glad it paid off, Kenta."

"Thanks," Kenta grunted, grinning back at the two of them. It was indeed refreshing to feel that, even for a short time, he could escape from the worries that had been plaguing him over the past few days. He had to put everything else in the back of his mind as he played on the court, for even a second's worth of distraction can cost a player a lot during a game. Kenta was used to putting on a strong front, both to let everyone know that he was fine and to drown out the noise that his problems were constantly making. And so, he had doubled down on being loud and proud to the point of being overwhelming at times, celebrating with excessive glee whenever he managed to accomplish something—the return of his test papers, all with good grades, had been an example of that.

However, now that the euphoria of his victory in basketball was starting to die down as everyone settled down, his worries were returning gradually as well. He found it difficult to stave off the anxiety that followed Daisuke's major bombshell earlier in the week about Natsuki's home situation. Being the leader of the group, Kenta made it a point to watch out for the friends that he considered brothers, and whenever one man was down, he would do his best to rally everyone else in the group to help him. Between that, his promises to help Akihiro about Sayori and Monika's move to Osaka, Kenta knew that he was being boxed into a corner. Still, it would not do if he showed weakness now or at any other time ever, especially when his friends would need him most.

"Alright, good game, everyone," their instructor said as he tallied down his last few notes on his clipboard. "Gouda, Hirano, help me return this equipment to the storerooms. The rest of you are free to go. I'll see you all next week."

With that, the class dispersed as everyone made their way to their respective locker rooms to clean up and change. Kenta, Naoki and the rest of the boys began walking to the other end of the gym, discussing the game all the while. Kenta was thankful of this, since it gave him some extra time to be distracted from his thoughts.

"Good game, Kenta," said one of the members of the opposing team. "We thought we had you for a moment there."

"To be honest, I thought so too," said Kenta, laughing. "But of course, you can never pin down Kenta Yamaguchi. He'll just keep on coming, and he'll go down swinging if he has to!"

"We actually thought that you were gonna pass the ball to Hisao or Kaiji at the other side. Even we never saw that dunk coming," said a teammate.

"What do you say to a rematch?" asked another. "Same teams, downtown at that place near the creek, this Friday?"

"I'll have to pass on that one," Kenta stated. Groans and joking jeers followed his reply. He added, "Ah, quit your bellyaching, ya dolts! If you all really want a rematch just so you can get destroyed all over again, there's always the next P.E. class for that!"

"Why not make it sooner and do it this Friday, then? Is it because you'll be going out with Monika again?"

Louder whoops and cheers followed, with Naoki even joining in. Kenta waved his hand dismissively. "You dolts keep saying that whenever I end up going home earlier than usual. If I'm going out with Monika, that's none of your business!"

"Jeez, Kenta, calm down! We're just playing with you," said another one of their classmates. "You've been pretty hyper all week, so we just figured that you'll want to unwind one of these days."

"There'll be plenty of hanging around and unwinding once the festival comes," said Kenta. "What you all should be focusing on is getting that band practice together. I wanna see what you guys can do at that little concert you'll be doing! Of course, I'd join you and all, but music ain't one of my strengths."

"Yeah, showing off is more your speed. Right, Yamaguchi?" came a jeering voice.

The remark came not from one of 3-C's boys, but from the court. Everyone stopped for a moment to see who had interrupted the group's conversation. Kenta, who felt rather struck by the comment and at the mention of his surname, frowned as he glanced around.

The upperclassmen that were warming up at the other end of the gymnasium were looking directly at their group and at him. Given how the remark sounded like a challenge of sorts, Kenta half-expected to see Takeo Kimura standing among the other group as the one who had called out to him, but the stuck-up debate club vice president was not there. Instead, a tall black-haired senior student strode forward and presented himself as the caller, folding his toned arms across his chest.

"You guys want something?" Kenta asked, walking forward as well.

"Nah, we were just talking about you earlier while you were playing on the court. It's not every day we see someone like you in his natural habitat," said the senior, prompting his buddies to laugh a little.

"Is that right?" asked Kenta, laughing sardonically along with them. "I'm glad that you guys were tuned in on our little P.E. game, then. Picked up a few pointers, maybe?"

"Not really. We just wanted a good show—see how the little guys play ball, y'know? Anyway, you'd make a good player if you didn't yell like a madman every single time you make a basket," said the senior. "Then again, don't you always do that around here no matter what you're up to?"

"Why? You got a problem with that?" asked Kenta in a mockingly casual tone, striding closer. The context of the challenge was becoming clear now; here was another student who did not take too kindly to his loudness and his brash demeanor. He had heard some of them talking behind his back and laughing, but no one among them had challenged him this directly before. With him having enough problems to think about, this encounter annoyed him greatly.

The senior walked out to meet him, a cocky smile on his face. He was slightly taller than he was, though that did not bother Kenta in the slightest; he had fried bigger fish before.

"Do you?" asked the senior in a double-edged tone.

Behind him, one of his classmates called out, seemingly sensing what could go down. "Come on, Kenta. Let's just go."

"You hear that?" said the senior. "Your buddies are calling to you. Run along now."

Kenta guffawed, deliberately making his laughter sound as grating as possible to irritate as many of the upperclassmen as he could. "I don't take orders from dolts like you."

"Is that so? That's funny, because we always took you for the obedient sort. After all, you're just Monika's boy toy, right? Running after her, yip-yapping about her, all that jazz."

At the mention of Monika's name, Kenta's mood darkened further. "If there's anyone yip-yapping around here right now, it's you, ya dolt. And I might just do something about that if you mouth off about Monika again."

"Kenta, come on," came Naoki's voice behind him. Kenta could feel the anxiousness in his tone as the standoff continued. "There's no point in all this."

Kenta didn't budge, not when his stare was starting to take its effect; he could see the upperclassman before him starting to lose his cool the longer he stood his ground. Perhaps he had not expected him to keep fighting verbally even while outnumbered and potentially outgunned. Even the other seniors were starting to lose their patience with him as they flanked closer to their leader. Kenta knew that he was starting to bite off more than he can chew, but he did not want to care in the slightest.

"Come on, Kenta," Naoki repeated. "We could get into trouble if we keep this up."

As much as he wanted to let things escalate just so he could take out his frustration on the braggarts before him with a few swings, Kenta remembered Monika and imagined how she would feel if she saw him in such a scenario. Sighing gruffly, he shook his head. "Alright, alright, I'm coming."

As he turned to walk away, though, the senior had one last quip. "What did I say, boys? Real obedient. No wonder Monika keeps you around, Yamaguchi. She might have poor taste, but at least she taught you a thing or two about shutting up and walking away."

Kenta stopped in his tracks, his anger boiling over. Without warning, he spun around and lunged for the senior, losing himself completely in a fury. The senior, who was clearly not expecting him to retaliate physically, was caught off guard with a right hook that grazed his arm. Just like that, pandemonium ensued.

The seniors' female classmates, who had been standing nearby, screamed and quickly ran clear of the bedlam before they could get caught up in it. The boys, on the other hand, rushed to their leader's aid, pushing Kenta away and trying to get in a few shots of their own. The 3-C boys would have none of it, though, as they pushed back to protect him. Some of them grabbed him and steered him away from the fracas in an attempt to calm the situation, but Kenta was too angry to stop. Flailing his strong arms free of his classmates' grip, he made a beeline for his opponent and managed this time to land a left hook square on his cheek, dropping him to the ground. In the few seconds that followed, however, pain struck Kenta on his left jaw and behind his right ear as a couple of other fists grazed his head. The blows stung and rattled his vision a little, but he managed to keep his footing thanks to the press of bodies around him. He began looking around to see who his other attackers were, but a pair of hands grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and spun him around before he could get a good look. Forced to turn and face his new assailant, Kenta saw an upperclassman rearing his fist back to strike him, but he managed to stop that with a two-handed shove that sent the other fighter stumbling backward into his comrades.

Again, Kenta's classmates rallied and pried him away. This time, the senior staggered back up and rushed towards him, landing a jab that was fortunately blocked by the mass of arms that were pulling Kenta away. Kenta guffawed, yelling "Come on!" as he attempted to break free from his friends once again, his body fired up by adrenaline and forcing him to keep fighting. The pain on his hand from the punch he had let loose no longer mattered. How long had it been since he was involved in a scrap like this?

Loud whistles began ringing above the cries and shouts; instructors were rushing towards them from one side of the gymnasium, causing some students from both sides to retreat. Still lost in a rage, however, Kenta kept trying to charge forward and get in a few more shots before the fight was broken up for good. The arms that were restraining him doubled down on their efforts in response, managing this time to completely drag him away from the seniors. Meanwhile, the instructors had now reached both parties and were barking orders for everyone to stand down. With the presence of authoritative figures now coming into play, the fight was quickly broken up, and fingers started pointing the moment the dust settled.

Kenta felt grim as most of the blame was shoved his way by the upperclassmen. He would have contested the accusations fiercely had he not been the first to let a punch fly; after all, in scenarios like this, he knew that the one who lights the powder keg and creates the explosion is often the one to blame. Still, he felt rather vindicated as he and the senior that he had been brawling with were set aside and told off loudly by the instructors for their actions in full view of their classmates; at least, Kenta mused, he did not shoulder the blame all alone, and such an experience seemed better than being left alone with his opponent in the disciplinarian's office to wait for a sermon there.

After they had finished giving their ten-minute castigations, the instructors ordered the two of them to go their separate ways, stating that their actions would be reported to their respective class advisers and that appropriate disciplinary actions would be meted out by them. Without another glance at him, the upperclassman retreated in a huff, being the one who was worse for wear in both pride and body after being decked earlier. Kenta stalked off as well, marching both triumphantly and hesitantly back to his classmates. They were quick to ask if he was hurt, though he assured them that apart from the strain of the two successful blows that had landed earlier on him, he was entirely okay. He knew, however, that he had just added one more problem to worry about amidst everything else that he was dealing with.

Monika walked quietly but hastily down the stairs, intent on getting to the ground floor and outside the school entrance as soon as she could. When one of her acquaintances informed her earlier through a text message that Kenta had reportedly instigated a fight in the gymnasium, she felt compelled to talk to him straight away. She had texted him beforehand, asking him where he was and if he had gone on home already. Kenta admitted that he was still sticking around alone at the school entrance, and Monika told him to stay put as she wrapped up the debate club's practice for the nationals.

Kenta was sitting quietly on a stone bench near the gates, looking grim as he stared ahead. Monika wanted to call out to him, but she had no greetings that she could say at the moment; apart from feeling the stress of leading the debate club's practice, she was incredulous at the thought of Kenta brawling with upperclassmen so suddenly.

Kenta looked up at the sound of her footsteps. His opal eyes were tinged with a resigned sadness. "Hey," he muttered.

"What happened?" she asked him seriously.

With a sigh, Kenta looked away. "Are you sure you wanna know?"

Not satisfied with his dejected answers, Monika moved closer to him. "I already know," she said, hoping to draw out more than just a few words from him, "but I want you to tell me everything."

"Monika—" Kenta began quietly, but she cut across him.

"Kenta, please."

Another sigh hissed through Kenta's nostrils. He buried his face in his hands for a moment, as if he could not bear to look at her directly out of shame. Monika waited patiently for his reply. In spite of how upset she felt, she wanted to hear him out.

"This senior was talking trash to me," Kenta replied at last, "right after our P.E. game. I wanted to let it slide, but the dolt kept getting in my face. He said . . ."

Instead of going on, Kenta began breathing heavily, as if speaking was taking its toll on him. Monika stared at him for a few seconds. When he still didn't continue, she asked, "What exactly did he say?"

Kenta balled his hands into fists. "You really sure you wanna hear it all?"

"Yes."

Kenta looked away once again, evidently unable to bear looking at her face as he said, "He said all sorts of things. About me, and about you too. He said you had poor taste, that I'm just some sort of pet to you, that I'm too noisy and annoying for my own good, that kind of stuff. It's nothing I haven't heard before."

Monika mulled over the words for a second. "Did you hit him first?"

". . . Yeah."

At that, Monika let out a disappointed sigh. "Kenta, you didn't have to do that. I understand that you were annoyed, but you could've just walked away and let him talk, you know?"

"I know, I know," said Kenta.

"And it was wrong for you to actually start the fight yourself," said Monika, cutting across him. "What if things escalated? What if someone got hurt bad? Not to mention, you're surely going to get into trouble with the teachers for this. It could affect your standing in the school in the long run. You've told me about the fights you got into back in middle school and how much trouble they brought, right? High school is more difficult to circumvent because rules are stricter. What if you got suspended for what happened?"

"Yeah, I know that. It's alright, though. I mean, I'd deserve it, right?" said Kenta.

"No, it's still not alright if you get suspended, Kenta." Monika shook her head. "You do understand why I'm telling you all this, right? You've told me before that you were growing past these kinds of things."

"Don't worry, you're not the only one who's disappointed in me," Kenta muttered grimly. "I hate myself so much."

"Kenta . . ."

"I'm just done with everything about myself right now. You're right. The fight earlier seems really lame now that I've calmed down and thought about it. I could've avoided what happened, but I didn't. Really smart move by Kenta Yamaguchi, right? Kenta Yamaguchi, too hotheaded for his own good. Kenta frigging Yamaguchi, resident troublemaker. I should just go jump in the creek and drown myself before I go on another rampage."

"Don't say that," said Monika. As much as she wanted to keep being stern, watching Kenta speak in such a defeated manner and with so much loathing for himself was making her feel bad for him. Sensing that her firmness was causing him to feel worse than he already needed, she decided to soften her approach. She sat down next to him and held his hand.

"I'm disappointed about what happened, that much is certain," she told him. "But I'm not telling you all this to make you feel down, okay? I just don't want you to get into trouble over things like this."

Kenta did not say a word. The two of them sat together in silence, with Monika's hand still entwined with his. Monika looked at him, her initial disappointment ebbing away as she observed how wretched and defeated he looked. It was a far cry from the Kenta she had grown used to.

Kenta bowed his head. "I'm sorry," he said silently. "I've been going through quite a lot lately, and I just let it get to me. It's a really lame excuse, I know. I shouldn't have let it get on my nerves in the first place and all. . ."

Monika squeezed his hand. "It's Osaka, isn't it?"

Kenta grunted. "That, and other stuff too."

"Other stuff?"

"Yeah. I haven't told you about it yet because I didn't wanna disturb you while you were busy preparing for the nationals, like you told me earlier in the week."

"Well, you can tell me now if you want."

"You sure about that?"

When Monika nodded in reply, Kenta exhaled resignedly. "Alright. The thing is—"

"Oy! Yamaguchi!"

The angry cry that interrupted Kenta's reply came from the school entrance. The two of them looked around to see a group of five upperclassmen walking towards them, looking grim. Monika had no idea who they exactly were, though she had a hunch as to why they were approaching them. She stood up and went between them.

"What's going on here?" she asked.

"Your little boyfriend over there got me in trouble, that's what!" said the caller, a tall and athletic-looking fellow with short black hair and a mean glare in his eyes. He looked familiar in the way that she recognized him as one of the students that she saw around the campus. Confirming her hunch, Monika knew that this was the senior student that Kenta had fought with earlier.

"I heard about what happened, but let's not let this escalate any further, okay?" she told them firmly.

The senior paid her no heed. "If I get suspended 'cuz of you, Yamaguchi, you're dead! You hear me?" he barked, jabbing a finger at Kenta. "You're so dead!"

Kenta did not move or say anything. Monika glared at the senior. "Are you seriously coming over to us to start that trouble all over again? Kenta might've thrown the first punch, but from what I've heard, you were the one who started it all."

"Oh, yeah? Did he come crying to you to tell you that?" the senior sneered.

"No, but my friends at the gymnasium told me about it," Monika said. That was a bit of a lie on her part, since her acquaintances did not tell her in detail how the fight began, only how it went. Nevertheless, she knew that Kenta did not make up the part about him attacking only after the taunts got the better of him. "People saw what happened, and I'm sure you know that."

The seniors looked at each other, looking hesitant now. It was a testament to Monika's status as a model student and a popular figure that she was managing to talk them down. Privately, she did feel nervous that Kenta or his current rival would ignore her words and begin brawling all over again, but if she had to take on a harsher tone with either of them, she would. Monika knew, however, that she would not always be around to defuse a situation like this, and that the seniors could always strike again when she was absent. She decided to double down.

"If something happens to Kenta tomorrow or any day after that, I'll be suspicious of you guys," she continued, "and so will the teachers. If you're planning something, it'll only get you into more trouble. If I were you, I would let all this go."

"I don't think it's that simple," the senior grumbled.

"Why? Because your egos got hurt?" Monika snapped, causing the boys to wince at her tone. Heads turned towards their direction as some students heard their argument running its course. It felt weird to contend with strangers, but she had no other choice.

"I've been talking to Kenta, and as angry as he was, he doesn't want any more trouble. I'm sure you guys don't want that too. You're seniors. In just a few months, you'll be graduating. Are you seriously going to risk throwing all that away just because of a stupid fight?"

Shifting on their feet at her words, the upperclassmen looked at one another once again. Monika stood by, ready to keep arguing if she had to. It was, after all, one of the many things she had learned in the debate club.

At last, Kenta's one-time rival grumbled under his breath for a moment before stating roughly, "Alright, alright. C'mon, guys. Let's just go."

Monika watched as the seniors stalked off in a huff, leaving the two of them alone once again. Once they were out of earshot, she heaved a sigh of relief. She hoped that her words would indeed help in putting this ridiculous incident to rest, for the good of everyone involved.

When she looked back at Kenta, she saw that he had his face buried in his hands again. She retook her place at his side and put a comforting arm on his shoulder. "Kenta?" she asked.

"You didn't have to do that," he muttered, his voice muffled slightly.

"What do you mean?"

Kenta looked up, looking dead serious. "I didn't want you putting yourself through any more trouble from the crap I started. I mean, it's not like I was gonna pick another fight with them, but . . . you didn't have to defend me like that."

Monika sighed. "Did you expect me to just stand by and let them pick on you again? Of course I would defend you."

"They won't stop," said Kenta. "Not just those dolts, but the other ones as well, the people who talk about me behind my back. I've told you before, right? Ever since we got together, people have been talking, saying all sorts of stuff. I know what they're saying. I'm just used to ignoring it all, even if it stings most of the time."

"Kenta, just let them talk," said Monika. "I've encountered my fair share of people who do that, and it's better to just shut them out or cut them off entirely. People who do that are just insecure or jealous, and there's nothing good about what they're doing. If they want to bring down other people with their negativity, then that's their problem. We, on the other hand, should just carry on with what's important, because at least we're not wasting our time and effort with that kind of petty-mindedness."

Kenta was still silent. His eyes were fixed dead ahead, looking as if they bore the weight of the world behind them. Observing him in equal silence, Monika knew that there was a lot more behind his problems than just the gossip and backtalk that he had been dealing with. "Now, what were you about to tell me earlier before we were interrupted?" she inquired.

Bowing his head in evident shame, Kenta murmured, "I dunno if I can tell you. It's not that I don't want to tell you. It's just that . . . you have so much to deal with right now, with the national competition for your club and all. The fight I picked earlier caused enough trouble already, and I don't wanna add any more to that."

Monika smiled. "Kenta, I'm used to getting stressed even before we met. I've been besieged by deadlines and tough decisions for the most part of my school life. Whatever it is that you'll be telling me about, I assure you that it won't be too much for me to handle. It's not a matter of boasting, but rather a matter of making time for the people who need my help. I'll always do my best to make sure that I can help you and anyone else."

"A leader all the way, huh? I wish I had that kind of drive all the time," Kenta grunted.

"You have that, Kenta," said Monika in a gentle tone. "You've always had it."

Kenta looked up, locking eyes with her. Her smile never fading, she let go of his shoulder and once again intertwined her hand with his own. Her frustration at his actions earlier had begun to fade; just like everyone else, Kenta simply made a mistake, egged on by stress and insecurity and a general sadness about what he was going through. But even so, he learned from his mistakes and acknowledged them. Had Kenta been feeding his old ways, he would shrug off the criticism she had given him and carried on like nothing happened, but Monika knew that he was no longer that kind of person.

Convinced by her softened tone, Kenta began explaining what he had tried to say earlier. Monika listened as he spoke of an impromptu hangout that he had called a few days ago with Naoki, Akihiro and Daisuke, explaining how he had invited his friends because he felt that there was something up with them that they were not sharing with everyone else. Monika felt warmed at the thought that Kenta would be so determined to help his friends and watch out for them; this kind of attitude had endeared him to her as much as his fun-loving side and sincerity did.

The atmosphere soon changed, however, when Kenta began explaining what it was that he and his friends had discussed that day. Firstly, Kenta admitted with guilt that he had confided with them his thoughts about her move to Osaka; not expecting him to keep such thoughts to himself in the first place, Monika could not blame him for talking to his best friends about it, seeing the effect that her impending transfer had on him ever since she broke the news to him. Whenever he spoke about Osaka, Kenta always had an air of despondence lying beneath his rowdy exterior, and it stood out even more now that he was feeling down.

"After I told them about you moving to Osaka and all, Daisuke became a bit braver about coming clean with some stuff that he was dealing with," Kenta continued. "It's really serious stuff, lemme tell you, and it's been on my mind for a long while now. You might think I'm just worrying about stuff that I shouldn't exactly be worrying about, but it ain't as simple as that. Daisuke's my best buddy, just like Naoki is, and just like Akihiro is starting to be. I treat them like brothers, and not just when it comes to having fun and horsing around. If they need my help, I'll be there to do just that. I ain't the smartest guy around, but I don't wanna let that stop me when my best friends need help."

"What did he tell you guys?" asked Monika, feeling a bit of apprehension well up inside her; Kenta was speaking with even more seriousness now, and it gave her an idea of how grave this problem could be.

Kenta kept quiet for a few seconds. "I dunno if I can say it straight," he mumbled. "I kinda see where Daisuke was coming from when he said that he didn't know how to tell us about it at first. I-It's not that I don't trust you enough to tell you, of course!" he added hastily.

"Don't worry, I understand," said Monika in a comforting tone. "If you can't tell me right now, it's up to you. I won't force you."

Kenta sighed. "Now I feel bad."

"Don't." Again, Monika clutched his hand consolingly. "I understand, okay? You've been through quite a lot for the past few days, and then there was the fight earlier. . ."

"Yeah, especially that." Kenta shook his head disappointedly. "I wonder how many days I'll be beating myself up for that fight. I'll bet you my allowance next week that I'll be suspended for starting it."

"We don't know that," said Monika in an attempt to encourage him to change his thoughts. "No one got hurt badly, and you were provoked into fighting. I know you could've reacted better, but I understood why you ended up hitting that guy in the first place. Besides, this is your first incident in a long time. I'm sure your class adviser won't hold your past incidents against you."

"You really think so?" asked Kenta.

"Well, I won't deny that I'm worried, and I don't know for sure," Monika admitted. "But still, you didn't come picking a fight on your own, and you're not a repeat offender."

"Doesn't mean I'm not loud and bad-tempered like they're saying, right?" said Kenta, laughing at his self-criticism. "Anyway, about what Daisuke told us . . . just promise that you won't tell anyone about it. Is that okay with you?"

"Only if it's okay for you to tell me about it," said Monika.

Kenta sighed. "Alright," he said, though it took him a few more moments before he could compose himself to start divulging. "It's about Natsuki. Daisuke found out that . . . that her home situation's not exactly a good one. He said that her dad h-hurts her."

Monika was completely taken aback. She admittedly did not know much about Natsuki Fujisawa, other than her being Daisuke's close friend and an old classmate of Sayori's. Still, it did not stop her from counting her as a friend; Natsuki gave off an aura of silent seriousness that had been evident when she came along at the get-together at Monika's house weeks ago, but her sassy remarks towards Daisuke's jokes and her attempts at being friendly with the rest of them had made Monika appreciate her company.

Kenta echoed her sentiments as he continued. "Any friend of Daisuke's is a friend of mine, and I know how close he is with Natsuki. He ain't gonna lie about a thing like this. Natsuki's a nice girl, and she damn well sure doesn't deserve the kind of crap she's going through at her home. I can tell that Daisuke's really shaken up by it all, and he's having a lot of problems figuring out how to help her. That's why I've been worrying all week—I wanna help both of them, and I'm sure that Akihiro and Naoki want the same, but we still need to figure out how. Don't get me wrong, it's not like we're gonna just rush over to Natsuki's place and bail her out of there. It's more of how . . . how we can help Daisuke feel that he's not alone in this, and how we can find a proper way to help Natsuki without getting anyone into any big trouble."

With an effort, Monika broke out of the stunned silence she was steeped in. "Does Natsuki know that you guys are helping her and Daisuke?"

"No, and I'm sure Daisuke wants it to stay that way," said Kenta.

"Okay, good call," Monika mused. Digesting everything that Kenta had just told her, she now saw in a whole new light the lack of emotional control on his part that led to him getting into a fight; anyone would be likely to snap under duress if they had been stressing over such things for more than a few days now. Moreover, she knew what it was like to worry for the wellbeing of her friends, and for a moment, she remembered Sayori and how she still had not chosen to talk to her about what she had wanted to share.

The silence that hung between them soon became palpable. Wordlessly, Kenta stood up. Surprised by this, Monika stood up as well. "What is it?" she asked.

"I think I'm gonna go on home," Kenta replied. "I feel like I shouldn't stick around here for too long. I might get into more trouble. I mean, you know me. . ."

Monika sighed sadly. "Kenta, I'm not mad at you, okay? I was just a bit stressed from the debate practice earlier, and hearing about your fight just caught me out of the blue."

Kenta laughed unkindly; more to himself than anyone else, she knew. "Never thought I'd end up disappointing you. Just when I thought I finally managed to change."

"You did change for the better," said Monika. "And it's normal to get into lapses like that. We all make mistakes. We just have to learn from them and avoid making them again."

"Yeah, maybe. . ." Kenta grunted.

Monika patted his arm. "Please don't beat yourself up over this too much, okay?"

"I'll try," Kenta replied. His lips twisted into a sour grin. "When Mom gets wind of this, she's gonna have a fit, I'm sure. It'd be like middle school all over again."

He looked at her, his smile softening. "I'll just see you around. Take care, alright? And again, I'm sorry for . . . everything."

Monika smiled back. "You take care too. I'll talk to you again if I'm not too busy."

As she watched Kenta walk home in a subdued silence, Monika's smile faded. She wanted nothing more than to accompany him along the way and help brighten his mood a little, but she knew that Kenta was too ashamed right now to accept that kind of comfort. She felt for him, knowing that he was going through an ordeal similar to what she had experienced—being trapped by the words and images that people choose to associate with him. It was what made her want to do all she can to help him see past all that. Still, with the approach of the nationals and her issues with her parents' move to Osaka, she had quite a lot on her plate like he did. It made her feel relatively helpless, as if she could not do anything but stand by and watch, and she knew that Kenta undoubtedly felt the same.

Monika looked up at the sky, comprehending the realness of life at the moment. She felt so small, a mere pawn in the game of life, an insignificant part of a bigger whole. She felt as if she had no real route to follow, doomed to simply watch as the world moved on with or without her. Doubtless, many people before her had experienced similar notions, that feeling of helplessness wherein one cannot even hope to fight back against it all. But she could not simply cling on to such thoughts as if they were infallible.

No, she thought. We can fight back. There's always a chance for us all, just like there are always choices that we're given.

Again, she glanced at where Kenta had vanished. Infinite choices, she remembered, hearkening back to the poem she had been writing long ago.