Tuesday, 10/25
Futaba couldn't give up. She'd traveled so far on her own, with so much strife along the way, only for the steps leading up to Shujin to scare her away from her ultimate goal of enjoying the Culture Festival.
Too many people, too many voices, too many eyes; Futaba was overwhelmed by her surroundings and the people who seemed to be watching every step she took. She'd handled it well enough on the subway—she hid by immersing herself in a mobile game—but she couldn't do that right outside Shujin. The many visitors of the Culture Festival would walk past her, mock her, and do anything they could for a laugh at Futaba's expense.
The mere thought of showing herself to people she didn't know was humiliating.
I hate taking the subway because there isn't anything you can do. You either sit or stand and mind your own business, but nobody does, Futaba thought, remembering the all too real experience of controlling how quick her breaths were in order to maintain a low profile. Unfortunately, no matter how short one is, orange hair eradicates the idea of a low profile.
"Futaba?" A hand placed itself on her shoulder, sending shivers down her spine. She spun, realizing that it was friend, not foe. "What are you doing… here?" Yusuke asked, gesturing at the little nook she'd found along the street that led to Shujin's gates. There was a bench and a vending machine, though Futaba found it more useful as a place to look into a corner instead of at the passing droves of students, parents, and guests.
"I'm hiding," she said, nervously laughing. She started to turn back to her corner—too many people were behind Yusuke for her comfort. Yusuke's other hand on her other shoulder stopped her.
For emphasis, Yusuke leaned his head in. "You are safe, Futaba." He let go of her, trusting her to be reasonable as he took a step back. The world behind him—the people, the voices, the eyes—seemed less intimidating with Yusuke as a guide through it. "Come. We must enjoy the evening."
With Ren, and with Ann, and with Makoto, and with Ryuji, and with Haru… I love them all, I do, but sometimes… Futaba closed her eyes, seeing all the times she'd been with the group in public. She held them back from being normal, she knew so. The Festival isn't something for me—I don't even go to Shujin. It's their night, they shouldn't have invited me. Yusuke would come anyway, so it doesn't matter whether they invited him or not.
"Yusuke, I don't think I can see the others right now…" Her admission came with shame. Yusuke closed the gap between them. His face—almost always stern and concealing—was soft, understanding, and kind.
Yusuke's hand shot in the air as he erupted with a proclamation. "We shall have a date!"
Good one, Yusuke. Not my type, and I'm definitely not his, Futaba thought as she shook her head as hard as she could.
"Uh… no."
Yusuke took no offense and his resolve remained strong. "We shall have a pleasantly platonic date!"
"There you go."
"My friend, are you ready?" With grace, Yusuke extended a hand to her to lead her out of the nook and into the street. Past him, she saw a few students casting them a glance, but nothing more than that. They had better, more interesting, things to care about.
"What if someone-"
"What if, what if, what if! To Hell with if!" Yusuke stepped close yet again, making Futaba embarrassed for causing a scene but bringing her comfort by putting the spotlight on himself. "If someone approaches and dares to offend, I will banish them!"
He's got a lot of conviction for someone without banishing powers. Maybe he's not lying, Futaba thought.
She took his hand. Immediately, he pulled her from the nook and into the street. He led with a quick pace, bringing Futaba past the slow-walking students and around the corner of the gate. Just like that, Futaba overcame her first obstacle of the evening.
"I must confess, Futaba, that I, too, am out of my element," Yusuke said as he slowed their pace. Her hand slipped from his and they walked side by side to the giant steps that led into Shujin. "All these people—they do not know that I am a starving artist."
Part of spending time with Yusuke meant learning when to roll one's eyes and when to respond. Futaba learned the proper way to handle such statements during her time using Yusuke's talents for money.
"I dunno, they might. You look pretty starved tonight."
"Why, thank you."
Feeling encouraged, Futaba went out on a limb. "I'll buy dinner tonight, okay?"
"That would hardly be proper."
"Ah, but it would because this is a pleasantly platonic evening, remember?" she joked, hoping Yusuke would laugh it off.
Of course, because he was still the same old Yusuke, he did no such thing. "It wouldn't be improper because of its lack of romanticism, but because it would disobey rule sixteen of the Kosei Handbook which states," Yusuke cleared his throat, "'Students purchasing food for consumption in pairs will pay according to whoever is of greater stature.'"
Without even realizing it, Futaba and Yusuke started climbing the steps. He'd distracted her with his tales of what sounded like a foreign land. "Whaaat? Are there exceptions?"
"Rule seventeen: 'On the night of a full moon, students of shorter stature are permitted to pay.'"
Futaba looked to the sky. Barely obscured by clouds, a crescent moon peeked through to cast some light on her glasses. "Shit."
"But we are not at Kosei. Tonight, we are Shujin students. Therefore, you may pay for my meal."
"Lucky me."
They conquered the stairs, leaving only the doors for Futaba to stare down, challenge to a fight, and inevitably win with Yusuke at her side. Without hesitating, they walked through the open doors and into Shujin Academy, home of the annual Culture Festival.
The Culture Festival lived up to its name. Every room Futaba and Yusuke passed brought an interesting, unique angle to the Festival. Whether it was a chess tournament or a student-organized clothing store, the rooms always had something unique.
The lockers were lined with posters and graphics designed to lead people to new classrooms or, more importantly, to excite them for the second day of the Culture Festival and the main event. I can't believe Teddie's the guest. All that creepy shit he's done, but he'll be here tomorrow night… wow, Futaba thought as she took her eyes off a poster that depicted Teddie and Shujin's volleyball team holding a trophy.
Because they stayed on the first floor, Futaba was yet to see any of the other members of GRAVY. She also found it strange that she received no texts from them, but it was better this way. Even with Yusuke at her side, she still felt nervous passing a loud group of girls or a laughing group of guys. Being judged was the worst outcome of every scenario Futaba could imagine.
Luckily, Yusuke dragged her into rooms quite often. If Yusuke wasn't a starving artist and had spending money, he would've been exactly who advertisers tried to pander to. Every single poster that caught his eye resulted in a quest to find, analyze, and triumph over the room it originated from.
Their newest quest—a baseball-themed classroom—bored Futaba to tears before she even stepped through the door.
"Baseball… really?" she said to Yusuke, tugging on his shoulder. "It's the sporting equivalent of waiting outside the microwave for ramen."
"True, but one must never pass up an opportunity to demonstrate their skills."
"You played baseball?"
"No, but I am talented in everything I do."
They walked through the door, finding the room to be worse than Futaba expected. Students had cleared the desks out of the room, leaving a little walkway that led to the door. A barrier kept visitors from going into the line of fire, creating a no man's land between the visitors and the bullseye targets.
A student with a smidge of charisma got to host the event. "Step right up and try your luck. Three strikes, win a prize, and brag to your friends!" he yelled, barely able to elevate his voice over the noise in the classroom and outside.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but that doesn't look like a strike zone, Futaba thought. She eyed the red bullseye that replaced baseball's conventional invisible rectangle. A strike on the bullseye was a much more demanding task than an actual strike; Yusuke had his work cut out for him.
Futaba and Yusuke got in line behind a parent and their student. Proudly, the parent watched as their student hit the outer layer of the bullseye and ruined their streak of strikes.
"Ooh, better look next time," teased the host student. As quick as he could, he strolled up to the failure and pinned a sticker on his uniform. Futaba read its label in disgust.
"I Did My Best and That's What Matters!" is tough to read. Ouch, Futaba thought, hoping Yusuke wouldn't end up with one of those.
"Next up: the gentleman with the blue hair!" the host loudly declared. Yusuke stepped around the departing parent and student, picking a baseball up out of a bucket. He stared down his target for a solid five seconds before the host reminded him that there was a line. "Hopefully, he throws faster than he starts!"
His gaze unbroken, Yusuke opened his mouth. "That was unfunny." He cocked his arm back and side-armed the baseball right down the center of the bullseye. Futaba heard murmurs behind her; the line was getting excited to finally have someone competent pitching.
Somehow, the host took offense. "Unfunny, you say? I am the host! My class chose me because I am funny!" Futaba had to remind herself that not everyone knew Yusuke the way she did, so they wouldn't understand his… quirks and mannerisms.
Yusuke proved himself to be just as unfunny. "Funny, or funny looking?" Again, he easily hurled a baseball into the center of the bullseye. The loud thud brought cheers from the onlookers. Everyone, except for the host, had a smile on their face.
"I'll have you know-"
Yusuke brought a finger to the lips of the host. Puzzled, the host shut up but that only complied with Yusuke's wishes. Yusuke withdrew his finger, turning his back on the bullseye and facing the crowd. He made sure everyone saw him close his eyes.
Then he backflipped, threw the ball mid-air, and hit his third consecutive strike.
The crowd erupted into applause and cheers, nobody knowing that Yusuke did things like that on the regular. Still, Futaba got so caught up in the excitement and cheering for Yusuke that things felt right to her—she felt normal.
Even better, she got to see the host make a face like he just saw a dog assume the position of supreme leader during a coup incited by the cat constituency. "We have a winner," he said, lacking any semblance of his previous enthusiasm.
Yusuke grabbed the prize—a two-thousand yen gift card to Junes—from the table next to the host and held it high over his head, eliciting more cheers than ever before.
Slowly, the moment died away. The next contestant began their turn, the host went back to his energized ways, and Yusuke led Futaba out of the classroom. Turning around, he handed her his prize. "For you."
"Aw, that's so sweet," Futaba said with a tinge of sarcasm, though she did appreciate the gift. She couldn't remember the last time she went to Junes, but any form of currency was appreciated. "Where to?"
Yusuke looked around for posters or anything that caught his eye. Futaba tried to follow his gaze, but his eyes shot around like pinballs and lost her immediately. Instead, she found her own point of interest: a poster with two exploding controllers.
"Yusuke! There's a Rash Toes tournament in 1-C!"
"Then we shall collect heads and wallets as we decimate the competition. Come."
Off they went in search of virtual victims to humiliate with their unopposed Rash Toes prowess.
"Huh… looks like there's boxing," Futaba said as she scanned over a lazily put-together poster. Whoever made it had little experience with photoshop and the poster reflected it. It showed a cut-out photo of a boxer slapped onto a photo of Shujin's front gates. "'Come test your mettle by challenging the champion of champions!' Pff, as if."
Futaba couldn't care less, especially when the room that housed the Rash Toes tournament was just around the corner.
"You ever box, Yusuke?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"It would be unfair. My reach is unrivaled, my strength has no comparison, and my hair-"
"-Is blue. Yeah, I'm sure you'd be great," Futaba said, smiling at the thought of Yusuke's noodle arms being weighed down by boxing gloves. Sure, he could perform incredibly impressive acrobatics, but Yusuke would get folded in half with one right hook.
They walked past a few food stands, as well as classrooms solely devoted to takoyaki. One even set up a maid cafe, though Futaba wasn't interested because she wasn't a weirdo. Not interested at all…
Turning the corner, Futaba saw the door to the Rash Toes room because of the line. The sight worthy of ruining her night nearly did just that. But instead of standing in the middle of the hall to feel sorry for herself, Futaba continued towards the line. So many people, so little time for the Festival.
Futaba would have to make it count when she got her shot.
They didn't wait in line long until Yusuke got fed up. "If there's one thing I truly despise, it is queuing. The only thing worse than a long line is butterless popcorn."
"I mean, lines suck, but…. butterless popcorn? That's the worst thing ever?"
"Yes."
"To each their own."
Futaba thought of her least favorite things at that moment. Number one is probably people I don't know. Number two… 'Pigwarts Traditions.' Ten thousand yen for a digital copy is practically stealing. Worse, the game is shit! Wisely, Futaba moved on to other thoughts, or else she would upset herself. Yusuke's got a good point about lines. I hate them as much as I can.
However, the Rash Toes line moved quickly. Two would be allowed into the classroom as soon as two left. Shit. Is it a tournament for duos? Fiiiiine, I guess I can carry Yusuke, Futaba thought. She looked at Yusuke, whose hatred of lines had been forgotten in favor of inspecting the locks on each locker.
"Shujin Academy's security is underfunded… this is good."
Futaba didn't think she heard him right. "What'd you say?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all."
"Okay… anyway, I think it's a duo tournament. You're not gonna hold me back, right?"
"Of course not. I am perfectly capable of holding my own. Remember my thrashing of Ryuji?"
Futaba crossed her arms, telling Yusuke to get serious. "Really? Ryuji is probably the worst Rash Toes player in GRAVY. That's nothing to brag about."
"Then I tell you that I kept up with Ren. Is this satisfactory?"
"Hm... barely. It'll have to do."
They inched forward as another duo was let into the classroom. Futaba looked to her left; the Festival raged on with more guests than ever. Old couples, assumedly parents of students, walked around while younger siblings of students ran in between the many people. The Culture Festival was a family outing for most.
Based on how Ren describes this place, I wasn't expecting people to have this much fun. I figured it would be super lame, with shitty class events and unenthused students, Futaba thought. To her surprise, it was none of that. The Culture Festival seemed to be the one thing Shujin could get right. Even Futaba had fun, forgetting the fears that plagued her before she entered the gate.
Minutes passed as Futaba watched the swelling crowd. The halls were clogged with lines going in and out of classrooms, and with guests bearing trays of food while looking for somewhere to sit. Futaba's stomach rumbled, but they were at the front of the line and couldn't abandon their quest so close to the finish line.
"Names?" the doorman, a student with a nametag, asked. He held a clipboard and couldn't be bothered to take his eyes off it. Unlike the people in the crowd, the poor student who had to hold the door wasn't having a great night. Boredom took hold of his voice.
Yusuke's arm shot in the air. "Yus-"
"Alibaba and T-Bone," Futaba interrupted.
With no questions, he jotted down their names. "Go to Station Four; Hideo will set you guys up."
1-D's transformation into a Rash Toes den was impressive. The lights were gone, the walls were lined with neon-green glow-in-the-dark designs, and all the desks were moved somewhere else. Instead of a learning environment, it became a hub of degenerate Rash Toes professionals.
It was well-designed, but the first thing Futaba noticed was the smell. Shujin's mustiest congregated to demonstrate why they spent more time playing Super Rash Toes instead of showering. This is why I only compete online. It fucking reeks, Futaba thought.
Eight stations, each with a monitor, a Switch, and two chairs, were positioned around the room. Station Four sat in a corner right under the air conditioning unit, thankfully. Futaba would have to find a way to turn it on without pissing off the students hosting the event; she planned on winning for a long time, and she wouldn't be distracted by the BO possessed by all Feta Knight mains.
Futaba and Yusuke took seats at the station. The monitor, already on, displayed the character selection screen. "First-time players, or season pros?" a student asked from behind Futaba.
"Pros."
"Gotcha. Need any assistance setting up?"
"Yeah. Could you grab any prizes, pools of cash, or documented bragging rights and bring them over here?" Hideo looked puzzled, so Futaba simplified her request. "I don't plan on losing."
Hideo laughed. "Ah, okay. I assure you that we have a talented group of-"
"-Of losers. You haven't seen a real winner. Yet."
Hideo raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. He must've been a doubter. "If you say so. Why don't we match you against… Hajime and Toshio." Hideo took the controller from the desk, pressed a few buttons, and connected them to a lobby with their new opponents.
Oh, of course he's a Clephiroth main with a name like Toshio. As for you, Flaccid Snake, you won't live very long… Futaba's confidence skyrocketed since sitting down and taking a controller in hand. 1-D was soon to be her kingdom and nobody knew it, not even Yusuke—he was just along for the ride.
As soon as the game started, that fact became even more apparent. Unlike Futaba, Yusuke stayed his hand from attacking their opponents. He hung out on the side of the stage, practicing flips and tricks with his character. I don't mind; makes my job easier, Futaba thought as she clicked buttons so quickly that her ears learned to tune out the sound entirely.
Her character moved like a blur of death, slamming into the opponents and then evading their attacks with ease. Each time she knocked one off the stage, Futaba heard groans of frustration from one of the other station; it motivated her even more. She wanted to hear screams of pain stemming from button-mashing-induced carpel tunnel; she wanted to make them never pick up the game of Rash Toes again.
In no less than three minutes, she did it.
"Fucking bullshit, man!" A controller flew across the room and smashed into the wall. Bits of plastic hit the ground, deafening the room and making everyone's head turn to look at the sore loser. He shoved his chair back towards the desk as he stormed out of the room with curses hiding beneath his wheezing breaths.
Hideo stared at Futaba in disbelief and awe. She couldn't care about impressing people; there were prizes to be won.
"Next, please!"
Futaba expected absolute victory. Time and time again, she lived up to her own expectations. Challengers came and went like the musty wind of a Feta Knight main, each of them sent away in devastating fashion. Futaba wielded her character with such grace and finesse that she'd drawn a crowd of spectators to the classroom.
Prizes piled up next to Futaba after each title-retaining match. Stuffed animals, gift cards, loaves of bread from the school store, a Shujin beanie, and a duck whistle were the most visible ones, but even more hid at the base of the pile.
Yusuke, despite being one half of the team, contributed nothing. He gave more interest to finding the most interesting ways to taunt their opponents as Futaba handed them a loss. He slid down the side over and over; he made his character do dance moves as Hell raged around him. His privilege to not worry about being hit came from Futaba's absolute dominance over the competition.
After another match and another victory, Hideo came forward. "Congratulations, Alibaba, but I'm sorry to tell you that we're out of prizes. You've cleaned house."
Of course I cleaned house! What'd you think was gonna happen—losing in the first round? Futaba mentally chided Hideo but kept her arrogance to herself.
"Fine by me." Futaba turned around, facing the crowd that formed behind her and Yusuke to witness her greatness. "Who's ready to start doing wagers?!"
Cheers, roars, and elation; the crowd loved her. They were Shujin students, younger siblings, or just peers from another school, but they accepted Futaba. They knew nothing of her fears, her social anxiety, or how she stood like a lost little duckling outside the gate before the night began.
Just like that, she overcame her second obstacle of the evening.
Unfortunately, the morally bankrupt patriarchy of Shujin Academy crushed dreams and funded volleyball teams whenever someone got too happy within the school.
"Sorry, no gambling!" Hideo declared over the fuss, silencing everyone with one big groan.
Futaba looked at her pile of prizes. I've done enough, and now I hunger! Sojiro's curry sounded like the best thing ever at that moment, but Futaba would have to settle for being adventurous and try some of the Culture Festival's food.
Yusuke took a bite of his takoyaki. "Do you understand the art of sleepwalking?"
"It's something I think about all the time." Futaba's mind continued to autopilot as the takoyaki took over her taste buds. She may or may not have chosen the third spiciest option.
Apparently, I'm a bitch when it comes to spicy food unless it's instant noodles. Lame! Futaba thought.
"I've begun practicing after discovering my aptitude in an accident."
"How do you practice sleepwalking?"
"Walking while sleeping. How else?"
I shouldn't have asked—I knew I was gonna get an answer like that. Futaba shook her head, taking her eyes off Yusuke to check if her garbage bag of prizes still sat under the table—it did. With no other way to transport the prizes, Futaba devised a genius makeshift solution: using a prize to hold the rest of the prizes. After all, only the worst prize—a literal bag for garbage—needed to suffer.
With her prizes in check and Yusuke contently suckling on his takoyaki like he didn't order the spiciest option possible, Futaba looked around Shujin's courtyard. From their table (with a bench on either side) the world around them seemed like chaos.
Futaba could look up through the windows of the second and third floors, seeing their halls just as busy as the first floor. She could turn around and see the line for the takoyaki stand that they gave too much of their time to. She could even look around and see other tables like theirs, packed with students and their families lining both sides of the tables.
Unlike them, Futaba and Yusuke were alone. Even the most desperate seat-finder at Shujin would veer in the opposite direction when they realized two weirdos occupied the table.
Because they were alone, Futaba could hear everything. Sound converged on their table at the center of the courtyard, overloading Futaba with too much information from other peoples' conversations. It didn't help that Yusuke, while good company, never had lengthy conversations.
Through laughs and yells, Futaba heard something. "...I saw her standing in between the vending machine and the wall… yeah, the one out front. God, what a loser. Her and her boyfriend, or whatever. He looks like a blue-haired vulture!" A wave of laughs came from that cursed direction behind Futaba. "Dude, they were playing Rash Toes earlier—you should've seen her. Total hunchback!"
The words didn't hurt; the fact that Futaba was noticed and judged did.
She didn't look because it would only embarrass her more. If her face was red, Yusuke didn't say anything. He didn't seem to be paying attention anyway; Yusuke had divided the takoyaki ball into sixteenths and carefully maneuvered them into forming a crude smiley face. Ironic, Futaba thought with disgust as she shut her eyes to keep the tears back.
Her face was hot, her ego from the Rash Toes tournament had vanished, and there was nothing she wanted to do more than run home and hide in the world of her favorite game. The thought of slamming her door shut more than tempted Futaba to stand and leave Yusuke, but she couldn't. Everyone would see her and know how stupid she looked. Everyone would-
"I must relieve myself. Where shall we rendezvous?" Yusuke asked. Futaba looked up, still with tears at the bottom of her eyes. He had turned the smiley face of takoyaki slivers to face her. Patiently, he awaited a response with his interlocked hands resting on the table. "Outside the chess room, perhaps?"
"Yes. Sure!"
Yusuke paused his departure, looking closely at Futaba. She swore he leaned in closer, burying his eyes in her psyche. He knew what ailed her, what she heard the students say, what everyone thought of her—everything. Yusuke saw her memories play out, saw ones yet to occur, and witnessed everything in between.
Just as soon as it started, it ended. Yusuke got up in a hurry and walked away from the table. All alone, Futaba sat with her spicy takoyaki, her garbage bag, and her shredded confidence. Her ears still worked too, sadly. She'd have to put up with even more jests about her hair color, what she wore, and-
Futaba turned around. She looked in the direction of where she heard the insults, seeing nothing but an empty table with left-behind trays of food. No one was left to make fun of Futaba and ruin her evening—except for everyone else at the Festival—but Futaba would cherish this victory as her greatest.
With some confidence restored, Futaba stood up. She wiggled her hand under the table to grab the garbage bag, then picked up her takoyaki tray. She twirled in a circle to find the nearest trash can, surging forward as a row of glorious gray bins against the courtyard wall lined her vision.
Futaba tossed her container of Takoyaki against the courtyard wall, banking it into the trash can with too much finesse for someone so unpracticed.
"Hey!" Futaba saw nobody. Even doing a full circle, no one was looking at her or wanting her attention, yet the voice yelled again. "Hey! You!" Futaba turned. The voice was behind her… from the wall with the trash cans. "Someone! Help!"
Futaba had to see it to believe it. She stepped slowly to the trash can, building her own anticipation as she began to fully register the truth. Within a few feet, the calls for help turned into strained grunts of effort.
She peered into the trash can; a folded lawn chair of a student stared back. One elbow bent around his neck and the other couldn't be seen. His legs folded under and around him, impressing Futaba with how much he'd been contorted. "Holy shit, thank God. Could you…" He trailed off as his eyes widened. His moment of rescue must have overshadowed who was doing the rescuing. "Er…" He swallowed whatever request he had for Futaba, silently looking up at her.
"Um…" Despite her position of power, Futaba felt awkward. Without Yusuke at her side to reassure her, she had to talk to someone she'd never met before. "What are you doing in there?"
"This guy with blue hair assaulted me and my friends! He-"
Yusuke? Wait a minute… Futaba caught on quickly.
"Why'd he do that?" she asked.
"Well, uh… he just came up to our table and told us we sounded like a school of fish, or a herd of sheep, or something stupid. I don't know!" He forced words out of his mouth to avoid the truth: he was the one who made fun of Futaba. Yusuke had noticed and taken action instead of going to the bathroom. That, however, raised a new question for Futaba. Where was Yusuke, and how on Earth did he manage to stuff a student in a trash can so quickly? "Look, can you just help me out? I swear that-"
"Do you deserve it?"
"What?"
"Do you deserve to be let out of the trash can?"
"I… yes?"
"No, you don't because you're a dickhead that makes fun of people just trying to enjoy their evening. Futaba backed away from the trashcan, pulling her head from the guy's literal tunnel vision.
"Hey, hey! Please!"
"Lucky for you, I don't suck." Futaba grabbed the trash can. With both hands tightly gripping its edge, she overcame the third obstacle of her night and pulled the trash can to its tipping point. She backed away as it fell over with a thud and a grunt. As evident by the arm reaching out, the motion had been enough to shake a limb loose from the knot of body parts. "You're welcome," Futaba said as she stood proudly over the tipped can.
Slowly but surely, the student pulled himself out of the trash can. He stretched his legs on the grass, pushing down on his calves and knees with balled fists to iron out his cramps. "Thanks…" he said, standing up with sea legs. "I guess you heard us talking. Sorry."
Futaba shrugged. "You learned your lesson." Without saying goodbye, she left the student to clean up the small mess created by the tipped can. Bigger things called for her, and she wanted to leave the Culture Festival on a high note. What better way to go out than by performing a rare act of kindness at the least friendly school in Tokyo?
She bounded off into the busy halls on her own, eyes ready for whenever she saw that familiar blue hair among the sea of people.
Yusuke walked like an action hero leaving a trail of destruction behind him. One student sat in a trash can, another stuffed in a locker, and a third knocked out and laid over a tree branch like a piece of decoration. Shujin had nothing but busy work for someone as naturally skilled as Yusuke. Even its bullies couldn't slow him down.
Alas, Yusuke couldn't do everything at the highest level. Leaving Futaba alone was necessary, or else she would see his violent side. He wanted to spare her the sight of the carnage, though he knew she would've cheered him on if she could.
After defeating such meager opponents, only two things remained on Yusuke's mind: using the bathroom, and making sure Futaba left the Culture Festival with a smile on her face. He owed her for how many containers of instant noodles she'd gifted him after the completion of their art project a month prior.
Yusuke maneuvered through the crowds like an assassin in search of a target. Any bathroom would do, gender restrictions be damned.
Instead of his target, Yusuke saw a friendly face.
"Yusuke?" Ren said as they walked past each other. He flipped directions and began following Yusuke at his side. "How're you doing? Uh… is that blood on your shirt?"
Yusuke looked down; little flecks of red stained the bottom of his white shirt. Goodness. I suppose it's just another reason to go to the bathroom, he thought.
"I am splendid. It is naught but paint."
"Okay… anyway, how's the festival been? And where's Futaba? Your text said-" Yusuke's text said many things, but it did not say the location of Futaba. He hadn't the slightest idea where Ren found the audacity to put words in his text messages.
Yusuke recalled the exact wording of his message. "Good evening, my Lord of GRAVY-esque Goodness. I came across Futaba in front of your school struggling with all the people. We decided to spend the evening on our own without the usual chaos of a GRAVY congregation. I hope you understand." Nothing about the text sounded unusual to Yusuke's memory, so he remained confused as to why Ren brought it up.
"She is in the courtyard. Thank you for not pressing the subject earlier. I believe she's had a better evening because of it," Yusuke said, walking around a group of girls who'd stopped walking, formed a circle in the middle of the hall, and gossiped about pointless things. Ren followed behind, then caught up as soon as they passed the ringed interruption to the flow of traffic.
"That's good. Ann and I were kinda bummed you guys didn't get to see what we set up. There's this guy in my class, Ozaki, who-"
Yusuke knew he had to intervene. "Sh sh shhhh, Ren. Please do not spoil tomorrow's festivities for the audience."
"What?"
"How is Makoto?"
"Oh… she's good. I haven't seen her tonight. I've been busy running the-"
"Spoilers, Ren!"
"Sorry. My fault." Ren must've been as confused as Yusuke. He did not know why interrupted, only that he had to. "Makoto's been busy with her class's room, too, so we haven't talked since before the Festival really kicked off. Actually, you're the first person from GRAVY not named Ann that I've seen tonight."
"What about our dear Haru?"
"Busy."
"Unfortunate."
"Quite." Ren took a few more steps with Yusuke, basking in the awkwardness of the fizzling conversation. "Well, Yusuke, I've gotta get back to it. There's a bo-"
"Spoilers."
"Right. Anyway, see you later." Ren turned himself around and walked in the opposite direction.
Again, Yusuke was alone on the hunt for the bathroom. Shujin's narrow, crowded hallways were a shame on the administration, especially when compared to Kosei. Yusuke felt a weird sense of pride that he went to the objectively superior school, but he didn't fault any of his Shujin friends for it. In due time, they would come to understand Kosei's greatness alongside Yusuke.
Finally, after parting so many friend groups down the middle and getting so many grumbles, Yusuke saw a blue sign indicating the men's room. He followed along the wall of lockers and ducked into the bathroom.
Sweet, sanguine release . Yusuke's mind went blank as he stood at the sink and relieved himself. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the wonderful feeling of relief in its purest, most condensed form. The strong stream of liquid echoed through the bathroom as Yusuke washed his hands, finally relieving himself from the spicy sauce that got trapped in his picked cuticles.
So, so many germs must've stuck themselves in the cracks of Yusuke's hands, and under his fingernails, and everywhere else, but he washed them all away. Ryuji's mononucleosis-inspired germaphobia motivated Yusuke to live a similar life; one where washing his wands was the ultimate form of release.
The other sink started, prompting Yusuke to open his eyes and see just who dared to interrupt his wonderful moment. While continuing to feel his hands up with soap and water, Yusuke turned his head. "Good evening," he said to a glasses-wearing man with a rugged brown coat.
The man didn't realize he was being spoken to. Were bathroom conversations so out of the ordinary at Shujin? If so, Yusuke had to infiltrate the school's administration and make a few changes for the betterment of the world at large.
Again, Yusuke struck up a conversation. "Good evening, sir. Are you enjoying the festival?"
One cautious head turn and one hand wave under the soap dispenser later, Yusuke had made first contact. "Er… yes. You?"
"Most definitely. I-"
"Sorry, this may be strange, but are you Yusuke Kitagawa?"
Caught off guard, Yusuke analyzed the man to the best of his ability. He may have been shady and his information had no reasonable source, but… they were brothers. They washed hands together and hid from the Festival crowd in the bathroom together. They even conversed while soaping their fingers—how much tighter could their bond be?
"I am."
"So you're Futaba's friend… I'm Takuto Maruki, her therapist. Any friend of hers is a friend of mine."
"Any therapist of hers is a therapist of mine."
"Well, that's not exactly-"
"I jest."
"O-oh, good one." Maruki let out a chuckle, but Yusuke knew it was fake. He switched the faucet off and withdrew from the sink, waving his hands beneath the air dryer. The vacuum-esque sound overpowered whatever Maruki, who continued washing his hands like the cleanly person he seemed to be, wanted to say.
Yusuke pulled his hands back. He could leave the bathroom, find Futaba, and escape from the God-forsaken place that was Shujin Academy, but… something kept him in that bathroom standing next to Maruki.
"Maruki-san, what are you doing at this festival? Supervising students?"
"Partaking in the fun." Maruki finished up his own routine of cleanness. Instead of the air dryer, he went for the paper towels. "You're not a Shujin student, are you?"
One's preference between paper towels and air dryers says a lot about them, Yusuke thought as he watched Maruki wipe the moisture off his hands.
"No, I attend class at Kosei. We do not have a festival because of the difference in funding."
"Unfortunate. I've noticed quite a bit of…" Maruki tossed his paper towel in the trash, turning around to face Yusuke and actually converse. His head bobbed side to side, weighing what words best fit his idea. "Preferential allocation of funds since I began working here. But enough of the boring money stuff. You're the only Kosei student I've seen tonight."
We are a rare breed , Yusuke thought.
"My peers are too studious for an excursion like this during the week. I, on the other hand, had business to attend to here."
Maruki raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"
"Saving the world from the malicious and benevolent forces that wish to control it."
Maruki's hesitation towards Yusuke vanished somewhere along the way. Instead of the usual concerned looks that Yusuke drew from people who didn't personally know him, Maruki laughed. "A little benevolence never hurt anyone."
"What about self-righteous benevolence?"
Maruki brought his hand to his face, grabbing his glasses by their frame and pulling them from his nose. He wiped the lenses on his shirt but didn't put them back on. To Yusuke, he looked like a different man without his visual aids.
"Kitagawa-kun, you are by far the most interesting person I've ever spoken to in a bathroom."
That implies that he rarely speaks to others in the bathroom. What is a bathroom if not a place for conversation? I wonder… Unfortunately, Yusuke didn't have much time to wonder. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he knew who was texting him.
"My apologies, Maruki-san, but I must rank you sixteenth out of the seventy-one bathroom conversations I've had." Maruki laughed yet again, showing a strange comfortableness with Yusuke when most adults barely tolerated him. "I also must take my leave; my friends beckon me with virtual messages."
"Go have your fun then," Maruki said, smiling and waving his hand toward the door.
Yusuke obliged, walking towards the door without thinking twice.
"Yusuke, you probably don't get it, but you were a great friend tonight. Thanks." Futaba could barely believe the words that came out of her mouth. Her usual frantic, fast tone that rushed to get every word out before her next breath slowed down to unfiltered honesty. "And thanks for carrying my garbage bag."
Yusuke, garbage bag of goodies slung over his shoulder, made eye contact while walking forward. It impressed Futaba so much that his path down Shujin's front steps didn't deviate that she almost forgot to pay attention to his words. "It was my pleasure. Did you enjoy your evening?"
I've never felt more embarrassed than I did tonight, Futaba thought. But I don't regret coming, and I don't regret hiding in that corner until Yusuke found me. Shujin may not be a great place full of great people, and that's fine. It just means that I could never fit in here, and that's for the best.
Futaba, smile on her face and her eyes lighting up her glasses, hopped off the last step to emphatically hit the ground of Shujin Academy's main gate.
"Sure, I enjoyed the pleasantly platonic evening."
A/N: Had to cut the chapter in half because I enjoyed writing it so much that the scenes kinda just extended themselves. The second half of the chapter will be posted on Thursday next week as its own chapter and will cover the festival's second day, Ren's revenge, and Teddie. Anyway, I'm really happy with this chapter. Cutting it in half gave it a lot more cohesiveness as a chapter that exists outside of GRAVY. Plus, getting to write nearly an entire chapter from Futaba's perspective was much more fun than I expected.
Hope you guys enjoyed, and thanks for reading. Like I said above, the second part of this chapter will be out in a week. See you then!