Saturday, 11/12

Ryuji's body protested every step he took, but he was a man on a mission. No snivels, aches, or excess phlegm could stop him from getting to Shujin and delivering his girlfriend her birthday gift which protruded over his shoulder from its sheer size.

The only thing that could delay him was a late subway arrival. He waited for five minutes, repeatedly promised a subway arriving within the next minute, and got nothing. With Ann's massive present—wrapped in the most stylish paper he could afford after paying so much for the present—he waited, receiving look after look from adults annoyed by the bright colors.

It's a bit weird to see someone with a giant pink present on their back, but they can eff off with their judging. Ryuji's medical mask gave him some protection from their judgment, too, hiding his snot-flooded nose from the rest.

The past two days were difficult, to say the least. An illness worse than his entire experience with mononucleosis befell him, keeping him home the day prior. The aches got worse and the phlegm got thicker, but how could he stay home on his girlfriend's birthday? He owed her his presence and the gift.

His phone buzzed in his pocket with an incoming call. He answered the video call, angling his camera so that the present wasn't too noticeable on his back.

"Ryuji," Makoto said from the other end. She looked healthy and normal, more than prepared for the school day ahead. Additionally, she was already at Shujin—her background looked like the student council room. "Where are you?"

"Be there soon, prez. Is Ann waitin' for me?"

"No, she—well, she is—but you cannot come to school today."

The phlegm in Ryuji's throat protested first, rising out in a wet cough that prompted a few people waiting for the subway with him to step away. Makoto recoiled through the phone. "Woah woah woah, prez! It's her birthday!"

"I know, but you're unwell. Please don't risk the health of others. You can give Ann that present," Ryuji noticed how poorly hid the present from the camera—pink was too easy to see, "another day. Take care of yourself."

"B-but—!"

"Stay home or else I will kick you down Shujin's steps. Have a good day, Ryuji."

He couldn't argue with her. Horribly sick, going anywhere near another Shujin student violated the student handbook and was a plain old dickhead move. The gift he carried was just a gift at the end of the day—when Ann received it didn't matter. It would hurt to miss her birthday at school, but he could always call and plan a reunion for as soon as his sickness left.

They hung up without another word and Ryuji was free to leave the subway station. His feet carried him home faster than they took him there, mostly because his spine begged to be relieved of the weight on his back. The present itself was not heavy but enduring its small weight, and the hunching posture it required, for an extended period of time would exhaust anybody.

Ryuji turned the corner and strolled up the path to his house. His back got straighter and the phlegm thinned; his breathing eased as he arrived home. A few jiggles of the key in the lock later and there he was in the entrance to his home.

"Ryuji?" his mom called from the other room. He heard her footsteps getting louder. "What are you…?"

Ryuji took his medical mask off and set it on the counter next to the door. He slid his feet out of his shoes and readied himself for a relaxing sick day, one free of the guilt he felt at that moment, hopefully.

"Young man, why are you home?!"

He swung the present off his back and carried it under his arm as he brushed past his mother, dismissing her sternness because she would see reason as soon as he explained. "Ma, I'm sick as an Arctic swimmer. I can't endanger my classmates by—"

"Young man!" Ryuji's hope for his mother to agree flew out the window when she screamed at him. He spun around, hitting Ann's present on the couch without noticing—he had to focus on something much more important. "No son of mine will miss out on a friend's birthday, let alone a girlfriend's! That girl has given so much to you, and you want to skip her birthday?!"

"Ma, it ain't—"

"Ma this, ma that. You're going to school, Ryuji, and you're giving her that sword, or stick, or whatever the eff it is. End of story!"

I got Makoto on one shoulder telling me to stay home, and I got Ma on the other pushing me out the door. Ryuji's two guides weren't comparable, and there was no competition for priority. Silently, Ryuji strapped the present back over his shoulder and grabbed his shoes from the door. He fitted the mask to his face.

"Bye, Ma, I love you!"

"Love you, too, sweety. Don't let anything stop you from giving Ann-chan her present!"

Ryuji's back hurt, but what was pain in the face of orders from his mother and the promise of seeing Ann? He only got faster the closer he got to Shujin. By the time he turned the corner onto the narrow street that took him to Shujin's gate, he was an Olympic speed-walker, ready to obliterate any competition in a walking-restricted mall on Black Friday.

When he got close enough, he stopped. Not because Ann was waiting for him with open arms or because his courage vanished or because he had to sneeze—no, Ryuji saw a threat.

Toru the Tank guarded Shujin's gate, meaning that class was in session and no one would be late without him escorting them to the principal for a lecture and a mark on the record first. He was a beefy man, a former sumo wrestler some said, that could defend the gates from an entire class single-handedly. Ryuji admired the man's bright fashion that just had to be custom-made because he was too effing big to find it anywhere else.

I'm here for gift delivery, not to go to class. I'm sick, but I ain't stupid , Ryuji thought. Getting too close to Toru would get him dragged by the ear to Kobayakawa. Staying away meant he couldn't get into Shujin and would leave Ann in tears over her horrible boyfriend who didn't care enough to see her on her birthday.

So, Ryuji kept his distance and ducked into the vending machine nook in Shujin's wall, pulling out his phone immediately. He dialed the first person he thought of.

"Yo. I need your help breakin' into Shujin."

"That has been on my jar list for quite some time. Allow me the five most minute minutes of your life and I will be at your side, friend."

"The eff is a—" Halfway through the sentence, Ryuji made the connection between 'jar' and 'bucket'. "Whatever. Meet me at the vending machines, and make sure you don't pass the front gate!"

"Hold your effin' hands steady!" Ryuji grunted. His hands clung to the top of Shujin's wall and Yusuke's hands shakily held Ryuji's feet up. An extra foot or two and Ryuji could hoist himself up. "Just a bit more, c'mon…"

"You may be too fat for this."

"Fat?" Ryuji's eyes got over the wall. He saw all of Shujin's floors, including their rows of windows. One of those had to have Ann on the other side. "I'm all muscle!"

Whoever sees me right now has a great story to tell, but nobody will ever believe them. Nobody's ever climbed the wall, Ryuji thought. His fingers dug into the other side of the wall. A bit more force from Yusuke and that would do it—he'd be free to give Ann her present.

"My shoulders cannot—" Yusuke panted and his hands shook, a movement that rippled up Ryuji and slid his grip around the top of the wall. He would've shot Yusuke a death stare from above if he weren't so focused on not falling and cracking his head open. "I cannot support your weight, no matter your body mass index!"

"The eff is with the big wo—agh!"

The hands dropped out beneath Ryuji and his view of Shujin vanished, replaced by the rush of descending back to earth. Luckily, Yusuke was available to catch his weight, not support it. Ryuji landed in a heap atop his weak-armed friend, saving him a few broken bones and some dignity.

"My apologies," Yusuke said as they both got up and dusted off their pants. "Perhaps if we went to lunch and you purchased a proteinaceous slab of beef for me, I could hold—"

"Nope. Not enough muscle on your bones." Ryuji pushed his hands into his back until his spine croaked. "We're gonna have to do it the old-fashioned way."

"Would you like me to seduce Tank-san?"

"Wha— uh… No. Don't worry about seducing anyone."

"Are you sure? It has been too long since my talent for romance has been utilized."

"I think the world can wait a little longer." Ryuji patted Yusuke on the shoulder. "Listen, I got a different plan in mind…"

"Taro!"

Ryuji peeked around the corner of the nook and watched Yusuke approach the front gate, his hand on his hip as if he were a samurai ready to slash out at any moment.

Taro the Tank turned his head not by moving his neck, but by spinning his whole body.

"Your breath sullies the morning air and your lack of honor disgraces these school grounds! Long have I waited for this opportunity for revenge, so I shall savor it!"

"Move along, ki—"

"What you did to my family brought me to you. My wife, my son—gone by your orders."

"Listen, I'm just a security guard trying to—"

"Do not speak, for it offends me! Listen to your charges and face your guilt, then you may defend yourself!" Yusuke finally closed the gap and stood face to face with Taro, dwarfed by the massive man. Despite the size difference, Yusuke was the one doing the intimidating, though Taro seemed more perplexed than scared. "Justice has forgotten your crimes, but I have not!"

"Kid, you oughta—"

"And so, for the murder of my family and for the evasion of true justice, I sentence you to death at my hands!" Yusuke reached up, held his hand in front of Taro's face, and booped him on the nose. "Unless you wish to test fate via a duel!"

"Right…" Taro put his hands on his hips. "That's it—you're dead."

Yusuke broke character and split away to sprint down the narrow street, Taro the Tank rolling after him.

The triumph came with a new feeling for Ryuji, one of being the smartest person on that street. His plan working was a validation not only of his intelligence but of his goal. He'd come so far because his objective was unquestionably honorable and anything holding him back would be obliterated by his will, his commitment, and his intellect.

He turned the corner of Shujin's gate and climbed the steps. The present was light on his back as he entered the school.

Ren wished Ann's birthday meant more to the rest of Shujin. GRAVY had a small celebration planned for lunch, but the rest of the school gave Ann nothing but a normal day. By proxy, Ren also got a normal day filled with boring lectures, whispers behind his back, and the monotony of waiting for the lunch bell to ring.

He looked at the clock.

Another half hour…

Usually, his favorite way to pass time was to imagine a scenario where he triumphed over Futaba in a game of Rash Toes. Because it seemed so impossible, it took quite a bit of effort to imagine. Each time he lost himself in that thought, his eyes drifted and his posture slumped—it must have been obvious to Kawakami that he wasn't present.

And so, Ren fantasized about Captain Hawk uppercutting Solid Rake off the stage and into oblivion as many times as he could. Kawakami's lecture faded into the background, replaced by the animated punches of virtual fighters. Ren saw his teacher's lips moving, but he couldn't hear.

His eyes drifted around the room. Captain Hawk dashed across the window, slid across the blackboard's tray, and slammed onto a desk near the door. A heat-seeking missile from Solid Rake chased Captain Hawk, getting closer and closer as time went on, but Captain Hawk had a plan to escape.

He shot up the doorway and Hawk Punched a hole in the little glass window at its center, diving out a moment later. The missile crashed into the door and—

The fantasy stopped when Ren's vision came into focus.

Uh… What's he doing here?

On the other side of the door's intact window was Ryuji Sakamoto, masked and burdened with a pink thing on his back like an adventurer's sword. He made eye contact with Ren, waving at him and jumping up and down as if he didn't already have his attention.

Does he want me to talk to him?

Ren looked around the room. Nobody else noticed Ryuji, all of the students focused on Kawakami or on their phones. Kawakami herself didn't notice—she was occupied with writing a paragraph on the blackboard.

I'm surprised Ann's not bored enough to let her eyes wander a bit and see Ryuji, but hey, whatever.

Back at the door, Ryuji was emphatically waving Ren to come out and join him. Ren looked back and forth between Ryuji and Kawakami, awaiting one to notice the other and escalate the situation, but it never came. Ryuji wouldn't stop beckoning until Ren joined him, it seemed.

Ren raised his hand.

"Yes, Amamiya-kun?"

"May I use the bathroom, Sensei?"

Kawakami's face contorted. Her eyes closed, her forehead stretched, and her lips pursed. She set the chalk down and looked at Ren. "No, you may not. Because of your club taking so many unnecessary bathroom breaks lately, I've been instructed to keep you in class until the bell. Understand?"

I'm not even mad—it's kinda awesome that there are GRAVY-specific mandates now. We're discussed at faculty meetings!

"Yes, Sensei."

"Good." Kawakami turned her back on the class, picked up her chalk, and continued where she left off. "Now, when we find that—"

Ren shot out of his seat and sprinted for the door. He heard Kawakami's lecture hitch and stop, but no protest came because he escaped the room so swiftly. The door slammed shut behind him, likely silencing a room of amazed gasps from his peers.

"Damn, you're faster than I thought," Ryuji said, his voice thin and weak. Ren knew he was sick from the mask, but hearing Ryuji's condition reinforced it as reality.

"I saw a friend in need."

"Yeah, okay." Ryuji looked past Ren, through the window into the room. "Is Ann coming?"

"What?"

"I was doing sign language for you to bring Ann out here!"

"No the fuck you weren't!"

"Dude!" Ryuji repeated his gestures, folding his arms over his chest, turning his hands counter-clockwise, and interlocking his fingers. "Why the Hell would I want to talk to you and only you on Ann's effin' birthday?!"

"I don't know, that's why I came out here!"

"So Ann ain't joining us?"

"No!"

"Well, shit." Ryuji spun around, taking steps away from Ren as he considered what to do. Ren set up against lockers next to Classroom 2-D's door, leaning against them and crossing his arms. "Could ya go back in and get her?"

"As soon as I—"

The door opened. "Ren, I've had it up to here with your bull—Sakamoto-kun!" Ryuji jumped as Kawakami closed the distance on him. "What are you doing outside of class?!"

"I… Uh…" He mumbled nonsense. "I was bringing my girlfriend a birthday present."

"I'll be happy to confiscate it, then, because you've interrupted my class while skipping your own." She reached to his shoulder to grab the pink-wrapped object, but Ryuji backed away.

"Dude, what the eff? This ain't for you!"

"Give me the—" Kawakami grabbed at it again, Ryuji slapped her hand away.

She tried again, continuing the cycle of Ryuji backing off or smacking her hand. "You're not taking my girlfriend's…" He stopped backing up and she stopped pressing him. His face lifted, his eyes closed, and his mouth must have opened under his mask. "Ah… Ah…"

"Sakamoto-kun, I won't ask again." Kawakami reached one last time. "Give me the—"

"Achoo!"

Kawakami recoiled from the atomic sneeze. The elastic bands on Ryuji's ears snapped from the force and the mask fell to the ground, the faint yellow of snot staining its inside. Ren grimaced.

This is absurd. Thank God I don't know Ryuji's sign language, or else Ann would be mixed up in this.

His teacher had not recovered from the contamination and still held her hands to her awestruck face. Ren saw no evidence of the sneeze on her, but germs moved in mysterious ways, especially with such a powerful sneeze.

"Sakamoto!" she yelled. "How dare you—"

Ryuji took the present off his shoulder. "My bad, please don't get any angrier." He took the item in both hands and offered it to the teacher like a blacksmith bestowing a katana on a samurai. "Sorry."

Sneezing on someone is insanely disrespectful. I don't blame Ryuji for feeling so guilty that he gave up on his task.

"Ugh." Kawakami wiped her face with her hand, then snatched the present. She held it at her side but did not leave the scene. "Sakamoto-kun," she said, nostrils flaring and her face red. "You are not fit for class today. Go home and do not return until you are healthy."

He was already walking away when he spoke. "Yes, Sensei." Ryuji disappeared around the corner a second later, disappointingly compliant with the present getting confiscated.

"As for you, Amamiya-kun," Kawakami said, getting Ren's eyes back on her, "I'm sick of you leaving class like this and that mandate I mentioned expects me to report this incident to the principal."

"Sensei, ple—"

"But I don't have to do that. They don't pay me enough to worry about things like that, so you will." The implication crept up Ren's spine until Kawakami's wants dawned on him. "Order Becky tomorrow or els—"

"Sensei, I'm so fucking broke, please don't—"

"Or else Kobayakawa learns about Ryuji resisting the confiscation of a prohibited item and about your newest instance of leaving class."

"Prohibited item?" Ren gestured to the present, looking at it closely to try and gauge what it was. Something long and thin, but Ryuji's god-awful wrapping job made it difficult to see specifics. "You don't even know what it is."

"I'm seventy percent sure it is a weapon of some kind."

"You think he bought a katana for Takamaki? Come on. Get real."

"Your objections won't make me un-confiscate it."

"Fine, keep it. I don't care. Do I really have to order B—"

"Yes. Go back to class and sit quietly while I take this to the faculty office." Kawakami waved the present at him before she turned away and walked down the hall.

Damn… I shouldn't have expected Kawakami to take pity on my lack of money. Part of me is starting to doubt her as a teacher. She's blackmailed me, makes me order her from a sex worker service, and takes Ann's birthday present. One of those isn't that bad in the grand scheme of things, but still!

Ren admired the lockers a few seconds more before he obeyed Kawakami's orders. Walking back into the classroom was an exercise in coming down from an adrenaline rush. The eerie silence was nothing compared to the chaos that occurred in the hall, but Ren felt a hundred times more uncomfortable. Eyes and whispers followed him to his seat where Ann waited, her arm resting on the back of her chair as she turned around.

"What was that about?"

"Well," Ren said, sighing out his financial concerns, "Your boyfriend delivered your birthday present to the door, signaled me to come out, got in a fight with Kawakami, then sneezed on her." Ren let the silence sit so Ann could know he was telling the truth. When Ann's lips parted and her disbelief faded, Ren added the most important part. "The present got confiscated, by the way."

"Christ…"

"But yeah, that's a story you didn't hear from me. I've been sitting quietly and reviewing class materials since I got back, right?"

Ann rolled her eyes. "Right." She started to turn back around.

"Oh, I almost forgot." He stopped her halfway. "Happy birthday."

"Here," Haru said when she handed a large wrapped box to Ann. "From Futaba, Yusuke, and I."

Ann's curiosity was piqued at the mention of Yusuke. Any gift from him could be insultingly weird or surprisingly heartwarming. The box—wrapped with the finest, most biodegradable paper—came undone quickly from Ann tearing into it.

"Aw, thanks…" Ann said, rotating the box in her hand until its front side met her eyes.

It's an interesting choice to get her an air fryer. More importantly, that's masterful execution of the I-give-you-a-gift-that-I'll-use-most-because-I-live-with-you tactic. Wonderfully done.

It was the first of multiple gifts in GRAVY's lunchtime celebration of Ann. They found shelter from onlookers and gift snatchers in the student council room. Those in attendance—Ren, Makoto, Ann, and Haru—sorely missed Ryuji, but they made do without his undoubtedly incredible gift.

With Haru's present opened, Ren and Makoto's was left. A bit smaller in size and with enough space inside to get a nice rattle when shaken, their box was wrapped in Buchimaru paper because it was all they had on hand at the time.

"From me and Ma—" Ren coughed. "Me and Morgana." A few chuckles, including one from Makoto, preceded Ann tearing the wrapping paper Ren and Makoto worked so hard on. One barrier after that and the small box was opened to unveil the gift.

"Wow…" Ann laughed, holding the item up to the light so she could make sure her eyes weren't lying. The more she looked, the more she laughed.

Hard not to be proud of a gift like that.

Much deliberation about what to get Ann led Ren and Makoto to search their memories, mental and digital, to find a moment for Ann to recall in gift form. Makoto's camera roll had the perfect moment: Ryuji and Ann next to each other on Haru's boat, mid-argument. Even better, it was mid-slap—Ryuji must've said something only he could say, prompting Ann to slap Ryuji at the perfect time to be caught on camera.

Now, Ryuji's rippling face and Ann's delight were framed for a spot in her room.

"I love it," Ann said. "Thank you for these, seriously. I'll air fry whatever I can and I'll show this to Ryuji every chance I get." She stopped—there wouldn't be a chance for a while. "Ryuji probably can't come tonight…"

GRAVY Saturday, planned for Ann's that evening, was missing a core contributor. Without Ryuji, where would the energy come from? Plus, proceeding as planned while Ryuji couldn't come would be hurtful to him. Ren knew it too well from his hometown friends toward the end of his old life.

Knowing that people, your friends, are actively hanging out without you is the worst feeling ever. It ruins whatever game you're wasting your time on and it makes all the food in the fridge look like shit. If it's up to me, tonight is canceled.

"We could postpone the celebration for another Saturday," Haru said.

Ann nodded. "Yeah… I don't want Ryuji to miss out. We can spend tonight, I don't know, air frying things?"

"Sounds like fun," Ren said, smirking. He felt a bit jealous of the air fryer but knew that if one was gotten for him it would never be used because there wasn't much to cook with it.

Ann smiled. She leaned into the banter, faking an argument with an offended hand on her chest. "It will be! I think—" An unsilenced phone rang and cut the joke off. Each person checked their phone, only to set them down when Ann spoke up again with her phone in front of her.

"Happy birthday, Ann!" a voice called through the phone.

"Aw, Shiho… Thanks!"

"It's lunch, right? I'm not interrupting any—"

"No, no, you're fine. We're actually doing some gift-giving right now." Ann turned the phone around the table, prompting awkward waves from Haru, Makoto, and Ren in order. Shiho waved back through the phone. "I got those flowers you sent—thank you so much!"

"That's not the only gift I have for you," Shiho teased.

Ann raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Has anyone ever discussed how awkward a scenario like this is? We're sitting around a table watching Ann video chat with her friend—extremely weird. I mean, go Ann, it's your birthday. But damn do I feel uncomfortable watching and listening. People from a hundred years ago are so lucky not to experience this kind of stress. It's not like I can start talking to Makoto or Haru; it'd interrupt her call. I'm forced into spectatorship.

"It's still in transit, maybe another twenty to thirty business days, so I'll tell you what it is now," Shiho said. "My gift to you is… Me!"

"Excuse me?"

"My winter break starts before yours—I'm coming to Tokyo the first week of December."

"Oh my god, really?!"

"Yes!"

Ren's discomfort increased from the giddy squeals and giggles that Ann should've aged out of when the date changed to her birthday. He tried not to rain on the parade by pinching his legs instead of covering his ears.

"We'll go to this new spot in Kichijoji that has the best takoyaki, then we'll…" A month-long itinerary ensued and Ren could only watch. It was still awkward of course, but seeing Ann delight in planning her reunion with her best friend was enough for his comfort to not matter to him.

Sunday, 11/13

Ren wished that the maid service wasn't so well-run. Within a half hour of his call, his wait was over and Becky knocked on his door. The guilt hurt, especially the long stare Morgana gave when Ren got up to answer the door, but his wallet hurt more.

He opened it expecting the same professionalism he got over the phone.

Kawakami pushed right past him, not introducing herself as Becky or naming her employer, and dropped onto the couch. "Ugh…" she groaned face-first into the pillows. Her maid outfit was the same as ever, yet her persona had vanished.

Ren closed the door. "You alright, Sensei?" Snot hindered her breaths, audible through the pillows. Ren stopped walking toward his teacher and rerouted to the kitchen to pour a glass of water for her. "Ah, sick? Seems like karma for taking that present."

Kawakami's nostrils found clarity. "Fuck off." She rolled over on the couch and coughed into a new cushion, Hell bent on contaminating every inch of Junpei's furniture. "I'm not cleaning anything for you, by the way."

"When have you ever fulfilled the services I pay for?"

Kawakami didn't answer, only groaning more and more. Whatever sickness Ryuji gave her with the sneeze seemed debilitating, which raised the all-important question: was Ren sick, too?

I'm in the best shape of my life from all the sweating I do when Futaba and I play Rash Toes—I'm completely fine. Un-infectable, one could say.

"Mmmph… Be quiet for a minute. I need to make a call." Kawakami's arm found her phone somewhere in the fluffed-up mess of her uniform and dialed a number. Ren waited a safe distance away with her glass of water and tissues, not wanting to get near in case a sneeze lurked. "Chouno-san? Yes, this is Sadayo. I'm feeling awful tonight and I don't think I'm gonna make it to tomorrow's faculty meeting. Could you grab my—no, I'm not doing this to screw you over. Yes. Uh-huh. Well, I'll take note of that for the next time I fall ill. Have a nice night." Kawakami tossed her phone to the floor. "God, what a bitch."

Ren dared to venture into the splash zone. "Is this the part where I agree and provide a supporting anecdote for your coworker being a bitch?"

"Please don't talk. My head hurts." She squinted up at Ren, pupils narrow because of the light behind his head. Still, she managed to get her hand around the water glass. Ren set the tissues along the ridge of the couch and backed off, retreating to the dining table Junpei was yet to pick up.

"I paid good money for you to be here, you could at least have a conversation with me."

"Ugh."

"I fell in the score rankings for the midterms. How about some tutoring?"

"Screw your scores, Amamiya. There's a hummingbird in my skull and—" She coughed into her uniform. "And I will projectile vomit before I leave your apartment."

"But I can't kick you out because you have to be here for the time I paid for, right?"

Kawakami tried to swallow all the mucus and choked up another cough. "R-right."

"Might as well talk, then." He crossed his arms. "What'd Chouno have to say?"

"She said that the world doesn't revolve around me and I'm not the only one on staff that's sick. I mean, how is that my problem? If they feel as shitty as me, they can take a day off, too! I'm not stopping them."

"Wait, who else is sick?"

"Who knows, what's it matter?"

"It matters because I'm going to school tomorrow."

Kawakami shrugged. Her eyes were closed and her body had sunk an inch into the cushions—she'd pass out soon from exhaustion if Ren's conversation didn't captivate her enough. "Skip class like you always do."

"I don't skip class, I—"

"Go to the bathroom, right… Just don't get up in the morning. It's easier than you think."

"In case you forgot, I'm the last person in the student body that should be skipping class."

She coughed. "O-oh, yeah… Tough situation to be in. I'm doing my best for you, though."

"It's appreciated, but somehow, I doubt that a teacher blackmailing their student to spend hard-earned yen on—"

Kawakami's half-asleep form awoke with a thrashing laugh. "Hard-earned?! You don't know what work is. What's your job?"

"Barista."

"Oh yeah? You need a lot of mental health days from making coffee and—"

"It ain't sex work, but it's honest."

Kawakami smirked. "Oh, fuck you." Still sitting up, she looked down at her situation. Her maid outfit was tucked beneath her, adding extra comfort to her temporary bed, and the pillow she laid her head on had stray hairs from stress. However, her other option for position—sitting up straight and supporting herself on her tired, aching arms that were heavy from the biological war she fought—wasn't much better.

She laid back down.

"I'm not letting you nap for the entire shift."

"Why not?"

"Because I paid too much money for that. At least explain some class concept to me, or some generational issue that isn't around anymore. What about the complex network of imports and exports that we depend on?"

"You are not good at keeping me awake."

"Says the teacher who's most-common action is lecturing. How do you think I feel sitting in that corner listening to you talk about perfect ratios of old buildings or some bullshit about crows?"

"I see your point."

"Then can you change up your lectures for a bit? Do something fun? What if we watched a movie one day? How about a—"

"How about this: find me something strong to drink and I'll let you design a day's lesson. How's that sound?"

She's offering it to me thinking that it's a lose-lose scenario for me—she's assuming that I don't understand the difficulty of planning a lesson and that planning one will make me appreciate her more.

"I think you've used up the extent of my willingness to step out of my comfort zone. The line's gotta be somewhere."

"Not even a drink—just one shot."

"Nope."

"Come on, be a good student? Have some fun."

"Nah, I'm alright." She was going to keep asking unless he gave her something to shut her up. Ren retreated to the kitchen and started work on his plan before he spoke it into existence. "You can have some leftover curry, though."

"I don't want—"

"Beggars can't be choosers, and you're a little too old to whine like that. Then again, you wearing a maid costume and confined to the couch of a fuck-up student. You're far beyond making sense."

"You're so mean!"

"It's a gift." Ren locked eyes with her when she rested her head on the ridge of the couch. Her upper lip shined with her illness—Ren hoped it didn't affect his furniture. "And before you ask for a drink again, there's nothing here except for water. You're out of luck."

"Shit."

Ren stopped entertaining her, taking the plate of slop and setting it in the microwave. It forced him to turn his back on his teacher. Without a line of sight on her, she was free to sneeze and wipe her nose as much as she wanted. Ren prayed that she had enough respect for him to not do that, but she didn't even respect herself.

Beneath the hum of the microwave, Ren heard a phone call connect.

"Iori-san! You probably don't remember me, but I'm at Ren's apartment right now and I need a drink. Can you—"

Ren charged out of the kitchen, screaming at the top of his lungs, "JunpeiDon'tComeShe'sSick!" He punched the phone out of Kawakami's hand. They watched it hit the floor face-up, showing a black screen without an ongoing phone call.

The question is: did Junpei hear me, or am I about to be part of a crowd?

To add insult to yet-to-be-decided injury, punching the phone left Ren a little too deep in the splash zone. Kawakami's face relaxed, tensed, and unleashed a gust of wind into his hand.

"Sorry," she mumbled as she wiped her hand on her nose. "Guess we're even."

Even? I mean, who's keeping score? But… She took thousands of yen from me, occupied and contaminated my couch, refused to clean a single inch of any surface, and she sneezed on me! 'Even' can fuck right off, even if I'm a bit of a jackass when it comes to leaving class when I shouldn't.

Despite how angry he was, Ren didn't want to argue. Both he and Kawakami were upset with one another and fulfilling that anger would sour the most advantageous relationship he'd ever had with a teacher. He returned to the kitchen and sat quietly at the counter while Kawakami coughed a lung onto his floor. Time would tell if Junpei the apothecary would arrive with—

The doorbell rang.

Curse his speed and responsiveness. Where was this timeliness when I arrived in Tokyo without one response from him telling me where to go?

Kawakami, because she was utterly useless, didn't move from the couch—she knew that the more time passed without her moving, the more likely Ren was to do the task for her. When the doorbell rang again, she was proven right. Ren grumbled and slid off the stool to get the door for someone who hopefully wasn't Junpei.

While he's here, I'll have him take the dining table. At least something good will come out of this.

The door opened.

"What the fuck are you wearing?"

Ren knew it was a stupid question—it was quite obvious what Junpei was wearing. Some poor ex-government bastard must've pawned off his equipment on Junpei, because where else would Junpei get a complete hazmat suit?

Shiny white with black straps covered Junpei from head to toe. The only skin that showed came through his dimmed goggles, right above the built-in gas mask that filtered Kawakami's germs out of his intake. Ren's favorite part of the outfit was the shoes—short, yellow boots that a child would wear to school on a rainy day. Maybe Junpei didn't get everything from that poor bastard.

"Stand by for decontamination."

"I'm not standing by for—hey!" Ren shut his eyes and shielded his face with his hands from some fluid spray that Junpei had. The moisture on his face stung his eyes and tinted his sense of smell with citrus. "Is that…" The spray stopped. "Is that air freshener?"

"Subject has been cleaned of toxic bacteria. Proceed to target." Junpei's bulky form pushed Ren out of the way on his direct path to the couch. Kawakami, still weak, couldn't sit up straight but she could marvel at the ridiculousness of a drunk man in a hazmat suit.

"You know, maybe I'll pass on that drink. Reality is enough for me."

That's the right way to go about life.

Junpei unsaddled a color-uncoordinated backpack and unzipped it next to the couch. His movements were rigid and efficient as if a robot operated the hazmat suit. A second later, a bottle dangled over Kawakami's head.

"Eh… I'm only human." She snatched the bottle from his gloved hand and got to work on it, finally ending her nonstop snivels and sneezes to replace them with relentless chugging.

As soon as she's done with that, there'll be a sneeze strong enough to make me an alcoholic. Count me out.

As Junpei zipped his bag up and slung it over his shoulder, Ren pointed at him. "Do you have an extra suit?"

"Get your own, kid."

It saddened Ren that nobody could appreciate the simplest of his jokes, but he had learned to expect nothing good out of his evenings anymore. Still, he had one expectation that Junpei could fulfill before he left.

"The least you could do is take the dining table on your way out."

"Nah, keep it."

"It's yours!"

"I don't think so."

"I don't want it!"

"Neither do I."

Junpei strolled out the door and shut it behind him, never to be seen in a hazmat suit again. Ren wondered how willing the building's lobby attendant would be to grant him the security footage of Junpei freaking out whoever he shared the elevator with on the way up.

There was a pop and a sigh as the bottle left Kawakami's face. "Ahh…"

"Now that you've taken a break and had a drink, could you please leave?"

"Huh? Oh… No homework?"

"What?"

"You don't want me to do your homework?"

"Well, if you're offering…"

Perhaps the penmanship of a drunk sex worker was different from his, perhaps not. Either way, Ren wanted to get his money's worth more than he wanted a satisfactory grade on his homework. After reminding Kawakami of her curry in the microwave, he left his notebooks and pencil on the table and left Kawakami alone in the living area, hiding away in his room with the only sane being in the apartment.

Morgana hopped into Ren's lap as he laid down on his bed and pulled out his phone. It would be a long night of scrolling, but at least he didn't have any homework.

A/N: During Makoto's hallucination in the previous chapter, the narration mistakenly says that Ann's birthday is on Monday. The mistake is obvious now that this new chapter is posted, so it's been corrected.

The next three chapters are trilogy of the most self-contained content in TKOSA thus far, and likely until the end of the fic. Because of this, and because of how far they deviate from the usual stuff, I'm rather anxious about them. Instead of working on them one by one and posting them as they're completed, I'll be writing the whole trilogy before the next chapter is posted.

Thanks for reading!