Monday, 11/21

"I almost wish that you threw a punch instead."

"Fighting is played out. Backflips are in."

"And more difficult, evidently," Ann said, adding a little extra force to the icepack she held against Ryuji's head of dampened hair. The towel provided by Kosei's nurse left Ryuji somewhat dry, but there was still plenty of evidence of his dip in the koi pond. "I thought you paralyzed yourself."

"I shoulda… No one laughs at paralyzed people."

The concern and worry Ann felt when Ryuji's neck bent against the dirt must have been nothing compared to the weight of Ryuji's failure, only fattened by the jeering laughs and jokes that had berated him while Ann helped him up and dragged him to the nurse's office. Thankfully, there was no real damage aside from a comical lump on his head.

"Not true. Everyone gets laughed at sometimes." She lifted his hand to the ice pack and transferred the weight to him. The period was nearly over and Ann was expected at her next class. Staying with Ryuji was a valid excuse to not attend... No, she wouldn't be late. Not on the first day. She planned on continuing her recent strengthening of her academics during her time at Kosei, not daring to consider it a vacation.

Ryuji sighed. "Yeah… Man, I coulda had it! If I just tucked—"

"I think that'll be the last flip you ever attempt."

"No deal."

"Okay, compromise: wait until the new year, then you can do a flip."

"Just one flip?"

"Quantity is dependent on the success of the next flip."

"You drive a hard bargain… But I agree. No flips. Because you say so."

"Thank you." Her phone buzzed in her pocket; five minutes to class. "Sorry, Ryuji, I've got somewhere to be. Don't hit your head again while I'm gone." They shared a smile and goodbyes. Ann thanked the nurse, the final time after apologizing for the emergency, and left to journey to Kosei's other wing.

Ugh, why does 'Painting You' have to be so far? Like, I'm not even interested in taking a painting class, I just happened to get signed up for one and it's nowhere near anything else on campus, she thought. It was a drag, sure, but at least she got to see more of the school. Unlike Shujin, Kosei students didn't litter the halls or loiter—they went straight to their next course. Those who remained stood out by their lingering and by the red on their uniforms.

The closer Ann got to her class, the more art adorned the walls. That's a symptom of this being the visual arts side of the school, I guess, she thought. Not that it was a problem; some would consider it overload, but it distracted Ann from feeling rushed and from the human habit of staring at the floor. Her favorite piece, a depiction of a blue human at the center of the universe, was signed in white ink at the bottom right. The sloppy handwriting gave her no chance to know who created the striking piece.

When the bell rang, she forgot all about it. "Shit," she muttered as her pace accelerated. The room she searched for was nowhere in sight, nor were any of the numbers close to the one she sought. More walking, more confusion. "Excuse me? Could you point me to W-Seventeen-B?" she asked a pair of passing Shujin students. "It's the 'Painting You' class if that helps."

One of the students rolled their eyes. "I'm sure you can find it on your own, Takamaki-san." While Ann stopped walking to turn and watch them, they didn't care. Their chuckles carried down the hall even as they gained distance from her.

Transferring to Kosei full-time doesn't seem so bad—at least their students aren't assholes, Ann thought. When the second bell—the reminding bell—rang, she got back to searching. She climbed stairs, hopped railings, left and re-entered multiple buildings, and scanned her ID card before she found Room W-17-B. Not worth it, she thought as she looked through the door's window to the modest classroom.

No chairs, no students—Ann found a ghost town, though it was the ghost town on her schedule. She pushed the door open anyway.

"Welcome."

Oh no. She recoiled from the icy sound of a flat, monotone voice, and wished for her vision of a ghost town to be actualized. Closing her eyes and opening them did not erase the blue-haired specter at the front of the classroom, canvas and paints set up in front of him.

"You!"

"That'd be Yu-suke, but do not worry." He waved his paintbrush at a chair at the center of the classroom. "Please, sit."

"B-but what about the class?! What about my schedule and the—"

"Your class? You are here for 'Painting You', correct?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Then you are in the right place. Did you expect a class titled 'Painting You' to be something other than, well, painting you? That would be foolish, Takamaki-chan."

"The honorific is so weird, Yusuke, seriously. And yeah, I did expect something else. I thought it'd be one of those classes with the generalized title meant to reach out to students or something. You know."

"No, I cannot say I do. Our classes are titled literally. If they were not, it would be quite confusing." Yusuke flicked his paintbrush out again. "Your hesitation to sit has been noted." With a loud inhale, Yusuke set his paintbrush down and rose from the stool, looking taller than and thinner than Ann remembered from his speech that morning. He approached her at the doorway. "Do not be cautious. We are friends, no?"

He had a point. "Y-yeah…" She had a right to be reserved, though. "But why are you teaching? Why is it just me? Why the Hell are you doing everything at this school?"

"Passion, for painting, and to save it. Clear?"

"Um…"

"Splendid." Yusuke took her hand and led her to the center of the room. He didn't ask her to sit down; he put her in the chair and left her, watchfully retreating to his easel set up. The longer he stared, the less sure his artistic vision became. His brow shrank and his eyes left Ann. "You are still uncertain."

She shifted atop the chair. It was wooden and bony—a rarity for Kosei chairs. Around her were far more comfortable places to sit. Why hadn't Yusuke chosen one of those? "How can I not not be?" she asked, raising her voice. Staying quiet wouldn't get her any answers, just take her further into the 'Painting You' curriculum.

"I do not understand."

"This is my first day here and you're throwing me right into this," she said, turning away from Yusuke. Each time she looked at him, she thought of him on stage next to Ren and the laughs she had to contain. His ridiculousness made her truths elusive. "And I don't know… You're not the only one. Stuff is just flung at me, life kinda just happens to me, and ugh… I don't know."

Her birthday came and went. That was typical of all birthdays of course, but each was less eventful than the last. She wondered at what point she would feel no excitement. Her time in 2-D's quarantine was spent waiting, letting her clock tick toward whatever fate had in store for her. Luckily, fate was kind and allowed escape after days, but what if it didn't? Would Ann's inaction have proved to be her undoing?

Dammit, Ann. There you go worrying… she thought, gazing at the only source of light in the room: the glinting window.

"Ah, the Plight of the Model."

Her shoulders straightened when she remembered Yusuke was there. "Excuse me?" At his easel, his hands scurried against the canvas, sketching out something Ann could not see but that she could imagine.

Without removing his focus from the canvas, Yusuke spoke. "You, the model, can only pose, smile, and wait. The continuance of your being is trapped by dependence on someone else: the photographer and his trigger finger."

"When I'm modeling, I guess…" Again, she looked away. Yusuke's sketching grew louder as his strength bore down on the material. "Not my life, though. Who's taking the picture? I mean, I'm out of work!"

"You are out of work because you haven't let your picture be taken. That is what I am doing at this very moment." Perhaps she delayed modeling for Yusuke, perhaps she could never get over how weird he happened to be, perhaps she was simply lazy and liked spending her free time on the couch. "It is sudden, I know, but the most powerful moments are surprises."

The best and the worst moments, she mentally added.

"Doesn't change how overwhelming this school is."

"Which is indicative of learning—growth."

"It's still kind of a pain to deal with all of this, especially after what we've been through. Can't you get that?"

"I got it long ago. Then, I realized that life will not get better—why not embrace the day-to-day difficulty?"

"Because… B-because… Ugh!" Ann didn't realize how hard her fingers dug into her pants until she released the fabric, letting the blood rush back to her fingertips as she stood up. "I hate this. I hate having to go to a new school, I hate waiting for life to do what it wants with us, and I hate that you just have to disagree with me!"

"Disagree? I share your beliefs. Our friend is in peril and what can we do but wait for the cameraman? We are mortal. There are limitations to our being. To break free of our human bindings is critical, yet impossible. Mitigation of our frustration… That is more sensible, I think."

"W-what about the hallucinations or whatever they are? They helped, a-and…" Ann lost her words. Had they helped? Had the hallucinations contributed to their lives in any way except by making them more fearful and cluing them into a deeper plot against Ren? She wished Ren never visited Tae's clinic and learned of her potent concoctions. She wished there wasn't an invisible, silent expectation weighing on her to undergo a trial for the sake of her friends. "Sorry. That was a lie… I don't know what to think anymore."

"Do you fear the clinical trials, Ann?"

The heavy question sat her down and drained the volume from her voice. "I… Maybe. I don't know. I know I don't want to do it."

"Then you don't. I'll take care of it."

"What about—"

"Do not worry about the others. My word is usually enough for them." Yusuke conducted his first brush stroke of paint across the canvas, sending stray spots to the wall behind him. Either he did not notice or he did not care. "As for your concerns about our mutual friend… We would need someone that has surpassed mortality as we know it—someone without our humanity."

Ann rolled her eyes. "Where do you think we'll find this superhuman, Yusuke"

"They'll come in our hour of need if they are as excellent as we assume."

"If you say so…"

"For now, I say to sit still. Your hair shakes quite easily."

Ann grumbled instead of protesting, but Yusuke was right. Conversations about anything that stirred emotion made her less than ideal for being a still model. Slowly, hopefully unnoticeably, she rolled her shoulders back and folded her hands atop her lap. Without any conversing left to do, she planned on letting the photographer click the button.

The door opened and her plans changed; Ann snapped her head to see Makoto storm through the door.

"Yusuke, I need you in the office right now. We have—hello, Ann—we have an integration emergency."

"I see, I see..." Yusuke set down his brush and stood up. "I must assist Niijima-san. You have a free period, Ann. Use it wisely." Makoto glanced at Ann but said nothing to question the class she interrupted. She and Yusuke left in a moment, leaving Ann in the ghost town she wished for.

Alone, except for the canvas Yusuke left behind.

Ann couldn't help herself.

She abandoned the uncomfortable chair (that she planned on never using again) and hesitantly stepped to the easel. Viewing unfinished art is a sin against the artist, right? Her unsureness let her peek at the canvas and its slashes of blue, gray, and red, all swirling around a colorless figure in the center of it all: the epicenter of stillness, the calmness in a storm of chaotic life. Ann had been transformed into the anchoring silhouette in Yusuke's waterfall of tragedy.

What a shame for the artist to leave early; Ann was just warming up to the idea of making true art.

"Niijima. Explain the situation." Yusuke fell into his swivel chair, spun around once to make sure it didn't need adjusting, and scooted into the fine wooden desk of his office. On the other side, Makoto crossed her arms, expecting more professionalism out of one who commanded so much respect.

"Seven Sisters' integration isn't proceeding as well as Kosei's, to say the least…"

It was far from the only incident she had to cover. Her day was spent in and out of classes, mediating unimportant squabbles that rarely involved a Kosei teacher or student. Her few minutes of free time were spent in the office that Kosei provided for guest student council presidents. It was an odd thing to account for, but she didn't complain. Shujin's student council room was a mildly spacious closet in another life—her new office was a penthouse in comparison.

To demonstrate her point, she pressed a button on the phone that Yusuke had on his desk to un-hold the call she transferred.

"Yuriko? I'm here with Yusuke, ready to assist you wi—"

"Makoto!" static screamed, making both of them wince. "Get me the fuck outta here!"

In the vague underbelly of the desperate screams, Makoto heard a man, tired and drained, begging for respect. "Kuramoto-chan, it is a simple math problem. If you can't solve—"

"Help me, Makoto! Pleeeeease!"

Makoto and Yusuke looked at each other, he relented first. "Yuriko, is it possible that you are being held hostage?"

"Wait, who the fuck are you? I'm supposed to be talking to Makoto."

"Hostage or not hostage?"

From the background, "Kuramoto-chan, put the phone away, please… Damn kids these days…"

Makoto could barely pick out a voice to listen to, looking from the phone to Yusuke and then back to the phone as the chaos unfolded.

"Put Makoto on the phone!"

"Put down the phone, Kuramoto!"

"State your distress as a hostage at Seven Sisters High School or clarify your position."

"...Yusuke? Clarify yourself, asshat. I don't need to justify myself to you."

"Phone. Down. Now."

"It is your last chance to clear up the confusion about you being a hostage, Kuramoto-san." Makoto felt the muscles in her face shake, nearly tear, as she was tipped over the edge. "If you do not reveal your status, I must conduct a swift infiltration of Seven—" Even swifter, Makoto grabbed the phone and hung up, slamming it down and tangling the cord in the process. "Niijima, Niijima, Niijima… You've doomed them."

"Can't you take anything seriously?"

Yusuke wasn't meant to answer the question because it wasn't for him, Not entirely, at least. It's always jokes with Yuriko , Makoto thought, lamenting picking up the phone and ever giving Yuriko the benefit of the doubt. As for the remainder of the question, it was pointless. Makoto knew full well that Yusuke was taking it seriously in a way that only Yusuke could.

Or Yusuke took nothing seriously. Perhaps, and maybe even more terrifying, he took everything seriously. Makoto could not imagine him anywhere in the middle of the two landmarks. Is that good or bad? she wondered as she watched Yusuke roll his hands together and plot.

"I am taking the infiltration of Seven Sisters by administration sleeper agents quite seriously, Niijima-san, if you couldn't tell."

Makoto could not tell, but she could sigh.

"Do you care about the students that are having terrible days? That assembly you herded them into, the classes you're forcing on them, and the Kosei attitude you're showing off aren't helping anyone except you."

"You wound me."

"Then do something about it." Makoto face reddened; her forcefulness surprised her more than Yusuke.

"I already have." Yusuke unfolded his hands and opened his desk drawer, revealing a portfolio of graphs, charts, and numbers. "These budget allotments will help our new students thrive."

"You don't need to sell me on a business pitch, Yusuke. There isn't—" One number caught Makoto's eye. She snatched the sheet out of the drawer to eyeball it correctly. "You're spending how much on lunches?!"

"Money is a social construct."

"You'll sink all three schools in debt!"

"No, I will not."

Makoto grabbed more papers, each revealing a figure more alarming than the last. Kosei spent lavish sums on the most inconsequential things, most notably an 'Unnamed Feline Advisor 01'. Makoto prayed for forgery.

"Look at how much money is being spent!"

"You have not seen our earnings."

"And how exactly are you earning the money to cover all six figures you give to a 'Computer Sweeper'?"

"It is flu season."

"...So?"

"So I am abusing the eternal crop that is the reaper."

"Sorry for asking, Yusuke, but…" Makoto should've fought. She should've argued, kicked, screamed, and thrown a tantrum for Yusuke to do right by the stressed students welcomed to the school and by the school's budget. "Ugh. It's your problem."

"You do have a point, Niijima-san."

The last-name usage was insulting. Yusuke, a friend, referred to her respectfully because he posed as someone who took their job seriously. Considering that Yusuke was doing the exact opposite of that, Makoto's blood boiled at each "Niijima-san."

"There is a great emotional weight, cumbersome to each new student, that I have not properly accounted for. Each and every one of them deserves my attention and care. They must know how seriously I take their education. " Yusuke reached over to his desk phone and held a button. "Could you please add an 'Assembly of Hugs' to the itinerary, Ishikawa-san?"

"Right away, sir," responded a static woman.

Yusuke relented from the button, eyes keen on Makoto while expecting a change in attitude.

She didn't really care about assemblies, though.

"You have a secretary?"

"No—a principal."

"God, I can't stand this… I'm leaving. Maybe I'll make a difference, maybe not." She stood up and started walking to the door. "Maybe you should help out, Yusuke."

"Oh, Niijima-san?"

"Yes?"

She heard the sliding wood of Yusuke's desk drawer opening. "Could you swing by Amamiya's office and drop this off?" Makoto turned around and flinched against the door. The unholy, ungodly object in Yusuke's hand… "This just arrived for him."

It was a picture of Ren in a suit.

A faculty picture.

The demon in the picture, the false character in the suit couldn't be Ren. A suit? A well-lit, professionally taken photo? He looked weathered and respected, like a long-time member of a tight-knit school staff, not the spontaneous, unserious, verbally egregious person that he was.

"Sorry… I-I've got a meeting, I-I think."

Lying was never her strong suit. Still, Yusuke shrugged and set the metal-framed photo on his desk for the next unlucky lackey that stumbled into his office. "Off you go then," Yusuke said, waiving Makoto out the door.

She expected silence on the other side; she expected reprieve from the onslaught of unbelievability. Peace and quiet were likely, at least she assumed until she walked right into another friend.

"Haru? What are you—"

"I was looking for you. Your office was empty, so I figured Yusuke would know…" Haru peered past Makoto at the door to Yusuke's office. "It seems that I caught you on your way out. Is everything okay?"

"Yes, fine… Just Yusuke being Yusuke. Making things difficult." Maybe he was making things better. That possibility existed, Makoto could not deny it. "I think." But she was done with Yusuke—back to important matters: saving Shujin students from the impact of landing in a benevolent, caring lion's den. "How can help you?"

"I meant to ask you that." There wasn't much need to ask, Makoto guessed. She could see her own reflection in Haru's eyes, exhausted and desperate for normality. "You're stressed, aren't you? Why don't you take an hour or two off?"

"I can't… There's too much to do. Something goes wrong in every class and I have to clean up all of it." Shujin faculty was on paid leave, and Kosei teachers were too naive to the aggression of Shujin students, assuming their kindness-based methods of teaching would work on the new guests. When they didn't, Makoto got another task on her long list.

"Let me help."

"Okay." Makoto nodded to the door she just exited. "I had to turn down a request from Yusuke because I need to get back to work."

Haru smiled. "I can do that." They parted ways, Haru entering the office and Makoto drifting down the hall, slowing her pace the closer she got to the office she received as visiting student council president.

Makoto sighed when she made it there. This place doesn't make any sense, she thought.

It was an odd mission, to be sure. Haru never expected such a photo of Ren to exist and to be in her hands, but Yusuke used his manners and seemed genuine. No prank would have conjured such seriousness, though Haru supposed that few jokes did either. Laughing matters were impossible for Yusuke.

Shortly, she made it to what had become Ren's office. Maybe the prank isn't on Ren—it's on me, she thought, looking at the path she treaded from Yusuke's office only forty feet down the hall. This task is not worth Yusuke having someone else do it, but it's my excuse to check on Ren in his new role. So much responsibility… I hope he's handling it well.

She stopped outside because she heard muffled voices within.

"I'm doing my best, really, but you yelling isn't gonna help anyone."

"You're a useless little shit of a student. Did you know that? I always hated how much privilege Kobayakawa gave you, but he ain't in charge here. Neither are you. So, as I was saying, give—"

It seemed like a good time to interrupt.

"Pardon me," Haru said as she opened the door, pausing the argument and drawing all eyes to her. Ren sat behind his desk, feet kicked up on the corner, while a teacher Haru recognized from Shujin frowned. "I have a delivery for Amamiya-san."

"Then you'll have to wait." The teacher turned back to Ren. "He's not doing anything before he promises to pay me!"

Ren rolled his eyes and beckoned Haru in. She took up a spectator's seat on the side of the room, watching Ren slide his legs off his desk and get serious.

"No amount of complaining will get me to pay you, and why should it? This is not a problem for a student to figure out. Give Kobayakawa a call or something."

"I have reported to work, as is my job, and I—"

"You aren't supposed to be here! Why should you be paid for randomly showing up?"

"It is the administration's fault that I did not know about the paid leave—it is their fault that I've given up my time for the sake of this nation's future!"

"So you want a full day's yen in addition to the paid leave?"

"That is correct."

"Yeah okay, dude. Take it up with the Deity of Kosei-esque Koalas, something something…"

"I will not tolerate this disrespect, Amamiya-kun! I will bring a report on your behavior directly to the desk of Kawakami and Kobayakawa. You will regret—"

"Look, I respect that you want some extra cash, but I'm not the guy to extort for it. Try a first-year. Sure, I'm a second-year, but I like to think that I'm a third-year, mentally."

The teacher threw his hands in the air. "Ugh!" He turned to walk out.

"Maybe if you were kinder Amamiya would try to help," she said as he passed.

"You give good advice for a spoiled little girl who doesn't know a thing about life."

They held their glares until he was gone, lighting the room up with his absence. Haru grew more fond of her time at Shujin—she had the luck of never having to put up with a class taught by that man.

"Sorry you had to see that… He's been the nastiest customer all day."

"Is this what they have you doing?" Haru rose from her seat and brought the package to Ren's desk. "Taking complaints?"

"That was my first of the day. Since I got dismissed from class, I've been listening to a playlist Makoto made and mostly doing homework. This ambassador thing is pretty fun." Ren nodded to the package atop his desk. "What's that?"

"A gift from Yusuke. Makoto doesn't like it at all."

Ren raised an eyebrow but didn't ask. He split the top of the already-opened package, ruffling through wrapping paper to get to the prize: a framed staff photo of himself looking quite distinguished. "Pretty good editing on this… I can't even tell." The image found a home at the corner of the desk facing Haru. It was eerie, looking between fiction and reality; the suit looked wrong. "How's Kosei treating you so far? Need any ambassadorial services?"

"I don't think so…" Haru considered what those services would look like. Conflict mediation? Friendship matchmaking? Academy lore exposition? "I am more so looking for something to do. I have a free period."

And no garden, Haru thought. If she was to survive at Kosei, even for the briefest two weeks of her life, she needed to fill her free time.

"You came to the wrong guy then…" Ren looked over his empty desk in an attempt to help his friend. "How about this—I have a meeting scheduled with a Kosei teacher in half an hour. You serve as the ambassador's ambassador and go to the meeting for me?"

"So you can be lazy?"

Ren smiled. "So I can be lazy and so you can have something to do. We both win."

"Alright. What should I know beforehand?"

"I got no idea. It was on my agenda when I got to this office, so all I know is the time. Oh, and that teacher's name is Usagi Mae. She does some kinda non-Japanese history."

"I'll be there."

Haru skipped knocking. "Ah, welcome. I've— Hm… You're not Amamiya-kun," said Mae with her graying hair wrapped into a tight bun. Her thick-framed glasses gleamed with light. Despite her words and initial pause, she smiled at Haru before an explanation was given.

"I'm here on his behalf."

"Oh?"

"He's rather busy with his first day on the job."

She flipped the paper she had been working on to the side, clearing her desk and her next few minutes just for Haru. "How unfortunate. Well, I guess that's fine. You seem up to the task." Mae beckoned at a chair from the row of desks. Haru pulled it up to the teacher's desk.

"What task would that be?" she said, sitting down and folding her hands in her lap.

Mae let the question interrupt her from grabbing two small cups from the edge of her desk. "Chocolate or mint?"

"Mint, please."

"To answer your question, I'd like to have a conversation about you and your peers' first day here."

"Mae-sensei, I don't think I've had anywhere close to the average experience…" Based on what she overheard at lunch and from the back of her classrooms, Haru assumed the average experience to not be a positive one. Shujin students whined quite a bit. As for Haru, there was little reason to complain. Too many strangers smiled at her in the halls, the teachers took their time and answered every question, and Haru enjoyed all the off-kilter things that made Kosei different from other schools. If some students didn't like that…

To each their own, Haru thought.

"It's a wonderful school…" Haru said. Her unique perspective added shame to her voice as if her being the only happy Shujin student would hurt Mae's feelings. "Though, I have a feeling my peers are not adjusting as well."

"I have noticed. They bitch and moan a lot, don't they?"

"Um…"

"Relax. This is a casual conversation, not something serious."

"They do complain, I suppose."

"Why don't you?"

"I can't find any reason to." The forwardness of the question caught up to Haru; she looked away from Mae. "A-and if I could, I'm not sure I would say anything. We're lucky to be here. It's a privilege to still have school to attend after something so catastrophic."

"Really? There's nothing you think our school lacks?" Haru stayed quiet. "No answer is an insult, Okumura-chan. I'm hoping to improve this school and help everyone adjust."

"Well… I miss some things from Shujin. I had my garden, and the vending machines were abundant."

"There you go," Mae said with a smirk as she grabbed a post-it and jotted two bullet points on it. "If I got you space for a garden, would you commit to it?"

"Oh, of course! It's like therapy for me."

"One therapeutic agriculture space coming up…"

"What about funding? What about the other classes that need the—"

"Those are unimportant questions. Funding hasn't been an issue since Kitagawa took over."

Haru sighed, but a smile cracked her lips by the end. "Of course it hasn't."

Futaba pulled her knees to her chest and scooted her feet up onto the edge of her padded gaming chair. Her back hunched, her left-hand dove into a bag of chips, and her right hand clicked through Kosei's security feeds. It was grueling work, but someone had to do it.

Someone had to watch.

From a distance.

Alone.

Futaba fixed her glasses and clicked faster, changing which camera she watched from every half-second. Students in the halls, the faculty lounge, the janitor's closet—she saw it all in a minute. That was her day, that would be the rest of her days for the week.

Because what else could she, a lonely, unenrolled outcast do? The social outcasts she was friends with didn't get it—they went to school every day. Some of them had jobs. Futaba had a job (she was on Kosei's payroll, funnily enough), but it would've been her hobby anyway. Watching her friends go to school was the closest she could come to putting on the uniform herself and walking through the front door, let alone sitting through a lecture or two.

One day I have to go back. One day, I will, she told herself every time the four walls of her dark, messy room closed in around her. One day, I'll get back to living. But not today. I'm too tired to start today.

Futaba stopped clicking when one feed showed Ryuji and Ren strolling to the exit. She tabbed out, opened her audio mixer (that was conveniently rigged to each member of GRAVY's phone mic), and turned up Ren's microphone volume.

"Fine, fine… You win the bet."

"Easiest money of my life," Ren said.

Ryuji shook his head and reached into his pocket for a crumpled handful of yen. "I'll get the next one. Wanna play pool for a double-or-noth—" The money touched Ren's hand, then it didn't.

"Thank you, young man," said a tall, stern teacher as soon as he walked into the frame of the security camera. The yen got to his coat pocket before Ren could close his hand around the money that was going to be his. "I'll be taking that."

Ryuij stepped close to the teacher. "Wha— we just had a friendly bet, man!"

"Rule Sixty-Four of the Kosei Handbook states that students are not allowed to lose money on campus grounds," the teacher said. His hand went to his other coat pocket to procure his wallet. Carefully, he unfolded perfectly maintained notes to match the original sum, then handed them to Ryuji. "For the money you have lost."

"...Thanks?"

"Of course," said the teacher. "Unfortunately, I have caught you exchanging money in a bet-driven scenario." Futaba picked up her bag of chips from her desk and leaned forward as much as her spine would allow. "Rule One-Hundred-Seven states that no gambling or betting of any kind is allowed on campus. The punishment is—"

"That's bullshit! We talked this over before we got here, you can't—"

"The punishment is expulsion. Report to the Lord's office for your exit interview. Good day to both of you."

Ryuji had no more arguing to do with the teacher. "Dude…" he near-whispered as the teacher walked away.

"Wow. You got a refund on your bet and you got expelled. Sucks to be you. You still owe me, though."

"Not the time, Ren. Not the time."

"I wouldn't worry about it. Yusuke will clean this up as soon as he sees you."

"He better…"