"Shio and egg, babe, you know that's how I like it. What about you, my man?" Hayate leans over to elbow you in the ribs. The waitress, a cute college-age girl, rolls her eyes, emits a poorly suppressed sigh, and turns to take your order.

"Tonkotsu pork is fine."

"Thank you," she snaps before calling your order back to the kitchen.

"Girlfriend?" you ask. Hayate shakes his head and chews on his upper lip.

"One day, man, one day. I've coming here almost twice a week since last year. I figured she woulda warmed to me by now – I even got her schedule all figured out and everything! Must be one of those tsundere types. But hey, that's cool with me. I can withstand all that bitter tsun to reach that sweet, sweet dere." He grabs the neck of his bottled cola as if it was a beer and takes a swig.

"Uh huh. And what happens if there's no dere?"

Hayate smirks at that. "Pfft. There's always dere. Always."

The waitress returns to the counter with a couple steaming bowls of ramen in each hand. Gently, she deposits yours in front of you and places your chopsticks neatly on top. Then, she plunks down Hayate's, causing a bit of broth to slosh over the side of the bowl and splash sizzling onto his pants. Hayate chokes down a whimper of pain as the waitress dunks his chopsticks into the soup like a couple of darts.

"Y-You're the best, babe…" croaks Hayate as he dabs at his crotch with his napkin. The waitress replies with her middle finger.

Ignoring Hayate's clowning, you break your chopsticks apart and take in a healthy mouthful of noodles steeped in thick, gelatinous pork broth. It doesn't compare to Dad's, but Ikkuman's, like most restaurants in the Air Mall, is pretty skilled at what it does (and sports the prices to back it up). You'd taken Hayate up on his offer for ramen not because you particularly needed or wanted his company, but rather because he said he'd pay to hear what happened between you and the Yatabuya. You take a glance back over your shoulder into the glare of the setting sun, which washes the mall in a rich, orange glow.

The Air Mall has been considered the "crown jewel of Toshima" since its construction. True to its name, it is an enormous cylinder suspended in midair between two of the largest department stores in the city, held in place by a number of reinforced walkways that allow access to the mall and a series of cables that are thicker around than a tree trunk. To emphasize the "air" theme, almost the entire mall has been paneled in huge panes of glass, from the ceiling to the floor to the three huge windows that stripe the structure from top to bottom. In addition, many of the stores within the mall also feature an unfortunate number of windows, making it almost impossible to see at sunset unless you face east. However, it is one of your favorite places to visit after the sun goes down, when you can see the entirety of Toshima glittering around you like a bag of jewels scattered onto a swath of black felt.

"A-Anyways, that's probably enough about girls. If we really wanted to get into that, I bet we'd be here all night, eh?" he says, peering over his glasses at you. "You got taken in by the Yatabuya and lived. What's the deal? Did you give 'em money? Beat 'em up? Did they ask you to join?" Hayate reaches over and yanks down your collar to look for a tattoo. You slap his hand away, annoyed.

"No, no, and no. I'm telling you, there's not a whole lot to say. There were two of them: this skinny guy that looked like a snake and some weightlifter girl. They asked me about a bunch of shit I didn't know anything about until the girl got mad and tried to beat my skull into paste."

"And your skull is pretty un-pasty. C'mon, man, I coulda guessed all that. Cut to the good stuff!"

"Some other guy interrupted, told them to quit wasting their time, and they let me go. That's all there is to it."

Hayate doesn't seem terribly satisfied with the truth. "You're kidding, right? And just like that, they let you walk right out? You and I both know that's not how it works. You let one guy go and that tanks your rep! Suddenly everybody thinks they can get away with messing around with the Yatabuya!"

"It is what it is. You'd rather I'd have turned around and asked them?" you reply, getting quite tired of this thread of conversation. Hayate isn't however, and appears more than a little put out that your story didn't involve any wild fistfights or intense mind games.

"Well, no…the last thing I'd do after escaping the lion's pit is hop back in and pull his tail. It's just weird is all." He leans back in his chair and runs his hair through his fingers, idly tapping his chopsticks on the edge of his bowl like drumsticks. "That guy - the one that bailed you out - you think he was someone important? Think he was the Yatabuya Boss?"

"Doubt it, he didn't look like it and he wasn't treated like it. Besides, the other two said that they were representing the Boss. Wouldn't make much sense to send them and then come down yourself, would it? They called him Jidou. Does that sound familiar to you?"

Hayate frowns and takes another exaggerated swig of cola. "Maybe? I've heard it somewhere, but I can't say I know the guy. Shame he wasn't anyone special, though. If you'd found out the Boss's identity…now that'd be a story."

"If it was really him, he wouldn't have let me go. Why are you so obsessed with turning this into a 'story', anyways? I'd like to forget about it," you say, and not untruthfully. You've got the sneaking suspicion that Hayate is trying to use your newfound reputation as a means to bolster his own. This free bowl of ramen seems less and less worth it by the minute. Hayate stares at you as if you'd just said something incredibly stupid.

"Seriously? We're in high school, man. This is where we become who we're gonna be for the rest of our lives. Great stories are currency – if you're part of an exceptional one, you're set for life! No one forgets someone who's got a great story to tell. You did what no one else has done before, and you're saying you just wanna forget about it?"

"Yeah, I do. I'm not looking for attention, and I definitely don't want rumors going around school saying that I made the Yatabuya look bad – that'll definitely get me killed. I don't want the help."

You expect Hayate to get agitated, but instead he just shakes his head and sighs into his ramen, his breath casting ripples across the surface of the broth. "Okay then, if that's your choice. But…I don't get you, man. Everyone wants to be remembered for something."

You've got nothing to say to that, so instead you busy your mouth with slurping up the rest of your noodles and fishing the last few chunks of pork from the murky depths of the bowl. As soon as you're done, you set the empty bowl atop the bar. The waitress saunters over to take it and asks you for seconds, which you decline.

"Could you fix me up with a little extra, babe?" croons Hayate, who peers suggestively over the top of his sunglasses at her.

"I can fix you up with your bill," she says, and quickly vanishes back into the kitchen.

Hayate shrugs and chuckles to himself. "She's probably just having an off day."

Imagine that, you think to yourself, but you hold your tongue. Hayate hasn't paid for your ramen yet.

"So, how're things going with Mariko-chan?" he asks, and you choke back a groan.

"Fine," you say.

"Alright, alright…so when you say 'fine', does that mean…you know…I mean, you guys have practically been attached at the hip ever since she got here."

You briefly consider the pros and cons of sticking a chopstick in your eye as a means of escape.

"I'm helping a new student."

Hayate throws up his hands in a disarming gesture. "Whoa, whoa. Sorry I asked. But, I mean, you can hardly blame me, right? If she's not seeing anybody, that's valuable information."

"Okay, fine. We're going out," you spit. You hate to lie like this, but you're sure Mariko would do the same in your shoes. Maybe. Either way, it should be fine as long as he doesn't mention it to anyone... which as you think about it, seems less and less likely. You have never been so desperate to see a restaurant bill in your life.

"Aha! I knew it! Well good for you, man, she's criminally cute. Wish I could find a girl like that in only two days."

"Err…keep trying?" you offer, and then immediately wish you hadn't. Hayate chuckles and leans back on his stool.

"Hey, no worries, man! If there's one good thing about me, it's that I'm persistent. But…I gotta admit; it makes me a little jealous when you make it look so easy." With another roll of his chopsticks on the edge of his bowl, he dunks into his ramen to slurp up the last of his noodles. "Anyhow, no time to dwell on stuff like that. Some of my buds are about to swing by and get us into the karaoke bar upstairs. Y'know, the one where they serve booze? This one guy knows where to get fake IDs, he made one for all of us. Want me to get one for you?"

You hastily blurt, "No thanks," as you see the waitress emerge from the kitchen with your bill.

"All right, if you say so. Your loss, man," shrugs Hayate as he slaps a stack of yen down onto the counter and stuffs even more into the tip jar. "Hey, there they are now," he says, glancing outside where a group of about guys and girls from your school are passing by outside. It doesn't look like they're stopping.

"All right, I gotta go, but I'll hit you up on G-Net later, OK? I'll send you a friend request. Later!" he says, darting out of the restaurant after the group before you can even make up a lie to bail yourself out. Maybe you should delete your profile when you get home.

You look down at the money on the counter, and groan audibly, releasing all the frustration of the afternoon in one go. That son of a bitch only paid for himself. With a grimace, you slap your share of the bill down next to his, sling your guitar over your shoulder, and head for home.

On the way out, you shoot a cursory glance up to the level above you. The mall's five floors are arranged in rings that circle around the circumference of the structure, with each one specializing in certain businesses. The floor above you belongs to the clubs, bars, and arcades, and from here, you can see the bar Hayate was talking about, Pop Miracle.

A small line is beginning to form as the afternoon gives way to evening, their faces giddy with the anticipation of a night of singing and drinking their worries away. However, Hayate isn't with his "buds." He's standing awkwardly off to the side, nervously whipping his head back and forth to survey the faces around him. When someone turns his way, he rapidly strikes a pose, leaning back against the wall as he whips out his phone and makes exaggerated swiping motions that let you know that he's not actually checking on anything.

In a way, you had a sense that this was how it was. Shaking your head, you make for the elevators, leaving him to his antics.


When you return home, Dad's sitting at the table, eating, and as usual, Mom is nowhere to be seen. On the television, the a news anchor delivers a story about a little girl who's come down with some incurable "mystery disease." Her pained expression mirrors how you feel inside. Dad gives you a small wave as he finishes chewing.

"There he is! How'd it go today?"

You decide to be truthful with him about the fight right now, figuring that he'd rather hear about it from you than someone else.

"I…I ended up getting into a fight today."

"Hrrk!"

Dad pounds on his chest a couple times to clear the stuck food from his windpipe. "I really hope you're joking, Tetsuo," he says, incredulous. "You're not joking, are you?"

"Well…no. But these guys were picking on one of my friends and I couldn't let them get away with it!"

"Tetsuo, that's when you call an adult and let them handle it! You're not supposed to be going around beating up people for being assholes; there are too many of 'em running around for that. Tell me: what were they doing?"

"Holding him down and spitting in his hair. He's handicapped, Dad, it's messed up. If I had gone to get someone, they might have already been gone by the time we got back."

Dad opens his mouth as if to say something in rebuttal, and then stops, his expression one of disbelief.

"Wow. That-that's awful. What's wrong with people today?" He inhales deeply and runs his fingers through his hair. He looks conflicted. "I'm not going to lie, I'm not exactly sure what to say here. I guess I'm surprised, first off. You've always been pretty hard to rile up."

"I know, I know…there was just something about this guy that made me so mad I couldn't see straight."

"That's understandable," he says, pushing his bowl aside and folding his arms on the tabletop, "but you can step in without knocking some guy's teeth out. No matter how much he deserves it. Unfortunately, crappy things are always going to happen to good people. I'm not saying you shouldn't stand up for them, but fixing things with your fists – even though it might be the easiest solution – isn't always gonna be the best."

"I know. It's not like I'm looking for fights all the time."

Dad gives you a wry smile. "I know that, too, but Mom wouldn't approve if I didn't give you the runaround. Frankly, I'd have punched the guy's lights out, too. These people are living in their own little world where they think the rules just don't apply to them. If he rats you out for butting in on his fun, I hope they nail him, too. Speaking of which, am I going to be expecting a call in the next day or so or no?"

"Probably."

Dad rolls his eyes and grimaces. "Of course. If I'm going to be upset about anything, it's that I have to listen to some teacher that has no clue what's going on ride me about you. But at least it'll give me the opportunity to tell them your side of the story. Thanks for being straight with me, Tetsuo. As long as you're honest, I'll always go to bat for you."

"Thanks, Dad. I appreciate that."

"No problem. Of course," he says, his eyes narrowing, "I seriously hope this is only a one-time thing. Right?"

"Yeah! Yeah, of course."

"Good. You gonna wait for Mom to come home?" he asks, rising from the table to rinse out his dishes.

"Nah, not tonight. I think I'm just gonna head up to bed," you say, dumping your bag on the floor and shifting your case's strap into a more comfortable position. It's been a hellish day, and you're just ready for it to be over.

"All right then. I'll tell her you said goodnight. Hope tomorrow turns out better. G'night Tetsuo," says Dad, waving you towards the stairs.

"'Night."

Thou art I...

And I am thou...

Thou hast established a new bond...

It shall grant you the strength to open thine eyes...

Thou shalt be blessed under the sign of the Temperance Arcana…


As you lie in bed that night, you're finding it difficult to keep your eyes shut. With a soft groan, you roll over onto your side and pluck your phone up off of your nightstand to check what time it is.

Midnight.

You decide to check your G-Net page in the hopes that you'll be able to find something to read or watch that'll put you to sleep. There's nothing new on your feed since the last time you checked, but you do have two new friend requests. The first one, from Mariko, you accept without a second thought. It'll be useful to keep in touch with her so that you can organize Sleepwalkers meetings. The other, as you'd feared, is from Hayate, his profile picture an uncomfortable closeup of him pulling down his glasses and roguishly sticking his tongue out. But after seeing that sorry display outside of Pop Miracle you feel compelled to at least grant him this, against your better judgement.

Almost immediately, you receive a notification that Hayate's posted a link to your feed, and you have to resist the urge to instantly unfriend him. Out of sheer curiosity, you decide to see what it is.

The link's title, The Book of Avalon, is fairly non-revealing, and it doesn't even come with a description to tell you what it is. All you have to go by is a message that Hayate's attached to it that reads, Hey man, you gotta try this!

That effectively tells you that it's not worth wasting your time on at all. You choose to ignore it.

Placing your phone back onto your nightstand, you hunker back down into bed. As you watch the midnight moonlight squeeze through the gaps in the curtains, illuminating slivers of your room in eerie silver, your eyelids suddenly feel much heavier. For a second, a tall figure appears to be standing in the middle of your room, its features obscured by the play of light and shadow. The headlights of a passing car cast a piercing arc of light across the room, and within its brilliance, the figure vanishes. But before your mind has a chance to register what you've seen, sleep seizes you violently, and you fall into unconsciousness.