The Big Switch

by dave-d

Kaname visits a medical center with secret facilities, to help research the origin of the Whispers. No good deed goes unpunished. Who will be the hero this time? The answer is not as simple as it might seem.

9. Chapter 9

ENGLISH CLASS

Sousuke found himself under siege the moment he entered the class room.

"Ohhh-hh-h Kaname are you okay?!" That concerned wail came from Eri, who fought the urge to pat "Kaname' on the head or give her a motherly hug.

"We were so worried," Shiori said in a rush.' We heard that you were attacked by Mr. Ciocio and that he was some kind of pervert."

"No," Maya remarked. "He's not a pervert, he's a serial killer. You're lucky you made it out alive!"

"Ohhhhh-hhhh-hhh-hh-h," That was Eri again. "It's worse than I thought. Do you need to go home?"

"That-" Sousuke suddenly brightened up some. There it was. His opportunity. He would not need to further employ his ninja arts in Japanese History class. "I-"

"Kaname's fine," Kyouko said, wondering why Kaname suddenly looked so sad. "She had a lot of help. Especially from the plumber's helper."

"You must mean the janitor," Sousuke said. "Yes, he was the hero this time."

"Nope." Kyouko shook her head.

"Huh?" Sousuke made a face. Not Mr. Oonuki? "Do you mean someone in that gang of boys?"

"Wrong," Kyouko said grinning. "None of them."

"It can't be Tsubaki Issei!" Sousuke folded Kaname's arms across her chest. "He was less than useless!"

"You're right," Kyouko agreed. "Ka-naaa-aa-a-may… plumber's helper… you know… the plunger."

"That's right!" Mayuko Uchida exclaimed. "I was there. Kaname was like a piston in an engine:

*doink* *doink* *doink* *doink* *doink* *doink* *doink*"

"No." Tomomi Isomura corrected. "It was more like this:

*DOINK *DOINK* *DOINK* *DOINK* *DOINK* *DOINK*"

"And 'Owwwww-wwww-www-ww-w Oooo-ooo-oo-oo Owowowowowowowowo Pleee-ee-ease stop. Help. Me. Mommeeee-eee-ee-e…." Maya was breathless after all that.

The girls all laughed, even though it really wasn't a laughing matter. Still, they needed to find some way to regain their sense of security. It was one thing having Sousuke cause all sorts of mayhem. He wasn't mean-spirited or perverted. He wasn't evil.

"I thought I'd die when he caught you with that net!" Shiori added. She didn't mention the knife. She didn't want to think about that knife.

"I don't know why he wanted to catch you anyway," Shinji said, wanting to get in on the conversation. He didn't know many details; but, he felt the urge to tell a joke. Well, something that passed as a joke with him. "It's not like you're a butterfly. Well, you kind of looked like one before… you know… with the blue hair." He held his hands out on the sides of his head.

"Blue…." Someone else wanted to play the game. "That's it. He must have wanted to catch a Blue-Haired Booty!" That was Yoshionori Kodama, running a hand through his tight blonde perm. He brushed some dandruff off the shoulder of his bright red coat and squatted back on his chair, gangsta style. "That's a bird, you know." He didn't go to class all that often; that didn't mean he never learned anything. Eat that snobs!

"That's Blue-Footed Booby," Akemi Watanabe said, her long straight hair dyed blonde, too. "Dummy." She wore gyaru style clothing, but had tattoos and piercing one would only find on a yanki girl.

"Wrong," Noboru Nakanishi said, making a raspberry sound. That delinquent boy sported an orange perm. "In her case, it's Blue-Haired Boo-bieee-ee-es." He wore a shiny green jacket adorned with gang kanji. He took out a candy bar, removed the wrapper, and tossed the trash on the floor. He took a huge bite and began chewing.

"Idiots," a third boy said with a deeper voice and a nastier attitude. It was Hisayaki Inagawa. Like the other two boys, he had a protuberant belly and chubby cheeks. He looked like someone who never said 'no' to seconds… and thirds, fourths, fifths, sixths, possibly sevenths. "It can't be that… her hair's black now… so she's just a Black-Haired Bozo." His hairdo was orange and enormous, shaped like something that Elvis Presley might have worn. He rocked a gold coat with blue arms. He had once respected one thing about Kaname. It was that blue hair. In that way, she wasn't just another cookie cutter or Xerox kind of Japanese girl. He looked over at Eri, blew his nose to the side, and asked "Are you going to teach, or not? If not, we're going to bounce."

"Yeh… bounce." Yoshinoru tried to act tough, echoing his leaders remark.

"Like a ball!" Noboru's sense of humor hadn't improved a lick.

After the chaos of World War II, Japanese society swung back to the country's stereotypical uniformity. Except for the yanki, who openly rejected the rigidity of societal norms. It was a youth sub-culture based on rebellion and embracing of class distinctions, not conformity and strict adherence to rigid social norms. The word yanki was not a corruption of the American 'yankee', but rather came from a slang Japanese word from the 70s and 80s.

Someone once wrote: 'Japan is to crazy what the Middle East is to oil… sitting on quantities that can supply the rest of the world for decades'. That was said in stark admiration. The nation can lay claim to a number of unsettling subcultures that have come under heavy fire from high expectations and stifling social codes of their fellow countrymen, and have responded by taking rebellion to lofty heights.

In addition to yanki... who are the closest thing Japan has to white trash, and are famous for being loud, rude and refusing to take part in the strict manners of Japanese culture… there is visual kei, a term that represents both a music based on warmed-over 80s hair metal and an insane style of dress that both the bands and fans embrace with frightening gusto… gyaru, young girls who dye their hair sickly shades of silver and blonde, get fake tans, and look to have put their make-up on with a trowel… male hosts, men who make their livings drinking with older women, go gyaruo style, and wear expensive clothes, oodles of cologne and sport Rod Stewart style haircuts… lolita, with girls clad in petticoats, high-collared dresses, bonnets and wielding fluffy parasols, all sharing a love of women's fashions that died out before their grandmothers were born… and dekotora, a combination of the English words 'decoration' and 'truck', where truckers add amazingly elaborate spoilers, lights, boxes and murals to their rides, which aren't just amazing pieces of art, but are actually used to deliver goods..

"Like a ball," someone snickered, making fun of the one thug. He spoke too loudly.

"What are you looking at?!" Not liking to be ridiculed, Noboru kicked over his desk and took a demonstrative stance. He smirked when the other boy looked away. "What are any of you retarded Robots looking at?" He and his buddies despised conformists. Most people might look at him as trash, but at least he wasn't afraid to stand up and stand out. While Yanki youth attempt to project a hard-edged, criminal façade, most tend to be harmless, attention-seeking teens, some of whom spend less than a year in the lifestyle. But, these guys were hardcore, with true illegal aspirations.

Shiori whispered to Sousuke "How come they get to keep their hair like that." She swallowed hard and turned to face the front of the room when one troublemaker glare at her.

Sousuke could guess the answer. Someone was paid off. Or, someone was threatened with bodily harm. He felt the nascent urge to cause them bodily harm. Luckily it was the teacher's duty to maintain order, not his. Especially since his methods often backfired or left him holding the bag.

Eri tried to keep a calm look. Some yanki, like some dogs, probably could smell fear. Or so she feared. The infamous truants weren't being truant today, and the Japanese 'everyone must have an equal chance at education' imperative was still in effect, just as authoritative as the Prime Directive in Star Trek. So, unless they did something serious, she could not ask them to leave.

"Right…" Eri started. "Today all of your assignments are due. Each of you was instructed to find something to read in American literature, and to report your impressions back to all of us."

"I hope there's something good," Shoko Goto said. Another sukeban, a leader of a girl gang like Akemi, she twirled her long blonde hair around her fingers. "Or we wasted our damn time." She was dressed like a Hime gyaru, with a pink skirt, and a lot of lace on her rose-patterned blouse A big red bow was clipped to her hair. Like her cohorts, she found certain American cultural periods to be badass.

Hisayuki and his followers had formed their own little enclave in the back corner of the class room. They didn't bring any books or school materials with them. Instead, the leader had a large haversack that he had opened. He was rummaging around inside that dirty blue bag now. Before long, he had made two stacks of large flat boxes, five boxes per pile.

Sousuke gave the five ruffians a quick eyeball, making certain that there was nothing overtly suspicious in that bag. He didn't see anything worrisome.

"I chose something by Edgar Allen Poe," Maya said."The Murders in the Rue Morgue."

"Cool," Shoko remarked, placing three folded pieces of chewing gum into her mouth. A story about murder might be worth hearing.

"It's a short story," Maya continued. "It was first published in Graham's Magazine in 1841. It has been described as the first modern detective story. It's my mother's favorite."

"Mothers," Akemi snorted. "Who fucking needs them." She began etching a skull in her desk top with a nail file.

"My mother made these bancho boxes," Hisayuki said, handing two boxes to Yoshinori. He picked up another two for Noboru. "So I guess you won't be wanting any. He called the bento boxes bancho boxes, since he considered himself to be the bancho of a large group o thugs. Bancho refers to a leader of juvenile delinquents in middle and high schools. Banchō who rule several schools and have control of other banchō are called sōban, and in elementary schools and under, the term for banchō is gakitaishō.

"Your mom's alright," Akemi quickly said. Like three of the other yanki, she wasn't paying any attention to Maya, who had to speak louder than usual to be heard over the talking in the rear of the room.. Eri could live with that. The troublemakers were being relatively quiet. "But most families suck!" She accepted two bentos, each box big enough to hold three or four lunches. Like her friends, she didn't worry about breakfast or lunch time; she ate when she felt like it.

"Yeh," Yoshinoru said. "They suck big time." The Japanese family is the cornerstone of the Japanese school program, and the school program was not something that the delinquents had much love for.

"I hardly know my fucking father," Akemi said. "He's never home, working all the fucking time." She opened her box and began shoveling rice into her mouth with a pair of chopsticks. "Lrik evrthr fothrht rkng frthr," she tried to enunciate, going for 'Like every other fucking father'. Shee sat on her chair in the unko zuwari style, literally meaning 'shit sitting'. Yanki traditionally squat in a way that looks like they are trying to squeeze our a turd. That makes them look particularly disreputable.

Sousuke wasn't all that fond about of the subject of family. It was hard to grieve the loss of someone, when you never have a chance to meet them. But, it is very easy to feel a sense of emptiness when you see someone else enjoying something you never had. Emptiness, and exclusion.

"My mother works really hard." Noboru said, sitting on his chair in the same unko zuwari style. He ducked a small piece of sausage thrown at him by Akemi. The food had been artfully shaped to resemble an octopus. "But I don't want to put up with that shit!" His mother, like many in Japan, bore most of the responsibility for making certain her children did well in school. She drilled her children, read to them, and worked hard to supplement what they are taught in school. Sometimes she even attended their classes when they were sick, sitting in special large desks designed for mothers, so that her children wouldn't fall behind.

"She works really hard… on the milkman," Yoshinoru quipped. "The newspaper boy, too!" He took a rolled-up omelet piece straight between the eyes. "Asshole. She doesn't work hard for you. She probably just works hard for herself, just like my old hag. They both get blamed for the bad marks of their other kids, too."

"I got an 'Education Crazy Mother' too," Hisayuki said, holding his heavy box up and scooping large portions of food into his gaping maw. After swallowing, he added: "She studies… she packs these lunches… she waits in lines to register my brother for exams… and waits again in the hallways for hours while when my brother takes them. I mean, she even denies herself TV so that my brother can study in quiet… and she stirs noodles at 11:00pm for his stupid snack."

"My mom doesn't have a life either," Shoko said, finally turning her attention to food. She took the first of her two boxes and began to chow down. "I don't ever want to be like that. The old lady knows all of the teachers… and has researched their backgrounds to find out how successful their previous students have been in passing exams. She carefully chooses my sisters' schools… and their juku… and has spent so many fricking hours accompanying them to classes. She even attends gymnastic, violin, and sumo wrestling classes with my youngest brother, so she can help him practice at home."

Sousuke took in the words of the yankii, not trying to be judgmental, despite their rough and uncouth behavior. He had dealt with fellow soldiers who were far rougher and a great deal more uncouth. Those things that they were dissing did not sound like terrible things. Not entirely, anyway. Sure, there was an element of obsession, and even personal pride. But wasn't there an element of caring, too?

"That's nothing," Noboru said. "My mother went with my oldest sister on her first day of University… and with my oldest brother to his first day of work after graduation. I mean, shit!"

"Hey… you bastard… your box is much better than ours," Yoshinori tried to sneak food out of one of Hisayuki's box. He fumbled the food, which nearly landed on a ornate official looking document sitting on top of an unoccupied desk.

"Fuckwit!" Hisayuki swore. The pompadour-haired boy pushed the paper aside, before backhanding Yoshinori across the face. He had to grab his bento box, before it slid off of his knee. He stuck his chopsticks up inside of the other thug's nose. "You better not spill anything on the Contract. And you better not mess up my bancho box." His box was extraordinarily organized, with fresh peas, boiled eggs, lotus roots, mint leaves, tomatoes, carrots, fruit salad, minced chicken, and seaweed, with food items cut into teddy bear shapes, made with fluffy white rice and a plumb in the middle to symbolize the rising sun on the Japanese flag. A sloppy lunch box is regarded as a sign of an uncaring mother.

The big-cheese yankii was like some other low level roughs. He had his eye on becoming yakusa someday, even though the mafia thought very little of most yanki, seeing them as improper and undisciplined. Despite that, he had managed to obtain the Contract, a promisory note from one mafia group to take him into the fold… if he maintained the right image… if he performed certain challenges… and if… the most important if… he still had that contract, signed in blood by the man who would be his big brothers in the criminal organization. He rolled up the parchment and slid it into his desk. That action had not gone unnoticed.

"You better not hit me again!" Yoshinori blurted out. He held his temper. Yankii did not disrespect their leaders. Just the same, he felt compelled to say "The guys in the bōsōzoku listen to me just as much as they listen to you!" He was speaking about a large tight knit gang… not yakusa… whose members rode tricked out motorcycles, cruising the suburban streets in large numbers very slowly, terrorizing neighborhoods and making a lot of noise with roaring engines and loud musical horns. They had a tendency to wave imperial Japanese flags, start fights, and generally make a nuisance of themselves. If anyone was disrespectful towards a gang member or that member's ride, the gang would attack them. The boys were friends with a gang like that.

"No they don't,' Noboru said, trying to curry favor with Hisayuki, and still a bit peeved over the boy's crude joke earlier. "Your hair's not as perfect as his." He pointed at the professionally painted pompadour.

"Shit," Hisayuki said. He wasn't averse to suck-ups. He wanted to eat his remaining bancho box in peace. "You shouldn't have said that word!"

"Fuck!" Akemi spat. "Perfect? Did you say 'perfect', you prick? You know I hate that word!"

"Oh crap." Shoko closed her bento box in case stuff started flying.

Culturally speaking, Japan might be as close as you are going to get to a utopia on Earth, at the given moment. Then again, what utopia would have karoshi, 'death by work'? And, when imperfect beings strive for personal, political, economic and social perfection, they are doomed to fail. In some people's minds, there is much more harm caused by the striving than by the failing. And, great stress occurs when conformity collides with humankind's natural-born desire for autonomy, individual freedom, and choice.

"Why do I have to be perfect?" Akemi said. "Why does everything have to be perfect?" She slapped her hand down hard on her desk. "What fucking good did it do my fucking mom to be perfect?!"

She wasn't a student of history. Her anger against the pursuit of perfection had nothing to do with the grand twentieth-century experiments in utopian socialist ideologies that manifested in Leninist and Stalinist Russia… Fascist Italy… and Nazi Germany… all large-scale attempts to achieve political, economic, social and even racial perfection, resulting in tens of millions of people murdered by their own states or killed in conflict with other states perceived to be blocking their road to paradise.

She was not feeling a need to compare Japanese society to bizarre experiments such as those conducted by Ilya Ivanov, whom Stalin had tasked in the 1920s with crossbreeding humans and apes in order to create 'a new invincible human being.' But, she unknowingly felt like Ivanov must have, when his failure to produce the man-ape hybrid caused Stalin to arrest him, imprison him, and exile him to Kazakhstan. She felt like a prisoner in her own homeland. Her bugbears and bugaboos were obvious of a personal nature.

To her, Japan was a dystopia, not a utopia. She was obsessed with dystopian stories like 'Walking Dead' and 'Mad Max.' She loved 'The Hunger Games' and any story where powerful elites violate ethical values, prompting the downtrodden protagonists to rebel. Watching dystopian movies and reading dystopian fiction might not have made her any angrier than she otherwise might have turned out to be; but, it did make it easier for her to justify her anger.

"But I guess some people's moms help them have perfect lives," Akemi continued. More people were listening to her now than to Maya. "Like our perfect little princess there." She pointed to Kaname, got out of her seat, and walked towards the front. "Look at this hair. It's perfect now." She picked up the hair off of Kaname's body and let it fall back down again. "Just like her. Just like her mommy, I bet!"

Sousuke's fingers began trembling, just like KGB assassin Illya Nickovitch Kuryakin's fingers did in the 'Man from Uncle' movie.

"Kaname's mother died from cancer when she was younger," Kyouko said, at the same time Eri was telling Shiori to tell the class about her chosen work, 'Cry Me a River' by T. R. Pearson.

"Cry ME a fucking river," Akemi said. "So her mother had cancer. So she died. So what?!" She looked particularly upset now. Her mother had died from leukemia when she was much younger. "A lot of people get cancer. A lot of people die from It. I bet her mother wanted to die because she became a fucking vegetable, and became that vegetable because she couldn't stand her fucking perfect little princess!"

"Yeh! That's right!" Noboru had a gigantic crush on Akemi. He'd do anything to get her attention, and to gain her good favor. "Cancer's no big deal!" He tried to think of something snappy to say. He couldn't, so he did the next best thing. "What's the difference between Chidori and her mother?" No one answered. "Her mother didn't beat cancer!" He felt his pulse rate quicken when Akemi nodded in his direction. " What does milk and a mom with cancer have in common?" He waited again. "An expiration date."

"You sick bastard," Yoshinori said. "Heh. Maybe you're not all bad like Hisayuki says. What was Chidori's mom's favorite Pixar movie." He didn't allow anyone the chance to spoil his punch line, immediately saying "Finding Chemo." He hurried to add another: "What's pink, yellow and has seventeen nipples?" He answered himself: "The trash can behind the cancer ward."

Students were mumbling amongst themselves, giving the yanki dirty stares. A number looked to Eri, expecting her to put an end to things. Eri looked conflicted. Would things get worse if she stepped in? Or, would things fizzle out if Kaname kept her cool. It was a good thing that Sousuke wasn't here now. Those toughs knew better than to even say 'Boo' to him.

"Is that the way I taught you guys to behave," Hisayuki said, sounding stern and disapproving. His eyes closed and his mouth widened in a great smile. "Damn. I'm a better teacher than the stick up there," he waved his arm towards Eri. "Or the stick the school shoved way up her ass." He saluted when Akime blew him a kiss. "What's the hardest part of a vegetable to eat?"

"The outside," Nobura blurted out, wanting to be first.

"Shut up," Yoshinori said, giving Akemi an 'OK' sign when she cuffed the other boy in the back of his neck. "The boss was talking."

"What's the hardest part of a vegetable to eat?" Hisayuki started over. "The wheelchair!"

"The boss is the best," Nobura said, trying to get back in Akemi's good graces.

"I'll never forget Chidori's mother's last words to her father before she died," Hisayuki said. "Dear, why are you holding the plug." He leaned back in his seat and put his feet up on his desk, as if challenging anyone to beat that last joke.

Sousuke was whispering to himself: "Keep your eye on the ball… keep your eye on the ball… keep your eye on the ball…." His arms were twitching now.

"'Where exactly are you taking me', Chidori's mother asked the doctor," Yoshinori accepted the challenge. "To the morgue', the doctor replied. 'What', Chidori's mother panicked. 'But I'm not dead yet'. The doctor said: 'And we're not there yet'."

"Shoko?" Akemi's look had the other girl knowing exactly what she expected.

"I-" Shoko tried to remember any joke that might make sense here. She didn't rally ant to be cruel, but gave into the peer pressure just the same."Chidori's dog died, so her father tried to cheer her up by getting her an identical one. That just made her more upset. She screamed at him, 'What am I supposed to do with two dead dogs?'"

"And a dead mom!" That addition came courtesy of Hisayuki. "Can we hear a rimshot on the drum…." He folded his arms smugly across his chest when he heard the other four delinquents play their desk tops like a drumroll.

"At least the princess had a mom," Akemi smiled, thinking of another way to make Kaname Chidori upset. Female intuition told her that she might have a soft spot for Sousuke Sagara, even though she usually treated him like a red-haired stepson. "I bet you that Sousuke Sagara never had a mom. I bet he was made in a petri dish!"

"Or a test tube," Hisayuki said, snapping his finger. "Sagara was probably a test tube baby." He might not be fond of school, but that didn't mean he was totally unlearned. He knew what In vitro fertilization was. "But… instead of putting eggs and sperm in the tube… they shoved them down the barrel of a gun!"

"That makes sense," one non-yankii boy said. He winced when the girl behind him kicked him hard in the shin.

"Or his mother got raped by a tank!" Yoshinori stood up and took a bow.

Sousuke's legs began trembling. He especially disliked the subject of rape. He did not relish the idea of children born from sexual assault. And, while he never knew his mother, he did owe that woman his life. "Don't screw up… don't screw up… don't screw up… don't screw up…." Sousuke almost felt as if he were undergoing an out of body experience. He reached down, unlatched his school bag, and took out two items.

Shinji was not a brave boy, but he was Sousuke's friend. He was staring at the dastardly delinquents, wishing he could come up with some heroic speech to save the day. When the bancho reached into his large sack to get a bottle of soda, he pulled the zipper down to far. One item rolled out unexpectantly. Followed by a half dozen identical items.

"Spray paint cans!" The bespectacled boy pointed at black cans of spray paint, not knowing that they were the same type used to dye Kaname Chidori's hair. But, another girl knew. She had been the recipient of a dying herself.

"Wait!" A girl exclaimed, pointing. "Those cans! You stole them from that room. The room where they dyed our hair." That had everyone in the room looking in the direction the girl pointed.

Flash flash flash flash flash flash flash flash flash flash flash flash flash flash flash flash

Kyouko kept punching the button on her smart phone, taking photos of the cans, the perpetrator, and his comrades. Her actions did not go over very well.

"Akemi, get that bitch's phone." Hisayuki wasn't joking any longer. If he was going to get the yakusa to honor the Contract, he would have to have to save face. Being chased by the police would actually be beneficial. But, he couldn't let that pig-tailed girl make him look like some bumbling would-be criminal. "If you actually rough her up too, it's more than okay." What he said next was not a request. Yanki never disobey their leaders. "Yoshinori, the four eyes. Noboru, the blabbermouth bitch. Teach them the benefit of keeping their fucking mouths shut."

All three yanki stood up to do as they were instructed. Akemi threw the remnant of her bento box at Kyouko as she went to collect a trophy. She undid a pen-knife, intending to relieve Kyouko of her pigtails. Yoshinori had a fistful of food that he intended to ram down Shinji's throat, before monkey-stomping the nerd. Noboru took a stapler out of his desk. He was a very literal kind of guy. If he stapled the girl's lips together, she would have to keep her mouth shut.

"Let's not cause a fuss here," Sousuke said. "This is a classroom, not a playground." He had his two items palmed and unseen. "As the class rep, I will defuse the situation." He winced at that word; but, it was appropriate. "Kyouko… your phone… I will delete your pictures." He walked in the back of the room, passing in front of the seats holding the bento boxes and the big bag. He never slowed down, missed a step, or telegraphed his actions. To the five delinquents he said: "On behalf of your classmates, I will apologize." He knew the inner working of yankii and yakusa minds alike from previous experience. He knew just what buttons to push. "It would be a shame if anyone got hurt. It would also be a shame if someone spoke poorly of anyone's behavior…."

"To the police," Hisayuki snorted. "Oh, we're soooo-oo-oo-o scared, aren't we guys."

"No," Solusuke said. "To Ren Mikihara. Do you know her?" He was certain that they must. Her father, Mikihara Kenji, also known as Kenji the Killer, is the leader of a local Yakuza gang called the Mikihara Gang. "I understand that she loves her father just as much as she loves her mother. After all, family is everything." The emphasis he put on that last word gave it a double meaning. 'Family' family, and 'mafia' family."

Sousuke had been doing his best to lay low. But, he had been viewing things through the prism of high school. That might be fine for his old and new mammal brains, but not for the lizard brain. Not one bit. Sousuke's reptile brain viewed things without a prsim, sticking with what it knew the most and knew the best. The military. The heap of human refuse they were dealing with here today reminded him of certain types of mercenary soldiers, the type of mercs that Sousuke hated the most. Unskilled, but also indiscriminate. Mean-spirited and sociopathic, taking their own problems out on the enemy and the innocents alike. Insulting to the men who footed their bills, making their own rules when they had the client over the barrel. Friendly fire. Cutting and running in the heat of battle. Leaving the job half done, and that half done poorly. Those type of men had cost him comrades. Dear comrades. These yanki yahoos were not going to add any new names to the casualty list. They had jumped on Godzilla's tail one too many time.

"So," Sousuke said after taking Kyouko's phone. "I suggest that our teacher gets back to teaching, and you guys get back to eating such… lovely… meals. May I?" For effect, he took a rabbit-shaped morsel of rice, popped it into his mouth, and made a 'yummy' kind of noise. "Delicious." He then returned to his desk.

The delinquents kept quiet, secretly seething inside. The bill would come due someday. Kaname Chidori would pay. Now, they would simply enjoy their feast. They were all heavy eaters. Not just himself and the other two tubbies; but also the two girls, who would look fat if they ate more than a single grain of rice. They were all putting the food away at a professional pie-eater's pace.

"Thank you, Miss Chidori," Eri said. She called on the next student to present her work.

"I will be presenting my summary of 'Rain Fall', by Barry Eisler," Ena Saeki announced. As she began her report, Sousuke sat in a silent moment of soul searching.

'A specialist will use anything at hand,' the young soldier thought. 'Originality is not important; results are.' He scowled. The was such a thing as the Art of War. He should not be concerned about the artfulness of his solution. Bodily functions had produced noteworthy effects in Math class; however, the triggering of those reflexes was not entirely intentional... he had called down artillery, so to speak; but, he had given out inaccurate fire coordinates. This time, it was one hundred percent by design. And, it would be precisely on target. 'I have not utilized every available orifice,' he thought. 'There are still the nostrils.' He pictured an adversary sneezing up a storm, before shooting out sizeable streamers of snot. "No. That would be disgusting.'

Blip blip blap blap blab blaaaa-aaa-aa-ap burrrrr-rrrr-rrr-rr-p burrrrrr-rrrrr-rrrr-rrr-rr-rp

The yanki all began burping, quietly at first, but becoming a growing chorus moment by moment.

"They sound like American bull frogs," Shinji said. The symbol of frog is 'return.' That fact was ironic, as time would soon show.

Snrrrr-rrr-rr-rt… Snrrrr-rrr-rr-rt… Snrrrr-rrr-rr-rt… Snrrrr-rrr-rr-rt… Snrrrr-rrr-rr-rt…

Hisayuki tried to speak. All that came out was 'snrrrr-rrr-rr-rt. Her belly felt as if a team of rugby payers had shrunken in size and were fighting a pitted match inside of his stomach.

Akemi had no more success than the bancho. 'Snrrr-rr-rt snrrr-rr-rt snrrr-rr-rt.' Her abdomen grew and shrank repeatedly, like an Alien chest burster had chosen to explode out of her navel.

Noboru was having issues of his own. He wasn't trying to talk. It was the other end of his body making noise for him:

frrt frrt frrt frrt frrt frrrr-rrr-rr-rt frrrr-rrr-rr-rt frrrrrrr-rrrrrr-rrrrr-rrrr-rrr-rr-rt

Before long, all five delinquents had swollen up, and were snorting loudly. Their eyes had grown a bit glassy and glazed. They held their bellies, not knowing that their food had been laced by another of Sousuke's ancient ninja medicines. The dose had been a bit high. He was still trying to titrate the drug, having only used it one other time, on a raid against revolutionaries who had been stealing all of a poor village's food.

"No… it's pigs," Shinji corrected his early observation. "I think they sound like pigs." He smiled. He couldn't help but feel the five were somehow getting a what they deserved. How might it have happened? Maybe bad food?

"They sure do," Mayuko agreed. "I wish they could have waited for a bit longer. I am going to present my assignment today. Excerpts from 'The Oddysey.' My favorite part is when the enchantress Circe turned most of Oddyseus's crew into swine."

"It's just like a scene from 'Willow'," Shiori remarked. "When Bavmorda turned Willow Ufgood, Madmartigan, and Airk's army into pigs."

"And 'Spirited Away'," Kyouko said. "Remember? Chihiro's parents crossed over into the fantasy world with her, and turned into hogs after eating food from the deserted stall."

Other students piped up, feeling sufficiently brave enough now to offer their opinions. They agreed that the ruffians were fat like pigs. Some thought they smelled like pigs. One even felt emboldened enough to say they probably wallowed in shit like pigs. The more people who spoke up, the bolder the rest of them felt. They were thinking about the moment, not the rest of the day or some time net week. It might not be the best idea to smack a hornet's nest with a stick. One man might be a coward, but a mob might be brave. Then again, there's a saying that says that a person may be smart, but people are stupid.

"Snnnn-rrrr-tttt." Yoshinoru swore revenge. There would be a reckoning. The motorcycle gang owed him a favor.

"Look!" Maya pointed at Shoko. "Her nose is turning blue."

"No," Tomomi observed. "Her whole face. And it's not just her." All five of the afflicted yanki were turn a purplish shade of blue. It reminded her of a different movie. "Violet… you're turning violet, Violet!" 'Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory.' She wasn't the only one fond of that film.

"She's blowing up like a balloon," one boy said.

"Like a blueberry!" A girl chortled.

"Stick her with a pin," Shiori said. "She'll pop!"

"We should roll her down to the juicing room at once," Shinji said, trying his best to sound like Gene Wilder. "She has to be squeezed immediately before she explodes." The last word was a fine bit of foreshadowing.

Eri opened her mouth to steer the class back on track. But, she too was fond of that movie, even though she was not a big fan of the more recent Johnny Depp version. As a teacher, she felt ashamed of herself. As a person, she felt that this was just desserts, no pun intended.

"Oompa Loompa doom pa dee doo," Tomomi began. "I've got another puzzle for you." Sure, that cautionary song was originally aimed at Augustus Gloop, not Violet Beauregarde. But, no one was going to cry foul.

"Oompa Loompa doom pa da dee," Maya continued. "If you are wise you will listen to me."

"What do you get when you guzzle down sweets?" Tomomi had mad vocal skills.

"Eating as much as an elephant eats." Maya was no slouch herself.

"What are you doing getting terribly fat." Shinji shouldn't sing under any circumstance.

"What do you think about that?" Tomomi and Maya spoke at the same time.

"I don't like the look of it!" Eri wasn't just finishing the song. She had gone pale, looking at what she thought might be a medical emergency. The delinquent's clothing was testing the strength of their buttons, as their girth had grown to a gargantuan extreme.

Receptors on the floor of the fourth ventricle of the brain represent a chemoreceptor trigger zone, known as the area postrema, stimulation of which can lead to vomiting. There are various sources of input to the vomiting center: the vestibular system; cranial nerve X; the vagal and enteric nervous system; and areas of the central nervous system that mediate vomiting that arises from psychiatric disorders and stress from higher brain centers. The drug the yanki had gobbled down in such gluttonous fashion touched on three of them directly, and one indirectly.

"FIRE IN THE H-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-!-!-!"

That was Sousuke calling out, his instinct and experience taking over. He quickly reached into Kaname's school bag… removed a full-length parka… and slid it on.

Anyone who has seen 'Monty Python's Meaning of Life' would have felt a sense of déjà vu if they had been in that room now. Mr. Creosote, the enormously obese and remarkably rude diner at a fancy French restaurant, put on a gross but comical scene never before seen in the annals of film. A Maître d' said to him: 'Ah, good afternoon, sir; and how are we today?' Mr. Creosote answered: 'Better.' The Maître d' asked: 'Better?' And Mr. Creosote: 'Better get a bucket, I'm gonna throw up.' And that he did. In spectacular fashion.

Shoko was looking at Hisayuki when a geyser-like gush of projectile vomit exploded from his mouth, drenching Yoshinoro from head to toe. She in turn was blasted with stomach contents by Akemi, who was too slow to dodge Yoshinoro's vomitus. Noboru felt fortunate, uncomfortably bloated, but still dry and clean. That was short-lived. Powerful stream of puke struck him from each of his four fountaining friends.

"This is great!" Shinji spoke too soon. When Yoshinoro looked at him, he fired off another burst, striking the other boy square in the face, covering him, his desk, and a long straight line of floor tiles with chunks and fluid. A number of other students suffered a similar fate.

"Duck and cover!" Eri had seen some old class room teaching films from the U.S., made during the early stages of the Cold War. The students didn't know the context; but, they were quick learners. They jumped under their own desks, or whichever one was easiest to take shelter under.

"But-" One girl aimed for the same shelter as another girl. She was bowled over by a particularly strong blast of barf. She and a number of other students around her began throwing up as a result. It was a chain reaction.

"N-N-N-Not th-th-the C-Contract…." Hisayuki yelled out, managing to speak again. He used a bento box to block the opening of his desk, just a moment before Akemi flooded the area with her last jet of vomit. "Whew! Th-th-that was close." When he moved to protect his treasure, he did not notice the small red cylindrical object stuck onto it.

Sousuke had avoided the vomit. He hadn't been worried about that. His reflexes were good enough. He could have dodged anything coming his way. No, the poncho served another purpose. It was precautionary. He activated an app on his phone and pushed a button. A high intensity flare he tossed inside the self-styled bancho's desk lit up. The beloved parchment caught fire, burning rapidly, setting the desk on fire, too.

Wishi-wishi-wishi-wishi-wishi-wishi-wishi-wishi-wishi-wishi-wishi-wishi-wishi-wishi

The rather robust sprinkler system kicked in. An immense torrent of water began falling from the ceiling area, drenching everyone and everything. Like dishes in a dishwasher or cars in a car wash, the students were rinsed clean by the drastic deluge.

"Listen up!' Eri called out. "Just like a Fire Drill. Everybody grab what you can and head outside!" She looked over at Kaname Chidori. The girl was sitting at her desk calmly, like nothing was happening.

Talk about resourceful. That girl was ready for anything.

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Information was taken from'6 Japanese Subcultures That Are Insane (Even for Japan)' from , and other Google searches.

Check out Mr. Creosote on YouTube. The full scene. You will never be the same again.

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ENGLISH REDUX

Standing outside dripping, Eri sent one boy inside to grab a hamper of towels.

While everyone waited for their fellow student to roll that hamper outside, the teacher told her class that they would remain outside. No sense in getting the school hallways all wet. What better place to dry off than outside on a sunny day?

Inspired by the nightmare scene they had lived through, a group of boys were being boys, of course.

"Damn," a boy said. "I bought some fake vomit the other day. I thought that I could use it to freak the teacher out some day. What a waste. The joke's on me."

That one word spurred a friend to tell a joke. "Two drunks are laying on the floor, and one of them is sticking a finger in and out of the other drunk's ass. When a cop walks by and looks at the drunks, he says, 'What the hell are you two doing?' The first drunk replies, 'Oh, I'm just helping my friend vomit.' So the cop says, 'Do you think I'm stupid? Sticking your finger in his ass is no way to make your friend vomit.' 'Just wait until I stick it in his mouth,' replies the drunk."

"That's sick," another boy said. "I love it!"

"I got one! I got one!" A third boy said "A drunk walks into a bar, orders a shot and immediately pukes all over his own shirt. 'Wha' my gonna do now? My wifez gonna kill me.' 'Relax,' the bartender says, 'give me a five-dollar bill., The bartender folds up the bill and puts it in the guy's shirt pocket. 'Tell your wife some drunk puked on you and gave you five bucks to have your shirt cleaned.' 'That's a great idea!' When the drunk gets home his wife answers the door. 'Where have you been? What happened to your shirt?' He tries to put on a sober voice and says, 'Relaaax honey, some drunk guy puked on me and gave me five bucks to have my shirt cleaned.' The drunk's wife reaches in his pocket, grabs the money, and says, 'There's ten dollars in here!' 'Oh yeah, he shit my pants, too'."

"Gross, man." The one boy said. "Perfect!"

"How about this one," another wannabe comedian tossed out. "A cannibal vomits after his meal. You really can't keep a good man down."

"A drunk guy gets into a taxi," one boy said, not to be outdone. "He says 'Ehh.. 'scuse me, driver... would it be okay if.. I put a few beers, some fried chicken, two tequila shots and some rice on your back seat?' The confused driver says' Ehm… well…okay.' Then-" He made a loud retching noise.

Sousuke listen to the other boys joking. Well, he was still a boy at mind. Hearing them laugh, he felt a bit self-conscious. Even though he had been around a lot of jokers in his life, those who told jokes and others who were jokes, he had never really gotten into jokes. 'I have researched humor,' he thought, 'because I wonder why I never find anything funny'. He wondered if he was really missing out on something important in life. He thought about the personal and social functions of humor.

Humor is a relatively safe way to express taboos, especially one related to sex and aggression. Telling those types of jokes are natural needs for some people, and cannot be suppressed; so, jokes are a safe way to get those needs out of one's system. People use satire and other forms of humor to make fun of people in authority, like parents, politicians, the police, and teachers. But because political correctness has made certain groups into sacred cows too, they also became the target of jokes, as women, minorities, homosexuals, and disabled people have had the displeasure to discover. Humor is also an important tool in social cohesion, a way of sharing problems and experiences with like people, or a way to keep group members in line, toeing the line with group norms. Humor directed against things which frighten us helps us that fear under control and render those things less menacing. Intellectual humor allows people to escape the bounds of reality, and to indulge their capacity for originality and creativity, all while freeing them from the prison of logic and conformity.

Sousuke had never really felt the urge to tell jokes; but, he also never felt any need to grow close to another human being. They were, like he was, a function of whatever system he found himself in, and didn't see the logic in forming feelings of friendship for someone who might end up in a casket draped with a flag the next day. But, that had begun to change since he came to Jindai. That change had accelerated since he had been in this body. It was strange. The more that people were friendly with him, the more he found himself yearning for friendship. Was that a good thing? He could be sent back to the world of blood and body bags at any moment.

'Can I even tell jokes,' he asked himself, thinking himself lacking in cleverness. But, he did not have to invent the joke… he could simply repeat it. That was similar to using weapons, without ever being involved in their manufacture. And, he had not started off as an expert with guns, knives, or Arm Slaves. A number of people in his life had tried to explain jokes to him. He was pleasantly surprised that he remembered a lot of what he had been told, wanting to think about that subject seemingly for the first time.

'A good joke pleases everyone,' a long dead soldier had told him once before a mucked-up mission. 'Telling a joke is one of the best ways to ease tension, make a new friend, or light up a room…if you can get a laugh. Telling good jokes is comes naturally to some people… for others it takes practice and hard work.'

'You have to know your audience,' Kurz had told him, after a joke had earned him a punch from a pretty but proper nurse. 'You have to suit everything to your audience. Length of the joke. Subject matter. The way you tell the joke. What's funny to one group of people may not be funny to another group. Some people love or hate crude jokes; misogynist jokes; racist jokes; or jokes that go over their heads. Right, and jokes that talk about things they don't know anything about.'

'It's important to choose great material,' a cook at Merida island once said. Sousuke wished that man would be able to choose better cooking material. 'The gist of each joke is directed towards some target. And, you will aim the joke at your chosen target, a person or group of people. You need to pick the right joke for the targeted audience.' That was a lot of targets. The man had been an ace sniper before his eyesight went bad.

'Think of mission planning,' Lieutenant Commander Kalinin had once told him. 'The set-up for the joke should be realistic… but it should also be exaggerated. That opening of the joke should have a basis in the real world so that your audience can relate to it… but; it should also have some exaggeration about it, because this is what gives a joke its humorous edge. The bread and butter of battle planning is what brings troops safely home. The grand flourishes can bring great victory, or crushing defeat. I recommend the former.'

'Punchlines are the key,' Mao had told him once, while she was pounding the hell out of a heavy bag in DaDanaan's small exercise cabin. She rarely told jokes, showing her sense of humor in proportion to the amount of alcohol consumed. 'It's best when it's a surprise. Just like a kick to the coconuts. The ending of the joke is where the payoff comes in, what makes the joke succeed or fail. Some jokes have an additional punchline that plays of the original punchline, sometimes twisting back on it in a surprising way. Like grabbing a nutsack and twisting it until it almost snaps off.'

'When you get comfortable telling jokes.,' he once overheard Commander Mardukas telling a mechanic in the TDD-1's hangar area. It was amazing he allowed himself to remember anything that man had said on the subject of humor. That was the last man he ever expected to tell a joke. 'Make the joke your own. Lots of jokes rehash the same ground and sometimes they retell a story countless other jokes have told. For your joke to be funny, it is sometimes best to surprise the audience in some way, making the joke seem original or new. Sometimes, tailoring a joke to your own special life experiences can help do that.' He had to admit, the senior officer was rarely ever wrong.

He had heard other things from other people. Practicing rhythm. Relaxing and acting confident. Varying speed and tenor of the voice. Pausing before the punchline Telling your joke with a smile, not with a laugh. Just like there were many ways to approach a strafing run, there were many ways to tell jokes.

His thoughts on humor came to an end, when Eri called everyone to attention. She told the class that there was an opportunity to finish the day's assignment, even with most everyone standing there in a dripping huddle. Everyone except the five yanki, who had made a beeline for the street out front of the school. One was holding a dry cell phone. Though faint now, a growing roar of motorcycles could be heard.

"Kaname, what literature did you choose?" Eri said.

"Uhhh." Sousuke didn't know the answer to that. What had Kaname chosen? It didn't really matter, right? Kaname wasn't here. Only her body was here. "I-" Sousuke hadn't done the assignment. He hadn't been in class the day it was handed out. "You see…." What could he do?

Inspiration came from a number of sources. One of the magazines he had read the night before was 'Reader's Digest'. A recurring theme for the past couple of days was jokes. Jokes by the scientists. Jokes on the flight to DaDanaan. Jokes about hair color. Jokes about cancer. And, jokes about vomit. He had also given serious thoughts to the overall subject of humor just a short while before.

"I read Reader's Digest," Sousuke said. The jokes on the helicopter were annoying. The jokes on the TDD-1 were embarrassing. The jokes about Kaname's mother were infuriating. The magazine had something better than all of that. It had jokes that some people found amusing. Kaname had drawn stars next to some of the ones in that publication. "A publication caught my attention when I read about various holidays in America which have been adopted in this country. Some long ago, and some just recently." Not by coincidence, the 'Humor' portion of the magazine followed suit by providing holiday-based jokes amongst the usual fare..

"But-" Eri looked puzzled. The assignment was about notable novels or literary works. But, this was Kaname Chidori. Her choice had to be good, right?

Sousuke began by spraying his target audience rapid fire, in a rush to get things out. He had looked at Kaname's watch. There wasn't too much time left in class. If he could stall long enough with this strategy, he could put things on hold until Kaname was back in class. Hopefully tomorrow. "Question: Are any Halloween monsters good at math? Answer: No…. unless you Count Dracula! Question: How do vampires start their letters? Answer: 'Tomb it may concern…' Question: What is Easter Bunny's favorite kind of music? Answer: Hip-hop, of course! Question: What's the Easter Bunny's favorite restaurant? Answer: IHOP! Question: Why are bunnies the luckiest animals? Answer: Because they each have four rabbit's feet."

The students all looked at each other. If the day's events hadn't been strange enough. What was Kaname doing? They had all done work on literary masterpieces or modern novels of note. She was telling jokes. Corny jokes. Literally:

"Question: What has a thousand ears but cannot hear a thing," Sousuke continued. "Answer: a cornfield." He heard someone groan. He paused a moment and took a step back. No one was going to begin the vomit cascade again, were they? He'd shorten things a bit. That was he could get more rounds on target. "Why aren't dogs good dancers? Because they have two left feet! How do dog catchers get paid? By the pound! What do chemists' dogs do with their bones? They barium! Never trust math teachers who use graph paper. They're always plotting something."

The students were groaning, but some had smiles on their faces. Eri just stood with her face in her hands.

"Why didn't the sun go to college?" Sousuke used the looks on the other student's face the way he would use tracers. "Because it already had a million degrees!" He was hitting the target. If only he could hit Ms. Kagurazaka, his mission might succeed. "Why couldn't the astronaut book a room on the moon? It was full! What do you call someone who can't stick with a diet? A desserter. 'I would like vitamins for my son,' a mother said. 'Vitamin A, B or C?' the pharmacist asked. 'It doesn't matter,' the mother replied. 'He can't read yet'."

"Shit!" Ono-D tried to sound desultory. He failed.

"That one was good!" Shinji chuckled.

"My girlfriend walked out on me for being too old fashioned," Sousuke resumed. "I thought we had good alchemy." He still hadn't figured that one out; but, his classmates probably would. "My wife always prefers the stairs, whereas I always like to take the elevator. I guess we are raised differently." He got that one. "What kind of dog chases anything red? A Bulldog. How are a dog and a marine biologist alike? One wags a tail and the other tags a whale. What do you get when you cross a dog and a calculator? A friend you can count on. What does my dog and my phone have in common? They both have collar I.D."

"Oh Kaname," Kyouko said, sighing. She couldn't help feeling a bit cheery, though.

"You go girl," Maya said.

"What did one math book say to the other? Don't bother me I've got my own problems!" Sousuke had gotten off the landing craft and into the water. He was getting close to the beach. The teacher had her face out of her hands. There was a quizzical look on that face. Here's a teacher joke then. Maybe that would personalize things for her. "The teacher said: 'Why are you doing your multiplication on the floor?' The student answered: 'You told me not to use tables'. What kind of music are balloons afraid of? Pop Music. Me and my friends are in a band called 'Duvet'. We're a cover band. What does a ghost call his mom and dad? His transparents." Sousuke stretched his brain to the limit, trying to remember what he had read. "Him: 'I love you'. Her: 'Is that you or the wine talking?' Him: 'It's me talking to the wine.' What's a nymphomaniac? A woman as obsessed with sex as the average man. What is the biggest lie in the entire universe? 'I have read and agree to the Terms & Conditions'."

"This sure as shit beats Shakespeare," one boy said.

"Tell me about it!" A girl agreed.

"Do you know what's ironic about Alcoholics Anonymous?" Sousuke asked everyone. "The founder of AA asked for whiskey on his deathbed. And how about this! In a hilarious example of irony, a McDonalds' employee health page, which is now shut down, once warned against eating McDonald's burgers and fries."

"Oooo-ooo-oo-oh." Shiori moaned. "I don't want to think about food now."

"A pile of vomit walks into a bar," Ono-D said, a snarky look on his face. "'What's wrong', the barkeep asked."

"I know this one!" Shinji stole his friends thunder. "The vomit says: 'Sorry to be all sentimental, but this is where I was brought up'." He grimaced when Onodera kicked him in the seat of his pants.

"This is my project," Sousuke said sharply. If things got out of hand he might be expected to supply a serious subject matter. "Speaking of holidays. Every year the American channel ABC cuts down 'A Charlie Brown Christmas'… a movie about the over-commercialization of the holiday… to make room for more commercials Do you know what's ironic about Julius Caesar? The site where he was murdered in 44 BC is now a no-kill animal shelter for homeless cats. Do you know what's ironic about a man who survived going over Niagara Falls? The first man to survive going over Niagara Falls in a barrel died after slipping on an orange peel. Here's a great one. What's ironic about the inventor of Liquid Paper? She was fired from her secretarial job for failing to white-out a mistake. What's ironic about Q-tips? Even though they are bought primarily to clean inside ears, they are sold in boxes that expressly warn: 'Do not insert inside the ear canal'."

"Okay…" Eri was smiling. Not because of the jokes, but because she was amazed once again by Kaname Chidori. If only the Black Sheep of the class, Sousuke Sagara, could be more like her. She had found a way to raise all of her fellow student's spirits, after a very harrowing experience. But, she herself had a duty to enforce some kind or order. "That was all very amusing Kaname. How about your real assignment?"

Sousuke peaked at the watch again. Good. He had made it. "It's about the commercialization of fairy tales and folklore. The specific comparison is between the Disney movie 'Pinnochio', and the original children's novel 'The Adventures of Pinocchio' written in 1883 by Italian writer Carlo Collodi. The original story was not English, but the version I read was in English." The warning bell sounded through the outside speakers. It was time to move on. As luck had it, the boy returned with the hamper of towels. He had brought a hair-drier along, too. He was well meaning, if not too clever. He hadn't brought a thirty-yard long extension cord. "That is too bad," Sousuke said. "It would have been instructive." He knew that tomorrow's assignment was something totally different."

"That's alright," Eri said. "I think I will repeat this assignment same day next week, since it was penciled-in as a subject solely of my choice. You'll be fist up. Since I really like your subject choice, you'll get double the time."

Sousuke just stood there, mouth moving like that of a fish out of water. Next week he would be Sousuke again, and Kaname would be Kaname. That meant that she would have to do the assignment. He might get hung from a tree like the original puppet!

The sound of revving engines was much louder now. It was made up by the sound of dozens of tricked out motorcycles. Stepping just behind a tree so no one could see what he was doing, he took a small collapsible spyglass out of his pocket and surveyed the gathering down the hill. It was the bōsōzoku. And, the five soaking wet delinquents were standing there talking with them in animated fashion. They kept pointing at the school building.

"It is a problem," Sousuke said, watching as his classmates headed inside. He had no weapons. He couldn't use them, even if he did have them. "Wait! A weapon! And the will to use it!" There was a chance. He would check things out. If luck was on his slide, he may have come up with the solution. He ran towards the side of the school, hoping to see a particular person standing at a specific site. Crouching behind a row of tall and stout bushes, he pushed a couple apart and peered beyond them. "Asset sighted!"

"Here you go, Buttercup." Mr. Oonuki was throwing pellets of fish food into a pond walled off by stones. "Some for you too, Blossom. And you Bubbles. I haven't forgot you Mojo, or you Jojo." He was speaking to his prized koi. "Daddy's had a bad day today. I had to clean a lot of shit up… literally. And Betty Lou had to cut a maniac down to size. But at least I can take things easy for a while."

"Nnnn nnnn-nnn-nn-n." Sousuke purposely cleared his voice very loudly.

"Who's there?" The custodian turned to stare at the bushes.

I must keep my identity secret." Sousuke said. "Call me Deep Throat." He disguised his voice as best he could, trying to speak as low as he could. He was referring to Mark Felt, one-time Associate Director of the FBI, who had acted as an anonymous source in the Watergate scandal. He was not referring to the 70s pornographic movie 'Deep Throat'.

"Well…" Mr. Oonuki put the top on his fish food cannister. The look on his face said clearly that someone would pay for the interruption of his family time. "Why are you looking for me, Mister Throat?"

"Because I respect you highly," Sousuke said. "And I know how difficult you job is." He was laying it on thick, but the man's posture suggested that he was taking it all in. "There has been another tragedy. One worse than the monstrous mess in Mathematics class."

"What?" The janitor pulled an imaginary rip cord, and held an imaginary chainsaw. The real one was not too far away. "How?" His face was clouding over. "Who?" His smile was a frightening sight. Even Gauron would have been taken aback, if he were still among the living.

"Vomit everywhere," Sousuke reported. "More than anyone has ever seen before." He readied the verbal knife. "Some of it roasted by the fire damage."

"Vomit!" Mr. Oonuki looked ready to explode himself. "Fire damage!" The fire in class was cool in comparison to the man's growing rage. "Tell… me… names…"

"I can do better than that," Sousuke said amiably. "I can show you where to find them. Listen. Hear that racket. That is the five yanki, meeting with their cronies in the bōsōzoku. The perpetrators were all laughing, calling it a great gag, a historic happening, a way to stick it to the Man." He paused, sticking the knife in deeper. "But I think they chose the wrong man." That ought to do it. Now, to aim the enraged bull at the right china shop. "They knew that no one can touch them. No one can make them pay for their transgressions. It would take an army."

"I have an army," the janitor said in a voice that even made Sousuke feel frightened. "An army of two." A chainsaw fired up. "Time to go chop up some sushi!" He cursed. "Sorry girls, I didn't mean you." Fish finally reassured, he shambled down the hill, headed towards the noisy crowded street.

Sousuke took out the spyglass again. He had expected some order of mayhem, but not as much as he soon witnessed. People in a bōsōzoku do not like their bikes to be touched, not even in the teensiest weensiest way. Mr. Oonuki did a great deal more than touch them. And soon, as luck would have it, things would multiply, many times over.

"She's like a bad penny," Sousuke said. "She always comes back."

Wakana rushed into the melee, riding the same bicycle that Sousuke had set aside before entering the school. Not too far behind her, a number of firearms precariously perched in her lap, Rebecca rolled up in her wheel chair, a large belt of grenades slung over one shoulder.

That was one monstrous team. It was as if Freddy had teamed up with Jason, instead of fighting against him.

"My work is here is done," Sousuke said, heading back inside.

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Material was taken from 'The 5 Functions of Humor (Psychology of Humor)' on unbounded and 'How to Tell a Joke' on WikiHow

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PREP TIME

Kaname Chidori is a very busy young woman.

Yes, today, working in a far out laboratory with even more far out personnel, she had her hands full.

But, it was more than that, as Sousuke found out yet again. There was a project that Kaname had worked diligently on, which was coming into fruition now. The strange visitors to the high school gave good evidence of that.

"This-" Sousuke had doffed his poncho, and was content that there would be no further trouble that day from crazy police officers, wacky janitors, problematic yanki, or brazen biker gangs. The aforementioned combatants were keeping each other busy, and things did not look too promising for the bad guys. "Why-"

One of Tokyo's… no, many of Japan's… numerous yuru-kyara squeezed past the young mercenary on it's way to who knows where. It was Kumamon, a mascot created by the government of Kumamoto Prefecture, Japan. The five foot tall bear with black glossy fur, circular red cheeks and wide, staring eyes was soon joined by Domo-kun, the official mascot of Japan's public broadcaster NHK. The large square brown creature had an open saw-toothed mouth and stubby arms. After a few more seconds went by, a whole line of yuru-kyara came shuffling into the building, some carrying signs about fighting cancer, and others carrying bags of T-shirts and adorable plushies.

"Hello," a mascot shaped like a pink fig-shaped penguin with an enema head said. It was Kan-chan, the mascot for a medical company that make fig-based laxatives and enemas. "Have you seen Kaname Chidori?" He was only the first mascot to ask that question. In succession, Sousuke was accosted by Fukka-chan, a leak-eared cross between a rabbit and a deer, the symbol of Fukaya city in Saitama… Jumbal III, is the watermelon king and ruler of the Jumbo watermelons in Nyuzen city… Benki-Shiroishi, a toilet-headed blues singer sitting on a toilet, mascot of Sanpoll toilet disinfectant… Hikonyan, a samurai cat introduced to celebrate the 400th anniversary of the founding of Hikone Castle… Waka-P, a six-foot tall Mandarin orange representing Wakayama Women's Prison…

"I have not seen Miss Chidori today," Sousuke said, partly true. He had seen Kaname Chidori's body, but he would not call himself Kaname Chidori. Other people seemed so inclined, as one might expect. But, that was neither here nor there. With all that had gone on already since the fateful incident at the Neurological hospital, he was just waiting for the next shoe to drop. "Why do all of you want to see Kaname?' He asked the empty hallway, as the last mascot in line had turned a corner, gone from sight. "That will be a large number of targets to survey. It may be difficult determining their intentions."

"Excuse me," another line of mascots was getting off of a large bus. "I am looking for a blue-haired girl." It was Chitan, a beige and white otter wearing a turtle for a hat. The mischievous and previously sanctioned yuru-kyara was employed by the tourist board of Tokyo's 'Electric Town', Akihabara, but also moonlights as a mascot for the city of Susaki. "We need to grab a Kaname Chidori," someone added, with a poor choice of words. Kaparu, a lime-green mascot kappa and winner of the mascot Yuru Chara Grand Prix festival in 2018, was dreamed up by the city of Shiki, in Saitama Prefecture, to promote local culture and sporting events. "We need to find out everything she knows." Out of context, that was a bit like a match to a fuse. The one talking was Jimmy Hattori, the pink and black condom-helmeted ninja who promotes safe sex in Japan. "We'll give her back when we're done with her," a mascot joked, trying to be cute. Chihana-chan, the flower-headed Mascot of Chiba City, was indeed kawaii; but, the joke fell flat, and lay there like unexploded ordinance.

"I will search for His Excel-" Sousuke coughed. "I will try and find the President of the Student Council." He lied. "His name is Atsunobu Hayashimizu. He will know where to find the class rep. Please wait here." He felt a bit irate, when the mascots turned and headed in the same direction the others had. He had to admit that they had little choice. A large number of yuru-kyara were shoving from behind, trying to make it inside, out of the wind. Small in size by comparison, Sousuke was shielded from view by a sea of mascots, so that a number of them thought they were speaking out of earshot of anyone from the school.

"We're going to get a lot of money for this," one mascot said, referring to the money they hoped to earn for Cancer Research, by getting pledges via a telethon to be set up outside of the gymnasium. "Yeh. It will be fun to see who hits the target first." That mascot was referring to a monetary goal. "It really doesn't matter who it is," the next mascot in the door said. "We all win. If we prove ourselves here, we'll be in high demand. No one will be able to stop us." Mascots generated a great deal of money for Japan each year, in the billions of yen, by way of products sold, souvenirs bought, fundraising activities, and by acting as walking advertisements.

There are now so many mascots that people are losing track of which mascot is which, as well as the products, teams, programs, organizations and social movements they were created to represent in the first place. Mascots needed a way to stand out and grab attention. In Tokyo alone there are around two-hundred and fifty mascots, working at theme parks, tourist sites and even government offices, and that's not even counting the mascots hired for company promotions or the ones representing different branches of the armed services, nuclear power plants, and technology centers.

"They are so blatant," Sousuke said to himself, putting distance between himself and the adorable mascots. "They are speaking so openly about their plans… a way of hiding in plane sight I suppose… who would ever suspect a mascot!" What should he do? If he simply hid, they would not be able to find him, even if they took a captive who could identify him… 'her.' But, they might not leave without tearing the school apart… torturing countless innocents… or calling in attack dogs who could sniff clothing taken from Kaname's locker.

The mascots were dispersing, speaking to as many people as they could. The Vice Principle directed a good many towards the gym. The Principle offered refreshments that had been set aside for the visitors. Eri was there too. "You'll love Kaname," she said. "She's very inspirational." The poor woman was oblivious. She didn't know the danger she was in. The danger they were all in.

"I must say I am impressed with how calm you've all been," It was Nishiko-kun, a gray white and black mascot who looked like a dog trapped in a flower stenciled on a hat box. He was speaking to the teacher. "Most people get very excitable in circumstances like these."

"That's right…" The next one speaking was Sanomaru, 2013 mascot Grand Prix winner from Sano city, with his big puppy eyes and a bowl of ramen spilled over his head. "We don't want anyone here to lose their head…." That was a mascot joke, given the detachable costume headpieces."

To Sousuke's credit, he hadn't given in entirely to his paranoia and unfortunate habit of misconstruing things that he heard. He wanted to be certain that he wasn't getting too hot under the collar too quickly. He didn't want to be sending rounds into a populated area without a spotter, so to speak. But, it only needed another shove to fire up the reptile brain again.

"Hey… that's not a mascot…." Muay Thaishi remarked, or at least the person inside of the Kickboxing sea-fish representing the Thai embassy did. "That's… that's…."

"Gloomy Bear," another mascot said with a sense of annoyance. This was their gig. The whole program was supposed to be cute. Cute and friendly. Gloomy Bear the animated character was anything but friendly. "What's he doing here?" That was Tom the Jelly Bean, the mascot of the American embassy.

"This might be a problem," Sousuke said stolidly. "It is good that Kaname is not here. She is not equipped to deal with danger. I am." He doubled down on that truth. "I am overqualified."

It was not just the sight of the newcomer; it was the sound and the smell. The mascot-like figure was not cute, at least not in the regular way. The base design was kawaii; the added characteristics made it incredibly popular with some crowds. Not versed in yuru-kyara, Sousuke did not know that the seven-foot figure standing before him was not precisely a mascot in design. That didn't matter to him. He was concerned that the construction of the huge pink bear held secrets of the most sinister type.

Any number of students at Jindai High would have recognized Gloomy Bear, at least in its plushie form, or from YouTube videos. The accurate costume was not sanctioned by Mori Chack, the Japanese graphic designer and father of gloomy bear. The story goes that Gloomy Bear was abandoned as a cub and is found and taken in by a boy named Pity. Pity loves him and cares for him, raising him from that point forward. At first Gloomy is cute and cuddly but as he grows, his more instinctual side takes over and he does what any adult bear might do to a human, he mauls the bejesus out of him. And so it goes: Pity loves, Gloomy attacks, over and over again. Chack's creation was meant to be an antithesis to the excessively cute products produced by Disney, Sanrio's Hello Kitty, and other companies… not to mention the mascot craze itself.

The irony of it all was that Hiroshi Tachikawa was indeed a mascot actor. He was the heart and soul of Swatton, a ballet dancing half-swan half-pig representative of Hamatorbetsu Town. His mascot costume had been damaged by a dry cleaner. That was a tragedy. He had lost a well-paying position that was under the aegis of a design and development team of the Japanese Army, and needed every yen he could make; his daughter suffered from Hodgkin Disease, and her medical treatment was expensive. His wife couldn't work; she spent all of her time looking after their little girl.

"Hey, Missy-" Hiroshi said to Sousuke. "I'm looking for-" The large pink bear, with blood-red stains on his chest and blood below his closed jaws, looked down on one paw. On the palm, nestled between enormous sharp metal claws, there was something written in smudged Sharpie ink. "Kanned Squidie?"

"Kaname Chidori," Sousuke said in a cold deadpan voice. All sorts of alarms were sounding within his head. The mascot smelled of metal, hydraulic fluid, and if he was not mistaken, extremely powerful lithium batteries. The sound it made when it moved was more than something a cloth-covered human being could make. He felt a cold chill go down his spine. Could it be an Arastol, one of Leonard Testarossa's powerful robots, with either a very convincing A.I. and voice emulator, or one remotely-piloted and projecting a controller's voice through a speaker?

"That's the name!" Hiroshi said. "Where can I find her?" He had built a powered exoskeleton for the army in his little home shop, just before being let go. And before his unfortunate release, he had made a Gloomy Bear costume for his daughter's birthday celebration, and placed it over his marvelous mechanical creation, so that he could bring the bear to life in a dramatic way. His wife refused to let him bring something that gory to a party for six-year-olds; but, no matter, his capricious little darling had switched favorites again. He hired Shinobi-chan, a retired pink ninja mascot who had been an advocate for CS Accounting. A week later, the actor would help him find work in the yuru-kyara industry.

"I do not-" Sousuke began to say. He was going to deny the bear's request. Instead, an idea came to mind. It would require a slight bit of disobedience; but, no one at Mithril would find out. He had to trust in his sixth sense. Lives were at stake. If he was wrong, he could live with the repercussions. He had been doing that the entire time he was at school. "I believe you can find her in the gym." He could kill a lot of birds with one stone. After all, that was the eventual destination of all of the arriving mascots.

"Great!" Hiroshi replied. "Do you think you can show me the way there?"

"Affirmative," Sousuke said, leading the homemade mascot fill-in to the gymnasium. As he waved the bear into the large room, he hurried off to a restricted area, a part of the school undergoing renovation. He headed over to a large green metal bin with a large heavy cover. To all the world, it looked like an over-sized dumpster. There was a large concealed door at one end.

"This is Urzu-7," he said to the ersatz garbage container. "Access code zero zero seven seven niner. Open Sesame." The door slid open. Nestled inside, system kept ready by a sophisticated electric charger, Bonta-kun stood in all of its glory.

Back at the gym, the large pink bear stepped into the room. "Oh… so everybody is here already…." Hiroshi scanned the surroundings. All of the walls were lined by mascots, standing shoulder to shoulder, talking amongst themselves as best as their costumes allowed.

"Not everyone," an eggplant-headed dog said. That was Oisenasu-kun, mascot of the Nasu Animal Kingdom. "A few are still talking to the school bigwigs. They should be here any minute."

"And a few of us are still looking for that student who arranged everything," That was Kanzou-kun, the elephant/liver hybrid mascot that encourages hepatitis screening in Tokyo.

"Miss Chidori was very nice on the telephone," the woman in the Nishiko-kun costume remarked. "My mother also died of cancer. And, coincidentally, we each have a sister named Ayame still living with our fathers. Mine is in France, however." Little did the actor know that the conversation was picked up on by a microphone. The words were garbled. All that was decipherable had been 'Chidori', 'sister,' and 'Ayame.'

The gymnasium lights were on low. Broad beams of light slanted down into the room, giving it an otherworldly feel. The gym teacher was late; he was severely constipated, and was doing his best to move things along. The lights would have to wait.

A volleyball net had been pushed to one side, along with a horse, parallel bars, and rolled-up exercise mats. Large platforms and artistic constructs on wheels were present at the center of the brightly polished floor, along with fanciful props and tools intended for the show that the mascots would put on outside for the telethon. Everything would be wheeled outside when the time was right. The school's students would not be lucky enough to see the proceedings live; but, most of the world's population were in luck.

Double doors on one wall opened slightly and stopped, blocked by a mass of mascots. They stepped aside. An unexpected mascot walked into the room with the swagger of a deadly desperado.

"Look… it's Moffle," Kumamon said. His mistake was understandable. Both 'Full Metal Panic?: Fumoffu' and 'Amagi Brilliant Park' are animated by Kyoani, based on light novels written by Gatoh Shoji, and directed by Takemoto Yasuhiro. Moffle was purposefully based on Bonta-kun, and ended everything that he said with '-fumo.'

"No, idiot," Domo-kun said rudely. "It's Bonta-kun."

"I thought that mascot had been retired when Fumo Fumo Land closed," Chitan's actor said. "I used to-" He had intended to mention that he had loved going to that amusement park as a child, but was interrupted by a dramatic admonishment.

"When you chose to target Kaname Chidori," Sousuke said. His words came out as 'Fumo fumo fumo.' "You chose to be retired yourself." 'That came out as 'Fumo fumoffu.' The vocoder in the small A.S. still needed to be turned on for the powered suit to function.

"Listen Bonta-Buddy," Hiroshi said. His suit had a voice system too. His words came out as 'Gloomy Gloomy.' "I'm just here to-" He was cut-off.

"Shut up!" Sousuke said. Strangely enough, there were people in the room who could understand Bonta-speak. Hiroshi was one of them. Similarly, the small A.S. could decipher Gloomy-talk. "We are specialists. There should be no lies between our kind." No everyone their had bizarre linguistics skills. They scratched their head, wondering what the hell 'Fumo Fumo Fumoruru fumo fumo fumoffu' meant. They had little time to contemplate the mystery. They watched in shock as Bonta-kun charged straight at the other bear.

"That guy is seriously nuts," one mascot said, the only one with the good sense to flee the room. It was Senhor Testiculo, also known as Mr. Testicle or Mr. Balls. He is a Brazilian mascot that goes around reminding men to check themselves for testicular cancer. The AAPEC, a Brazilian cancer foundation, describes Mr. Balls as a 'friendly and hairy snowman in the shape of testicles.' That's just wishful thinking. He simply looks like a giant hairy flesh-colored scrotum.

"Is this part of the show?" The man inside the Reruhi-san mascot asked. His costume is based on Theodor Elder von Lerch, an Austrian Major General who went to Japan as 'an ambassador to winter leisure sports'. His yellow outfit is somewhere between a snowsuit and an old-fashioned pair of pajamas.

"I'm not sure," the actor playing Unari-kun replied. He was the official mascot of Narita City in Chiba Prefecture, and had defeated 1,157 rivals from localities nationwide to win that year's Grand Prix. He's half airplane, half eel and has 33,500 followers on Twitter.

"I wish I had some popcorn," Fukka-chan remarked.

"I wish I had a beer," Kaparu said.

"Shit!" Hiroshi said. "Suit on!" Power amped up in an instant. The exoskeleton was the Japanese equivalent of the 'Guardian XO' by Sarcos Robotics and Lockheed 'Onyx' devices used by the U.S. Army, and a Russian suit, the 'Ratnik-3'. "Who ever you are, you're fucked in the head. But, okay. Bring it on!"

Most in the room heard 'Gloomy gloomy gloomy gloomy gloomity gloomity gloom!'

The two powered suits hurled themselves head-on in a remarkable rush. To the watching mascots, it was as if Godzilla was heading for a charging Megalon, or Ultra-man was speeding to put an extra big hurt on a rumbling Dinozaur.

Soon, the action was almost too fast to follow. Punches flashed out. Colossal kicks landed. The opponents jumped, slid, rolled, and leaped again. Large fake scimitars lashed out in a titanic duel. Giant hula-hoops were thrown over bodies, to bind arms or legs, but were burst asunder by powerful mechanical muscles. Each adversary ran to giant circus cannons, loaded loose items inside, and fired the prop weapons, using the flying objects as a way to hinder the vision of the other fighter, before rushing in again.

'Fumo fumo!' Sousuke shouted "Not bad!"

"Gloomy gloom!" Hiroshi replied with "Back at you!"

Neither combatant realized that a blonde reporter and film crew had walked inside from their outside location, bring their equipment with them when they heard a rather loud ruckus. Originally unhappy having been sent to a high school to film yet another mascot missive, they cheered up watching the earth-shattering spectacle.

"Tell me you're getting this," the woman said in a rush. This would be much more exciting than the piece they had done on legal Japanese dogfights, where twenty-five thousand dogs were registered, many of them the Tosa, a rather large descendant of the old English mastiff, a massive beast that sometimes weighed as much as 200 pounds. Japanese tradition has it that the modern Tosa originated in the seventeenth century, when an English frigate struck a reef in Tosa Bay on the eastern side of Shikoku, the smallest of the four Japanese home islands. The inhabitants of that time were not noted for their hospitality, and what became of the captain and crew of the ship was never recorded. But, in the wreckage of the frigate, according to the legend, the Japanese found a huge, brown dog, whose instinct as a fighter led him to defeat all the best local dogs. "This will get us more praise than the potato gun segment!"

"We're good," a camera man replied.

"This is Maya Demizu, bringing you the news from Jindai Municipal High School-" the pretty blonde said. "-The site of a wonderful and hopefully profitable event, one which has brought many of Japan's cheerful and charitable mascots together for a fight against cancer. And if that fight is anything like the fight that I'm going to show you now, then cancer doesn't stand a chance!" She told the cameraman to 'zoom in' and 'capture every bit of mayhem possible.'

What seemed like an eternity, only took a mere three minutes more. To the onlookers, things seemed to move in slow motion, every move and counter-move etched into their brains.

"It's big! It's beautiful! It's a Battling Bear Bonanza," Maya said. "Two of Japan's cherished figures are duking it out in a ballet of blows. A duel for the ages. Pokemon… Street Fighter… Knives Out… who out there doesn't love a good throw-down? Kids… and parents, too… don't try this at home!"

"We have confirmation," a sound technician announced. "The feed is good. The broadcast is a 'go' on every service in every nation." That meant that the show would also be readily available for Mithril, Amalgam, and militaries everywhere.

Sousuke used Kaname's suplex move, and every other move he had seen when Lieutenant Commander Kalanin surprisingly showed him American Pro Wrestling and Mexican Lucha Libre when he asked his subordinate over for 'voluntary' borscht.

His opponent was no slouch, having grown up with his eyes glued to the television set, watching movies about Bruce Lee and Ip man, and countless martial arts movies of every stripe.

A pretty glitter-covered rainbow the size of a small horse was swung like the vicious Arakh of Khal Drogo. A long pole topped with a stallion's head, made for make-believe riding by mascots, was used for some serious striking. Huge decorative stuffed animals were tossed like deadly dodge balls, only to be slice in two or torn in half, causing huge clouds of fluff and sawdust to explode everywhere. The fighters ran through giant sets, one shaped like a fanciful castle, and another looking like a large house made of candy. Great splashes of water flew everywhere, as they sloshed through a water-filled beach scene.

A cry went up from the massed mascots and camera crew alike, not to mention the telethon personnel who had headed inside. The watching mascots were jumping up and down, shouting out their catch phrases and making their characteristic noises. Some did shadow boxing and others did poor imitations of wushu, imagining that they were in the fight too, but happy that they were safe and sound on the sidelines.

"This reminds me of my first marriage," Maya Demizu said.

"It reminds me of supper time," a telethon host remarked, the tenth of eleven children.

Fuuuuuuu-mooooo Fuuuuuu-mooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Gloooooo-meeeeee Glooooo-meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Gloomy Bear took a prodigious leap, soaring halfway to the ceiling, his clawed arms out like the wings of a great predatory bird. Bonta-kun jumped straight up underneath it, body stretched out in a Superman pose.

There was a catastrophic collision.

And then, things were over.

F-U-M-O-!-!-!-!

A triumphant Bonta-Kun stood on the chest of a prone Gloomy Bear. Sousuke piloted the A.S. off of his fallen foe and extended an arm down to him. "You fought well," he said, a gracious victor. "You chose the wrong girl to kidnap."

"Kidnap?" Hiroshi sounded winded, and quite probably bruised over every bit of his body. "Kidnap? Who said anything about a kidnapping?" He took the bear's huge headpiece off, so he could better breath fresh air into his laboring lungs. "We're all here to put on a show for charity. You know. To combat cancer, not each other."

"Uhhhhhh…." Sousuke gulped. "Show?"

"Yes. A show." That was the head host of the telethon, a dark-haired man with a two small bushes of hair perched above greatly oversized ears. He obviously could make out Bonta-kun's voice too. "I don't know either of you two mascots; but, I'm certain you will be the stars of the entire broadcast." He spoke in a quiet voice that only he, Hiroshi, and the still buttoned-up Sousuke could hear. As coincidence would have it, he was a big fan of dog fighting and Pokemon. "I'd like to sign both of you up. I'm thinking about starting a Mascot Fighting Club!"

"How much!" Hiroshi's eyes were huge and practically glowing.

"-" Bonta-kun said nothing. Sousuke suddenly piloted the powerful little A.S. back from whence he had early come. He was sweating heavily, breathing hard, heart beating like crazy.

The fact that he had been televised was a shock. But, at least his identity was a secret. A secret to those who didn't know about the Bonta-Kun fighting suit. And, he should say Kaname's identity. He quickly stashed the A.S. away, just in case Wakana was still anywhere nearby. He felt a bit on edge, fearing that he might get a frantic phone call from Kalinin or Clouseau.

"At least there is no kidnapping."

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Gloomy Bear truly exists. He is indeed quite violent, as his clips on YouTube show.

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PREP TIME REDUX

"I need to get to the meeting room," Sousuke told himself after he had locked Bont-kun's container.

He wondered what P.E. class would entail, if they were not using the gymnasium or going outside. He understood why they were not using the gym. The mascots were gathering there. Perhaps the outdoor facilities might be off limits because of the telethon.

"We were told to report in our street clothes," he said. That would save him some time. He didn't spend any more time thinking through the mystery. He was still too frazzled after the fight with Gloomy Bear, and the realization that he had been so far off base. It was one thing to be a loose cannon as Sousuke Sagara. It was an altogether different thing to go ballistic as Kaname Chidori. How much largesse might he get, using the Traumatic Brain Injury excuse? But, leading mascots to the gym wasn't a transgression. And no one could place Kaname Chidori inside of Bonta-kun. But, his actions throughout that day were still quite different than the way Kaname would normally behave. Then again, nobody would blame her for the traps in match class, or the gastric projectiles in English class. He was having trouble keeping things straight. Where did Sousuke Sagara end and Kaname Chidori begin?

"I-" He swallowed hard. "I need to become more zen." It truly was in Kaname's best interest that he tone things down, just the same. The last thing that Kaname might want was a directive from school administrators, one that sent her for mandatory psychiatric examination… or an MRI! Then again, the Principal might ask the school Nurse which hospital to send her to, and the health care provider might very well select The Tokyo Neurological Center. Talk about irony!

He quickened his pace, muttering to himself again. "Be the ball… be the ball… be the ball… don't screw up… don't screw up… do… not… screw… up…."

He slid to a sudden stop, wind-milling his arms to keep from performing a rather embarrassing face plant. Good at quick covert movements in his own body, he was adequately elusive in his current form. Silently, he concealed himself behind a large potted glossy-leaf paper plant, also known as the false castor oil plant, or Japanese aralia. He carefully pushed a few leaves apart to get an unobstructed view of the scene ahead.

"No.. no… no…" A dumpy bearded man said, rolled up sleeves revealing a tattoo of an eagle riding a lightning bolt, against the background of a black and red striped shield. That was a design favored by GROM, Grupa Reagowania Operacyjno-Manewrowego, one of the five special operation forces units of the Polish Armed Forces. "Who taught you? Were you even taught? The Nikon D850 has a shutter travel time of about 2.4ms. A full-power flash from a modern built-in or hot shoe mounted electronic flash has a typical duration of about 1ms, or a little less, so the minimum possible exposure time for even exposure across the sensor with a full-power flash is about 2.4ms + 1.0 ms = 3.4ms, corresponding to a shutter speed of about 1/290 s. However, some time is required to trigger the flash. At the maximum standard D850 X-sync shutter speed of 1/250 s, the exposure time is 1/250 s = 4.0ms, so about 4.0ms - 2.4ms = 1.6ms are available to trigger and fire the flash, and with a 1ms flash duration, 1.6ms - 1.0ms = 0.6ms are available to trigger the flash."

A hapless-appearing and emaciated man mumbled an apology. His eyes were steely, though. His acquiescence was much like that of a kohai to a sempai. The half-hidden markings on his shrunken neck were those of the 601 Commando Company of the Argentinian Army: black shield with a white y-shape, and a superimposed white sword overlying a yellow horse's head.

"That's right!" A fierce looking woman said, her nose looking like something a hawk might wear proudly. "I have told you this, too. "Mid- to high-end Nikon DSLRs…D7000 and above… have an unusual menu-selectable feature which increases the maximum X-Sync speed to 1/320 s = 3.1ms with some electronic flashes. At 1/320 s only 3.1ms - 2.4ms = 0.7ms are available to trigger and fire the flash while achieving a uniform flash exposure, so the maximum flash duration, and therefore maximum flash output, must be, and is, reduced." It looked like her one pants leg concealed a prosthetic limb. She had once been a member of Norway's Jegertroppen, the world's first all-female Special Forces Unit. She wore earrings in the shape of a Viking ship.

"I'll take care of the bum," a bald man with a handle-bar mustache said in a Slavic accent. He didn't have any ink showing; but, he looked no less accomplished than his fellow photographers. "Remember what I told you in preparation for this shoot? Contemporary focal-plane shutter cameras with full-frame or smaller sensors typically have maximum normal X-sync speeds of 1/200 s or 1/250 s. Some cameras are limited to 1/160 s. X-sync speeds for medium format cameras when using focal-plane shutters are somewhat slower, e.g. 1/125 s because of the greater shutter travel time required for a wider, heavier, shutter that travels farther across a larger sensor."

Sousuke felt as if he were listening to a foreign language. The alarm bell in his head should be ringing loudly; but, his lizard brain had surprisingly shut if off. That one track mind had one goal now, and that was getting to class without getting into anymore trouble. Challenging people would only cause conflict. There was probably a very good explanation as to why most of the men and women had military markings. They may have started a company together, after meeting in some military cooperative mission or competition. Their speech certainly made them sound legitimate.

He slunk out from behind the shrub and headed on his way, muttering to himself again.

"You there," a voice called out. "Young lady." Sousuke kept walking until the man said "Please. Just a moment of your time?"

"Me?" Sousuke asked, turning. It was the elegant looking photographer he kept getting glimpses of. When the man nodded with an overly friendly smile, he asked "What can I do for you?"

"I need to know if you have seen a student," the man said, his teeth looking impossibly white. "I understand he is a celebrity of sorts, so you probably know what he looks like." After a pause, while he watched Kaname's face, he said "Sousuke Sagara." It sounded as if there was an echo, in the room. A number of the other camera-carrying men and women had asked passing students the same name.

Sousuke hesitated. Tensing up and about to circumvent his most primitive brain, he noticed a clipboard in the man's hand. Most of the names had been crossed off. He let out a held breath. "I know who Sousuke Sagara is," he said truthfully. "But, I haven't seen him around here today." Mostly true, too. "Come to think of it…." He rubbed Kaname's chin. "I didn't see him at school yesterday, either."

"I see," the man said. He was still staring at Kaname's face, as if something very important had slipped his mind. He shrugged and said "Thank you very much. I suppose I will see you for your picture later."

"Certainly," Sousuke said. He could have originally sat for Kaname's picture in his condition. But, certainly not now, not with his hair dyed black.

"Before you leave, I have another name for you." The man made a show of checking his list. "Kaname Chidori. As I understand it, she has been involved with the big event today. Funny that the Charity would choose the same day that we did." It truly was a coincidence.

"The mascots have all been asking the same question," Sousuke said in complete honesty. "No one seems to have found her yet. The mascots were heading over to the gym. The telethon was shooting out back of the building there."

"I see," the man said, nodding his head. "Thank you again." He walked over to another group of students, asking about Kaname and Sousuke.

Dismissed, Sousuke resumed his speed walking.

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PHOTO CREW

A few moments after Sousuke had walked away, the head photographer joined his comrades.

"There was something about that girl," Humphry Magunesiumu said. "Something I feel is mocking me." The other students had seen neither Sousuke Sagara nor Kaname Chidori.

"What was her name," the Norwegian woman asked.

"I don't know." The man had a pained look on his face. "I didn't ask." That's the problem when you track a single target too long, and lose sight of everything else. "Shit!" He sighed. "It will come to me eventually, no doubt." He ran a hand through his lustrous hair. "Sagara's absence is actually a good thing. It's too good to be true. And, it's readily explainable, seeing his unique value."

"But the girl should be here," the emaciated man said. "She is supposed to be the master of ceremonies for the charity show today. And, I was told that she gave the speech at this morning's assembly."

"Right," the moustache he man agreed. "Her name also came up in regards to some kind of incident in the hallway, one which lead to a man be carted away to the regional police center. It is possible that has something to do with our difficulty locating her."

"Good save," Humphry said. "Have our agents at that facility check into that angle. We should also check in with the cameras we have set-up outside of her apartment building. If something sent her home, she could be there or on the way there. Have our people at all of the radar facilities in the area keep a sharp look out, too. There are other places that she might go, if certain contrary people grow concerned."

"Yes, Sir!" After a number of the crew hurried to follow those leads, a number of men walked up with other possible solutions. That lead to more planning and more orders.

"She could still be here," the cleverly named Humphry Magunesiumu said. "We'll all keep vigilant, and continue with our cover task." He laughed. "I mean, we are getting paid for it, and we pride ourselves at getting all of our customer's work done." The way he said that made it sound as if this kind of mundane employment contract was not their usual job.

And, so it was not. Humphry Magunesiumu's true name was Miyamoto Bokuden. 'Magunesiumu' was of course a Japanese word for magnesium, a metal that could form an amalgam with mercury. Magnesium was also the metal that had once been used in flash photography, and also formed the filaments in flash bulbs. That metal had been first isolated by Sir Humphry Davy, in England in 1808.

"Whatever happens today," Mr. Magnesium said. "Be certain that no harm whatsoever befalls the girl. Mr. Silver has made that point very clear. I don't think anyone here wants to get on his bad side.

Everyone answered quickly in the affirmative. The silver-haired man in question certainly looked as tranquil as a floating cloud, and sounded as soft as a summer breeze. But, he was no one to cross. For certain, no one ever crossed him twice.

"What if we don't ever find her today," an ex-Nigerian Army soldier asked. "Should we set traps for her here? Spy cams? Whatever?"

"No," Mr. Magnesium said. "We have other means available. And, Sagara would no doubt find anything we leave. At the very least, our being here is valuable in intelligence gathering. If need be, Mr. Silver will come himself to collect her someday. And, he has given us orders to leave the school building unharmed. Unaltered and unharmed."

"I see, Sir." The Nigerian man headed back into the room where the photographs were being taken.

"We will remain prepared to work hard… passionate in our work… and persistent through all difficulties," Mr. Magnesium told himself.

Good words of advice for a male model and a mercenary both.

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Deception is rife within Shakespeare's plays, perhaps because deception is rife within human nature.

Interestingly, deception in Shakespeare takes many forms. For example, there are instances of accidental deception, as in

The Comedy of Errors. There are many cases of characters using deception as a form of self-preservation, as in

Twelfth Night and As You Like It. And then, of course, there are the occasions when deception is used in a more malevolent fashion, as in King Lear, Julius Caesar and Richard III.

*Deception is also the life's blood of Full Metal Panic*