[What does it mean to give up?]

Accept his meaninglessness and die?

He doesn’t want to.

[What does it mean to dismiss others as ‘people’?]

Refuse their existence entirely?

It would only make life more troublesome.

[What does it mean to exist?]

To have a tangible effect on your surroundings?

Anyone could do that.

Then…

[What does it mean to keep fighting?]

Look for a way out of this city’s machinations?

It’s impossible.

[What does it mean to accept others as people?]

Creating a clear divide between ‘affected by storyline’ and ‘not affected’…?

That’s obvious enough already. But they’ll still go back to ‘affected by storyline’ eventually, anyway. It’s pointless to divide them when they bounce between the two. It’s an annoyance. It’s troublesome. It hurts.

[What does it mean to not exist?]

…

“…Pisses me off.”

Yuuya lies in the infirmary bed with his hands over his eyes. The beds here are soft and comforting, and the blanket is pleasantly fluffy. It feels like this place is a nap room rather than a place for sick people. Makes sense, considering the kinds of scenario flags that get raised in infirmaries.

Since he had nothing to do but cry and hurt a lot, he let his mind wander. Picking apart his reality in Nashioka is only making him more miserable, though.

Rather than things going badly, or things going well, he’s stuck somewhere in the middle. It’s just stress, eating at his existing wounds. In a TV show, he’d only be haunted about one specific subject, but in reality, everything is bothering him. That’s how stress works. In a TV show, he’d be caving under the pressure, if he’s hit the point where he’s resorting to violence and a screaming episode on the roof, but in reality, it was more like a tantrum. He’s gone back to simply aggravated after sleeping on it.

All of his misery feels, in summary, incredibly half-assed.

And yet, he can’t even resolve this much.

“…PISSES ME OFF!”

Yuuya grabs the pillow out from under his head and chucks it as hard as he can through the curtain.

Whump.

The sound comes far earlier than he expected, with far more solidness to it than it should, if it’s just hitting the curtains from the bed opposite him.

Hesitantly, Yuuya crawls to the edge of the bed and carefully pulls the curtain back.

A battle manga character.

Yuuya stares blankly ahead. There, right in front of him, is a battle manga character. They’re all soft cues, something you wouldn’t really pick up on unless you’re used to them to begin with, but for Yuuya, it’s obvious.

The guy in front of him is a total ikemen for one, a pinnacle of Japanese masculine beauty with his high cheekbones and narrow black eyes that regard Yuuya coolly. His hair is a dusky silver, filled with natural grey and white tones that make the untidy locks look like the fur of a winter wolf. The haircut is sloppy in a good-looking way, with one long ahoge at the top matching the soft trail of hair around his neck.

He’s also covered in blood, has twin threads coloured Passion Red and Violence Purple, and wearing a leather jacket over his uniform.

His uniform isn’t even regulation, even ignoring the jacket. He’s wearing black pants instead of brown ones.

Altogether, the image is: an incredibly attractive bad boy who seems to have just come out of a dangerous situation and isn’t known for following rules. Because he has a Violence Purple thread, he can’t be a love interest, but because he’s so hot, he can’t be a henchman. He doesn’t seem to care much for image — beyond the fact that wearing all black when being covered in blood is a thing that can happen to you is really practical — and yet he has no sign of an ego, so a delinquent leader is unlikely too.

So of course, it’s that; a good-looking fangirl bait loner battle manga character. Yuuya’s never seen one up close.

“You.”

Oohh. It spoke.

“You think you can roughhouse in an infirmary?”

“Is that a problem?” Yuuya asks.

“This is a place of rest. Throwing things as you like, you want to die?”

“…Sorry.”

The Battle Manga Fangirl Bait guy narrows his eyes. “If that was enough, I wouldn’t have to discipline anyone at all. Get out.”

“I’m injured though…”

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Fangirl Bait snaps. He lurches forward to grab at Yuuya, and Yuuya jumps back to the head of the bed and stands.

“Quit it! I have head trauma! I could have a concussion!”

“Go to a hospital then.”

“I suppose you’re gonna wa-walk me?”

Fangirl Bait’s brows furrow. “If you’re going to be difficult, I’ll make an example out of you.”

“Try it, you pushy piece of shit! I’m in a bad enough mood already!” Yuuya snaps.

“Have it your way.”

Fangirl Bait walks to the right, out of view. Yuuya slips off the bed and ducks under the curtains. He hears some sort of wind tension. Yuuya inches around and peeks in the direction Fangirl Bait left in.

Fangirl Bait has a rusty metal pipe, and he’s swinging it experimentally with an unnaturally cold expression.

A battle maniac.

Yuuya doesn’t really have the energy to be afraid. This guy wouldn’t be still attending the school if he broke kids’ bones for tossing pillows about. He just has to accept that this is encounter is going to end in pain. Battle maniacs, in order to remain interesting, are ruthlessly efficient and only threatening in theory, and hell, Yuuya was planning on lazing in his room like a lazy sack of garbage for the next three years anyway. Like a few bruises would change that.

If ‘snapping’ did one thing, it assured that he is waaaay too far gone to care about anything anymore.

“That supposed to scare me?” He sniffs.

“Your feelings are irrelevant.”

Fangirl Bait charges.

Seeing as it’s a heavy object and Fangirl Bait swings wide, Yuuya has more than enough time to dodge. He stumbles backwards into the wall, and ducks from an overhead strike, taking advantage of the moderation required to not instantly kill Yuuya with blunt force trauma. He scrambles for the door, but doesn’t really expect to make it. He can practically predict the jab to his spine with nothing more than narrative understanding, and falling on his face is ultimately the better option.

“Stop squirming and accept your fate.”

“Eat shit,” Yuuya groans back.

He rolls out of the way of the expected downwards strike, but Fangirl Bait drags it horizontally to clip him on the shoulder. Yuuya yelps and rolls again to clutch it. His eyes sting and the start of a sob clogs his throat.

Now he’s really pissed.

Yuuya jumps to his feet just in time to avoid the pipe aimed for the back of his neck, and grunts when the trajectory is changed again to bash him in the thigh. A tear rolls down his cheek and he’s hiccuping hysterically; the only thing keeping him from curling up into a ball and bawling again is the adrenalin.

“Now you won’t even l-le-let me leave? You need to make up your mind.”

“I’m making an example of you.”

“To who? There’s no one here, ｄｕｍｂｓｈｉｔ!”

Fangirl Bait snarls and dives at him.

Right into Yuuya’s waiting knife.

He sidesteps out of the way just in time to avoid the stab, and his eyes widen as he digests the sharpened edge slicing the side of his leather jacket. He looks from the rip, to the knife, to Yuuya.

Yuuya tilts his head and scowls rebelliously. “What? Weren’t you going to make an example of me?”

“Weapons are forbidden by school rules.”

“YOU HAVE A METAL PIPE.”

“Disobeying the rules is what allows me to punish those who need it.”

“Is that what you told the principal when you had to sell the leather jacket?”

That seems to piss him off. Fangirl Bait dives towards him, faster this time, with a shorter swing. Yuuya has the battle instincts of a dodo, so the bash to the hand that knocks away his knife is practically unavoidable. He sucks in a shrieking seethe of pain and slams his head into the wall behind him to deal with it. This fight is probably going to end in Yuuya going into shock well before Fangirl Bait beats him adequately.

“Then—”

Fangirl Bait doesn’t seem to want Yuuya have time to deal with it, but that’s what adrenalin is for.

The pipe is deflected with another knife, serrated for all his friction needs. He slides it on impact so it skates down the rusted metal and cuts a line across Fangirl Bait’s wrist. Yuuya clenches his teeth through the throb in his other hand’s fingers and whips out a flick blade aimed at Fangirl Bait’s shoulder, since there’s no way he could grip anything with it. Fangirl Bait sidesteps it and swings at Yuuya’s back. Yuuya falls on his face again. Whatever works.

Fangirl Bait kicks him in the ribs.

Or not.

Yuuya coughs and grinds his forehead into the floor. His breathing is coming in wet and shaky, and tears are trickling down his face. How the hell do battle manga characters do it? He just got kicked around a bit and the pain is already unbearable.

“…Interesting.”

Yuuya can hear the smirk in his voice. He feels a new, fresh wave of rage.

“Do- Don’t say stuff like that…I’ll c-cry, you know…?”

“You’re already crying.”

Yuuya gets back up with one shaky arm. The kick to his ribs is making it really hard to breathe, which is bad, because his breath is coming in short. He glares up through his fringe at Fangirl Bait. He’s smirking, alright, and the interest is lighting up his pitch black, evil little eyes.

“…Well…Y-You’re not wrong. I guess I would be interesting t-to someone like…like you.” Yuuya swallows. “I bet you spend a lot of time at the underground b-b-ba-b-battle tournaments, right? Haha…hic…”

Fangirl Bait narrows his eyes. Loner badasses are known for not having a very colourful emotional spectrum, so Yuuya just ignores it. It could mean anything.

“Really…I already know I stand out. Even if I don’t wa-want to. Because I was raised by the kind of people who address ‘good self-defense’ with ‘get into a knife-fight’. My brother, y’know…He doesn’t know how to use a knife at all, but still…”

Yuuya throws the flick blade. Fangirl Bait knocks it out of the air. Yuuya can’t think of a good way to capitalize on that, so he just charges with the serrated knife. That one is knocked out of his hand too, only to be replaced with a second flick blade that’s drawn out in just the right place to (accidentally) stab Fangirl Bait in the arm. Even as Fangirl Bait moves to discard that one too,

Yuuya brings out a third, and that one is barely knocked away by a vicious elbow.

Yuuya isn’t fast enough or perceptive enough to react to the pipe changing trajectory again, and he’s helpless as it bounces from the second flick blade to the other side of his ribcage.

Yuuya screams through his teeth and finds it suddenly impossible to breath. He goes flying to the floor and skids a few feet.

“How many knives do you have on you?” Fangirl Bait asks with detached interest.

Yuuya forces his lungs to take in air and almost answers, but it just comes out as a pained wail and a few shuddering sobs. He lets out a rallying roar of angry, crying fury, and forces himself to his feet again.

“Half my usual!” Yuuya practically screams, like he can just yell the pain away. “The rest! In my uniform!”

“Give up.”

“Ssshhut u-u-up…SHUT UP! Let me! Monologue! Asshole! Ｆｕｃｋｉｎｇ ｄｉｅ!”

“Monologue…?”

“The battle tournaments!” Yuuya squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t remember where he was going with the monologuing. His head is swimming. Battle tournaments. Battle tournaments. He hasn’t monologued since his first year of middle school.

Oh! Oh yeah!

“My brother…Ha…Haaa…Haru-nii-chan, you know…Even if he doesn’t know…how to use a knife…He was still a two-time champion! So he taught me useless shit! Like this!”

“Doesn’t seem useless to me—”

“What kind of JACKASS gets in a situation where he need-ed-eh…needs to pull out a bunch of knives! What possible situation could require that! He said I should because I can’t fight! And I’d get disarmed again and again! But he should have taught me to fight to begin with! Why would you teach your ki-kid brother a weird skill like this…with some stupid excuse like ‘it looks cool’! What a ｆｕｃｋｉｎｇ　ａｓｓｈｏｌｅ! Piece of shit brother! Ｇｏｄ！ Ｄａｍｍｉｔ！”

Fangirl Bait tilts his head. “Sounds like someone I’d like to face in battle…”

“Shut up! You shit chuunibyou patient! You stay…auhh…” Yuuya crumples under the blinding throb of his ribs and shoulder, and screams at the top of his lungs until it’s at least mildly tolerable again. Screaming really hard does wonders for pain. “You stay away from my brother!”

“Hmph. I’ve been craving a good fight…”

“Don’t say something even more Chuuni after I call you a chuunibyou patient, you stupid fuck! Do you want me t-to congratulate you? Nice, nice, you Chuuni g-g-ga-g-g-garbage!”

Fangirl Bait has lost interest in banter, though, and charges again.

Yuuya is barely on his feet, and his hands fumble under his waist. The knife he was trying to unclip tumbles out of his pant leg and clatters to the floor, cutting his ankle in the process, and he slips and falls reacting to both that and the pipe aimed at his skull, which ends up colliding with the nurse’s desk. He gives up and chucks a container of cotton balls at Fangirl Bait. It’s easily batted away. He chucks a container of tongue depressors too, to similar effect.

“Will you cut it out! Just let me leave!”

“Do you think I could release prey that struggles so enticingly?” Fangirl Bait drawls.

“Ｈｏｏｏｏｌｙ ｓｈｉｔ.” Yuuya’s blush kickstarts, second-hand embarrassment rising where debilitating phobia had failed. He lets out a delirious giggle.

The pipe swings again. Yuuya falls into the curtain of the nearest bed, and the chair cracks under the strike. He collides with the bed, and does a somersault right over it. He takes the moment of respite away from Fangirl Bait’s eyes to actually unclip the next knife properly, this time. He only has two left after this. Maybe he can choke that trashy character with the stretchy wire wound around his leg.

Who knew his brother’s insistent dabbling in useless battle storylines would actually have some practical result. Amazing. Now Yuuya’s not just going to get his ass kicked, he’s going to die!

“Found you.”

Yuuya snorts up his snot and glares down the silver-haired Chuuni menace.

“Yeah yeah…I-I see ya too.”

Takumi thinks the whole Reikawa Yuuya situation is going really great.

He’s used to reclusive hikikomori types, and he’s used to violent delinquent types, so it’s weird seeing one showing off both traits. Takumi really cannot even begin to imagine what caused this kind of result. Reikawa-kun isn’t just shy and lonely, he seems to hate everything around him with a really unnecessary fervor.

Thankfully, Azuna-chan didn’t seem particularly ruffled by a frisky first-year cracking open a wall with her skull, so it shouldn’t be too hard to re-integrate him!

…Probably.

“I’m going to go check on Reikawa-kun!” Takumi calls to Ikegami-kun, who is practising dribbling the ball with hilarious intensity.

“Oh! Uhm…” Ikegami-kun glances over his shoulder at him and catches the ball in both palms. “Okay! Will you be coming back?”

“Hmmm…I don’t know, I might need to walk him home. He’s pretty vulnerable, but prickly enough that he might attack someone on the way.”

“…Bring him to the school counselor already…” Ikegami-kun mutters.

Takumi grins. “Hm? What was that?”

“N-Nothing! Good luck!”

Takumi waves and takes off in the direction of the infirmary.

He shooouuuld let an adult handle it. He’s not really an expert at teenagers, seeing as he still is one, and thus has a lot of bias. But Reikawa-kun is really interesting, and Takumi wants to pick him to pieces. He’s like a small, cute, fuzzy little animal that tears throats out when backed into a corner. If it’s an abuse case, of course he’s going to address it, but otherwise, it’s almost as wonderful as trying to figure out why Inoue is the way he i—

“UUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

“…What the.”

The scream echoing through the halls sounds almost animalistic, high and androgynous yet ribbed with the deepness of a roar, and it’s coming in the direction of…the infirmary?

Oh. Uh-oh.

Takumi breaks into a sprint, and makes it to the right hallway just in time to see Inoue in the flesh, falling backwards out of the doorway trying to deflect a knife being chucked at him.

“Inoue! What are you doing?!” Takumi yells.

“He’s—” Inoue starts, but then an underweight teenager comes flying out of the door and takes a huge bite out of Inoue’s neck.

Deja vu. It’s deja vu, huh.

Inoue grabs the boy by the scruff of the neck and chucks him at Takumi. It looks like he didn’t break skin, at least. Reikawa-kun skids to a stop at Takumi’s feet, convulses once, and curls up into a ball like a dying spider, clutching his torso and his shoulder. He seems to make an effort to sit up with just his elbows, but gives up and collapses with a wail that shakes Takumi’s heart, pulling his knees up and sobbing into the floor instead. His hands and arms are covered in fresh bruises, some bleeding from wide scrapes.

Takumi looks up with a pinpoint fury just as Inoue starts forward again, clearly intending to finish the job.

“You better not take another step.”

“He’s about to become an example—”

“Inoue.”

Takumi grabs the pipe and glares him down.

“You keep on like that, don’t expect to remain in the Committee, let alone the school.”

“He has knives,” Inoue spits irritably.

Takumi blinks. He turns to look at Reikawa-kun, who has a hand stuffed down his pants. He blinks his teary eyes innocently and slowly draws his hand away from his waistband.

Takumi drops the pipe, marches over to the smaller teen, and yanks up his trouser leg. There’s some sort of elastic string wound around it, and the upper thigh has a series of clips. One of them still has a knife stuck to it.

“…Why.”

“Self-defense,” Reikawa-kun mutters sulkily into the floor.

Takumi snaps the string against his leg, and says it again.

“Why.”

“Kind of like…’you’re going to get disa-diss-disar-di…” Yuuya coughs, wheezes a few times, and chokes out a few more sobs. He’s heartbreaking to listen to, in this state. Or he would be, if he wasn’t glaring hatefully at Inoue like he was thinking of ripping off an ear with his teeth. “I’m going to lose any knife I use, so I might as well have a bunch of the-them. I can’t. I can’t fight. But I can pull them out fast. It’s sort of like I can.”

That’s not even remotely the weirdest thing Takumi has ever seen from a student, but it still strikes him as distinctly illogical.

“Why don’t you just learn more self defe—”

“Because it looks c-c-cool! – hic – Because it looks cool! Because my brother is a stu…he’s so stupid, he’d teach his brother something that looks cool in-instead of practical! And I never would ha-have had to show off such a s-stupid skill if he hadn’t…if he hadn’t attacked me! I know it’s stupid, okay!”

“Sorry, sorry. Relax.”

Takumi ruffles his hair and stands up. He glances over his shoulder at Inoue, who finally seems to have somehow deduced that he’s in trouble.

“While he’ll be sent home for carrying weapons…he pulled a weapon because you attacked him first? Am I wrong? Yuito.”

Inoue’s lips thin at the sound of his name.

“Should I ask the chairman what’s to be done with you? I wonder.”

“He was—”

“He was mad I threw a pillow at him,” Reikawa-kun grumbles.

Takumi takes a steeling breath.

“…Yuito.”

Inoue’s mouth shuts with a click. He works his jaw and stuffs the pipe in a belt loop.

“Fine. Let’s talk to her. If you’re so insistent.”

“This’ll be the fourth time in two weeks…Inoue, you’re really…”

“You don’t know if I’ll be suspended.”

“There is literally no way you won’t be. Be glad you’re still immune to expulsion. I’m sure if the rest of the teachers had their way, you’d be ‘suspended’ for the rest of the school year.”

Inoue folds his arms and glares at the floor like a scolded child.

Takumi makes sure to keep his palm on Inoue’s back as he walks him towards the School Delegate Committee’s room, just in case he bolts. He looks behind him, at Reikawa-kun, who has, beyond all expectations, managed to sit up on his own.

Takumi gives him an apologetic look. “Sorry, I’ll be back to—”

“Forget it. I’ll go home by myself,” Reikawa-kun hiccups.

Takumi clicks his tongue, but he can’t leave Inoue alone before the chairman gives her verdict, so he just sighs and continues to push his clubmate down the hall. As he goes, he hears the barest trace of a voice.

“…Wanna go home.”

“Why do you use swords all the time?”

Haruhiko paused in mid-swing. The blades he used were rectangles and didn’t have a guard before the handle, like razors. Yuuya was always sure one of those days his brother’s grip would slip and he’d cut his hand open.

It never happened.

That Yuuya knows of.

“Ah, ah. I dunno. I like them. I guess.”

“Why?”

Haruhiko got out of posture and slid his sword back into its sheath. “Well, it’s pretty cool and flashy, riiiight~”

“Lame.”

“Ugh—!” Haruhiko leaned over, clutching his chest like he’d been struck.

“What do you need to be flashy for. Everyone at school says flashy people are lame.”

“Uwaaaaa, are you entering the rebellious age, Yuu-chan?! Don’t bully your brother!”

Yuuya squinted suspiciously at him.

Haruhiko laughed. “Well, it’s true I have an ulterior motive.”

“Like?”

“Hmm…Well, with this, I became the battle tournament champion! Though I won’t be trying that again anytime soon.”

“Why not?”

Haruhiko wrapped an arm around Yuuya’s waist and pulled him down to the ground so they could sit next to each other on the grass. Yuuya let him.

“Well, you see, everyone was suuuuper weak, even though I wasn’t even using real blades — they’re illegal in matches — and I thought I was soooo cool. But then! It turns out it was just a plot setup! They were all mob characters making way for the guy that was supposed to be some uppity protagonist’s big bad antagonist! And I stole the seat! So I had to go over there and get ready to defend my title against a protagonist and an antagonist, as well as a bunch of rival characters all vying for the top…I ended up forfeiting and spouting some nonsense about ‘honour’ and stuff and going home to cry in the bathroom for three hours straight. Only the sweet embrace of Hanako’s soft bosom healed me. I was totally scarred. It was a traumatic experience.”

“Lame.”

“It’s fine. I’m okay with being lame. Rather than being cool, your brother wants to live, y’know.”

Haruhiko flopped onto his back with his hands folded behind his head.

Yuuya copied him.

“You didn’t answer me.”

“Ehh, you’re so sharp, Yuu-chan. I bet you’re a child genius. Super cool. I want to show you off to the neighbours.”

“Haru-nii-saaaaaaaaa—”

“I got it, I got it.”

Haruhiko reached over and rubbed Yuuya’s shaved head. Yuuya squirmed into his palm like a pleased cat.

“…It’s just that it looks cool though.”

“But whyyyyyy—”

“Because. When you see someone carrying swords, it draws the eye, right?”

A sad expression.

“People can’t help but look at you, right?”

A watery voice.

“A flashy guy using flashy swords, not to mention a competent one, a person like that would surely be outstanding. An oddity, right? I’d be super odd.”

Hard, calloused hands with soft movements.

Haruhiko turned onto his side and looked at Yuuya with a desperate expression. His other hand came up to grip Yuuya’s arm as his hand slid down to cradle Yuuya’s face.

“Hey, Yuuya…”

A really stupid brother. A really happy-go-lucky, overly-doting, annoying brother. That’s all Yuuya knew him as.

It was weird, seeing him look like he was about to cry.

“I’m going to end up like mom, at this rate, y’know? So let me be a little flashy.”

Nowadays, Yuuya thinks it’s a little like looking in a mirror.