The first bell chimed, sounding the end of lunch. I sank into my chair as exhaustion crashed over me like a wave. How had a simple monetary transaction gotten so out of hand? And I still didn’t have my money. We were going to “barter,” apparently. Instead of cold, hard cash, I’d be paid in Yanami’s homemade cooking.
Homemade cooking. Just for me. It still didn’t feel real. I had to be dreaming.
I was resolute in one thing: We were midway through July, and I was gonna keep my head down for the rest of it. None would perceive me the remainder of this semester. This, I manifested in my mind’s eye, and thus I was free from social interaction for the rest of the day. The technique had never failed me before.
“E-ex…excuse me. N-Nukumizu-kun?” The technique had failed me. A girl stood next to my desk and was making an extraordinarily valiant effort to speak words. “I-I’m…first-year. L-literature club!”
The girl choked on her own tongue and started to cough. I didn’t know what she wanted, but I doubted she’d find it with me.
“Who from what?”
“K-Komari!” she spat. “From the literature club! Komari Chika!” Komari clung to the hem of her long, baggy summer button-up. She stared at me through teary eyes. “I-I need to…talk to you.”
“About what? What do I have to do with your club?”
“Y-y-you’re in it!”
“Say what?”
“What?”
Silence. I searched my memory and recalled a few months back, right after the entrance ceremony. I remembered taking a tour of the lit club and writing my name down on…something. On reflection, it must’ve been a sign-up form.
“You know, maybe I am,” I said.
Komari Chika puffed a little sigh, then started mashing on her phone keyboard. When finished, she pointed the screen at me. It read, “The student council issued a warning to us about inactive members. We’re already low as is.”
Didn’t take much detective work to figure out who the inactive member was.
More typing. “Be there after school, please.”
“S-sure. I’ll be there,” I said.
It all came back to me. The lit club was all girls, except for the president. I’d felt too awkward to keep going, which was why I stopped. If the representative they’d sent to round me up was any indication of the culture there, I had a feeling I’d made the right call.
✦ ✦ ✦
I stood deep in the west annex, contemplating my life choices and regretting them immensely. All I wanted was to be home.
“Guessing this is the place.”
Against my better judgment, I marched toward the club room door. It wasn’t my favorite way to spend my afternoon, but they were low on members. Deep down, I empathized with my fellow underdogs. I couldn’t bring myself to turn away, so I took a breath and reached for the doorknob.
“Oh. It’s locked.”
Time to go home. I had tried, and that was good enough for me.
I whipped around to find a phone screen in my face. “I have the key. Move,” it read.
Komari Chika squeezed by me and unlocked the door. It would have been so much easier if she just used her words.
I followed her inside. Komari made a beeline for a chair, grabbed a book, and that was all from her. Usually, the rude types were supposed to come with soft sides. You know, to actually make them likable. This one was clearly defective.
I found a folding chair on the other side of the room to call home and get a good look at the room. A bookshelf spanned one of the walls from floor to ceiling, books crammed anywhere they’d fit. I’d neglected to take it all in during my tour a while back, but this time I took note of the colorful blue spines standing out among the other aged hardcover volumes. Interesting. They had light novels.
“Komari-san, are we allowed to—”
“Bwuh?! Huh?! What?!” She fumbled around for her phone. Now I just felt bad.
“Never mind. Read your book.”
I scanned the shelves for an escape from the stifling awkwardness (and the boredom) and picked out something by Dazai. I was familiar in that I’d read some of his more famous works. He was a handsome guy, that Dazai. Surprisingly popular with the ladies. The image of a rushing river came to mind that I did not immediately cast away.
I flipped it open to a random page, shocked to find a modern-looking illustration. What scene was it from, I wondered. Some chapter called…“A Punishment Most Sweet.” Whoever Takuya was, he apparently had a “raging sugarcane,” and it was doing weird things to Haruta’s “winking eye.”
Wait a minute, this doesn’t sound like Dazai.
Just as I was removing the dust jacket, the book flew from my hands. Komari held it tightly to her chest, staring at me like she’d seen a ghost.
“N-n-n-no boys allowed!” she sputtered.
“Why not? It’s just Dazai Osamu.”
“Not for boys!” Komari repeated. I wasn’t even remotely following.
“I see the ice is broken,” came a third voice.
A girl with long black hair in pigtails entered. She had a mature look about her that her glasses accentuated. Komari leaped behind her, leering back at me.
“Maybe not.” Glasses Lady gently patted Komari on the head and smiled at me. “You must be Nukumizu-kun. Glad to see you again.”
Her grin was contagious. I smiled back, relieved to meet someone sane for once.
“Oh, hi,” I said. “Sorry I kind of ghosted you guys.”
“I’m just happy you came back to us. Do you remember me? I’m the vice president, Tsukinoki Koto. A third-year.”
“Yeah, I do, actually.” I did not.
Tsukinoki-senpai looked over at the book in Komari’s hands and nodded to herself. “Seems someone neglected to mention that all Dazai and Mishima works are off-limits to male club members,” she explained.
“Mishima Yukio and Dazai Osamu? Both of them?” I asked.
The lenses of Tsukinoki-senpai’s glasses flashed meaningfully. I did not know the significance of this, but my instincts were telling me to run.
Hands on each of my shoulders held me in place. “Wrong, my boy,” Senpai said. “Dazai first. Then Mishima. Dazai Osamu ex Mishima Yukio. Not the other way around. There are no switches here, are we clear?” Her eyes implied there was only one answer to this question. I nodded out of fear for my life. “I’m glad we could reach an understanding. Now sit, and I’ll get us some tea.”
I’d spoken too soon. Sanity was clearly in short supply around here. I averted my gaze and stared idly at the zipper to my bag resting nearby, where no one could hurt me.