There was once a time when he couldn’t tolerate anyone talking shit about the way he liked to present himself. Back in the days when he was first learning to play pool, he would have told this guy to step outside for a fight. But the longer he lived and the more experience he gained, the less effort he put into changing the minds of those who would casually insult a random stranger who wasn’t bothering anyone—in other words, assholes.
“Happens all the time. Don’t worry about it.”
A little sarcasm was all it took to paint over another person’s shame. Hard to say if it worked this time, because when the man hurried out of the room, Ai didn’t afford him a single glance. Without a trace of performative boredom or defensiveness, he simply looked back at his smartphone.
Anyone who saw the maturity with which he navigated these conflicts would surely never suspect he was the type to get easily agitated. If he had to guess, not even Akane would have gotten that impression. But the majority of those who were fairly close to him knew that he could flip like a switch at the slightest comment, and some had even seen his blood boil in person.
In this case, it was targeted at him, so he could ignore it. End of story. But when he found out a younger relative was getting bullied, or when he heard hate speech targeted at a friend, or when he saw his favorite pop idol getting unfairly criticized, Ai openly spoke out the words that sprouted in his heart.
I want to kill them. I want to beat them until I see blood.
Naturally, he never acted on these feelings. He wouldn’t be here smoking a cigarette, otherwise. Society had rules. But more than that, he knew no one wanted him to do those things. He was surrounded by friends and family who told him they’d be sad if anything were to happen to him. As a result, he sometimes blazed with rage until he was unable to sleep at night—such was the strength of the grudge he held against anyone who might hurt them.
He often wondered if he would ever resolve this catch-22 one day, only to give up on the idea a few minutes later. He was bound to get angry at some point or another, so why stress over it? He had more or less accepted that he would always get upset on behalf of the people he cared about, and as long as other people walked this earth, there was little he could do to avoid it.
A friend once told him she envied his ability to live his life true to his emotions. He hadn’t talked to her in years at this point, but whenever he got angry, she used to smile and say, “I wish I could be like you and punch anyone who hurts me or my loved ones.”
He wondered how she was doing now. Most likely she still hadn’t punched anyone. Her voice echoed in the smoke as he crushed his cigarette in the ashtray.
Judging from the way he’d left the room, that other guy probably wouldn’t hassle Ai again. Maybe he’d gone to a different floor entirely. Or if he’d brought friends with him, maybe they were consoling him with goofy antics. In any case, it was none of Ai’s business. That being said, he didn’t want to let his personal drama make anyone else uncomfortable, so if Akane seemed upset, they would leave. As someone who strived as much as possible to focus only on the here and now, he hadn’t thought any farther ahead as he exited the smoking area.
He never imagined that, upon returning to the billiards room, his ears would find Akane faster than his eyes.
“Please just stop!”
It wasn’t the kind of shout that could slice through empty air, which was precisely why it got his attention. If it was a whimper drained of all personality, he would have written it off as the kind of fight that could happen anywhere. But sometimes, in this district, it was an indoor voice that was more likely to be overheard.
“Hm?”
When he looked over, he saw that Akane was standing not at their pool table, not at the vending machine, not by the couches, but at a table in the corner of the room, in front of a group of four young men. Among them was the guy who had hit on Ai. Based on this scene, plus Akane’s statement, plus all of his accumulated life experience, Ai could hazard a guess at the situation.
No offense meant to Akane, but he couldn’t help but chuckle. In order to relay the thought that had tickled him, he walked over to the group—partly because he felt it was his responsibility to settle the conflict, but more so out of the desire to tell a friend something funny.
“Hey, hey, hey.”
It came out sounding more exasperated than intended, but nonetheless, the entire group turned in his direction. The fellow smoker was the first to notice, and he looked like he was biting back a scoff. The other three guys all looked innocently surprised.
For the briefest of moments, Akane looked relieved to see him, but she quickly seemed to hide it.
Their reactions were all exactly as Ai had imagined, and he let out another laugh as his lips curled in a half-smirk. “Bit cliché, don’t you think?”
He’d meant to convey his opinion exactly as he’d felt it, but it seemed to fall flat, because none of the five reacted. He didn’t care if the guys understood it, but he wanted his companion, who was being subjected to said cliché, to see the comedy of it from his perspective.
“Let me guess: you had one guy distract the babysitter while the rest of you went to harass the pretty girl, right? Well, don’t think for a second that your half-assed plan was gonna work. This happens a lot, too—guys going after someone they see as meek, only to get their asses handed to them. I see it all the time. Makes me laugh.”
As his smile spread wider, he turned it to Akane. But for some reason, she didn’t smile back. Then he realized she might be afraid that his sarcasm would provoke a fight in which he was sorely outnumbered.
“Now, when the ‘babysitter’ turns out to be a guy—that part’s not so cliché,” he added lightheartedly.
“That’s not it,” Akane pushed back. Then she pursed her lips and glared at the men in front of her, as if no further explanation was needed.
Confused, Ai followed suit and looked at the group. If he had misread the situation, then perhaps the looks on their faces would give him the answer. Best he could tell, they seemed like part-time coworkers from a bar, or maybe a group of friends who had met in college. Then the smoker guy’s scoff finally spilled out.