“Otogiriii…,” muttered a teacher in black-rimmed glasses standing beside the school gate.
Tobi Otogiri, however, gave him only a brief glance before passing by.
“Otogiriii…,” the teacher said once more, this time practically growling.
“That teacher never gives up, huh?” Tobi’s backpack said with a scornful chuckle.
“It’s his job,” Tobi whispered in reply.
Ever since Tobi enrolled at his current school, the bespectacled teacher had tried again and again to discipline his behavior. He wasn’t Tobi’s homeroom teacher, nor did he teach any of his classes. Tobi didn’t even know his name.
“First he gets on your case about your bag not being school-approved, then he throws a fit about your shoes being too flashy, then he starts whining about your bangs being too long… Is this what school’s about? Turning people into mass-produced clones that all fit perfectly into the same little box?”
Tobi ignored Baku’s grumbling and made his way into the school building, stopping at the shoe cubbies to change into his indoor footwear.
“Hey, Tobi, remember what happened, uhhh…must’ve been over a year ago now, I think. That teacher just wouldn’t stop giving you crap about your hair every single morning, so you—”
“Nope. Must’ve forgot.”
Tobi climbed up the stairs to the second-year wing and stepped into the room for Class 2-3. His spot was by the window—the third one from the front. He dropped Baku onto his desk, then took a seat and flopped over onto the bag, face-first.
“Taking a nap right after you get to school, eh? Guess not talking to anyone leaves you with a lotta free time! You oughtta try making a friend or two one of these days.”
“Shut up already, Baku…”
“Oooh, better watch out, Tobi! People’re gonna think you’re talking to yourself! They’ll have you pegged as a real freak in no time!”
Tobi clicked his tongue, then lowered his voice as far as it would go. “I wasn’t talking loudly enough for them to hear me in the first place,” he whispered.
“On second thought, why not? Let ’em hear! Maybe that’ll give someone an excuse to try talking to you.”
“…That’s the last thing I want.”
“Suuure. I see how it is. You think being a friendless lone wolf makes you look like a real badass, don’t you?”
“…No, I don’t.”
“Oh, c’mon, you totally do. Y’know what that means, right, Tobi? That’s a sure sign you’re a budding narcissist, right there. Better try being a little less self-absorbed before it’s too late!”
“…Keep running your mouth, why don’t you?”
“Oh? Well, if you insist! Gets pretty boring sitting around all quiet-like!”
“……”
“Just so you know, if you’re thinking you can clam up and I’ll get bored and shut my mouth, you couldn’t be more wrong,” Baku said with a mocking cackle. “I ain’t shutting up till the day you die, Tobi! Don’t go forgetting—you and I share a destiny. We’re linked together, body and soul!”
No, I haven’t forgotten, Tobi muttered internally. How could I?
“…Right. But what if I burned you to ashes, or something?” Tobi whispered. “Every once in a while, I start wondering…”
“Hey. You know I heard that, right?”
“…Heard what? Your ears must be playing tricks on you.”
“You see any ears on me, pal?”
“…Dunno.”
“Actually, wait. How do I hear?”
“…Don’t ask me.”
“God, you’re cold! Cold as ice, Tobi! Your heart’s subzero! I’m freezin’ solid over here!”
If only it were that easy, Tobi thought, praying that Baku’s supposed chill would at least shut him up for a moment. He didn’t say it out loud, though. That would just add fuel to the fire. The only way to deal with Baku’s incessant banter was to ignore it. Tobi knew that very well, but he couldn’t keep himself from reacting all the same. Guess I need more practice.
“…But how would I even practice that?” Tobi muttered, shutting down his own inner voice.
Tobi was a fast eater. He could power through his school lunch in seconds flat…well, figuratively anyway. “Seconds” might be an exaggeration, but watching him eat really did give the impression he was somehow teleporting everything except his bread roll directly into his stomach. Then he’d clean up his tray just as quickly, departing from the classroom holding his roll—or, on days when the school served rice or a noodle dish instead, leaving empty-handed.
At first, his homeroom teacher had tried to scold him. “Wh-whoa there, slow down, Otogiri.” But Tobi flagrantly disregarded these attempts, and eventually, his teacher simply gave up.
Today was a bread day, and not just any bread: The school had served a very rich type of roll that had butter worked into its dough. It was called, appropriately, a butter roll.
Tobi sped down the hallway with Baku slung across his back.
“A butter roll, eh? Nice,” Baku commented. “You like those, don’t you, Tobi?”
“Huh?” Tobi grunted. “Not really, no.”
“Liar. Look at you! You’re practically skipping!”
“…I don’t hate them, either. I’m not that picky.”
The hallway was deserted. All the other middle schoolers were still in their classrooms, eating their meals like the well-mannered children they were. Even so, Tobi kept his voice down, just in case anyone happened to be listening.
“C’monnn, Tobi, don’t give me that! I know you’ve always been more of a bread guy than a rice guy!”
“I’m a whatever guy.”
“And you like fish more than meat, right?”
“I seriously don’t care…”
“Okay, then which is better: sweets with soybean powder or sweets with red bean paste?”
“Bean paste.”
“Easy answer, huh? Didn’t take you a second!”
“…I just don’t like powdery foods.”
“I totally get that…not! How the hell would I know? I’m a goddamn backpack! I’ve never eaten either of ’em!”
“Not my problem…”
“It kinda is, though. Aren’t we good pals? Actually… Are we good pals?”
“That’s even less my problem…”
“Guess when all’s said and done, we’re just stuck with each other! Yup, yup!”
“Sure. Let’s go with that.”
“C’mon, ‘stuck’ with me? Really? You couldn’t think of a nicer way to say it?”
“You’re the one who said it in the first place, Baku.”
“Yeah, but you were supposed to disagree! Tell me I’ve got it wrong! You’re breakin’ my heart, pal!”
“Am I, really…?”
“Li’l bit. Maybe.”
Tobi stepped out into the courtyard. It was more or less what you’d expect from a school: a lawn, some benches, and a few flower beds. As lunch wore on, a crowd of students would filter outside to make the most of the bright, sunny weather. For now, though, the whole place was empty. Tobi was the only one around.
“You’re doing it again? Seriously?” Baku said with an exasperated sigh.
Tobi stepped over to a pipe that ran up the school’s wall and grabbed on to it with his right hand. Specifically, he grabbed on to the metal fitting that secured the pipe to the wall, hooking his middle and ring fingers through it. He pulled himself upward, using the pipe, the grooves in the wall, and the other fittings as hand- and footholds, swiftly scaling his way to the roof.
“For cryin’ out loud. Do you have a big ol’ balloon in that head of yours instead of a brain? Is that why you’re always hanging around high places…?”
Tobi didn’t pay any mind to Baku’s teasing. He climbed right up the building, reaching the rooftop in the blink of an eye. Decent time today, he thought. He’d gotten up in one go, without any hesitation. Maybe he’d just picked a good route.
There was, technically speaking, a much easier path to the roof: A staircase inside the school led to a door opening right onto it. Safety and security regulations, however, meant that door was kept locked at all times. If you didn’t have the rooftop key, then climbing was the only way to get up or down from it. Not that Tobi knew anyone else who would go that far. He was the only one.
The school’s rooftop was a flat, unfinished concrete surface with a rather short wall set up around its perimeter—a parapet, to use the technical term. Tobi set Baku on the ground, took a seat on the parapet, then opened up the plastic bag containing his butter roll. He closed his eyes and took a bite.
“So? Tasty?” asked Baku.
“…Eh. It’s fine.”
“Just say it’s good, for cryin’ out loud! Why do you always have to be such a sullen little brat?”
“Oh, wow, it’s so good. Delicious. Amazing. Scrumptious. Wow.”
“Shoulda stopped after the first one. You’re such a liar…”
“I told you it was fine, didn’t I?”
“Okay, so which do you like better: normal rolls or butter rolls?”
“Butter rolls.”
“See?”
“…See what?”
“As if you don’t know.”
Tobi polished off his butter roll in three big bites, then gazed up at the wisps of cloud drifting through the pale blue sky. That got boring in a hurry, so he looked down at the school instead. Tobi’s middle school was a three-story, U-shaped building, with the courtyard located in between its long, parallel sections. The wing below Tobi held the special-use classrooms, while the other wing held the regular ones. The latter’s first floor housed the third-year students’ rooms, with the second-years on the second floor and the first-years on the third.