The Turnabout Drunkards
They were sitting in their usual seats in the student council room, when...
“All right, everyone. Regarding the cultural outing coming up in a few days... ahem,” Hayashimizu Atsunobu began to say, before his words were cut off with a cough.
Hayashimizu was a tall, pale young man who wore wire-rimmed glasses that gave him an intellectual appearance. He was standing as upright as ever, but somehow, he seemed vaguely despondent—or more precisely, perhaps, a little unfocused. His brow was furrowed as he fell silent, looking almost as if he couldn’t really see the other student council representatives sitting around the large table with him.
“Senpai?” Chidori Kaname prompted.
He snapped back to reality and shook his head slightly. “Oh... excuse me. I’m fine. Now, let us discuss the upcoming cultural outing— ah, ahem!” He coughed again, then placed his hands on the table and hung his head heavily.
“Mr. President?” Sagara Sousuke asked.
Hayashimizu simply waved at him dismissively. “Oh... no need to worry. Merely a minor cold.”
“That’s a surprise. I never knew you could catch cold, Senpai,” Kaname said.
Hayashimizu pressed his fingertips to his temples, “Is that a reference to the old superstition that fools do not catch cold?” he asked groggily.
“Of course not. Though they do say that there’s a fine line between stupidity and genius...”
“I am as human as anyone else,” Hayashimizu told her. “I eat, I sleep, and roughly once a year, I catch a cold.”
“Really?” Kaname mused skeptically.
“Now, let us discuss tomorrow’s cultural outing,” he said, regaining his composure. “This year, the whole school will be going to watch the Gekidan Uki troupe’s musical, Love, Youth and the A-Team — The Hellish Battle of Khe Sanh. The hall is sold out. After the performance is finished, we would like to present flowers to the actors and the director. I expect our membership to handle that. Any objections?”
No objections were made.
“Excellent. Then, afterwards, we will hold a short Q&A. We will therefore need to choose a student to act as host...”
Feeling Hayashimizu’s eyes on her, Kaname stiffened up. “No way.”
“Rest easy; I will handle hosting duties,” he said reassuringly. “The troupe’s director, Harakasu Takeshi, is an extremely unforgiving person who likely won’t tolerate foolish questions and verbal slips, even from students. There are rumors that, at a similar event some time ago, he sucker punched a middle schooler who asked an untoward question right there on stage.”
“Aha...”
“And not just that. He then executed a piledriver on the student, assaulted them with a smuggled-in bottle opener, knocked out all the others who tried to stop him, then shouted, ‘I pity the fool!’ into the microphone.”
“And he’s... a director?” Kaname asked.
“And so, Chidori-kun, I’ve decided it’s a bit too much to put on your shoulders,” said Hayashimizu, completely ignoring her question. “Therefore, I’ll handle hosting duties.”
“Happy to let you... but are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“If the director’s already kind of a heel, your backhanded way of phrasing things might set him off...” Kaname pointed out.
“I won’t be backhanded. I’ll play the role of an ordinary high school student and smother him with insincere flattery.”
“That’s kind of what I meant...”
Ignoring her response once more, Hayashimizu paged through the documents in his hands. “I hope to meet up early on the day of the performance to buy the flowers. Thirty minutes beforehand should do. The venue will be Chofu Burning Hall, so— ahem. Ahem!” he trailed off in coughs again.
The council’s secretary, Mikihara Ren, was also beginning to look worried about this. “Senpai,” she said, “you appear to be in distress...”
“This mild illness will not distract me from my duties— ahem!” Hayashimizu suddenly went limp and collapsed on the table.
“Senpai?!” Ren ran up to him to try to hold him up. “Please be careful, Senpai! The documents will get soggy if you drool on them.”
Without responding verbally, Hayashimizu merely pushed aside the documents beneath him. “At any rate... two days from now,” he wheezed. “Do not be late. That is all.”
The next day, after class, Sousuke heard from a PA announcer acquaintance that Hayashimizu was staying home from school that day.
“He apparently has a cold,” the announcer said. “I’m not sure if he’ll be in shape for the cultural outing tomorrow.”
“I see...”
“You might want to start thinking up a Plan B.”
“Thank you for the advice.” He and the student parted ways, and Sousuke started walking down the hall to the student council room.
“Sousuke. Have you seen Hayashimizu-senpai today?” Kaname asked as she caught up to him from behind.
“No. It appears he’ll be absent today.”
“The cold?”
“Yes. Which leaves the question of what to do for tomorrow’s cultural outing,” Sousuke reminded her. “He was supposed to host the Q&A after the... ‘musical,’ as he called it.”
“Ah...” Kaname put a hand to her mouth.
Sousuke then continued, his voice grave. “In the president’s absence, his duties should be taken on by the vice president—in other words, you. I believe you to be a valiant woman, but I have my doubts that you can handle the director in question. It is possible that the president had some special measures in place, after all. But you, alone, might end up subjected to brutal humiliations in front of the entire student body. It would cause irreversible damage, both physically and psychologically. In fact, the trauma might be so great that you will come to hate even the concept of the musical—in time, you might find yourself committing acts of terrorism against innocent theaters and directors. The authorities will be forced to act. They will hunt down, arrest, and even shoot others in your organization. It is difficult for individuals to fight the power of a state. As the walls close in around you, you’ll be forced into a last resort—I see you charging a stage, a bomb strapped to your chest. Over 500 casualties, including innocent women and children. Those seeking revenge lead to new terrorism against the theater world. And then—”
Pow! Kaname dealt a hard kick to Sousuke’s butt.
Sousuke caught his balance and turned back to her. “What are you doing?”
“Lay off the weird and overly elaborate delusions already!” she told him.
“Hmm...” Sousuke rubbed at his sore rear end.
Kaname returned to reality and cradled her head in frustration. “Ahh... it really is trouble, though.”
“Is it?”
“Even if it doesn’t turn out that bad, hearing old artist types going on and on about stuff is exhausting,” Kaname complained. “And I don’t want to be embarrassed in front of everyone.”
“Don’t worry. I will protect you. If necessary, I’ll snipe the director in his chair.”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Then what if I stand on stage with a machine gun to his head?” Sousuke suggested next. “The silent pressure of the muzzle will surely force him to provide smooth and clear answers to your questions.”
“Sounds less like a Q&A and more like an interrogation.”
Sousuke sighed with a scowl. “You’re shooting down all of my suggestions.”
“Because they’re all bad! And stop scowling like that; it’s kind of annoying...” A vein throbbed on Kaname’s forehead as she glared at him.
Sousuke let her hostility roll off his back. “Still, the matter of tomorrow’s hosting duties remains unresolved. What should we do?”
“Do? Good question... Let me make a call first.” As they walked, Kaname pulled out her PHS and called Hayashimizu’s phone.
“Anything?” Sousuke prodded her.
“He’s not picking up. What about you?”
Sousuke made the call on his own cell. “Nothing. He may have turned his phone off.”
“That really is trouble. I’m getting seriously worried,” Kaname admitted.
While they were talking, they arrived at the student council room. The treasurer, Okada Hayato, and equipment manager, Sasaki Hiromi, were hanging around inside.
“Hey. Anyone know what happened to Hayashimizu-senpai?”
“Nope, no idea,” said Hayato.
“Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen him today,” said Hiromi.
“Anyone else? O-Ren-san?” Kaname asked.
“She went home. Said she had urgent business to take care of,” Hayato responded.
“Hmm...”
“Why don’t we check in on him, then?” Sousuke proposed.
“Check in on him?”
“Yes. If he won’t pick up his phone, we should go see him in person. It would be the most efficient way to come up with countermeasures for tomorrow.”
“Good idea... and we can buy some health drinks on the way,” she decided. “If that helps him get better, he might still make it to the cultural outing.”
“Very efficient.”
“It’s a plan, then. Anyone know where he lives? It’s near Kichijoji, right?” asked Kaname, while busily rooting around in the desk drawer.
The mention of visiting Hayashimizu’s house had led Hayato and Hiromi to ask if they could come along. Okada Hayato was a darker-skinned student with dreadlocks and an overall “street” look to him, while Sasaki Hiromi was a pale, pretty boy type with silky hair. Both were on the shorter side.
The reason they wanted to tag along was out of sheer curiosity—none of them had ever been to Hayashimizu’s house before. One time they’d been out in Kichijoji with him and had asked Hayashimizu if it was all right to stop by his house. Hayashimizu had merely responded, “I can’t recommend it,” with an uncomfortable expression. He’d gone on to add, “I’m afraid I can’t elaborate, but it wouldn’t be to anyone’s benefit to go. I think it would lead to nothing but regrets.” And that had been that.
Obviously, hearing him talk that way just made everyone even more curious, and most members of the student council were constantly thinking up potential reasons to drop in on the president unannounced. Checking in on him while he was sick was the perfect excuse, and they weren’t about to let it slip by.
They got down off the bus halfway between JR Kichijoji Station and Nishi-Ogikubo Station, at a bus stop along Itsukaichi-kaido Avenue. The address on the mailing list suggested Hayashimizu’s house was nearby.
It was around dusk, in a neighborhood filled with grand estates. The group wandered around, occasionally checking the address they’d written down.
“Bet he lives in a mansion or something,” Hayato speculated.
“I think it’ll be a normal house,” Hiromi argued.
Just then, from the opposite street, another student from their same school approached. She was a girl with sleek black hair and an old-style beauty about her—the student council secretary, Mikihara Ren. In her right hand was her school satchel; in her left, a bag from the supermarket. She plodded along, looking disheartened.
“O-Ren-san?” Kaname asked.
Ren suddenly noticed them and stopped. “Oh, my...” She looked around, flustered, as if surprised to see them.
“What are you doing here?” Kaname asked. “I thought you’d gone home for the day.”
“Oh... well, for no particular reason, I decided to stop here on the way home and have a walk around the area...”
“Isn’t your house in the other direction?”
“Why, I suppose it is. I must have gone the wrong way home,” said Ren. “Silly me. Well, take care, all...” She began to swiftly walk away.
But Kaname grabbed her shoulder. “Did you come to check on Senpai?”
“Yes, I did,” Ren admitted with surprising ease. “As his secretary, I feel a certain responsibility to him... But I’ve never been to his house before. I took his address from the mailing list, but I’ve been walking around for a while now, unable to find it, and I seem to have gotten lost...” Ren’s cheeks grew redder and redder as she spoke.
“Hmm... As his secretary, huh?” Kaname said skeptically.
The others laughed knowingly.
“Incidentally, the president’s house should be right here,” Sousuke said as he looked between the written-down address and the map.
They stopped and looked up inquisitively at an old, Western-style estate. It was a red brick building and showed signs of age; vines grew thickly along the walls, and it seemed quite antiquated in comparison with the modern houses around it. The yard also seemed to be poorly tended, and the modestly sized lawn was thick with weeds.
“You’re sure?” Kaname asked.
“This is the only house number 30 in the third district,” Sousuke said, once more looking between the district marker written on a nearby power pole and the note in his hand. “We should check inside and confirm,” he proposed, then opened the rusty gate and began marching up to the front door.
“Hey, Sousuke?”
“I guarantee there are no traps. Come along,” Sousuke said before knocking.
After a brief wait, the heavy door slowly opened and a young woman looked out. She was Caucasian rather than Japanese, a very sexy lady dressed in a tank top and shorts. She had blue eyes with a rather sleepy cast to them and long, sleek blonde hair.
“Um...”
“Can I help you?” she asked in fluent Japanese, causing Hayato and Hiromi to draw back in surprise. “Sorry, but if this is a fundraiser, I have to turn you away. We don’t have any money to spare.”
“Oh... actually, we were wondering if Hayashimizu Atsunobu lived here?” Kaname asked.
The woman ran a hand through her blonde hair. “Oh, Atsunobu?” she asked. “Why do you want him? Who are you people?”
“We’re his kohai at school. We’re... wait, who exactly are you?”
The girl gave them a suggestive smile and a wink. “I’m his woman. I live here with him.”
“What?!”
“Eh?!” All of them except for Sousuke started in shock.
His woman? Hayashimizu Atsunobu’s woman?! Hayashimizu Atsunobu, the school’s biggest overachiever and president of the student council, was cohabiting with a blonde bombshell?!
“Senpai’s cohabiting?! It’s the song Kandagawa come to life!” Hiromi shouted.
“Senpai’s a mature man. An adult. And an international adult, at that...” Hayato mused.
“Oh, Lord! Have pity on this forsaken world!” Kaname shouted to the heavens above.
The woman just shrugged as she watched them. “Um, I was actually kidding.”
The three overwrought students froze in place.
“Kidding?” Hiromi asked.
“Yes, though it’s true that we do both live here,” the woman admitted. “My name is Natalia Tudakov. I came here on a work visa to escape the civil war in Siberia... ah. Excuse me, miss, are you all right?”
Kaname noticed Natalia was looking behind them, and turned to see what she was looking at. “O-Ren-san?”
There was no response. No expression. And then, as they watched, Ren began to tip over, and... Crack. She hit the back of her head on a pillar on the porch and fell still.
Using a traffic safety signboard that happened to be leaning against the power pole as an impromptu stretcher, the others brought Ren into the mansion.
“Hurry! Call an ambulator or an ambulance or Dr. Green from ER!”
“Mikihara-senpai, can you hear me? I swear we’ll make you better!”
“Patient is a sixteen-year-old girl. Blunt trauma to the back of the head. Blood pressure, 110 over 60. Breathing rate, thirty—”
“I need four units of O negative and a two-liter saline drip! Prepare for intubation!”
“Do you guys even know what you’re saying?” Hayato snarked.
Her fellow council members brought the unconscious Ren into the mansion, acting like they were in some kind of medical drama.
The house’s interior matched the exterior’s Western-style aesthetic. It was like a house you’d see in a horror movie: a vast, empty atrium-style hall, flanked by doors on the first and second floors. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling, and below it, for some reason, sat a few beat-up sofas and a table.
“Should we lay her there?”
“Right. Transferring! One, two, three!”
As they moved Ren to a nearby sofa, Sousuke knelt by her side and quickly checked her condition.
“Well?” Kaname breathed nervously.
“No issue, it seems. She should wake up soon, but she should have tests done at a hospital within the next few days to be sure,” Sousuke responded calmly.
“It must have been the shock of the cohabitation announcement...”
“The way she acted yesterday, I assumed she wasn’t interested in him after all... but this...”
“Yeah. She even bought ingredients to make him a home-cooked meal,” Kaname muttered, then asked Natalia, “By the way, what is this place?”
“Oh, well—” Just as Natalia was about to explain, the door to one of the rooms on the second floor opened.
“Geh... What is all this fuss about?” A swarthy young man speaking strongly accented Japanese came out, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “No, no, no, this will not do. Do you not know what time it is? I cannot sleep like this.”
Then the next door opened and a Caucasian man entered. His hair was disheveled as he uttered to himself in a thick Kansai accent, “So annoying... Natalia-chan. I’m real delicate when I’m sleepin’. Please, I’m beggin’ you...”
Then another door opened and a bald black preacher walked out. He wore round sunglasses and a high-collared priest’s uniform, carrying a laptop under his arm. “Amen! Morning, all! I hope you’re feeling well. It’s as if I’m hearing the groovy voice of the Lord himself out here,” he said with the sonorous voice of a true public speaker. “And welcome, guests! I don’t know why you’re here, but make yourselves at home and rest your weary souls!”
The students looked up at the foreigners in wonder.
Japan was currently in a recession. The bursting of the bubble had made it so that even the most basic rental units were standing vacant for long periods of time. Apparently, more and more landlords were deciding that renting rooms to foreigners—to whom they normally wouldn’t cater—was preferable to empty real estate.
The resulting lodgings were known as “foreigner houses,” and this Western-style building had been converted into one such space. Few modifications had been made to the interior; the residents used the open rooms as bedrooms, and the bathrooms and kitchen were all shared. The hall they’d taken Ren into was a communal space for the residents.
“So, is Hayashimizu-senpai here?” Kaname asked the eccentric figures who had come down into the hall to sit down on the sofa facing them.
“Yes, I believe he said he had a cold yesterday, but I haven’t seen him since. Have any of you heard?” Natalia asked the group.
“I have no idea.”
“Nah, me neither.”
“Only God knows!”
The three lodgers all shook their heads.
“Which is his room?” Kaname asked.
“There, on floor number two,” Natalia told her. “Number one is wee-wee.”
“Thanks.” Kaname strode up the stairway and knocked on Hayashimizu’s door. No response. She listened in but didn’t sense anyone present. “Looks like he’s not here,” she announced as she returned to the hall. “Any idea where he could have gone?”
“None. I was asleep until just now, myself,” Natalia answered. “He may have gone to the hospital. There’s a clinic open until late nearby. Why don’t you wait here a while and see?”
“Hmm...”
The four students discussed it and eventually decided to wait for Hayashimizu’s return. Ren was still unconscious either way, after all.
“All right, that’s what we’ll do,” Kaname said, then acknowledged the other residents with a small smile.
“Yes, take all the time you like, my children!” said the suspicious preacher, who clapped his hands and leaned forward. “Now, let’s have some introductions. My name is Biz O’Neil; a servant of the Lord, if it wasn’t clear enough. We’ll do our best to entertain you as you pass the time. No need to worry; none of us have anywhere better to be today. We have a variety of drinks available: Coors, Budweiser, Heineken, Super Dry...” The preacher produced various cans from a fridge behind the sofa and lined them up on the table.
“It’s all beer?” Kaname asked.
“You don’t drink?”
“Actually, we’re underage.”
“So what?”
“You’re not supposed to give alcohol to children,” she reminded him.
Preacher O’Neil nudged his round glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Beautiful girl, those are man’s laws. To deny humans what they desire is the work of Satan’s servants, acting in the guise of righteous men. That’s how they defraud our brothers and sisters all over the world.”
“Uh-huh...”
“But you must not fall for their lies, my girl. Anything they forbid, we must have courage to embrace,” the preacher instructed. “Pull the tab like this, and then...” The beer can opened with a pop. “Put your mouth to the opening, and...”
Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.
“Mm... ahhhh! Great! Truly delicious! We thank you, O Lord, for these, your bounties!” Preacher O’Neil chugged the rest, then turned his face gratefully to heaven above. “Do you see? This is rebellion. Use the power of your youth to follow my example.”
“Is he really a man of God?” Kaname asked under her breath.
Meanwhile, Hayato casually reached for the beer on the table. “All right, I’ll take one.”
“Er, Okada-kun?” Kaname protested.
“Don’t be such a stiff,” he said teasingly. “Everyone does it nowadays. Our class even had a drinking party after the sports tournament, remember?”
“Yeah. It’s all right to partake in moderation,” Hiromi agreed, reaching for his own can of beer.
“Magnificent! You are the truly righteous men who shall cast their light on the valley of death! Drink deep, now!” With O’Neil egging them on, Hayato and Hiromi opened their cans.
“Cheers. C’mon, Chidori-senpai, Sagara-senpai, join in,” Hayato urged them.
“Right. Join them in taking this enormous step!” O’Neil opened the pop-tab on a Super Dry and thrust it out at Kaname and Sousuke.
Kaname looked at it silently. It was a cold silver can, dappled with clear water droplets. The foaming inside the can was pleasant to the ear. It suddenly occurred to her that she was feeling a little thirsty, and she was curious, so... “Just a little, then,” Kaname said, holding the can gingerly in both hands as she took the tiniest sip.
“Whoooah!” The entire group, except for Sousuke, applauded. The other residents then merrily popped their own tabs and started drinking.
“What a cute little drinking style,” Natalia gushed.
“For sure. So innocent. It really gets me goin’.”
“Eh? I did not see it. Pretty girl, please drink again!”
Kaname felt a little uneasy in the face of the strange praise. “Huh? Um, I...”
“Drink! Drink! Drink!”
Unable to resist the call, Kaname took another sip.
“Whoooah!” came another encouraging cry.
Kaname smiled bashfully. “Ha... ha ha. What about you, Sousuke?”
“I’ll pass,” Sousuke said immediately.
Natalia leaned forward. “No convincing you?”
“No,” he denied adamantly. “Alcohol destroys brain cells.”
Natalia thought that over for a moment. Then she said, “How about orange juice, then?” as she pulled a juice bottle from the refrigerator and poured some into a tumbler.
“Thank you.” Taking the glass, Sousuke drank down the juice in one gulp. “A curious flavor.”
“That’s real orange juice, containing the true light of the sun and the hearts of Ehime farmers. It’s not like most juices,” Natalia boasted.
“I see. How educational.”
“Want a little more?” Natalia grinned.
“Perhaps. I will try one more.” Sousuke said, holding out his glass.
The impromptu drinking party was still going an hour later. O’Neil brought out a CD cassette player and started blaring James Brown’s greatest hits, which had Kaname feeling fired up.
O’Neil was right. We’d be really bored waiting for Hayashimizu to come back otherwise, but this is a really fun time! And he still hasn’t shown up, anyway... she thought. “Oh, by the way...” Kaname then spoke aloud, her third beer in hand. “What’s Senpai doing, staying in this run-down old guest house? Er, sorry for the phrasing, but...”
“Of course, this is because the rent is cheap,”
“Nothin’ wrong with a Japanese person livin’ here.”
“I admire that he earns all of his school and lifestyle funds himself at his young age,” Preacher O’Neil put in. “It’s truly inspiring! Even God Almighty is surely weeping from the firmament!”
The strange foreigners all testified merrily on Hayashimizu’s behalf.
Kaname recalled something Hayashimizu had said once about being effectively disowned by his father. He’d been expected to go to a prep school, but certain events in his life had led to him pushing back and attending Jindai High instead.
“Senpai’s a harder worker than I expected,” Hiromi whispered, his face bright red.
Kaname smiled groggily. “Yeah... He’s pretty amazing. Trying to live all off on his own like this without relying on his father’s money. It’s pretty darn cool... I’m looking at him in a whole new light.”
While Kaname was singing his praises, Sousuke suddenly shook his head and arms rapidly, as if trying to assert his presence.
“What’s that? Pantomime?” Kaname asked.
“No, I just...” Sousuke, looking vaguely hurt, turned his eyes downward as Kaname just drank more of her beer.
“Hmm... I’m not sure I’d call him a hard worker, though. I don’t know what he does to make money, and he is the most well-off of the lodgers here,” Natalia murmured, arms folded.
“Really?”
“Yes. Every morning he reads the Nikkei, so perhaps he plays the stocks,” she mused. “And he never loses in our poker or mahjong games.”
“Not exactly making his money through hard work, then...” Kaname muttered, shoulders slumping. It’d be more impressive if he was delivering newspapers or something. But just as she thought that...
“Whoooah! I feel good! Da-na-na-na-na-na-na! I knew that I would, now! Da-na-na-na-na-na-na!” Okada Hayato, who was now on his sixth beer, began dancing and shouting along to the song on the tape player. The lodgers all leaped to their feet and clapped in time.
“Ahh, Oka-pii’s all worked up. Keep it together, man. Ha ha ha...” Kaname laughed before turning her eyes to Sasaki Hiromi, who was seated across from her.
Hiromi seemed to be engaged in a fervent conversation with the Kansai-accented Caucasian, and just as Kaname looked over, he suddenly stood up and shouted. “You just don’t get it!”
“Don’t get what now?” the Kansai speaker asked.
“The VF-0 and the SV-51 are superior to the fighter jets that came before!” Hiromi insisted. “They already have electromagnetic stealth features like ECS, which means contemporary radar can’t even track them!”
“But then why does the VF-17 look like that?” the Kansai speaker demanded to know. “It doesn’t make sense!”
“The polite thing to do is to interpret it as a stealth shape designed to foil electromagnetic scanning methods that came about in the years after the VF-0! In other words, the second generation of the AVF’s active stealth system!” Hiromi told him hotly. “The VF-1’s radar also probably works on different systems than any before it—an ultrawideband radar like an ECCS instead of a phased array. Darn it! Those well-meaning geeks of old were doing the best they could at the time, but you young otaku these days can’t stop nitpicking their work! Do you think that makes you feel like a big man? You should be ashamed of yourself!”
“D-Did you just insult me?! How dare you!”
“Yeah, I did! Go ahead and get mad!”
They moved on from the baffling war of words into a proper grapple, but Kaname and the others didn’t interfere. It was clearly a deep-cut conversation that only the two of them understood.
“Don’t get too rough, you two,” Kaname said with a cackle as she finished her beer. She was feeling great. The fact that she had to get up early tomorrow, the fact that they were waiting for someone here... all of it had slipped her mind.
Yeah. This is nice, she thought. I feel all melty and warm all over. Actually, it’s getting pretty hot in here... I should take off my jacket. And my ribbon tie’s kinda stuffy, too, so off it goes. And I’ll undo a few blouse buttons... Boy, you can see all of my cleavage. Whatever, though. My toes are on fire, so I’ll take off my socks. And my skirt is digging into my stomach— ah, better not do that one. Ha ha ha...
Sprawling slavishly over the sofa, Kaname popped the tab on her next beer can. Amid the commotion she glanced over at Sousuke, who was still sipping his orange juice. “Still on the juice, huh? Stubborn jerk... Take this!” Kaname poked the back of Sousuke’s head with uncharacteristic familiarity.
“I am technically Muslim, you know,” Sousuke reminded her.
“Ha ha ha. Really?”
“Technically, yes. I was raised in Afghanistan,” he pointed out. “All of the guerrillas were Muslim.”
“First I’ve heard of it. Ha ha ha...” It was the kind of thing she’d normally have a strong reaction to, but today, Kaname just laughed it off.
Sousuke continued on. “We weren’t particularly strict adherents, but we did follow the basic tenets.”
“Hmm... So alcohol’s totally out?” she asked.
“Well... Technically, not all alcohol is forbidden.”
“Have a drink, then.”
“No. Drinking is foolish. The alcohol, but also... women. Especially... you know. That.” He gestured vaguely at Kaname’s bare legs. “There were many things... about Japanese schools that surprised me. One of them... the women’s dress. You all wear those short skirts...”
“Huh?”
“Don’t get the wrong idea. Ah... How do I say it?” he mused. “No woman in Afghanistan dressed that way, so you look almost naked to me. For the sake of my mission, I put it out of my mind, and I’ve grown accustomed to it by now, but... By the way, it was the same with the beach. That swimsuit... It’s not that I was surprised so much as... it seemed like a poor choice. There were so many men around you who weren’t your husband... Not to mention the lack of protection from the sun... Ah, yes... so much skin exposure is really... not good,” Sousuke went on, although his thoughts seemed rather jumbled.
It was unprecedented for Sousuke to talk like this in any situation. The Sousuke she knew was always poker-faced and calm, no matter how he was really feeling! But the inner workings of Kaname’s own brain had also slowed down severely, so all she could think of was, What a weirdo.
“Hmm... I don’t think I really get it,” she admitted, “but...”
“Obviously, I will not berate you for it,” Sousuke said. “But I wish you’d have a bit more self-awareness. It sometimes... gets to me. You, especially, are...”
“I’m what?”
“Oh, you’re... ah, I forget.”
“Aw, c’mon! I wanna know!” Kaname cajoled him, clapping Sousuke on the back.
“Sorry. I think... there’s alcohol in this juice,” he told her. “Anyway... you are... a good person.”
“Of coursh I am,” said Kaname. “Weirdo... Ha ha ha...”
“Chidori, get offa me...”
“Ahaha... Sho bashful. Like Bonta-kun. Cuuute!” When Kaname gave Sousuke a tight hug and clapped him on the back again, he turned bright red and began to flail around.
Meanwhile...
“Wa ha ha ha!”
Hayato and the others were laughing uproariously. Hiromi and the man with the Kansai accent seemed to have achieved a ceasefire, because now they were shaking hands firmly and congratulating each other on a debate well fought. And Mikihara Ren, who’d woken up at some point, was sipping some Japanese sake, encouraged by O’Neil. Sousuke, the cocktail seeming to disagree with him, had turned melancholic. Natalia revealed that she worked as a topless dancer and was greeted by a round of applause for some reason.
“Wooow! Huh? You mean that thing where you grab a pole that goes into the ceiling and the floor and move your hips around, like in American cop movies?!” asked Kaname, clearly impressed.
“Yep! That’s the standard way to do it,” Natalia confirmed. “You want to try, Kaname-chan? You could quit school.”
“Hah! Great idea!” Miming grasping an invisible pole, Natalia and Kaname began grinding their hips in the manner of an exotic dance.
Sousuke grabbed her arm, looking tormented. “No... I won’t allow it. Chidori...”
“Aw, I’m just kidding around! Why’d you take it so seriously?” Kaname laughed, wapping him cheerfully on the back of the head. Her vision and mind were growing hazy, and she felt strangely floaty. She found herself asking the group, “Was I awesome?”
“Awful!” they shot back.
“Agh, this is fun!” she crowed. “What time is it?”
“I dunno, but they had baseball news on the TV earlier...”
Which meant it was after eleven o’clock at night. But who cared? Hayashimizu-senpai still wasn’t back.
“Great, great!”
“Number one, Chidori Kaname, getting undressed!”
“Ohhh?” the group called.
“Don’t do it... Chidori...” Sousuke moaned.
“Just kidding!” she teased them. “Clothes stay on!”
“Boo! Boo!” came the jeers.
Sousuke slumped in disappointment.
Beside him, Ren suddenly cried, “Cohabitation? You can’t!”
“That conversation is over!” Kaname barked.
“Really? I’m so sorry...” Ren slumped over.
Then Hiromi shouted out, “I’m telling you, the stealth function of the VF-0—”
“That’s over too!”
“But the stealth—”
“Shut up! No one cares!” Blamblam! Blamblamblam! Kaname fired a pistol at Hiromi’s feet. Sparks and bits of concrete flew as smoke rose from the black muzzle.
“Gwah! Chidori-senpai, stop!”
“Hmm?” Kaname tilted her head at the sight of Sousuke’s pistol, which seemed to have appeared in her hand out of nowhere.
Sousuke grabbed her shakily by the shoulder. “Chidori... give the gun back,” he told her urgently.
“No way. Revenge time. Ha ha ha ha ha...” Blamblam! Blamblamblamblamblamblam! Growing even more encouraged, she began firing wildly at the ceiling. A ricochet severed a chain overhead and brought the chandelier plummeting to earth.
Crash!
It crushed the table they were sitting around, casting glass shards, sprays of beer, and scattered kaki-peanuts all over the floor.
“Everyone okaaay?” Kaname called.
“We’re okaaay!” came the lively reply.
“Right. Okay, let’s try this next!” Kaname tossed aside the spent gun and hefted up a grenade she’d found somewhere.
“Chidori... that’s not funny. It’s dangerous Give it ba—” Pale and breathless, Sousuke tried to warn her.
But Kaname just leaned in to him, close enough for their noses to touch. Her manner turned a little teasing. “Nope,” she said. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were dewy. Her flushed face took up the entirety of his vision. “You’re always, always makin’ me shuffer like this. Sheriously, ev’ry dang day. Don’tcha know how much ya make me worry? You can’t just always make trouble for us.”
“I’m... sorry about that. I’m sorry, so please, give it back.”
“I’ll forgive you fer ’pparently starin’ at my legs all this time... Guess I feel a little happy ’bout that, acshully... Ha ha. Sheesh...”
“Chidori...” he tried again.
“But nope. I’m gonna make you feel how I do for onshe. Got it?”
Sousuke leaned forward. “But—”
Bip. Kaname suddenly kissed the tip of his nose, and Sousuke froze at the sensation. His brain locked up and he was rendered totally immobile.
“Hee hee...” Kaname pulled away innocently, then shouted to the group, “Okay, here we go! Blow it up! Blow it up!”
“I don’t get it, but go! Go!” The group waved their hands.
“Okay, I took out the pin! I’m gonna throw it now! Everyone, get down!”
The group did as they were told. The grenade rolled along the floor...
Ka-boom!
A roar rang out as the grenade detonated. The shock wave and shrapnel shook the house as the glass in the windows shattered, and ceiling plaster showered down.
“Tamayaaa!” the group shouted, clapping, as if it were a fireworks show.
“Ch-Chidori...”
“There’s a lot more where that came from! Get down, get down, get down!” Kaname pulled out even more grenades and began tossing them all over the hall.
●
Around six o’clock the next morning, on the road leading west from Nishi-Ogikubo...
“Turn right here, right?!”
“Yes! Turn right!”
The motorcycle’s driver, Kusakabe Kyoya, shouted his question, and Hayashimizu Atsunobu strained to respond from the sidecar. The helmets they were wearing, combined with the wind rushing past, made it difficult to hear.
“And then what?! Straight?!”
“Right across from the next intersection! Let me off there!”
The motorcycle stopped in front of an old Western-style mansion at the center of the residential area. The engine noise died down and the area around them fell into silence. Dawn was just breaking.
“Thank you for letting me stay with you, and for the ride home,” Hayashimizu said as he removed his helmet and disembarked from the sidecar.
Kusakabe turned away sulkily. “Don’t thank me; it’s weird. So, you live here now, Atsunobu?”
“Yes.”
Kusakabe hummed as he looked over the guest house that Hayashimizu now called home. “What the heck? It’s dirty, but it’s a damn mansion. You said staying there would make your cold worse, so I assumed it was some slumlord apartment...”
“I meant what I said, but the real reason is that my co-residents hold a loud drinking party every evening. They’ll even bring it into my room if I don’t stop them. It requires a great deal of stamina to resist them.”
“Hmm...”
“My condition has greatly improved, so I should be able to attend today’s school event,” Hayashimizu concluded. “Although I’ll unfortunately have to continue resisting their invitations to drink...”
“Sheesh,” said Kyoya. “Sounds like a tough life.”
“Well, it’s good experience as well. Do you want to stop in?” Hayashimizu offered.
Kyoya hesitated for a minute, then shrugged and said, “Sure. And while we’re at it, you can return that CD you borrowed from me ages ago.”
“CD?”
“The one I borrowed from Tomoko.”
“You’d borrowed it from her?” Hayashimizu asked in surprise as the two left the motorcycle at the gate and headed for the mansion. They passed through the gate, walked up to the porch, and...
The double-doors that usually marked the front door were gone, now lying in pieces all over the lawn. The soot-stained fragments suggested there’d been an explosion inside.
“What happened here?” Kyoya asked.
“I don’t know,” said Hayashimizu.
The two of them frowned as they passed through the entrance and then fell silent as they took in the entry hall’s sorry state: the table was crushed; the chandelier was in pieces; the walls had caved in; the ceiling and floor were riddled with bullet holes. The smell of gunpowder and booze pervaded the room, and the bodies—
Human bodies littered the hall and stairway. From time to time, one let out a low moan that echoed emptily through the hall.
“It hurts... It hurts...”
“N-Need water...”
In addition to the usual attendees of the house’s wild parties, Kaname and other members of the student council were collapsed there as well.
“Goodness... what happened here?” Hayashimizu whispered.
“World War III?” Kyoya responded, as they stood there staring from the door.
In the end, only Hayashimizu Atsunobu attended that day’s cultural outing. The others gave the excuse that they’d caught colds, but the truth was that they all had hangovers.
It turned out, though, that the rumors had been greatly exaggerated, and the director they had to interview wasn’t nearly as violent as they’d feared.
Incidentally, when Kaname finally woke up around noon, she did so with no memory of the night before. She was furious when she saw the condition of the guest house and started smacking Sousuke around, insisting he’d “done it again.”
Sousuke’s own memories were hazy, and while he felt something wasn’t quite right with her accusations, he decided not to argue. He felt like the scolding was undeserved, but he was used to it by now.
Still, the destruction of the mansion aside, there was something he couldn’t get out of his head...
What was that sweet sensation lingering on the tip of his nose?
〈The Turnabout Drunkards — The End〉
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