Grimgal of Ashes and Illusion - Volume 13 - Chapter SS1

Scene #9: A Man’s Journey

It happened one day after school, not long after they were first admitted.

“Hey, hold on, Tanaka,” their homeroom teacher called on him, apparently with something to discuss.

Renji sensed it was a rude way of addressing him. But he couldn’t snap at the guy. He just responded to rude with rude. That was all. “Yeah?”

“Uh... No... It’s... nothing... I’m sorry.” The teacher sounded more and more hesitant, and then finally he vanished on his own, beating a hasty retreat.

The lively classroom fell into an uneasy silence. When Renji looked around, people looked tense, and his classmates recoiled from him. Even Renji got irritated by this.

What’s their problem? he thought. Then, despite himself, he clicked his tongue. One of the girls started to cry.

Deep down, Renji was surprised, but he knew asking her “What’s wrong?” would backfire. He hadn’t done anything that merited an apology, either, as far as he was concerned. So Renji left the classroom.

From then on, as it had always been, Tanaka Renji was alone.

It wasn’t that Renji favored solitude; he simply didn’t abhor it. He hated fools. More than anything, he couldn’t stand those who got in his way. If he had to force himself to fit in, he’d rather be by himself.

He wasn’t going out of his way to intimidate others. He just wouldn’t butter people up, pander to them, or try to ingratiate himself to them.

He did not abhor solitude.

However, he was aware that his heart was frayed.

Why am I so frustrated? he wondered.

If he took out his anger on something, that might be a temporary solution, but the ugliness of that act would leave him sore. The memory of having done something so foolish would follow and torment Renji.

While he was feeling depressed, a path opened in front of Renji. Whenever Renji walked the halls, the students parted left and right to clear his way.

“Am I Moses now...?” he whispered.

Those words tickled his funny bone in a weird way, and he nearly burst out laughing despite himself. They came back to him again and again in class, and every time, he came close to laughing.

Damn, it was annoying. If he started laughing in the middle of class because he remembered something, he’d look like a total weirdo. He managed to hold it in somehow, but he reached his limit once he was back home and alone in his room.

He laughed so hard that his face became a mess of snot and tears, and his sides felt like they were about to burst.

When the impulse to laugh finally faded, he felt better than he ever had before.

“Is this it?” he wondered. “What I was looking for?”

Laughter.

No, comedy.

From that day on, he spent a lot of time searching the web for manzai comedy and comedic skits. He checked out all the comedy programs on TV. If he caught wind that a comedian on his radar was doing a live show, he got tickets and transportation to go see it. He even started working harder at his part-time job to do it. When something struck him as funny, he’d jot it down, and read it over and over. He only read the lines out loud at first, but eventually he started doing imitations, as well.

“I could write my own material, couldn’t I?” Renji wondered.

Renji had no end of respect for the comedians who were able to repeatedly hit his funny bone. That was why he wasn’t conceited enough to think he could write funnier stuff than they had. However, he didn’t just want to enjoy the work of others, he wanted to analyze it. To see what was funny, why, and how. As he did that, he naturally came to his own theory of comedy. Was it right, though? He wanted to test it.

Renji wrote material. Skits and manzai. He swore to himself he’d write at least one thing a day, and sometimes even stayed up all night writing.

It felt right. He might not be on the level of the comedians he admired, but it was still decently funny stuff. At the very least, he thought his own jokes were funny. Even if it was him performing them, they were funny. But would they get a laugh out of others? He wanted to test it. But how? Was he going to perform on the street? That would be embarrassing. Intensely. Still, though.

I want to try it.

He couldn’t deny he had that desire. If he went to a faraway town, one where he was unlikely to encounter his classmates, family, or relatives, just maybe...

There was one problem.

The majority of the comedians he respected were duos, so all of Renji’s material was meant to be performed with a partner. There was no way he could play both the funny man and straight man.

“A partner...” he murmured.

Renji Tanaka’s journey had only just begun.