Yeah. That was a bitch.

New character! Tomboy childhood friend of Steve, who’s from Britain, and apparently grew up here. Analysis: why do I have to care? Why’d she have to search me out instead of leaving me alone and working shit out with Steve? I’d been having a mostly nice and non-painful day before fucking Elizabeth showed up complaining about Someone Else’s lack of social grace.

Could I have addressed the problem better? Yes. Should there have been a problem? NO! No, there shouldn’t have been. I should have seen this coming from the start of the conversation, seeing as the second resort for any anime character unable to process dialogue is slapstick, which it seems I, in particular, am susceptible to, seeing as I am the only anime character in existence to have injurial causality. I shouldn’t even have these bruises, let alone feel lasting pain!

Fucking gimme your physics, anime! I don’t care if my pecs start shaking with the ferocity of five cats in a three cat bag, I just want to bend my arms again!

I’m getting way too much mileage out of my mother’s boobs, is that really the only ridiculous thing I can make fun of? I mean I literally just got a panty shot where a British person was wearing union jack panties. Imagine being British and patriotic; the only people allowed to actually like their flag are us Americans!

I also have to say that this does not bode well for my “stay away from the other anime protagonist” plan. Especially since I gave them the plot hook of Akane giving me a root beer every day. Maybe, just maybe, I could sic my sister on her for stealing her name… no. There’d still be a paper trail back to me.

And I don't want her dead.

Though, this only happened because I tried to give advice to Steve. Perhaps the solution is to just… not to talk to him? Avoid him even? Fucking genius. It might even work. I even have an alibi of why! Asshole, sicing his haremettes on me for just trying to help a dude out. That wins you no favors on my part. No siree.

It’s not like I share any classes with him so, barring unforeseen circumstances, which shall not be named nor courted, I'll only talk to him by bumping into him randomly. Thank god for the Japanese class system. School classes, not the economic version, which I assume will be a different problem. By taking reasonable precautions the greatest extent of my interactions with him should be him accidentally sending jilted hitwomen after me.

Wait fuck, I know better than to tempt fate when I’m in a story. No! Now it’s going to be jilted hitmen too! What have I done!? First I’m investigated by the lesbian cia for my non-existant suavity and now I’m going to be merced by femboy John Wick for setting Steve up with a girl!

“Oi, what’s got you chuckling down there? You ready to come out yet?” Obi knocked on the bench I'm still under.

“Sometimes when people are overwhelmed by pain they start laughing. Most of these people are masochists.” Silver provided. She’s been getting real snippy. There’s a line between wit and snark, and yer toein’ it, lady.

“If he was a masochist he probably would’ve run during PE and enjoyed it.”

“Oh. Are you one then?” There was a small pause. I could feel the awkwardness.

Also, you’ve taken a step back in my book. He did walk right into that one. I mean, nose bleeds like that one have to hurt, right?

“Aoki-san, seriously, are you ok?” Nice dodge, Gary.

“Yeah,” I responded, “It’s just that moving my arms still rather hurts. Fuck, I wish I was a masochist, if I was I would’ve let that tomboy step on me and not ended up under here in the first place.” But I would’ve ended up with a boot print on my face that wouldn’t go away for a week. so I may have lost the battle, but I won the war!

“Well,” Silver said, “now that you are confirmed to be awake, and unable to refuse questions. What did you mean by the Black Rose accidently asking you out? We were interrupted earlier.”

“Well, I could recount the entire encounter with you, but basically she had her spy ring look into me then ambushed me while I was walking to the classroom after extort *cough* demanding reparations from the person who gave me these bruises. Spy ring, veiled porn accusation, squeeing voyeurs, blah blah blah, she invited me to read passionate literature with her in the library, I said sure, she started acting triumphant, and I said ‘yeah yeah you asked me out, accept my surrender with grace’ and then she got all shocked and was like ‘wait I asked you out?’ and that’s about it.”

“It can’t be that simple! What’s all that you skipped over!?” Obi shouted, jumping up and pointing at me. I could see him through the slats. Did I even finish my lunch? It can’t have been that bland that I forgot eating it right? “She’s The Black Rose! You can’t just get her through stupid word games!” Dude, I didn’t even try. It was all her.

“Why’s she even called ‘The Black Rose?’ Also, she’s her own person, if she chooses to let her knees get wobbly because she asked her ‘destined’ out, more power to her.” Obi’s voice faltered a bit.

“I… don’t know, it’s just that everyone else calls her that." Damn, a testament to the speed of rumor. We’ve been here two days, remember. "She’s the student council president, too, they’re supposed to have titles like that. In middle school our student council president was The Iron Fist. He didn’t like being called that.”

“Why? Was he a tyrannical dickhead?”

“Well, yes, he was,” Obi conceded, “but he had a prosthetic hand made of plastic and he disliked the inaccuracy more. He wanted us to call him The Polypropylene Fist, instead.”

“Ah, so he was anal retentive, and unselfaware, too.” Some people. I’d shake my head, but my face is on the ground.

“It is because she is unobtainable and dangerous. Like a black rose.” Oh yeah, black roses aren’t really a thing are they. I remember watching Babylon five with my father, and there was an episode about a black rose and immortality, though I might be mixing plot lines. He told me that there aren’t any true natural black roses in existence.

“Haaa? How’s a black rose unobtainable and dangerous? It’s just a flower.” He’d had me sit down in the living room and watch the show with him when I was 12 or something, and I wish he had made me finish watching it with him. If I had watched it with him now there are so many more things we could discuss.

“It symbolises death, despair, and hatred in European flower language, and often represents obsessive love in fiction. I heard in my middle school that many boys would try and fail to become her destined. That is the fate of those who court her.”

The broken leg episode with the scarf aliens, and how to deal with such a divided society. The merits between the philosophies for fostering civilizations of the shadow aliens, and those space suit light ones. Fuck, I don’t even know if Babylon 5 even exists here, or is something like Ur-Station 7, or something.

“How’d you even know about the flower language thing.”

I miss my father. It’s only been two days, but if he was here… I wish I could ask him for advice. He probably wouldn’t have much for me, but just talking to him would be comforting.

“I looked it up. Aoki-san,” Silver caught my attention.

I jumped a bit from being pulled out of my thoughts, “Yes, sorry?” I did a bit of floor gymnastics so that I pivoted onto my back on my shoulder so I didn’t roll over my elbow. I barely avoided clipping my other elbow on the bottom of the bench, but I still avoided it, so it’s all fine. The slight twist pop of my hip is nothing to worry about, as it stopped hurting almost immediately.

“I answered your question.” She informed me.

“I’m so sorry, it went one ear and out the other, could you repeat it?” Silver exhaled loudly, I think in an attempt at a sigh. While it met the first part of the definition by being a loud exhalation, it, like most of her speech, lacked any tone to tell her emotions from.

“In my middle school a bunch of boys went after her, and in fiction, black roses represent obsessive love, and in flower language, they mean hatred, death, and despair.”

“You knew her in middle school?”

“No. She was well known. I was focused on... other things… but I still heard about her and saw her sometimes.” That was a suspicious pause there, Silver… I’m going to scrounge out your backstory, then hound the people who bullied you.

I assume it was bullying, anyway, she seemed to have some carry over with the Gal going on.

“Was she called the Black Rose then, as well? And the student council president?”

“Yes.”

Huh, well at least there’s an origin and some sort of precedent for presidents to have nicknames. Ha, alliteration.

“What about you,” Obi asked, “how was your middle school student council president?”

Oh fuck, I didn’t have a student council president. I didn’t even go to middle school! Well technically I did, and I have no shame for what I did in it. Shame would imply I wish I did something differently. I mean, it culminated in me getting called a ‘gay pony boy’ on the bus and being comforted by my schizophrenic seatmate, and being able to legitimately say that absurd sentence with sincerity was completely worth the temporary emotional distress, but I can’t tell them that. Japanese schools don’t have buses! And I’m not actually sure she had schizophrenia, we were young, and people lie, you know.

And, well, I wasn't in this body, but that’s beside the point.

“I don’t want to talk about middle school.” I declare, what are they going to do? Push me for more information? Especially after this?! “Alright, move your legs, I'm getting up and y’all’re in the way. I need to finish my lunch; is it still there?” I’m pretty sure my dive roll didn’t spill my lunch. For one I didn’t make note of it when I was in the middle of the action, but two: there’s no fish on the ground.

I drag myself out from under the bench using my legs in a sort of half crab walk, and hold my arms up. Ow, my head. I sit up and use that momentum to carry me to my feet with a ‘hup.’ “Ole richtig. Where’s my lunch?” I turn around and Silver is holding out my lunch with both hands, with the lid on, and the chopsticks securely bound together in their sleeve. I reach out and take it, bowing with my left arm at my waist like an aristocrat, “Thank you ever so much, your preservation of my satiation fills me with appreciation.”

Silver blinks, “Food should never go to waste.” I agree, my mother put so much effort into making the food, and I shouldn't let those children in Africa starve to death, should I? I re-unpackage my meal and notice that I'm missing a quarter of my rice. I’m fairly certain I never got a bite in. I side eye Silver, who unsurprisingly, does not move or give any indication that she’s a cereal stealer.

I guess it did go to those African children. Good for them, they deserve it.

“You’re so strange.” Obi comments absently. I raise my eyebrow at him, as I take my seat on the bench. I’m no longer in the middle since I conceded that in my hasty retreat, now Obi’s the meat.

Anyway, I don't deign to respond to such slander. I’d never give credence to such blatant violation of the narrative rule of show, don’t tell. I’m not strange, I'm acting exactly as one would expect me to under my circumstances. In fact, I'm doing better than I should! I’ve only had one anxiety attack, and everyone’s entitled to at least one of those when they’ve been mindnapped to another universe and inserted into another person’s body, possibly destroying their personality...

Fuck you universe, it’s you that’s strange. I am a rock. I am an i~i-island. Do do do doo do-do do.

Perhaps that’s not the best song to be taking literalist lessons from, seeing as I am literally isolated with very few social connections to vent my burgeoning trauma on. Ha! I am burdened with self-awareness.

Unfortunately self-awareness does not in fact immunize one from dealing with mental illness, but it sure does make you feel guilty for not being able to on your own. A cultural expectation of self-sufficiency and bootstrapping success does not lead one to feel comfortable reaching out either...

Boy, is this meal pleasant. There’s a mild, consistent breeze, a wonderful view on the inexplicably large campus and forest, and the bench is comfortable with fine acquaintances, too.

“So what music do y’all listen to?” Ordinarily I’d be ok with allowing a comfortable silence, however the longer that I’m stuck without having any outside input to direct my thoughts the more likely I am to think about myself. Self-reflection will lead to previous-like trains of thought and I dislike uncomfortable, or downright unpleasant silences. That is, me being silently uncomfortable.

Akane will feel the brunt of my dissatisfaction with the current state of affairs later. I can complain that I miss my family and she can yell at me. All around fun times!

“Haaaa…” Obi deliberated, “I don’t listen to music all on its own a lot.” Well, judging by your archetype, I'm going to guess that you listen to… anime OSTs. “Most of the music I listen to is in the games I play.” Ooh, close, but no cigar. No points for me, but you don’t get any subverted expectation points yourself. He looks over to Silver, who has moved into the Thinking Pose. I assume she’s thinking, with her hand on her chin; she could be accessing off site databanks.

“I enjoy to listen to various genres. I would say that my most frequent to listen to is bossa nova and its derivatives. I find it calming and play it in the background when I am alone.” What do you need to calm down for? Are you really still seething about is ducking purple? They’re linguistic concepts, they have no reason to avoid each other.

Or perhaps she’s just constantly seething with the rage of a thousand suns, all contained in a ‘kawaii’ exosuit, perpetually tipping on the edge of meltdown. Hehehehe. I take a bite of my slightly diminished volume of rice. The great thing about this rice is that it’s actually rather flavorful, it has a light sweetening to it, so it doesn’t need soy sauce or anything like that to flavor it.

Obi straightens up, and I see a spark of light catch on something over his head, “Wait, isn’t bossa nova what they use in elevators? You listen to elevator music?” Pfft. I narrowly avoid spitting out all my food, but I have to chuckle around it. Have you ever had to laugh with food in your mouth without spitting it out or it going down the wrong hole? Because I couldn’t breath for the next ten seconds until I could control myself enough to fucking swallow, Jesus Christ.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

It wasn’t even that funny! I mean sure, the image of elevator music just constantly playing in her head as she stares off into space is amusing, but that goes for anyone! But she actually listens to it! God damn it! I don’t know what kind of points to give!

“No.” She said, defensively, “That’s Muzak.” She turned her head away then crossed her arms. I’d bet that she’d be blushing right now if it wasn’t for her superb, fine-tuned physiological control systems.

“H- kha-ha” turns out I did get some rice stuck in my windpipe, “hey now, muzak’s just a term for any kind of background music. But if you can draw enjoyment from it, no judgement here.” I say while successfully holding back more chuckling. Damn my easy amusement.

"Why did you laugh, then?" She harrumphs flatly, still turned away.

"The image of elevator music constantly playing in your head is fucking hilarious, given your demeanor." Silver turned to stare at me for a minute or so afterwards, but I don't think she’s that upset. She has elevator music to calm her. “Though, that could be funny for anyone. My amusement was in no way associated with your taste.”

“Well what kind of music do you like? We’ve shared ours. I mostly listen to video game music, Shirohime-san likes elevator music, in case that went through your head. I can only imagine what's playing up there.” Obi turned to me. His mouth quirked into a smirk. Oh, my friend, you see, you think you asked that question for small talk, but you don't know that I come prepared, vastly more so than your jrpg rotted mind can comprehend. Prepare, otaku, for the listening list of an actual, fleshed out and unbalanced human being!

“Now that’s an interesting question.” I bring up my hands to count off the list, “Most of the music I listen to is in English… Well technically all of it that‘s in Japanese and English is, but if it’s originally in Japanese it just sounds bad since, you know, it’s translated to English, and that ends up in a purple duck scenario. However, things that aren’t in either are not English.” I assume, anyways. I sigh, “Anyways, I listen to various genres: marches, polka, various types of rock, like Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin and other classics, Saint Motel, who’s genre is ‘good...’ uh though those are harder to sing than the first two. Mostly what I look for in songs is a je ne sais quois of ‘funk,’ or a ‘sick beat.’ If I can bop my head to it, it’s my style.” That’s my usual spiel. Multiple branches of which I can expand upon. I like other things too, of course, but that starts getting into specifics and not generalities.

Though now that I put more thought into it… I don't know if those bands even exist. But Muzak exists, and that was a trademarked company. Maybe the dude before my neurological usurpation just had really poor impulse control, or fat fingers, and accidentally clicked on all those bootleg apps, so the bands actually exist and I'm not dooming myself to having to explain why I like a bunch of music that’s never been recorded.

Maybe I can say I trawl the music dark web. Though that might get me into more trouble. A web of lies based on inconvenient truths.

Oooh, philosophical.

Hopefully they got overwhelmed and decide not to look into any of them and assume my music tastes are well rounded and high quality. Though having multiple branches to expand off of isn’t particularly conducive to not having people ask more, unless you have so many choices that you get choice paralysis. Then you’d need to have way more processing power than a human actually has. Or be a Mass Effect protagonist.

“What kind of marching music do you enjoy listening to?” Silver baits me into lengthening my noose. Into further wedgieing my petard so to reach another rung. Into giving myself an expectation of a third, more absurd phrase that I am unable to fulfill. Damn my mediocre linguistic abilities, I know there’s another out there! And you just picked the first thing on the list, you sly dog! If your choice is always going to be the first thing I can't overwhelm you with my conversational branches!

“Uhh, Battle Hymn of the Republic, Marching Through Georgia, and, uhh, another one I can't remember the name of. It’s another civil war one, though.” I know the name’s somewhere in the lyrics, but I can't remember the lyrics right now, because I'm stuck on the Battle Hymn.

“What does the Battle Hymn of the Republic sound like? Can you sing it? You said you could do that.” Obi tag teams me! Don’t just take turns speaking to me and selecting the first thing in the dialogue tree! You’re literally trying to dialogue tree me! I am an npc! An N P C!

But, well, I'm already this far. I’ll just hum through the first verse, it’s not like the tune changes any throughout the song. Obi looks a bit disappointed, fuck you for whatever your sad about, you don’t get to be disappointed.

Silver gets her own spark of light to flash over her head, where the fuck is that coming from? Most of the anime things I've seen have been diegetic in some way, are they like some sort of spontaneous lens flares? Do I still have brain damage?

“Oh. That song makes sense for you to know, it’s ‘I Hate These Classes.’ It fits well with your character.” I blinked in response. I have no idea what that song is.

Obi lit up, “Oh yeah, it really does!

Damn having to carry that beggar bag around

And having to gather as the trumpets sound-”

“No, stop!” I cry in anguish, “I’ve already told you, the syllables won’t work! You need some sort of intermediary sound to pad out the sentence, otherwise the tune doesn’t line up correctly in English, and you can’t do that in Japanese! You hurt me!” The back of my hand flies to my forehead with despair, I’ve been beset by horrendous crimes against cadence and hung by bad syllabic structure. Oh! The torturous tribulations of temporal tyranny!

Obi has the gall to look smug, eyes half-lidded, and corner of his mouth smirked. Silver, who as always has no discernable body language, but I choose to believe looks haughty, adds in, “This is my purple duck revenge.” I glare at them with all of my Devic Fury.

Damn you, that’s a good line. Just the right mix of ridiculousness and applicability. I bet you even came up with it on the spot. Why can’t I be so spontaneously witty?

Fuck you anime, this is your fault. Upstaging me so soon after my triumph! I will have my revenge! Something even more ridiculous and applicable!

I huff with a grin and recompose myself, “Moving onwards, I’m going to expand my musical repertoire with a metal band I’ve been told about, Ironbunny, cause, well, metal bands are usually incomprehensible anyways. It’s not like people listen to them for the lyrics.” Not nearly as illegible as their album covers, not even a Rosetta stone could translate those.

“Who told you about it?” Silver responds quickly. Real quick with pressing A there, buddy.

“This girl I sat next to during the school orientation speech thing.” I relay, “We struck up a conversation before it got started, but she glared at me along with everyone else when I tried to carry it on during the speeches, like anyone actually cares about what school faculty have to say.” In all my, disturbingly lengthened, time as a teenager I have never, and will never, care about public announcements made by bureaucrats. Anything actually important or specifically pertaining to me will be told to me either through a missive of some kind, or in personal interaction.

The less said about inspirational speeches the worse. They are the best sort of fodder for examples of why dull people with monotonous workloads should never try to relate to cynical sardine-packed assholes. Never, in any sort of situation, has a person enjoyed and thought back fondly of their principal’s speech of any sort, unless they were publicly humiliated in some way. And I get horrible second hand embarrassment and tend not to have very strong feelings for people I don’t interact with except to wish them well. Especially in elementary school, bullies kept on getting me sent there, and she was never understanding, but I was a kid who hadn’t learned to explain his side of the story yet. So I never get to enjoy any sort of interactions with principals.

Damn my principles (not principals, it’s great how I still remember that way to spell it. ‘They’re your pal.’ I mock! Ok, maybe I'm a bit salty about elementary school.)

I seize the chance to use the next few moments of dialogue to snatch a few bites of food. There’s not a whole lot, so I should be finished soon. Fucking other countries and their healthy portion sizes, just be obese like the rest of us. Though I was never obese, so I guess I just want to fill my hollow leg.

“Bastard! How are you able to talk to girls so easily? Whenever I try they call me creepy and run away! Or I actually get to ask them out and they say ‘you’re grooooss’ and run away!” I quirk an eyebrow at him. Obi, do you really not have any intermediary between those two points? Also, are you sure you drink enough water to sustain tear rivers for that long? And third, really no comment on that school faculty line?And here I thought students in Japan had respect for authority. I swallow my food.

“Well, Yamakawa-”

“You know her name!?” I am... stunned... by that question, but luckily Silver’s here to pick up the slack.

“Obi-kun, do you ask girls out without knowing their name?” Silver asks in a flat drawl.

Obi draws in on himself defensively “N- no, I make sure to learn their names.” he stutters, then mutters “most of the time.”

I- I have no words…

“You’re groooooss” Silver deadly castigates him. Her eyes even flatter than usual, a blue atmosphere condensing around her, so as to physically manifest her disdain she cannot herself express but through words.

But those words will do. This goes beyond stereotypes. Universe, have you crafted this man to be this pathetic? Do you plot to so thoroughly to destroy his memory of himself in his twenties? If I had to deal with thoughts of myself being so completely and utterly, dare I say it? Cringe. The complete social failure I would see myself as, I'm surprised he’s even able to exist in any state other than catatonia, let alone speak.

This also puts his asking to come along on my date into a bit of perspective… his existence has been done dirty to have been made this socially incompetent a nerd, he didn’t seem that bad when interacting with Silver earlier. Then again I’ve not really been referring to her as a person in my head, even with my intellectual understanding such is the case, maybe she’s an exception for him.

Well, I didn't pay attention to their interaction with Elizabeth earlier... and he did ask for a contact with the lesbians before that. The jury’s still out I guess.

Obi clutches his chest as if dealt a physical blow, as if all the years of suppressed muscle spasms from probably suppressed memories caught up to him at once, and he deflated with another blue atmosphere popping up around him. Wait, the one around Silver dissipated, did it move? I inhale the last of my meal and set it down as he continues twitching, and consolingly place a hand on his shoulder.

“Obi. Women are people. Not knowing their names will never get you a girlfriend. Nor will just asking them out, especially if you’re only after them to get a girlfriend.”

“Well it worked for you!” He snapped, gnashing his teeth.

“Obi.” I spoke calm and low, to try and get through to him, “I already told you, she’s most likely lonely and deranged. You don’t want a lonely and deranged girlfriend. That is how you die from a slit throat and dumped in the local swine pit because you were friends with Silver over there and that took your attention away from her. Plus, she asked me out. We’re at an all girls school, you don’t have to worry about a lack of female interaction unless you thoroughly poison the well by, say, acting like a complete creep. And you haven’t done that yet have you? It’s only been two days.”

I know I was severely tempting fate, or the Narrative, or the Universe with that last question, but the stars aligned and he shook his head. But just to make sure, because I'm all about covering my bases, “And by that I mean you haven’t propositioned anyone about being in a relationship with you, yeah?” another quiet shake, and I release my calmly tense posture “Ok! Great, this is salvageable.”

Silver decided to chime in at this point, “This isn’t an all girls school. One hundred boys were enrolled to have an agreeable and safe integration.” I give her a look to shut up. I know that, but guys are still outnumbered ten to one, and I'm still patting this one’s back.

I swear to God, if the fucking reason I was isekai’d was so that I could play social rehab for a recovering incel and therapist for an autistic statue girl while fending off two yanderes. Is this better or worse than being the glue for a cuckquean club?

Sorry, autistic, very inexpressive girl.

“Yes, I understand the setting, but the only other male interaction I expect we’ll be getting is Steve and whoever his male friend is.” because the protagonist always has one male friend in his group, usually some sort of pervert. And he can’t have Obi, he’s my friend, and that sort of social environment wouldn’t be good for his rehabilitation.

Silver blinked, “His name is not Steve, it is-”

“Upupup,” I cut her off, “this is an agnotological insistence on my part. His name is Steve, and it will always be Steve. The less information I have conflicting with that belief, the better my mental state. Hush now.”

Silver gazed into the distance for a while, before pulling out her phone and quietly, slowly sounding out ‘a-gu-no-to-ro-u-ji-ka-ru’ under her breath while I turned my attention back to Obi.

How would this normally go in an anime if this information was revealed. It’d probably be played off as a joke… has my very presence here changed the inherent reaction of everyone? Well, the ‘gross’ seems on point, but would a regular anime seem concerned about this dude’s mental state? Nah, that’s all me, they’d leave him to flounder and get kicked out the girl’s locker room.

“Why didn’t you say agnotology?” Silver demanded, being completely unable to read the room. Or roof, as it is. I mean fuck, I’m bad at interaction, but I’m fucking lightyears ahead of her!

The worst thing about traveling at light speed is that you live in darkness. “Look, I think I said that, that you didn’t hear it right is not my problem right now. Or ever, ask that question to whatever’s translating for me.” I tell her with frustrated amusement. “I get that you’re very pedantic, and normally I'd play along, but not right now, please.” Fuck, all the problems are happening right now? During lunch? This time is sacred, can’t we just go back to joking, or inane discussion? How’d we get here from music? I’m feeling rather overwhelmed at this point. Why couldn’t I have been interrupted during math class?

“Hey, Obi?”

“Yeah?” He asked in a wearily dazed voice. Fuck, are complex emotions breaking him? Standard anime characters aren’t built to process such shame in the first episode, or at all in a comedy.

“Look, all you have to do is make friends with people, join a club that you’re interested in, the population here is like ten girls to one guy, there is someone here who'll be at least tentatively interested in you. Women are people too, and they’re looking for someone from a much smaller pool.”

Obi’s eyes lit up and he surged to his feet, the depressed miasma that had coalesced around his head, which while similar looking to the disgust one from earlier, had a strangely different… texture? I dunno. I don’t even know if the things I'm seeing even exist, but I'm pretty sure they’re diegetic for the most part.

Unless you’ve had your brain damaged, then they get more abstract, apparently. I’ve only seen the realization sparks in the sun, but I don't know what the hell they’ve been reflecting off of.

Obi has stars in his eyes, mostly figuratively, with his fist clenched in front of him, “You’re right! That is why I enrolled in this school! I cannot be discouraged by Shirohime’s disgust, or the disgust of any girl, for that matter! Confidence, manliness, scarcity! That is what will get me a girlfriend!”

Dude. “Don’t forget to treat them like a person.” And I'm fairly certain that disgust should discourage you. Like, literally designed as an emotion to cause avoidance, discouragement.

He points at me, “I will try that as well!” It’s really not that hard. At least you aren’t depressed anymore. Honestly that was an incredibly quick bounce back, I’m a bit bemused. Is this the payoff of the joke? I’m fairly certain that was genuine and I wasn't tricked into being an emotional counselor…

At least I sort of got through to him with the person thing. We’ll work on it.

God, I really am going to have to make these people well-adjusted. I don’t even think I’m well adjusted, I can’t be, I’m still going through my trauma, I'm just well versed in self distraction.

But, well, if self help people can be complete fuck ups personally, but still help people, I’ll be fine.

“Also, resource unavailability isn’t a very sustainable strategy for dating. Or, anything for that matter, I guess? Might I suggest quality over quantity?” I say sardonically.

“Quantity has a quality all its own!”

Stalin is rolling in his grave. “I’m... fairly certain that quote applies to large numbers.”

“You can not be multiple people, Obi-kun. He was telling you to improve yourself, and you do not intend to be a bad boyfriend to your partner. Do you?”

Obi scoffed and waved his hand, “Of course not. Any girl that gets me will be lucky to have me.” Oof. Stop. Please, while technically correct, that is not the right attitude. I can see where this is going, you’re digging your own hole, my dude.

“Is that so?” That there’s a dangerous question. “And what do you think makes them lucky?”

Obi shifts in place, “Ah, well. Etooo…” Having to think on even one good quality isn’t a good sign. Before all this I would say my hair, as it was my one point of vanity, but unfortunately I have been robbed of my wonderful and long awaited locks, and now am stuck with this fucking short thatch of shit. It doesn’t look bad, but goddammit I want my hair back!

“You aren’t going to subject your girlfriend to having a bad boyfriend are you? You aren’t going to ignore her when it’s their birthday or anniversary to go off with friends, or cancel plans, are you? You aren’t going to yell at her when she asks you to stop d- playing video games and spend time with her?” ah, this is getting a bit suspiciously specific. Definitely speaking from past experience.

There are multiple ways she could have had it, did she have a boyfriend in middle school? Maybe the Gal had something to do with it, though I have a feeling that that’s a different problem for her…

Obi’s brows furrow, “If my girlfriend wants me to stop playing video games, I don't want to be her boyfriend. She’s not going to stop me from doing the things I want to do and enjoy. I can spend time with her when I'm not playing.” I don’t think that’s quite the point she was making, dude…

“I don’t thin-”

“Will you ever stop? Or will you just say you will and make her feel guilty when she tries to hold you up to your promise?” Silver stop, this isn't the man who hurt you. He's a dumbass, but I don't think he's on par with whoever you’re projecting onto him. Not if I have anything to say about it at least. Only I am allowed to be a dumbass, because I judge myself by my intentions, not my actions!

Obi shifts a bit, looking less angry and more… offended I think. “Hey, Shirohime-san, I don’t think-”

“No, you d-”

Ding dong ding dong…

The school bell! Thank you, Universe! Your commitment to interrupting when things are about to get spicy so as to delay destructive character interaction has allowed me to interject!

“Alright, this is obviously contentious for you, Silver, but we need to table this discussion and come back to it later. Obi-” I point to him “kun, no getting a girlfriend until you’re not a dickhead.” my restriction was met with a ‘Hey!’ but I was already pointing at “Silver, uh, san, recognize Obi- kun is not responsible for domestic neglect and/or abuse until he actually gets into a relationship. No projection, we’re going to try and make him better.” another ‘Hey!’ from Obi, and crossed arms, then a head turn, then a huff from Silver and I clap my hands. “Alrighty, let’s get to class.”

I am under no illusions that this will keep the peace. This is obviously going to explode in my face somehow, like they just start arguing when I'm not there to enforce the armistice…

Nah, things never change in a friend group unless everyone is there to see it. There’s just going to be passive aggression until the next contention.

Hmmm, “So, Obi, how many people did you ask out without knowing their name?” a very important question, anything over two and we’re going to have to do some major work.

“Two” he reluctantly admitted. Ok, so I guess it could have been a spur of the moment or opportunity thing. I mean, maybe he got over-excited. I dunno. But, at least he isn’t a serial attempted playboy.

“Well, if you were really desperate and just saw the opportunity… I guess that makes… a sense.” Emphasis on the indefinite article there. I might be able to see where he’s coming from, but that doesn’t mean that it’s been a good road.

There’s a beat as Obi looks at me before tears start streaming from his eyes, and he grabs me! By the elbows! And starts shaking me! “Aaaaugh! Unhand me!” I shout as he starts blubbering

“You believe in me, you really believe in me!” I do nothing of the sort!

Silver, the sweet merciful angel, pries Obi off my shaken and mauled with a “Stop being gross.” holding him back from reattaching by the scruff of his neck as he strains against her stony grip, reaching for me like a soppy, emotionally damaged zombie.

As I recover I glare at the asshat, I have had it with my elbows being the universe’s butt monkey! “Listen fucker,” my voice in a furious pitch, pointing at him with all the bravado I can muster, “you grab me like that again, I’m turning those” I point to the suicide fences, Obi having been cowed enough to stop blubbering “into murder fences, ya hear me?” At his rapid nodding I curtly nod as well. Don’t look so pale, it’s not that much of a threat, all you have to do is not grab my fucking elbows. Not an imposition at all.

That was a kickass line, though.

I sigh, “alright, lets get back to class, I have to mentally prepare for a date.” Or, zone out for the rest of the school day and wing it when I get there, as it were. Or, well, will be. As i have done with all important engagements in my life. SATs, projects, papers. You name it, I have accepted the consequences of ignoring it. I graciously ignore the muttered ‘lucky bastard’ from my erstwhile companion.

I bet this isn’t even the worst it’ll get for me. It’s not like stories ever make things better.