I, along with my wonderful acquaintances, wandered off down from the roof into the hall-like bowels of the school building below us. Bowel-like halls? I don’t think either of those work, but we’re walking to our poorly coordinated classroom anyways.

"Aoki-san," I hum in response to Silver getting my attention, "how do you mentally prepare for a date?"

“Uh…” fuck, “I don't... know.” I trail off. Well, might as well tell the truth. “I’ll probably just zone out for the rest of the day, and then wing it when I get to… the library, if I remember correctly? I think that’s the clubroom for her spy ring.”

“Yeah, it was.” Obi helpfully confirms, “Do I really get to come with you?” He clasps his hands together, doing the begging with teary eyes thing.

I narrow my eyes at his eagerness suspiciously. “If you do come along, you can’t ask anybody for a date.”

He scoffs “Of course, you said they’re lesbians, I could never sully such perfect and wholesome fluffy fluffy.” fluffy fluffy? Ok dude. And I only think they’re lesbians according to context clues.

At least his priorities result in the correct outcome.

“And the first things that will come out of your mouth when you meet someone are going to be to introduce yourself and ask their name.”

He waves his hands in front of himself defensively. “I get it. You don’t have to drill it into me.”

“Well we don’t want there to be a third time.”

“Shut up, man!”

Hehehe.

When we arrived at our classroom I was a bit confused that there wasn’t any sort of teacher there waiting to start class. Or anybody for that matter.

Looking back at the hall, it has people in it, groups of them, all gathered around people with clipboards. Huh?

“Hiya!” I slightly startle as a voice comes from in front of me, but I can’t see anyone. “You’re Akio Aoki, yeah!?” Alriiight, I can’t see a person, but there’s movement in my peripherals, so when I look down, hey! A very small bright orange-haired girl. She’s uncomfortably close and looking basically straight up at me, I'm not all that tall am I? I mean, now that I think about it, a lot of people have been slightly shorter than me. Looking around confirms so. But not very tall.

Well what do you know I’m above average. But I'm not tall, she’s just short. But how didn’t I see her? Do I have a blind spot? I step away. And when I look forward I can barely see her.

Magic.

“Wow!” Obi exclaims, “You’re tiny! How do people not step on you?” That’s how my grandparents met.

Wait, Obi no! You don’t say that to short people in anime! Think of your shins! You don’t even know her name yet! What did I just tell you?

“Cause I step back! Like a lego!”

“People step on legos because they can not see them.” I choose to interpret that as dry wit instead of pedantry. “Because they are small.” Thank you, Silver. I’m sure she’ll break her foot on your shins instead.

Silver bends her elbow to point at Obi and pokes him, “Hey! What?” Then she points at the girl.

“Introduce.” She commands

“That doesn’t matter! He needs to answer my question!” She waves her pointing arm at me, bouncing in place, “You need to answer my question! You are Akio Aoki, yeah!?” I mean, I don't need to, but it would be needlessly impolite, I guess.

“That’s… what I’ve been told…” Though it still doesn’t really feel like my real name. I really like my real…

“Wonderrrful!” she cheers, somehow bouncing even harder. Is she trying to stay in my field of view or something? “That’s great! Could I ask you a couple of questions for joining a club!?” She sets pen to paper on her clipboard, practically vibrating in excitement. The exuberance she broadcasts is rather overwhelming.

Um, I'm not usually one to go for clubs, I only started joining them the last two years of high school cause… I’m not the most social a person, but I wanted to talk to people face to face. “I… wouldn’t be opposed, I-” I reply unsure, but she cuts me off.

“Wonderrrful! So what do you usually do for hobbies!? What’s your favorite food!? Where do you live!? Do you like cats or dogs!? Why do you like root beer!? What’s your favorite smell!?” She unleashes a cavalcade of questions after those that sorta blend together, and she doesn’t let me get a word in edgewise all the while writing things down on her clipboard.

A strange investigative strategy, and not one I appreciate, to be honest. Rather annoying, actually. And what does my favorite smell have to do with clubs?

“How do you feel about Nakamura-sensei!?” Who? Is that one of the teachers I don’t know?

Wait, stop. “What the fuck does any of this have to do with joining a club? I could get asking about hobbies, but you never let me actually answer!” I exclaim with confused frustration, “ And stop writing things down! Give me that!” ‘for joining a club,’ my ass, what sort of club needs to know up to and including my social security number? “How’d you write all this down!? ‘Likes strong-willed girls’!? Did you even ask that question?”

My favorite smell is the incense we burned in my house. It was a combination of two different kinds that I can't remember. My sister’s is gasoline. Maybe. I never actually asked her, but she liked gas stations. It’s not like she snorted the nozzles.

“Hey! Give that back, I need it!” She jumps for the clipboard, but I use my superior height to keep it out of reach, stretching my arm to its full upward extension! Ow. Need it for what, to join the unsubstantiated gossip club? “Noshitara won’t let me in unless I get a big scoop!” This is for you to join a club? What sort of disreputable rag would accept this useless drivel? “Stupid giant bastard!”

“I do not see how overwhelming an interviewee would get you into the journalism club.” Thank you, Silver. Your deadpan is the shovel to dig through this woman’s bullshit. “And everyone is giant compared to you.” Ouch, you really don’t let up on anyone.

“Screw you! I'll get my growth spurt!” She says, squeakily. “I drink plenty of milk even though it gives me the rumblies!” She continues jumping, trying to use me as a jungle gym to get to her recorded libel, but she fails, as I use my superior reach to hold her back by the forehead! Ow, my arm.

“You… really didn’t have to say that.” I chide her, reminded of that time I told my elementary teacher I got diarrhea; she was not nearly as excited about it as I was. Also, ironically she said about the same thing.

I bring the clipboard down slightly so I can read it better, and squint, reading through the answers more thoroughly, “Apparently I like french toast and chugging medicine. Where did you even get all this from?” I rip off the page and crumple it up to a devastated ‘nooooo!’ like I killed her puppy, or destroyed her sandwich or something. It’s not like I ripped it, I just put it in my pocket. “Look, leave us alone, and re-write all this without going through all the useless word-vomit, you’re already a disreputable gossipmonger with all this shit, doesn’t really matter.” Not like it’ll make my life unmanageable.

“But I need to interview you!” She brings out the most teary and pitiful puppy eyes this side of the Mississippi. Or. Fuck what are the rivers in Japan?

This side of the Pacific.

“Tough shit.” But! Unlike most people, I am unaffected by facial features, only cold, hard logic, and kitties. Not dogs, no matter what she wrote down.

Don’t get me wrong, they’re cute. I like them, but they require a different sort of attention and I don’t know how to read them.

“You weren’t really interviewing him anyway, and we were already doing things before you showed up. Now that I think about it, we should make a club, Aki-.” Silver poked him again, “Agh! What? Stop it.”

“Introduce.” She commands yet again. Implacably prodding his side.

“She was talking to Aoki-san, not me. Gah, stop.” He slapped at her hand. It didn’t move an inch. “ And she already knew his name, agh, if anything she should be introducing. Argh! Stop, it tickles!” He points to the empty space where the small girl was. “Where’d she go?” I look around and shrug as I lower the clipboard from its vantage point. I look at it and shrug again. Guess I have a clipboard now? Sweet, I can write things standing up.

“I did not see. Be careful, she said she is ‘like a lego,’ you might step on her.” she poked him again, to another cry.

I pivot an about-face, “So Obi-kun what was that you said about a club?”

Rapid small tapping dopplers from behind me and my arm is pulled down, the clipboard snatched from my hand, “Gah, ow! fuck!” “Ha! I got it, you big dumb meanie-head!” And more rapid tapping dopplering away. Why is everything after my arms?

I look off into the distant hall as a small dust cloud weaves through the crowded hall. Wait, aren’t the floors super clean? I pat my pocket to make sure I still have the notes. I do. Then squat down to look at the floor.

“She is fast and nimble.” Silver observes.

“Like a mouse.” Obi adds.

“Arriba arriba, andale andale.” I absentmindedly append, wiping a finger on the floor from her path, and rubbing it. Ok, it feels like dust, at least, so there’s like, thermodynamics, or something.

“”What?”” I look to them, Silver with her head tilted, phantom question marks floating above her head, Obi with blank eyes.

“What?” I question them back, “Never watched Looney Tunes?” I get slight shakes of the head. “There’s a speedy mouse named Speedy Gonzales. He… says that.” Quick, change the subject!

“Back to before mouse girl! What was that about a club?”

Obi poses consideringly, “Well I mean, everybody’s doing all this recruiting,” he gestures to the surrounding hall, “but you only need three people to form a club, you even get a small stipend, all we need to do is think of an activity that a club isn’t doing already. And a teacher willing to sponsor it.”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

They pay kids to be in a club? Or, they pay the club to have kids in them? Damn, that’s some incentive. What do anime people do in clubs, sit and fuck around? Hijinks and such?

“Do you know what clubs there are and what you want to do? Or any teachers willing to sponsor us?” I ask. I don’t know anything about the bureaucracy behind making a club, or any of the teachers. Nor do I really want to. You’re the one who’s going to have to lead us in this, Obi. Godspeed.

Obi opens his mouth to answer, then pauses, “No.”

“Welp, that’s a bust.” A shame, that.

“We could join the English language club, or make one if there is not one already.”

“Excuse me you three,” We turn to another girl with a clipboard held half in front of her face and a soft voice, she has glasses and a double braid. “My name is Jiro Hinami, pleased to meet you. Would you perhaps be interested in joining the Calligraphy Club headed by Ina-sensei?” Calligraphy? I mean, I write in English in cursive, but it gets turned into Japanese through unknown methods, perhaps this could be an avenue of research of some sort? Might be helpful in discovering a bit of what the hell’s going on.

Though perhaps an anime research club would be more helpful in that regard. We could set up a counterpart to the lesbian spy ring Romance Research Club. The Weeb Ninja Dojo. Hehehe.

“Aoki-san could do with better handwriting. He writes like a toddler.” Hey now, Silver, that’s just mean. It really isn’t my fault.

“Yeah, I noticed that, think it has something to do with his ‘English thing’? I can see how it’d be harder to learn if that’s all you heard.”

“W-well, if you have trouble with English, w-we can teach you how to write that too! There’s art in all kinds of writing!” Hinami says,hopeful eyes peeking out.

“I think I write just fine, i-”

“No, you do not. We should join this club, so you at least know what you are doing wrong.” Silver flatly insisted.

I squint at her, “fine.” It was inevitable I was going to join a club anyway, if it wasn’t this I would’ve been press ganged or blackmailed into one. Probably by the Stuco Prez into where I can be kept an eye on.

Though, the Romance Research Club might’ve been a good place to, well, research tropes, seeing as they have all those books. On the other hand, I don’t know if they have manga or other anime books.

Hinami for her part is turned around fist pumping and hoping up and down. What’s with her?

She turns around, “This is great, let me take you to Ina-sensei to get signed up! I’m so happy that we’ll have members, I was the only one interested after the third years left!” She enthuses softly.

Oh, is this one of those clubs? Is this the plot, or just a plot hook?

We’re taken to the office area of the building not far away from the classrooms, there’s an open area with multiple desks without even any dividing walls, and up to a middle-aged woman with short black hair. “I-Ina-sensei, I found members!” There are a couple of other teachers doing paperwork around, but the room isn’t very full.

She turns around with a loud, “Really!? Already!?” then spins, snatching up some papers and turning back to us in a split second. She looks at us with burning passion in her eyes, “Which class are you in?”

“E-7.” Silver answers.

“Great, I'll be teaching you tomorrow! Now, here’s your first test.” She hands us the sign up sheets with gravity, “Write your names on the line, to learn the art of expression on paper!” I don’t think this is nearly the right of passage you’re treating this as, ma’am.

We walk over to an empty table and I take out a pencil from my pocket and write down my name, Akio Aoki.

“You wrote your name wrong.” Silver tells me quietly. Did I? It sounds so similar it’s hard for me to tell.

“Hmm?”

Obi looks over, “Yeah, other way around.”

I squint at it, in Japan the last name comes first. I know that, but why…

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, “I said my name wrong. God damnit.” How am I going to get my root beer now, if it’s going to my opposite twin. Why am I cursed with such a confusing name!? I ruined my dramatic exit twice over! I’m such a dumbass!

Wait, and the mouse girl did too! My dumbass is spreading! Panic!

I quickly erase and rewrite it the right way ‘round, Aoki, Akio. Then I hand it to Ms. Ina who takes it, then her eye starts twitching, “What is this?” Her hands crushing the sides of the form.

That doesn’t look good for me, I judiciously retreat a few steps. Never be in arms length of an angry girl, my sister, the one in this universe, taught me that.

“Uhh, Ina-sensei, his friends say he writes, um, not great, and, um, thought that this club would be good for him to… learn?”

“Not great? This… this is a travesty, an insult to the very art this club is! What is this stroke order, this slovenly scrawl! Kanji don’t connect like this!” She waves the form in the poor nervous girl’s face “What do you call this?” She switched to me, “What do you call this?” she yelled, pointing at my name, which I still saw in latin script.

“Uhhh,” come on brain, “Uhh.” give me something witty, “A signature?” that’s obtuse, not witty you fuckwit.

Fire sparked in her eyes, and I absconded myself to the door. “Uuryaaaa!” She screamed as she ripped up the paper into tiny pieces of confetti, “Out! Out you disgraceful cockroach! I’ll cut your hands off so you can never write again!” I was already leaving! I do have a sense of self-preservation, thank you very much. It’s coming to be an unexpectedly well developed skill.

“Aoki-san, wait for me!” Obi shouts as I skedaddle through the doorway

“Obi! Cover my retreat, your handwriting’s fine! I’m running for my life!” woopwoopwoop woop woop woop.

“You better be!” We made haste down the crowded hall and around the corner before stopping to catch our breath, Silver catching up a slight bit later, having not run.

“Well, that was a bust. Dear God.” Ok, maybe she wouldn't have killed me, but that sort of anger is not the kind you stay in the same room as.

“I was not expecting that bad a reaction. I wonder what is going to happen tomorrow in our class.” Oh god we have her for tomorrow? Fuck, I’m gonna be lynched! My precious uncalloused hands!

“The world conspires to kill me.” I lament. “I get knocked out for a day, I have a headache, my arms are killing me, I accidently grab a cabal’s attention, and now there’s a woman out for my hands. What did I do to deserve this?”

“Well you write like you’re a doctor, for one.”

“You do not even have a medical license. Perhaps that would have gone better if you did.”

“I don’t think that Ino-sensei would care either way, she seemed furious just seeing it, if anything she’d be more furious if he was a professional.”

“That is a good point, Obi-kun.”

“Well we should still try to join a club or something, speaking of, you guys could’ve stayed, couldn’t you?” I mean really, after all this high-energy action we need some time no-plot, low-risk gags.

Like god damn, I'm already risking mutilation by coming to school tomorrow! From a teacher no less, I don't even have a dedicated tsundere around to punch me in the face!

Obi clenches his fist righteously, “Of course not! I’d never abandon my ticket to seeing real life lesbians!” Ah, great. Obi, you are excellent at making sure my expectations are never too high. You could’ve still joined that club and come along.

“Just, go to a pride parade or something, dude.”

“What? No! There are fujoushis there.” Whats?

“That is understandable.” Silver, I don’t even know what that means, but if you agree, I guess. I’m not going to announce my ignorance.

“Oook. leaving that aside, what about you Silver-san?”

“I do not believe I would get along with the teacher.” She stared at me perfectly still, unemoting. I can’t help but remember her raging outburst earlier today.

I stared right back, “Fair enough, I guess.”

“I still think that we should make or join an English club, even more now that we have failed to join one.” Yeah… I can't help but feel that that wouldn’t be incredible for my continued health either.

“I mean, we shouldn’t give up after only one attempt right? I mean, we ran into the one teacher that went apoplectic over my (perfectly fine) handwriting, there are plenty of people here, like, you!” I point, ow, at a green haired girl whose group just cleared up. “What club are you recruiting for?”

“Oh!” She perks up happily, “Softball, headed by Nanjo-sensei, you want to join? We-”

“”No.”” Silver and I interrupt synchronously. Presumably agreeing that we’d die thirty minutes into whatever hell training she puts her team through. We both looked at Obi, who had pained consideration on his face.

“No. Sorry.”

Her bright smile broke, the sound of cracking glass sounding from somewhere, “a-are you sure, we’re the best in the province.” I start looking around behind us, through the window there’s a girl glaring at another as she sweeps up glass bits. I narrow my eyes, how convenient. One more piece of evidence the anime shit’s diegetic.

Then what was with the anime shit from after I fell down?

Am I brain damaged? I know that being knocked out for more than a couple of minutes if you hit your head is bad, but the nurse wasn’t worried, and this is an anime universe.

““Yes.””

“Quite certain.” Oop, there went our synchronicity. Maybe I am brain damaged.

But no, the more anime-y thing went away within a day, the only way to confirm is if I get dangerous head trauma again.

Fuck you anime, making me question my god damn sanity. I’m not brain damaged, you’re brain damaged. Obi too, for even considering it.

“Aoki-san, you ok?” Obi asks me. I look at him and squint. Horny bastard.

“Did you hear the glass breaking when we broke her smile?”

He gives me a skeptical look, “Yeah, so what? It was an accident.” So they do. I turn my gaze to Silver in silent askance.

“Yes. I was not worried, it sounded far away. I would not have to clean it up.” Your apathy is commendable but slightly annoying. “Otherwise, that was two failures.”

“That doesn’t count, we weren’t going to join any club with Nanjo-sensei in it anyways.” I refute her with a wave of my hand.

“Yeah, she may be hot, but I'd rather look far away and sitting down, like you did.” Really? I am unamused. “How did you get those bruises anyway?”

“A girl ran into me yesterday, I fell wrong, on my elbows, so it hurts every time I move them. I also hit my head and have a headache, can’t remember if I told you that before.” Obi pulls in a breath through his teeth with an ‘ouch.’

“That sounds like it hurts, I am sorry.” It’s not like I could keep them perfectly still like you could, statue girl.

“They’ll hurt no matter what I do, so I deal and try not to do too much with them.” I glare at Obi, “It helps if nobody touches them.”

He puts his hand up defensively, “Sorry sorry, you just gave me so much hope for humanity. That a riajuu like you could bring himself to help me is a miracle.”

“A what?” That sounded vaguely insulting, but I don't know what that word means, not like hentai or baka, so what gives?

Obi has the temerity to look a little abashed, “You know, like someone who has a life and is good at social stuff and isn’t an otaku. And hey! You were calling me an otaku earlier!” he rounded to pointing at me.

I crossed my arms reflexively, ow. “Only in my head, and I stopped once I learned your name, not my fault you look like you were typecast by the universe.” I’ll give him that I’ve shown some social competence that would look like experience to such a socially stunted fifteen year old, but otherwise that is a vague and rather encompassing definition that could apply to anyone that ‘isn’t an otaku.’ Thus I reject it. “I reject your assertion that I have a life either, didn’t I tell you that I know all of six people by name?”

“We did meet the girl from calligraphy club who introduced.” That’s a… strange construction.

“Thank you Silver-san. And what’s her name?”

“You do not know?” I can't tell if that’s a question or not. But it doesn’t matter if it is.

“Exactly.” Silver blinked quickly with intervals of exactly half a second in between. Bemusement, I presume. Hehehe.

“Well, you got asked out on a date!” Obi yelled.

“By accident. I was trying to avoid being shanghai’d onto the student council.”

“How does that end up with you on a date with the student council president!? How!?” all things considered your incredulity is not unwarranted, it was rather contrived

“Needless dramatics, and a really good line. If we’re being fair she didn’t realize she was doing it either.” Perhaps things could’ve turned out differently if I didn’t tell her that she asked me out.

No. None of this is my fault, it’s anime that’s caused all my problems. If it weren’t for plot convenience my sister would’ve killed me on my doorstep like a real yandere.

“That doesn’t make it better!”

“I know.” I lapse into a beat of silence, “You know I could just snub her and go home.”

“Don’t you dare. You said I get to come along, I want to see those lesbians.” Really is that the only reason you’re sticking around, no sense of comradery or urge to defend my honor, just a joke that’s taken on a life of its own?

“You… I’m sorry to burst your bubble, dude, but that was a joke that I was making about the ‘Romance Research Club’s’ apparent goal of reading books to learn things for their future husbands. It’s very funny to me.” His deflation and the depressed cloud that manifested over him was expected. I wave my hand, ow, over his head to see if I could dissipate it and it swirled around my hand, but kept its general location. “If it makes you feel any better I am convinced that it is a spy ring.”

“I do not like your obsession with lesbians, Obi-kun. It is unhealthy to lust after something you can not have.” This is true; her admonishment causes Obi to bounce back defensively.

“No, it is not for lust I do this, it is conviction, for you see the wholesome fluffy-fluffy that is yuri is something to strive for, to yearn for. To see it in it’s flesh is the height of human ambition!” I cut off his bombast.

“Dude, you’re yelling this in a crowded hallway.” not, like, very crowded, there’s still a walkway through and the groups of people are separated enough to not hear each other if you aren’t loud, but they’re still in earshot. Just busy with themselves, you know. He at least has the good sense to be embarrassed as the slow filling of his face to pink would suggest. So that’s how blushing works, is it?

He leans in closer to us, “My conviction will not be denied.” He stage whispers.

“Your conviction is gross and hentai.” I despise my existence.

“Shut up robot, what do you know!?” Ok, from what little I know of Silver, she’s easily angered by purple ducks and inconsistent grammar, and holds grudges easily. It’s obviously that last one that applies in this situation.

Silver levels her gaze harder at him. “I also dislike your willingness to be stupid, and self-absorbed.” She has a bit of a point there. Though I don't like assigning character traits to people, I always have a bit of a hard time picking out character traits. Actions are easier to define a person…

He did go on a bit of a tirade there, that takes a bit of ego.

“Well, you’re stupid and an ice queen, you’re always trying to be a downer! ‘I don’t like this’ ‘that sounds stupid’ ‘I don’t think blah blah blah.’ you’re always correcting people.” I don’t like how he’s using always there. We’ve only known each other for a little bit of time. These essentializations are founded on a rather small pool of evidence.

“You are a beast who can not control himself.” It’d be like… what’s the letter? R-score? N-score? I should’ve paid more attention in ap stats.

“Can’t control myself, that’s rich, I saw you steal his rice!” I mean, stealing food isn’t really a sign of indiscipline… just hunger.

And I mean, “And how do you-” “Wait, no it went to the African children.”

They both stopped arguing, ““Eh?”” They both synchronously questioned. For such contentious people they sure do act alike. Mien aside, of course.

“What? Nothing wrong with hungry people eating. I wasn’t all that hungry, and that it went to those poor darlings so far away really gives me hope for humanity. Bless their hearts.” Hehehe.

“How would the rice get to Africa?”

I smile wryly, “I don’t know Silver, san, you tell me.” Oop, almost faux pas’d there. She blinked at me again. Error does not compute. Amusing.

“Aoki-kun, she ate it.”

“Bah,” I scoff, “famish the thought.” They both flinched when I said that.

“Should not it be ‘perish the thought?’”

I gasped, aghast! “But then it wouldn’t be punny!” They flinched again. They flinch to puns, now the question is, is it because of the Translation, or because my puns are physically painful.

There is always, of course, that it’s both. But determining that would be experimentation, and hypothesis, and double-blind tests, and other work. I don’t want to do that right now. Or even in this week, or month… or year.

I want to go home.