Chapter 3

I arrive home a bit tired, but in overall high spirits. For the first time in a long time, I’m not worrying about how to get people to like me, instead I’m worrying about how to run a club. What activities will we do? How should I be acting as president? Is it ok to eat inside the clubroom? Those kinds of worries.

Being the president of a club is a bit daunting, but I feel the rewards will be well worth it. I mean, I get a whole room to do whatever I want and with three cuties? I’m excited for the future.

Wait, that came out wrong. I’m not a pervert! The things I’m talking about here are completely normal and wholesome high schooler activities!

“I’m home!”

“Welcome home.”

Mother greets me at the door with an apron and a smile, taking my measure with her light green eyes. Her long shiny blonde hair seems more shiny and less long than usual.

She must have gone to the hair salon.

The blonde hair, the green eyes, and my white skin are all things I've inherited from her, giving me my foreign look.

“Did you get your hair done today mom?”

“Yeah, you noticed? What do you think?”

“It’s lovely. You look even more radiant than usual. Though, dad’s not going to like it.”

Dad’s a big fan of women with long hair. As a matter of fact, so am I. Though dad’s a bit more passionate about it than I am. Last time mom got her haircut he cried about it for a week. This time the cut was more of a trim, so he’ll probably cry for a few days instead of the full week.

“He’ll be fine, it’s just a trim-”

Mom lights up as she says this, not expecting such glowing praise from her son.

“-but what’s with you and the compliments? Did something good happen?”

“Why? I don’t give you compliments without something good happening?”

“Not to this extent, no.”

Sad, but true. I mean I love my mom, but what kind of teenage boy goes around complimenting their mother all the time? Sorry mom, but your son is a teenage boy just like the rest of them. I’m grateful for you giving birth to me and taking care of me, but I can’t just go around outwardly showing my appreciation everyday…that’d be cringe. Save it for mother’s days, birthdays, and Christmas.

Mom leaves me at the entryway as I take my shoes off.

“Well, I meant it and yes something good did happen!”

We move our conversation from the entryway to the kitchen. I sit down at the table while mom resumes making dinner. It’s some kind of soup based dish with extra spice? It’s always hard to tell exactly what mom is making by its look, but it almost always turns out tasty in the end, so we don’t question it. “Never judge a book by its cover” is in full effect here, at least three out of four times.

“Oh, did you win a fight with someone at school?”

“Mom, why do I need to have won a fight to be happy? Do you take me for some kind of bloodthirsty delinquent?”

I say this knowing full well that it was only some months ago that I broke a middle schooler's leg in three places. I didn’t know who he was at the time, I just knew I needed to teach him a lesson he’d never forget. Why? I don’t remember, but I do remember thoroughly enjoying myself through the entire process. It turns out he was an up and coming track star. He was going places and now he was never going to race again. When I discovered this, it made me very happy…..at the time! I feel awful about it now, I swear!

“No comment.”

“Geez. I don’t do that stuff anymore mom. I’m a new man, remember?”

“Then pray tell what has put my son in such a chipper mood?”

“I made a club!”

“A club? With just you?”

Mom always says such hurtful things so casually, but I know she’s not intending to hurt my feelings. When she says these things, it’s not some calculated jab to put me down or get under my skin, it’s more in the vein of childlike brutal honesty. She’s a grown woman who’s had a child of her own, but in some ways she’s still a child herself.

“Not just me. There’s three other members, and they’re all cute girls too.”

“How did you manage that!?!? You didn’t threaten them did you?”

“Come on mom…..”

“Don’t you need an advisor?”

“We have one. It’s Homura nee-san.”

“Boss!?!? How is she? How’s she look? Did she talk about me?”

Mom always gets excited when talking about Homura-nee.

Both mom and Homura-nee have known each other since their teens, where my mother was a subordinate in Homura-nee’s all female biker gang. They’ve been in many scrapes together, where supposedly Homura-nee has saved my mother’s life countless times. Later on, it was Her who brought my parents together and who also gave them a place to stay when my mother was pregnant with me. Now she is my teacher and mentor, setting me on the path to positive change.

Homura-nee aka Tomura-sensei aka “Boss” is a god like being in this household. If she was dead she’d have an entire room dedicated to her shrine. In that scenario it’d probably be my room that would be used(and I wouldn’t have any qualms about it). I’m glad she’s still alive, for many reasons.

“She hasn’t mentioned you, she seems fine, but she did seem a bit worn out earlier....”

Probably due to the backlash she was getting for helping me with my club. Sorry and thank you sensei. I’ll make sure your efforts are not in vain.

“OH MY GOD IS SHE SICK!?!? What if she’s alone? WHAT IF SHE NEEDS ME!?!?! I gotta go help her!”

“Mom please calm down. I’m sure she’s just tired since it’s the start of the school year. Also, you're still cooking and that’s not safe.”

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Mom, noticing that she’s still holding the knife she was using to dice the meat, calms down and places it on the counter. The nearby pot with the mystery concoction starts to boil over.

“Shit!”

She runs over and grabs a wooden spoon, placing it over the open pot. The rising foam touches the coated spoon and recedes. Crisis averted. With the dilemma resolved, she resumes cooking. Meanwhile, I turn my focus to the pile of unfinished homework assignments I’ve placed on the table. It’s staggering. I stare at it, hoping it’ll diminish.

“So, three cuties huh?”

“Huh?”

“Your club, you’ve got three cute girls all to yourself.”

“Oh yeah, I guess I do.”

“Do you have your eyes on anyone in particular? Or are you going the harem route?”

“Fuck no! I refuse to take the harem route!”

“Watch your language mister!”

There’s nothing I despise more in dating sims, manga, and anime than harem routes and harem endings. It’s half assed, weak, noncommittal bullshit. I know harem is in the genre tag, but choosing everyone isn’t choosing anyone at all. And If it ends without someone being chosen then what was even the point to begin with? Are you trying to keep from alienating a part of the fanbase? “Oh no my waifu didn’t get chosen!!!” Just be a man and make a choice creators, fanbase be damned!

“Sorry mom, but no, I don’t have my eye on anyone and I’m not building a harem.”

That’s not to say I’m against making one of them my girlfriend(fingers crossed), it’s just not a priority. The club comes first. Besides, getting a girlfriend when I don’t even have a normal friend is like trying to do a savage difficulty raid when you can’t even defeat it on normal. We might be getting a little ahead of ourselves here. But, a girlfriend would be nice….

“Right now I just want the club to work out and for us all to get along.”

“Well I’m sure…..well….good luck.”

“Thanks mom...”

“Food’s ready.”

Mom sets two bowls of chow on the table. One for her and one for me.

What about dad?

“When’s dad getting home?”

“Not till late. He’s got overtime again.”

Again? I haven’t seen him ever since school started.

“Geez, it feels like we never get to see him these days.”

“Yeah it sucks, but he’s doing very important work that nobody else can do.”

“And what exactly does he do again?”

What dad does for a living has never been fully explained to me. Whenever I’ve asked him he either dodges the question or responds in an overly cryptic way. Mom’s no help either. She is as clueless as I am on the matter.

“Maybe he’s a spy?” Is something I often pondered as a child. So secret yet so important, made sense to me. I thought this till one fateful day when someone stole my precious pudding. I interrogated both my parents. Mom held to her story, but dad cracked almost immediately. They were both in on it, but dad ratted out mom for a lighter sentence. “A spy doesn’t crack under pressure.” is what I thought that day, and the thoughts of my father being a spy were over. Nowadays I don't know what to think.

Maybe he’s an escort or a stripper?

“I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s very important. Now eat up before it gets cold.”

I dip my spoon into the edible liquid enigma knowing there’s a seventy five percent chance of scrumptiousness. I slurp the murky fluid into my mouth. A clump of stringy damp meat touches my tongue. I chew into its unique texture, savoring its distinctive flavoring. It’s good.

“It’s divine. Thank you mom.”

“You’re welcome.”

***

As homeroom ends, my classmates sit, head bowed, waiting, and uncharacteristically timid. Why? An aura of social and economical superiority is being emitted from the back of the classroom. There she is, sitting in the seat directly in front of me. It’s the one and only Lisa Auclair. She just transferred herself to my homeroom this morning(homeroom happens before our first class and after our last class). Her reason?

“So we can walk to the clubroom together. It’s absolutely positively vital.”

Oh, Sakura-chan’s here too by the way, even though she’s a second year(actually they’re both second years….). This is also due to the almighty influence of Auclair-san. She’s sitting in the seat in front of Suzuki-san. First Tomura-sensei forced her into our club and now Auclair-san’s forced her into our class. Is this bullying? I can’t help but feel sorry for her.

“Shall we?”

Auclair-san nimbly rises from her seat and walks toward the door. Mid-stride she grabs a squirming Sakura-chan by the collar of her robe (yes she’s still wearing that robe) and drags her along.

“Nooooooooooo”

This is definitely bullying.

“Is the dragging necessary?”

Surprising myself, I take on a mildly hostile tone, dropping the usual chipper cadence.

What’s got me so peeved? Oh look I’ve startled Suzuki-san.

Hearing the slight hostility in my voice, Suzuki-san goes into what I’ve dubbed her turtle mode. As a turtle takes shelter within the safety of its shell, so too does Suzuki-san take shelter within the safety of her compact mirror.

Acknowledging my question, Auclair-san’s dragging takes a brief pause in front of the door’s opening. Now she’s peeved too.

“Yes, I’ve deemed it necessary, as is my right.”

“What right is that?”

The right of the powerful and wealthy?

“My right as sovereign. I have been given jurisdiction over her.”

Are the rumors about her father buying out the entire school true after all? If not then who could give such a mandate regarding what should be a free person of Japan? Maybe she’s not free? Could she be some kind of modern day slave? I thought slavery was abolished. Though if it was a certain someone it may not be out of the question….

“May I ask by whose decree?”

“Tomura-sensei. Look. In accordance with this contract, she is now under the strict governance of the great moi.”

Auclair-san unfurls a lengthy scroll that reaches the floor. The contents of the scroll contains extensive incomprehensible legal jargon. At the bottom is Sensei’s authentic signature. I know because I’ve asked for her autograph more than once, and on all three occasions she reluctantly obliged.

The contract’s legit.

So it was Sensei afterall, huh. What exactly is going on between Sensei and Sakura-chan? Ignoring the early days where supposedly Sensei hated me, Sensei has always been such a patient and kind person. A bit rough maybe, but definitely someone with others best interest at heart. I can’t imagine her forcing someone out of malice. If Sakura-chan is indeed in some kind of contract hell with her then it’s probably in her best interest despite how it may seem on the surface. Is it wise to give authority over to Auclair-san though(won’t she use Sakura-chan as some sort of stool)? Then again, who am I to question Sensei….She’s never been wrong before.

“Everything seems….in order.”

Auclair-san rolls the contract back up and holds it out daintily to her side. On her face is a look of impatience. Her gaze directed at the window by my seat. There at the window is one of her manservants. It’s the one who escorted her down the red carpet on opening day. I’ve yet to hear his name. He swiftly enters the room through the second story window(how?) and leaps to his mistresses side, snatching the contract. Just as swiftly, he exits, slipping out the window and downward out of sight.

Suzuki-san, who's been pretending to apply makeup, quickens her pace. Her dabs become frantic. I worry she might hurt herself. I’m somehow able to allocate some of my brain power to worrying about her in such a wacky situation.

“Don’t worry. With great power comes great responsibility. I promise that I will not abuse the authority that has been bestowed upon me. Now, no more dilly dallying.”

She’s got Spiderman for a butler and now she’s quoting Uncle Ben…..how very….extravagant. Was the power of money always so absurd? She did come to school in a helicopter before. It appears I’m in league with yet another individual that defies the logic of reality(if we’re counting sensei). If Sakura-chan’s fortunes are real that’d be logic defier number three. At this rate what kind of powers will Suzuki-san possess? This….could be a lot more fun than I thought. My ability to adapt is truly amazing.

The tiny ember of hostility is extinguished by a flood of overwhelming absurdity. We now ride the current to the clubroom.

***