FIVE YEARS LATER

“Hey, you’ve seen what's going on in the courtyard ?”

The three boys looked up from the Pokémon cards they were trading.In front of them, dripping with sweat, stood Kajima Kazuki from Sixth B. His face was flushed, as if he'd just run up three flights of stairs.

“There are elevators, you know", laughed the blond as he saw the sweat rings on his polo shirt.

Panting, Kajima delivered his message as best he could :

“It's him, he's done it again”

His duty done, Kajima grabbed his Ventolin and put his lips to it. He looked like a pig with his swollen face and his noisy exhalations.

The dark-haired kid smiled, amused to see him so distraught over something that had become the norm at their school.

“So? It happens, like, every month”

It was a bit of a surprise at first, but everyone soon got used to it. Although the fights were entertaining and fun to watch if you were close to the epicenter, it was always a one-sided massacre that didn't require you to go out of your way to find out the outcome.

“Every week", the third boy corrected while picking his nose.

The blond snatched the cards out of his hands.

“Don't touch mine with your filthy fingers”

Kajima took another shot of Ventoline.

He said:

“It's your brother, Kozu”

The blond boy turned pale.

He dropped his cards.

They scattered on the floor.

“My...? My...?”

The redhead wiped his dirty fingers on the cuff of his golf pants, then grabbed the blond by the shoulders.

“Hey, wake up, buddy.We can't leave your brother alone”

Kozu stuttured.

“But... but my brother just turned fourteen”

The redhead and the brunette exchanged glances. Usually, he stuck to kids his own age and almost never fought older boys. If his brother was as big as he was, and he was being bullied by a ten-year-old to boot…

They tried to cheer him up.

“That means he has a better chance to win. And with the three of us, we can definitely beat him”

Kozu muttered uncertainly

“You think so ?”

Not at all, but what else could they tell him?

They'd go by the teachers' lounge and bring them outside with them. It would be humiliating for Kozu's brother to be rescued from a kid, but it would be less humiliating than being beaten by that said kid.

“Here we go !”

The redhead grabbed his wrist and forced him to follow. The three boys ran down the stairs and crossed the downstairs hallway as fast as arrows.

One of the teachers opened the door, coffee in hand.

“Hey, where do you think you are ? No running in the halls !”

Kajima, late and out of breath like an boar, didn't see her and ran into her. The scalding coffee spilled onto her blouse and pumps. She hopped from one foot to the other, hissing a series of curses.

Kajima kept running, half turning to yell at her.

“Sorry mam, but it's Todoroki ! He's done it again !”

“What ?Again ?”

Kajima had already opened the exit doors to the outside.

The teacher returned to the room and called her colleague.

“Hiroto, call Todoroki's tutor, he's acting up again”

The young professor, half buried in a pile of papers, looked up at the woman with downcast eyes.

“Again ?”

The others, behind him, exchanged a few bills and giggled.

“Told you he wouldn't stop”

The woman rolled her eyes as she watched them.

She pulled out the American football helmet that the teachers had kept on hand since the day Todoroki broke the nose of the gym teacher who tried to stop him from disemboweling another boy. There had been so much blood that they'd had to repaint the gym floor.

“Yeah, again. And those idiots who let me do all the work...”

*

“Strike! Strike ! Strike ! Strike !”

I heard the door to the teachers' lounge swing open, and then three different pairs of shoes crossed the hallway. The strange way one of them moved made me stop.

Shit, they took old Takajiima with them.

The teenager's cheek was swollen and his eye puffy, as if he had grown a second forehead.

My fist landed on his face without much force, and his lip split open. His head bobbed up and down as if he had a spring for a neck.

I felt the crowd of boys open up as the shoes came closer. Two muscular arms passed under my armpits before the palms of their owners landed on the back of my skull, preventing me from moving.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“That's enough Todoroki !”

Takajima forced me to retreat with him.

I pretended to fight, more for the sake of appearances than out of any real conviction.

Himari, with her ridiculous wire-mesh helmet on her head, ran over to the teenager who was still lying on the ground.

“You broke his nose !”

A nose already more crooked than the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

I had just performed a public service. Where were my thanks ?

“Shin !”

A little shit barely taller than me ran to the teenager. He was sobbing as if I'd murdered him.

“Relax, he's not dead” I smiled. “Or at least not yet”

The floodgates opened and the blond boy turned into a living fountain. Takajima dragged me further, forcing me to turn my back on the Comedia Del Arte.

So dramatic.

Some of the boys were having fun miming the fight, the first one telegraphing a right hook and the second one slipping behind the other before hitting him (without any real force) in the back of the knee, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the ground.

Another group of teenagers chanted my name and threw dandelions torn from the path at Takajima. One of the flowers landed in his mouth and he promptly spat it out, a piece of petal covered of saliva landing on the horrified face of another child.

“To-doroki ! To-doroki ! To-doroki !”

This kind of contained cruelty was what I liked and hated most about this boys' only school.

None of them hated me, even those I had sent to the infirmary several times. They enjoyed the shows and had fun with them, making bets to guess who would be next to suffer my wrath.

It was just a game to them, the highlight of the week. They never thought about why they were applauding me and just giggled like hyenas.

But I wasn't surprised: if there was one thing I knew, it was that there is nothing more cruel than a child.

Takajima took me behind the classroom building and let me go, pushing me a little harder than necessary.

I staggered a little to satisfy him.

“Have you calmed down ?”

He looks really angry this time.

“It wasn’t too bad”

So bad that I thought I would die of boredom.

“I was able to test the last move I learned”

I did an arm roll and then a right hook.

“Apparently you can knock someone out if you hit them in the right place. I wasn't very successful this time, so maybe next-”

“Don't lie to me”

I straightened up, my smile melting like snow in the sun. That old fart had a bullshit'ometer that allowed him to determine the rate of bullshit per minute. He'd had his eye on me since the day I breathed too hard next to him.

“You weren't like this before”

I rolled my eyes.

The comeback of the cheap psychology.

“I've always fought”

“You usually manage to keep it in gym class”

“I didn't like his face”

Especially his crooked nose. So ugly.

“Shoto”

My muscles tensed.I gave him a sideway glance.

“Don't use my first name”

“What happened ?”

I clicked my tongue and looked away.

“I'm not talking about little Kami going to the hospital. I'm talking about you and the week you missed school, supposedly because you were sick”

The smell of burnt pork rose to my nose.

“I was sick”

He sighed.

“Shoto...”

It was his teaching voice, the soft, condescending one.

I stared at the sky, indifferent to the outside world.

“You're planning to enter the next MMA tournament, aren't you ? If you keep this up...”

I muted him.It was halfway through his spiech that he noticed. New sigh.

“Why am I even bothering ?”

That's what I'm wondering

*

“.. fifth time this month ! All parents complain!”

Satisfied, I closed my notebook.

It's time for math and history. I'll do Italian in the car.

It was the original who would be happy.

“I'm well aware of that, Mrs. Ushioda, and believe me, I'm doing everything in my power to...”

“Then do more !”

I closed my eyes and focused on the old woman's breathing.

The old woman has a heart murmur and-oh, my.

That smell was unusual.

Old Takajima is screwing a married woman ?

I had half a dozen plans of action in my head.

Which one would be the most entertaining?

“If this goes on, I'll pull my sons out of this school !”

The big wounded boy (the one whose love life I had saved by redoing his face) whimpered:

“Mom !”

On the left, the secretary turned on the coffee maker. The roar of the machine, coupled with the creaking chairs in the principal's office, masked the conversation somewhat.

“Not mean. He must have had his reasons”

Clothes rustling.

“What would justify a broken nose, I'm listening !”

The coffee maker reaches its peak.

“...talk... close...Hero... ...End...”

“...just... this... nothing... justifies...”

I looked up to my left.

Kenzei was standing there, smiling, his black felt hat in his hands.

His gray hair was slicked back immaculately, as always. Crow's feet were visible at the corners of his squinted eyes, and a million wrinkles crisscrossed his skin like the horny pages of a book that had been read over and over again.

He looked friendly and harmless, like any doting grandpa would.

Exactly why he was perfect.

“Kenzei”

He pretended to be startled.

“Ah, Shoto, there you are. I didn't see you”

He greeted the secretary and then sat down on my right, between the front door and me, leaning exaggeratedly on his stick.

Once seated, he stifled a sigh of relief.

“Let me guess: because he asked for it ?”

“Hmm”

The office door flew open.

A blonde fury wearing a pearl necklace crossed the hallway, dragging her half-battered son behind her. His eyes met mine and he gave me the peace sign.

The principal watched them go and shook her head in disappointment.

Her eyes fell on us.

“I suppose... (she glanced at her secretary) that he couldn't make it ?”

“Sorry about it”, said Kenzei

She sighed.

“Sign the hospital check and go home”

No sermon ? Here's one who can't wait to bang Takaji.

My mind conjured up an image of their two elderly bodies wrapped around each other like snakes.

I put two fingers over my mouth to keep myself from throwing up.

Kenzei tucked his fountain pen and the family checkbook into the inside pocket of his black trench coat.

“Let's go home”

*

Author's note :

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