Chapter 7: Iroha, Ozu, Sumire, and I All Have It In for Mashiro

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“Everybody ready? To the release of the new characters and routes!”

“To the release!” we roared as the sound of clinking glasses filled the air.

It was Friday night. There were four of us, male and female, celebrating in the living room of my three-bedroom apartment.

The six-person round table I bought for just this sort of occasion was laden with food and drinks. Homemade roast beef, the pizza we ordered, a pricey Shimane sake, twenty-year-old whiskey, and bottles of cola and oolong tea. It was a feast fit for a king.

There was even a cake in the fridge made by a top patissier at a bakery run by one of Sumire-sensei’s friends. That patissier had studied in France.

We held a party like this every single week. This was our “Somehow, We Survived This Exhausting Week, So Let’s Use The Opportunity To Reset And Get Ready To Survive Another One” party. Yes, that was this event’s official name.

Sumire swallowed down her luxurious concoction of cola and whiskey before letting out a satisfied sigh.

“This stuff sure tastes better once your deadlines are over!”

“I seriously thought you weren’t gonna make it this time,” I sighed.

Those bags under her eyes were the result of her staying up all night just to get those darned illustrations finished. Side note: I was only really mean to her when she was lagging behind. At times like this, I had to remember that she was my teacher.

“You stink of alcohol!” Iroha giggled at her. “How many did you have before you came here?”

“Why would I remember somethin’ like that? I mean, d’you remember how much you’ve had in your life, Iroha-chan?”

“Drinking’s a big no-no for me, remember?! I’m not old like you!”

“I’m not old, either! Not even thirty, I’ll have you know!”

“Okie-dokie, if you say so! If you really were that old, I wouldn’t tease you ’bout it though, ’kay? So when I stop is when you should get scared! Anyway, would you like somethin’ else to drink?”

“Vodka on the rocks!” Sumire handed her empty glass to Iroha, who began to fill it up neatly.

Seeing how polite she could be with her elders, it was even more obvious how impolitely she behaved towards me.

“This beef’s good! Did you make this, Aki?” Ozu asked.

“Yeah, I found a lifehack online on how to prepare one with a rice cooker.”

“You’re good around the house, huh? Y’know, this is even better than what you’d get in a restaurant.”

“C’mon, quit actin’ like you know anything about cooking. Think of those poor souls who work for years, only for you to say that my hack job is better.”

Ozu and I munched on the food as we watched Iroha and Sumire chatting. I couldn’t believe he was impressed by the cheap cut of beef I picked up at the store. He really was good at praising you for the smallest of things.

“’Sgood, though. Makes me jealous of Iroha, too. Once you two get married, she’ll get to eat like this every day!”

“You can keep her. I’d probably die of stress by thirty if I had to live with her.”

“Shame. I was hoping to set her up with someone with a billion talents like you. Take away my worries, y’know.”

“I’ve already said that I’m really not as impressive as you. Any other programmer would’ve struggled to get the release ready in time.”

“Especially with the art coming in right at the last minute. Luckily I got that program set up so that Kageishi-sensei’s computer sends over the art the moment the coloring’s done. By the time I’m putting it into the game, she’s already fast asleep from exhaustion.”

“I’m sorry, how exactly does that program work?”

“Oh, y’know. I just thought it’d be useful, so I bungled something together.”

“I guess I shouldn’t’ve asked...”

There were some things that were just beyond the scope of understanding for us mere mortals.

Ozu could read and write his programming languages as though he was born speaking it. He had always been incredibly good at numbers and calculations, though. He was our elementary school’s top mathlete in the Mathematical Olympiad, and the mathematician who gave a running commentary on the whole event told me that Ozu was easily in the world’s top ten.

“Honestly, my skills aren’t that impressive,” Ozu continued.

“Don’t be so modest. I don’t know anyone who comes close to your level of programming.”

“Sure, but it doesn’t matter what skills you have if you don’t know how to use them properly. You were the one who set me on this path, and you’re the reason I’m having such a good time right now,andthe reason I’m drinking this ginger ale here, which is pretty decent. That’s why you’re more impressive to me.”

“Don’t start diggin’ up the past now...”

“You’re just embarrassed, ain’tcha?” Ozu laughed, gulping down the rest of his slightly-better-than-average ginger ale.

I didn’t want to think too hard about Ozu’s past, and I certainly didn’t want to dig into it now, of all times. It was simply the tale of a big fish being confined to the small pond that was our national education system, and suffering because of it.

“By the way, where’s Makigai-sensei?” Ozu asked suddenly.

I quickly opened up my phone, found Makigai Namako’s account with its chibi sea cucumber profile picture (incidentally, ‘Namako’ also meant ‘Sea Cucumber’), and showed Ozu the messages.

“He’s got some novel deadline coming up, so said he couldn’t make it.”

I was 05th Floor Alliance’s director. Ozu was the programmer and Sumire was the artist, but there was also one more member who played a huge role in the development of our game. Someone so influential, that it was nothing short of a miracle that he decided to join our team when no one had even heard of us, and we didn’t have the advertising budget to change that.

Makigai Namako.

A light novel author whose work won first prize in a UZA Bunko competition three years ago. That work then went on to become a series which sold over three million copies, launching Makigai’s career with a spectacular debut.

There was something about the sarcastic wit in his writing, and his strangely specific knowledge about sea creatures. What impressed most people was his engrossing and innovative style, as well as how he developed his main characters. Even though his series was wildly popular, he still refused again and again to have it adapted into a manga or anime series.

Somehow we managed to get the contact details for this modern-day Shakespeare, and could now converse with this mysterious author online. I was also a fan of his, having become completely hooked on his unique characters and stories.

I squeezed in my contact details and the request for him to write our scenarios in the corner of some fan mail I sent, figuring it couldn’t hurt. I did what I could to make it inconspicuous so that his editors wouldn’t stop it, and then, by some miracle, I got a response.

Now he was in the 05th Floor Alliance group chat, and we spoke with him as casually as anybody else. Though I’d never met him, judging by his voice on call he sounded like a friendly guy in his twenties.

“He’s never used a deadline as an excuse to miss out on a party,” Ozu commented.

“Hey, you’re right. He’s always typing up a storm whenever he joins us.”

This was probably a good time to mention that he joined these parties virtually, via voice chat.

“Maybe it’s just an excuse. D’you reckon his girlfriend’s over or somethin’?”

“I feel like he’d prioritize the party over her... But whatever. Guess the ways of adults are incomprehensible to us kids.”

“You guys talkin’ shit about me?!” Sumire slurred. “Want me t’have a meltdown right here, right now?!”

She must’ve tuned in when she heard the word “adult.” Not that I personally thought she had any right using that word to describe herself.

“No, we’re talking about Makigai-sensei. H-Hey, stay away from me! We’ve been here like, two seconds! How much have you had?!”

“I’m having an awesome time right now! C’mon, Akiteru-sama, it’s time for you to take care of me now! I feel all flushed...”

“Y’know if I reported this you’d get fired, right? H-Hey, quit it! Iroha! What the hell did you give her?!”

“Nothin’,” Iroha replied with a shrug. “She just swiped the bottle off me. Probably had somethin’ like ten shots of vodka.”

“You gotta be kiddin’ me. You could drink Rasputin under the table with that!”

“Chill! She watered down the second half with this stuff.” Iroha shook a bottle of clear liquid out in front of me.

Well, if she watered it down, I guess that’s... That’s not water, is it?

“Isn’t that sake?!”

“Waah, everything’s twirling around me! Akiteru-sama, you look like a young boy! A beautiful shota...”

“Please, keep your hallucinations to yourself.”

“Aaah! A tsundere shota! I can’t take it!” Sumire began to push her flushed face against my body like an intoxicated cat.

You may wonder why a teenage boy like myself wasn’t the least bit pleased about his hot teacher nuzzling so seductively against him. The answer was simple. The stink of the alcohol covered up any whiff of pheromones I might have gotten.

It was common to hear stories of men taking advantage of women in a state like this, but I never understood that. Who’d wanna lay a finger on someone who’s completely wasted?

Sure, her skin was soft, and so was her chest, but apart from that, I wasn’t feeling it at all.

“Aah, you’re so cute! But there’s somethin’ missin’, y’know? Oooh! Look! There’s another shota over there!”

“M-Me?” Ozu stared at her blankly. No surprise. I’d never heard of a shota who attended public high school, either.

“Yeah! You have light hair, and you’re so gentle! Just like a little prince! C’mere...”

“Uh... okay, I guess.”

“No, Ozu! Stay back! You’ll—”

Sumire-sensei tugged on Ozu’s arm, and I found my face buried in his chest.

“Yes, perfect! Now we have the super cold shota, Akiteru-sama, comforted by the princely Ozuma-kun!”

There was the sound of clicking and heavy breathing as Sumire shuffled back and took photos of the jumbled mess that was our two bodies squished together.

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“Ozuaki!” Iroha cried in joy. “Damn, you sure know how to pick a good ship, Sumire-chan-sensei!”

“’Sgood, right? I can’t take it! Aaah! I need another drink!”

The girls giggled with each other.

This was why Sumire wasn’t a fun drunk to be around. This wasn’t the first time she claimed we were “shotas.” It wasn’t the first time she had managed to get me and Ozu into an outrageous pose for her delusional enjoyment, either.

We told her again and again that there was nothing between us and that it was annoying beyond belief, but the moment she had some alcohol in her system, her ship set sail once more. The drink stripped away the thin paint of her exterior to show her true colors. In her heart, she shipped us hardcore, and would like it even better if we were kids.

I guess everyone was entitled to their own fantasies. But when your teacher was getting turned on by you with another classmate, it was more than a little concerning.

“Sorry, Ozu. They’re always like this.” I sat up straight again, shuffling away from Ozu.

“I-I know. Don’t worry about it.”

“Nothin’ fazes you, huh? You’re allowed to get mad, y’know.”

“I get that, but I don’t think she means anythin’ by it, really.” Ozu shrugged, his cheeks slightly reddened. By the lighting in the room, of course.

“What the hell?! Get back on top of him! Gimme some more of that prepubescent yaoi!C’mon!”

“How about you snap back to reality before the police snap some cuffs on you, huh?”

Sumire squealed like a strangled frog and fell to the floor as I gave her a chop to the neck for good measure. She got up almost immediately, looking around the room in confusion.

“Wh-Where am I?”

“In the middle of committing grievous sexual harassment against your students.”

“What? My3Dstudents? Ew, no way,” she said sleepily.

“Wish I could blank out my memory as easily as you.” I didn’t want to bother with her any further, and cleared my throat loudly.

“Okay, guys, I have an announcement to make. A serious one,” I said.

The room fell into silence, the party atmosphere swept away by a cold tension. Even Iroha shut up. She could be serious when she wanted to, just like the other members here. Working hard and playing hard was part of 05th Floor Alliance’s motto. I swept my gaze over the faces in the room and began.

“I wanted to talk about the new resident, Tsukinomori Mashiro.”

I launched straight into an explanation of everything that had happened up until now. About the deal I had with her dad, the whole fake-boyfriend thing, how she hated me, and how she now lived in the apartment next door and was likely looking for a fresh start.

More than anything, I explained how she didn’t seem to be having fun at school, and how I wanted to fix that.

“I want her to join our group. Maybe I’m meddling, and maybe she doesn’t even want to, but I just know there’s a reason her dad asked me to look out for her, and I think this might be it, so... Will you guys help me?”

Silence. Nobody was looking at me. Instead, they had their heads down, as though deep in thought. The wall clock ticked by, made louder by the silence. One, two, three, four, five...

“Pfft!” I don’t think I need to tell you, but that was Iroha. “Y’know, you’re always sayin’ how you only care about efficiency and yourself and stuff, but you still look out for other people like this!”

“Yeah, it’s just like you to come up with somethin’ like this,” Ozu agreed. “Kind, but firm. It’s hard to keep up with sometimes, actually. I guess you’re proof that even tin men can have a heart sometimes.”

“I like it. Mashiro-chan needs somewhere she can be herself. I’m sure that’s what she wants, too,” Sumire said.

“So, what’s the plan, Senpai?”

“I wanna throw her a welcome party.”

“Like this one?” asked Ozu.

“Yup. We’ll invite her to one of these, and corrupt her with our cringey conversations.”

“D’you think she’ll come, though?” Iroha said.

“No, which is why I have a plan. And I need your help with it.”

“Ooh, that sounds super fun! Let’s do it! Give us the briefing, boss! The deets! The down-low!”

“Now listen closely...”

The walls were thick enough that we weren’t at risk of being overheard, but I lowered my voice just in case, explaining the plan to them. I knew it was a nonsense plan, and it had no chance of succeeding... if we weren’t the ones carrying it out, that was. The others didn’t comment on its absurdity. They were clearly thinking the same thing as me.

“Omgosh! That sounds super fun!” Iroha exclaimed.

“I dunno, dude, that might be a lot for me to pull off, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“There’ll be a reward in this for me, right?” Sumire asked.

I ignored her.

“So it’s settled. Next Friday, eight o’clock. Don’t be late.” We looked at each other and nodded. “We’ll show her just how much we have it in for her!”

All together, the 05th Floor Alliance let out an ominous cheer.

Time to invite Mashiro to our Friday evening party.

Saturday. Six days before the party.

I rang the doorbell.

No response.

I rang twice more.

No response.

I rang again and again and again and again and again and again and again and aga—

“S-Stop it. What do you think you’re doing so early on a Saturday?” The castle door finally opened, revealing a drowsy, pajama-clad, bed-headed Princess Mashiro.

“Wanna come over to my place next Friday for a party?” I gave her my sweetest smile.

“Go away!”

Sunday. Five days before the party.

Click.

“Huh?”

Click, click, click.

“The bell’s not workin’. Weird.”

Click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click.

Again and again I rang the bell, but ring the bell did not. Neither did it summon its master.

No way she unplugged it...

How dare she learn from experience? If I couldn’t get her to answer the door, there was no way I could invite her to the party.

I decided to leave it for the day.

Just kidding.

Instead, I took the thirty posters I printed about the party and stuffed them all through her mail slot.

Monday. Four days before the party.

“Can I talk to you?”

I scribbled on a page of my notebook, scrunched it up, and tossed it at Mashiro at her desk next to mine. I watched her pout as she read it before turning her attention back to the blackboard.

After a second, she seemed to change her mind. Writing down something on the note, she tore it off and sent it flying back in my direction with an aim that didn’t seem to care whether it hit me in the face or not.

“What was with all those posters yesterday? Are you trying to harass me?”

“If you’d read them, you’d know I was trying to invite you to a party.”

“Stuffing trash through my mail slot isn’t exactly inviting, and... never mind. Just leave me alone.”

“By the way, what’s your LIME ID? It’d be easier if I could text you instead of having to write notes.”

“No. Bye.”

Well, I tried.

It looked like forced kidnapping was going to be the only way to get Snow White out of her impregnable fortress. I wasn’t about to worry, though. I still had time to make this work.

Tuesday. Three days before the party.

“So anyway, about Fri—”

“Don’t talk to me in the classroom.”

Wednesday. Two days before the party.

“So anyway, about Fri—”

“Don’t talk to me in the hallways. Also, stop stalking me.”

Thursday. One day before the party.

“So anyway, about Fri—uh, tomorrow, I guess...”

No reaction.

“I’m holdin’ a little welcome party for you. We’ll order some pizza, get some drinks... Sumire-sensei will be the only one with alcohol, of course. Since you’re my neighbor and all, I was thinkin’ we could try and get along, y’know?”

“Listen...”

A response! Finally, after all these years! (Well, days.)

“This is probably the worst place you could’ve chosen to pick up a girl.”

Ugh. Is it so wrong to try and pick up girls in front of a bathroom? I hoped that if I caught her when her need was highest, she’d let down her guard and accidentally say yes.

The area was steadily getting busier, and more and more people were starting to witness me trying to stop this girl going into the bathroom. I could feel their suspicious gazes on the back of my neck. It was only a matter of time before someone’d run and get a teacher.

I turned on my heel and suavely walked away. Everyone fell for it, probably.

In the end, though I tried again and again to invite Mashiro, nothing I did managed to pull her away from her commitment to solitude.