CHAPTER 7
900 Words
Yamada was already halfway across the courtyard when he tripped over his own feet, barely staying upright as he scrambled toward the faculty lounge. He looked like a man who had just escaped a death sentence.
Takiro watched him go, then turned to Akira with a look of pure mischief. He shoved his hands into his pockets and started whistling a low, annoying tune.
"So, Mr. Genius," Takiro said, leaning in close. "You really going to wear a suit and tie? Maybe get one of those little propeller hats for your big nerd debut?"
Akira didn't answer. He just kept walking toward the lockers, but his jaw was tight. He could already feel the headache forming. He knew Takiro wouldn't let this go for at least a month.
"I can see it now," Takiro continued, skipping a step to stay in Akira’s line of sight. "The announcer says your name, the lights go up, and you just stare at them until the buzzer breaks from fear.
You won't even need to answer. You'll just intimidate the questions into being right."
"One more word, Kozuki, and I'll rip your mouth open" Akira muttered, his voice low.
"Oh, come on! Think of the possibilities! We can get you some thick glasses. I'll even carry your books and call you 'Sir' in front of the girls. It'll be hilarious."
They reached the heavy double doors of the main building. Just as Akira reached for the handle, he stopped. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the bulletin board in the hallway.
There, right in the center, was a freshly pinned flyer for the Regional Quiz Bee. But someone had already made a move.
Across the bottom of the flyer, written in jagged, angry red marker, were the words: A MONSTER IN A SUIT IS STILL A MONSTER. WE KNOW WHAT YOU DID.
Akira felt the temperature in the hallway drop. Beside him, Takiro’s grin vanished instantly. His playful energy turned into something sharp and dangerous.
"Looks like someone at this school has a death wish," Takiro whispered, his voice devoid of any humor.
Akira didn't rip the paper down. He just stared at the red ink, a small, dark smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. The school wanted him to be their hero, but it seemed like the ghosts of his past weren't going to let him play pretend that easily.
The first period bell rang, but neither of them moved. The hallway was starting to fill with students, and as they passed the flyer, the whispers began. The air, which had felt a little lighter yesterday after they walked out, was thick with tension again.
"You want me to find out who did it?"
Takiro asked. He was already scanning the faces of the students walking by, his eyes landing on a group of honors students who quickly looked away.
"No," Akira said, finally pushing the door open. "Let them talk. It makes it more interesting when I win."
Throughout the morning, the teasing didn't stop, but it changed. Takiro spent every passing period leaning against Akira’s desk, loudly "quizzing" him on ridiculous things just to get a reaction.
"Okay, Professor," Takiro announced during the break, loud enough for the whole class to hear. "If a bully gets punched in the face at forty miles per hour, how many teeth do they lose? Is it A, all of them, or B, enough to make them cry for their mom?"
A few students in the back row snickered, but most of them looked terrified. Miyu, sitting a few rows over, watched them with a worried expression. She wanted to say something, but the vibe in the room was too volatile.
Akira didn't even look up from his notebook. "The answer is C. You shut your mouth before I test the theory on you."
Takiro barked out a laugh and sat on top of the desk. "See? Total genius. He’s got the logic down and everything."
But despite the jokes, Takiro was keeping a close watch on the door. He noticed the way the "model students" were congregating in the corners, casting dirty looks toward Akira. They didn't like that a delinquent was taking the spot they had worked years for. They didn't like that the school’s salvation rested on a guy who broke ribs for a living.
As the final bell for lunch rang, a tall student with perfectly combed hair and a sharp uniform stood up. It was the Class Rep, the guy whose face Akira had laughed at the day before. He didn't look scared today. He looked insulted.
He walked up to Akira’s desk, ignoring Takiro entirely.
"The faculty might think you’re our best shot, Hayase," the Rep said, his voice trembling slightly but held firm by pride.
"But some of us think it’s a disgrace. You don't represent Seiryo. You’re just a thug they’re bribing with grades. Don't be surprised if the tournament doesn't go as smoothly as you think it will."
Takiro started to slide off the desk, his knuckles whitening, ready to punch him.
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