The moment my hand reached the classroom door, my body winced back at the shrill shriek that escaped the room.
Someone was yelling out, angrily. It was a familiar fear. The space known as the classroom could, at times, turn terribly cruel. All sorts of ill intent could easily and completely change the everyday life one had lived to that day. In a sense, it was an actual other world brought forth by the human heart.
Open the door, and I'd be involved. I wanted to run. I seriously considered waiting here for the teacher, waiting for him to tell me, "Satou, what are you standing around there for?" As far as I could see, it was the best decision.
But strange—
The ominous sensation permeated through the door. This wasn't any normal bullying. It wasn't just some fight. With angry roars overlapping with one another, I couldn't make anything out. While there was no mistake things were stormy inside, I couldn't imagine what I'd see. Enter, and I couldn't play dumb anymore. There was no mistake, this had to be trouble tied to the dream soldiers. I should ignore it. Waiting for the teacher was correct.
When I was sure my mind thought so, as if my heart and body were acting separately, they took the opposite action. The door slid open. For a moment, I wondered if it was some sort of automatic door, but what opened it was my own hand. What a shocking betrayal.
A large harmonious aura became a squall to blow over me.
The emotional discharge was definitely there. Students of class 1-A were split right down the middle into two camps, facing one another across an invisible wall. Barely anyone was sitting. A number of desks had been knocked over, chairs lining the floor as well. The one furthest on the outside looked at me. It was Kawai.
"Kawai, what's this?"
"… Don't ask me."
Only the ruins of a lost friendly relation escaped his mouth. I wasn't going to get down over it this late in the game. I tried measuring the situation with my own power.
Ryouko stood at the center of the dispute. While those around her raised a ruckus, she alone gazed into space, detached from it all. When I saw that her costume was a little disheveled, some unknown emotion inflated within me. Her hair was frayed. Her prided staff had been broken in two.
As if to sandwich her, the dream soldier brigade and the commonfolk faced one another.
"And I'm telling you you're creepy! Try saying something that isn't nonsense!"
The shrill voice belonged to Ooshima Yumina. She was half-snapped in a way unimaginable from her usual calm and egotistical state. There was Yamamoto to her side, his anger also bared, "Think you're hot stuff? Lookin' down on me? Takin' us for fools?" or so he repeated.
Of the bystander camp, those two were the only ones raising their voice. Takahashi was in the center as well, but he kept to himself with a sullen face.
The dream soldiers had gathered on the opposite shore.
As you're aware, they held not the power to stand against the common man. They stood up in silence, their eyes alone wandering about. What a bizarre scene. The only one standing by Ryouko's side was the eyepatched swordswoman Oda. It was hard to say she was sticking up for her. Even as she took a harsh attitude with me as she played the stern warrior character, as with the others, she lacked the communication ability to keep any normal person company. With tears in her eyes, she cathed her being in the jeers of Ooshima's flock. From time to time,
"Nay," "We art not at fault," "It is you who," but each time she tried to say something, the corners of Ooshima's eyes would lift up.
"I'm telling you to talk normally. Nay, art, stop screwing around, seriously!"
So that's it. The details aside, I was starting to see a faint picture of how it got to this.
"Satou-kun!" With a pale face, Kobato-san came over.
"It blew up."
"What started it?"
"At first, Yuumin cautioned her that she should wear her uniform, but Satou-san ignored her. When she laid a hand on her staff, Satou-san really hated it, and…"
The staff currently contained the dragon terminal. Even if I was the one who did it, Ryouko would have shown an excessive reaction.
"And Ooshima got in a bad mood?"
"Yeah. And then, from not wearing a uniform, it went to not being able to talk properly, and she kept on prodding and prodding at that sort of thing… until it wasn't just to Satou-san, it was to everyone… eventually, Odsan stepped between them, and then Yamamoto-kun suddenly snapped and…"
I'm sure it was just some trivial teasing.
Just by knowing their own status, a noble will talk down to a majority of people. Those who don't submit become a target of criticism for that alone. Not only that, when it came to Ryouko and the others' attitudes, there was no higher tier of arrogance. Trouble was inevitable, a natural reprise. At the very least, had I been there, "And take that silly blindfold off," Ooshima said with her pressure at full throttle.
"… I mustn't."
"Why not? You can see fine, right?"
"… This is… a… seal…"
"Aah? What? Are you saying that because you're an idiot? Or is it because you think I'm an idiot?"
Oda lost her words, she could only hand her head.
"Oy, Oda, look at me. Why are you averting your eyes, wench? You were ordered to remove your blindfold."
Yamamoto pursued the matter. That pressure must have been hard on a girl. As she hung her head, silent droplets fell from the corner of her eye. Of course, from beneath the blindfold as well.
"Don't ignore me!"
"Take it off!"
"… Remove it."
Yamamoto's voice went low and cold. Once you raise a fist too high, you reach a point where you would have to lower it somewhere. The same went for a fist full of emotion. Would Yamamoto hit even a woman? And if he could, and then what?
I was presumably the leader of the dream soldier brigade. It was an unwilling station Dorisen stuck me in. A job far harsher than class representative. I dealt with Ryouko who wasn't even my friend. I'd offered up more than enough of my free time.
That's why, I had absolutely no obligation to help anyone, and jumping out in front of an angry Yamamoto was none too appealing. Even if I completely ignored it, I was in a position where that was forgivable. I mean, from the start, I hated people like them too.
"How about you calm down, both of you?"
Kobato-san left my side, letting out a scratchy voice.
"… Kobato, you've got nothing to do with this. Stay out. I'm not satisfied yet."
"But…"
"You can't follow along with your friends, Koba? Aki's staying back, right? Everyone who's not got a complaint is keeping away. Can't you see that?"
"Well away," Imawano Aki frivolously raised her hand. Rather, she was the only one sitting in her seat. Kobato-san struggled to find the right words. Ooshima gently rephrased herself.
"This isn't bullying or anything. They're not wearing their uniforms, so I courteously issued a warning. And these two are the only ones who aren't reflecting on their behavior. Koba, there's no need for you to get in a tizzy. Go over to Aki. You can sit in my seat."
It looks like Ooshima doted on Kobato-san quite a bit. She amicably gave her detailed instructions, causing her to lower her shoulders with no room left to refute. Ooshima tossed her voice over to the opposite side.
"For now, all of you, everyone who's breaking school regulation, everyone who's brought in illegal stuff, get rid of it all. Don't you think it's unfair that you're the only ones who can do whatever you want?"
The warriors kept silent. Hey, fight.
"First, Oda, let's start with you. Take off that eyepatch."
Oda remained frozen. What happened to the Oda Style Demon Lord of the Sixth Heaven Blade?
"… Odsan, I think you're better off doing what she says."
Determining he wouldn't be able to look good to all side, Takahashi started taking Yamamoto's side.
"I'll get rid of that for you," Yamamoto grabbed Oda's ponytail and pulled up her face. Upon seeing her teary expression, he laughed. "What are you crying for? This is stupid."
His hand touched the eyepatch. Oda let loose an ear-piercing scream.
"Stop that at once, Yamamoto-kun!" Finally, a single dream soldier stood. It was Kinoshita of the white cloth.
"It's unbecoming for a man to use brute force on a woman! You needn't let it bother you, by our prediction, the cause of this quarrel spans dimensions to—"
Around the dimensional spanning part, my spine froze over. That's why. That's why I just couldn't sympathize. While I hated Ooshima, her request was just. The ones at fault were the cosplayers. I wasn't some shrewd lawyer who could make the impossible possible. More so, I was the opposite. A dream soldier's… enemy, right?
That wasn't the convoluted statement of a tsundere. I'm being serious.
I despise it. That childish desire to be noticed, that immature spirit, those careless statements. That foolish lack of defenses. Everyone put in the effort to become 'normal'. There was no salvation for those who abandoned the very notion of effort, who contracted this get-out-of-jail-free notion of 'heroism'. They should just be destroyed.
That's why, when Yamamoto's fist buried into Kinoshita's stomach, I wasn't moved in the slightest. The man who would one day reign over the world congress let out a shameful moan as he crouched down. I even felt a pleasant rush to see warriors were all the same in the face of violence. With the powerful kick of a soccer club star, Kinoshita was on his back like a pathetic turtle.
Ozaki-san's quiet "Get him" approval sounded especially loud.
"And that's one small fry down."
Once again, his hand reached for Oda. As I expected, Yamamoto was the type who'd really do it. Oda shrunk her body in fear. That was for the best. Some part of me felt relieved. Give up any pointless resistance; don't instigate him, just let it end quickly. From experience, I could say that no matter what sort of bullying, as long as you don't resist, it'll be over by the time you're stripped naked. If they wanted to be warriors so bad, they could've gathered at their own homes. They could have exchanged texts.
Yamamoto's hand reached for a powerless Oda. After they'd seen Kinoshita's ship sunk in two shots, not a single dream soldier could stand anymore. No signs of anyone helping. Not a peep from me either.
"Ow!"
The cry belonged to Yamamoto. Holding his hand that had been smacked down, he took a few steps back. The hero who saved Oda was—Ryouko.
While the shaft had broken, the staff's crown was a mass of metal parts, making for a splendid blunt weapon. She had intercepted the hand with it. With the same tempo as ever, Ryouko said this.
"… Reboot successful."
Perhaps because I was still a child, I was sometimes possessed by emotions I couldn't identify. For example, the goosebumps racing down my body at that moment, were they the same physiological revulsions as usual… or perhaps…?
"Woman… don't mess with me. I'll kill you."
Yamamoto snapped. Would Ryouko be struck? Would that small frame of hers be able to accept the violence of a man? I doubt she'd get off safe.
To Kobato-san who had returned nearby, I tried asking my final question I didn’t have to ask.
"How did they treat Ryouko at first?"
They tried to take off her clothes, her robe… and she started struggling… so Yamamoto-kun got angry and grabbed her hair, and snapped her staff.
Ah, dammit, it went and established itself. A reason to defend her. You freaking started this, Retardmoto.
"Tsunderes aren't really my thing."
"Eh?"
Pushing my way through, I stepped between Yamamoto and Ryouko. Touching aggressively pushing my body against him, I enraged him further. Yamamoto must not have been used to being attacked, he gazed at me with a blank look on his face.
"… You, Sayou! What's that? Huh? Wanna go at it? Wanna go two on one!?"
Yamamoto immediately grabbed my collar. When he threatened me up close, I could easily discern his bullying prowess. Yamamoto's build was overly slim. It didn't seem he had too much power. If I had to rank him, he'd barely nudge in at number ten, at most. With all my experience, my punch resistance alone was high, pathetically enough.
I coldly informed Yamamoto's dark red face.
"You're the small fry. Know your place."
What chemical reaction occurred in the depths of his brain? His expression went limp. I couldn't tell whether he was laughing or angry, this was the look of a person who had lost control.
I was rising to cloud nine. I managed to say what I never could in my middle school days. I wanted to say more.
"Did you just,"
I placed emphasis on the approaching face.
"Your breath stinks, Yamamoto."
And like that, I was auspiciously punched in the stomach. It wasn't my solar plexus, and I was bracing myself, so I endured it. While my breathing stopped, as long as you know it's coming, you can keep pain out of your mind. That being the case, I was rendered unable to speak, so looking him right in the eye, I made my best smile of the tear (sadly, a cynical one).
"The, ya—!"
Raising his voice so much I could no longer tell what he was saying, he punched my face. A nostalgic sensation permeated my cheek. When you're being hit, truth is, the scariest part is the leadup. After that, it might hurt, but as your mind is often stunned, you usually get off easy.
Yamamoto's punches with as big of a windup as he could muster visited me in rapid succession. While I took a few hits, I grew accustomed along the way, managing to avoid and block a few of them. The man crying out as he struck me, and then there was me silently being struck. What even is this, this guy isn't used to punching at all. His face punches aren't even breaking my teeth, at this rate, his rank ten is going to be suspect.
Now then, what next? Waiting for the teacher was the ironclad rule, but it would be interesting to get just one blow in myself. It would be irritating if it was determined both sides were to blame. Whether it would go well or not, I measured my timing and tried just once. I pretended to collapse as I braced my knees, kicking the floor, and plunging my head in. A tackle.
My headbutt flew in a lower trajectory than expected, sinking me into Yamamoto's stomach. While I took a considerable impact to the neck, I could fell the sensation of hitting right into his center of balance. Gephew, I heard his lungs gasping. Yamamoto's body collapsed back as he smacked into the wall below the blackboard. Perhaps because I had timed it with his own advance, I managed quite a clean hit. Just like that, I feigned a dying breath as I curled up.
Yamamoto mounted my body, he started lowering a punch at my back. But he didn't have any power left. It was an exhausted punch. Inside of my armadillo crouch, I laughed.
I did it. Now punch me all you want. The teacher will be here soon.
"What are you doing!? Get off of him!"
Yep, and there it is. Good work everyone. I appreciate your service.
"Yama, stupid, hey stop it!" Takahashi got Yamamoto into a Nelson.
"This is terrible… hey, are you conscious? Alright, I'll call the nurse. You're going straight to the counseling room. Someone get Dorisen-kun here!"
What a wonderful development. It was as if I'd just reclaimed all my bad fortune.
"What is… this…"
Ooshima Yumina's desolate voice now rung a soothing tune to me.
Within the day, Yamamoto was suspended, and I was sent to a doctor by way of the infirmary. While I had taken a few blows, I didn't suffer any conspicuous injuries. My parents who came to get me went and made their own ruckus of, "You're not to blame anymore," in tears, and more than anything else, it was awkward.
I took just a day off from school to be safe.
Surfing the net at home, indulging in depravity was the best.