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It started with a little wave, a little smile. A little bubble of excitement—“Tenshouin-kun! You’re out of the hospital!”
A little wave, a little corridor that Tenshouin led him down. A little smile that Chiaki trusted. There was no reason not to trust him.
A little wave, come closer, closer. A little smile that revealed a secret they would soon share.
A little secret.
“I’ve been in and out of the hospital for so long, Chiaki, I barely know anyone in school,” Tenshouin had said. “So I was hoping you could help me. You see, I have a plan.”
It started with a little smile.
“Three Oddballs…” Chiaki muses, fiddling with his glasses. “It’s kind of a weird name, don’t you think?”
“I guess you could say it’s a little odd.” Tenshouin giggles at his own joke, and Chiaki finds himself laughing along with him. “You’re acquainted with Shinkai-kun, correct? Kei—Hasumi-kun mentioned something like that before.”
Chiaki nods. “Yeah, I met Shinkai-kun last year. He helped me out a bit.”
“Just as you helped us out.” Tenshouin smiles and offers him tea. The cup is warm to the touch, a welcome relief from the chilly spring breeze floating through the garden terrace. “I heard all about your tireless efforts to reinstate the student council.”
Chiaki feels heat creep up his neck. “I wouldn’t call it tireless. I just wanted to help in any way I could, you know? Heroes are supposed to help people!”
“Heroes, yes,” Tenshouin says, setting down his own teacup. “You’ve always believed in those fantastical tales like heroes and justice, ever since childhood. You’d do well not to let people take advantage of your disposition, Chiaki.”
Chiaki tilts his head as he processes Tenshouin’s words. “Um? I guess, but helping people is my goal, after all. I don’t really mind if people use me if it’ll help them.”
Tenshouin seems to smile at that, but when Chiaki blinks, it’s gone. “Those delinquents in Ryuseitai have treated you like that, haven’t they? Why do you stay with them?”
“Ryuseitai is important to me!” Chiaki leans forward as if to emphasize his statement. “Sure, the guys can get a little rough, and they treat me more like a slave than a member of their unit, but I know if I keep working hard, they’re sure to turn around!”
“All that for a handful of delinquents…” Tenshouin trails off, staring into his tea. “You are quite the incredible person.”
Chiaki chuckles dryly. “Ah, not really. I talk big about becoming a hero, but I haven’t actually done anything heroic. I’m all talk, no action. Nothing like the heroes on tokusatsu.”
Tenshouin hums and reaches out, his fingers lightly grazing over Chiaki’s knuckles where they grip the teacup in his hand. “What if I told you I could change that? I can make you the hero you’ve always longed to be.”
“Monsters?” Chiaki repeats, tasting the bitter word on his tongue. “I don’t think I follow.”
“I’m sure you can if you try,” Tenshouin says, patting him on the shoulder. “You’re not so stupid that you can’t understand, right? That’s why I came to you.”
Chiaki shakes his head. “But I don’t get it. Shinkai-kun isn’t a monster, he’s just—” a human; the word refuses to come out.
“Of course they’re human,” Tenshouin says flippantly, and Chiaki wonders if maybe he can read his mind. “But do you see this school around you, Chiaki? What has it become?”
Chiaki thinks hard, trying to understand. He thinks of his own Ryuseitai. “Well, it’s… it’s corrupt. No one works hard, and they barely do any work. You can barely even call them idols.”
“Correct.” Tenshouin pauses to smile at him. “The students at Yumenosaki are lazy, arrogant, careless. This school is rotting from the inside, and it’s the entire world who will pay for that. And who do you think is responsible for it?”
“All of us are,” he says firmly.
Tenshouin tilts his head. “You really are an ally of justice, aren’t you? Are you going to punish everyone in the school, then?”
“I—” Chiaki hangs his head. “I can’t do something like that. I’m not strong enough, and no one listens to me, anyway.”
“Then you do understand,” Tenshouin says. “That we can’t bring justice to every one of these corrupt students. That we can only save a select few victims of this failed system—the worst of them.”
“Is Shinkai-kun really one of the worst…?”
Tenshouin waves his hand. “He is a cog in this broken machine. Have you ever seen him participate in idol activities? Have you seen him in class? What is he here for, Chiaki? Why did he come to Yumenosaki?”
Chiaki does understand. But still—“It would be great if he came to class and participated in lives, but… it feels wrong to target Shinkai-kun.”
Tenshouin watches him carefully. “Because he’s your friend?”
“No, he’s… not my friend. We talked a bit last year, but I’ve been avoiding him since then.” He wonders briefly what might have changed if he weren’t such a coward.
“Do you want to change that?” Tenshouin asks, and Chiaki feels something stir in his chest. “We’re going to revolutionize the school, Chiaki. And when our plans have come to fruition, perhaps you can reach out your hand to him, and Shinkai-kun will take it. It’s not like we’re going to kill anyone, after all.”
Chiaki considers this, weighs each of Tenshouin’s sparkling words in his mind. “Then what are we going to do?”
Tenshouin smiles. “We’re going to be heroes. We’re going to save these people who have become monsters, and turn them back into humans.”
Tenshouin catches him as they leave class.
“Did you think more about my proposal?” he asks, quickening his pace just enough to match Chiaki’s. “I was hoping you would have some good ideas. You know a lot more people in this school than I do, after all.”
“I don’t know a lot of first years, though,” Chiaki admits.
“That’s fine.” Tenshouin chases away Chiaki’s insecurities with a wave of his hand, and Chiaki can’t help but believe him. “At this point, we’re just filling out the numbers. We have our three main characters, Sakuma Rei, Hibiki Wataru, and your Shinkai Kanata-kun. We’ve already decided on Itsuki Shu. If we get a first year with exemplary abilities, that will be enough. I’d prefer that they don’t often participate in idol activities, or at least that they’re not in a unit.”
Chiaki hums. “There’s a bunch of first years who aren’t in a unit. Should we just pick someone?”
“We have to be very deliberate in our selection,” Tenshouin counters. “Remember who the Oddballs are, Chiaki: unparalleled geniuses who have been corrupted by the rot inside Yumenosaki Academy. If even one of them doesn’t fit this image, no one will believe in our plans, and nothing will change.”
“Oh,” Chiaki says, jaw falling slack. “I get it! If the final Oddball can’t stand side by side to the other four, he’ll be overshadowed by them. And then no one will think he needs saving. And that would completely destroy the Oddballs from the start.”
“Correct.” Tenshouin’s smile is warm and comforting. “We need to work slowly and carefully. The charisma and influence of the Oddballs are essential. They are the pinnacle of talent, and we must work to preserve that talent, correct?”
“Right,” Chiaki agrees. “If not, you won’t be able to save them or the school. The students won’t believe in what you’re trying to do.”
“There is power in numbers, after all. We need the student body on our side.” Tenshouin grips his hand into a loose fist, the bar on his Eichi-kun Gauge already half-filled. “We’re going to cleanse this school of the rot. We need to be the heroes of this story. If not, we’ll lose control before this war has even started. The bloodshed will likely triple, or even quadruple.”
“Huh?” Chiaki laughs because that was a joke, wasn’t it? “Have you always been this cryptic, Tenshouin-kun?”
“Don’t you remember?”
Tenshouin’s non-answer leaves Chiaki scrambling for footing. “Right! So then, the Oddballs. Let’s see…”
“It’s fine to take your time, and I can always ask Keito if you can’t think of anyone. But I wanted to ask you first, since you’re my closest confidante right now.” Tenshouin rests his hand on Chiaki’s arm, and Chiaki’s heart skips a little beat.
“I can think of someone! Just one sec…” He shakes his head with more vigor than intended, thinks long and hard. “There’s that one kid, Oogami, who’s always chasing after Sakuma-senpai and Hasumi-kun. I’ve heard he’s really good with the guitar. But… he’s still kind of a novice, from what I saw back at DEADMANZ Live.”
Tenshouin nods in approval. “He hasn’t reached his growth spurt yet. Keep thinking, Chiaki.”
“That first year who recently joined Valkyrie has been catching a lot of attention, too, but since he’s only been propped up as a pretty doll and hasn’t been singing with them, it’s hard to judge where he’s at.” Chiaki runs a hand through his hair. “This is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”
“Your analyses are perfect, though,” Tenshouin says, and the praise ripples through Chiaki like a wave. “I knew I’d chosen correctly when I approached you.”
Chiaki grins widely, looking away in embarrassment. A thought comes to mind suddenly, and he perks up. “Oh, I know! There’s a first year I know in passing, Akehoshi Subaru. Apparently people think he’s a genius, so he’d fit in with the Oddballs, right? He’s not in a unit, either.”
“Akehoshi Subaru…” Tenshouin shakes his head. “I know about him, but I’ve been hesitant to include him. I haven’t decided where he stands. Much like that Hidaka Hokuto-kun, he’s been raised into the world of entertainment. If our Oddballs are just riding the coattails of their parents, no one will believe in the phenomenon, you know?”
“I think he’s the real deal,” Chiaki asserts. “I’ve seen him practicing a couple times, and he’s really good. I’m sure everyone else agrees, too.”
Tenshouin is quiet for a long moment, bringing a thoughtful hand to his chin.
“Umm, Tenshouin-kun?” Chiaki asks hesitantly. Tenshouin blinks owlishly, returning to the present. “I don’t want to interrupt whatever you’re thinking about, but should I find someone else?”
“No. If his talent is genuine, then his pedigree would only work in our favor. Do you know anything else about him, Chiaki?”
“Ahh… not really. I can ask him the next time I see him, but no matter how hard I try, it’s hard to get your kouhai to cling to you as a senpai, right? This new group of kids has been so cold…” Chiaki sighs. “But I won’t give up—I can’t give up! If it’s for the sake of heroism, I’ll walk through fire!” Metaphorically, his fears add silently.
Tenshouin’s frown turns up as he breaks into a fit of giggles. “I really was right, after all.”
“What’re you talking about, Tenshouin-kun?”
“I was right to come to you first,” Tenshouin says. “I had a hunch you would make this a fun year for me, and you haven’t disappointed me yet.”
Rumors have been spreading about the Five Oddballs. Chiaki feels strangely light.
It began with an article printed in a magazine, an exposé on Yumenosaki’s natural prodigies. The five geniuses who stand apart from the riffraff and the delinquents.
Their leader, Sakuma Rei, likened to a god by anyone who’s met him. He can do anything, and he has a massive following to boot.
Hibiki Wataru, a genius actor who can surprise even the most stoic, learned person with his fantastical magic tricks.
Itsuki Shu, leader and mastermind behind the strongest unit at Yumenosaki, Valkyrie. He’s risen to fame both inside and outside the school with his immaculately crafted performances.
Akehoshi Subaru, the son of that world-famous idol and a genius in his own right. His youthful, sparkling energy brings attention to the group and keeps it on them.
And Shinkai Kanata, hailed as a god of his own religion, a supernatural being who can grant any wish if you just ask it.
Chiaki stares at the article, now long-forgotten by the student body in favor of the endless rumors spreading about them. The article talks about Shinkai’s natural proclension for performing arts, his beautiful voice, his unpracticed talent for dance.
Nowhere does it mention anything Mikejima had told him last year.
He hasn’t spoken to Shinkai since the year started up—since before then, really. Not since he’d met Mikejima last summer by the pool, when he’d learned the truth behind Shinkai’s godhood and the miracles he’d performed.
But now Shinkai has friends, a whole group of people he can call his equals. He’s seen them together, the barest hint of a smile on Shinkai’s face as they talk. They’re still uneasy with each other, but every time he catches sight of them they appear closer, more comfortable.
Shinkai never needed him to begin with, especially not now. Chiaki is happy for him.
He closes the magazine and pushes it aside. He’s read that article more times than he can count now. And besides, his lunch is getting cold.
“So you eat in the cafeteria.”
Chiaki squeaks out a yelp and jumps so high his knee bangs into the table. “T–Tenshouin-kun? What’re you doing here!”
Tenshouin just gives him a little smile and gestures to the chair across from him. “May I?”
“Of course!” His voice is still too high, too startled, and he nods too forcefully to compensate for it. He clears his voice and tries again. “You scared me, Tenshouin-kun. No one ever talks to me during lunch, so I wasn’t expecting you to just come up to me!”
“You’re unexpectedly timid, aren’t you?” But Tenshouin doesn’t seem to be insulting him, and his smooth voice helps break down Chiaki’s walls. “I wanted to ask you for a favor of sorts. It’s something only heroes can do, and it’s important to me.”
“Heroes?” Chiaki’s heart pounds in his chest. Tenshouin really is making good on that promise from before. He leans in helplessly. “If it’s a job for heroes, then I’ll gladly take up the mantle! Hahaha!”
“I thought you might say that.” Tenshouin turns to dig through his bag, and after a moment he produces a small stack of papers, neatly bound at the right. He places it between them, and Chiaki stares down at it, unseeing.
“Um, Tenshouin-kun? What is this?”
Tenshouin chuckles. “It’s a contract. Since I’m the president of the student council now, I can easily make any arrangements necessary, so this is the perfect time to ask: will you form a unit with me?”
Eichi’s fingers are slow as they do up the buttons on Chiaki’s vest, almost a mirror image to Tomoe on the other side of the room as he helps Ran get ready. Somehow, Chiaki thinks they’re more alike in some ways than they’d ever dare to admit.
“Are you nervous, leader?” Eichi doesn’t turn his face up to meet him, instead concentrating on the task in front of him while he finds his resolve and strength for the upcoming performance.
“It’s embarrassing when you call me that…” Chiaki adjusts his jacket and clears his throat, ignoring the sidelong glance Tomoe gives him. “But I’m fine! After all, we’ve already done this kind of thing plenty of times before.”
“Oh, but this live is special,” Eichi reminds him.
“Because we’re facing off against that Oddball, Itsuki-kun, right?” Even now, Chiaki can hear their flawless performance echoing through the wings. “We’re plenty strong with the four of us. Tomoe-kun and Ran-kun are incredible when you put them on stage, and of course your performances are always perfect, Eichi.”
“Now you’re the one saying embarrassing things.” Eichi shakes his head, careful not to let a single hair fall out of place. “But you should never forget your part in this, Chiaki. You’re our treasured leader.”
“I still don’t understand why you made me the leader, though.” Chiaki stretches out his hand to help Eichi up. At the very least, he doesn’t want Eichi expending any more energy than he needs to. “I don’t exactly have many leadership qualities.”
Eichi laughs the laugh that makes Chiaki’s worries melt away. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’ve splendidly wrangled the elusive Ran Nagisa and the infuriating Tomoe Hiyori, all by yourself, and you’ve brought us together as a close-knit group. Isn’t that right, Hiyori-kun?”
“I’d thank you not to dirty my beautiful name with your mouth,” Tomoe says, turning up his nose. “Aren’t you lying about that whole close-knit group thing, anyway?”
“Oh, you’ve caught me,” Eichi concedes, though he doesn’t look guilty in any sense.
Ran is looking off to the side, fingers twining and untwining. “...Eichi-kun said fine was a group focused on elegance.”
Tomoe nods. “That’s right. We have no obligation to play nice with Eichi-kun, so long as we get the job done and look beautiful doing it.”
“Hang on, don’t fight,” Chiaki says, motioning for them to calm down. “We’re a unit, right? So we’re all friends!”
Tomoe seems to deflate, which is a good sign. He doesn’t look happy about it, but it’s still better than nothing. “There’s no point in arguing with a cockroach, anyway.”
“A cockroach?” Eichi repeats, as if testing the words for himself. “Your insults get more creative every day, Hiyori-kun. I’m impressed.”
“Eichi, you too…” Chiaki puts a hand on Eichi’s shoulder and feels him relax under the touch. Another good sign. “We should at least try to get along while we’re working.”
“There’s nothing in the contracts about getting along,” Eichi points out matter-of-factly. “But perhaps for your sake, I’ll try picking fewer fights.”
Chiaki jumps back as if he’s been burnt. “You were doing it on purpose?!”
Eichi just laughs and waves him off, offering no answer to the question. “It’s almost time for our performance, Chiaki. Make sure you’re ready.”
Chiaki is about to respond when the resounding echo of Valkyrie’s live cuts off. An icy pit forms in his stomach, and he turns to peek out onto the stage where those three are standing still, frozen in place, hands raised as if they were in a photograph.
“What’s—”
“Shh,” Eichi says, his lips far too close to Chiaki’s ear. “Let’s watch and see what they do from here.”
The silence is oppressive, weighing down on him until he finds he can no longer breathe. What is this? A technical error? Part of the performance? Or…
Eichi’s face is stony and serious, and he watches the stage with calculating eyes. Fear and anxiety bubble up inside Chiaki, creeping up his throat. He feels nauseous.
“Eichi, did you—?”
He’s cut off when that pretty new kid breaks into song. It doesn’t fit this image of Valkyrie, but it’s practiced and polished nonetheless. Chiaki can’t help but think he might have made a good Oddball if he’d been given the chance to seriously perform.
“Oh?” Tomoe pushes himself up on his toes and rests his chin on Chiaki’s shoulder to see better. “What’s going on?”
“They’ve started singing…” Ran observes as that quiet Nito joins in, his voice harsh and dissonant with the first year’s.
“Looks like it’s our win.” Tomoe’s tone is flippant and distant. “We don’t even need to try after this.”
“Please do your best anyway, Hiyori-kun,” Eichi chides. “Our goal is much larger than this live, after all.”
Tomoe clicks his tongue and pushes off of Chiaki, as if trying to put distance between himself and Eichi. “I know what the contract says, Eichi-kun. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
“Should we go help them…?” Chiaki muses, hoping that the answer he gets won’t make his sense of unease grow stronger.
“If they can’t get through this, it will mean they were only that strong as idols,” Eichi says. “It will mean they aren’t fit to stand at the top of Yumenosaki or the entertainment world.”
“But it’s a hero’s duty to save someone in trouble!” is Chiaki’s desperate attempt at a retort. “At the very least, we could go to the sound room and—”
“Chiaki,” Eichi says, never once looking at him. “Do you know what a hero is?”
Chiaki fidgets. “Uh…”
“A hero is someone who conquers and dominates, someone who defeats the villain.” Eichi continues to stare out at the stage. “In every hero story, there must be a villain, correct?”
“Yeah, but…” Chiaki’s heart pounds in his chest.
“If we are the heroes, Chiaki, then who do you think are the villains?”
What is a hero, Eichi?
Chiaki turns the question over in his head. He thinks about tokusatsu, he thinks about Caesar, he thinks about Valkyrie, about fine, about himself.
Are they heroes?
Eichi is in the hospital again, as a provisional measure. Chiaki is the one who urged him to go. It’s one heroic thing he can do—make sure his friend takes care of himself. If nothing else, he can do this one thing.
With Eichi in the hospital and Ran and Tomoe off in their own world, Chiaki is alone with his thoughts.
He saw Shinkai this morning.
He was bathing in that fountain his followers had installed last year. He’d opened his mouth as if to call out to him, but no words came out. Or perhaps they did, but Chiaki didn’t hear them as he hurried away in shame.
Can he face Shinkai now?
He knows that the school is corrupt, that the monsters inside Yumenosaki were only growing in number and in strength. That without a hero, they’re only going to fall into ruin. And now that fine is here, people are slowly starting to change and see the error of their ways.
But the tension in the school is stifling. With every passing day, the animosity toward the Five Oddballs grows, the rallying cries behind the student council become louder. Was this the plan all along? To make examples of the Oddballs, to tear them down so that others will be lifted up?
Chiaki shakes his head. No, Eichi isn’t that cruel. They’re saving the Oddballs from themselves, from the school. It may be painful now, but they’ll recover, and they’ll be stronger because of it. Right?
His phone buzzes. It’s a text from Keito. We’ll be taking care of Shinkai. Rest up.
Rest up. Of course, he’s exhausted too. Not as much as Eichi must be, but his movements are slow, his eyes heavy. Practice is brutal and unrelenting. There’s no break when you stand at the top of the school.
And he’s the leader of fine, the face of this war they’ve waged upon the school. Eichi calls him the protagonist, the hero of this story.
Chiaki hasn’t seen Shu in days. Not since the live. And yet no one asks where he is or how he is. The name Valkyrie is said with scorn, disgust.
The top idols have been dethroned, and they’re dragging the other Oddballs down with them.
What is a hero, Eichi?
Chiaki has to hold back the bile rising in his throat with his hand, teeth clenched tight as he doubles over, his only free hand reaching out desperately for something to cling onto even as the world vanishes from under his feet.
That something ends up being Eichi’s arm, but Eichi doesn’t even flinch when he grabs onto it.
“Thank you,” Eichi says, that same angelic smile he shows to all his fans painted on his face, “senpai.”
Sakuma Rei scoffs and turns around, leaving the way he came. The echoes of his curse ring in Chiaki’s ears.
“Just a little longer…” Eichi mutters, holding himself upright and rigid. As soon as Sakuma disappears into the school, he falls into Chiaki’s arms, breath labored and quick. His head lolls to the side and a bead of sweat rolls down his temple, and Chiaki almost forgets everything.
But he can’t. He can’t forget the truth, the lies Eichi had wrapped up in a pretty bow and served to him on a silver platter. “Eichi, you…”
“Sorry, Chiaki.” Eichi’s voice comes out small and weak; it’s a voice that only Chiaki is allowed to hear. “Do you hate me now, too?”
“I…” He wants to say no, wants to defend Eichi with everything he has, wants to believe that the Oddballs really were the villains Eichi had told him they were—
But they’re not. Eichi had said so himself just now. And even as they lean against the wall, Eichi coughing into his elbow, he doesn’t deny any of it.
“They were all lies,” Chiaki says.
Eichi takes a moment to compose himself, running a hand through his hair and wiping the sweat from his brow. “Not everything. This is a revolution, and don’t you see its effects? The rot is slowly clearing away.”
It’s true, of course Chiaki can see that, but… “The Oddballs were sacrifices, not victims in need of saving.”
“Yes,” Eichi agrees, not even bothering to make excuses for himself. “They were necessary sacrifices to motivate the student body.”
Each word feels like a sword stabbing at his abdomen. “We were never the heroes, were we?”
“What is a hero, Chiaki?” Eichi repeats, his voice raspy, weak. “They are the victors in a story, stepping over the mutilated bodies of those who lost to them. Am I wrong?”
“Yes!” Chiaki struggles to keep Eichi upright, his head tucked under Chiaki’s chin. He’s sure that Eichi can hear his heart pounding in his chest. “That’s not… heroes are… heroes are on the side of justice. They don’t let others become sacrifices. They find a way for everyone to get along and live together.”
Eichi’s chuckle is almost nonexistent. “Your ideals are admirable, but you’re too naive, Chiaki. This is justice.”
“Wh—?!”
Eichi doesn’t let him finish. “It’s justice for the school, for all of us trying our hardest to succeed in a world that no longer wants us. Heroes are those who stain their hands in blood to shape the world as they like. That is why we speak their names hundreds of years after their deaths. Because they moved mountains, because they killed those who stood in their way. And now we, fine, will be immortalized among them.”
Chiaki’s blood runs cold. Any words he could have used to counter Eichi stick in his throat.
“Isn’t that what you wanted, Chiaki? To be a hero?”
“I…” Chiaki says, then doesn’t say. What can he say? What does he want?
Is this how heroes are made? Shaping and molding history into their own image, destroying evidence to the contrary. Napoleon, Caesar, Alexander—those were the men Eichi had called heroes.
Despite all the bloodshed, all the death. All the atrocities they committed with their own two hands.
“Tomorrow it’ll be all over,” Eichi says. “There’s no stopping this anymore. The war is over. History has already been written, Chiaki.”
A pit of hopelessness gathers in his stomach, and he feels his legs shake—if Eichi weren’t leaning on him, pressing him against the wall, they would have both collapsed by now.
He wants to—he doesn’t know what he wants to do. The world is spinning around him, the weight of the truth pressing down on him until his body aches, each breath he takes a short, desperate gasp.
Is this how it ends? Was he really this stupid, this naive? This blind to reality? Did he want to be a hero so badly that he was willing to become a villain for it?
When Eichi had called the Five Oddballs victims, what had he meant, truly? Did he mean that they were victims of a corrupt system, innocent bystanders absorbing the rot surrounding them? Did he mean that they were victims of the war—that they were the necessary sacrifices?
Was he lying through his teeth, even back then, or had Chiaki just heard what he wanted to hear?
He swallows back the tears pricking at his eyes and sweeps Eichi into his arms, ignoring the tiny, weak voice of protest.
“Chiaki?” Eichi asks, his name broken up by a fit of coughing. “What are you doing?”
He stomps through the hall, biting his lip until it bleeds. “Taking you to the infirmary.”
Eichi is quiet for a moment. “I figured you would leave me there to die.”
Chiaki shakes his head, refusing to look down at him. He can’t, not right now. “That’s not what a hero would do.”
“Are you going to save me?” There’s a sardonic smile in his voice that twists at Chiaki’s stomach. “Are you still playing hero?”
“I’m not a hero,” Chiaki says firmly, ignoring the way his voice shakes. “You’ve shown me that now. But even if I can’t be a hero, I still want to do what’s right.”
Eichi says nothing.
Hibiki falls back into his chair, howling with laughter. “Amazing! I must say, Hero-san, this is not what I was expecting! You’ve surprised me!”
Chiaki holds his ground, even as his legs threaten to give out. “Hibiki-kun, please listen to me. I don’t have any power on my own, so there’s not really a reason for you to listen to me, but you definitely can’t go to that live tomorrow!”
“Why?” Hibiki asks, his eyes filled with mirth. “So that the curtain may never fall on this tragicomedy? Do you wish for this war to extend into the next year, as well?”
Chiaki curls in on himself. “No, that’s…”
“Now, now,” Hibiki says, ushering him out of the theater club room, and Chiaki isn’t even sure when he got behind him. “I have a very important rehearsal with Eichi tonight, and I mustn’t be late. Be a good boy and wait for the finale tomorrow.”
Chiaki digs his heels into the floor and turns around to meet Hibiki before he can be pushed out of the room. “Wait, Hibiki-kun! That’s just it. I–I left fine, so…”
Hibiki’s eyebrows shoot up, and his smile falls from his face. “Oh? What an unexpected development. Did Eichi allow that?”
“I don’t know, actually,” he admits, shoulders slumping forward, “but I can’t just go along with his plans anymore. I don’t want there to be any more victims!”
Hibiki’s face splits into a grin. He releases Chiaki and spins across the floor, arms spread wide. “Are you usurping the role of hero from Eichi? Am I to be your heroine, then? Shall we embrace and share a passionate kiss?”
“Huh? No, that’s a little, uh.” Chiaki’s face blooms with heat. “A–anyway! I keep saying it, but you shouldn’t go to the live. Don’t you know what’s going to happen?”
Hibiki stops mid-twirl and looks over his shoulder at him. “But of course. The villain will be struck down by the light of judgment, and fine will bring prosperity to the school—is that it?”
“But…” Chiaki frowns. “But don’t you hate that, Hibiki-kun? You’re not a villain at all! We’re the ones who made you that way.”
“That is true! You’ve become quite perceptive, Hero-san! Much more so than at the beginning of this war.” Hibiki cackles, his voice resounding within the small clubroom. “Shall I praise you? How about that kiss?”
Chiaki turns away in embarrassment. “You’ve known this whole time, then? You never even tried to stop it, though.”
“Because that was not the role given to me,” Hibiki sing-songs, his voice far too light for a discussion this heavy. “I perform all of my roles perfectly, after all. It would be unthinkable of me to start now.”
“Then you’re still going to the live,” Chiaki says, his heart sinking low.
“Let’s say I don’t,” Hibiki says, and suddenly he’s quieter, like his mask is chipping away. “What happens then, Hero-san? Eichi’s war will have no conclusion, and the war will rage on. Nothing will quell the students. Who will save us then? Will you take up that role? Will you become the hero?”
Chiaki clenches his fists, releases them, and repeats that a few times as he thinks. “No. I’ve lost the right to call myself a hero.”
“Then the choice is simple, no?” Hibiki’s smile is small.
Hibiki’s right, Chiaki knows he is, but—“I can’t just sit here and accept that without doing anything!”
“And what is it you plan to do?” Hibiki goads.
What can he do? What’s left for him, for any of them?
His nails dig into his palms. “I’ll perform with you. I won’t let you do this alone.”
Hibiki bursts into joyous laughter. “Amazing! You really are full of surprises, Hero-san! What’s next, will you grow a second head? Walk on water? Escape from a milk can?”
Chiaki’s head spins as he tries to keep up with Hibiki. “A milk can…? Actually, never mind. I’m serious, Hibiki-kun. Let me perform with you. You can’t go on stage alone, after all, and I… I want to make up for what I’ve done. I can’t atone for everything with this, but… it’s a start. I want to show Eichi that he’s wrong.”
“The hero becomes the martyr!” Hibiki presses his hand to his forehead and swoons. “What an unexpected plot twist, especially for such a poorly written script!”
Chiaki sighs. “Are you listening to me, Hibiki-kun…?”
“Yes, yes! How could I not, when you are saying such interesting things?” Hibiki whoops again, throwing his head back. “Very well, I shall accept your offer. I’d had other arrangements prepared, but this will do just nicely.”
Hibiki puts out his hand, beckoning for Chiaki to take it. Chiaki swallows, reality chilling his bones in fear.
Hibiki bends down and kisses the back of his hand—a binding contract of his own.
Chiaki can’t help but feel that this kind of outfit doesn’t suit him.
“Do not wear such a long face, Chiaki-kun!” Hibiki pats him on the back a little too forcefully, and Chiaki smiles weakly back at him. “There’s no need to worry. After all, we only need to execute the finale perfectly, and then bow for our standing ovation!”
Chiaki nods. “Um, Hibiki-kun—”
Hibiki presses a finger to his mouth, silencing him. “Oh! Such formalities for a comrade-in-arms. Are we not to die together upon Eichi’s spearhead, our blood running together until it is no longer distinguishable from one another? This will not do at all! Please call me by my name.”
Chiaki ignores the disturbing imagery and presses forward. “Wataru-kun—”
“What a joyous occasion!” Wataru exclaims, throwing his arms out. “To come together as friends, to find connection amidst bloodshed! What wonders this world has to offer!”
Chiaki’s heart leaps a little at the word friends, but he squashes it down and reminds himself of why he’s here. He doesn’t deserve friends, not yet, and especially not with someone he’s hurt so badly. “Right, yeah. Wataru-kun, you’re strangely carefree about this.”
“Just as I told that child, I have practiced tirelessly for this role, you see,” Wataru explains, fiddling with the buttons on Chiaki’s costume before smoothing it down. “Remember what we are here for, Hero-san. I do hope you’ll play your role excellently, as well.”
“I’ve had plenty of practice playing the villain this year,” Chiaki says with a frown.
“Tomorrow, we shall see a new Yumenosaki.” Wataru’s voice is quiet, or at least he’s not yelling anymore. “There is a reason for everything. That is why Eichi let you switch units, is it not?”
Chiaki fidgets in the stiff, ornate costume. “I don’t want to let him get away with this unscathed. If I don’t do anything, it’ll be just like I condone his actions. I wouldn’t be any better.”
“You are the hero Eichi said you were.” Wataru smiles at him. “Now come, Chiaki-kun. The curtain rises on our final performance.”
Chiaki nods and follows after him to the stage.
It’s fitting, he thinks, that the war ends in his own death.