The school bell at Hanagawa High doesn't ring—it tolling. To the average student, it's a celestial chime signaling the glorious arrival of the lunch break—a time for yakisoba bread, gossip, and the occasional rooftop confession. To me, Inuzuka Kyotaru, it sounded like the heavy, iron door of a medieval dungeon slamming shut.
I sat at my desk, my fingers gripping the edges of my wood grain as if I could somehow fuse my atoms with the furniture and become invisible. I had precisely twelve minutes before the Traditional Interrogation mentioned in the silver-embossed death warrant began.
"Maybe if I don't move, their vision, based on movement like a T-Rex, won't pick me up," I whispered to a pencil. The pencil didn't answer. It just rolled off the desk and broke its lead, a fitting metaphor for my structural integrity.
"Kyotaru-kun? Why are you vibrating?"
Yuko was standing over me. She had already unpacked a bento that smelled suspiciously like lavender and high-grade sedatives. Her eyes were sharp, scanning the classroom for silver-haired threats.
"I'm not vibrating, Yuko. I'm recalibrating my soul for the upcoming exit from this mortal coil," I replied, my voice a flat line of pure exhaustion. "The Shadow Guard is coming. They have a cat, Yuko. A hostage cat. My life has become a Mad Libs sheet filled out by a sadist."
"Don't be silly. I won't let them take you," Yuko said, her hand resting on my shoulder. Her grip was firm—firm enough to let me know that if I tried to run, she'd be the one to break my collarbone first. "I've prepared a counter-strategy. I have a binder, three types of disinfectant, and I've memorized the Geneva Convention. They can't legally interrogate you if I declare this desk an independent sovereign state."
Before I could ask about the legalities of desk-secession, the classroom door didn't open—it was 'removed'.
Two men in black tactical suits, wearing sunglasses indoors (the international symbol for 'I have no soul and my father didn't hug me'), stepped into the room. They moved with a terrifying, synchronized silence. Behind them walked Amilia, twirling a ceremonial fan with the grace of a woman who had never once had to wait in a line for the bathroom.
"Savior! The hour of the Moon's Review has arrived!" Amilia chirped, her silver hair catching the fluorescent light in a way that made my eyes ache. "The Elders are waiting! They have traveled through the digital aether to gaze upon the man who 'claimed' the Shindou-Ainsworth legacy with a clumsy tackle!"
"I didn't claim anything! I just saved!" I yelled, but it was too late.
The Shadow Guard didn't use handcuffs. They simply grabbed me by the armpits and lifted. I was carried out of the classroom horizontally, like a log being transported to a sawmill. My feet kicked uselessly in the air.
"This is kidnapping! This is a violation of school policy! I have a math test next period!"
"The Shadow Guard has already 'convinced' the math teacher to give you an A," one of the guards muttered, his voice sounding like two stones grinding together. "In exchange for a lifetime supply of silver-plated protractors. Silence, Consort."
"I am not a Consort! I'm a victim!"
Yuko followed behind us, spraying the hallway floor with a spray bottle every three steps. "Stay back! Maintain a six-foot radius of childhood-friendship! You're tracking 'Outside Tradition' into a sanitized learning environment!"
We didn't go to a fancy office. We went to the old equipment shed behind the gym—a place that usually smelled of moldy volleyballs and broken dreams. But as the guards kicked the doors open, I realized the Shindou-Ainsworth family didn't do 'moldy.'
The interior had been gutted and replaced with white silk screens, gold-leaf tatami mats, and a cooling system that made the air feel like the inside of a refrigerator. In the center of the room sat a single, jagged wooden stool.
"Sit," the guard commanded, dropping me onto the stool.
My tailbone made a sound that I'm fairly certain is illegal in most developed nations. I sat there, my knees knocking together, looking at the far wall. Three massive, 80-inch 8K monitors hung from the ceiling. On each screen was a face that looked like it had been carved out of a very old, very grumpy apple.
"The Board of Elders," Amilia whispered, kneeling perfectly on the tatami next to me. "The North Moon, the South Moon, and the... Gary."
"Gary?" I blinked.
"The West Moon was sick. Gary is the intern," Amilia explained.
On the center screen, a woman who looked approximately 400 years old adjusted her spectacles. She was knitting a sweater using needles made of what appeared to be ivory. In her lap sat a fluffy, extremely smug-looking orange tabby cat.
"Is... is that the hostage?" I asked, pointing a trembling finger.
"This is Sorrow," the North Moon Elder rasped, her voice sounding like a haunted cello. "We found him wandering near a convenience store. We have decided he is your cat. If you fail this interrogation, Sorrow will be forced to wear this itchy wool sweater for the rest of his nine lives. Do you want that on your conscience, Inuzuka Kyotaru?"
The cat looked at me. It yawned, revealing a set of teeth that suggested it was currently being fed better food than I had eaten in my entire life.
"I don't even like cats! I'm a dog person! Or a 'no-responsibilities' person!"
"Silence!" Gary (the intern) shouted from his screen. He was a guy in his twenties wearing a suit that was clearly three sizes too big. "The interrogation begins! Trial One: The Tea of Integrity!"
A guard stepped forward, holding a small, delicate ceramic cup. Steam rose from it in a way that suggested the liquid inside was currently boiling at the temperature of the sun's surface.
"In our family," the South Moon Elder explained, "a man's worth is measured by his ability to endure the 'Traditional Salt-Brew.' It is 10% tea leaves, 90% salt harvested from the tears of disappointed ancestors. Drink, Savior. Show us your integrity."
I looked at the cup. I looked at the Elders. I looked at Yuko, who was currently standing in the corner of the shed, holding a thermometer and looking like she was ready to perform emergency stomach surgery.
"If I drink this, my kidneys will shut down," I said. "This isn't integrity—this is a chemical war crime."
"Drink!" the Elders chanted in unison.
I took the cup. My hands shook so much the liquid sloshed, burning a small hole in my pants. I closed my eyes, thought of the sweet release of death, and downed the whole thing in one go.
For three seconds, there was nothing. Then, my entire world turned white. It felt like I had swallowed a handful of lit fireworks and then jumped into the Dead Sea. My tongue shriveled into a piece of leather. My throat felt like it had been scrubbed with sandpaper.
"GUAAAAAAH!" I gargoggled, my eyes bulging. "SALT! WHY IS THERE SO MUCH SALT?! I CAN SEE THE BEGINNING OF TIME AND IT'S SEASONED!"
"He didn't vomit!" Gary shouted, sounding impressed. "He kept the Integrity inside! Such a high capacity for internal corrosion!"
"It was a tactical choice!" Amilia cheered, clapping her hands. "His bad luck has conditioned his organs to thrive on misery! See, Elders? He is the perfect vessel for our salty heritage!"
I collapsed off the stool, twitching on the tatami. "Water... give me... non-lethal liquids..."
Yuko rushed forward, shoved a guard out of the way, and began pouring a bottle of 'Saintly Spring Water' down my throat. "Hold on, Kyotaru-kun! Don't go toward the light! The light is just a reflection of the salt crystals in your eyes!"
Once I had regained the ability to see shapes instead of static, the North Moon Elder leaned into her camera.
"Integrity is one thing," she hissed. "But power is another. You saved our Amilia from the 'Great Steel Beast'—the truck. Tell us, Boy of Sorrow. What was your strategy? What ancient martial art did you use to deflect the kinetic energy of the four-wheeled demon?"
I wiped the salt-sweat from my brow. "I... I tripped. I saw a bird, I looked up, my foot hit a loose paving stone, and I fell forward. The truck hit the brakes because it was only going two miles per hour. It was an accident. A pathetic, clumsy accident."
The room went silent. The Elders leaned in.
"A... 'Trip'?" the South Moon Elder whispered. "A 'Loose Stone'?"
"He's lying!" Gary yelled. "He's using the 'Divine Clumsiness' technique! He manipulated the environment to make his intervention look like a fluke, thereby lowering the truck driver's guard! He's a tactical genius!"
"No! I'm just a loser!" I screamed.
"I have proof of his loser-dom!"
Yuko stepped into the center of the room, slamming a 500-page, leather-bound binder onto the tatami. The sound was like a thunderclap.
"Elders of the Silver Moon! I am Yuko Yoshino, the one who has actually had to deal with this disaster for thirteen years! If you want to know the truth about Inuzuka Kyotaru, look at the 'Record of Universal Rejection'!"
She flipped the binder open. It was filled with high-resolution photos, many of which I didn't even know existed.
"Exhibit A!" Yuko shouted, pointing to a photo. "Kyotaru-kun, age 8, attempting to climb a tree and getting his pants caught on a branch, suspended for three hours while a squirrel stole his hat! Is this your 'Tactical Genius'?"
The Elders peered at the screen.
"Exhibit B!" Yuko continued, flipping the page. "Kyotaru-kun, age 12, trying to confess to a girl and accidentally sneezing so hard he gave himself a nosebleed and fainted into a trash can! Is this your 'Savior'?"
I covered my face with my hands. "Yuko... stop... you're killing me faster than the salt did..."
"Exhibit C!" she roared, her eyes wide with a terrifying, possessive zeal. "His GPA is exactly average! His athletic ability is 'Below Room Temperature'! He once got lost in his own backyard for forty-five minutes! He is not a hero! He is a walking, breathing 'Oops'! Please, for the love of all that is holy, take your tradition and leave him alone! He is 'my' project to fix!"
I looked up, waiting for the Elders to laugh and kick me out. I waited for them to realize that I was a waste of their silver-plated time.
Instead, the North Moon Elder began to cry. A single, crystalline tear rolled down her wrinkled cheek.
"Sublime..." she whispered.
"What?" I asked.
"The Misery Stat..." Gary muttered, his jaw dropping. "It's off the charts. We've never seen a human being so consistently bullied by reality itself. Do you see, Gary? Do you see the South Moon?"
"I see it!" the South Moon Elder cried. "He isn't a hero who fights fate. He is a man who 'fate itself' is obsessed with! If he marries into our family, he will act as a lightning rod! All the bad luck of the Shindou-Ainsworth will be sucked into him like a vacuum, leaving our Amilia to live a life of perfect, unbothered grace!"
"He is the Ultimate Scapegoat!" Gary cheered.
"Wait, what?!" I stood up, my knees shaking. "You want me to be a lightning rod? You want me to be the guy who gets hit by the cosmic bus so Amilia doesn't have to?!"
"It is the highest honor!" Amilia exclaimed, hugging me from behind. "You shall be the 'Sponge of Sorrow'! I shall be the 'Sun of Success'! Our children will be statistically perfect because you will have absorbed all the genetic failures!"
"I AM NOT A SPONGE!"
"The verdict is reached!" the North Moon Elder shouted, silencing the room. "Inuzuka Kyotaru, you have passed the Interrogation! You are officially promoted to 'Consort-in-Testing'!"
"I decline! I invoke my right to be a nobody!"
"To celebrate," Amilia cried, ignoring my existential crisis, "I shall perform the 'Dance of the Welcoming Flame'! It is a traditional Shindou-Ainsworth rite to bless the union!"
Before anyone could stop her, Amilia grabbed two ceremonial fans and began to twirl. She moved beautifully, a blur of silver and white—until her 'Traditional Clumsiness' kicked in.
She spun a bit too wide, her fan catching the edge of a standing brazier filled with hot coals. The brazier tipped over.
THUD.
Glowing coals spilled across the highly flammable, gold-leaf tatami mats. Within seconds, a line of fire began to race across the equipment shed.
"Fire! Fire in the hole!" Gary screamed on the monitor.
"The Integrity is burning!" the South Moon Elder wailed.
The Shadow Guards immediately panicked, but instead of putting out the fire, they began to perform a 'Traditional Retreat,' which involved bowing to the monitors while running backward.
"Sorrow! Save the hostage!" I yelled.
I lunged toward the monitor where the cat was. The cat, sensing the danger, didn't wait for a hero. It let out a hiss, scratched the guard holding the screen, and used my face as a launching pad to leap toward the open window.
"Gah! My eyes!" I tumbled into a pile of moldy volleyballs as the fire began to lick at the silk screens.
"Kyotaru-kun! Use the Saintly Water!" Yuko screamed, throwing a bucket at me.
She missed. The bucket hit me in the back of the head, knocking me flat onto the burning mats.
"I'm on fire," I whispered, the heat singeing my eyebrows. "This is it. This is the dark humor of the universe. I'm going to die in a gym shed because a silver-haired girl tried to dance and a childhood friend has bad aim."
Suddenly, a pair of strong hands grabbed my collar. Amilia pulled me up, her face covered in soot but her eyes bright with romantic delusion.
"Fear not, Consort! We shall leap through the flames together! It will be a 'Traditional Escape'!"
She didn't wait for an answer. She tucked me under her arm—how was she this strong?—and dove through the window just as the equipment shed's roof collapsed in a shower of sparks and volleyball fragments.
We landed in a heap on the damp grass of the school yard. I lay there, smelling like burnt rubber and expensive tea, watching the smoke rise into the afternoon sky.
"Is... is it over?" I wheezed.
"Hardly," a new voice said.
I sat up. Standing over us was a woman I had never seen before. She was tall, wearing a skin-tight black business suit and glasses that looked like they were made of frozen starlight. She carried a silver whip and a tablet PC.
The three Elders appeared on her tablet screen, their faces grave.
"Kyotaru Inuzuka," the North Moon Elder said. "Since you survived the fire and the salt, you have proven you are 'Grade-S Pitiable.' But you are unrefined. You lack the 'Traditional Polish' required to be a Shindou-Ainsworth husband."
"This is Instructor Kirara," Amilia whispered, her voice trembling for the first time. "The 'Marriage Reaper'."
"I have been sent to oversee 'Phase 2: The Domestic Combat Trial'," Kirara said, her voice like a scalpel. "I will be living in your house starting tonight. I will train you in the arts of 'Subservient Devotion,' 'Gourmet Suffering,' and 'Advanced Taxidermy Preparation.' My word is law. My whip is justice."
Yuko stepped forward, her face a mask of pure, unadulterated jealousy. "Living in his house? Another woman? I don't care if you're a 'Reaper' or a 'Marriage Instructor'! I'm his childhood friend! I'm the only one who gets to watch him suffer!"
"Then you shall be 'Student B'," Kirara said, tapping her tablet. "I shall train you both. If you fail my lessons, I will 'Traditionally' delete your school records and relocate you to a salt mine in Siberia."
I looked at the burning shed. I looked at the crazy heiress. I looked at the possessive 'Saint.' I looked at the woman with the whip.
"Gary," I whispered to the sky. "Gary, if you can hear me... please tell the cat I'm sorry."
I then proceeded to do the only logical thing left for a man in my position.
I fainted.