Public Morals Committee (5)
"I didn't give that to you so you could eat it, Chise."
"S-sorry."
"That was the only chocolate one I brought today."
Noah scolded her, one eyebrow twitching.
"Fail. Candy-holder."
"Ehh?!"
A bolt from the blue. It felt like lightning had struck her square on the head.
Chise clutched Noah's hem, on the verge of tears.
"I'm sorry... forgive me. I-I'll do the candy-holding properly next time."
"You can?"
"Yeah, yeah!"
"I'll believe you. Once."
I told her to hold it for a second. Why did she eat the whole thing?
Noah genuinely could not comprehend it.
"By the way, Noah. Why is this person crying?"
"Hweeeeh..."
Noah planted herself in front of Yuria with a thoroughly unpleasant look on her face.
"Quit crying, girl."
Noah's chilling stare only made Yuria wail louder.
"Hwaaang! Hic, kwaaaang!"
"That was way too harsh!"
Noah flinched, then whipped her head away.
"That's the weakling's fault."
Only then did Chise snap out of it and take in the scene. A middle-schooler was sobbing, clutching a half-torn uniform, and the floor was pressed into the shape of a person.
This mark...
A simulation was already running in Chise's head. A middle-schooler who kept running her mouth. Plus Noah's personality, which wouldn't cut anyone an ounce of slack even if they were an elementary schooler. That familiar imprint was almost certainly a shoulder throw — the lowest-intensity method Noah used when putting someone down. In short: the result of Noah being a menace.
It happened all the time, but this round had gone a bit far. Yuria's uniform was actually torn.
"Sniff... this uniform... it's the only one I have. Hic. Did you really have to do this...?"
Noah stiffly tried to slink away. Chise, face dark, caught her by the nape.
"Noah!"
Chise looked at her with a rare flash of genuine anger.
"What happened here. Explain."
Noah mumbled, shrinking.
"Power control... failed."
Getting hyped and throwing down had been fine. The problem was Noah had overlooked her own strength. More precisely, she had overlooked what it meant to be a Minamoto.
Whenever she got bored, she brawled with yakuza at the dojo. Her one real hobby, you could say. Anyway, that was the wellspring of her judo. The issue was those yakuza — the ones from the Minamoto Main Estate. They were a fighting force so strong it was almost rude to compare them to any other faction.
Noah had shoulder-thrown Yuria the same way she threw those men, and in the process — riiip — the blouse had torn.
Sorry. Now what.
Don't do something you'd have to apologize for in the first place! Noah would rather die than say she was sorry. But tearing the uniform of an already-poor middle-schooler and then going not my problem was a move even Satan wouldn't pull.
Cold sweat sliding down her forehead, Noah rummaged something out and held it forward.
"Buy a new one with this."
"Hweeee...eh?"
Even through her tears, Yuria's eyes snagged on the black card in Noah's hand. The so-called black card. It was more than enough to freeze, for a single instant, the tears of a dirt-poor kid who had been sobbing her heart out.
Noah said, awkward:
"Don't want it, then don't take it."
"Hwaaaaaang!"
Yuria wailed even louder. Noah, already hopeless against a girl's tears, fumbled the card right into her face.
"I-I said I'm sorry! Just buy a uniform with this!"
"Sniff."
Yuria sniffled and snatched the card. Pride or no pride, if she turned it down she couldn't even go to school tomorrow. Face burning red, she tucked it carefully into her pocket, then whispered in a mosquito's voice:
"...I'll only buy the uniform and give it back."
The crying had stopped, and moral compensation had been rendered. Noah exhaled in relief.
Chise could not believe her eyes.
Noah... apologized.
She had never, in her entire life, seen that happen.
She's never once apologized to me.
Chise's expression turned dangerous as she took hold of her own uniform jacket.
If I tear this, would I get an apology too?
She was, frankly, jealous of Yuria for receiving one.
"I-I'll be going, then."
Yuria clutched the half-torn uniform. She was fairly well-built, so the exposure was considerable.
Chise hurriedly called her back.
"Wait!"
She said, flustered:
"You're not seriously going out like that?"
"...It's not like I have a choice."
Eyes swollen from crying. A torn uniform. Scratches everywhere. A complete wreck. It was more than enough for someone to assume she'd been assaulted.
Chise glared at Noah, the damage worse than she'd thought. Noah coughed. Honestly, even she had to admit it was a bit much. She'd better fix this.
"Wait here. I'll bring a uniform."
"Huh? You have a spare?"
Chise had been about to offer a gym uniform. Noah opened the clubroom door.
"I'll borrow one from Coco."
"Ah...!"
Chise nodded. Right. That was an option.
Suzuki Kotone. Noah's assigned bodyguard, and secretary. The Minamoto were far more family-like than other clans, so the benefits were excellent. If a syndicate member had a child, they covered high school — even university tuition.
Suzuki was Noah's personal detail, so under Genji's order of "Don't grow up a meathead like the rest of them," she attended Saints, the most prestigious academy there was. Her grades, of course, were atrocious.
Hehe. Perfect. We can put Suzuki on the committee too.
Chise liked every last one of the Minamoto people. Suzuki was a little weird, but Chise liked her all the same. She said brightly:
"Noah! While you're at it, bring Suzuki with you! Let's put her on the Public Morals Committee."
"?"
Noah made the most disgusted face in the world. Chise laughed awkwardly.
"...Never mind."
Sorry, Suzuki.
Suzuki's loyalty to her master went so far past the line that she was... a bit of a pervert. Which was why Noah hated her guts.
Suzuki Kotone. She lived at the Minamoto Main Estate, and having been selected as Noah's bodyguard, she carried real weight even inside the organization. A real yakuza.
"Hey, Suzuki. New term's started — let's hit karaoke, build some camaraderie."
So when some pretty-boy slung an arm around her shoulder and started being unpleasant, she ought to have shut him down with something like "Shut up," "You wanna die?," or "Tomorrow morning your mom's corpse'll be floating in the ocean, so go fish it out nicely."
"That's... t-today... I... have something urgent..."
Suzuki had a communication disorder.
She was the kind of girl who'd pretend to drop into a full prostration just to steal a peek at Noah's underwear. The kind of girl with the guts to spy on her bathing in secret. But that was only because Noah was the little-sister figure she'd grown up with. Against classmates, she couldn't make a peep no matter what they said to her.
"Aww? Don't be so stiff. If we say we're going, you go, right?"
"What's with the high-and-mighty act. A gloomy girl like you, turning Taki down?"
Of course... I... want to go...
Hemmed in by thugs, shrinking against the wall, Suzuki didn't even register that she was being bullied. She actually wanted to go with them. Karaoke with friends! To Suzuki, that was practically sacred ground.
But with Noah in the dorms, the Minamoto were currently on emergency — no, ultra-emergency — footing. They were sweeping every nearby threat for her safety. She was busy with an extermination mission today too.
Appearances aside, Suzuki was an active yakuza. And not just any — she belonged to the Minamoto Main Estate, which was infamously hard to get into. She was talent. Of course she couldn't skip the operation.
"That's... that's..."
But in three years at Saints, this was the first time anyone had invited her to karaoke. She already didn't know how to refuse people, and the thought of kicking away such a precious chance with her own two feet had tears welling up.
"I think you've been misunderstanding something."
The thug caught Suzuki's chin and tilted it up, smiling nastily.
"A girl like you doesn't get a say—"
"Coco! I've been looking all over for you."
Just then, Noah walked up, face full of complaint.
"Where've you been wandering?"
"I'm sorry."
"Whatever. I need a favor. Lend me your uniform, Coco."
"Uniform?"
"You don't want to?"
Suzuki answered without a second's hesitation.
"I'll take it off right now."
"Please don't."
"Yes."
"Huh? Who's this tiny little brat?"
The thug put a hand on Noah's shoulder. Suzuki's eyes went wide.
He's dead.
But Noah only twitched an eyebrow. She pointed at the guy with a finger.
"You've been bugging me. Who is this?"
"Uh..."
Suzuki hesitated a moment.
He asked me to karaoke... so... a friend... right?
"He's a friend."
"No way. Coco has friends?"
"I-I'm not that much of a human piece of trash."
Noah said, as if genuinely surprised:
"You weren't?"
Suzuki was wounded.
"What's this, Public Morals Committee? Don't recognize the face... Hey! More importantly, who do you think you're ignoring?!"
The thug grabbed Noah's shoulder and spun her around.
Yep. He's dead. And he was my first friend...
Suzuki sincerely prayed for his soul. He was a friend, so she'd have to go to the funeral... right? Would the little oyabun give her permission.
But this time, too, Noah didn't get angry. Far from it — she clasped her hands in front of her and beamed.
"So you were Coco-nee's friend."
Suzuki couldn't quite parse the situation. It wasn't that Noah wasn't angry. Even now, her hands were trembling, faintly, with rage. She was definitely holding it in. And Suzuki had never seen Noah hold her temper. Never heard her talk like that, either.
Why...?
"Friend? Heh, yeah, we're friends. Gonna get even closer from here on. But who are you? Looks like Public Morals."
"Class 1-A. Minamoto Noah."
Don't tell me... she's holding back because I said he was a friend?
"Puhahaha! And here I thought— I got a little nervous seeing the armband, but you're not the uptight type, huh? Class 1-A young lady."
The thug snickered and poked Noah's cheek. He flicked his tongue, but decided not to push further. Class 1-A meant she had serious backing. He wasn't the type to reach for a rice cake he couldn't swallow. He cocked his head.
"We've got business with Suzuki. Would the noble young lady mind stepping aside?"
"...Yes."
Noah smiled and nodded.
"Coco-ne...e. I'll be in the clubroom, so change and come over."
"Yes. Young lady. I'll be right there."
Suzuki bowed. Through her narrowed field of vision, she watched Noah's back as she walked away, trembling with the effort of holding it in.
...I see. The little oyabun was looking out for me.
"Heh. Uninvited guest's gone. Shall we pick up where we left off, friend?"
A flush rose on Suzuki's face.
And she called me nee. Ah... I'm so happy. I should make today a commemorative holiday.
But first.
"Huh? You've been looking down this whole time, what are you— ghk!"
Suzuki seized the thug by the collar and slammed him into the wall. There was no focus in her eyes. Only killing intent.
"I'm sorry."
Suzuki drew a dagger from near her thigh. She grabbed the arm of the man pinned to the wall and twisted it, then braced it against her thigh, nice and ready to cut.
Shame it was my first friend.... But a person can live without one arm.
"I can't leave a hand that touched the young lady as it is."
"Gyaaaaah—!"
He thrashed in a seizure, but the arm Suzuki held didn't so much as twitch. The instant she was about to take the wrist with the dagger, Noah's words came back to her.
Whatever. I need a favor. Lend me your uniform, Coco.
"...Ah. Blood."
She wanted to sever the wrist right there, but then blood would get on the uniform. She could not give her master a uniform stained with filthy blood. In that case.
BANG!
Suzuki slammed him to the ground, lifted the arm, and drove her foot into it.
CRACK!
The arm bent at a grotesque angle. She didn't stop there. Face blank, she stomped on the wrist.
"Gya, aaaaaagh!"
That should have pulverized the bone. He would never use that hand again.
"A-a demon."
At that cruelty, the surrounding thugs backed away in fear. Suzuki dropped them one by one, silently, each with a single blow.
The last one left was a girl who looked like the girlfriend of the thug who'd first touched Noah's arm. She had already wet herself on the floor. Suzuki crouched down to meet her eyes — then, as if a buff had worn off, immediately dropped her gaze. Meeting Noah only kept it going for about five minutes.
"I-I-I didn't do anyth—"
"I'm... sorry. I'll... kill you... gently... instead."
Suzuki took her by the collar.
"Ghk... ghk."
The girl clawed at Suzuki's arm, but it didn't budge an inch. Suzuki held the pose, looking at her the way you'd look at a fly thrashing in a puddle. Before long the girl's body went limp. Suzuki let go of the collar and stood.
I hope... they ask me to karaoke... again.... Unlikely, though?
Once again, Suzuki had failed at making friends, and she was depressed.