Founding Members (4)
"Where... am I?"
Masaru opened his eyes. Realizing he was lying on a white bed, he pushed himself upright.
The infirmary?
That was when his gaze met the girl reading a book right beside him.
"You're awake?"
"Who are you?"
"Fujiwara."
Chise answered with zero effort and smiled. Her eyes, however, were not smiling at all. They looked half-dead.
Masaru lay back down. Staring at the ceiling, it suddenly hit him.
"I lost. To a girl who barely comes up to my chest."
"You call that losing?"
Chise turned a page with a soft rustle.
"Even to an amateur like me, it looked like you got one-sidedly beaten. President of the Black Society, Mr. Sasakawa."
"You know who I am?"
"It's not that I know you specifically. I simply memorized every student's information."
She never once looked at him as she went on.
"The Minamoto people call Noah the Little Boss. Did you know that?"
"...I didn't."
"Of course you didn't. That's why you tracked mud all over our home. We'll be billing you separately for the clubroom you wrecked."
Masaru, of course, had only been on the receiving end of that wrecking.
"Right. So now you're going to tell me why you're here."
"She's called the Little Boss in the organization because she's already been recognized. Not by Uncle Gen— not by an order from the head of the Minamoto family, but by Noah's own power. So there was no need for you to work yourself into a frenzy coming here to test her."
Chise snapped her book shut.
"That's all I have to say. I'll be going now. Even breathing the same air as a man like you is unpleasant."
She stood and turned away without the slightest hesitation. Masaru spoke before she reached the door.
"Is everyone in the Minamoto a monster like that?"
It sounded like a simple question, but self-reproach ran through it — the voice of someone who had just felt the ceiling of his own talent. Chise answered with something like pity.
"The world is a wide place. If you belonged to the Minamoto, you would be nothing more than ordinary."
She never looked back. A moment later she was gone from the infirmary.
Masaru stared at the door she had vanished through for a long time, then clenched a fist in front of his face. The strength wouldn't come. He couldn't even remember the last time he had taken a beating like this. He looked out the window and muttered,
"...I see."
The fire of his ambition had been dying. Anyone feels that way once they've reached their goal. From the moment he became president of the Black Society — from the moment his success was locked in — Masaru may have lost interest in the world.
But that was a goldfish in a bowl. The foolishness of judging a world he had never seen beyond the glass.
The world was wide.
Focus slowly sharpened in his dazed eyes. It seemed he had something he wanted to do, right now.
"No."
Noah, mid-brush, narrowed her eyes.
"You broke my mug."
Masaru had come asking to be taken under her command. The look she gave him was ice-cold.
"Be grateful you're still breathing. If it weren't for Chise, you'd be dead."
Having said her piece, she launched into an angry bout of brushing. She'd been in a good mood from a full stomach, too. Looking at Masaru just stressed her out all over again.
Still bent at the waist, Masaru thought it over carefully.
...A mug.
It didn't seem like she was angry over something as simple as a broken cup. Come on. Who in the world would be?
Someone of her caliber. If it were that precious, she wouldn't have failed to dodge.
And there was no way the one they called the Little Boss wouldn't know that he would one day belong to the Minamoto. It had been a test. Whether he was someone she could believe in. Someone she could trust.
By shattering the mug that symbolized that trust, Masaru had failed.
How stupid.
He ground his teeth. Not only had he failed to recognize the test — he had insulted her on top of it. If some vastly weaker nobody had run his mouth like that, Masaru himself would never have forgiven it.
Then what... am I supposed to do?
He had grasped her true intent, but no proper alternative came to mind. He had always been the one granting forgiveness, never the one begging for it.
After a long struggle, he bit his lip and spoke.
"What must I do?"
Ugyaaaaah.
Chew, chew, spit. Noah gargled at the outdoor drinking fountain, glared at him, and said,
"Put it back the way it was."
She meant buy the same one. Masaru took it another way.
...Put it back.
The mug meant trust. In other words, she was telling him to restore that trust. Which meant: prove yourself.
The one proof he could offer. Only one thing came to mind. The Black Society, where the infighting was getting worse. She must mean for him to settle that first.
A broken mug couldn't hold anything, after all.
"—!"
Struck by a great revelation, Masaru was overcome. To be given a chance worth a thousand pieces of gold after such a foolish judgment. To be able to swear loyalty to a lord this merciful was a tremendous fortune.
"Thank you for opening my eyes. I will carry out your order, without fail."
Noah looked at Masaru, burning with grim resolve, and thought,
What is wrong with this idiot?
If you broke it, of course you go buy a replacement. That was just common sense. Yeah. This guy was incomprehensible.
"Here! The Bubbly Marshmallow mug."
Noah took the mug Chise had bought.
"You said you'd get one — this is it?"
"Mhm. You won't use anything but that cup, right? I picked up the one I ordered yesterday."
Noah turned the mug this way and that, and once she confirmed it was the exact same model, she broke into a happy smile.
It was a kind of compulsion. She had to use the things she was already using. She wasn't terribly picky — something similar was usually enough — but something completely different? She couldn't use that. It was a personality that had carried over from her previous life.
Anyway, the mug situation was settled. Noah immediately forgot all about Masaru.
"...You're taking this surprisingly well, Minamoto-senpai."
"It was a cup I gave her in the first place. I bought the same one, so it's fine now."
Yuria let out a sigh of relief and sat down. On the way back with Chise and the mug, she had heard something, and she needed to bring it up now. Relieved that Noah's mood had recovered, she broached the subject.
"Minamoto-senpai. I have something to say."
Yuria was deadly serious.
"What?"
"The Public Morals Committee deadline. It's today."
"And?"
Yuria slammed the table and shot to her feet.
"Don't just say and! This is a crisis!"
Chise fidgeted with a table leg, a worried look on her face. Yuria shouted.
"Fujiwara-senpai, please take this a little seriously! And it won't break from that, okay?!"
"B-but I've never seen a table made of wood before."
"How rich is this person...?!"
Yuria swallowed a useless breath and calmed herself a little. She sat back down primly.
"If this keeps up, something unprecedented is going to happen. The Public Morals Committee is part of the student council, but there's one per grade. If we don't meet the minimum membership, we get dissolved!"
"Why are we short on people? I told you I'd stick someone in."
Noah lay down across Chise's thigh with a bored look. Chise flushed, playing with Noah's cheek as she spoke.
"Well, even counting Suzuki-san, that's only four people total... We need one more."
Noah frowned. Problems she had shoved aside for a moment came flooding back — the member problem.
"And we have to find an advisor teacher, too."
"...A sensei?"
"Yeah. They said that's really important too."
"Of course it is! You need a faculty advisor's permission for any off-campus activities. And... well, there's the budget issue, too."
Yuria brought up the budget timidly. Last year she had been the lowest of the low. Even when there was money to throw around, she never got a piece of it. It was her own fault for turning everything down out of pride, sure. But this time was a little different. Hadn't she become a member almost from the very start? An officer, in crude terms. She would actually get to enjoy the budget this time.
"W-we don't need to worry about that part for now. Among the student council positions, the Public Morals Committee is an extremely important post. It's a huge plus on a teacher's evaluation, so plenty of people want it. The urgent problem is members..."
"By the way, Icchi."
Noah's voice turned sharp.
"I seem to remember telling you to go find that last person yourself. Didn't I?"
An arrow of undeniable fact buried itself in Yuria's chest. She turned her head stiffly and made her excuse.
"I-I couldn't find anyone among the middle schoolers who would meet your standards, Minamoto-senpai."
"Hah. I didn't tell you that because I cared about standards. I just meant grab someone you can roughly trust. I wasn't asking for talent."
"You say that... but I know that's not true."
Yuria's expression was awkward. Chise, who had learned the art of reading people from a young age, saw through to the truth at once.
"Ichinose-san doesn't have any friends, does she?"
This one went deep. An arrow that pierced the heart so casually, without a shred of malice — there was no enduring that. Clutching her chest, Yuria collapsed onto the table.
"Yeah, that is a problem."
Noah sat up from Chise's lap. Chise looked disappointed.
Who would be good?
She hadn't told Yuria to bring someone for no reason. After seeing the caliber of the kids who'd come for interviews, she hated them. She hated them too much. Every last one of them failed to rise above the category of gay guys and orangutans.
That guy from yesterday was at least usable, though.
Noah smirked. If he was in a similar class to Suzuki, he'd make a perfect stress-relief punching bag. People who could take her punches for real were rare. And he didn't seem to die easily, so she could always use him as a human shield if it came to it.
No. He's still disgusting.
The arrogant bastard had broken her mug, too. And more than anything, she hated that he was good-looking. If anyone asked why, she could say it proudly: inferiority complex. It was frustrating, okay? If she was going to be born, she wanted a body like that.
Guess I'll just have to steal someone from the Black Society...
Just then, the clubroom door rattled open.
"Bl...?"
"Foolish man. It seems you don't remember my warning."
Masaru walked calmly toward Noah, his body covered in blood. He dropped to both knees without preamble, placed both hands on his thighs, and bowed his head.
"I have completed your order."
He lifted his head. The tension was written all over him. He drew a deep breath and spoke with grim determination.
Yuria had no idea what was going on, but she caught one thing: he wanted to join the Public Morals Committee. She could not let them find out she had no friends.
"W-wouldn't that be fine? We were just short one person, weren't we? Right? Minamoto-senpai."
Yuria was desperately earnest right now.
Then Masaru's pupils shook as he saw the mug sitting on the table. He clenched his jaw.
"...So you've restored the trust, but you cannot forgive the discourtesy."
In that case. As if coming to some decision, he seized his right arm firmly with his left, then twisted it at a painful angle. He meant to break it then and there.
"Ghk...!"
Noah knocked him aside.
That's nauseating.
But this latest display hadn't been bad. She admitted it readily.
"Fine. I'll forgive you, seeing as you meant well. Join the Public Morals Committee."
Masaru sprang up and prostrated himself.
"Yes. I will not disappoint you."
"The hell are you talking about?"
Noah blinked.
"I was talking about her. Didn't you bring her as a gift?"
Everyone in the clubroom looked in one direction. A cute girl with a short bob, only her face poking through the doorway.
"Eh? M-me?"
It was Atsuki, a captain of the Black Society.
"Yeah. You. You look like you'd do as you're told, so I like you. Sign here."
A rather long silence followed. In that time, Masaru froze solid as stone. Chise, apparently finding him fascinating, poked him with a finger from the side.
Crunch.
"Oh. He broke."
And just like that, Masaru crumbled into dust.