Chương 18: Into The Routine

A dull headache throbbed behind Kurisu's eyes as the drone of the morning periods battered him. Sitting through the early classes, he wondered if this constant struggle to decipher the foreign language would ever end. The ELL classroom provided a brief respite, the slower English offering his mind a moment of peace. That respite was gone the moment he stepped back into the hallways on his way to Biology, before slipping into the science room to take the seat beside Kenji just as the bell rang.

Kurisu set his phone on the desk between them." Renshū shita ka?" Rubbing his eyes, Kenji looked tired but lacked his previous anxiety.

"Yeah, I practiced," he muttered, keeping his voice lowered to avoid the scrutiny of Mr. Welter.

"I was up all night playing with that Tanden thing, flexing it and stuff."

"Your vigilance is commendable, but you must not invite exhaustion," Kurisu said, giving Kenji a nod of approval.

"A warrior requires rest." Mr. Welter tapped the whiteboard, launching into a lecture on cellular respiration that quickly outpaced Kurisu's comprehension and the technology he was relying on, so he instead focused on the boy beside him, noting that Kenji's aura rested far more calm this day.

He maintained the internal flex well, only slipping on occasion and releasing a brief flicker of energy into the air, a remarkable improvement for one day, though they still had a long way to go before the boy was ready for any true manifestation. Lunch allowed a retreat to the shadows of the old schoolhouse again. Kenji sat on a concrete bench unwrapping a sandwich while Kurisu settled onto the grass.

"Eat," Kurisu instructed in formal English.

"Then we practice." Taking a bite of his sandwich, Kenji shook his head, speaking around the mouthful.

"You're a slave driver, you know that? Most people just talk about video games at lunch." As Kurisu closed his eyes, he extended his Zanshin outward to gauge the boy's Ki. He found the orange hue of Fire mixed with the white of Light. Was that a flash of gold flickering amidst the Kaki and Kōki? Unable to be certain, he chalked the anomaly up to the visual byproduct of the two elements combining within the Tanden.

"Focus," Kurisu instructed.

"Flex the center and swirl it. You must keep your Ki contained and under absolute control." Kenji sighed, dropping his sandwich wrapper onto the bench.

"Yeah, yeah. Keep it clenched." He closed his eyes, pulling the energy taut to contain it within his core. With the bell signaling the start of a double mathematics block, they dodged around the other students, forcing their way through the halls. Once inside the math room, Kurisu noted that today Ms.

Addison wore low-rise trousers paired with a light blue blouse, attire that presented no issues when she stood still at the front of the room, but the moment she moved or stretched upward to write a variable, her midriff would show or a pink band would peek out from the top of her trousers.

He shook his head at the silently drooling boys in the front row again, questioning if the teacher remained completely oblivious to her wardrobe choices or if she made them on purpose, observing that compared to his other studies, this class remained remarkably quiet. Sitting next to Kurisu, Kenji fared no better. His jaw slacked. His eyes glazed. The tension he had practiced holding suddenly collapsed, spilling a wave of heat across his shoulders as his concentration broke.

"Oh man," Kenji whispered, leaning toward Kurisu without breaking eye contact with the front of the room.

"That is proof of a benevolent universe." Glancing from Kenji to Ms. Addison, Kurisu noted the exposed undergarment, his eyebrow twitching at the bleeding energy. A true warrior would maintain absolute discipline against such trivial distractions. With a sigh, he reversed his pencil, reaching over to drive the eraser into Kenji's temple with another quick thrust. Kenji whipped around in his seat, his body coiled. One fist rose near his jaw while the other dropped to guard his ribs.

Looking at Kurisu, he mouthed the words: That's twice now. I'm going to fuck you up. Incapable of reading lips in English, Kurisu recognized the universal intent regardless. The flare of energy accompanying the threat caught his attention. The slacked leakage of lust vanished, replaced by a focused spike of aggression. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings. Intriguing. It appears the spirit of a wolf dwells within this one after all.

In the middle row, a student relentlessly poked the spine of the boy sitting in front of him. Reaching his breaking point, the victim snapped.

"Stop it," the boy said, drawing the phrase out into a long, nasally whine as he turned his body to face his tormentor.

"You're disrupting the learning environment!" The class tittered, and Brad, who had been glaring at Kurisu all period, turned around, fixing his eyes on the kid as his face twisted into a scowl.

"Dude," Brad boomed across the quiet classroom.

"Don't ever speak again!" The command, so unnecessarily hostile, triggered a wave of laughter from the class as the kid owning the nasal voice shrank back into his seat. So there is some variance after all, Kurisu thought. I had begun to wonder if every day in this environment would serve as a perfect mirror of the last. With her hands raised in an attempt to placate the class, Ms. Addison raised her voice.

"Okay! Okay, that is enough! Brad, turn around. Kenji, settle down. Let's focus on the math, please." Glancing sideways at Kenji as the boy slowly lowered his fists and rubbed the spot on his temple where the eraser had connected, Kurisu breathed evenly.

"Focus," Kurisu whispered. Kenji glared at him.

"I hate you," he whispered back.

"So much." After the bell released them, Brad cast dark looks in Kurisu's direction as they made their way to the gym until Coach Whalen blew his whistle.

"Alright, listen up! Yesterday was strength. Today is agility. We're hitting the courts. Basketball. 5-on-5. Let's go!" Looking around before finally focusing on Kenji, Kurisu furrowed his brow as he processed the word." Basketball?" As he followed Kenji onto the courts, he watched the other students grab the orange, pebbled spheres from a rack. Kurisu picked one up. Noting the light, air-filled rubber, he squeezed it to test the density.

"Weapon?" Kurisu asked, presenting the ball to Kenji. Kenji sighed, tightening his shoes.

"No. Not a weapon. Don't throw it at anyone's head." Kurisu nodded.

"Objective?"

"Put the ball in the hoop," Kenji said, pointing to the net suspended ten feet in the air.

"But you can't just run with it. You have to bounce it, dribble. If you run without bouncing, it's traveling. The whistle blows, and you look stupid." Kurisu looked at the hoop, then at the ball.

"Bounce. Run. Insert."

"Basically," Kenji said.

"How do you not know this?" At the sound of the next whistle, Kurisu stepped onto the court alongside Kenji while Brad stood on the opposing side, looking ready to commit murder. As the game began, Kurisu intercepted a pass, noting how the rubber squished under the pressure of his grip. He looked at the floor, recalled Kenji's instruction to bounce, and drove his arm downward.

With the crack of a matchlock musket, the ball detonated on impact, plunging the court into silence as orange strips of rubber flew across the floor like fluttering scraps of washi paper. Kenji slowly covered his face with his hands, staring at the ruined ball.

"And you killed it," he whispered.

"You murdered the ball." Jogging over, Coach Whalen's wide eyes shifted from the destroyed equipment to Kurisu. Tossing a fresh ball toward him, the coach watched him catch it gingerly.

"Okay," the Coach said, his voice cracking slightly.

"Just... easy on the equipment there, bud."

"Apology," Kurisu said. For the rest of the class, Kurisu intercepted passes, froze, and looked at Kenji for instruction, usually getting the ball stolen in the process. On the rare occasions he maintained possession, he bounced the replacement ball with exaggerated care and immediately passed it off to Kenji, who looked like he was being tackled each time he caught it. On defense, however, Kurisu acted as a wall.

Watching Brad drive down the lane and drop a shoulder to ram him, Kurisu simply rooted his feet and braced for impact, causing the freshman to slam into him, bounce off, and land flat on his back.

"Foul!" Brad screamed.

"He's blocking!"

"He's on defense!" Coach Whalen yelled.

"Get up, Brad!" Looking down at the freshman, Kurisu offered a hand and held out the ball.

"Ball." With a scowl, Brad slapped Kurisu's hand away before rolling over and getting to his feet. Kenji walked up, patting Kurisu on the arm.

"Okay, Shaq. Let's just stand under the hoop and look scary. That's your job now." Kurisu gave a short nod.

"Defend Tower. Understood."