The L-Word (Kenji)

The L-Word

04-10-2012




It's nearly curfew and I'm stumbling down my hallway after a wonderful date with Hanako.  I can't deny it anymore, I definitely felt it.  It's unmistakable.  Love.  Oh God, I'm in love.  I feel like I have to tell someone or else I'd scream it at the top of my lungs on the school roof to let the world know.  The latter is sort of frowned upon at Yamaku though.  So I dash down to Kenji's door since he's, like, the only guy I socialize with further than a nod or friendly greeting.

I hear the familiar disabling of way more than necessary locks, and my bespectacled hallmate appears.

The legally blind bastard leans in far closer than I'm comfortable with, “Hisao, you're late. In fact, you've been late a lot recently.”  Geez, that unmistakable stench.  How much damn garlic does he ingest?  I always hesistated to ask for fear of a diatribe on vampires.  Feminist vampires, probably.

“Are you spying on me, Kenji?”

“No.”  A suspiciously quick reply as if the answer was prepared beforehand.

“That's exactly what a spy would say when confronted on whether or not he's a spy.”

“Okay, you got me. You're a fast learner, Nakai.”

“I learned from the best,” and we brofisted. “Anyways, I have to tell you.  I have to tell somebody.  It's rather important.  At least to me,”  I confided.

His smile quickly disappeared and he looks genuinely concerned.  “What is it?” He ask while the creases on his forehead dance like an epileptic being tazored.

“Kenji … I think I've succumbed to the L-Word.”

A look of confusion now on his face, “L-Word? … Lesbian?”

“No, Kenji, not lesbian.”

“Licorice? Lucifer?”  I have to stop him before he goes through every word that starts with “L” that he knows.

“Love, Kenji, I'm in love!”

He furrows his brows, “Hisao, you've fallen for Ikezawa's feminine wiles?”

“I'm 'fraid so.”

“Be careful, Hisao, I don't trust her. She's so … mysterious.”

“I know. That's what makes her so …” I trailed off with a lovestruck smile plastered on my face.

“I don't trust mysterious people. They're so … mysterious. They could be spys or possess the knowledge of long lost forms of karate passed down through generations within a secret sect tasked with the protection of the art of said forbidden karate techniques.  Or maybe kung-fu.”

“I don't think she knows karate, Kenji.”

"Or kung-fu!"

"I'm pretty sure that's a 'no' as well."

“Secretly!” he interjects, “Besides, what do you really know about her? Where was she born? Where was she raised? Do the ancient text refer to her as 'The Chosen One?' I bet you've never even met her parents, have you?”

“Um, Kenji, she kind of don't have parents. Well, she did have parents … but … she's an orphan. She grew up in an orphanage.”

“An orphanage, eh?"  I'm relieved he dropped the Hanako being a decedent of a secret martial arts cult that pass down a forbidden form of karate of kung-fu or something subject.  For now.

"You know, Hisao, that reminds me, I'm not allowed within 500 feet of an orphanage. Same for playgrounds and elementary schools. You know, because of the children.”  Okay, I'm not so relieved now.

“Uh, I'm afraid to ask why.”

“Last year. Took over a daycare. Locked the doors and told those 3 to 5 year olds it's Battle Royale and there will only be one winner/survivor.”

“Yeah, I'm right to be afraid.”

“Nobody was killed, only one kid got stabbed with a knife because I was showing them an example and one kid got sick from eating glue. The local media attributed to some bullshit Battle Royale rip off from America called Hunger Games or something.  Can you believe that bullshit?”

“Huh. I guess I'm going to sleep and try to forget about that terrible image now.”

“Alright, good night, bro.”