Akira Route - Act 2-1 - A New Beginning

Why did I have to sit next to the window?

I don't even remember most of what happened yesterday. I woke up around noon because of the festival outside and moped around looking for something to do. Then I ran into Kenji, he wanted someone to hang out with, so I decided to go with him, against my better judgment.

Then there was a bottle of Jack involved. Not sure how he got it, or where it came from, but I didn't say no when he offered to share. The rest of it is the hazy part. I remember something about a manly picnic, and then Kenji tried hugging me or something. There was a piece of broken fence behind me, that stands out in my memory for some reason, so I think I hobbled out of the way and fell over on my back.

Now, I'm sitting in science class, unable to pay attention as my brain revolts against its mortal coil, pulsating against my skull as if it were a cage. It doesn't help that my eyes feel like they're being squeezed by my own eyelids.

“Hisao, would you like to read the next paragraph?” Mutou calls out, having sensed my lack of focus on his lecture.

Crap, here we go.

My throbbing eyes scramble about the text in the book in front of me, looking for even a semblance of a clue as to where we could have been. All I can do is take a random guess, so...

“The second law of thermodynamics states that in general the total entropy of any system will not decrease other than by-”

“Where are you reading? We're on page 381, six chapters behind thermodynamics.”

Flip the page flip the page flip the page flip the page...

“A substance may dissociate without necessarily producing ions. As an example, the molecules of table sugar dissociate-”

“Keep trying, you're getting warmer.” Mutou interupts.

“In general, ionization can be broken down into two types: sequential ionization and-”

“Too far back.”

“I give up.”

“At least you tried. Try to pay attention in chemistry. It would be a shame if we got to the next unit and had a couple of students leftover who still didn't understand this stuff.”

The next victim is called, a girl named Miki Miura, who fumbles around just the same before correctly guessing the right spot and reading from there.

It's been a week since I got here. I barely know the name of anyone here, and I haven't really socialized with anyone other than Misha, and by extension, Shizune. I guess Kenji counts, although as much as it pains me to say this; I wish he didn't.

Maybe I should have joined a club? There was a literature club, an art club, even a light music club I'm sure I could have tire-ironed my way into. Student council at the very least would have given me something to do, and two girls to talk to.

I'm barely given enough time to fall deeper into depression before the bell rings. I gather my books and decide to head off to lunch on my own, having already been dismissed by Shizune and Misha as they set out on their council duties.

However, I'm only able to make it one step past the teacher's desk before I'm called back.

“Hisao, were there any problems today? You seemed pretty out of it.”

Well, besides being hungover on half a bottle of whiskey, everything seems to be okay.

“I'm just tired. I wasn't able to get a whole lot of sleep after the festival.”

“That's it? Really? I was worried for a second there.” Mutou responds, his demeanor changing from worried to relieved.

“Did you enjoy the festival?” he continues.

“It was... okay. I didn't really do much.” I respond.

“Well at least you got out of your room and had some fun. I'm sorry if it seems like I'm cracking open a can of worms here, but you've seemed pretty depressed ever since you got here. I'm glad to see you're trying to fit in.”

Yeah, trying to fit in. That's definitely what I'm doing. Running away from the girls who want me to be in their group, refusing to push myself to get healthy and at least get a foot up on this disease, and ignoring every chance I've gotten to be friends with someone.

“I don't think that's the case.” I reply, reeling back as I realize that my subconscious just vocalized.

“What do you mean?” Mutou asks.

Oh geez. Here we go.

“I haven't really gotten to know anyone past introductions. I feel like I'm not welcome here, somehow."

"I just don't know what I'm doing, what I should be doing, or anything like that.” I confess.

It hurts to say, but it's true, at any rate. I haven't been doing much of anything, besides keeping up with schoolwork. And that's all I'm good for at this point.

“That is a problem, hmm...” Mutou replies, scratching his chin in thought.

“I'm not sure if I can give you any advice that you haven't already heard or thought of yourself -- I'm a science teacher, not a counselor.”

Yeah, that's what I thought.

“If you want something to do though, you can fill in for a colleague of mine. Mr. Clarke, the head of the science department here, and I normally go to a small symposium in the city. He had some business to take care of back home, so his seat will be empty. And, well... it wouldn't cost you anything to go in his stead.”

“I suppose it's something to get my mind off everything. I'll think about it.” I answer, with a bit of reluctance.

“That's what I like to hear. I'm going to try to leave from here at 7 A.M on Saturday, is that good with you?"

I nod my head.

"It shouldn't be very crowded, only a thousand or so people. Oh, and there's a dress code for the lecture I want to attend, do you have something nice to wear?”

"Something nice? How nice? The only formal wear I thought to bring with me was a pair of slacks and a dress shirt. I made sure to bring that sweater vest I got for Christmas last year as well."

He winces at the sound of the words 'sweater vest' for some odd reason.

"Well, this is a pretty high class event, so a suit is advisable. Not a tuxedo though, that's a little too much."

"What if I don't have a suit?" I ask.

It's the truth. I don't have a suit. I've never really done anything that warranted me having to dress up in something that nice.

"Every good man deserves a suit. I think this would be a great time for you to go out and buy one!"

And how much is that going to cost? They get pretty expensive, from what I've heard. It's on Saturday, so I won't be able to borrow one from my Dad. And then there's the matter of the fact that I don't know any guys here well enough to just pop up and ask to borrow their expensive formal wear.

"Trust me, a nice suit goes a long way when you're eighteen." he adds on upon hearing my distressed sigh.

"Alright, will do." I answer, unable to think of anything else to add to the conversation.

At this point, Mutou starts shuffling the stack of papers into his briefcase with a new-found fervor, giving me an invigorated wave as I step out the door.

Well, I guess now I'm going to a science symposium with Mutou.

Science has always been my strong point, more on the chemistry side than anything, but all science is good to me. I've never really shown an interest in it though. At the very least; it gives me something to do. Maybe I'll find what I want to do with my life while I'm there.

My mind flutters back and forth between ideas as I try to decide what to do for lunch. Or what not to do for lunch, rather, since I still feel a little sick from last night. Some fresh air would be better at this point, so the roof seems like the best plan of action.

I round the corner and make my way to the end of the hall, into the stairwell, following the path I've already imprinted in my mind. It only takes a few flights of stairs to carry me to my destination, a land of fresh air and sunl-

Agh, my eyes.

I wince as the natural light of the cosmos overwhelms my sight, having to shield my face as I step out onto the expanse of the school roof.

A deep breath of air fills my lungs, helping clear my head enough to realize that there's still a mound of blankets on the other end of the building.

It's not that I want to make sure Kenji gets them, but knowing my luck; it's likely that the school would link the empty bottle of whiskey back to us somehow. I step over to pick up the blanket, only to notice that there's something weighing it down.

“Don't tell me...”

A sharp tug to the 'picnic' cloth causes a stir, and then a loud yell.

“DON'T TAKE MY COCOON, ASSHOLE!”

“Kenji, what the hell are you still doing up here?”

“YOU BETTER RUN, I KNOW JUJ- whoa what are you doing in my room?”

I'm glad to know that I woke up a lot better off than Kenji. It's roughly noon, meaning he's missed all of his morning classes – not that I think he cares much about that. He's also sunburned on his forehead, thanks to the patch of skin that was hanging out of the blanket.

“You're still on the roof.”

He gives a light chuckle before adjusting his glasses and looking around.

“This is all within acceptable parameters.” he answers.

“We got completely hammered last night. You're waking up on the school roof at almost one in the afternoon.”

“Acceptable parameters.” he repeats.

“Parameters for what?” I ask, knowing full well what happens when I ask questions like this.

“You think that's the first time I've gotten drunk? At least the school roof is safe. No one comes up here. You should have been there when I woke up in front of that crazy music store in town. I'm still amazed that I didn't get mugged or... kidnapped by feminists or... something.”

This is a normal thing for Kenji? As in, every week he breaks out a bottle of aged liquor and goes nuts? Does he always do it alone or are there others? I doubt he downs an entire bottle of alcohol by himself. Maybe he has a hidden list of companions, and I just happened to be his target for the week.

I wonder who the others could be.

“That sounds... adventurous.” I comment.

“Naw, man. I'm not an adventurer. I'm like some kind of messiah. Preaching the evils of female supremacism. Spreading the word about the feminist menace.”

“The femenace. I'm gonna use that from now on.”

In a surprising act of athleticism: he rolls back, pushes off with his hands, and lands flat on his feet; brushing the dust off of his school jacket as if to boast 'hangover? What hangover?'

“But whatever, dude. I'm gonna go ahead and go, I got stuff to meet, places to do, people to go, that kind of thing.”

He bends over and scoops up his picnic blanket, leaving the empty bottle of whiskey on the ground; a caramel-colored monolith standing over the plain gray concrete expanse. It's artistic, in a way.

“And remember man, there's these charts you need to see.”

With that last final comment, he disappears into the stairwell, only an aura of confusion left to signify that he was ever here.

**************************

The sound of exhaust spewing into the air fills my ears as the bus takes off, carrying myself and about thirty other people into the city a couple of miles away.

I've actually been needing a suit for a while now, so this is a good thing. My parents approved as well, so I shouldn't have to go without food for a month to make up for it.

Now all that's left is the matter of finding out where I should buy it. I don't need anything of super-high quality just yet, but at the same time I don't want a suit that's so poorly made that I'll get laughed out of any formal event I ever attend.

It doesn't take as long as I was anticipating to reach the city, so any planning I was planning to do will have to happen while I'm on the run. There's three fine clothing stores here, according to some research I did before I left. Two of them are in the mall, and there's one a couple of blocks down the road from here, next to an antique shop.

Regardless of how much I may have looked at the map of this city, it's still a little different walking through it in person. And what does any sensible person do when they're walking around a city they're unfamiliar with?

“I am so lost.” I comment aloud, unable to discern anything at all from the intersection before me.

There's two roads here, 'Route 131' and 'Kanpawa Ave.' For all I know, there could just be a big wooden sign labeled 'here be dragons' and I wouldn't be any better or worse off.

The sidewalk scrolls by under my feet, and yet I feel as though I'm getting no closer to my destination. I walk past plenty of shops, apartment complexes, and other such buildings, but no fine wear stores or anything along that line.

It's not like I mind, though. I grew up exploring the city. If anything, this is a welcome change, I'm back in my own element! The smell of diesel fuel burning, the clutter-clatter of each pedestrian that passes by, the sight of the skyline...

Okay it's not the most amazing thing, but at least it's familiar.

“Zero RC, Belethor's General Goods, Patches' Pre-Owned hardware...”

Ah! There it is! 'Lyra's Fine Wear.'

The front doors have been propped open, welcoming me into the world of expensive business wear. A single counter rests in the center of the store, surrounded by rows upon rows, racks upon racks of every kind of formal clothing one could imagine. Ties of all shapes and sizes, suits of every size and make, dresses of so many colors it boggles the mind.

I wonder how much business they have to get to justify carrying this much on hand. I'm also curious about how much of it is only for display, as indicated by the absence of any kind of attendant at the front desk. In fact, the only other person here is a rather tall woman with messy blonde hair.

The front counter is relatively empty compared to the rest of the store. A measuring tape, a coffee cup filled with safety pins, and a cash register. As well as a small silver bell with a sign reading 'ring for service'

However, as soon as I reach up to 'ring for service', a voice stops me.

“Lyra's out back fixing something up for me, she'll be back in a minute or two.”

“Ah, alright.” I answer by instinct.

A few minutes pass by without incident, only the ticking of the clock there to indicate that time hasn't slowed to a standstill.

Black, pinstriped slacks, a white dress shirt with a black tie pulled snug below her collar, and a jacket thrown over her arm? Her dress style is something else. It's almost androgynous, in a way. If not for the slight curvature of her figure in all the 'right' areas and the shape of her facial features, I think anyone could mistake her for a male.

And yet for some reason I can't help but sneak a glance every chance I can. She's captivating, somehow. Neat, perfectly sized attire, and yet she walks around with her hair in a disheveled mess. Is it like that because of her job? Does she just wake up like that?

“So, what's up?”

Oh, she's talking to me.

“Nothing really, just needed a suit for something coming up.” I answer.

“Ah, that's nice. Every man needs a good suit.” she replies with a smile.

“And how about you?”

“The top button of my favorite vest popped off and I'm no good with a needle – they do repairs for free here.”

“Oh, that's good. What do you do?” I ask out of curiosity.

“Business stuff. I could start throwing crazy terminology around to try and confuse or awe you, but I'm not that pretentious." she answers, the sides of her mouth curving up into a sort of half-smile.

Well obviously she does enough to justify walking around in such high class clothing everywhere she goes. I don't think I've ever even met a woman who dresses like that.

“I assume you're still a student?” she asks, eying me up and down.

“Yeah, third year.”

"You don't look it. I guessed you were 20 when you walked in." she replies.

“That uniform seem familiar, though.” she comments, scratching her chin.

“It's a school out of the city, a couple of miles away.”

Before she can continue, the apparent owner of the store steps out of the back room and appears before us, her footsteps silent as she strides across the expensive carpet.

“I didn't have any more buttons like this, so I replaced the rest of them while I was at it. Sorry it took so long.” she states, bowing in apology.

“No no no, this is great! Thanks, Lyra!” the other woman answers.

“Thank you for coming by, Ms. Satou.” she replies, bowing again.

“No problem. I'll be back when I manage to mess it up again.” she says with a snicker, waving goodbye as she steps out the open doors.

Ms. Satou? There's a girl at my school with the same name. Lilly, I believe her name was? I might be overthinking this, it's probably just a common name.

“How may I help you, sir?”

“Ah, I need a suit for something coming up.”

“Any specifics?” she asks.

There's specifics to worry about? I thought I just got something that fit and walked out.

“Nothing special, I'm on a budget.” I answer.

“Very well.”

The woman whips a measuring tape out of her pocket and steps behind me, instructing me to stand still.

“5 feet 9 inches. 175cm.” she recites.

The measurements get finer and finer as she goes along; arm span, leg length, waist measurement, broadness of my shoulders, thickness of my neck, as well as about ten other seemingly random variables.

“I'll be right back.” she states, disappearing into the jungle of tasteful clothing.

Within the minute, she appears right behind me, almost making my heart skip a beat as she announces that she has found the perfect suit for me.

“The dressing rooms are right over there, sir.”

I take the bundle of hangers from her outstretched hand. It's nothing special, like I asked – solid black, no fancy buttons, no expensive cuffs, no sunglasses or a watch on a chain; just a plain black suit.

Her amber eyes shoot an intense stare my way as I step over and into a dressing room. A strange pressure emanating from outside the door as I change out of my school uniform and into the new...

“Wow, this fits pretty well.” I comment aloud.

From across the store, a voice announces “Perfection is my duty!” as if on cue.

Fair enough.

I hop back into my school uniform and carry the hangers to the counter, where I'm rung up in the same stiff, professional manner as everything else.

“That will be ¥------”

Alright. That's pretty fair. I guess it's nice that it only runs a few yen over the amount my parents gave me for this.

I grab my receipt, receive a wave goodbye, and step out the door, new suit in tow. All my business in the city is taken care of, but for some reason, there's one thing on my mind – who was that woman from earlier? I can't get her out of my head for some reason.

Disheveled blonde hair, ruby-red eyes, and a business suit. And yet despite all that, she wasn't the least bit intimidating or... business-like in any way. She came across as foolhardy more than anything, like she was just waiting for something exciting to happen.

I should have at least asked for her name.