#otoyafte

[apex-academy]

Chapter 4: Six Chambers, One Loaded (#15a)

The door out to the hallway creaks open a crack. I can just see a flicker of motion before it slams shut again.

“........”

It doesn’t reopen within a good half minute, so I get up and walk over there myself. When I check, the hallway’s empty. I move onto the east wing door to peek into the dorm hallway.

Cryptid spotted.

“Hey, Otoya!”

He freezes mere steps from his door, his shoulders hiked up to his ears. I drop my voice before I can give him any more of a heart attack.

“Trying to grab something from the kitchen before the dinner crowd rolls in?”

“...”

“I was just going to get something myself. I won’t pester you.” I nod towards the cafeteria. “C’mon.”

“...........”

He stares down the other dorm doors, but they remain closed. 

“Fine. Whatever.”

Looking no more relaxed, he storms straight past me.

It’s something.

I follow him over and, as promised, don’t say a word. He puts together a single sandwich and eats it in the kitchen. He only takes bites when he’s sure I’m not looking.

He looks like he’s about to say something a good five times before he actually says something.

“Do you... like... books?”

“Me?” You’re the only one here, Kakumi. “I guess. Don’t spend much time reading for pleasure, but I’m not averse to it.”

“...”

“You?”

He just grunts.

“...”

I give him a minute, but he either can’t come up with anything else or doesn’t want to. I stare at the island counter instead of him.

“Why do you ask?”

“...”

“...”

Well, I didn’t expect it to be easy. Mostly I’m still surprised he initiated anything.

“Just wondering.”

Another minute of silence.

“...Do you write?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, obviously writing-writing is your whole thing. Just, if you like that and you like books...”

“.......”

“K-Kinda.......”

“Yeah? Dabbling?”

“Mm.”

“I dunno. Just, you know those illuminated scriptures or whatever? It might be kinda cool to do a-a fantasy book like that.”

“I mean! Not cool, just...”

“...”

“I think that sounds pretty cool.”

“Y-yeah...?”

“Yeah. You should try it.”

“I…”

“F-forget it! It’s all crap, anyway!”

“What’s all crap?”

“U-um…”

...I think that’s all he’s got. Whether or not he’s actually already started on this project I may never know.

“If you want to work on writing anything like that, I can get you into Itsurou’s study hall.”

“Some of the resources are certainly genre-specific, granted. But there are a lot of general books on writing, too.”

“…”

“…Would that be weird? Since Itsurou’s…”

I don’t feel the need to finish his sentence for him.

“That’s up to you. For what it’s worth, I’m sure he’d be thrilled to help anyone get writing.”

“...”

“Just let me know. I won’t force you, but it is nice to have things to keep you busy here.”

“Right...”

He doesn’t seem ready to make a commitment, and I think I’ve dragged enough out of him for one day. I’ll give the poor guy a break.

Fantasy books, huh? Somehow I’m not that surprised. Wonder if he’s found anything in the library.

[BACK]

[apex-academy]

Chapter 3: Down Down Down and the Flames Went Higher (#11b)

I open the door to the weight room... except I don’t.

“It’s blocked.”

This may be the second floor, but this seems oddly familiar...

I knock.

“It’s Kakumi. Am I allowed in there?”

The clanking inside pauses, but only for a minute.

“No.”

Yup, that’s Otoya. Shocking.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not... Ugh! Just go away!”

“I have nothing better to do than hang around here. I could just stand here talking and talking, allll evening long—”

A loud clank cuts me off. It isn’t repeated. I think he’s moving around in there.

“Just give me a freaking second. Frick.”

I tap my fingers on my thigh for a minute before he finally grunts and opens the door a peep.

“What the crap do you want?”

“...”

“What?!”

“You own a shirt.”

“Yes, I freaking... It’s just not comfortable, okay?! Both of them at once.”

“So do you freaking want something or not? I’m busy.”

Okay, I have to come up with a better excuse than wanting to chat.

“I wanted to try working with the dumbbells. I wouldn’t mind some pointers from you, actually, if you don’t mind.”

“Wh... M-me? Uhhhh...”

He stands there dumbstruck for another few seconds before shutting the door. But I don’t hear him dragging whatever impossibly heavy weight he had there earlier.

“............”

“Go away.”

“Why?”

“Uh—I... Just—” His mumbling trails off into a quiet whine.

He warily eases the door open again.

“Fine, just... don’t... watch me.”

“Uh, no problem.”

Not sure how he’s supposed to help me with any exercises if I can’t look at him, but that’s not that important, anyway.

With much reluctance, he allows me inside and seals us both in. ...I am sure he’s not going to kill me, right? Uh, he’d at least have the sense to do it in a less obvious location. I think.

He manages about ten seconds of vaguely explaining dumbbell exercises before scuttling off to a machine. 

I... guess I should actually try some exercises, then. Here’s hoping I’m not too sore to lift a cue tomorrow.

I only just manage to stop myself from looking over my shoulder at him as I start.

“Do you use machines a lot?”

“We, uh, only have a couple at home.”

“No gym membership, I guess?”

“No freaking way.”

“Why not? Seems like you would enjoy it. If there’s a 24-hour one around, you could go at times nobody else would be there.”

“Staff would be there.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think you’d have to interact with them that much.”

“Yeah, but they’re used t-to... Frick.”

“Used to what?”

I’m met with silence. Absolute silence. Not even clanking. ...Has he lifted anything since I’ve come in here?

“Are you even working out right now? I didn’t mean to interrupt you that badly.”

His mumble is low, but I know he won’t repeat himself, so I try to catch everything.

“It doesn’t work with the jacket on.” Something, something... “...circulation.”

Uh, yeah, I could see those sleeves interfering. Do they not already cut off circulation?

“And that’s why you were trying to just wear the shirt to work out?”

“Mm.”

“And that’s a problem because...? Sorry, I’m just not getting it yet.”

It sounds like he fidgets.

“The... I’m... It’s just... The shirt, um—I-I’m just. Um. Too tall. And that’s it.”

The shirt isn’t quite long enough, then? Not surprising. Still don’t know why that’s such a big deal, but if he doesn’t want to be seen like that, then I won’t see him like that.

“I mean, I promise I won’t look.”

“...Promise promise?”

“Yeah.”

“..............”

It takes a minute, but eventually I hear clanking again. And now the curiosity is killing me. But I’m not about to invade... whatever privacy that glancing at him in a T-shirt would invade. Maybe he has mysterious scars or something, I don’t know. None of my business, whatever it is.

Normally I don’t mind a lack of conversation, but focusing on the workout is making me tire out faster.

“Did anything in particular get you into weightlifting?”

“What? Uh... Pops, I guess.”

“Your dad?”

“Yeah. ...You don’t, um, know him or anything, r-right?”

“No? Should I know him from somewhere?”

“Absolutely not!”

“...........”

I’d press the issue, but I have no idea why I might know his dad. Do we live in the same area or something? I don’t think I’ve mentioned my neighborhood, and I’m pretty sure I would have remembered crossing paths with anyone like Otoya.

“He likes exercise, then? Or just wanted to help you get into it?”

“Oh, yeah.” Thanks, that was a clear answer. “He’s gotten, uh, really into weightlifting since he retired.”

“He’s already retired? From what?”

“N-nothing!”

“...”

“Uh... Uh, anyway. Um, yeah, he can lift a lot more than me.”

I actually drop my dumbbell.

“Wh-what?”

“Yeah, he can bench five-hundred-something. It’s fricking insane.”

“Uh. Um. Hmm. Huh. Uh, wow.”

I... should have expected at least one of his parents to be pretty big, but... Hmm.

I pick the dumbbell back up, but I feel like I’ve pestered Otoya long enough. He can’t be very comfortable with me here.

“Think I’ll head out for now. Thanks for the help.”

I step towards the door. I stop at the door. I look at the gigantic dumbbells blocking the door.

“........I’m sure I can...”

A huff comes from behind, and just for a flash he steps in front of me. I look down as fast as I can, but I can’t help getting a glance. Of... nothing strange, as far as I could tell.

“...Geez.”

He takes a dumbbell in each hand and flees.

“Thanks...”

“Uh, yeah. Bye.”

[BACK]

[apex-academy]

Chapter 2: Inhale. Exhale. It’s Probably Not Going to Be Okay (#14a)

“........”

I remove the newest stick of pencil lead before standing in front of the door. Wonder if he’s in the mood to talk. Sources say no.

I knock anyway. No response. I try again.

“What do you want?”

Ah, there we go.

“Thought we could hang out.”

“..............Why?”

“Why? Um, because I don’t have anything else to do, I guess? Doubt you do, either.”

“But why me?”

“Why not...? Is there some reason I shouldn’t want to hang out with you? I can’t think of anything.”

He falls silent for long enough I stoop to pick up his bento. Still full. Geez.

“I just don’t know much about you and vice versa, so we might as well.”

Still nothing.

“...I’m not trying to kill you.”

Silence. Is he still in there? Don’t think he could escape without my notice, but...

His voice finally returns.

“...Why?”

“Why am I not trying to kill you??”

“Yeah.”

“..........”

“For starters, I’m not going to kill anyone, period. And if I was, do you really think I’m stupid enough to target you? In your own room? When you have dumbbells in there that probably weigh more than I do?”

“...............”

What is going on with him? I guess it’s an understandable reaction when we’ve been told to kill each other, but... He wasn’t this bad from the start.

The door opens a crack, and I flinch more than I’d like to admit. It still doesn’t open any reasonable amount, but I can at least see an eye and a sliver of Otoya’s person.

“What are you after, then?”

“Already answered that. Wouldn’t mind if you had some of this, though.” 

I lift the bento box.

“When was the last time you ate?”

“None of your business.”

“That’s not a good answer.”

“If you don’t want to let me into your room, we could go to the cafeteria.”

“Why the heck are you so hung up on this? I don’t need to freaking eat all the time! Don’t know what gave you the impre—”

He cuts off and huffs.

“Just go away.”

“........”

I would think a guy that big would have to eat a lot, but I feel like I shouldn’t state that.

“Most humans need to eat? Multiple times a day, even.”

“Well...”

He can’t seem to come up with anything.

“Fine, just—just give me the stupid thing, then! If I get poisoned, it’s your freaking fault!”

“Okay.”

Does he really think Yuki poisoned it? Everyone would know it was her. And we don’t think we have any efficient poisons around here, anyway.

Otoya opens the door wide enough to get the bento through. He slams it down somewhere with crash before glaring at me again. I think. He’s still pretty shadowed.

“It’s not really hanging out if I can’t see you.”

“Sucks to be you.”

“........”

Obviously he’s not offering anything up freely, so I’ll have to push it myself. Might as well shoot for something easy.

“What kind of food do you like?”

“Uh. Just whatever. Omuraisu’s my favorite, I guess.”

“My mom makes it with chicken. Don’t know if that’s standard.”

“Yeah? Is your mom a housewife, or...?”

“Librarian. Works from home, though. And, uh, teacher? I guess?”

“You guess?”

“I don’t freaking know! It’s not like she has other students!”

“Oh... You’re homeschooled?”

“Yeah.”

“Got a freaking problem?”

“No.”

“I just don’t know a lot of homeschooled people. They have organizations, right? That do stuff for kids in the area so it’s not so isolated?”

“Dunno. Never looked for one.”

I am wholeheartedly unsurprised.

At any rate, he looks like he’s going to combust if I keep trying to talk to him. I at least got something.

“I’ll leave you to your lunch.”

“I’m sure it’s good. Mine always are.”

“Sure.”

“......”

“Bye.”

He shuts the door.

“Bye...”

Can’t say I didn’t try.

[BACK]

[apex-academy]

Chapter 1: Smite Evil and Other Murder Methods (#17c)

I slip back to the quill emblem study hall. If it isn’t Itsurou’s, it must be for calligraphy, right? Wonder if Otoya’s locked it yet.

I twist the handle without any trouble, but I can’t actually budge the door.

“Is it stuck on something?”

I give it another few tries, but this is going nowhere fast. I sigh and let my arm fall back to my side.

My pause is just long enough for me to hear a faint sound from inside the room. Then a much more recognizable sound.

“What the crap do you want?”

“...Otoya? Is that you in there?”

“No, clearly this voice belongs to Kokor—YES, it’s Otoya! What do you want?”

Oh, boy.

“Just thought I’d check in. Are you doing okay?”

“Yes. Bye.”

“.....”

It takes a good couple of minutes to get Otoya to actually listen to me, let alone convince him to open the door. Eventually I manage a decent argument: if he’s worried about someone coming in to kill him, then he should try to get along with us. If no one forms any personal connection with him, he’s more of a target, right?

I don’t think anyone is stupid enough to target him, but there’s no need to weaken my argument.

Finally the door opens, but only a crack.

“Fine! Just...” He lets out a short breath. “What do you want me to do?”

“Have a conversation?”

“Fine.”

“...”

“...”

...I’m gonna have to do all the work myself.

“So, what got you into calligraphy?”

“...What?”

“I mean... Was it something your parents did? Or did you join a school club, or?”

I hope it’s not the latter. Sports clubs would kill to recruit him, and I'd hate to be on their bad side.

“Uh, not really.”

“...”

“Look, I don’t freaking know! It just looked nice and I could do it!”

“You get decent practice writing letters, I guess.”

“You wrote letters?” That’s different. “Who to?”

“Um...”

It takes him a minute to decide he’ll continue.

“Had a friend in primary school. She moved away. Whatever.”

Riveting.

“Well, it must be nice to keep in touch. I don’t think I talk to anyone I knew from primary school.”

“That’s probably normal.”

“...”

“...”

“So... Do you play any sports?”

“What? No.”

“...”

“Why?”

Somehow this feels like a giant trick question. But I’m not sure if I’m avoiding the trap or walking right into it.

“Oh, I don’t know. A lot of my guy friends are into sports, is all.”

He sighs, and it takes a while for him to mumble something else.

“I guess I watch rugby with Pops sometimes.”

“Huh. Is there a team where you live?”

“No. We just watch it on TV.”

“Except watching TV gives me headaches, so I just take his word for it on the final score.”

“What do you need to know the final score for?”

“We bet on the games. Not money, just...” He lets out a short breath. “Something stupid.”

“There—are we connected yet?”

I guess I should leave the poor guy alone.

“Uh, yeah. It was nice talking to you.”

He grunts and slams the door shut. 

“Excellent manners, Otoya...”

I hear desk legs scraping on the floor in there. Was that what was blocking the door? An entire desk? Probably loaded up with paper and other supplies?

“How much can this guy even lift...?”

At least I know it is possible to have a conversation with him, however briefly. I’m sure I’ll have to fight for every one.

[BACK]