Chapter 3: Back to School
Azazel was chilling in class, doodling in the margins of his notebook as he waited for the lunch bell. When it finally rang, he met up with Kenji and the other guys from the kendo club in the courtyard.
"So," Kenji said, nudging him with an elbow, "not eating lunch with your girlfriend today?"
Azazel nearly choked on his drink. "My what now?"
"Dude, you know," Kenji grinned. "Ruyi Ironveil."
One of the other boys chimed in, "Yeah, man, you two are always talking. You've been joined at the hip for a month."
Kenji nodded sagely. "Yeah, you don't just do that. You're definitely going out."
Azazel stared at them, a genuine flicker of confusion breaking through his usual cool. "I... should probably just ask her that kind of question, huh?"
The group fell silent for a second before erupting. "What? You haven't even asked?!"
They spent the rest of lunch razzing him, but Azazel just shrugged it off, though the thought lingered in the back of his mind.
---
Back in class, Azazel and Ruyi started exchanging notes.
You good?he wrote.
Bored. This lecture is killing me,she scribbled back. You?
Same. Club later.
When the final bell rang, Azazel headed to kendo. After a grueling series of drills, Kenji sidled up to him, his face serious. "So? Did you ask her?"
Azazel pulled off his men (head armor), wiping sweat from his brow. "No, man. I'll do it later. Why do you care so much?"
"Because sometimes you're a total lone wolf, man. Even if I'm your friend, I worry you'll just drift off."
Azazel couldn't help but laugh. "Dude, are you worried about me? Wait... you crushing on me or something?"
Kenji's face went bright red. "What? No, dude, why would—you ass!" He sputtered, turning to march away.
"Hey, guys!" Azazel called out to the rest of the club, a real smile on his face for the first time all day. "Kenji's blushing!"
After another intense hour, the sensei dismissed them, but not before making an announcement. "Listen up! There will be an inter-school tournament in the coming months. I expect everyone's best!"
---
Exhausted, Azazel went to his usual spot in the park to decompress. He lit a joint and scrolled on his phone, washing the taste down with a sickly-sweet canned coffee from the vending machine. After about an hour, a familiar voice broke his concentration.
"Azazel. I guess you really do like this park."
He looked up to see Ruyi. "Hey, Ruyi."
She sat down on the bench next to him and, without a word, took a sip from his coffee can.
"You know I was drinking that, right?" he said, raising an eyebrow.
"I know. But this is the sugary one. It always tastes the best."
A genuine laugh escaped him. "Yeah, the other ones suck."
"They're so bland!" Ruyi laughed with him.
The comfortable silence returned, and Azazel felt a nervous knot tighten in his stomach. "Hey, Ruyi... I need to tell you something. Or ask you, I guess. Everybody... the guys... they think you and I are going out with each other."
Ruyi looked at him, her expression unreadable. "But... we are going out with each other, right?"
Azazel was completely flabbergasted. His mind raced. What? How? Did I hit the jackpot without even trying?
He managed to find his voice, a sly tone creeping in. "I guess the cat cafe made it official, then."
Ruyi's eyes sparkled with triumph. "So you did ask me out."
Shit. Did I just step on my own tail, or did she just expertly play me?
"I think," he said slowly, "you wanted it to be a date all along." He reached out and tentatively held her hand. "But... I'm okay with it. If you are."
Instead of answering, Ruyi leaned in and hugged him. After a moment of surprise, Azazel hugged her back, the scent of her hair cutting through the lingering smell of weed. They talked for a while longer before he walked her home, the night feeling strangely light.
---
Azazel was almost back to his apartment, the strange new feeling of... happiness?... still buzzing in his chest, when his phone vibrated. It was his handler.
They met at a quiet, late-night café. She slid a stack of papers across the table. "I need your help with some paperwork. Your Japanese is better for these local forms."
Azazel sighed but agreed. As they worked, she made casual conversation.
"How's school been these past few months?"
"Why are you asking me?" Azazel retorted, not looking up. "Aren't you monitoring me?"
"Yes," she said flatly. "But asking you is more engaging. Your perspective is... unique."
Azazel relented, giving her a few vague details about his classes and the kendo tournament.
"That's good," she said, not sounding particularly invested. "At least you've made some friends."
After another twenty minutes of silent form-filling, Azazel slammed his pen down. "Wait a minute. Why the hell am I helping you with so much of this goddamn paperwork?"
The handler didn't even look up. "Because you owe me for covering your ass."
A cold dread trickled down his spine. "What do you mean by that?"
She finally met his gaze, her eyes cold and steady. "The illegal street racing you've been doing lately. The Datsun. Daikoku. Don't look so surprised. Did you think we'd just stop watching?"
Azazel stared at her, his new-found happiness evaporating. He slowly picked his pen back up. "...Okay. Back to the paperwork."
She allowed a thin, victorious smile. "I thought so."
As they finally finished and he headed home, the weight of his old life felt heavier than ever. Damn. She played me. The clean slate was now officially smudged, and she had the eraser.
---
After several weeks of intense training, the inter-school kendo tournament arrived in a whirlwind of shouted commands, the sharp crack of bamboo, and the roar of the crowd. When the final points were tallied, Azazel's school had clinched a hard-fought third place. The team, buzzing with adrenaline and pride, decided to celebrate the only way they knew how: a raucous session at a karaoke bar.
Surrounded by flashing lights and the off-key belting of his teammates, Kenji slung an arm around Azazel's shoulders. "Dude, you were totally cheating in your match, weren't you?"
Azazel took a sip of his soda, feigning offense. "How? The referee would have seen it and called me out."
One of the other boys nodded sagely. "He must be talking about when you overpowered that guy from Seijin High. You sent him stumbling back like three feet!"
Kenji pointed triumphantly. "See! I wasn't the only one who noticed!"
It was the quiet guy with glasses—Yuto—who spoke up, adjusting his frames. "It wasn't cheating. It was a simple application of physics and balance. Azazel's style incorporates brute force, but intelligently. Each time he clashed swords, he'd angle his shinai to transfer the force downward, making his opponent's feet unstable. All he had to do was maintain pressure, and they'd lose their footing. That's how he scored most of his points."
Kenji stared. "Go on, Mr. Genius."
"Well," Yuto continued, "sometimes he'd get parried, like in the semi-final. When that happened, he'd immediately switch back to fundamental, defensive form. It was actually brilliant."
Azazel gave a slight, acknowledging nod. "Yeah. When the brute force doesn't work, you gotta outsmart them. Basics always win."
Kenji shook his head in disbelief, then broke into a wide grin. "Are you for real? Okay, enough of this nerd talk! Time to party like there's no tomorrow!"
After a long night of celebration, the group stumbled out into the cool night air. As they were saying their goodbyes, Yuto shyly pressed a wrapped gift into Azazel's hands. "Here. I thought you might like this."
Azazel was taken aback. "Thanks, man." He unwrapped it to reveal a black-and-white comic book. 'Journey to Saint', the title read.
He didn't have long to ponder it, as he soon met up with Ruyi. They spent the next several hours on a proper date—getting ramen, wandering through the vibrant night streets, and talking about everything and nothing. Eventually, they found themselves back at their park, the familiar bench waiting for them under the soft glow of a streetlamp.
They sat in a comfortable silence, their laughter from earlier still hanging in the air. Azazel looked at Ruyi, at the way the moonlight caught her eyes. She noticed his gaze and leaned a little closer. He met her halfway, closing the distance until their lips met.
It was soft and tentative at first, then more certain. When they finally pulled apart, both were a little breathless.
Ruyi smiled, a faint blush on her cheeks. "How ironic. This is where we met for the first time, and now it's where we have our first kiss."
Azazel's thumb gently traced her knuckles. "Yeah, it's like... something."
"Fate?" she offered, her voice playful.
He let out a soft chuckle. "Do you believe in fate?"
"No," she said, her smile turning wry. "We just both really like coming here."
"Fair point," he conceded, before leaning in to kiss her again.
"Bye, Azazel," she said later, her hand lingering in his. "I'll see you at school tomorrow."
He waved goodbye, watching her until she disappeared from view. Alone again, he sat on the bench, rolling a joint to process the whirlwind of emotions. As he smoked, he picked up the book Yuto had given him. "Journey to Saint". He flipped through the pages. "What is this, a comic book? Why is it in black and white?"
He started reading and found himself finishing the entire volume in one sitting. "A whole classroom gets summoned to another world? Why was it so easy to read? The fighting scenes are cool, but it still feels like a fancy comic book."
---
The next morning, he found Kenji at school and shoved the book into his hands. "Kenji, what's up with this comic?"
Kenji burst out laughing. "Azazel, that's not a comic book! It's a manga. That's why it's black and white and you read it from right to left."
Just then, Yuto walked up, looking hopeful. "Hi, Azazel. How was it?"
"It was... really cool, I guess," Azazel admitted. "But Kenji says it's not a comic."
"He's right," Yuto said, beaming. "It's manga. You guys should come by my house later. I can give you the rest of the volumes."
They agreed, and after a day of classes and club activities that felt both ordinary and strangely brighter, Azazel, Kenji,went to Yuto's house. They spent the evening immersed in a new world—playing video games, watching an anime series Yuto insisted was a classic, and surrounded by shelves of manga.
At one point, Azazel slipped out to the balcony and lit a joint, the familiar haze smoothing the sharp edges of his social anxiety. Coming back inside, the world felt softer.
He looked around at his friends, all arguing good-naturedly about the best Journey to Saint character. A part of his mind, the old, cynical part, whispered that this was all just a bunch of cartoons. But he was too high to even care about the difference. The weed hummed in his veins, muting the critic in his head and letting a simple, warm contentment wash over him. For once, he could just be.
After a fun, loud, and perfectly hazy day, Azazel headed home, the mellow buzz and the echo of his friends' laughter a pleasant combination.
End of Chapter 3