Plurk paste

As the school year progresses, Akihiko finds himself with a fan club.

He doesn’t really get it. Sure, his boxing match record is spotless – mostly because he couldn’t live with himself if he did anything less than his best every time – but does that really call for a gaggle of girls hovering nearby every time he goes to lunch? It’s annoying, especially with their tendency to squeal and gossip about him all the time.

He starts having lunch on the school roof just to get away from them. Besides, Shinji was right about Ekoda’s general uselessness as a teacher, so if it’s a classic lit day he can get an extra hour or so away from them.

“I’d probably mind it less if I knew what they wanted,” he says, one afternoon. Shinji looks at him like he’s grown a second head, then facepalms, shoulders shaking like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Fuck’s sake, Aki, even <i>I</i> know what they want from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“They want to get in your pants, idiot.” Shinji sighs. “Honestly, I thought you were the one with a functional sex drive here.”

“Well, yeah, but… what does that have to do with them?” He has Mitsuru for that, even though they haven’t gone that far yet, and Shinji, if Shinji ever decides he wants to.

“Everything, in their own heads. You’re gonna have to tell them no if you want ‘em to back off.”

Contrary to what Akihiko thought, knowing what the girls want actually makes their constant fawning even more unbearable. At least with Ken, it makes sense; he’s giving the poor kid something to focus on and someone to turn to, in the absence of basically any other adult support in his life. Also, Ken’s <i>eight</i>.

Nine? He really should ask Ken when his birthday is. Anyway, it’s more acceptable for a kid to do that kind of thing, even when the kid in question is trying way too hard to be an adult. Akihiko and Mitsuru are pretty sure Ken’s trying to prove he’s mature enough to try for a Persona, but he doesn’t think it’ll work until Ken’s at least ten no matter what he does.

The worst is when a girl corners him after the last match of the school year, utterly convinced he’s her soulmate. It’s everything Akihiko can do not to laugh in her face – he’s not sure he’d believe it even if he didn’t already know.

“Come on,” she says, “just take my hand and you’ll see! Please?” She draws out the last word much longer than she needs to.

Akihiko sighs. “I can guarantee you’re really, <i>really</i> not my soulmate. All touching you is going to do is disappoint you. If you’ll excuse me, I really need to go shower.”

He turns to go, and she reaches for him as he does, getting a hand on his shoulder in the process. He doesn’t need to look back at her to know how hurt she must look, but there’s nothing he can do about that. Maybe it’s better she had this particular bubble burst before she could build any more steam under it.