Blind Bargain Thin (Itsuki, Momo, Mihama, Sumi)

On the bench of one of Higan Academy’s corridors, Itsuki sat alone, as none dared to sit near him, the outcast, the ticking bomb.

Not that it was that much of a bother, it gave him space to think, to ponder his decisions and next steps, just like now.

Itsuki stared haphazardly at the card he had just gotten a few days prior. An invitation to the Bohemian Club. As far as he knew, they were a bunch of weirdos and art eccentricities in the school.

His fingers tapped against the card, and the soft tips of his nails touched the cold card. A sharp breath came out of the rift between his lips.

Could he even believe in that woman?

He didn’t know.

His eyes darted from one place to the other, lost in thought.

“It won’t hurt to talk about it.”

He got up and started to walk.

The corridors of the school extended forever, and then they took turns, a non-Euclidean nightmare of his mind’s own design.

Images of people, the corridors, and sounds, clipped together into a horrendous cacophony, a sensorial nightmare that Itsuki was too used to.

It was a long while since he had seen those halls normally.

It felt as if the ground went up and down, it took impossible turns, he was surrounded by fellow students, yet felt alone, like in the deepest layer of self-imposed limbo.

Yet, amidst the thunderous menagerie of noises, his steps echoed louder.

And louder.

It drowned all the sounds.

It left only a labyrinth of grey.

He was alone now.

Melodies he listened to a lot echoed in the surroundings, background noise, white noise, whatever it was, repeating to exhaustion.

He closed his eyes for a moment.

And when he opened them, he was in the student council room.

When did he get there?

He didn’t know.

But he had no time to get lost in reverie.

He knocked on the door.

It was lunch time, and someone should be there.

Someone who could help him make his decision.

Step into the weirdo’s den, or just ignore it.

“Hi hi, wait a bit!” An energetic and diminutive voice came from behind the door as it was promptly opened.

Itsuki looked down and bowed.

“Hello, Mihama-kun.” He spoke with respect and dignity, none of his violent and erratic tendencies at play. Even in the stage he was, he would not dare to disrespect, treat someone as dignified as Mihama wrongly.

“Oh, hello, Kusanagi-san. What brings you to the council?” She asked shyly as Itsuki gave a tired smile to her.

“I want to know about the Bohemian Club. I recently got an invitation to join them. I want to know more. I thought one of you in the council would have a better idea of how the club works.” If not Mihama, then Shu would do the trick.

Maybe even Madoka, although he disliked interacting with her, he always felt as if she stared right through him, even in the days when she was part of the Fujiwara-Senki.

Mihama nodded and silently invited him in. Itsuki took the invitation without hesitation.

His colorless world was painted again.

Memories, painful memories of that room, the student council’s room, overwhelmed his mind like a flash flood. For a moment, his facade broke to show the twitch of his eyebrows, the contraction of his lip’s corners.

How many laughs did he share in this room? The talks with his previous friends. The tears cried there, the pain he felt in his chest.

The unhealed hurt and wound left in him in this same room, in his darkest days, those days that always haunted him, forever and ever in repeat inside his head and soul.

The crushing weight that blankets his shoulders. Itsuki soldiered on with that feeling and buried it deep within. It was too late to remember those days.

Too late to feel that yearning, and far too late to even begin to ponder on what ifs and daydreams.

Once again, his world turned colorless.

Just the bland grey of everyday.

Mihama sat on the sofa, and Itsuki sat behind her, the card of the Bohemian Club between his fingers. Mihama crossed her arms, a pout on her face. She then rubbed her temples and then her forehead, thinking about the Bohemian Club.

“They. Huh. They are a colorful bunch, very energetic, even if a little shady.” She threw her arms up, as if to disarm a trap she had made. “But they are not bad! Just a little eccentric! They are very nice, and some of them take commissions for free, when they feel like it!”

“They are a small club, but they do make things big! I heard they made a canvas the size of a wall in the last culture festival Higan hosted!” She opened her arms wide, trying to give him an example of how big the canvas was.

Itsuki smiled a little at her enthusiasm. “They don’t like recruiting many people. I also heard they get into problems with other clubs sometimes, but they are not bad people, Itsuki! If they gave you an invitation, they must like you!” She gave him a thumbs-up, encouraging him to take their offer to join a club.

Itsuki felt the need to scoff again. Like him, what a beautiful joke that was. No one liked him, not like that. Such a bunch of bullshit.

A part of him wanted to cry out in irony at those words spoken.

As if she felt his pain, Mihama patted him on the lower back, and a painful smile threatened to split Itsuki’s lips. Yeah, there were at least a few people like her who liked him. “Don’t worry, Itsuki. You must have an artistic spark in you! Everything will be sorted out nicely, I guarantee you!”

‘I too didn’t know I had it in me, Mihama-kun.’ Whatever that girl who gave the card saw in him, she must’ve been wrong.

But then again, no one would speak about his darkness, his obsession, that lightly without prior knowledge of who he is.

A calculated move.

“Is this card legit?” Itsuki showed the card to Mihama, who took it from between his fingers, a careful look of appraisal on her face.

She checked the card, front and back. “Yeah, it is. It is an invitation to join, Kusanagi-san. From the big boss of the club herself. See how lucky you are!” She giggledly returned the card to Itsuki, who threw himself against the sofa.

He stared half-liddedly at the ceiling.

It could be another wild goose chase. Or it could herald rewards.

Joining them would bite into his free time, the time he used to hunt.

And his time as a member of the Fujiwara-Senki.

Itsuki looked back at Mihama, a concerned look on her face, as she stared at him with attention and worry. Itsuki swallowed a scoff. “Are you okay, Itsuki-san?” She asked meekly.

He hated how the types like her could see past him so easily, and he hated it more that he could never allow himself to disappoint and hurt them… not that he would ever do it, even if he had the chance to do so.

He didn’t want to scoff at her, but at himself for acting so erratically, so lost, so like himself before her. “Don’t worry, Mihama-kun. I’m just a little thoughtful. Thanks for your help.”

He bowed once again to her and got up. “Don’t worry, Kusanagi-san! You are welcome. Every time you need help, I will be here for you! Or Jinko-kun, Madoka-tan, or Nejima-kun, or Yae-san!”

Itsuki smiled sweetly, the sensation strange in his face.

Was that sweetness real, or just another feigned emotion he learned to fabricate after so long without feeling anything?

He didn’t know.

“Thank you, Mihama-kun. You and the other councilors are very helpful.” Itsuki bowed once again, for a final time, and made quick haste in his exit.

Now, Itsuki would check with someone just as important as the little helper of the Student Council.

His own boss.

He walked around the campus in search of her.

He hoped this was one day she would be in the school; otherwise, they would only be able to meet after school, if he had any luck.

“Hey, Itsuki!” Itsuki moved to the side as he dodged a fast-moving object, a suspiciously girl-shaped object. She fell on the ground ceremoniously, quickly finding her feet.

“Hey, Momo. I have… a topic to discuss with you.” He spoke in a heavy, nonsensical voice. Momo, his boss, patted off some dust out of her skirt before looking at him with sharp, serious eyes.

She knew he was not someone who played with words or with anything.

If he wanted to discuss something, it was because it mattered. “So, spit it out, big guy. We ain’t have all day.” Itsuki nodded and showed her the invitation to the Bohemian club.

“A crazy chick tried to recruit me a few days ago to this club. She said she… they could help with my objective. It was too specific, far too specific, to highly that part. My grudge. They must know something.” Momo took the card from his hands and inspected it herself.

She scowled.

It was legit, or so she thought. “Are you even sure, Itsuki? They could be a bunch of folks trying to steal your time.” Momo was not happy with some deviant club trying to poach her gang member, but she also knew how much that grudge mattered to Itsuki.

If they could help him, she was not someone to stop him, even if it would hurt his time as a member of the Fujiwara-Senki.

“I don’t know. I consulted Mihama-san about them. They are a bunch of secretive weirdos who stick to themselves, as far as I understand. It is as good as a shot in the dark.” A shot in the dark was all he did nowadays. It wouldn’t matter if he joined them or just went doing his own things.

The difference was that maybe they could help him fulfill his objectives. On the other hand, he would be dragged into whatever crazy eccentricities they had planned in the future.

Or maybe, crazy eccentricities they had planned for him.

He would not lie; fighting against an entire club or artistically inclined people sounded fun.

Maybe they could be more entertaining than Yakuza or delinquents. Momo pinched her temples. “Oh, Itsuki. You are going to kill me one day, you know that? Always going alone, doing whatever comes to your mind.”

With a sigh, she punched him on the chest, an act he knew hurt her far more than on him. “As the leader of the Fujiwara-Senki, I order you to investigate the Bohemian Club from inside, see if they have any members we can recruit, or if they are sympathetic to our cause, and more importantly: see if they can help you with your quest, Itsuki!”

Momo ordered him, her face stern, expression hard to discern. Not that Itsuki would lose anytime trying to discern what expression was on her face.

If Momo wanted to be understood, she would make herself understood, and her words were clear: investigate them.

“And besides, how did those art kids even come in contact with you? You are the furthest away from a scranny, art-enjoying weirdos.” Momo placed a hand on her chin, analyzing Itsuki from top to bottom.

He lacked the profile of a lanky, weird kid to join those types. Itsuki shrugged. “The jockeys and athletics club tried to poach me before, too.”

Momo scoffed. “Of course, tall and albino guy. It makes sense why they would want to poach you, but the artist kids. Are you hiding some kind of inner artist from us? What kind of drawings do you make in your free time?” Momo poked him in the belly with her elbow. Itsuki smiled.

“If you count making a mess out of people as art, then I am a maestro. Yet I doubt this is why they are trying to recruit me, Momo. I mean, who with common sense would consider what we do as “art”?” Itsuki poked fun at the situation too, drawing a small laugh out of Momo.

“Yeah. Just a weirdo with a few screws loose in their head would consider that art. You are more like a pig making a mess while eating. Have you even showered?” Momo pinched her nostrils as a joke, as a vein jumped on Itsuki’s cheeks.

“Hey, I took my grooming very seriously, thank you very much.” Slowly, color returned to the world as they shared another laugh together.

With a deep breath, Momo tapped him on the shoulder. “Good luck, Champion. After school, we can talk about how your meeting with ‘em weirdos went.” Beneath her perpetual scowl, a small smile flourished.

Itsuki nodded and followed his path, he and Momo walking in opposite directions, following their own ways in this big, accursed world they called town.

(Later that day)

The school was ending soon. Itsuki never hung around to help clean his classroom or to interact with any of his classmates; there was no reason to when he knew they would just avoid him. It would be a waste of time.

It was always strange to see that gray, dull place bathed in the sunset’s afterglow. Stranger yet was he walking towards a club.

The Bohemian Club.

He stopped at the club’s door and quickly opened it.

They already invited him, and he was not the type of person to bother with pleasantries and small talk.

The resident’s head turned to stare at him. His face was a mix of boredom and an ultimate uncaring feeling. “I want to talk with your boss. She invited me here.” He slipped the card between his fingers.

“Follow me.” One guy stepped up, with a messy apron and uniform, full of colors. Itsuki kept a healthy distance between them.

Cleaning paint out of his uniform would be a bitch, and cost him money he didn’t have at the moment.

The guy looked over himself and groaned in frustration as he turned around and stomped to the inwards of the club. Itsuki followed.

Other people would be wary of following someone into an unknown place so sheepishly, but what was there for Itsuki to fear?

He didn’t know, and thus, had nothing to fear.

Whatever they pulled, Itsuki would top that.

They ended up in the depths of the club, with an… interesting sight.

A girl had another one over her shoulders, using her as a sort of human ladder. The girl at the top wore heels and drove them into the other girl’s shoulders.

While the uniform would blunt some of the pointing, sharp pain, it surely wouldn’t numb all of it. A second look at the top made him realize that it was the same girl he had seen a few days ago.

Itsuki’s eyes focused on her. “Oh dear. It seems you have come. It took you a while. I thought someone as dogged as you would come far earlier.”

The Boss was painting something on a big canvas, as the girl underneath her muttered gibberish and strange sounds, and Itsuki preferred it that way. He didn’t want to get acquainted with whatever was going on with the girl.

The Boss dropped her arts tools, only for the girl undernear her to catch them, without dropping a single thing. The Boss clapped her hands, and people stepped out of the shadows.

They formed a human star, as if in a royal procession. The Boss stepped down the “stairs” and walked towards Itsuki with a strange sense of pride and confidence, as if a queen or model going down the catwalk.

It made even him uncomfortable. “Before we start, I suggest you look at that canvas. I had a long time to perfect it. Isn’t it a beautiful piece?” She turned around to present her work with open arms.

For a moment, Itsuki stared confused at her, and then he took a double look at the canvas.

It was the scene of a few days ago, he thought. His beating up some thugs, gangsters… yakuza? He didn’t remember the details right now.

It was made in excruciating detail, with some artistic renditions of the blood, violence, and gore, a far more glorious and full of style picture than the one that happened in reality.

Itsuki wouldn’t be surprised if it happened to be the cover art of a video game, or something like that.

“Isn’t it beautiful? You were so strong, and brutal, and so full of vitae.” She spoke with pride, admiration, and patronization; she looked at him with sharp eyes and a wide smile, and her hands trembled.

“Yet, you were so crude, so mindless, even though that mindlessness has an artistic beauty of its own, it won’t do. You are so unrefined, and it bothers me. This canvas shows me how much potential you can have, the highs you may achieve.” She balled her hands into fists and then opened them again, her arms spread wide.

As if she wanted him to see the same horizons she saw.

Itsuki was confused, truly lost in what her intentions were. So, to avoid his awkward topic, he would cut to the chase. “What can you do to help with my grudge? Those are not words spoken lightly, girl.”

She placed a paint-covered finger over his lips. Itsuki felt the bitter paint taste, but didn’t react. He wouldn’t clean it with his sleeve either.

“Everything at your time, Prima-Materia.” She then returned to present her canvas. “It is easy to see where you come from, Kusanagi-kun. The rumours about your… set of horns, and how you lost your girl still echo those halls. And of course… your vengeance.”

Itsuki’s eyes grew darker, as veins jumped in his hand, his heart rate paced, he pondered about punching her, but he was above reacting to petty rumours and words after so long.

“So, you are violent, this is a fact, but you can be so much more in your vengeance. I can refine you, I can make you better, to inflict violence. You want to hurt the one you want to hurt, right? But as of now…” She got closer to him, her paint-covered apron getting dangerously close to his uniform.

Itsuki thought about stepping back, but then he saw a small twitch out of her. She would throw herself on him if she did step back, and mess up his uniform, so he gritted his teeth and withstood the feeling to just get away from her.

“You are not doing it with your best. You are brutal, but you can’t inflict that much pain. If you join me, show me those great sights like the last one, I will teach you how to hurt others, to get any information you want from them, and… to make them regret being born. Isn’t it what you want? To hurt people?”

She lacked details, she lacked critical information, but it didn’t matter. She knew just enough to make her point across.

Itsuki grimaced. She was not wrong… if inflicting more pain would lead to him getting more information on that person, on hurting him better when the time came, there was a compromise to be made.

With a look at the members of the Bohemian Club, he saw how subservient, even fearful… and a little strange, in the pain addicted kind of way.

It was worth a shot in the dark.

“Deal. Just keep your end of the bargain, and I will keep mine.”

“My name is Sumi, Kusanagi-kun.” She said with a smile, and a stare that gazed into the empty abyss behind his eyes, and he stared back, into the kaleidoscopic, whimsical, and self-serving desires behind her gaze.