CSC Volume 2: Ch. 5

 For a while, neither of us said anything. Akira stared at me, and I stared at Akira. Both my heart and my mind raced.

He saw me! I thought, panicking. He saw me. He saw me. He saw me! 

I broke out in nervous sweat.

What should I do? I wondered. What should I say to him? I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I was always bad at thinking up things on the fly.

And then, I heard something behind me that nearly gave me a heart attack.

"Oh? What's this?"

I abruptly turned around and saw Isaneko standing a few feet away, looking at us. She asked me, "Oota, why are you sitting in the middle of the hallway?" 

A squeak of terror escaped my throat. I think I mentioned before but despite how she looks, Isaneko had the heart of a wicked witch. 

A foreboding shadow was cast over her face as she rolled her eyes from me to Akira. Her lips curled up into a really scary smile.

"You know, on my way here, I saw Yamimura stomping by," she said. "You two wouldn't happen to see what that was about, do you? Did he, maybe, have a fight with someone? Did you see? What about you, Akira?"

Akira shivered and shrank from Isaneko's gaze, as if he could sense her evil aura. Seeing that, I thought he had good instincts. He shook his head, "no," furiously.

"Oh?" Isaneko said in a low voice. "You know, I felt a little electric charge against my skin just a few seconds before. It sort of felt like someone used some kind of superpower or something. But that's impossible, right Yasahonou? I mean, superpowers don't exist, right Yasahonou? You didn't see anyone use their superpowers, did you Yasahonou?"

Each time she spoke Akira's name, Isaneko's voice rose a little and she took a step towards him.

Akira let out a little shriek and backed away in fright.

"I-I didn't see anything! I didn't see anything!" he spoke shrilly. "I promise I won't tell anyone!"

"Oh?" Isaneko said. She was right up Akira's face now, smiling crazily at him. "And why would you say that?"

"Huh?" went Akira.

"Why would you say you won't tell anyone?" Isaneko asked. "Tell anyone what, exactly?"

"Oh, crap," Akira said.

Isaneko cackled evilly.

“So you did see something,” she said. “Something you shouldn’t have. Maybe something impossible like this.”

As she spoke, she pulled out a pencil case and flicked it open with her thumb. She raised her free hand and the pens and pencils all flew out of the case, orbited around her once and then aimed their points at Akira’s face, which grew very, very pale. He swallowed hard as the pointy pens and pencils floated just a few inches from his eyes.

I was simply speechless. Surely, Isaneko wasn’t going to do what I think she was going to do, I thought. No way. But when the pens and pencils slowly inched closer to Akira’s eyes, I had to cry out, “Wait, Isaneko! What are you planning to do?”

Isaneko barely glanced at me when she replied, “What do you think I’m planning to do? He saw something he shouldn’t have. You know we can’t let him get away with that.”

She wagged a finger, and one pen pressed itself against Akira’s throat.

I cried out, “B-but then - !” But Isaneko cut me off.

“Juuust kidding,” she sang. She lowered her hand and the pens and pencils all flew back into her pencil case. Her smile became small and elegant, but no less evil, as she said, “I won’t do anything. It was just a joke.”

“J-Just a joke!?” Akira said rather shrilly. “That wasn’t funny! I really thought you were going to kill me!”

“Oh, I would never go that far,” said Isaneko. “The most I would do is hire an enforcer to stalk you every waking moment of your life.”

“That’s just as terrifying!” Akira snapped. “Can you even do that?”

Well, Isaneko is the princess of a shady, borderline legal cult, I thought. She and Mirai had confessed a couple of weeks ago that all the club members had been signed on as members of a cult started by her mom. But since nothing has happened since then, I started to wonder if maybe they were joking. Isaneko’s sense of humor, as you clearly saw, wasn’t exactly something most people would get.

Instead of giving a straight answer, Isaneko just kept her small, evil smile and said, “Who knows?”

But then her smile disappeared and she became all business.

“All jokes aside, though,” she said, “this is incredibly serious. Real psychic powers are supposed to be kept secret. We can’t just let any normal person know they’re real.”

“Can’t you just give him powers like you did me?” I said. “Then he’d be one of us.”

“That was really a one-time only deal,” Isaneko said. “We only gave you powers because we needed one more person to open the club. And making a new psychics takes resources, which we don’t have a lot of. And even if we could, we can’t just give just anyone psychic powers all willy-nilly. There’s no telling what kind of chaos would follow. You should know best that there are people out there who cannot be trusted with powers, like the Piper for example.”

I fell quiet at the mention of the Piper’s name. It had turned out that infamous serial killer also had psychic powers. He was psychokinetic like me, and he used that power to make a soundproof box around himself and his victim so that his victims couldn’t escape or get help. I was lucky to slip into that box before it closed to rescue Omoyo.

“Uh . . .” went Akira. “I don’t really get everything you guys are talking about, but basically you don’t trust me to keep your secret that you have superpowers, right?”

“That’s the gist of it,” Isaneko said.

“In that case, let me show you my secret,” Akira said. He raised his hand in front of him for us to see. In the blink of an eye, it became covered in black fur. And then, just as fast as it appeared, the fur disappeared.

Both Isaneko and I looked at his hand in amazement.

“Well, this is a surprise,” Isaneko muttered.

“You have powers too!?” I cried out.

Akira nodded.

“We should take this talk to the club room,” Isaneko said. “It may be summer holiday now, but there are still students like us roaming the school because of clubs and remedial lessons. The others also need to know about this.”

“Okay, got it,” I said. “Is that okay, Akira?”

Akira glanced nervously at Isaneko and then nodded.

“It’s not like you’re going to give me any choice,” he said, mostly talking to Isaneko.

So, we led him back to the clubroom where Yuna, Omoyo and Mirai waited. Yuna and Omoyo were a bit surprised to see Akira and even more surprised (and worried) when they heard what happened. Their surprise reached max levels when Akira showed his power to them. Mirai, however, didn’t bat an eye, as if he already knew what happened before we even came inside the room. With his power to see the future, he must have already seen everything for himself.

“So, all of you have powers?” Akira asked.

“Indeed!” Mirai shouted. “I am the Demon Overlord with the All-Seeing Eye, superior to even Odin’s. To my right is my general, Homura Omoyo, who none can hide their hearts from. And to my left is the great huntress that no prey can escape from, Yuna!”

“Uh . . .” Akira glanced my way.

With a sigh, I said, “Putting aside Mirai’s painfully embarrassing delusion-filled speech, basically, he can see into the future. Omoyo can tell what other people are feeling, like if they’re sad or stuff like that. And Yuna’s like a human GPS tracker for people.”

For some reason, Yuna scowled. I wasn’t sure why she looked so grumpy.

Mirai also wasn’t happy with the way I explained things and said, “What do you mean by painfully embarrassing? It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

To which, Omoyo responded, “Yes, it was that bad. I get embarrassed every time you act like that.”

“By the way, Akira,” I said, “since you have powers, does that mean Mr. and Mrs. Sakamoto have powers too?”

Akira shook his head.

“I don’t know,” he said. “No one, not Grandma, Grandpa, Mom or Dad ever told me about them. Before coming to this town I didn’t even know superpowers were real. Out of the blue, on the first night of my stay with Grandma and Grandpa, I suddenly changed into a wolf man.”

“Well, while not plenty, there are psychics out there who were born to normal families with no history of powers,” said Isaneko. “Although this is my first time seeing a shapeshifter. I didn’t know such a power even existed. Did you, Mirai?”

“I have, actually,” Mirai said. “My dad worked with some shapeshifters, but . . .”

He had an unusually serious frown on his face, and it got me kind of worried.

“But what?” Akira asked.

“I-it’s nothing,” Mirai said. “Forget it. Anyway, since you only discovered the existence of special powers a few days ago, you probably don’t know about the community.”

Akira blinked. “Community? You mean there’s a whole community of people with powers like us?”

“Indubly,” Mirai said proudly.

Isaneko interjected, “I think the word you’re looking for is indubitably. But yes, there is a community for people with powers like us. There are plenty of different groups, gangs and organizations with genuine psychics and superpowered people. Some of the biggest groups in Japan, with ties to the government, have their headquarters here in this town, which is why it’s sometimes called the capital city of Japan’s psychics. Some of those groups have a bit of a feud going on right now.”

“Are you okay?” Yuna asked through her phone. “I know that it must be a lot to take in.”

“You’re telling me,” Akira said. “So uh . . . why are you typing in your phone and using that to talk?”

He became flustered when Yuna lowered her phone.

“Oh! Uh . . . Y-you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he stammered. Despite the way he dresses, he was a really upstanding guy, if not a little insensitive.

But Yuna quickly replied, “It’s okay. I don’t mind. It’s just, I lost my voice about a year ago, so I’ve been mute since. But I can still communicate just fine with my phone or by writing.”

A year ago. That would be about the time that Yuna’s mom passed away, I thought. We never talked about it, and my parents never made any mention of it, but by now I had a general idea about what happened. She seemed okay now, but there was really no telling what Yuna was really feeling inside. Omoyo might have an idea, but I doubt she would ever say anything about it without Yuna’s permission. The two of them had become really close since the Piper case.

“By the way,” Akira said, breaking me out of my thoughts. “You mentioned something about a feud. Is that what that fight was over? You know between those two guys. I think you called one of them Yamimura?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “I forgot to mention, but I think Shikouyama said something about rumors.”

Omoyo groaned.

“So that idiot’s acting up again,” she said. “But what rumors are you talking about?”

I shrugged showing I didn’t know, but Mirai said, “It’s no big secret. You all know about the fires cropping up all over town lately, right?”

“Of course,” I said. Some of them happened in my neighborhood after all. 

Mirai said, “Someone on the internet’s blaming it on the Yamimura family and people close to them. There’s no proof of it, of course. But that’s not stopping people like Shikouyama from flying off their handle. And the Yamimura family and their supporters aren’t just going to ignore those accusations. Plenty of fighting is going on in cyberspace with finger pointing, name calling and violent threats.”

“Things that are really not needed right now,” Omoyo grumbled. “The town’s still trying to get over the tension from the whole Piper thing. I don’t even want to think what could happen if the fires keep going on.”

“Well, putting all that depressing stuff aside,” said Mirai. He pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen, and handed them over to Akira. “Please sign over here.”

Akira looked through the paper before holding it up to ask, “What’s this?”

“A club application form, of course,” Mirai said.

Akira looked at him and asked, “And you want me to sign this, why?”

With a smile, Mirai said, “You didn’t really think we would just let you go after everything that has happened, did you?”

Isaneko added, “Just so you know, we are not going to take no for an answer.”

Poor Akira looked from Mirai to Isaneko and then to me with a hesitant gaze, but Mirai and Isaneko just kept smiling while I looked away. Then, with resignation, Akira sighed and filled out the form.

And that was how our club got a new member.

After that, we got to hang out in the clubroom doing our own thing, putting the fight and all that other gloomy stuff behind us. It seemed like the day would end without anymore trouble, but life had one more thing to throw at us.

When the day was over and it was time to go home, we all went over to the shoe lockers. I was in the middle of slipping my toes into my black sneakers when I overheard Omoyo say, "Huh? What's that you got there, Yuna? Some kind of letter?"

After a short pause, she suddenly shouted, "What the hell is this!?"

I abruptly turned around and rushed to the girls.

"What is it?" I asked. "What's wrong?"

Huddled together, the girls all looked up at the sound of my voice. In Yuna's hand was a piece of paper that looked like a photograph.  That photo was a picture of Yuna, herself. But written over her face in red marker was the word for "Curse".

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CSC Volume 2: Ch. 4

"Hey, did you hear?" one boy whispered to another.

"Yeah," said the other boy. "There was another fire the other day."

"Another one!?" exclaimed a third.

The first boy nodded his head and said, "Uh-huh. It was on the news this morning. They're starting to think that we've got a serial arsonist running around the neighborhood."

The second boy groaned in disgust. "Ugh! First we got the Piper roaming around our doorstep. Now we have an arsonist lighting up our houses?"

"Well, technically, no one's house got lighted up," said the first boy.

"It's just a matter of time, though," said the second boy. "I mean, it's always the same with these kinds of things. First it's garbage. Next, it'll be a surprise on the street. And then finally, someone's house gets burnt down."

Right in front of me, my partner trembled in aggravation. He couldn't take the whispering anymore and snapped at the three boys, "Hey! If you got time to flap those lips of yours, use it to spar! We've only got a couple of days before the tournament!"

That's right. It's only a few days before the big Kendo tournament, which our school's Kendo club will be a part of. That's why the leader of the Kendo club asked the Community Service Club to help with training, and Mirai accepted, which is why I'm here in the gymnasium, dressed in black armor, holding a bamboo sword in front of me as another boy in the same kind of armor, with the same kind of sword, attacked me with gusto.

Being an amateur of the sword, I don't believe I could ever be a good training partner for someone aiming for gold at a tournament, but Mirai was adamant about making me take part. I'd like to think I improved over time, but I was nowhere near the level of the Kendo club members. If I used my Psy-Armor, I could probably beat them all. 

I had learned from Mirai and the others that my Psy-Armor enhances both my strength and reflexes, so I can react in an instant. And after a little bit of experimenting, we discovered that my Psy-Armor also let me move however I want. I could use fancy fighting moves like in blockbuster action movies, and even mimic professional parkour moves to perfection. But that would be cheating so I never used the Psy-Armor during sparring or contests.

"Sorry, Watanabe," one of the gossiping boys said.

As the boys scrambled to practice, my partner, Watanabe, the vice-captain of the Kendo club shook his head and muttered, "Honestly! Anyway Oota, let's get started."

"Whenever you're ready, Watanabe," I said, standing ready.

I held my sword unsteady in my hand while Watanabe stood perfectly still. We stayed in place, neither of us attacking. I was on the defense, bracing for Watanabe’s attack.

I took deep breaths while waiting, my eyes rolled from Watanabe to his sword, and back to Watanabe again while I felt beads of nervous sweat roll down a side of my face. We both made our moves and then . . .

Bam! Bam! Bam!

I was crushed badly. No matter how many rounds we did, I couldn't land a single hit. And then after a while, we stopped to take a break.

I dropped to the floor, sat there, and threw off my helmet to gulp down some water as Watanabe looked down at me with one hand on his hip. He had his helmet tucked beneath his armpit.

"Well," he said, "you still haven't managed to land a hit on me, or anyone. But I can tell you're steadily improving."

"Really?" I said after gulping down some water as I sat on the floor.

Watanabe nodded his head and replied, "Yeah. It's taking longer to beat you."

I scowled and said, "Couldn't you phrase that a better way?"

But Watanabe just shrugged and said, "It's a compliment. Take it or leave it."

I sighed and decided to just take it since it was true.

As I put the water bottle to my lips again to take another drink, I happened to face the doorway and noticed a familiar face peeking in from outside. It was Akira, Mr. and Mrs. Sakamoto’s grandkid. I wondered what he could be doing here.

Suddenly, Watanabe asked me, “What’s wrong? Is that someone you know?”

“Huh?” I went. I was a bit confused at the question, but then realized he must have noticed me staring at Akira. I quickly stammered, “Y-yeah. You could say that. Sorry, Watanabe. I’m going to go see what’s up with him.”

“It’s fine,” Watanabe said. “It’s almost time for us to end practice for the day anyway.”

I thanked Watanabe and hurried over to Akira. He saw me coming and half-turned to walk away, but hesitated and stayed where he was. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mirai also headed for Akira. He must have spotted him too and had the same thought to greet Akira like I did.

“Hey, Akira,” I said. “What’s up?”

Akira hesitated again and softly replied, “It’s nothing. I was just here to take a look around. This place is going to be my school in a couple of weeks, after all.”

“Cool,” said Mirai. “Let us give you a tour of the place.”

“It’s fine,” said Akira. “I can make my way around here on my own.”

“Not in that punk outfit, you’re not,” Mirai pointed out. “You’re lucky nobody’s called for security yet. This school’s a bit on the conservative side, it’d be easy to mistake you for a trespasser up to no good.”

Akira made a face that spelled out how much he really did not appreciate Mirai’s comments about his appearance. But even he had to admit that his choice of clothes probably wasn’t a good one to wear here of all places.

“But what about those guys?” he asked, nodding to the Kendo club. “Is it okay for you to skip practice like that?”

Mirai glanced back and then replied off-handedly, “It’s fine, it’s fine. We’re just helping out, and it’s almost time for them to wrap up, anyway. Just let us go change real quick.”

After Mirai explained to the Kendo club captain about Akira, he and I both changed out of our borrowed Kendo gear and hurried back to meet up with Akira out of the gym. Once we did, Mirai suddenly went, “Ah! I forgot I had something to do. Sorry, Oota, but can you take care of the tour on your own?”

“Huh?” I went. “H-hey!”

Before I could get a word in, Mirai rushed off, leaving me and Akira alone.

“You don’t have to show me around if you don’t want me to,” Akira said.

But I shook my head and said frantically, “No, no! It’s fine. It’s fine. Let me show you around.”

I was glad for any excuse to get out of exercise.

The tour of the school was mostly uneventful and peaceful. So peaceful in fact, that if this were a TV show, our tour would be shown as a still montage, flashing from one scene to another while soft cheery guitar or flute music played in the background. Slow, sleepy piano music that could lull the most turbulent hearts would work too. I showed Akira to the cafeteria, and then to the library, and after that, we walked through the main hallways where the classrooms were held.

The first year students like me, Yuna and Isaneko have their classes on the first floor, while second years like Mirai and Omoyo had their lessons on the second floor. I don’t have to tell you where the third year students had their classes. Each floor had its own computer lab, sometimes called the audio-visual center, and a Home Economics room where students learn to cook and stuff for Home Economics lessons.

After explaining all that to him, I took Akira over to the first floor again, to show him the faculty room where the teachers had their workstations. Right next to that was the nurse’s office. And with that, the tour ended.

I wasn't sure if the tour was fun for Akira or not. Frankly, I sounded a bit unenthusiastic and dull when I introduced a place to him. But we got along well enough as fellow players of the same gacha games. We talked more heavily about the games we both played than about the places we toured through. We compared the progress we made in those games and expressed envy for the character units and items we each possessed that the other failed to get.

It looked like the day was going to end uneventfully, but little did I realize much tension had risen in town, and in our school. And I along with Akira were about to see that tension reach a breaking point.

It happened as we headed for the clubroom. As we walked down the hall, we heard an angry shout come from behind the corner in front of us.

“Admit it! Your people are responsible for the recent string of fires!”

That was Shikouyama. I could recognize his aggressive voice anywhere.

Another recognizable aggressive voice snapped back, “Hell no! I won’t admit it, because there’s nothing to admit to! No one on my side did anything!”

That voice belonged to Yamimura, a guy who had the same psychokinesis power I had, and the son of a very important psychic family. I think I mentioned before that his family and the Soushu family are on bad terms, so a meeting between him and Shikouyama, who was an extremely loyal follower of Soushu’s, could only lead to all kinds of bad.

“Hey,” Akira said. “Sounds like someone’s fighting over there. Think we should get a teacher?”

“Huh?” I went. “Uh . . .” I hesitated a bit. “Y-yeah! Good idea! You go get a teacher. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on things. Hurry!”

“Okay! Got it!”

I watched Akira turn around at his heels and run away to find a teacher. As soon as he disappeared out of the building, I turned around myself and rushed to the scene of the fight. Things were already pretty bad between Yamimura and Shikouyama. They both had their fists raised to start brawling right here in public.

“Don’t lie!” Shikouyama shouted. Sparks danced wildly around. “There are rumors going around that a person in cahoots with the Yamimura’s making these fires.”

Yamimura looked stunned. He was a pretty big guy who looked more like a hardened thug than a high school student. But he was definitely a high school student last I checked.

“You come here and get all up in my face over some rumors?” he said. “Are you stupid? That’s not even proof anyone on my side did anything!”

“I don’t need proof,” said Shikouyama. “When it comes to trouble in this town, it’s obvious that the culprit’s someone connected to the Yamimuras.”

“Oh, now that does it,” Yamimura said. The air around him rippled intensely like crackling fire. “I don’t care if you are the vice-president of the student council. That doesn’t give you the right to play pretend detective and throw baseless accusations at whoever you don’t like. It’s high time someone got you off your high horse!”

“I’d like to see you try!”

With their psychic powers manifested as armor, they attacked one another with their fists. In a heated fight like this, if psychic powers get mixed up in it, things were bound to end badly no matter who won or lost. I could easily picture the two of them lying on the ground in a bloody mess.

Without thinking, I leaped out of the corner and rushed between them, throwing up a dome of psychic energy around me. Their fists connected with the dome and a loud bang followed. The dome I made popped like a water balloon. At Shikouyama’s side, lightning flashed from the impact while over at Yamimura’s side, his psychic energy popped much like how my dome did.

Both boys were surprised by my sudden appearance, and even I was surprised by my actions. But I couldn’t just stop there, I thought. I had to say something. And so, allowing myself to be swept by the momentum of my adrenaline, I shouted, “Cut it out, you two! This is a school. What do you think’s going to happen if people see you two use your powers and fight? Do you guys really want to find that out?”

Shikouyama and Yamimura said nothing and I turned my angry gaze to give each of them a stare down. It was really tense, and my heart couldn’t beat any faster than it did. And then, the two boys turned away. My intervention seemed to have calmed them down enough to think clearly again.

Finally, Shikouyama said, “This isn’t over. When I find proof of wrongdoing, I’ll see you all pay for your crimes!”

And then he left.

 Yamimura clicked his tongue. “Tch! That should be my line, you zealot Soushu lackey.”

And then he also left, leaving me by myself in the middle of the hallway.

As soon as they were both gone, all the adrenaline left my body and I stumbled, hitting my back against the wall. I sank down to the floor and yelled out, “Oh my god, I can’t believe I just did that!”

I’ve always been the sort of person who try to stay out of trouble. But it seems I had become impulsive, jumping into conflicts without thinking.

Well, I thought to myself, at least this conflict didn't explode into a fight.

But that was the least of my problems.

I happened to turn my head and there, standing out in the open was Akira. His mouth hung open and he stared at me with bulged-out eyes.

Realization quickly dawned on me and I uttered, “Oh, crap.”

Akira had seen the whole thing. 

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CSC Volume 2: Ch. 3

 Please not our house, I prayed. Please not our house.

Yuna followed close behind me. As we got closer and closer home, I had a lump in my throat. I was feeling lightheaded, while a heavy weight laid on my chest.

With that much smoke, more grayish than white, rising into the air, it could only have come from a huge fire. It would be terrible if the fire’s source turned out to be our house. I could just picture my house turning into a blackened fiery mess, and it made the pits of my stomach turn.

But it wasn’t our house that was burning. Instead, when Yuna and I turned a corner, we saw fire burning away a pile of garbage bags at the neighborhood’s trash pickup spot. 

Some people had gathered around the fire, just looking at it. Curiosity sometimes trumped fear and they came to see what was going on. A few even had their phones out to record videos and pictures. 

“Oh good, it’s not our house,” I said, sighing with relief.

Yuna swatted the back of her hand against my shoulder and held up her phone. 

“No, not good!” the phone said. “There’s a fire!”

“Oh, right!” I said. “What do we do? What do we do? There’s a fire! We have to do something or it’ll spread to someone’s house!”

I looked around, frantically thinking. 

“Okay!” I said. “Don’t panic! First step is to stop, then drop, and finally roll!”

“That’s only if you’re on fire yourself!” retorted Yuna.

“Then I’ll blast it away with a Psy-Cannon!” I said. The Psy-Cannon is a name I came up with for a psychic attack. Basically, it’s a move where I shoot blasts of psychic energy from my hand like a cannon.

I was about to aim a finger at the blazing inferno, but Yuna stopped me.

“Are you trying to destroy the neighborhood?” she said through the phone.

This back and forth between us went on for about fifteen or so, when firefighters finally came to put the fire out. 

Throughout the whole thing, Yuna and I were the only ones who panicked. I don’t know how people could just gather around the fire with curiosity and calmly film everything with their smartphones to post on the Internet later. But thankfully, the fire never spread beyond the garbage dump space, and no one was hurt, except for a few people who had coughing fits thanks to the smoke and lingering smell.

“Wow,” Omoyo said as she leaned on a broomstick with a bamboo handle. “Good thing it was just a pile of garbage, and not someone’s house.”

It was a few days after the fire and I had just finished telling the others about it. They all must have heard the news already, but getting a firsthand witness account from someone you know is a lot different from just hearing it reported on TV. Me and the rest of the club were gathered at a park either sweeping up or picking up garbage.

“Tell me about it,” Oota said. “I think I lost years off my life when I saw the smoke.”

“In the end, they chalked it up to a careless smoker, but what do you think, Oota?” Isaneko asked. “Yuna?”

At her feet, a large, black garbage bag was left lying open. Bits and pieces of trash flew into the bag on their own, picked and carried by Isaneko’s telekinetic power.

“I don’t know,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders. “It’s not like I’m an expert on fire or anything.”

I held my hand out and stretched out a ray of psychic energy shaped like a rake. When the fingers of the rake dug into the dirt, I made the psychic energy shrink back towards me, dragging candy wrappers, bottle caps, and pieces of foil into my dustpan.

A few feet away, a girl frowned at us. Her name is Naoko Soushu, and she’s our school’s Student Council president.

“I know using psychic powers like that is better than using them to fight, but you shouldn’t be using them out in public like this,” she said.

Like us members of the Community Service Club, Soushu’s also a psychic. Her family’s actually pretty important in the psychic community. Her mom’s also a powerful politician, which made her quite the local princess. 

“Right, sorry Shoyu.” Even though I apologized, Soushu’s frown only deepened. 

Behind her, Eiji Shikouyama and vice-president of the Student Council scowled. His power is electro-magnetism, which he uses sort of like my Psy-Armor.

“That’s Miss Shoyu to you!” he growled. “Show some respect!”

I instantly shrank away from him. Shikouyama and I have a bit of a history between us that started a couple of months ago. He had misunderstood a meeting between the club and a gang led by Yamimura as some kind of alliance and picked a fight with me to fess up about it. It was the first time I ever fought someone for real. And I put up a decent one at that. Luckily, no one got hurt, but as far as I know, he still thinks we’re buddies with Yamimura.

Yamimura’s family is also pretty big in the psychic community and they’ve got a bit of a feud going on with Soushu’s family, which Shikouyama’s family has a sort of servant-master thing going on with. That’s why Shikouyama hates Yamimura and anyone on his side, which in turn is why things are chilly between the Community Service Club and the Student Council. Well, things are also chilly between the club and Yamimura’s gang, but it’s much worse with the Student Council because of Shikouyama. 

“You’re both wrong!” Soushu snapped. “My name’s Soushu! SOU-SHU! Not SHO-YU! I’ve told you so many times, so why do you keep mixing up my family name with soy sauce?”

What’s this? You’re wondering why the CSC and the Student Council are working together to pick up trash in the park even though we don’t get along? Well, truth is, it’s really only Shikouyama who’s openly hostile. I wouldn’t say the rest of the Student Council are on friendly terms with us, but things are civil enough that we just treat each other like normal classmates. In fact, it was Soushu’s idea that the Student Council join the CSC to clean up the park.

A few feet away, a boy called out to Soushu.

“Coming!” she replied back. She turned back to us and said, “Anyway, just don’t use your powers in public. This town might be the capitol of Japan’s psychics, but there are still normal people here who don’t, and can’t, know that psychic powers are real.”

We all watched as she turned around and left with Shikouyama at her heels.

“Remind me again why we’re working together with Soushu’s group,” Omoyo said to Mirai.

Mirai replied in a grandiose way, “Additional forces are always welcome in this demon lord’s army. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. To spurn them would be detrimental to our cause for world domination!”

Omoyo scowled.

Translating for Mirai, Isaneko said, “What he means is we could always use some extra help cleaning the park, and it would actually be worse for us if we declined the Student Council.”

Yuna said, “So saying no to Soushu would be too much trouble than it’s worth?”

Isaneko nodded and said, “Pretty much.”

“How?” I asked.

“If word gets out that we turned down the Council’s help with community service, people will think that we’re on bad terms,” Isaneko said.

“But we are on bad terms,” I pointed out. Well, Shikouyama and I are on bad terms at least.

“Yeah,” Isaneko said. “But if other people know that, rumors will start flying and we’ll be pestered about them wherever and whenever.”

“That would be more trouble than its worth,” I said.

It was at that moment, that three people approached us. Two of them were an elderly couple that we usually see all the time whenever we clean up litter at parks, riversides, and streets all over town. We knew them as the Sakamotos. The third person was a boy I had never seen before who was rather gloomy-looking and dressed like a heavy metal rocker.

“Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Sakamoto,” I said. “How’re you doing?”

“Oh, hey Aloha Shirt Boy,” said Mr. Sakamoto.

Because I always wear an aloha shirt outside of school, neighbors and grownup volunteer workers know me as the Aloha Shirt Boy. I don’t really mind. Aloha shirts are comfy, which is why they’re the only kind of shirt I wear. And did you know in Hawaii, aloha shirts can be considered formal clothes? Even businessmen, lawyers and government people wear aloha shirts to work.

“How’re you doing, Mr. Sakamoto?” I asked.

“Doing good,” Mr. Sakamoto replied. “Doing good. I see you and your friends are hard at work as always.”

“It is always our pleasure to serve, Sir,” said Mirai.

Mr. Sakamoto and Mrs. Sakamoto chuckled.

Mrs. Sakamoto said, “It’s always good to see young folks give back to the community. Oh, speaking of young folks, let me introduce you all to our grandson. Come over here.”

Mrs. Sakamoto beckoned to the gloomy-looking kid. After he reluctantly came forward, Mrs. Sakamoto pushed him the rest of the way for all of us to see.

"This is Akira, our daughter's son," she said. "Akira, why don't you introduce yourself?"

Akira had a look on his face that suggested he really didn't want to do that, that it was a major pain. But, after a growl from his grandma, he sighed and softly spoke, "Akira Yasahonou. Nice to meet you."

“Akira, here, is going to be going to your school once summer vacation’s over,” Mr. Sakamoto said. “We’d be really happy if you could be friends with him. Maybe you can even have him in your club. I know he’ll be in good hands with you.”

"Uh, yeah," I said, breaking out in nervous laughter. "Maybe."

I glanced back at Mirai, but he just flashed his usual, mischievous grin. Honestly, I didn't think it was a good idea for Akira to join the club since he was normal. The Community Service Club is mainly a club for psychics, after all. But there was no way I could tell Mr. Sakamoto that.

That's why it was a a relieve to me when, with a scowl, Akira said, “I’m fine making friends on my own, Grandpa. And I’ll choose what club I wanna join, thank you very much.”

Beaming, Mr. Sakamoto replied, “You’re welcome.” He was apparently deaf to his grandson’s sarcasm.

But despite his sour and rebellious look, Akira was probably the most diligent and thorough out of all the volunteers. We could all see him working swiftly to pick up trash, unlike us who took our time. And he even went to the trouble of separating it all between recyclable and non-recyclable. 

Meanwhile, we got to learn more about Akira (mostly from his grandparents). Both Mom and Dad of the Yasahonou family were business workers who recently got signed up for a huge project out of country, which was why Akira was going to move in with his grandma and grandpa and go to school with us. 

It also turned out that Akira and I liked the same games. After hearing how he played games on the phone like me, I asked what kind of games he played and we started going deep into conversation over party structure, game progress and which upcoming gacha units we were aiming for. I think that was the start of our friendship.

The cleanup quickly ended with Akira gathering the most trash. Normally, that would earn just a little bit of scattered applause. But when the volunteer leaders tallied up everyone’s trash and announced Akira as the winner of a little trash picking contest they started, Mirai clapped his hands loud and yelled at the top of his lungs, “BRAVO! BRAVO! That’s my future comrade right there! BRAVO!”

Surprised, Akira cried out, “What the-!?”

An evil grin flashed on Isaneko’s face and she started following Mirai’s example. Unwilling to seem like loveless grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. Sakamoto joined in the cheering. Thanks to them, soon everyone was giving Akira an intense round of applause. Soushu and the rest of the Student Council hesitated at first, but they too added their applause in, not wanting to be left out.

Poor Akira looked left and right, going, “Huh? What?” His face had turned really red and he shrank away from the applause with a grimace. I couldn’t blame him. If I was in his shoes, I would be incredibly embarrassed.

I could hear Isaneko cackling softly.

“He looks so cute, all embarrassed and confused like that,” she said.

Glancing at Mirai and Isaneko, Omoyo shook her head in disgust and said to them, “He’s so going to hate you guys for this.”

And that’s how our little club outing went. 

I know, I know. After that fire a few days ago, it’s hard to believe that life could suddenly turn peaceful again, but that’s just how life is. Something happens and then it’s business as usual the next day. I hadn’t even seen the ghost girl in a while too and started to think I was just imagining her.

But as we walked down a street, heading home, there, standing at a corner staring at us was the ghost girl. When I saw her, I stopped dead in my tracks.

“What’s wrong, Oota?” Omoyo asked. “Why’d you suddenly stop?”

I glanced at her and the others and, knowing that they couldn’t see the ghost (and that they don’t believe in them), I decided to just lie and said, “I-it’s nothing. A bug just flew in my face.”

Omoyo didn’t look convinced. But then my phone buzzed.

I took the phone out of my pocket, unlocked the screen and saw I had a message from my mom. Wondering what she wanted, I tapped the message icon and opened the window. As soon as I saw what she had written, my heart jolted like I was splashed with cold water. 

The message read: “Be careful on your way home. There’s been another fire.”

Over the horizon, I could hear sirens blaring as a firetruck must be rushing over to the scene. When I looked up from my phone, I saw that the ghost was gone.

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CSC Volume 2: Ch. 2

 

In Japan, even though it’s summer vacation, many high schoolers like myself still come to school. It’s either for taking makeup classes, or for club activities. For me, it’s obviously the latter. I may not be a genius, but I usually get decent enough results that my parents don’t nag me over it.

Like I mentioned before, I’m a member of the Community Service Club (CSC for short). And just like in the name, my club’s main activity is community service. We go around helping out other clubs when they’re short on people or could use extra hands, and we’ve done volunteer work all over town, like picking up trash by the river. I do take part in those kinds of things, but today, club was just an excuse to get me out of the house and away from my parents’ nagging. Except for helping out other clubs, the volunteer work we do happens around once a week, so the rest of the time, we use the clubroom as a sort of lounge to relax in.

“Hey,” a girl’s voice spoke.

I tore my eyes off the video I was watching on my phone to see Omoyo staring at me with bemused eyes.

“Yeah?” I asked my senior. By the way, I’m still a first year student while Omoyo’s a second year.

“Why are you muttering Buddhist sutras for exorcizing ghosts?” Omoyo asked. “Did you get influenced by a comic book or something?”

I frowned in dismay. “No,” I said. “I’m not like Mirai.”

At the mention of his name, Mirai, another second year, and president and founder of the CSC looked up and said, “Hm? What’s this? Could it be, Mr. Human Shield, you awakened to a new power, one that allows you to contact the Spirit World?”

For the last half hour, he was stroking the back of a realistic-looking bear carved out of wood.

“Please don’t call me that,” I said. “That nickname’s almost as bad as when you used to call me Underling. And yeah, actually, I think I have.”

Mirai’s goofy face fell.

“You serious?” he said. “I was only joking. Don’t tell me you saw an actual ghost!”

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “I spotted one yesterday when me and Yuna went to visit her parents’ grave. It was a creepy-looking girl around our age, and she was staring at Yuna with some really haunting eyes.”

Yuna scowled.

“Please stop,” her phone’s robotic voice said. “I don’t want a nightmare like that hanging over my head. Is that why you did that Shinto exorcism ritual on me last night? You know, the one where you slash the air nine times with your finger?”

“You saw that?” I asked. “Anyway, yeah.”

“My, my,” said Aika Isaneko, mine and Yuna’s fellow first year in the club. “Sounds like you’ve got an evil spirit attached to you, dear little Yuna.” 

She was sitting at a corner of the room reading a book. Said book was floating in the air right in front of her face, no strings or anything, with the pages flipping on their own every time she wagged her finger. You can tell from that, that her superpower is telekinesis, meaning she can move things with her mind.

Smiling, she added, “You better be careful. You never know when one night, the ghost will show up and pluck out your soul.”

And then she cackled a little. Despite looking like a prim and proper princess, Isaneko had the heart of a wicked witch.

“Cut it out, Aika,” Omoyo said, frowning at Isaneko. “It’s not funny how you’re scaring Yuna like that.”

“I’m only joking,” Isaneko said. “It’s not like ghosts are real.”

“Really?” I said, blinking in surprise. “Even though psychic powers like telekinesis, psychokinesis, and future sight are?”

“At the very least, I’ve never seen one before myself,” Isaneko said. “And even if there are people who can really see ghosts, it’ll be incredibly hard for them to prove their powers are real, much harder than proving you have future sight or other forms of clairvoyance.”

“How come?” I asked.

“Ain’t it obvious?” said Omoyo, leaning back while draping one arm over her chair’s back. She’s always had a bit of a rough demeanor. “It’s because they’re the only ones who can see ghosts, so there’s no way anyone who can’t will be able to tell if they’re telling the truth or not. And whatever they’d learn from ghosts could be found out by other kinds of psychic power.”

“But I did see a girl clear as day,” I insisted. “But she disappeared in the blink of an eye like a ghost would do.”

But no matter how many times I said it, I’m sure the others wouldn’t believe me, so I quickly dropped the subject and decided to just forget about the whole thing. Whoever or whatever that ghost was, she’s all the way at another town. I’ll probably never see her again.

At least that’s what I thought.

So why, I wondered as my right eye twitched, is she here?

When it was time to go home, we all grabbed our stuff and locked up the clubroom. We headed towards the school’s front gate and there she was, the creepy ghost girl from the other day, waiting right outside the threshold. She stood in plain view, just staring at us. 

Normally, a girl wearing another school’s uniform would have garnered some attention, but I saw that not one student going out the gate paid her any attention. It was as if they couldn’t see her.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, I thought. What the hell is she doing here? Did she follow me and Yuna all the way from that graveyard? Why? What did she want with us?

Noticing that something was wrong, Omoyo asked me, “Is something wrong, Oota?”

“Say, Omoyo?” I said. “You didn’t happen to see a girl from another school waiting by the gate, did you?”

Omoyo glanced at the gate where the ghost girl was, again, in plain view, and then faced me again, shaking her head.

“No,” she said. “Were you expecting a friend or something?”

“No,” I replied in a rather high voice. “It’s nothing. Forget about it.”

The others looked at me curiously but I ignored them. It became a concrete fact that I was the only one who could see the girl.

As we approached the gate, I swallowed and steeled my nerves. I braced myself to walk past the ghost, and after we all did, I decided to take my phone out of my pocket, pretended to look at the time and then used the phone’s reflective black screen to spy on the ghost behind me. Blue faced, I could see her walking right behind us.

Oh man, I thought. She’s following us. She’s totally following us!

She followed us down the roads we trekked and the different paths we took. After reaching a fork in the road, me and the rest of the club went our separate ways. But even then, the girl still followed me and Yuna on our way home. And no one else ever noticed her.

The whole time, she was engrossed with just staring at me and Yuna. I tried not to look at her, but it was hard to resist. I’m not ashamed to admit that I was scared out of my mind.

“Ow!”

I glanced back and saw the ghost crouched down, pressing her hands on her forehead. It looked like she accidentally walked into a utility pole and got a bump on her head for it. 

I was sort of surprised. I didn’t think ghosts could walk into things and get hurt. There were even tears welling up from her eyes.

And then a computer lady voice spoke behind me.

“What’s wrong, Hisao?” it asked.

I turned around to see Yuna looking at me. I hesitated to answer, but knowing my silence would just make things worse for me, I lied and said I saw a cat. Yuna seemed to have bought it because she turned around without saying another word.

I took the chance to peek at the ghost. She still had her hand on the head bump, but she had otherwise recovered and was focused once again on following us.

Ah, what do I do? I wondered. At this rate, she’ll follow us home, and I didn’t like the idea of my house becoming haunted.

But just as I wondered if I should just run away and drag Yuna with me, I felt a tug on my sleeve and jumped.

“Yikes!” I cried out. “That scared me! What is it, Yuna?”

Yuna had been the one who tugged on my sleeve.

She was frantically pointing at something with one hand while wildly waving the other. Puzzled over my cousin’s panic, I turned around and to my horror, I saw smoke rising from the direction of our house.

I forgot all about the ghost stalking us and instantly broke into a run. 

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