Akira Park and The Black Book (2)

Akira didn't see anything else from the Black Book, the rest were blank again. He turned pages from the previous day and they simply sat there untouched. They all looked familiar as he skimmed through them in his head.

5/6/21 2:36 PM was on the first chapter he started with yesterday, a Saturday.

5/8/21 4:16 PM was on the second chapter he finished with yesterday.

5/10/21.

"Why doesn't this have a time?" Akira thought until slowly realizing, "These entries were written every after two days."

He recalled the last sentence of the last chapter.

"I thought the dates were for artistic purposes." he said to himself. "And the first day . . . "

He was silent.

"This book doesn't have a publishing company's logo, an author name—or anything. What the—? Is this . . . some kind of "magical book?""

Akira scoffed and leaned back against his chair thinking, "You're merely a paper back! A fragile and cheap cover material!"

He remembered how prim it still looked despite being found on his brother's floor and also the pages he's never seen before seemingly appearing once he woke up this morning.

"Is that why you were on my desk with the light on? YeEsh." he shivered and backed away, defensively facing the book as he made a stance with a wavering glare. "Prove it, then . . ."

Akira stood there, menacingly.

The book did nothing.

His cell phone buzzed.

Akira faced his drawer beside him and saw "Kusanagi Hiroko" calling, a young girl's face beaming at his own as he quickly averted his eyes. His brows dug deeper. "Ah, fuck."

With a sigh Akira slid to call and placed it against his ear. "What."

"Hello, Paruko-kun!" the young girl immediately twittered and he cringed.

"Stop calling me that." Akira hissed. "It's pronounced "bak"—Why are you even calling??"

"Honestly I was bored."

"And I'm introverted. Leave me alone."

"WAIT WAIT WAIT!! YOU'RE NOT EVEN SEEING MY LITTLE FACE DON'T GOO!!"

Akira distanced his phone away before returning it to say, "I've already been bestowed upon such horror when you decided your call."

Kusanagi boohooed. "I can barely understand what you said."

"What do you even wanna talk about." Akira said. "Your voice is too loud. And annoying. This early in the morning . . . "

"I just wanted to say happy birthday."

Akira's eyes contorted to confusion as he cocked his head toward the Black Book.

"My birthday isn't even in two days—" Akira realized what he just said.

"Yeah! That's because it's MY birthday today!" Kusanagi smirked. "How could you not remember! That's impossible—! Anyway c'mon and greet me, Puck-kun~"

"That's STILL not how you pronounce it." Akira sighed. "And I didn't forget if I hadn't decided on remembering it."

Kusanagi pouted before saying in broken English, "Jasuto grit me on mai birsday, bro. I didu notu caru yu for nossing."

"Don't call me "bro" either!" Akira laughed in distaste.

"Fine. "Happy birthday, Kusanagi."" He said in perfect English. Returning to Japanese, "There, I did what you wanted . . . Why ask me even??"

Kusanagi smiled against her phone as she heard Akira's returning sigh. "Thanks, Park. My family forgot."

Akira didn't hear what she last said, before he could ask she immediately went on.

"Any plans for today? You don't attend "Sunday Service" and all that, right?"

Akira was silent before replying, "No. My family isn't that religious."

"Wanna go out with me? I don't think we live that far, to be honest."

"Even so," Akira smiled. "I'm not interested. Bye now."

Kusanagi sighed. "You gonna finish a book again?"

"Maybe. What were you going to do? Won't you eat out with Katsuragi Wu, Yokohama Nobuhiko or even that Ayanami Asuka to celebrate?"

"They're all pretty busy with their own families and stuff. I wouldn't want to bother them."

Akira hummed in reply.

"Anyway, sorry for disturbing you—"

"Don't apologize." Akira said. "Thanks for calling me, though. Happy 14th birthday, Kusanagi Hiroko."

"Oh, YOU do REME~!"

Akira ended the call.

He stared at his phone for a short while and read "Sunday May 9 7:37 AM". He scrolled down to type his password but closed it halfway, glimpsing the Music and flashlight icons from home screen. He placed his phone back on the drawer, then looked at the dark curtains draping over his slightly bright window. He inched it open—too bright. He slid it close. Akira left the lamp on while going for his shelf beside it. He scanned through, then pulled out a leather bound book.

Sitting on his desk, pen in hand, he opened the book after a few pages of black ballpoint, it had an opening message on the first page:

"Property of Park Akira. A documentation of his thoughts starting for the first year of junior highschool."

There were writings from early April:

"Everyone keeps staring at my face. Again."

"I feel empty, it's dreadful."

"Others are complaining if I'm mute or not."

"My seatmate beside keeps wanting to dreadfully engage in conversation. Will I ever get some damn peace?"

"Nosy classmates keep attempting to steal this journal. My seatmate succeeds on what I have failed."

"I keep being teased. "Kawaii" and "Chibi" are being rudely thrown into my face."

"My seatmate is prying too much on problems that doesn't concern him. Nosy."

"Somehow I'm being called a cripple by upperclassmen."

"Yokohama Nobuhiko, my seatmate who couldn't let me handle my own damn problems stopped the harrassment with the help of Mr. Gotoge lecturing the upperclassmen. Tch. It's fine, I guess. What-the-fuck-ever. Less bothersome people around me the better. Yokohama's not too bad, though."

"I can't do this anymore. I can now confirm hearing my first name from other people's mouths like Yokohama is utterly strange. I'll have to wait until I snap to make him stop in a natural progression."

"Yokohama joined the Question Club! Mrs. Tainaka allowed it. Now we can officially delve into existentialism together. Unfortunately, Kusanagi mostly plans on using my idea for slice of life phenomena. The audacity!"

"The students in my class talk too much. Nevermind, the whole school does. And it pains me."

"A new member has joined Question Club: Katsuragi Wu. He brings up interesting topics concerning societal problems but rarely engages on our activities, often distracting Yokohama and Kusanagi with him in his gaming. His drawings are somehow impressive. Kusanagi and him are from the same class in 1-B, they sit next to each other, and have become closer in just a few weeks than I've ever been with her for seven years. Oddly enough, they seemingly fit each other's aesthetic and I'm perfectly content with that. I wonder if they'll consider dating."

"Great, not many else are interested in Question Club! Thank youuu."

"Ah, shit. one of my pursuers has been too persistent, Kusanagi has accepted them into Question Club, too! Fuck! The scary thing is, she managed to take the seat in front of me. Fuckkkkkkk— I should have limited the admission to only 4 members! God so help me."

"I feel I've been getting followed. My elder brother repaired my bike."

"Whenever I enter the classroom, it's nice nobody's around."

"My boring aura emulating disinterest has turned some classmates off. A success on my part."

"Why do I still feel alone? I'd rather be at home."

"The back seat by the window cliché is useful. I wouldn't have to burden myself with the sight of people walking at the hallway to gawk at my face, nor easily reach me by the door—but they'd also impede my escape. Damn it."

"Another student who wasn't murmuring to themselves, the 5th one from another senior class, told me how "handsome" I was. The first term had just started, and it hasn't even passed two months. I'd rather not imagine how many people plan on confessing now that I'm a developing teenager. The love they seek is disturbing."

"How has this dreadful feeling gone worse?"

"I think other people are just confused by keeping their pretenses of what they think they should be, based on the media they consume, not knowing who they are, including me into their shallow fulfillment."

The last he'd had written, May 6, 2021 Thursday 2:36 PM:

"I have been hiding near the rooftop door where nobody could find me. It's a bit dark, but calming when I listen to music. Mr. Gotoge wasn't livid enough not to let me go earlier than the rest. I promised him I'd perfect whatever test he'd have again. Sometimes I want to fail more. I wonder if they'd still think high of me then. But if I do "it would be such a waste"

"I think I've grown too accustomed on my pedestal that leaving it on purpose feels strange to me. Oh no, I'm becoming more narcissistic. I don't want to stay in this place for too long. I'd like to sleep but the floor is unhygienic. I'd take the infirmary beds but I fear the fate of my vulnerable body should it be discovered by someone else. I want to go home. Other people wish for me to grow tall, so I could become more "perfect". How does passing the average height make you reach perfection? Is it meant to heighten my "superiority" against the? How human beings create their hierarchies, so questionable and overwhelming. But, if I was tall as my older brother and mom, would I be capable of defending myself better? Would I intimidate enough to be frequently left alone? I could only imagine. Would . . . I be able to protect others?"

Akira thought of Kusanagi, recalling she was about half a feet taller. He closed his eyes then read on through his thoughts.

"I wonder what it would have been like to never have had a brain like mine. I wonder if I wasn't cursed with the capability to store so much information. I wonder if it would be best to think less altogether. . . . Kusanagi's blasting my phone for Question Mark Club meeting! Shit, school's over already?"

Akira remembered him pause in thought to have written, "Most of the Question Club members are my friends—except for the stalker—aren't they?"

Akira's mouth opened.

"I don't have . . . close friends, you could say." was what he had said at dinner.

Akira didn't look at the book.

"And . . . when was my Friday entry?" Akira thought to himself.

He remembered this notebook from the shelf. He placed it there on Thursday night. How could . . . he had forgotten? It had been two days prior. Then just before 6:43 PM last night, had he not turned off the lamp light before leaving for dinner? Akira glowered at the Book. "I'll write my thoughts away like I always have. I never forget, that was just a mistake because I'm human. I'll think about it if you really are magical . . ."

He turned the Book on its back and put it across the room as farther away from him as possible.