Last Remnants

Keiko is steadfast; she wrings her brain dry and tries to come up with the answer but is struggling. “Yeah, uh, I don’t remember right now, but maybe I will soon!”

“Ah, Keiko, well, try and make it fast, okay?” Usagi pats her head, encouraging her.

“No matter. For the time being, we have more important matters to discuss. I’m assuming she asked you all about the missing students? I hope you all chose the same option as I did and lied to her. We can absolutely not let her know.” Ishimoto carries the important questioning.

“Yeah, yeah, egghead, I ain’t tell her nothin’. Although my guesswork leads me to think that the cops are going to be all over this place in the next coming days,” says Okazaki.

“Yes, most definitely. This is bad for us for a multitude of reasons, including the obvious chokers. As Usagi said, to some, they are a fashion statement over being an absolute Remnant, but those who share the fashion are cult members, so they can’t exactly be in the clear with that. I seriously doubt many will link it to the old heroes,” Ishimoto says.

“So what all are you suggesting? That we lay low or something? How can we do that when we need to attend our classes, Mr. Planethead?” Usagi teased.

“Hey! That’s a wonderful name for him! Mr. Planethead and Mr. Nuke Happy, taking over the world! Muahaha!” Keiko jumps around, making fun.

“Keiko, do calm yourself. It’s not feasible to do. We’ll just have to try and not draw attention to us.”

Staying in the shadows isn’t something they can accomplish. Being in a public place they have to attend or else draw unwanted attention will be a challenge for them. They all reside back in the lunchroom for the remaining ten minutes before heading to their next class. The day goes on, and they all go to the music room, taking their instruments for their daily practice.

They’ve been talented in their respective fields since a young age. The symphony creates sense vibrations through the air, pleasing to the ears of everyone in the class, including the music teacher, Mr. Toshio. He conducts them and brings them along the path of a sheeted paper sung with wavering notes.

“Excellent work, class. You’re making great progress in this work,” his smooth yet slightly rocky voice boasts.

The majority of the class stays perfectly in rhythm. For most, it’s escapism from the harsh reality. The door itself has the words plastered now. “Leave all your worries outside here.” An encouragement to them all as the bleakness of yesterday set in. One classmate misses a note now. The rest of the class stays on until another falls off the train of crescendo. One after the other, they pitter down and mess up as the music teacher stares on.

“Come on, class. Don’t mess up now. You’re doing great.” His words of encouragement fall on deaf ears, the class is winding down, and the piece concludes on a sour note. This isn’t ideal for anyone, and the group let out a soft sigh.

“Seems even in here people can’t let their worries melt away. I can’t say I blame them. This is all awful as hell,” Usagi declares.

“Yeah, can’t say we wouldn’t be in the same boat if Shoji was taking the forever nap. I would have never gotten over it, no, no.” Keiko turns her head toward him, and he is slumped over half-asleep.

“Unless, of course, he’s already dead! Wake up, sleepyhead. Come on!” She tries to get his attention back from drifting, but he only gives a half smile.

“Aww, come on now… music is over, time for sleepy times, dramedy, dreamy, time…” He snores.

“That doesn’t even relate, Shoji,” Ishimoto butts in.

“No matter. I imagine the class won’t go on much longer. I say we should all meet up after. There’s a lot we have to discuss in private.”

“Truer words haven’t been spoken in a long time. Yeah, we need to meet up somewhere, but we can’t be around many people.” Okazaki places his instrument back in its designated spot. The rest follow, ready to head out soon.

“Oh, oh! I know just the place! Ice cream shop!”

“Ice cream shop? The place we went to yesterday, Keiko?” Takei asks.

“Yeah, yeah! Remember, there weren’t many people there and big chairs in the corner of the shop? Perfect place to have some top-secret conversations, don’t you think?’

“Sounds ridiculous, but I can’t think of any other place. Now that Shoji’s parents are back, we don’t really have a super private place to be. Plus, some ice cream? Yeah, I want some.” Usagi chuckles and gives a smirk and a playful wink.

“It’s settled. Everyone tell your parents we’re going to study at the ice cream shop and we’ll meet there in about an hour. I for sure know my parents won’t let me out unless I say.” Ishimoto packs his things and heads out.

“Mine wouldn’t care, so I’ll just head there! See you all soon, okay?” Keiko skips out, and everyone agrees, heading home.

#

Takei sets her backpack in her room. She goes to her bed and sits on the edge. Her father won’t be home until late tonight, and even if he were miraculously sober, he wouldn’t care if she was here or not. It hurts her heart. It used to be her father and mother checking in on her. The late-night terrors she used to have, her hiding beneath her blanket from the monsters that lurked under her bed, or the faded shirt in the corner being an imaginary friend who broke their vows of friendship and they weren’t speaking; everything so different, kinder, more innocent.

She takes in the ceiling. It’s dull and faded, and the only thing lighting it up is the hanging lights and paper birds she made when she was younger. An origami her mother had taught her how to make, though she doubts she can create them now with the same efficiency.

Her hand rests on her collarbone and rides up, the rough stone-like charm. She courses it through her fingers and notices the holographic nature. It’s partially see-through, and the figure is as if a gem cut by an experienced gemologist. The mind of hers can’t help but wonder how this is possible. Magic? Technology? The answers are so evasive, and what’s more evasive, why all of them? Surely, nothing was that special about us.