Notes: This takes place entirely on a Japanese commuter train. The name 'Takuya' means 'creativity', but mangled to 'Takoya', it means 'octopus store'. 'Yankii' is a punk subculture--if you're a manga nerd, you've probably seen it incorrectly romanized as "yankee". The section headings are days of the week, beginning with Monday.

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[010, Bleach]

「月曜日」

Takuya felt something tug at his school sweater. He peered around his arms—he was clenching a white ringabove his head, and his elbows bashed into his temples every time the train shook.

“Tako, you won’t believe,” Naoki said, tapping the screen of his Gameboy with one hand and pulling apart Takuya's sweater with the other. It had cost ¥7500 simply to embroider the school crest, and so he'd had the same sweater since he was twelve. It was much too short for his arms, and the only way to make himself look less of a freak too big for his clothing was to roll up the sleeves until the tips of his fingers froze. “My Abra just evolved into Alakazam, no Abracadabra or––”

“You’re being loud again.”

Naoki continued to tug, black eyes dancing behind his glasses. “But it’s so. cool. I can’t believe that just happened; I’ve been waiting for weeks––”

The train stopped and everyone slid to the left. Naoki, being hands-free, barreled into Takuya’s side. Takuya held him like an overgrown, acne-riddled baby until the train had emptied itself of about half its passengers, leaving several seats open. They made sure there were no angry old people looking to accost priority seat-takers, and sat. Naoki returned to his Pokémon, Takuya to his daydreaming.

One of the advertising plaques on the wall—Sapporo Premium Yum Beer––began to rattle and shake, its screws loosening to form iron fangs that protruded from the wall. It swung violently back and forth, and the girl seated beside it attempted to hold the frame in place.

Takuya leapt up and pushed it flat against the wall. She pulled a house key from her pocket and finished screwing the sign back in place, though the holes had widened to a space that would keep them in place for little more than a day or so.

He pulled back from the wall, panting, almost. It was then that he noticed how strange the girl was—she had fried her hair blonde with bleach, like some punk Yankii, and hacked it short to produce a yellow bubble around her head. She had thick glasses—like Naoki’s—except hers shielded eyelids caked in green and black, and iPod earbuds that trailed down her neck to conjoin with a necklace that ended in a little wooden owl.

It occurred to him at this point that it probably looked as though he was looking down her shirt, like some hentai with an owl fetish.

As soon as the train stopped, he dragged Naoki by the Gameboy onto the station platform—only before realizing he was three stops too early.

「火曜日」

Naoki had contracted a mysterious illness overnight, and so, with bags under his eyes and a mask over his lips, slept next to Takuya on the train the next evening. Takuya had to take special pains to keep him sitting upright and not sleeping on his lap.

The Yankii girl slipped between two businessmen and grabbed the rings next to Takuya. “Thanks for yesterday,” she said, smiling. “I tend to wreck things when I’m around…you know. People.”

“No problem,” he said, trying to smile back. His mind was a Pokédeck shuffling through a million level-ups, a million buts—she’d forgiven him, apparently, but…

“What’s your name?”

“Fujioka Takuya.”

She dipped her head awkwardly. “Tanaka Henry.”

“Henry? Isn’t that an—“

“American guy’s name? Yes. My parents are…confused, sometimes.”

Takuya let out a half snort. They looked at each other, not daring to let out more than little gasps of laughter at a time.

Naoki stirred and sneezed into a Kleenex. “You’re a freak, Takoya.”

Henry smirked.

「水曜日」

“Your nickname is Takoya?”

Takuya folded his arms across his chest. Naoki was grinning from behind his surgical mask—there was that sick impish twinkle in his eyes that had caused many a toilet drowning, back in primary school. “Your name is Henry, so.”

“At least I’m named after a human.”

“Takoya. That’s a good one.” She picked at her nails. “The public school kids would make a mess of you, you know that? It’s a good thing you’re crazy smart. Or crazy rich, one of the two.”

“Takoya’s just crazy.”

She grinned and craned her neck towards the window. “That’s true, too.”

He tried not to stare. “You’re not…from here, are you?”

“From Osaka,” she said, still looking out the window. “My dad’s a professor—economics.”

“That’s…cool,” Takuya said, the words in his brain not quite matching up with the words in his mouth.

“No, not really.”

“In a…not-cool way.”

She smirked. "Yeah. I actually managed to have one of the girls from my class come over for dinner, and he threw statistics and trade agreements at her until she fainted. Haven't seen her since. Probably made her into a chart: 'Number of Guests Bored to Death, Tanaka Household'..."

"I'm sure it's not that bad."

She shrugged. "To everyone else, it seems like that."

Music began to filter through the speakers, and he slung his bag over his shoulder. "I'm not everyone else."

Henry wrapped a piece of her hair around her finger. "Neither am I."

「木曜日」

The seat next to Takuya was empty—Naoki had finally achieved a fever high enough for his parents to keep him home. Feeling lonely and slightly self-conscious, Takuya set his schoolbag on his lap and tried to appear as unapproachable as possible. A balding man in a Kashiwa Lasers sweatshirt ignored his subliminal messaging and sat in the empty seat. Takuya could feel the fabric of his pants touching his hip. Why this pained him so, he wasn’t sure.

Henry waded through more people and stood at the rings in front of him, picking at her nail polish. “Where’s the Pokémaster?”

“At home. Vomiting.”

“Poor thing.”

More people crowded onto the train, forcing Henry forward until her knees were touching Takuya’s. It was awkward, but they both kept their eyes fixed on either the windows or each others' eyes, and pretended not to notice.

Takuya tried to squelch the warm feeling in his stomach, but wondered if she didn’t feel the same way, too.

「金曜日」

“He’s really sick, isn’t he?”

“About forty degrees.”

“Ouch.”

Henry had changed out of her school clothes and was wearing black jeans and boots that would have made Takuya’s block teacher weep with shame. Takuya tried to act as though he wouldn’t be thinking of them long after he got off the train, and that he wouldn’t be thinking of her all weekend long, and that he wouldn’t be thinking of her, ever.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, pretending not to care.

“Yeah. My friend Tamaki and I—“

“A guy?”

“…a-huh. We’re going to go see some cheap Korean movie; it’ll be great. It’s kind of over by Takeshita so we usually get crepes and stuff afterwards.”

Takuya forced a smile. “Sounds fun.”

She nodded and somehow pulled a tube of chapstick from her pocket. He tried not to watch as she spread it across her lips, and busied his mind with he’sfathe’sforeignhe’sgay, which, surprisingly, made him less angry, but more awkward.

The train lurched through a tunnel and Henry fell forward, her forearms crashing into the space beside Takuya’s shoulders. His eyes crossed but he could smell her—shampoo, perfume, cherry lip-gloss—and in spite of himself, touched his hand to her arm.

Henry kissed him.

She tasted like bubblegum.

It was brief, but it counted. She pulled away just as light began to flood the car, and they looked at each other, flushed.

“So you want to come too?”

“I don’t have…clothes.”

“You won’t be the only freak wandering around Harajuku in a uniform like it’s cool.”

“Sure, uhm…” He fished his cell phone out of his pocket. “Call my mom? She’ll think it’s great that it’s you and not, uhm. Naoki.”

“Naoki’s a troublemaker?”

Takuya smirked. “Occasionally.”

He punched in the number and handed it to her. She held the phone to her ear. “Hello? Mrs. Fujioka? Mhm, yes, this is Tanaka Henry, I’m Takuya’s friend from school…”

Something began to rattle.

He looked to his left. There was a Sapporo Premium Yum Beer plaque, once again threatening to fall on him. Henry rolled her eyes and pushed a strand of yellow behind her ear.

It was a good thing, he reflected, that she’d already asked him along.