Semester 1 2014-2015 School Year Week 8
I opened my eyes, seeing Ichizen. How was that possible? I inspected my clothes, noticing a high school badge on it. Was this a mind dive into my own memories? No, this was different. I was no longer an observer, but an active participant.
“Are you sure you got enough sleep? You look off today. You know, I have the perfect medicine for things like that,” Ichizen asked, looking at me.
“No, I’m fine. Ichizen, tell me something, what class are we in right now?” I asked, looking down at my desk.
“It’s history class. Are you sure you don’t need to go to the nurse’s office?” Ichizen questioned.
“Michi, do you know the answer to this question?” the teacher interrupted our conversation.
“No, sir, I do not know. But, I can tell you the answer to the question you asked yesterday,” Ichizen replied, a foolish expression on his face.
“I should have known better. Tomo, what about you?” the teacher asked.
“What was the question again?” I asked.
“Oh, that’s a surprise. You normally never ask. Let’s see, it was this….,” the teacher repeated.
The answer eluded me. Had this ever happened to me before? No, if something like this ever occurred, I would have remembered for sure.
“I…. don’t know,” I finally responded.
“Tomo, are you sure you’re okay?” the teacher asked, looking at me with concern.
“Yes, we can be idiots together today! High five!” Ichizen said, raising his hand in the air.
Sighing, I ignored Ichizen. Waiting for the class to end, I stared up at the board, but my thoughts were elsewhere. When the bell finally rang, I stood up, having no idea what my next class was.
“Ichizen, what’s our next class?” I asked, putting away the notebook on my desk.
“What do you mean? It’s lunch, right? Don’t tell me they changed that to a class now? No, I can’t accept that. We need to protest!” Ichizen shouted.
“Forget I asked,” I said, walking away.
I headed down to the lunchroom, walking through the sliding doors. Finding an empty table, I sat down and pulled out my phone, discovering the date was November 2014.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing at our table?” a girl exclaimed.
I looked up, seeing a group of five girls. They wore red ribbons in their hair with a special insignia woven into their school badges. Who were these people again?
“I know you. You’re Tomo Yuki. The one who hangs out with the idiot,” another girl said, peering into my face.
“And you are?” I asked, staring right back at her.
“You don’t know who we are. A disgrace to the school and your family,” a third girl shouted, anger on her face.
“That didn’t tell me anything. So, who are you? I’m not kidding around, I seriously don’t know you are,” I retorted, glaring at them.
“We’re the school idols. If you don’t know our faces, then you haven’t attended our numerous events. We just performed at the assembly yesterday,” the fourth girl answered, flipping her hair.
“Does anyone even go to those?” I shot back.
“Of course they do. In fact, students from other schools even come and see us perform,” the first girl answered.
“Wow, they must really be bored if they want to do that,” I mocked.
Before I could insult them further, five men arrived. Their badges contained a similar pattern as the group of girls. Instead of red ribbons, they wore red armbands on their left sleeve.
“Is something the matter?” one of the guys asked.
“Yeah, we were discussing how bad our school was. It turns out no one here likes these girls, so they have to resort to getting students from other schools to boost attendance,” I answered.
“What? How dare you say that! We are the proud school idols. No one mocks us like that,” a second guy shouted.
I had more snarky comments, but Ichizen showed up. He took a seat at the table, not acknowledging the growing tension at all. My friend bit into his sandwich, looking at everyone with confusion.
“Why’s everyone staring at me? Is my sandwich that good? I can share if you want. I still have two more. They’re really tasty. I swear on my bad grades they are,” Ichizen said, taking out two more sandwiches.
“No one wants your expired sandwiches. We want recognition. Damn it. Praise us!” the third guy shouted, flinging Ichizen’s sandwiches on the floor.
“Hey! Don’t hurt the sandwich! It did nothing wrong to you! Respect it! Praise the sandwich after you threw it on the ground! Apologize!” Ichizen shouted.
“Who do you think you are? It’s just a cheap sandwich. I’m sure you probably bought it for a dollar somewhere cheap!” the guy said.
“Do you understand the power of the sandwich? Let me tell you something! First, I bought the bread at the grocery store. Second, I spent thirty minutes inspecting the ham to make sure that it was optimal! Third, I cut the cheese myself with my own knife. This took effort! You will understand if you take a bite! Long live the sandwich!” Ichizen argued, bending down to pick up his sandwich.
“It turns out that you ain’t getting it then. Looks like you wasted your time!” a fourth guy said, stepping on the sandwich.
I looked around, observing the reactions of students around us. Some watched with amusement, while others ignored the commotion. A few people exited the lunchroom right away, wanting no involvement with this at all.
“Release your foot from the sandwich or you will face the wrath of the sandwich,” Ichizen commanded, his eyes blazing with anger and passion.
“How about you shove off and stop talking about this stupid sandwich!” the last guy said, stepping on the second sandwich.
Ichizen stared at them and finished chewing. He looked around the lunchroom, surveying it. I sat there, sighing. Should I help him or just let him do his own thing? Best to leave him to it.
“Okay, I’ll give you one last chance to apologize. You’ve hurt the sandwich and I want us to all get along,” Ichizen decided.
“No. We want you to get over there in that corner so we can beat the crap out of you,” their leader directed.
Ichizen sighed and climbed on top of the table. Everyone in the lunchroom became silent, staring at him. He eyed the five guys and then leaped from the table. His knees collided into the leader, dropping him to the floor. He grabbed a chair and bashed it his back. The rest charged at Ichizen but he avoided all of them.
He banged the chair on the table and swung. Ichizen struck one in the head, another in the knees, and one in the stomach. The last man backed off, pleading for mercy. Ichizen threw the chair down and kicked one of the garbage bins over. He grabbed the last member of the original five, hurling him into the garbage bin. Ichizen pushed his head further into the bin, keeping it there.
“Apologize! Apologize to the sandwich! Do it! Don’t ever disrespect the sandwich again or I will find you!” Ichizen shouted, plunging the man’s head in and out of the garbage bin.
“Okay, I give! I give! I love sandwiches! I’ll eat them for the rest of my life, I swear!” the guy pleaded.
Ichizen moved over to the leader and placed a sandwich onto the chair, whipping the idol’s head down into the it. He tore off a piece of the sandwich, sticking it into the man’s mouth. Ichizen then repeatedly smacked the leader’s head over the chair until blood came out.
“Appreciate the sandwich! Now! Do you taste it? That amazing blend of grains and meat, along with cheese’s softness,” Ichizen shouted.
“I don’t appreciate anything. It still sucks,” the leader gasped, spitting out the sandwich.
Ichizen threw everyone else but the leader into the garbage bin. He shoved another sandwich into the leader’s mouth, tossing him onto the table. By now, the female huddled in the corner, tears streaming down from their eyes.
“What are sandwiches to you?” Ichizen asked, picking up another chair.
“Sandwiches are ass,” the leader said, blood dripping from his forehead.
“It’s time for some re-education. Repeat after me, sandwiches are the best! Sandwiches are life! Sandwiches are life!” Ichizen yelled.
Ichizen squeezed the leader’s head between two chairs and jumped on top of the table. Oh damn, this did not look good.
“You know that sandwiches are the best after this!” Ichizen shouted.
Ichizen jumped into the air and with his right foot, stomped on the upper chair. There was a thud and the upper chair slid down to the floor. I heard a crack during Ichizen’s stomp and the leader’s head remained stationary.
“Sand…best!” the leader gurgled before more blood came spilling out.
Ichizen nodded with a solemn look, giving the leader a thumbs up. He sat back down again, as if nothing happened, and sipped from his thermos.
“We should be escaping now, Ichizen,” I said, looking at him.
“No, it’s fine. Justice has been dealt. All is well again. We have nothing to fear for we were righteous,” Ichizen declared.
“That doesn’t fix the fact we have someone with a broken jaw, crying girls, and four people in a garbage can,” I said.
“Nah, it’s all good,” Ichizen disagreed.
Two teachers arrived, disbelief on their faces. One stood there in shock, his mouth hanging open for a good minute. The other instructor immediately checked up on the leader.
“Michi…. what…. I have no words,” the teacher said.
“Sandwiches were threatened. It had to be done,” Ichizen said, nodding his head.
“Sandwiches? What…. but…. sandwiches?” the teacher asked, looking at the bloody sandwich.
“You understand, I can see it in your eyes. You too are a sandwich man!” Ichizen declared, grasping the teacher’s shoulder.
The teacher stared at Ichizen and nodded. For real? The other teacher finally recovered, calling an ambulance. Ten minutes later, paramedics arrived with a stretcher and inquired about what exactly happened.
“This was a fight over sandwiches?” one of the paramedics asked, disbelief on her face.
“You know, sandwiches, they are special,” Ichizen replied.
“Right…. um we’ll be taking him now,” the paramedic said, shaking her head.
What had I just seen? There was a freaking fight over a sandwich. How…. what was going through Ichizen’s mind? Man, this was more surprising than someone using powers.
“So, are you going to eat lunch, Yuki?” Ichizen asked, finishing off the drink in his thermos.
“No, not after what I just saw. Sorry I just need to not talk to you for the entire day,” I shook my head.
I looked around the cafeteria and saw no one eating. Everyone stared down at their food, too shocked or disgusted.
“Michi, while you will not be punished for this, I do expect you to clean up,” the shocked teacher informed him.
“I understand. By the way, are you a sandwich man too?” Ichizen asked, eying the teacher with a critical look.
“Why does that matter? Just clean up already!” the teacher stammered.
“Hmm, you are an introverted sandwich man. Do not be afraid. It is okay to reveal your love,” Ichizen concluded, nodding his head.
The teacher walked away and Ichizen put away the chairs. Tearing out a piece of notebook paper, he wrote “Battle Scarred, Immediate Medical Attention Needed” and slapped it on them. He pulled on a pair of plastic gloves and picked up the pieces of sandwiches. As he gathered them up, he gave a small prayer for each one. After dumping them all into the nearest garbage bin, he stood there in silence and bowed.
