Eternal Malediction (RE)

Chapter 86: Chapter 52: The Statement of ...

The clock in the principal’s office ticked louder than it should have.

Tanaka sat with one leg crossed over the other, expression blankly pleasant as the principal went on a tirade about honour, conduct and representing the school with dignity.

”Do you have any idea,” the principal’s voice thundered, ”how your behaviour reflects on this institution?”

Tanaka blinked once. ”Vaguely.”

The principal’s temple pulsed.

”You humiliated our academy in front of hundreds of spectators!”

”Technically, I humiliated myself if you think about it,” Tanaka corrected, ”and I think I did it quite gracefully.”

Silence.

The vice-principal scribbled something violently on a clipboard.

”Enough!” the principal snapped. ”Effective immediately, you’re suspended from our college. For 2 weeks. You’ll write a formal apology to the organisers, and you’ll meet with the student union to discuss disciplinary...”

”So, I get a few days off?” Tanaka cut in, smiling faintly.

The principal slammed his palms on the desk. ”Out!”

Tanaka stood and bowed politely. ”Understood, sir. I’ll apologise extra sincerely.”

He left before the man could throw a stapler at him.

The group sat in silence.

The rhythmic clatter nearby.near by.

Kieran stared out the window. Brock leaned forward, hands clasped as if praying for patience. Roy simply stared at Tanaka, unblinking.

Tanaka, meanwhile, looked disturbingly serene with chin in hand, eyes distant.

”You’re thinking about her again, aren’t you?” Kieran muttered.

Tanaka sighed dreamily. ”She had such intensity in her eyes... like she could slice through me with a single glare. Beautiful, really.”

The moment he exhaled wistfully, all three of them exploded.

Later that day, after the chaos of faculty meetings and half-hearted apologies, Tanaka found himself on the school roof.

The wind played with his hair as he lay sprawled across the concrete, hands behind his head, eyes on the cloudless sky.

Footsteps approached.

Roy.

He stopped beside him, squinting down. ”Are you planning to sleep through your punishment?”

Tanaka smirked. ”It’s called spiritual recovery.”

Roy sat beside him, silent for a while.

”You really don’t care, do you?”

Tanaka shrugged. ”I care. Just... differently.”

”About what?”

He hesitated, eyes flicking toward the horizon.

”About moments, I guess. Everyone’s so busy trying to prove something they forget to feel it.”

He smiled faintly. ”I didn’t want to fight her like an opponent. I just wanted her to see me.”

Roy glanced at him.

The cynic in Roy wanted to call it idiotic. The human in him... wanted to understand it.

”You’re still an idiot,” Roy muttered.

Tanaka grinned. ”That’s the plan.”

The fallout was immediate.

Clips of Tanaka’s match flooded the net: the forfeit, the bow, the stunned silence. All stitched together with dramatic music and with shitty captions.

Within a day, ”I can’t be asked” trended as a meme. Students started quoting it during morning drills. Teachers panicked.

The principal nearly had a breakdown after someone edited the school anthem into a remix of Tanaka’s forfeit scene.

Kieran was forced into a PR interview with the students from all around campus and even some other people that he didn’t know as well.

Tanaka sat alone in the gym, idly tossing his red match card in the air when his phone buzzed.

A message. Just a random number. ’Meet me at the old Colosseum. Today at midnight.’

He knew who it was.

The Colosseum was empty when he arrived, moonlight spilling through the broken rafters.

Lise stood in the centre, arms crossed, expression sharp enough to cut glass.

”You actually came,” she said flatly.

Tanaka smiled. ”When a beautiful girl sends me mysterious midnight invitations, I try not to be rude.” ℴℴ𝘮

She didn’t laugh.

”That stunt you pulled... Do you think it’s funny?”

He shrugged lightly. ”A little.”

Her glare darkened. ”To you, maybe. But to me, that match was everything. You made a mockery of it.”

He tilted his head. ”You’re saying you wanted to win properly.”

”I wanted to fight properly,” she corrected, voice hard.

For the first time, Tanaka didn’t deflect. He looked at her, really looked, and nodded.

”Alright then,” he said quietly. ”Let’s fight properly.”

No audience. No referees. No rules. Just pride, and something neither of them fully understood.

Afterward, Tanaka found himself back on the roof again two weeks later, faint bruises marking his jaw, a quiet smile on his lips.

Roy joined him, taking one look at his face. ”You lost, didn’t you?”

Tanaka chuckled. ”Of course. But she smiled this time.”

Roy shook his head. ”You’re hopeless.”

”Maybe,” Tanaka said softly, eyes drifting skyward, ”but at least I’m alive to see her another day.”

For a moment, neither spoke. The night air was still, heavy with the scent of rain and unsaid thoughts.

Roy finally murmured, almost to himself:

”Alive, huh...”

And the two of them sat there in silence. The fool and the cynic, both realising, in their own ways, that maybe foolishness was just another form of courage.