Chapter CX: The Reluctant Uncle
A gust of wind whips through a guy's hair as he zooms down the winding asphalt road, his slim figure hunched slightly forward like some budget anime protagonist who forgot his helmet at home. Again.
The motorcycle beneath him whines in complaint—partly due to his reckless weaving, partly because it hasn't had an oil change since the last World Cup.
"Just 9.3 kilometers," he mutters, eyes squinting at his cracked speedometer. "We'll survive, right, Banshee-chan?"
The motorcycle backfires in response.
"Right... that's enthusiasm."
He leans into the last turn as the looming structure of Shinomiya High School comes into view. The city, bustling with its usual blend of pedestrian chaos and blinking LED signs, fades as he pulls into the school parking lot. He kicks the stand and pats the motorcycle's side.
"Don't die yet."
Inside the school building, Ms. Soumei, the teacher-slash-editor-in-chief of the school newsletter, is already sipping tea with Mamoru, the school's suspiciously silent camera guy who's always chewing on sunflower seeds for some reason.
The door swings open.
"Good Afternoon, Takeshi," Ms. Soumei says with a smile. "Have you done the shots I've been asking about for the articles?"
Takeshi closes the door behind him with exaggerated drama, as if he's walked in on a mission briefing. He drops his bag onto the floor with a sigh.
"Due to unprecedented activities at home, ma'am," he says, sliding into the room like a lazy ninja, "I think I'mma just do it here."
"Alright," Ms. Soumei nods, clearly used to his brand of excuses. "Just make sure we have something by tomorrow."
Mamoru doesn't even blink. Probably didn't hear. Sunflower seeds have taken over his brain.
Takeshi collapses into the plush couch like a man who's fought dragons. In reality, he fought his little brother over the bathroom this morning. He whips out his phone, instinctively opening YourBook, the platform everyone uses when they're pretending to be productive.
Scroll. Scroll. Meme. Cat video. Memes. A short video of someone slapping a rice cooker—
His thumb freezes mid-scroll.
"Missing: Kota Mizushiro and Akiko Chisai. Last seen — unknown."
Posted by Asahi, one of the school's more active posters at the least. The caption is serious. The tone? Ominous.
Takeshi blinks.
"Eh?"
"Something wrong?" Ms. Soumei glances over from her laptop.
"Uhh... is this real?" he turns the phone around to show her the post.
Ms. Soumei sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Yes. It's been reported. Their friends already talked to the Prefect of Discipline. It's... concerning. They've been missing for at least a 3 full days. They have been only excommunicated for 2 days according to the Assistant Principal. However, still at Day 1 and missing."
Takeshi leans back into the couch. "That's crazy. Kota's like, the most dependable guy in school."
"And Akiko?" Ms. Soumei asks, watching him.
Takeshi snorts. "She used to call me Uncle."
"...Excuse me?"
"Long story," Takeshi says quickly, waving it off.
"By the way," Ms. Soumei continues, "did you bring the memory card I was asking about? We need it today to store the club's photos."
Takeshi's eyes light up with confidence. "Of course, ma'am! I never forget—"
He opens his bag dramatically, unzips the first pocket. Pens. Notebook. Soggy sandwich. Second pocket. Power bank. Random coin. A spoon?
Third pocket.
Empty.
Fourth—oh wait, there's no fourth.
Panic sets in. A slow horror dawns on his face like a bad Wi-Fi signal. He snaps his fingers.
"Forgot it at home."
Ms. Soumei gives him a deadpan look.
Takeshi points finger guns at her. "I'll be right back."
Outside, he jumps back onto Banshee-chan, slaps the seat apologetically, and starts the engine. It coughs like an asthmatic smoker. Still, he speeds off.
As he zips back toward the countryside and the humble Ishigami residence, the wind cools his face, but his mind heats up with a flood of memories.
Flashback — 11 years ago.
He is five years old, dragging a plush frog in one hand, holding his mother's in the other. The air is humid. The second northernmost province of Luzon, where the mountains lie in the east, and known for its heritage preservation that stretches around him like a giant oven filled with salt and antique chairs. They had moved to the Philippines, to a small town known for its salt beds and handcrafted woodworks made finely out of Narra and mahogany, which is just 8.7 km from the Gem of the North, and the capital of the heritage province.
There, he meets a girl the same age.
Bright eyes. Loud giggle. Red jelly sandals.
"Akiko. Akiko Chisai," his mother says. "She's your relative. You have to be nice."
"What kind of relative?" baby Takeshi asks.
His mom crouches. "Your niece."
"NIECE?" he yells in absolute betrayal. "But she's the same size and age as me!"
"I know, sweetheart. But bloodlines don't care about height and age."
And so began the strangest relationship of his childhood.
Akiko is hyper. Obsessed with cartoons and mangoes. She always trips over flat ground. Takeshi invents a nickname for her that makes both their grandmothers laugh.
"Aking."
A lazy mash-up of Akiko and the Filipino word aking, meaning my.
"My Aking!" he'd yell whenever she stole his toys.
She'd respond, "Uncle Takeshi, NO!"
Sometimes they'd fight over bubble gum. Other times, they'd team up to pester their older cousins. Life was simple, filled with rice fields, kites, and sunburn.
Then, at age six, the Ishigami family returns to Japan.
It's abrupt. A tearful goodbye. Akiko slips him a drawing of a frog and a mango with the words: Don't forget your niece, Aking.
He doesn't.
But over the years, life buries the memory beneath classes, gaming consoles, and microwave ramen. Until one fateful day... at Shinomiya High School, Year 1. It's Orientation and he sees her.
A girl with that familiar shade of chaotic energy. Same laugh. Older, taller—but still tripping over flat ground. She's in Class 1-A. He's in 1-B.
She doesn't recognize him at first. But during the school festival, when he brings out a mango tart—
"Where did you get that?" she asks.
"You always liked mangoes," he says, half-smiling.
She stares.
And then it clicks.
"UNCLE TAKESHI?!"
"Please, not here."
From then on, a strange, quiet bond reformed. They didn't talk every day. But their past gave them a familiarity no one else could touch.
Takeshi leans forward on his motorcycle as he speeds down the road back to the Ishigami family house. The wind whooshes past his ears, and the blur of trees and buildings pass like the pages of a manga he's read too fast. As the cityscape briefly turns to suburban curves, his mind swirls deeper into the vivid memory that began on his ride out of Shinomiya High. It wasn't just about a forgotten memory card anymore—he was riding into the lanes of his past.
Still in flashback mode...
As Senior High begins. He is still at the second section, Class 1-B.
Takeshi is lean, sleepy-eyed, and perpetually late to homeroom—but he's got charm. He discovers the Literature Club thanks to a flier slapped over a vending machine that ate his ¥100 coin.
"You guys wanna join this club or what?" he asks his classmates with a shrug.
Eri, the overly analytical girl who annotates every manga she reads.
Kana, the quiet artist with a pencil always tucked behind her ear.
And Natsuki, the trickster girl who once convinced the whole class their homeroom teacher was an undercover rockstar.
The trio looks at each other and simultaneously shrugs. "Sure."
The four of them walk into the dusty old Literature Club room together.
There, already scribbling something on a whiteboard while simultaneously sipping black coffee like he's the main character in a Dostoevsky novel, stands Isoto Ivanovich—yes, that's his real name, and yes, he insists on the full thing.
"Classmate," Takeshi mutters, raising a brow. "This dude?"
Isoto turns, sees them, and bows dramatically. "Welcome... to my domain."
"Okay, Dracula," Natsuki quips.
The club adviser, a bubbly guy in her 20s wearing a silver necklace with a gold cross, claps his hands and says, "New blood! Just kidding, we're not vampires. Ivanovich make yourself presentable and stop making vampires as your domain. Okay then, please introduce yourselves"
They do. But as Natsuki introduces herself, Isoto's eyes go all sparkly like a magical girl transformation is about to happen... and not in a good way.
"Your aura... It glows with tragic brilliance," Isoto whispers.
Natsuki freezes. "Nope. I'm out." She turns on her heel and bolts out the room so fast her shoe squeaks echo like a dolphin scream.
The rest of the group stares in silence.
"I'll allow that," Kana mumbles.
The adviser nods. "Well, the rest of you, welcome aboard!"
From then on, Takeshi, Eri, and Kana become the backbone of the Literature Club. Their days are filled with spontaneous haikus, passive-aggressive book reviews, and philosophical debates over whether Naruto should've ended earlier. They bond over snacks, obscure quotes, and Isoto's theatrical breakdowns whenever someone critiques Edgar Allan Poe.
Then one day, something changes.
A red-haired, bespectacled guy strolls into the room during club hours, clutching a guitar like it's his soulmate.
"Yo. Name's Asahi. Mind if I chill here?"
They let him stay, and instantly, Takeshi is intrigued. The dude can play anything from emo J-Rock to the Poraemon theme song. Takeshi awkwardly approaches him one afternoon.
"So, uh... you think you could teach me a few chords?" he asks, scratching the back of his neck.
Asahi smirks. "Only if you promise not to play 'Canon in D' like every other romantic wannabe."
Takeshi grins. "Deal."
Thus begins Takeshi's guitar journey. He's bad. Really bad. Like, "dog howling in the distance" bad. But Asahi's patient, and soon enough, Takeshi is strumming out basic progressions while muttering song lyrics under his breath, too shy to sing them aloud.
One afternoon, everything takes a wild turn.
Takeshi heads out to grab some poster materials for a club project. While navigating the maze of campus hallways, he spots a familiar figure—Akiko. Laughing beside her is Kota.
Takeshi freezes behind a vending machine, peeking like a low-budget ninja.
Akiko's eyes crinkle as she smiles at Kota. "You always know how to make things feel lighter."
Kota chuckles, scratching his head. "Maybe it's because I carry all your emotional baggage."
Takeshi's jaw drops. "Did he just—?!" He covers his mouth, pretending he didn't hear that. The sight hits different. Not because he's jealous—but because that's Aking. His tiny "niece" he met from the Philippines yet Japanese. And now she's... all grown up.
It's a bizarre realization that hits him harder than a failed math quiz.
Later that semester, the Literature Club hosts a Team Building event.
Held at the school auditorium, it's full of awkward icebreakers, trust falls that end in bruises, and a role-playing segment that Isoto calls "Love in the Time of Kafka." No one knows what it means, but everyone participates anyway.
During the break, Takeshi roams the hallways and stumbles into the edge of a deep conversation between Kota and Kana, of all people. He hides behind a curtain like a drama club dropout.
"You know, it's really hard to move on," Kota says, voice calm. "But from my perspective, just bug him off. Guys could get really clingy when it comes to girls. It's just like me from junior high school..."
Kota's words flow, full of quiet wisdom and unexpected depth.
"To love a person comes within your heart and not your brain. It only takes matters when intervening factors try to get in. Listen to your heart—who you really want and what you want."
Takeshi's jaw slackens. "Dang... This guy's like the Confucius of romance..."
That night, under the stars outside the campus, Takeshi finds Kota sitting by the benches near the school garden.
"Mind if I sit?" he asks.
Kota gestures with a nod.
"So... love, huh?" Takeshi begins.
Kota turns to him with a knowing smile. "Let me guess, you overheard my conversation?"
Takeshi coughs. "Not... on purpose."
They talk. About Akiko. About life. About how confusing and ridiculous teenage emotions are. Takeshi listens, really listens. And in that moment, Kota becomes more than just the guy dating his niece—he becomes someone Takeshi can genuinely look up to.
"Thanks, Kota," he says sincerely. "You really love her, don't you?"
Kota smiles. "With everything."
Takeshi nods. "Cool. If you ever break her heart, I'll break your guitar."
Kota laughs. "Fair enough. Though you can break any of my instruments. Piano, Organ, Flute, Ocarina, Kalimba, Sax-A-Boom, Otamatone,-"
Takeshi laughs as well, "Ok, but just be careful with her."
One week later, a new drama unfolds.
Takeshi scrolls through YourBook, sipping canned coffee, when a post flashes across his screen.
"This is my uncle—Megumi-chan"
Attached is a photo of him picking his nose while fixing his hair.
Takeshi chokes on his drink. "WHAT THE ACTUAL—?"
He frantically checks the profile. It's a second-year girl with way too many emojis in her posts.
He types a reply.
"Delete this. I don't know you. I am not your uncle. Stop it."
Two minutes later, another post appears.
"He's just shy!! Ily uncle!!!"
Takeshi screams into a pillow. "WHERE DID THIS CHILD EVEN COME FROM?!"
He blocks her. Deletes YourBook for a week. Vows never to sneeze in public again.
And just like that, the flashback ends.
Back in the present day, Takeshi parks his motorcycle in front of the Ishigami house, hops off, and yells, "I'm home for exactly five minutes!"
He dashes into his room, nearly trips on a laundry basket, opens his drawer, and finds the little plastic rectangle of doom: the memory card.
"Gotcha! My Precious!" he exclaims, holding it up like the old creepy creature from King of the Rings.
As he zooms back to Shinomiya High, he lets out a long breath.
"Man... high school's wild."
He grins, revving the motorcycle again.
"Let's get this over with."
Takeshi rockets back to Shinomiya High like he's in a Fast & Furry spin-off nobody asked for. He parks his motorcycle in the same spot he nearly crashed into earlier—now with slightly more dignity—and dashes straight into the school building like a courier on a mission from God.
"S'cuse me! Move! Journalism club business!" he yells, nearly knocking over a first-year holding three liters of soda.
As he swings open the door to the Campus Journalism Club office, the heavy wooden slab crashes against the wall with a theatrical BAM!
Ms. Soumei, who's sipping iced tea from a mason jar that says "Grammar Queen", doesn't even flinch.
Takeshi raises the prized item high like it's a championship belt. "The prodigal memory card returns!"
She lifts a brow. "Congratulations. Would you like a cookie?"
"Depends. Is it chocolate chip?"
"No."
"...Then no."
She snatches the memory card and slides it into the desktop like she's activating a nuclear warhead. The screen lights up instantly, and the saved files pop up. Takeshi leans over her shoulder, almost toppling a poorly balanced stack of printed newsletters.
"Wait," he mutters, looking around. "Where's Mamoru? Isn't this his job too?"
Ms. Soumei gestures to an empty chair with a banana peel on it. "Got food poisoning from an expired tuna onigiri. Journalism is dangerous work."
"Rest in pieces," Takeshi nods solemnly, placing two fingers over his heart.
Then he glances around the room, realizing something.
"By the way... I've been hearing all these weird rumors all day. 'Kota and Akiko are missing.' 'The couple vanished.' 'They turned into pigeons and flew away.' What's really going on and what is the story behind it?"
Ms. Soumei taps her keyboard and clicks open a folder ominously labeled "FOR YOUR EYES ONLY - NOT CLICKBAIT.mp4."
"Alright, Takeshi. But what you're about to see stays in this room. Understand?"
He salutes. "Scout's honor. Though I was kicked out of scouts for lighting a s'more on fire. And not in a good way."
She plays the CCTV footage.
The grainy black-and-white video rolls, showing a small convenience store in the middle of the night. A clerk behind the counter is dozing off, surrounded by stacks of cup ramen. Then—two hooded individuals enter.
Takeshi squints. "They're robbing the place?"
The two figures move with practiced stealth. One hops over the counter and grabs the register; the other shuffles with a backpack, stuffing in packs of cigarettes, gummy worms, and a bottle of shampoo.
The faces are barely visible under the hoodies. But there's something...
"Wait a sec," Takeshi leans closer. "That one's hair... is that blonde?"
Ms. Soumei pauses the footage. She zooms in. Sure enough, under the shadowy hood, the long strands are blonde—not blue like Kota's.
She rewinds and zooms in on the second one. Blonde again. A shorter style, but definitely not Akiko's signature violet waterfall of aesthetic power.
"Yeah," Takeshi says, squinting like he's in a CSI drama. "Akiko and Kota don't have yellow banana heads."
Ms. Soumei sighs and folds her arms. "That's exactly what Mamoru and I thought. We had to cross-check the footage a few times. But the build, the gait... even the height... all closely resemble Kota and Akiko. And the bag they're carrying is suspiciously like the limited edition Agent x Family backpack Akiko owns."
"No way..." Takeshi breathes.
"We still need solid evidence to prove it's not them. And unfortunately, there are already students whispering that they ran away from school and turned criminal."
Takeshi clenches his fist. "That's just messed up. Kota wouldn't even jaywalk. I saw him wait for a pedestrian light for seven whole minutes while no cars were around. He even apologized to the crosswalk after."
"Exactly," Ms. Soumei nods.
"And Akiko once told me she cried because she accidentally knocked over a stack of erasers at the supply store. That girl is too sweet to rob a place. Besides, who steals shampoo?"
"People with hygiene standards but no morals," she says grimly.
Takeshi steps forward, eyes blazing with determination (and maybe leftover caffeine from earlier). "Then I'll help in the search."
Ms. Soumei blinks. "You will?"
"Yeah." He strikes a pose with his hand dramatically extended like he's auditioning for a sentai show. "Kota's my... well, he's like a junior that deserves justice. And Akiko—she's basically family."
Ms. Soumei opens a chat window on her phone. She taps in a message to Asahi.
Soumei: Takeshi just volunteered to help find Kota and Akiko.
A beat later, a response pops up.
Asahi: The More the Merrier
Takeshi sees the response and grins. "He actually used an emoji?"
"You should see how he texts when he's drunk on strawberry milk."
Then Ms. Soumei gets serious again. "Listen. This won't be easy. A lot of leads are dead ends. Mamoru and I already called the store and requested clearer footage, but they're being tight-lipped. The police are slow-rolling the case because they think it's a student prank."
"Classic adults," Takeshi grumbles.
"But I trust you. And if Asahi's in, then we've got a fighting chance."
Takeshi nods. "Alright. Operation: Truth Bomb begins now."
He marches toward the whiteboard and writes it in giant block letters:
OPERATION: TRUTH BOMB
— Clear Kota and Akiko's names
— Find the real hoodie-wearing culprits
— Don't die
"And maybe," he adds, "snack breaks along the way."
Ms. Soumei cracks a rare smile. "That's the spirit."
Takeshi grabs a notepad from the nearby shelf. "So what's first?"
"Well," she says, flipping to another CCTV angle, "those two entered from the west gate. Which is weird, because that's the one closest to the school. If they really were Kota and Akiko, why would they go rob a store literally four blocks from Shinomiya High?"
"Either they're the dumbest criminals ever," Takeshi says, "or they want us to think that."
"And there's something else," Ms. Soumei says, double-clicking another folder labeled 'CREEPY'. "We found a hoodie. Same brand as the one from the CCTV. Near the campus gym dumpsters. But... get this."
She tosses a pair of gloves toward Takeshi.
"We're going dumpster diving."
Takeshi's face pales. "I regret everything."
Later that evening...
Takeshi crouches behind the gym dumpster, wearing gloves, a facemask, and a raincoat he found in the faculty lost-and-found bin. Beside him, Ms. Soumei is holding a flashlight like she's on a ghost hunt.
"This is where pride comes to die," Takeshi mutters, digging through trash bags like he's looking for treasure.
And then—he finds it. A hoodie. Black, tattered, and unmistakably the same one from the CCTV footage.
He opens the front pocket.
Inside, there's a sticky note with a bizarre drawing: Two cartoonish faces, one with big eyes and sunglasses, the other with sharp fangs. Underneath is a phrase:
"Operation: KOUHAI – Step 2 Complete."
"What the heck is Operation: Kouhai?" Takeshi whispers.
Ms. Soumei takes a photo of the note and grabs it with tweezers. "Looks like this is bigger than we thought."
Takeshi stares at the words again.
If Kota and Akiko didn't do this... then who did?