[OreGaIru : New Me!]

….

[-Continuation-]

.

[-Hachiman's POV-]

Next Day.

The school is finished, and I am already outside.

Despite Yukino Yukinoshita, our self-appointed judge, initially laying down the harsh verdict of  - no walking home together until our exams are finished - which was kinda out of nowhere actually.

Nevertheless, I managed to appeal her ruling with what I considered an airtight case - the exams are still a good month and a half away.

That earned me a begrudging reprieve.

But in the end? I am not with her now.

"See you later, my Arcanabros!" Zaimokuza called out, waving dramatically as we walked past the arcade.

Yep, I am with Zaimokuza Yoshiteru.

Here is the thing - there isn't a single familiar face anywhere near the arcade.

Not one. Not inside, not outside, not in the general direction he is waving.

We are not here to play games either.

We were just passing by on our way to Zaimokuza's house - the arcade just happened to be along the way.

A coincidence, not destiny.

Honestly, though, both of us had to resist the almost magnetic pull to glance at the neon lights and familiar sounds coming from inside.

Alas, this wasn't the time for distractions.

No side quests.

Neither of us speaks. We just straighten up, stiff as soldiers, and march forward with our eyes fixed resolutely ahead, pretending we don't notice.

"Do you have any idea how ridiculous we look right now?" I muttered, keeping my eyes locked on some arbitrary point in the distance.

"Silence, Hachiman!" Zaimokuza hissed, his voice low but intense. "The temptation… It's too strong. We must not succumb!"

It feels like we are trying to walk past a treasure chest in a dungeon, knowing it's definitely a mimic - you could open it, but you know it's a bad idea.

Finally, we clear the danger zone, the arcade fading behind us like a defeated foe.

"Hachiman! We did it!" Zaimokuza exclaimed, punching the air triumphantly. "We resisted the ultimate greed!"

I sighed. "Yeah, congratulations. We are heroes. Now pick up the pace before something else grabs your attention."

…

Zaimokuza's home wasn't far from the arcade, just a ten-minute walk, and we were there.

To my surprise, his home looked… ordinary. It was a standard Japanese house, albeit older, with an air of quiet nostalgia clinging to its walls.

Nothing stood out, nothing screamed 'eccentric lair' and for a moment, I wondered if we had taken a wrong turn.

But Zaimokuza Yoshiteru wasn't one to disappoint in the theatrics department.

He flung the door open with unnecessary flair, the kind you'd expect from a warrior returning from a victorious battle.

"I am home, Dad!" He bellowed, his voice carrying through the empty house like a poorly aimed spell.

Wait, his dad is home?

I instinctively glanced around, half-expecting a towering, dramatic figure to emerge - perhaps wielding a staff or wearing some mysterious cloak. But the house remained eerily silent.

But the house was silent.

Noticing my confusion, Zaimokuza gave a shrug, the kind of shrug that said - 'I am totally in control, my dude.'

"He will be back soon, my friend!" He declared, gesturing grandly as if dismissing any concerns. "No need to worry."

Before I could even process what was happening, he spun around and marched inside, narrating to himself.

"Now, follow me! It's time to unveil the main base. It's top-secret, classified intel. Only a select few trusted individuals know of its existence. But you, my dear friend, are one of the chosen few!"

I lingered by the doorway for a moment, taking in the house. It was simple but carried a certain charm, the kind you would find in a place that had been lived in for decades.

A staircase hugged the side of the entryway, leading to the second floor, much like the one in my own house.

I let my eyes wander over the worn wooden floors and faintly yellowed walls, noting the way it all seemed… normal.

Almost too normal.

Then again, knowing Zaimokuza, the 'main base' he was hyping up probably involved some combination of action figures, anime posters, and whatever other eccentricities fueled his delusions of grandeur.

"Come on, Hachiman! This way!" He called from halfway up the stairs, pointing upward. "Prepare yourself to witness the extraordinary!"

I let out a resigned sigh and followed.

'Extraordinary' in Zaimokuza's terms, could mean just about anything.

Realistically, I was bracing for a collection of manga, action figures, and enough secondhand embarrassment to keep me cringing for a week.

As I followed him up the creaking staircase, something else tugged at my thoughts.

How much did I really know about Zaimokuza?

Sure, we hung out often enough, and his eccentric personality made him hard to miss.

But beyond his over-the-top theatrics and obsession with all things fantasy, I didn't know much about his life.

Our small talk while navigating the stairs filled in some blanks.

Apparently, he was an only child.

His mother had passed away when he was just seven.

"So, it's just been me and my dad since then." He said, his voice quieter than usual, the bravado momentarily absent..

His father owned a small medical store, enough to keep them going, and this house had been in the family since his father's childhood.

Hearing this quieter, more grounded side of him felt… odd.

For a brief moment, the staircase seemed longer than it should have been, stretching with the weight of his words.

"Oi, Hachiman! Don't fall behind!" Zaimokuza's voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

He was already at the top, waving me forward like a general urging his troops to charge.

"Yeah, yeah. I am coming." I muttered, pushing the thoughts aside as I reached the landing.

At the top, Zaimokuza threw open the door with a flourish, stepping aside like a host unveiling a grand treasure.

"Behold, Hachiman! Welcome to my domain!" He announced.

I stepped inside, bracing myself for chaos.

I imagined stacks of unopened collector's items, a shrine to some obscure anime character, or maybe even something unmentionable.

Instead…

…I found a relatively tidy room.

There was a bed tucked against the wall, a desk piled with notebooks and pens, and shelves lined with books and manga.

Okay, a lot of manga.

A tower of action figures dominated one corner, while posters of various anime and games plastered the walls.

It wasn't extraordinary by any stretch, but it was undeniably… Zaimokuza.

"Well? What do you think?" He asked, beaming with pride.

I shrugged. "It is... a room."

"A room?" He repeated, scandalized. "This is no mere room! This is a sanctuary. A hallowed ground for creativity and imagination!"

Before I could respond, he bolted to the desk, snatching up a thick notebook like it was some kind of holy relic.

Holding it high, he declared. "Behold! The Chronicles of the Arcana Rebellion! Years of unparalleled world-building, character arcs, and jaw-dropping plot twists - all meticulously recorded within these sacred pages!"

I raised an eyebrow. "Years, huh? So, how much is actually done?"

"Ah… well…" He coughed as he turned his head away, pretending to inspect the far corner of the room. "Progress is, uh… ongoing. True art cannot be rushed, my friend!"

He launched into a detailed rant about his fictional world - its kingdoms, prophecies, and probably something about chosen ones - but my focus drifted.

I scanned the room instead.

Then, something caught my eye - a framed photo on the shelf. In it, a much younger Zaimokuza stood between two adults.

He looked maybe six or seven, his grin bright despite a few missing teeth.

A younger Zaimokuza, maybe six or seven, stood between his parents.

His grin was missing a couple of teeth, but his happiness was unmistakable.

"You are snooping!" His voice cut through my thoughts, making me flinch.

"It's not snooping if it's out in the open." I said, gesturing toward the photo. "Is this your family?"

He hesitated, his usual theatrics fading for a moment. "Yeah. That was... before."

I didn't push. His tone said enough.

But just as quickly as the mood shifted, he brightened again, pointing enthusiastically toward the other side of the room. "Ah! But you haven't seen this! The crown jewel of my collection!"

I followed his gaze to a massive shelf stacked with limited-edition box sets, figurines, and collector's items.

It was like walking into an otaku's dream.

"Impressive." I said, half-sarcastic, but it wasn't entirely untrue.

"Indeed! Truly, you are in the presence of greatness!" He struck a triumphant pose.

I sighed, shaking my head. "You are lucky I have no standards for my friends, Zaimokuza."

He grinned. "And that, my friend Hachiman, is why you are worthy of being my most trusted companion. Now, shall we dive into the Arcana Rebellion lore?"

"Pass." I said flatly, crossing my arms.

Enough distractions.

I wasn't here for his grand tour of geekdom or to admire his questionable taste in posters.

I had a purpose for being here, and while it wasn't a monumental one, it was still important.

"Alright, Zaimokuza, let's open the books." I said, pulling my bag onto the desk.

He blinked, as if I had just challenged him to a duel. "What? Already? We've barely–!"

"Save it." I cut him off. "The exams are a month away. If you wait until the last minute, not even a miracle will save you."

Zaimokuza deflated, plopping onto his chair like a defeated knight. "But, Hachiman, my creative juices–! "

"Will dry up if you flunk."

I leaned forward, leveling him with a stare. "And if you really want to participate in the storyline of our next project, as agreed, you will do as I say."

The next game, our next big project, was going to be… an ambitious idea.

It is far from our usual scope.

However, it also needed a solid storyline to make it work.

And despite already having the major part of the story clear in my mind, it doesn't hurt to have someone help right?

While Zaimokuza may not be the perfect choice, even after improving significantly over the last few months, he has something.

And that is his imagination was …endless.

Originality?

Maybe not so much, but he makes sure to throw at you something, or anything. 

And if you pointed him in the right direction, he could come up with ideas that, if refined, could be the backbone of something great.

Anyway, my words seemed to hit him where it hurt.

"Alright…" Zaimokuza muttered, picking up his pencil with the reluctance of someone being forced to dig trenches. "But for the record, this is cruelty."

"Noted. Now, start here."

I opened his math textbook and flipped to a random chapter. "We are starting with math."

Zaimokuza groaned as if I had just handed him a death sentence. "You wound me, Hachiman! Numbers are the eternal foe of all creative spirits!"

I barely glanced up. "Yeah, and that's why numbers are also winning against your grades. Suck it up."

Haha, this is gonna be a long hour. I sighed.

.

….

[To be continued…]

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