"...If you help me create happy endings."
The moment Yukari Sugawara, the energetic pink-haired president of the anime and manga club, had dropped her condition I felt my brain short-circuit. Not because I was caught off guard—no, that was too basic. It was because the phrase "happy endings" felt like it was dipped in a vat of ambiguity and left out to dry under the sweltering sun of misunderstandings.
"Happy endings? And what's that supposed to mean?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, trying my best to maintain my calm exterior.
Yukari leaned forward, eyes gleaming with mischief as she flashed me a wink. "You'll find out soon enough. So, are you in or not?"
Great. Another enigma wrapped in a mystery, served on a platter of vague intentions. I glanced at Rika, hoping he'd offer some kind of insight, maybe even ask the obvious questions. But, as expected, he just gave me that sheepish shrug of his. I could practically hear him thinking, "Well, if Raven's asking, it's probably okay."
I sighed. There was no escape, was there?
"Alright. We're in," I said, resigning myself to whatever bizarre task awaited us. After all, what's the worst that could happen, really?
Yukari's face lit up like she'd just won the lottery. "Excellent!" She clapped her hands together with the enthusiasm of a game show host announcing the grand prize. From behind her back—where she had hidden it with some magical anime girl pocket dimension—she pulled out two sheets of paper and a couple of pens, handing them to us like a pair of contracts sealing our fate.
As I took the paper, I scanned it briefly. Standard stuff. Name, grade, a few boxes to tick. There was even a section to describe our "favorite genres of anime and manga." I quickly filled out my information, my handwriting neat and precise, though I did hesitate at the genre question. Did I really want to admit that my favorite genre was rom-coms? Especially when Yukari was standing there with that unsettling grin?
No, I decided, scribbling down "psychological thriller" instead. Rika, on the other hand, signed his name with the enthusiasm of a kid signing up for summer camp. He barely glanced at the paper before handing it back, a wide grin plastered on his face.
Sometimes I wonder if Rika actually thinks about anything. I smirked inwardly, glancing at him as he handed his form back without a second thought.
"Welcome to the club!" Yukari said, dramatically twirling the papers in her hand. "You'll start on Monday, but feel free to explore today! Take a look around, get comfortable." She waved us off with the same dismissive cheer that a theme park guide might offer after securing visitors on a rollercoaster ride. The ride, however, was the one we were about to embark on, and I had the sinking suspicion that we were already upside down, not even knowing where the loop-de-loops would take us.
Rika's eyes gleamed as he immediately headed toward the nearest bookshelf, his fingers itching to grab every manga in sight. He practically darted toward a shelf, zeroing in on the familiar titles with the precision of a seasoned manga connoisseur.
"He's like a kid in a candy store," I muttered, shaking my head. As much as I enjoyed messing with Rika, there was something endearing about how simple things like manga could make his day. That enthusiasm was something I sometimes envied. For me, everything was calculated—planned. Rika just… was.
With a deep sigh, I strolled over to one of the empty tables, sinking into the chair with a relieved slump. Finally, a moment of peace. I closed my eyes for a second, letting the background noise of the club wash over me—the excited chatter, the soft clinking of someone sipping tea, the rustle of pages being turned.
"Happy endings," I thought again, the phrase tugging at my mind like an unfinished puzzle piece that didn't quite fit. "What did she mean by that?" Knowing Yukari, it wasn't something as simple as "finish reading the manga and close the book." There was something more to it—something I wasn't seeing yet.
Just as I was beginning to ponder the club president's true intentions, a shadow fell over me. The warmth of my brief solitude evaporated as I felt the distinct sensation of being watched. Slowly, I cracked open one eye, only to find two girls looming over me.
I blinked once, twice, trying to gauge their intentions. The first girl had long dark hair and striking blue eyes, sharp enough to cut through any illusions of casual conversation. The other had her brown hair tied back in a neat ponytail, her honey-colored eyes far more inviting, though the way she stared at me gave off a similar intensity. Neither looked particularly shy—no, this was something else. Something more unsettling.
"Hello," the dark-haired girl said, her voice soft but carrying an edge that put me on guard. There was a faint rustle as she pulled out a notebook from seemingly nowhere, her gaze switching from me to the page as she began scribbling furiously.
"Does everyone in this club pull random objects out of thin air?" I wondered, leaning back slightly in my chair. I had to admit, though, this was new. Usually, I had people staring at me from a distance—this was up close and personal.
"Could you stay still for a moment?" the girl asked. Well, more like stated. Before I could even reply, her pencil was flying across the page like she was trying to capture my very soul.
"I'm Raven Gray, not a statue," I thought with mild irritation but remained silent. I mean, it wasn't every day someone sketched you like a French girl from Titanic.
The girl with the ponytail noticed my confusion and stepped forward, her smile much warmer. "Sorry about that. I'm Yuka Sasaki, and this is Aoi Kudo," she introduced, nodding toward her friend, who continued to sketch with laser focus. "Aoi is… very passionate about her art."
"Passionate? That's one way to put it," I mused, glancing between them. "Nice to meet you," I said out loud, keeping my tone neutral.
Aoi, still silent, continued to draw, her hand moving faster than I thought humanly possible. Her intense gaze didn't waver once from my face as she studied every detail. It wasn't the first time I'd been the subject of someone's fascination, but this felt oddly personal.
Finally, after what felt like hours (but was probably only a minute or two), Aoi put down her pencil and held up the notebook with a proud grin.
I blinked, genuinely impressed. On the page was a stunning sketch of… well, me. But not just a simple portrait. No, Aoi had gone all out. The drawing depicted me sitting in the same chair, my head tilted back slightly, gazing off into the distance with a melancholic expression. My white hair was rendered in flowing strokes, and my uniform—while slightly different—was detailed down to the smallest crease. There was a kind of distant, tragic air to the character she had drawn, as if I were the brooding protagonist of some dramatic anime.
"Not bad," I said, genuinely impressed.
Aoi's face turned pink at the compliment, and she quickly hid behind her notebook, her earlier confidence suddenly evaporating. It was… cute, I had to admit, watching her retreat into her shell. The contrast between her intense focus while drawing and her shyness afterward was almost comedic.
I glanced at Yuka, who just shrugged. "She's like this with everyone," she said with a laugh. "She gets really into her art and then gets all flustered when someone praises her."
"I see." I couldn't help but feel slightly charmed by the duo's dynamic. Aoi's quiet intensity paired with Yuka's outgoing confidence reminded me of an older and younger sibling, though I had no idea if they were related or not. Either way, they made quite the pair.
Just as I was starting to relax again, Yukari appeared out of nowhere, sliding into the chair next to me like she was some kind of ninja. "I see you've already met Yuka and Aoi!" she said cheerfully, grinning from ear to ear. "Aoi's sketches are amazing, right? She's always drawing characters from her favorite anime, but I think she just found her new muse!" She winked at me, clearly enjoying the situation.
I resisted the urge to sigh. "A muse? Great. Just what I needed." I'd barely been in this club for an hour, and I was already becoming someone's artistic inspiration.
Yuka nodded enthusiastically. "You definitely have the look of a protagonist from a shoujo manga," she said matter-of-factly. "You know, the kind who's cold and aloof but has a tragic backstory that makes the girls swoon."
Cold and aloof, huh? I thought, smirking to myself. I supposed she wasn't wrong, but I'd rather not have the "tragic backstory" part. Still, it was amusing to see how people viewed me.
Yukari, however, wasn't done. "By the way, about that 'happy endings' thing I mentioned earlier," she said casually, as if dropping the world's biggest plot twist was no big deal.
I straightened up slightly, my curiosity piqued again. "Right. What exactly did you mean by that?"
Yukari's eyes sparkled with that same mischievous glint from before. "Oh, you'll see. It's something special we do here in the anime and manga club. But you'll have to wait until Monday to find out!" She gave me a playful wink before standing up and skipping away to check on the other club members.
I watched her go, my mind spinning with a hundred different possibilities. This club was already proving to be more eccentric than I had anticipated. First Yukari's cryptic condition, then Aoi's intense sketching, and now this talk of "happy endings." What exactly had we gotten ourselves into?
For a moment a silhouette of a cosplayer boy that I saw earlier popped in my mind.
"There is definitely something going on here"