Koji picked up his hat, dusted it off, and placed it back on his head.
"The ultimate goal of war is peace, and that's what I've gained today," he declared, tipping his hat for emphasis. A single tear slid down his cheek.
On the way home, I was actually mugged. I'd left my kendo stick in the alley, so I had to hand over everything—9,000 yen, my camera, and a photo of a pyramid-shaped poop I'd planned to use as my phone wallpaper. Honestly, the photo was the biggest loss.
The thieves didn't even say thank you after taking my stuff. Rude. One of them, a guy wearing a neon pink hoodie that said "Thug Life 101," even laughed at my misfortune. If I'd had my kendo stick, he'd be crying. But alas, life had other plans.
I tried chasing after them at first, but after tripping over a stray cat that hissed angrily and scratched my ankle, I decided the universe was telling me to just let it go. My shoe flew into the gutter, and I had to hobble home wearing one sock and the remains of my pride.
When I finally got home, I threw away my disguise. I didn't want any reminders of Riki, my unrequited love. My parents weren't home—they'd gone on a business trip and left meals prepared for the next few days. That gave me an idea: something to truly inspire me. I'd get completely naked and sit like L from Death Note.
There's something liberating about being naked at home. As for sitting like L? It can't hurt and might actually be cool.
But first, I needed fuel. I opened the fridge to find my mom's "homemade" lasagna, which is basically store-bought lasagna with extra cheese melted on top. I grabbed the dish, a fork, and a can of grape soda, balancing everything as I waddled over to the living room.
Once I was properly seated in the iconic L pose—naked, of course—I realized two things. One: eating lasagna in this position is harder than it looks. Two: I'd forgotten to close the curtains.
It didn't take long for the inspiration to hit. This Saturday's efforts had paid off. Being naked definitely helped. Thinking with both heads free increases efficiency. My grand plan would be executed in four stages. Tonight, I'd outline the first step.
Step one: figure out which clubs I should join. In a week, we'll have to submit our club preference cards. Obviously, I'll choose the ones the "queens" pick. The challenge is finding out their choices without directly asking them, which would look suspicious. Instead, I'd casually ask the whole class and react neutrally to everyone else's answers.
But there's a problem. If I only act interested in the queens, people might figure out my crush and connect it to my heterochromia fetish. So, here's the plan: I'll fake a fire alarm right after talking to her. That'll make everyone forget about my questions.
For the second queen, I noticed she sticks to a trio of friends during lunch. I'll manipulate the cafeteria supplies, lowering prices to create a long line. I'll queue up right behind them and strike up a conversation, casually asking about clubs.
For the third queen, who sits next to me, I'll rely on natural conversation. It's perfectly normal to chat with the person beside you, and no one will suspect a thing.
As for the student council president, she's been here for two years. Someone must know her club. Easy.
Many may think that my plans are too insane for such a goal, but for me, who has waited my whole life for this opportunity, I have to go all out, I need to be precise, there is no room for hesitation.
After drafting my master plan, I pinned it to the board. It was perfect. If Sun Tzu's spirit exists, he's hugging me for my brilliance—even if it's awkward since I'm naked.
Feeling confident, I decided to test the effectiveness of my L pose. I perched on the edge of the couch, balancing my grape soda on one knee. The doorbell rang just as I leaned too far forward. The soda can toppled, spilling onto the carpet.
Panicked, I scrambled to the door, grabbing a throw pillow for modesty. When I opened it, a delivery guy stood there holding a box labeled "Mystery Anime Merch Monthly."
"Uh…" The delivery guy's eyes darted between my face and the pillow.
I signed for the package with a flourish, pretending like nothing was weird. He handed me the box and muttered, "Have a nice day," before speed-walking back to his truck.
Once the door was shut, I added another note to my board:
Step Five: Remember to put on clothes before answering the door.
It was late by then, and I went to close my window. Unfortunately, Mrs. Tatsumaki from across the street caught a glimpse of me. Embarrassed but undeterred, I gave a polite nod and quickly shut the curtains.
"Sorry, Mrs. Tatsumaki. Hopefully, your Alzheimer's helps you forget this scene."
Satisfied with the progress I'd made, I decided it was time for bed. But not before double-checking the locks. You never know when someone might break in… and steal your genius plans.
END OF CHAPTER 4