Wednesday, August 25, Afternoon
Leo Maxia
Operation Goswhit was a failure. Aka, the operation to convince the Activities chair not to disband our club, as a failure. Maybe I should’ve come up with a better name.
No, but Goswhit is the helmet of King Arthur, passed on from Uther Pendragon himself! There was hardly a stronger name without getting into weapon territory. Maybe I should’ve called it Operation Prydwen, instead. But then again, Prydwen had too much meaning for a simple operation like that. Sometimes a ship, sometimes a shield, there has to be a more fitting task for that.
I buried my face in my scarf. Now’s not the time to be worried about that. I couldn’t talk us out of this situation, Operation Goswhit, or whatever, I called it. Now it’s time to solve the problem.
I don’t want to lose my club.
I stepped into the “Old Building” section of the school. It’s the shadowrealm where they banished clubs and classes that didn’t require any special equipment, but also weren’t considered particularly important. So it was the perfect place for a no-name group like the Hero Club.
A no name group, sure. But it was our no name group.
A guy and a girl were struggling with a stack of boxes in front of me. I think I recognized one of them from last year’s History class.
“Hey,” I called. “Do you need a hand with that?”
They looked up. “Yeah, can you grab that one?”
I grabbed the whole stack and hoisted it up.
“Whoa,” the guy said. “I can take one of those, if you want?”
“This?” I asked. I held the boxes in one hand and struck a pose with the other, covering my face and peeking through my fingers. “Tis nothing for I, Caladbolg Montoya, Magus of Blue!”
The two of them exchange a dubious glance.
“So, what destination are these parcels fated for?”
“Uh… the old storage,” the guy said. “We’re clearing out some old props for Drama. There’s still a lot left over from last semester.”
Oh, Drama Club. I had a few buddies in Drama. I think a few of them quit, though. “Certainly. Are there any further packages of in the lineage?”
The girl said, “We’ll handle the rest. But, there’s a few more in the Drama Club room, if you really want to help--”
“Understood!” I said. I grinned. “Leave it to me!”
About ten minutes later, I dusted off my sleeves and kept walking. What was I thinking about again? Oh, right. Saving the club…
George, the Activities chair, had given us two stipulations to meet. And both were easier said than done. And he’d be enforcing it…
Why couldn’t it be anyone else as the Activities Committee chair? I stopped myself. No, I shouldn’t think that. If it were anyone else, they’d surely join in with the rest of the Executive Council and dump all their work on Kotone. Of course, that’d make it easier on us, since Kotone would probably let our club slide.
But it’s not heroic to wish harm on a friend like that.
I thought back to Kotone. I wouldn’t hesitate to describe her look as almost sickly. That student council work… and whatever else she’s involved with, that’s definitely taking a toll on her. I wanted to help her. In fact, I’d offered to levy the club to help her with her work, but every time she’d refused.
I hope she’s okay...
I shook my head. I will get the club to help her. But to do that, I need the club to exist. There’s no use wishing for ‘what-ifs.’ I need to do something...
I don’t want to lose my club…
Speaking of which. I arrived at a familiar door and pushed it open. “I have arrived!”
The Hero Club room was a room with a medium-sized rectangular table in the middle. Five chairs for five members on one side, and all facing a lone chair on the other, for clients.
Well… five members… until the end of the last school year, that was.
A lone club member sat in her usual chair on the ‘club members’ side of the table. She sat with her feet on the table, earbuds in, blasting music, and mashing away at a game controller. Ladies and gentlemen, the Vice President of the Hero Club.
“Hey, Yuna,” I said.
No response.
“Hey, Yuna,” I said, again.
No response.
I shut the door behind me, walked around the table, and pulled out an earbud. “Hey. I’m back. Where are the others?
“Guh. You made me lose a life.” Yuna bent her head backwards and looked at me with her red eyes. She brushed her pale silver hair out of her face and said, “Erin’s got deadlines. Olivia’s doing stuff with the Librarians.” She swiveled in her chair and faced me. There was only one swivel chair in the room, and she got it. Yuna brushed her pale silver hair out of her face. “So. Operation Goose White. How’d it go?”
“Operation Goswhit.”
“It means Goose White.” She snapped her game console and plucked out the other earbud, twirling it with one hand. “So… not well, huh?”
“I didn’t even say anything yet.”
“Written on your face in neon permanent marker. So… what happens now?”
I swallowed. Both Yuna and I had received the same email from the Activities Committee chair. The Hero Club had failed to submit a record of its activities last year. And, we’ve also fallen below the minimum member count of 5. As a result, our club was to be disbanded, effective in two weeks.
However, there were two stipulations, as the Activities Committee chair, George, had informed me. I relayed to Yuna, In place of the missing paperwork, we were to submit the paperwork from last year late, and also, for the next two weeks, we were to submit activity reports. Detailed reports on everything the club did. Meeting minutes, members present, that kind of thing.
That was the easy part. It’s extra work, but it’s nothing that we can’t handle.
Most ‘clubs’ that had festered under the loose administration of George’s predecessor would be tripped up by this hurdle. Do-nothing groups that drained the cumulative club budget, like the “Cell Phone Society” or the “Rainbow Club,” those guys are in hot water right now.
I’m sure George assumes the Hero Club is like that too. After all, it certainly sounds like it’d be in that vein. But, we are a legitimate service club. Clients come to us, we help people
. So that part of the paperwork was the easy part.
The hard part was getting above the member minimum. My gaze drifted to the fifth chair.
“A new member…” Yuna said. “Out of respect for Denzel, I really don’t want to.”
I nodded. “If we do… It’ll be like he’s really gone, forever. Do you…”
“No,” Yuna said. “He’s definitely not dead. He’s still out there. We’ll find him.”
“Your Precognition?”
She just stared at the chair. “I just know.” With a sigh, Yuna jumped to her feet. “Hey, you wanna go into the Command Level and blow off some steam?”
I nodded. “We haven’t done patrols in a while.” Maybe it’ll help clear my head.
“I got good news. You know the rolling Wifi problems that were plaguing the school?”
“Virus?”
Yuna grinned. “You betcha. Let’s get’m.”
“You know, this is our fault. We neglected patrols over the summer.”
“Don’t sweat the details,” Yuna said, waving her hand dismissively. “We go bust heads, save anyone who’s trapped, and call that a job well done. We’ll deal with this stuff later.”
That’s Yuna for you. Once she gets going, there’s no stopping her. I blinked, and she had already slipped into the other side. I should get going, too.
“User: Leo Maxia. Enter Command Level.”
There was that familiar falling sensation, like the ground below me was caving in. My vision whited out.
I was standing in the clubroom when my vision returned. Yuna materialized moments later. “Hellscythe.” With a wave of her hand, her obsidian floral scythe formed into existence, through a flash of light and a flurry of black petals. “Alright. Let’s head out.”
Yuna and I marched through the empty halls of the school. Empty, as there were no normal humans in the Command Level, except for those trapped in its clutches. A realm beyond human comprehension, filled with vile creatures with the aim of destroying humanity. And thus, being granted the power of this light of understanding, it is up to us, the Hero Club, to be humanity’s defense force.
With great power, comes great responsibility, a saying popularized by Spider Man’s uncle, but with variants used by figures such as Lord Melbourne, Winston Churchill, and Franklin Delano Roosevelt. This responsibility weighted on our shoulders as we--
“Earth to Leo,” Yuna said.
“Oh. Uh, sorry, what did you say?”
Yuna sighed. “I was asking if you could just… you know, ask Kotone to join the club again. At least until we find an Esper to be the actual fifth member.”
“An unaffiliated Esper,” I pointed out.
Yuna nodded. “Yeah. If they’re already aligned with one of the other factions, it’ll be no good. We’ll talk about it with Erin. Her Empathy’s also able to sniff out Espers, if I’m not wrong.”
“That’ll be what we do. When what webcomic of hers isn’t killing her, that is.”
“For now… I mean, again. We could ask Kotone for help.”
Ask Kotone… “Kotone actually offered,” I said. “I turned her down.”
“Are you for real? Why not?”
“She’s too busy,” I said. “She looked like she was dying. I don’t want to make it worse on her.”
“We could just put her name down. She doesn’t actually have to do anything. And y’know, fudge the activity report.”
I looked away. Heroes don’t lie. “Only as an absolute last resort.” Heroes don’t lie… but, again, I don’t want to lose my club.
Another sigh. Yuna twirled her scythe and flicked her hair. “Though, I really do want to do something about Kotone. It’s those idiots on the Executive Council. I told her what she was in for, joining as a Junior.”
I didn’t want to say it out loud, but thought the same. We’d offered to help out Kotone with the work she had to do, but the answer was always the same.
“Don’t fight my battles for me.”
Damn… She was clearly wasting away. And there was nothing we could do about it. I clenched my fists.
I… I don’t want to be useless.
Yuna jabbed my side. I yelped.
“You’re full of openings today. Keep your guard up,” she said. “No one’s going to throw up a shield and protect you today. Just you and me.”
“Right…”
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