Enter; The Beginners Guide To Faking Your Death

The Pros And The Cons

“What are you doing in front of the school?” Shouta asked from the car door, staring lasers into it at his friend. Before anything started, he snatched his scarf from the glovebox. He always kept a few in there, and he'd be damned if he didn't have one almost constantly.

“Picking you up early!” Hizashi grinned like a child, “It's been too long. We haven't hung out in weeks.”

“It's three days before break. Calm your tits.” He jumped inside.

“NO!” Nemuri called out and Shota jolted, not expecting her to be there. She continued with a laugh, “You should calm your tits.”

“You fucking BITCH!” he cursed her out, trying to rest his heart. “Why are you here?”

“Where would a night of drinking be without me?” Her arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“A night without you would be just fine.” He stated, finally done with her nonsense. Duo nonsense, which he had to tolerate for the day. Hisashi started the car again and it hummed as it took off.

They wandered around the alcohol aisle, looking for something each of them could drink. Nemuri kept recommending random, weird stuff that somehow ended up on shelves. Some stuff no one would ever drink like the cigarette-flavored one. He sees no sane person drinking it. Of course, there were the insane who wouldn't hesitate to buy it.

For some reason, the store clerk watched them as they meandered around the store. Every so often when he would catch him staring, he would look away in shame. The man repeated as they played a game of chicken with their eyes. He couldn't care much since there were always some eyes on him. They seemed more captivated than suspicious, even with the shy smile that twisted the cashier’s lips into evil.

Hizashi placed whatever the crazies in the group had collected on the counter. Of course, he was his usual self, which didn't divert from his usual hero-sona. He always put some bedazzle into whatever he did, and the cashier was eating it up. They held back a smile as they rang up each item with excitement.

“Hey, you know him?” Shota ultimately asked, deadpan as always.

“I think so.” He declared with hesitation. “Present Mic? I'm sorry if I'm wrong.”

“That's me!” He loudly announced. “Are you a fan?”

“Yeah, I am a fan. It's so nice to meet you.” They said as kindly as they could, holding in the urge to go ballistic. It was as if everything inside was ready to explode like popcorn kernels. Still, he held it together and kept cool.

“Ya’ want a picture?” He knew what the answer would be. It wasn't much of a question as much of an invite.

“Oh, Sure!” He jolted from behind the counter and walked around with a skip, phone in hand.

Shota waited patiently as he watched the cashier take a picture with his friend. It was odd having a friend popular with the public. Although he and Nemuri were known, not nearly as well known since Mic wanted the fame.

He hated the media, yet Hizashi adored it. He loved the fans and gifts people would send. The fan accounts and admiration from everyone who had heard his name is something he was always thankful for. It's what fueled him deep down, even though he won't admit he's a hero because of them.

Shota wouldn't deny someone a photo opportunity, even though he hated them. He didn't get nearly as many fans as Hizashi, but he would still get them here and there. Maybe once or twice a year from a local who happened to know about him. Mostly someone he had saved or someone they knew of. Once, a family member from someone he had failed to save approached him, thanking him for doing his best. He would be a liar if he said it didn't make him feel a bit better about the situation. Maybe it was something deep down he needed to solve, but today wasn't the day. Alcohol didn't solve anything when it came to emotions, just delayed it.