Chapter 23: The Parent-Teacher Meeting from Hell

  Scene 1 – Seating Chart of Doom

  There are a few moments in life that make you question every choice you’ve ever made.

  Walking into the school’s main conference room and seeing Genzo Sakamoto seated across from the entire faculty?

  Yeah. That was one of those moments.

  He sat like a warlord at a ceasefire negotiation. Back straight. Hands folded. Beard perfectly trimmed. The only thing missing was a katana and a historical drama soundtrack.

  I, meanwhile, looked like a discount anime protagonist halfway through a nervous breakdown arc.

  The teachers were sweating.

  Not metaphorically.

  Sweating.

  Principal Nakagawa dabbed at her forehead with a tissue that had already surrendered. Ms. Tanaka looked like she was reviewing her will. Mr. Fujimoto sat two seats away from Genzo, trying very hard to merge with the wallpaper.

  No one spoke.

  Then the door creaked open.

  And somehow, things got worse.

  “Kenji~!” Akari chirped, strolling in like this was a Valentine’s Day mixer. “Am I late?”

  Behind her?

  Sakura.

  In a very formal dress.

  “I brought refreshments,” she said sweetly, holding a tray of ominously labeled rice balls.

  “Why are either of you here?!” I hissed.

  “This is a parent-teacher meeting,” Akari said, taking a seat. “And I’m spiritually family.”

  “That’s not—what does that mean?!”

  “It means,” Sakura said, settling beside her, “that we’re invested.”

  Akari glared. “You’re only here to one-up me.”

  “Oh, please. You didn’t even bring a gift for the faculty.”

  “Because this isn’t a bridal negotiation!”

  I was halfway to a heart attack and still hadn’t even sat down.

  Then the door banged open.

  Reina.

  Holding a clipboard.

  Eyes blazing.

  “I was told there was an emergency meeting about Sakamoto,” she snapped. “So I came to make sure it doesn’t turn into another roof-top emotional disaster.”

  She spotted Akari and Sakura.

  Paused.

  Then sighed the sigh of someone too tired to fight fate.

  “Of course you’re both here.”

  “Welcome to the chaos,” I muttered.

  “Don’t talk to me.”

  She sat as far from me as possible.

  The room was now evenly split between educators, threats to national stability, and my mental breakdown in progress.

  Genzo, of course, looked completely at peace.

  “Shall we begin?” he said calmly.

  Principal Nakagawa straightened. “Yes. Thank you, Mr. Sakamoto, for attending. There have been… concerns.”

  She glanced at me. At the girls. At me again. Her soul visibly left her body for a moment.

  “The recent events—including duels, romantic scandals, underground gambling, a flying drone modeled after Kenji, and… potential criminal ties—have caused some unrest.”

  Genzo nodded, stroking his beard like he was contemplating executing someone in a very polite way.

  “I understand,” he said. “Kenji can be… energetic.”

  That is NOT the word I would’ve used.

  “But rest assured, our family takes such matters seriously.”

  Akari raised her hand. “He’s been very mature lately. Especially when we cuddle.”

  Sakura’s eyes twitched. “We’re engaged.”

  Reina slammed her clipboard down. “I’M NOT INVOLVED IN THIS NONSENSE—WHY AM I EVEN HERE?!”

  Silence.

  Genzo arched an eyebrow.

  “I see,” he said.

  Then he looked at me.

  Really looked at me.

  And I knew—I knew—something was coming.

  He tapped a finger to his chin.

  “So, Kenji… or should I say…”

  A pause.

  A long one.

  “…Ryuji?”

  I froze.

  Literally.

  Like my soul had just blue-screened.

  The teachers stared.

  Reina stared.

  Akari and Sakura stared—but they were still quietly elbowing each other under the table.

  I opened my mouth.

  No sound came out.

  Because what do you say when your maybe-dad just maybe-called you by your maybe-dead twin brother’s name?

  You don’t say anything.

  You just panic.

  Which is exactly what I did.

  Scene 2 – A Name with Too Much Weight

  “Ryuji?” I repeated, barely above a whisper.

  Genzo didn’t blink.

  Didn’t correct himself.

  Didn’t smile.

  He just sat there, calmly stroking his beard like this was a casual little identity crisis and not the psychological equivalent of a fireworks factory on fire.

  “No,” I said quickly, eyes darting around the room. “I mean—I’m not—That’s not—I’m Kenji. Just Kenji.”

  Ms. Tanaka let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a whimper.

  Principal Nakagawa turned visibly paler, which I didn’t know was possible.

  Mr. Fujimoto looked like he was trying to astral project out of his seat.

  “Kenji,” Reina said slowly, turning toward me, her eyes narrow and sharp, “what is he talking about?”

  “Nothing!” I squeaked. “It’s a—it’s a joke! Right, Father? You’re joking. Classic dad humor. Haha. Ha…”

  Genzo didn’t answer.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  He just watched.

  Akari leaned forward, eyes wide. “Wait… who’s Ryuji?”

  Sakura narrowed her eyes. “Did I miss something? Because I do not appreciate being left out of major plot developments.”

  “Can everyone stop talking for five seconds so I can survive?!” I said, somewhere between hysterical and faint.

  And then, mercifully—or terrifyingly—the conversation shifted.

  Because a teacher cleared his throat.

  One I didn’t recognize.

  Middle-aged. Thick glasses. Clean suit. Smelled like dry-erase markers and quiet authority.

  He adjusted his tie.

  “Pardon the interruption,” he said, “but I believe this meeting was called to discuss disciplinary actions and school reputation. Not… family matters.”

  Everyone blinked.

  Principal Nakagawa latched onto that like it was a lifeline. “Yes! Yes, thank you, Mr.—uh…”

  The man turned to her with a small, pleasant smile.

  “Miyahara,” he said.

  “Ah. Right. Miyahara-sensei.”

  Except—no.

  I’d never seen this guy before in my life.

  And I knew every staff member. You kind of had to when trying not to be expelled on a weekly basis.

  Reina noticed it too.

  I saw it in the way her eyes flicked to me, then back to the man.

  Genzo, however?

  Just smiled.

  “A wise point,” he said.

  Miyahara nodded back, then sat down.

  Too calm.

  Too collected.

  I didn’t trust it.

  I really didn’t trust it.

  Reina leaned closer to me and whispered, “That’s not a real teacher, is it?”

  “Nope.”

  “Do we pretend we’re okay with this?”

  “Yup.”

  We both sat there, pretending.

  Pretending everything was fine.

  Pretending the man sitting in the back wasn’t analyzing our every reaction.

  Pretending Genzo hadn’t just dropped a bomb.

  Pretending I wasn’t about two seconds from spontaneous combustion.

  Because if we didn’t pretend?

  We’d have to admit the truth.

  And I wasn’t ready for the truth.

  Not when it might be watching from just outside the door.

  Scene 3 – Third Act Love Confession (During a Disciplinary Review)

  Just when I thought things couldn’t get more unstable, the door slammed open.

  “KENJI!”

  It was Akari.

  Still here.

  Still committed to ruining my life with charm and unsolicited declarations.

  Except—she wasn’t alone.

  Sakura followed right behind her, arms crossed, murder in her eyes, and a folder labeled “Legal Proof of Engagement” tucked under her arm like an emotional nuke.

  And then—

  Reina.

  Dragging behind them like the one rational person in a three-clown parade, looking like she was seriously reconsidering her decision to exist on this planet.

  “I told you both to stay out of the meeting!” Reina snapped.

  “Oh, I heard you,” Akari said sweetly. “I just ignored you.”

  “Obviously,” Sakura muttered, slamming the folder on the conference table.

  “Is that real?” I asked weakly.

  “It’s mostly real.”

  “WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!”

  Principal Nakagawa looked like she was trying to remember if it was possible to get fired and disappear from the country in one afternoon.

  Ms. Tanaka had started rubbing her temples in slow, sad circles.

  Genzo?

  Genzo just watched.

  Like this was entertainment.

  Like this was fun.

  Akari stepped forward. “Let’s not pretend, okay? We all know who Kenji’s destined for.”

  Sakura smiled. “Yes. Me.”

  “You wish!”

  “I have evidence!”

  “You printed out fan fiction!”

  Reina exploded. “I’M NOT INVOLVED IN THIS NONSENSE—WHY AM I EVEN HERE?!”

  “You brought them!” I pointed.

  “BECAUSE I WAS TRYING TO STOP THEM!”

  “Too late,” Sakura said smugly.

  “Way too late,” Akari echoed.

  Genzo raised an eyebrow. “It’s impressive,” he said, “how emotionally invested you all are.”

  “I’m emotionally trapped,” I muttered.

  Mr. Miyahara—fake teacher extraordinaire—folded his hands. “Perhaps we should return to the topic of discipline?”

  Akari and Sakura ignored him.

  Reina tried to speak again, but Akari beat her to it.

  “Your son is mine,” she declared to Genzo.

  Sakura shoved her aside. “Actually, we’re engaged.”

  “I WAS TOLD THIS WAS ABOUT TEST SCORES,” Reina shouted.

  Genzo stroked his beard. “Fascinating.”

  I could feel my spirit detaching from my body.

  I was going to have an out-of-body experience.

  And then burst into flames.

  And then probably get blamed for it on the announcements.

  “Everyone—please,” Principal Nakagawa begged, voice breaking like a middle school recorder. “This is not the place for—”

  “Kenji,” Akari said, turning to me. “Pick. Right now.”

  “I—I—what?!”

  “Me or her.”

  Sakura raised an eyebrow. “And if he picks you?”

  Akari smiled. “Then I win.”

  “Ridiculous,” Reina muttered. “This whole school is infected with brain worms.”

  And that’s when the intercom buzzed.

  “Attention: We are now officially 15 minutes past the scheduled end of the parent-teacher conference. Please evacuate the school with dignity and minimal yelling.”

  The room fell silent.

  Akari and Sakura both looked at me.

  Reina was already halfway to the door.

  Genzo? Still smiling.

  And then he leaned forward and said softly, “Well? Who do you belong to, Kenji?”

  I died.

  Right there.

  Emotionally.

  Spiritually.

  Probably physically.

  But no one noticed.

  Because Akari and Sakura were still arguing.

  And someone, just outside the window, was watching.

  Again.

  Scene 4 – The Crack Beneath the Smile

  I didn’t answer Genzo’s question.

  Mostly because I couldn’t feel my face.

  Or my spine.

  Or any remaining will to live.

  “Who do I belong to?” I whispered, eyes twitching. “What kind of Disney villain dialogue is that?!”

  Genzo chuckled softly, like we were sharing a charming little family joke instead of spiraling into psychological ruin in front of school officials.

  Reina pushed past the arguing girls and practically slammed her hands on the table.

  “Enough,” she said. “This isn’t a dating sim. This is a disciplinary review. And whatever weird family drama you’re playing out here—leave me out of it.”

  She shot me a glare.

  I gave her a helpless shrug that I hoped translated to I’m trapped in a situation beyond mortal comprehension.

  Akari crossed her arms. “It’s not a dating sim. It’s a battle for fate.”

  Sakura nodded. “A duel of destinies.”

  “You two need therapy.”

  “You need a love confession,” they said in unison.

  I considered jumping out the window.

  Unfortunately, we were on the first floor, and I might actually survive, which didn’t solve my problem.

  Mr. Miyahara, who still absolutely wasn’t a real teacher, cleared his throat again.

  “If we could steer back to academic matters…”

  “No one invited you,” Reina snapped.

  His eyes met hers.

  For just a second.

  Too cold. Too flat. Too controlled.

  She blinked.

  And he smiled.

  Not friendly.

  Not warm.

  Just… not right.

  I saw it too. And I knew—he wasn’t here for school policy. He wasn’t here to help.

  He was here for me.

  And maybe not just to watch.

  Principal Nakagawa stood up suddenly. “I think—perhaps—it’s best we adjourn for the day.”

  Bless her.

  An angel.

  A broken, fragile angel trying to hold her job together with duct tape and resignation letters.

  “Yes,” she continued. “This meeting has… accomplished something. Probably.”

  Genzo rose from his chair. Graceful. Calm. Like he hadn’t just shattered my soul with one word.

  He looked at me.

  And said, “You’re handling things surprisingly well, Kenji.”

  I smiled weakly. “I’m dying inside.”

  “Good.”

  He turned to leave.

  Sakura followed.

  Then Akari.

  Reina lingered for half a second—just long enough to mutter, “We need to talk. Soon.”

  Then she left too.

  And I was alone.

  With the fake teacher.

  Who stood, gave me the tiniest of nods, and walked out the door without a word.

  I didn’t breathe until he was gone.

  Then I collapsed into the chair and whispered, “I am in so much trouble.”

  Outside, just beyond the window, someone stood behind a tree.

  Smiling.

  Watching.

  Waiting.

  Scene 5 – The Smile in the Shadows

  By the time I left the school building, the sun was gone.

  The campus was bathed in a kind of murky twilight that made every bush look like a crouching assassin and every passing student feel like a potential spy.

  I walked fast.

  Not because I was late.

  But because my survival instincts told me to.

  Tetsuya was waiting by the back gate, leaning against the wall like a bodyguard in a Yakuza drama. He had a melon soda in one hand and a half-eaten rice ball in the other.

  “You lived,” he said. “Impressive.”

  “I aged twelve years.”

  “Did you pick a girl?”

  “I picked death,” I muttered.

  He handed me the melon soda like it was a medal of honor. I took it. Chugged. Gagged.

  “Too much melon,” I said.

  “There’s no such thing.”

  We stood there for a minute, silent.

  Then I said, “He called me Ryuji.”

  Tetsuya didn’t answer right away.

  “Genzo?”

  “Yeah.”

  I glanced at him. “Do you think he knows?”

  “He definitely knows.”

  “So why hasn’t he done anything?”

  Tetsuya crunched the rice ball slowly. “Maybe he’s waiting for you to confess.”

  I groaned. “That’s comforting.”

  “Or maybe he’s waiting for your brother to make his move.”

  My stomach turned.

  He said it like it was inevitable.

  Like we weren’t hoping the real Ryuji was just a weird rumor, but preparing for a hostile takeover.

  Like it was a chess game, and I was the guy who’d been using checkers rules the whole time.

  “You think he’s here?” I asked quietly.

  Tetsuya didn’t answer.

  But he didn’t say no either.

  That’s what made it worse.

  We started walking.

  Or rather—I walked, and Tetsuya loomed protectively beside me, scanning every streetlight and shadow like he expected a sniper.

  Maybe he wasn’t wrong.

  We reached the edge of the school’s outer wall, and that’s when I saw it again.

  That car.

  Same one.

  Parked across the street.

  Unmarked. Engine idling.

  And this time?

  The window rolled down.

  Just a little.

  Just enough to reveal a smile.

  That same, infuriating, familiar smile.

  Not Genzo’s.

  Not Takashi’s.

  Ryuji’s.

  It had to be.

  I took a step back.

  The car pulled away.

  Slow.

  Smooth.

  Gone.

  I didn’t say anything.

  Didn’t need to.

  Tetsuya saw it too.

  He didn’t smile.

  Didn’t panic.

  He just said, “It’s starting.”

  Scene 6 – Tick, Tick, Truth

  I didn’t sleep that night.

  Again.

  By now, my insomnia had its own frequent flyer miles.

  Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Genzo’s face.

  Not the stern dad face.

  The other one—the one that knew something I didn’t, and was enjoying it.

  Every time I blinked, I saw that car.

  That smile.

  That glint of recognition.

  Ryuji.

  I barely remembered what he looked like anymore. Just fragments.

  A laugh too sharp.

  Eyes too still.

  A smile that didn’t blink.

  And now?

  He was here.

  Somewhere.

  Not hiding.

  Not exactly.

  More like lingering.

  Waiting for something.

  No—someone.

  Me.

  By morning, I looked like a Halloween decoration that had given up. My uniform was wrinkled. My tie was barely tied. My soul? Already halfway in the recycling bin.

  “Hey, Boss,” Tetsuya said when I met him at the school gate.

  “Hey,” I croaked.

  “Still alive?”

  “Physically.”

  We stepped into the school just as the morning bell rang—opera music again. I wasn’t even mad.

  Not anymore.

  Just… numb.

  The halls were buzzing. Students whispering. Same words, same rumors.

  “He’s not the real one.”

  “There’s someone else.”

  “You can tell by the way he walks.”

  I changed the way I walked.

  Didn’t help.

  The looks still followed me.

  Like they knew.

  Like everyone knew.

  My locker had another note.

  I didn’t even flinch this time.

  Just unfolded it like a tax form.

  “Tell them the truth, or I will.”

  —R

  Tetsuya read over my shoulder. “So... casual threats now. Nice.”

  “Love that for me.”

  We walked to homeroom.

  That’s when I noticed the door.

  Classroom 2-B.

  Someone had changed the nameplate again.

  “Kenji Sakamoto – Student”

  Was now:

  “Kenji Sakamoto – Placeholder”

  Underneath, in red marker:

  “The Real One Returns Soon.”

  I tore it down.

  Threw it in the trash.

  Didn’t say a word.

  And then I turned.

  At the far end of the hallway—

  A student stood.

  Same uniform. Same haircut. Same height.

  But not me.

  He smiled.

  Then walked away.

  And I stood there.

  Frozen.

  Because that smile?

  I’d seen it before.

  In old photos.

  In memories.

  In mirrors.

  Ryuji.

  He was already in the school.