Invincible Academy: My Invincible Childhood Friend Is Too Loved by Everyone - Behind the Smile, and the Unspoken Word "Protect"

Behind the first gymnasium after school, it was quiet and still. From the schoolyard came the shouts of club activities. The soccer club's whistle, the ping of the baseball club's metal bats. It was the end of September, the sun was setting earlier now, and the sky was already half orange. Mark Grayson stood with his back against the gymnasium wall. In his hands was a proposal he'd desperately put together the night before. The edges of the printed pages were slightly wrinkled from sweat. (Samantha and me, alone together for a planning meeting...) His heart was pounding. He remembered yesterday's group message from the festival committee. *"The first-year planning leads are Mark and Samantha. Please discuss and submit a proposal together."* Ever since then, his head had been full of Samantha. What should he talk about? What kind of event should he propose? No—could he even talk to her normally at all? "Sorry to keep you waiting, Mark." At the sound of her voice, he looked up. Samantha Clarke walked around the corner of the school building. Light chestnut hair in loose waves, long and flowing. A big ribbon caught the sunset and glowed gold. Wide, round sky-blue eyes. Those eyes that curved into crescent moons when she smiled—right now they were looking straight at Mark. The reinforced uniform of Central High. A custom piece made from a composite of aramid and carbon fiber, roughly twelve times stronger than a standard uniform. Even so, every time she walked, the hem of her skirt swayed softly. "Uh, ah, yeah. I mean, not like you kept me waiting—I just got here too." His voice nearly cracked. Samantha let out a little laugh. "Mark, you look so scary." "I—I don't look scary! This is just my normal face!" "Oh, is it? You've got a huge crease between your eyebrows." Samantha said it with a melting smile. That smile left Mark with nothing to say. (Because I'm nervous, okay...) Making excuses to himself, Mark held out the proposal. "A-anyway, here. The event ideas I came up with yesterday." "My, impressive. You actually made something." Samantha took the proposal. The instant her fingertips touched the paper, Mark unconsciously held his breath. (So close...) The distance between them was less than a meter. From Samantha's hair came the scent of shampoo. A sweet smell, like flowers. "Um, so for Class 1-3's event, after the class discussion we narrowed it down to three options—a haunted house, a café, or an exhibit..." "A haunted house sounds fun!" "Huh, a haunted house is okay? It's a lot of prep work, though. Blackout curtains, scary sound effects..." "It'll be fine. It's fun when everyone does it together." "When everyone does it together—you've got that strength problem, remember? Pull the blackout curtains and they'll tear. If the ghost tries to jump-scare someone, they might punch a hole in the wall." "Oh my, do you really think I'm that clumsy?" Samantha tilted her head teasingly. "Clumsy isn't the word—you literally ripped a door off its hinges last time. Knob and all." "That door was at fault. The knob just came off on its own." "The knob is innocent!" He couldn't help but retort, and they both laughed. (Hey, am I actually talking to her normally?) Mark felt relieved inside. Until yesterday, he'd lose track of what to say whenever he was in front of Samantha. Today, he was still okay. "Okay, so let's go with the haunted house direction and get a little more specific..." Just as Mark was about to flip through the proposal— *Crack.* The sound of metal being crushed. Mark looked up. Samantha had her hand on a stack of folding chairs piled behind the gym. No—"had her hand on" wasn't right. Her slender fingers were crushing the seat of the folding chair. The reinforced plastic seat was caving in like paper. "Huh?" "...Ah." Samantha looked at her own hand. Her sky-blue eyes went wide. "S-sorry, I just got so caught up in talking, and—" "No, that's way beyond 'just'! The seat is completely caved in!" "B-but this chair was kind of soft, you know?" "It's reinforced plastic! There's no way it's soft!" Mark shouted. Samantha gave a troubled smile. "Ahaha... sorry." Seeing that smile, Mark caught himself. (Something's off.) Samantha was smiling. Her usual melting smile. But her eyes were wavering, just a little. "...Well, let's just say this chair was already broken." "Wait, really? You'd do that?" "I'll say I broke it while using it for committee work. If word gets out that you did it, it'll be a pain, right?" "Mark..." Samantha's brows drooped slightly. "Thank you." It was a small voice. "I-it's not like I did it for you! As a committee member, equipment management is my job!" Mark hurriedly made excuses. His ears were hot. (Did I just act cool? Did I? Did I?) His thoughts spun in circles. Samantha let out a soft laugh. "Mark, you've always been like that." "L-like what?" "When you see someone in trouble, you can't just leave them alone." "...You think so?" "I know so." Samantha smiled mischievously. That smile was more natural than before. Mark gripped the proposal again. "All right, let's reset. Specific plans for the haunted house..." "Oh, wait. Lend me a pen." Samantha reached for the ballpoint pen in Mark's hand. *Snap.* A dry sound. Mark's ballpoint pen broke clean in half. "..." Silence fell between them. "I-I'm so sorry! I really can't control my strength!" Samantha apologized, her face pale. The pen fragments in her hand were trembling. "No, it's fine. That pen was from the hundred-yen store anyway." "But..." "I said it's fine. If you want to take notes on the proposal, I'll write them." Mark gently took the broken pen from Samantha's hand. Samantha's fingertips brushed against his hand. (...Cold.) It might just be because it was a September evening and the temperature had dropped. But it felt like more than that. "Samantha, are you okay?" "Huh?" "It's just—you seem kind of down today." Mark said it, taking the plunge. Samantha lowered her eyes for just a moment. "...No, I'm fine. I was just thinking about the physical assessment." "Physical assessment?" "Yeah. It's coming up soon, right? The annual measurement under the Anomaly Constitution Support Act." Samantha's voice grew a little quieter. "Depending on the readings, a report goes to an external regulatory agency. The Anomaly Management Bureau. Have you heard of it?" "Yeah... I know the name, at least." Mark nodded. The Anomaly Management Bureau. Official name: the Independent Administrative Agency for Anomaly Constitution Management. A government body whose purpose was measuring, registering, and monitoring the abilities of constitution-holders. On the surface it was "support"—but in reality, people said it was "management and isolation." "I get a little scared every year around this time." Samantha stared at her own palm. A small hand with faint calluses. "That these hands might break something again." "Samantha..." Mark felt he had to say something. But the words wouldn't come. "Sorry, I'm being gloomy. Let's get back to the haunted house." Samantha lifted her head brightly and smiled. That smile, after all, looked a little forced. "...Hey, Samantha." Mark swallowed hard. "Do you remember the Midtown Anomaly Incident?" Samantha's smile stopped. The sunset stretched the gymnasium's shadow long. The clamor of the schoolyard sounded far away. "...I remember." Samantha's voice went quiet. "I was six. I saw it on the news. A twelve-year-old boy broke a basketball hoop in a gymnasium, and the support post fell and injured three students." Mark listened in silence. "That boy had the same power as me. Excessive muscle strength. They showed his face on the news, and I told my mother, 'That kid's just like me.'" Samantha's fingers gripped the hem of her skirt tightly. "And then my mother was crying. Looking at me, crying. Saying 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry' over and over." "Samantha..." "That's when I understood. This power of mine hurts people. And if I keep smiling, everyone feels safe." Samantha looked at Mark. Her sky-blue eyes seemed wet with the sunset. "That's why I don't get angry. Because I don't know what would happen if I really did." Those words tightened something in Mark's chest. (Samantha has been... all this time...) All this time, hiding this fear behind her smile. "I'll protect you—" He started to say it. But the words stuck in his throat and wouldn't come out. Memories from middle school flashed through his mind. The school he'd transferred to. A boy being bullied in the corner of the classroom. Mark had seen the look in his eyes, begging for help. But he hadn't been able to do anything. The next day, that boy stopped coming to school. (I couldn't protect him.) The helplessness from back then still clung to Mark's heart. "Protect" isn't a word you can just throw around. If you say it and then fail, it becomes a lie. Mark bit his lip. "...Mark?" Samantha tilted her head, puzzled. "Ah, no, it's nothing. It's getting dark—let's head home." Mark forcibly changed the subject. "Yeah. Thank you for today, Mark." "Yeah." The two of them left the back of the gymnasium. They exited the school gate and walked for a while. Two weeks until the October school festival, the Highville Festival. The town was slowly beginning its festival preparations. "Hey, Mark. Want to stop by Central Park on the way?" Samantha said it suddenly. "Central Park? Sure, I don't mind." "I just felt like going." They headed for Highville Central Park, a twelve-minute walk from Central High. By the time they arrived, the sky had begun turning deep indigo. Highville Central Park. A park of about twelve acres in the city center. A fountain, a lawn plaza, playground equipment, a small library branch. It was the place where Samantha and Mark had played together as children. They stood before the fountain. The water was lit up, glowing orange. "This brings back memories." "Yeah." Mark glanced at the edge of the fountain. *"Samantha Clarke — 2012 — Restored."* A small plaque was embedded there. "This is still here, huh." "Fufu, of course it is. My dark history." Samantha smiled mischievously. "Dark history—you broke this fountain when you were six. Water shot out everywhere and flooded the whole park." "I really did feel terrible that time. I was crying, wasn't I?" "You were crying. And then I said, 'I'll fix it.'" Mark traced back the distant memory. "But I couldn't fix it. What six-year-old can fix a fountain? In the end, the city people fixed it." "Yeah. But you know, Mark—" Samantha sat on the edge of the fountain. Mark sat beside her. "You were trying so hard back then. 'I'll fix it! I'll definitely fix it!'—you said it while crying." "I-I wasn't crying!" "You were. Your nose was running too." "I don't remember that!" Mark's face grew hot. "But I was happy. Because you cried with me back then, I was able to smile again." Samantha smiled softly. That smile was the most natural one he'd seen from her all day. (Ah, that's right. This is the smile I love.) Mark thought it from the bottom of his heart. Maybe just being beside her is enough. More than protecting or not protecting, more than any of that. Just being next to her, so she can smile. That alone. "...Mark, you look so scary." "Huh, was I making a scary face just now?" "You were. A very serious face. What were you thinking about?" "N-nothing!" Mark hurriedly turned his face away. Samantha giggled. But her eyes weren't laughing. "...The physical assessment scares me." Samantha let it slip out. Her voice was small and frail. It lingered heavily in Mark's chest. "Samantha..." Mark wanted to say something. But he couldn't. (What can I do?) The answer still hadn't come. The two of them gazed at the fountain for a whil

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Episode 2

Name: Invincible Academy: My Invincible Childhood Friend Is Too Loved by Everyone
Author: Novelia

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