Cowboy Bebop Academy Session: Spike's Suffering and the Five Girls - The Nihilist on the Rooftop and the Electronic Sound in the Bag

" ...Hell if I know. I was just sleeping." At the podium, the young homeroom teacher had veins bulging on his forehead. First thing in the new semester, and there's a student at the window seat, chin in hand, eyes closed before introductions are even finished—of course he'd be angry. Private Bebop Academy High School. A reasonably respectable prep school, ninety-two years old, sitting in the midwest of Capris City. Once a shipbuilding boomtown, the city is now just another port town—rusted cranes and shuttered storefronts everywhere you look. The Capris River runs through the center: to the north, gleaming high-rises from redevelopment; to the south, an old shopping arcade and the ruins of the shipyards. The academy sat right in between. Spike Spiegel was a second-year there. His messy black hair was a nest of bedhead, and he wore a baggy white shirt with a black school jacket thrown over it—not a shred of motivation in the whole outfit. He'd parked his lanky, six-foot frame in the window seat, wearing his usual sleepy face. His right eye was deep brown. His left was artificial, and depending on the light it looked faintly blue. He didn't know it himself, but that left eye was a cutting-edge "Orbit Eye Mk-IV"—a marvel that could do night vision and recording. Not that the current Spike ever used any of that. "Spiegel! Are you listening!" " Yeah, yeah, I'm listening. New semester's resolution: strong in both academics and athletics, right?" Spike cracked one eye open and said whatever came to mind. Giggles leaked from all corners of the classroom. The teacher sighed and started handing out printouts. Spike looked out the window. The cherry blossoms in the schoolyard had begun to fall, petals riding the wind. The April air carried a faint tang of salt. The smell of this city. Iron and salt, drifting up from Capris Harbor. (...What a pain.) That was the entire contents of his head. Spike Spiegel was the son of a hardware store. His father ran a little shop called Spiegel Hardware in the Capris Central Arcade—a stubborn, single-minded craftsman who wanted his son to take over the business. Spike had no such intention. He skipped helping at home, skipped class, and before he knew it he was napping on the roof. That was his every day. The chime marking the end of first period rang. Spike rose sluggishly, shoved his textbooks and notebooks into his desk, and left the classroom. Down the hall. Toward the emergency stairs. On the way, he overheard two girls from his class talking in the corridor. "Hey, who do you think's gonna be this year's festival committee chair?" "Who knows. It's volunteer-based, right? Nobody wants the hassle." "But you get an extra half credit toward graduation. Low-key a sweet deal." Spike didn't slow down. The school festival could go to hell. Credits—eh, he'd figure something out. He pushed open the emergency stair door. The rusted hinges groaned. He climbed the stairs to the roof of the five-story building, one step at a time. Nobody else was around. At this hour, the only person who used the emergency stairs was Spike. The staircase was famous for setting off the fire alarm by accident, but right now it was quiet. Out onto the roof. The wind blew. Through the rusted gaps in the fence, the smell of the sea came pouring in. The shadow of the water tower made a perfectly good patch of shade. This was Spike's reserved seat. He spread his school jacket on the ground and flopped down. The hardness of the concrete pressed against his back. The sky was blue, clouds drifting slowly. (Nice weather.) Spike closed his eyes. How long did he sleep? When he woke, the sun had climbed a good deal higher. Somewhere past noon. He wasn't hungry. He'd gnawed on some bread that morning, but he hadn't moved enough to feel empty. Spike sat up, leaned against the fence, and looked up at the sky. Then, unconsciously, he pressed his left eye lightly with his left hand. The feel of the artificial eye. Cool to the touch—a strange sensation, like it wasn't part of his own body. "...I wonder which eye I'm seeing the world with right now." He said it out loud and laughed a little at himself. He'd lost his right eye three years ago. That time was sealed away behind the artificial one. More accurately—he tried not to remember. When he did try, the back of his left eye seemed to prickle with pain. So he didn't think about it. The wind blew and stirred his hair. Then, suddenly, a face surfaced in his mind. Long blonde hair. Blue eyes. His childhood friend, Julia Lee. Spike clicked his tongue softly. (Not like it's any of my business anyway.) Julia had a boyfriend now. The school's delinquent leader, Vicious Bounty. A third-year who wore his black school jacket sloppily, with sharp, cold eyes. Officially he was the gang leader; rumor had it that behind the scenes he was a low-level member of a loan shark operation called the Greed Syndicate. Spike pictured Vicious and clicked his tongue again. Word was the guy called him "a beast with its fangs pulled." Never said to his face, but he'd heard it from others. (Fangs, huh.) Spike traced a rusted patch of the fence with his finger. Reddish-brown powder clung to his fingertip. (Yeah. Maybe so.) He went back to the water tower's shadow to continue his nap. Some time later, it was after school. Spike came down from the roof and was walking toward the school gate. On the way home, maybe he'd grab a coffee in the central arcade. The master of the café "Milk Hall Capris," Taro, knew how to keep his mouth shut. It was a good place to sit alone at the counter and stare into space. As he neared the gate, he heard a commotion. "Stop right there! Don't run!" "Hey, cut around that way!" Spike stopped walking. Beyond the gate, near the wall, a woman in a flashy suit was running. Purplish-black hair cut short, the ends flipping up. Big amber eyes darting around like a cat hunting prey. A well-built woman, about five foot six. Behind her, two men in suits were chasing. Big, burly types who looked exactly like what they were—debt collectors. "You bitch, Faye! At least pay the interest!" "Don't you mess with the Greed Syndicate!" The Greed Syndicate. At the name, Spike's brow twitched, just slightly. The woman put a hand on the wall and vaulted over it lightly. Not a skirt—she was wearing a flashy suit that was easy to move in. As she landed on school grounds, the men chasing her shouted in frustration from the other side of the wall. "Damn it, that woman got away again!" "Next time we catch her, she's gonna pay for this!" The men left with that parting shot and disappeared. Inside the wall, the woman smoothed her messed-up hair with her hand and let out a breath. Then she spun around—and her eyes met Spike's. Spike looked away immediately. (Getting involved would be a pain.) Having decided that, he walked briskly out the gate. He thought he heard a voice behind him—"Hey, you, the sleepy-looking one"—but he ignored it. Debt collectors. The Greed Syndicate. A woman named Faye. (...Not my problem.) As if to convince himself, Spike walked toward the arcade. That night. Spike's room was a small six-mat space on the second floor of the hardware store. A bed, a desk, clothes scattered on the floor. One old poster on the wall. Through the window, the lights of the arcade glowed faintly. Spike lay on the bed, staring vaguely at his terminal screen. Nothing in particular he wanted to see. Only time passed. Then it happened. Beep, beep-beep—an electronic sound came from the corner of the room. Spike sat up. The sound was coming from his school bag. Beep-beep-beep, beep-beep, beep. A pattern that seemed regular but wasn't. Like some kind of signal. "...What the hell?" Spike approached the bag and gingerly opened the zipper. A small creature poked its head out. A dog. A small dog. It looked like a corgi, but something was off. Big ears, and eyes that looked unnervingly smart. And on its back, the number "01" glowed faintly pale blue. "Huh?" The dog looked up at Spike's face and gave a small "woof." Then it hopped out of the bag and onto the bed. It began deftly operating the terminal by the pillow with its front paws. The screen scrolled on its own. "Hey, you." The dog ignored him, gliding through the terminal's screens. Clearly not normal dog behavior. The way it moved its paws, it was like it was reading some kind of data. Spike stared blankly for a while, then heaved a deep sigh. "...What are you?" He thought about kicking it out. He thought about it—but the dog had already curled up in the middle of the bed. It had stopped messing with the terminal and begun breathing softly in sleep. Spike sighed again. (...Well. One night, I guess.) With that thought, he laid himself down at the edge of the bed. Morning came. He woke to the morning sun through the window—and the dog had already slipped into his school bag. It seemed to have opened the zipper itself, climbed in, and zipped it back up. Too clever by half. "...You planning to come to school?" From inside the bag came a "woof" in reply. Spike scratched his head. (...Eh. Whatever.) And so he ended up going to school with a dog in his bag. When he entered the classroom, it was noisy as usual. Second day of the new semester, and his classmates were still restless. Spike sat in the window seat and hung his bag on the side of his desk. First period began, and about ten minutes in— The bag's zipper slowly opened from the inside. Spike watched it out of the corner of his eye. The dog's face poked out of the bag. In the morning light, the "01" on its back was almost invisible. It just looked like a normal, slightly smart dog. "Whoa, a dog!" A girl at a nearby desk raised her voice. The whole classroom started buzzing. "Spiegel, did you bring a dog to school?" "So cute! Is it a corgi?" Spike, chin still in his hand, answered lazily. " Hell if I know. It just walked in on its own." The dog kept its head out of the bag, looking around the classroom. The way it did it—like it was observing an unfamiliar place—sent a slight chill down Spike's spine. Class went on. The Japanese teacher began writing something on the blackboard. Then, from inside the bag, that electronic sound again. Beep, beep-beep, beep. A small sound, but it carried in the quiet classroom. "Hm? What was that sound?" Spike peered into the bag. The dog was operating a small electronic device with its front paws—one it had produced from somewhere. It was Spike's terminal. When had it even taken it out? The screen scrolled at high speed. "...This thing's no ordinary dog." Spike muttered under his breath. The dog raised its head and looked at Spike. Its eyes seemed to be pleading something—or testing him. Spike pressed the dog's head lightly with a finger. " For now, keep quiet during class." The dog gave a small "woof" and retreated into the bag. Spike looked out the window. The April sky was blue again today. The smell of the sea drifted all the way into the classroom. (...Looks like things are getting complicated.) Even as he thought it, Spike decided—eh, whatever—and closed his eyes. Things would turn out how they turned out.

日本語

What is Novelia? →

Episode 1

Name: Cowboy Bebop Academy Session: Spike's Suffering and the Five Girls
Author: Novelia

What is Novelia?

Novelia is an AI-powered platform to read original light novels and fan fiction, create your own in just a few taps, and chat with the characters. New, illustrated episodes arrive daily — free to start.

Learn more about Novelia →New sign-ups get 5,000pt