FLCL

Naota's class had decided on a play for the forthcoming school fair, which was three days away. However, Naota, who'd intended to skip practices and push the responsibility onto someone else, had only been half listening. He thought that because only about ten people would actually perform, there wasn't any real reason he should participate. Naota had important business after class, anyway.

'Don't you get it? You're the main part,' Ninamori informed Naota.

'You're the main part. Anyone can do my bit. I don't want to.'

'We voted on it. You're the cat, Naota.'

Suddenly reminded of his cat ears, Naota touched his cap with his hand. He didn't intend to remove his hat in class at any point during the day because it was his 'horn hider.' He'd told his homeroom teacher that he'd injured his head.

Cat… Naota grumbled.

Ninamori was right: The class had decided by a vote that Naota would play the cat.

Was it because I have to be the cat that these horns started growing? Naota asked himself.

'You'd better not skip the after-school practices,' Ninamori warned.

Class plays are so stupid! Why would she get so worked up about them? Naota wondered. Is it because she feels responsible as class president?

The first class of the day was Japanese, the boring, sleep-inducing subject during which one's energy was spent on deciding the direction and quality of little cartoons drawn in the corners of the textbook. If a student became too focused on his craft, he'd end up working at Gainax or Production I.G. (Taking it too far? Okay, okay…)

From a seat in front of the classroom, Masashi passed Naota a small booklet when the teacher wasn't looking. It was a small, cheap-looking mini-comic with 'Come on Mabase' printed on the front.

'Third page,' Masashi whispered.

Gaku, who was sitting diagonally opposite, flashed Naota an expression that said, 'Take a peek and you'll be surprised.' Gaku was probably the person who'd found the mini-comic and brought it to school in the first place. He was always bringing stupid things onto campus; no doubt, this comic was the same as the rest.

Upon opening the comic to the recommended page, Naota frowned. 'This…'

The contents of what was printed were far more dangerous than Naota had expected, and they certainly weren't anything that should've been passed around that particular class. It was an article exposing the corruption and personal scandal of Mabase's current mayor—Ninamori's father.

Without thinking, Naota glanced over at the class president, who was seated a short distance from him.

'Amazing, huh?' Masashi exclaimed. 'I found it at that Moniwa shop.'

'Moniwa?'

'You know, that shop run by the old lady who always appears as if she's sleeping and is packed with Crystal Pepsi.'

'Crystal Pepsi?'

'What are you doing over there?' When Naota's homeroom teacher Miyaji saw him and Masashi talking, Naota thought they were in for it. It wasn't that Naota was worried about being scolded for passing stuff in class— he was worried about having to hand over the comic to Miyaji.

Miyaji, who was in charge of Naota's class, was still a novice teacher. Her constant enthusiasm was good, but her inflexibility and denseness were not. In some ways, she was very much like a child.

'What's this?' After Miyaji flipped through the booklet she'd taken from Naota's hand, her face went red. 'Oh, this is awful. All the students who read this, stand up!'

Gaku, Masashi, and Naota stood up.

There were more students who must've seen it, but it was a rule that in situations like these, only those who'd been caught had to answer to the crime. There was no way any of them would mention anyone else's name.

Staring at the three pitiful students standing up, other students who hadn't been involved giggled.

After scanning the comic, Miyaji was at a loss for words. As expected, it was too intense for such a princess teacher. 'This is not allowed! No, no! From today, class one of the sixth grade is prohibited from bringing in vulgar material!'

The girls in the class tittered, thinking the suspects had been caught with a pervy comic. Ninamori smiled, too.

Please… is all Naota felt in his heart. Please lock that magazine up somewhere. We look foolish standing up here as it is. Just don't let Ninamori see that magazine.

Naota didn't normally care so much for Ninamori, but he didn't want her to be hurt by all her classmates should they find out what was inside the comic. Suddenly overcome with anger, he wondered what kind of senseless idiot would make such a horrid magazine.

'Reading crude material like this is an insult to Ninamori!' Miyaji blurted out, just as Naota had dreaded. His teacher was merely a child, after all. She was the type who'd talk in a loud voice on a battlefield and give away her position to the enemy.

Not surprisingly, Ninamori immediately realized that she—or rather, her father—was the topic of the magazine. She was a clever girl.

'Anything of value was taken by your brother, and all that was left was the cat. Now, you're thinking, 'What am I going to do with a cat?' Don't be so stressed. Calm down and take a good look around. You're bound to find something good. Meow.'

Chapter 2

What transpired after school was just as interesting.

In the end, Miyaji didn't show the confiscated magazine to anyone. Ninamori still felt as though she had to see it, however; so after practicing for the play, she headed toward the area where Moniwa was located. Gaku and Masashi had become tongue-tied, but Ninamori had gotten the other boys in the class to tell her where to find the mini-comic. It was right where she'd been told it would be, too—in a small shop that appeared as if it would collapse at any moment, with an old sign that read, 'Moniwa Confectioners.'

There was a car stopped in front of the shop, and it appeared as though the man driving was discussing something with the shop lady. Actually, it seemed as if the man were ranting at her more than he was talking to her. He was a suspicious-looking middle-aged guy who had a vicious glint in his eyes.

'Great response, right? I predicted that, didn't I? Investigative journalism is needed. Demand for my mini- comic of justice, Come on Mabase, is going to be so great tomorrow you'll probably have enough customers to sell all your out-of-date Crystal Pepsi.'

'We don't stock any out-of-date items here.'

'How about it? Won't you take a few more? A hundred? Eighty?'

That man had to be the creator of the mini-comic.

Noticing Ninamori shooting him a dirty look, the man said, 'Ah, princess, I bet this is what you're after,' handing her one of the magazines with a smug smile.

'Takkun ditched school, too, meow! You're becoming a bad kid, too, meow! Yum,' Mamimi purred, nibbling the nape of Naota's neck.

They were at a levee near Mabase Bridge. For some reason, Naota and Mamimi had started to meet at the bridge after school the night following the fire. Once again, their peculiar relationship had been reinstated. This was the 'important appointment' for which Naota had skipped play rehearsal. Almost every day, Mamimi kissed Naota's