Start with a Picture, Make Up the Rest

The news? Why would we want to get on the news?!

How could something so morally bankrupt happen to us?!

I grabbed Yukino’s slender wrist and pulled her around the girl with the vacant, perpetually zoned-out eyes. “Let’s go,” I said. “We’re not getting on the news.”

Yukino didn’t understand my aversion to this girl and the topic of news, but out of trust for the most reliable person in the dorm, that being me, she stumbled for a moment before obediently following behind me, like a little girlfriend whose boyfriend just told her, “We can’t afford that purse.”

“Please wait.” A voice, devoid of any inflection, as if read from a script, came from behind us.

The president of the news club pulled a small notebook and a pen from the pocket of her blazer. “I just want to ask what happened last night,” she said in a tone so flat it could have been computer-generated. “A lot of students saw you being taken away in a police car. I only have three questions for you. It will take half a minute of your time at most, so there’s no need to be in such a hurry to leave, Vice President Kiriko.”

“I’m not the vice president anymore!” Despite my protest, I stopped in my tracks, defeated. I turned back to face the girl who was staring at me with those lifeless eyes.

Unlike the martial arts club, the rock club, the airsoft club, or the matchmaking club, which were purely student-run, the news club was actually a department of the student council. They were responsible for editing and publishing the school newspaper and updating the campus website.

To the news club, the four of us being carted away by the police in the middle of the night was a major scoop. They had to publish a story about it. If I really refused the president now, she would follow me around relentlessly, not even leaving me alone in the bathroom. She’d stand there, jotting down notes about my… measurements… while interrogating me for the story she wanted. The news club president was just that dedicated and emotionless of a woman. I knew this because I used to be the vice president of the news club.

I was trapped. I really didn’t want to see an article about the strength of my bladder in the next issue of the school paper. Resigned, like a broken heroine in a NTR story, I dropped my shoulders. “Go ahead,” I sighed. “What are your questions?”

The president opened her little notebook and asked in her deadpan voice, “Last night, why did you go to the abandoned dormitory building?”

“For a paranormal livestream,” I answered truthfully.

“I see,” the president nodded seriously, scribbling in her notebook with a pen. “Four beautiful university students sneak into an empty, abandoned dormitory at midnight?! What they were streaming will shock you!”

Hearing her mutter that headline as she wrote, a vein popped on my forehead.

She continued in her monotone, “I saw that it wasn’t just the four of you taken away by the police. Were there other people in the abandoned dormitory at the time?”

I could only nod. “Yes, there were others.”

“Understood,” the president began scribbling and muttering again. “During the forbidden and thrilling livestream of these female university students, the unexpected happened! There were men in the abandoned dormitory! What happened next would make any man fall silent and any woman burst into tears.”

I could feel the muscles in my cheeks twitching, but I couldn’t argue. Nothing she said was technically untrue.

She lifted her vacant eyes to me. “So, in the end, why were you all taken away by the police? What happened?”

I was silent for a moment before answering. “…A murder.”

“Oh?” The president’s perpetually sleepy eyes finally widened a fraction, as if surprised by the mention of a murder. After a few seconds of stunned silence, she looked down at her notebook and wrote, “Hmm… The female university students and the man were *** during the livestream?! In the end, they were all taken away by the police who rushed to the scene.”

“Why do you have to write your headlines like that?!” My urge to complain erupted like a bottle of soda with a Mentos dropped in it. “I told you there was a murder! Isn’t a murder sensational enough? Why do you have to frame it like that?!”

“Vice President Kiriko,” the president looked at me blankly before dropping her gaze. “As the fastest-promoted vice president in the history of the news club, surely you understand? Only a headline that’s half-hidden and suggestive can attract the most readers.”

Perhaps a passing cloud had covered the sun, because the bright daylight suddenly seemed a bit dimmer. Many of the girls coming out of the dormitory building behind us were looking at us curiously, not just because of our striking appearances, but also because of this scene that looked like we were about to be in the papers. They were probably all making a mental note to check the next issue of the school paper to see what had happened.

It reminded me of Saber, back when she was in danger of being expelled for skipping too many classes and failing her exams. I had asked her, “If you really get expelled, what are your plans?”

Saber had shaken her head and sighed dramatically. “If I can’t be a student anymore, I’ll have to go to Tokyo to make a living.”

I understood immediately. “I see. So in the future, I’ll be able to find you in certain… video files… and see what kind of moves you’ve learned.”

Back in the present, the news club president put her notebook, now filled with a bunch of headlines, back into her blazer pocket. She dusted off her hands and said, “Thank you for your cooperation. My interview is over.”

“Huh?” Yukino, clearly unfamiliar with the president’s methods, asked in confusion, “That’s it? But you only asked a few things.”

“This is enough,” the president nodded, her face impassive. “Last night, I took several pictures of you being taken away by the police from my dorm. Honestly, just the pictures were enough.”

Her vacant eyes gazed up at the clouds, and she spoke slowly, with the gravity of a great philosopher about to reveal a profound truth. “After all, isn’t this what news is? You start with a picture, and the rest, you just make up.”

With that, she walked away, swinging her arms like a malfunctioning robot.

The four of us looked at each other. The consensus was that we were probably going to become famous on campus. Following the principle of “drink herbal tea if you’re afraid of getting too ‘hot’,” we immediately went to the cafeteria to solve our lunch problem, pairing it with several cans of herbal tea.

During lunch, the four of us sat at the edge of a long table, and we could constantly feel the stares of unfamiliar guys. They seemed to want to bring their trays over and sit with us, hoping to spark some beautiful, shameless romance. But none of them had the guts. They just kept shoving each other, trying to make their friends be the first to approach. In the end, one of them accidentally knocked over his friend’s hot food, and a fight broke out.

The four of us quietly left the cafeteria amidst the chaos.