Things aren’t all bad, though, because his first class of the day is taught by his passably hot PE teacher, Mr Kondo. He’s still half asleep, so misses how the lesson led up to this point, but Kondo nominates him to answer the following question: what time are thieves most likely to break into a house in Japan? Gary doesn’t see “What the fuck does this have to do with sports?” among the possible responses, so he picks the first time that comes into his head, 8am. Amazingly, it turns out to be the correct answer, so Gary files it away in his brain with all the other useless information he’ll never need in his adult life. It’s scary how just full that section of his brain is getting already.
After school, the Invisible Narrator practically pins Gary to his desk while he reminds him about the culture clubs and their new intake. Incidentally, I wish he’d use different terminology, because now I keep picturing Gary dressed as Boy George, circa 1983. “Maybe you can find out how to join at the Faculty Office…” the IN coaxes. Jesus, not this again. I’m pretty sure Gary knows where the Faculty Office is by now. Do You Really Want to Hurt Me like this, IN?
Having just basically ordered Gary to go to the Faculty Office, the IN also chooses to give him a friendly reminder that he can work at the daycare today, too. As much as he would like it if it were possible, Gary can’t be in two places at once, so shove it, IN. Down at the Faculty Office, the lair of that most despised of teachers, Wiggy, Gary plucks up the courage to address the toupee-d one himself. Just like when the sports club was brought up, Wiggy immediately jumps to the conclusion that Gary’s only looking for girls. Fucking hell, Wiggy, didn’t you get the memo? Even putting aside the “Oh my God, Wiggy, change the batteries in your fucking gaydar!” aspect, this just demonstrates how much of an idiot the guy is. Yeah, Gary’s existing classes may be full of icky females he could chase if he were so inclined, but wait! He clearly wants to give up entire blocks of his limited free time in order to infiltrate the cultural clubs and plunder the unsuspecting maidens therein! Someone must stop him!
Anyone would think this guy has a complex.
With such bastions of intelligence as Wiggy on the faculty, it’s a minor miracle any of the students in this place can read or write. In between berating Gary for his despicable sexual predation, he manages to find time to reveal that the two clubs currently taking in new members are the music and drama groups. In a heartbeat, Gary chooses music. OK, he’s inexperienced, but he quite likes the idea of getting his hands on a big organ. Blowing a French horn. Playing the pink trombone. Any number of other music-related euphemisms I can’t think of right now. Besides, there’s enough drama going on in his personal life without adding to it by having to sit in a circle and watch a succession of weepy teenage girls work out their issues through intensive role play. That, and pretending to be a tree isn’t really his idea of a good time.
Once he finds the music room, Gary pauses momentarily outside the door. Maybe there’ll be a bunch of hot dudes in the school band…just for the purposes of window-shopping, of course. Sadly, the only people he finds inside are…well, let’s just say nobody’s going to confuse them with cheerleaders or members of the sports team. Not that that’s a bad thing; everyone’s different, and I know that if my school had had a band, I’d have been right up there with the rest of them. Still, it would have been nice if Gary had something nice to look at while playing with his instrument.
One of the band members, a shy-looking girl with a permanent blush and the world’s most unfortunate haircut, walks right into Gary like he’s not even there. Jesus, girl, the guy’s like two feet taller than you; he’s not difficult to see. She apologizes, and Gary tells her he’s here to join the band. She yells for the captain, who arrives under cover of a Black Screen of Who the Hell Is This Guy and Why Is He Interrupting Our Practice. The nameless captain introduces Gary to the other band members, who give him a considerably warmer welcome than all the soccer team douchebags who aren’t named Daisuke or Kou. When asked if he has any prior musical experience, Gary hesitantly answers, “Some…” hoping that “playing 3-chord songs on the ukulele” falls under this umbrella. He feels a lot better about stretching the truth when the captain–let’s call him Mike–apologetically admits, “We aren’t really that good…” Hey, Mike, it’s totally cool; Gary can teach you how to play You Are My Sunshine in five minutes!
Mike invites Gary to watch the band practice, a prospect Gary is simply thrilled by. What better way to spend an afternoon than listening to a few hours of out-of-tune honking and screeching? Thankfully, a black screen spares the rest of us from the ordeal, but not before blush girl shyly introduces herself as Ayane, a first-year trombone player. When the black screen subsides, she and Gary are the only band members remaining in the practice room. As much as it pains me to say it, I’m pretty sure fanfics of an explicit nature have been inspired by this very moment. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Ayane remembers she has to tell Gary which days the band practices on (Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays), and he mentally adds the dates to his diary, which is already bulging like Squall at a male sauna. “If you keep at it, this is a great way to learn to express yourself! Though…I’m not the best example of that…” Ayane says. This is important, because she’s shy and lacks self-confidence. It’s vital that I draw attention to that character detail right away, because it’s so easy to miss and the game designers will never bring it up again.
What did those poor invalids and senior citizens do to deserve such a fate?
Oh, you guys will believe anything. Blushing even more than she usually does, Ayane asks if Gary has any questions for her, and one of his possible replies is to ask if she has a boyfriend. So, so wrong. Aside from the obvious reasons, the girl only looks about eleven years of age. What squicks me out even more is the fact that Ayane actually becomes Gary’s love interest, should the player make the right choices. Not in this version of the game, she won’t. Avoiding any unfortunate implications, Gary asks her where the band usually plays, and she reveals that their usual venues are hospitals and retirement homes. If the band is as bad as Mike indicated, I hope most of those victims spectators have hearing aids with removable batteries.
Ayane goes on that the band isn’t big enough to enter competitions (yeah, I bet that’s the excuse the competition organizers give them), but that people usually enjoy their performances as they “pour [their] hearts into the music.” I guess sympathetic applause is better than complete silence. She then lets slip that she rarely plays, instead being tasked with managing the band’s paperwork. If only she were given an opportunity to show what she can do! She starts clearing up the mess her lazy fellow players have left behind, and Gary gets the option to help her out–accompanied by the Invisible Narrator’s “encouragement”, obviously. He would have given her a hand anyway, since he isn’t a selfish asswipe (and he remembers how pissed off he was when he was left to clean up by the soccer team), but the IN’s incessant prodding definitely had some influence on his decision. He’d do anything to shut that fucker up.
Blushing so much that she can probably be seen from space right now, Ayane declines Gary’s assistance, saying that although she’s grateful for his offer, cleaning up is her sole responsibility. Um, as decreed by whom? Granted, I know little of symphonic band hierarchy, so maybe this is actually a thing, but I always thought cleanup was something that everyone pitched in with, or at least took turns to do. But no, Ayane apparently has to stay behind and tidy up everyone else’s equipment after every practice session. From the little Gary’s seen of her, she isn’t even one of those people who’ll fall over themselves to agree to help someone, then bitch about it behind their back later–she genuinely doesn’t mind being treated like a doormat. Well, more fool her, Gary thinks–he has too much on his plate to worry about her lack of assertiveness. With impeccable timing, the IN and the Wordy Tarot Guy swoop in and inform Gary that Ayane here represents the Sun Social Link. I’m not quite sure which criteria the Persona gods use to match up individuals with each Major Arcanum–and if you happen to have a lengthy, detailed theory which explains the process, I’d be happy not to read it–but in this case I’m fanwanking that Ayane represents the Sun because her cheeks are brighter than it.
Back home, Nanako cheerfully tells Gary that she went shopping today, so the fridge is full of food. What, you thought her dad took responsibility for ensuring his daughter gets fed? As he’s getting sick of the slop served up in the school cafeteria, Gary decides to make lunch for tomorrow, hoping that he isn’t going to give himself food poisoning in the process. No doubt the IN would be in his element describing the ensuing bowel evacuations in vivid detail. He has the required ingredients to make Pork Ginger, a recipe that seems simple enough…except he’s never actually attempted to make it before. Hey, how hard can it be?
There’s a joke about lube in there somewhere.
When presented with the pork meat, Gary isn’t sure whether to marinate it in oil, score it with a knife, or simply blanch it. He goes for the latter, ending up with the unappetizing-sounding Dry Pork Ginger. Well, he never pretended to be a chef, and it would have helped if he’d had a fucking recipe to hand, so he’s actually done reasonably well given the circumstances. Still, he feels like a culinary failure, so goes straight to bed in a bad mood. Maybe he’ll be able to enroll in a cookery club tomorrow, just to add to the other fifty million events and appointments he already has to cram into his all too short weeks.
Tuesday morning finds Gary sitting in a semi-comatose state while his Mathematics teacher drones on and on about prime numbers. We haven’t met her before, but compared to her more…eccentric colleagues, such as Queen Tut and Mr Garrison, Mrs Nakayama seems pretty ordinary. In fact, there’s absolutely nothing noteworthy about her at all, so much so that she doesn’t even get to appear on the cast list. Too bad, Mrs Nakayama! As refreshingly normal as she appears, she still can’t resist casually dropping some crazy dialogue into the mix. Apparently, there’s a wild animal living somewhere near the shopping district, and this mysterious beast has somehow worked out how to stick its paw into the change dispenser of the nearby vending machine. How any of this relates to numeracy, Gary has no clue, but at least it gave him a ten-second reprieve from scrambling his brain with numbers.
At lunchtime, the IN reminds Gary that he’s brought his tasteless Dry Pork Ginger for lunch. Yeah, Gary was trying to forget about that, but thanks anyway. He doesn’t really fancy eating alone at his desk, so he invites Yosuke to dine together on the school rooftop. How romantic. Imagine my disappointment when we cut to the two guys simply sitting on a concrete ledge, with not a candle or gingham tablecloth in sight. Gary, you’re not going to keep Yosuke keen without making an effort, you know?
The disappointing lunch date gets even worse when Gary invites Yosuke to nibble on his pork. In a shocking turn of events, Yosuke admits he doesn’t like the taste of Gary’s meat, turning his world on its head. “You should try making better food next time…” the IN chides. Yeah, and if we’re giving each other “advice”, you should try throwing yourself into the nearest woodchipper. Dick. “You feel that your relationship is going to become closer soon…” the IN feebly offers as an apology for his unwelcome commentary. Too late, IN, the damage is already done. Gary’s going to cry himself to sleep tonight because of your insensitive remarks.
After school, Gary’s compelled to return to the rooftop–let’s just say that he left his lunchbox up there in his earlier distressed state. He finds Chie sitting nearby, and she offers to hang out with him for a while. Usually, he would only accept her offer as a last resort–not only does she possess a vagina, he can’t even discuss guys with her–but today, he jumps at the chance. He’s still trying to keep his distance from Daisuke and Kou, and after today’s events he isn’t really in the mood to spend time with Yosuke, either. Maybe a male-free afternoon is just what he needs right now.
Sure. Just so long as you mean train, and not ‘train’.
Unfortunately, all Chie wants to do when they arrive at the Samegawa riverbank is hone her martial arts skills by getting in some training. Girl, Gary is so not in the mood. I mean, at a push, he could have tolerated you rhapsodizing about steak and/or Yukiko for four hours, but star jumps and flutter kicks are not on his agenda today. Chie insists she has to practice now because her parents have banned her from training indoors ever since she kicked a hole through the shoji (and yes, I did have to google that). Even though faking the required enthusiasm takes herculean effort, Gary decides to humour her, lest she kick a hole in his face as well. She’s overjoyed at his apparent eagerness to train with her, but first there’s time for a heart-to-heart. There’s always time for a heart-to-heart in this game. “That thing…y’know, from that time?” she says vaguely, and then clarifies, “I mean the Shadow that came out of me.” Gary makes a mental note to start calling her Melisandre in private, and then puts on his best Serious Yet Sympathetic Face. Chie reveals that she’s still trying to get her head around the concept of her Shadow self, but resolves to train even harder in the meantime. Well, that’s nice, but don’t go thinking Gary’s your permanent training partner or anything. The Chariot Social Link rises to Level 2 at this time, so he concedes that this hasn’t been a complete waste of his afternoon. Almost, but not quite. Sadly, we fade out before the hilarious sight of him attempting to perform frog leaps.