2
Surely, Iroha Isshiki is made of sugar and spice and everything nice.
The heater was rattling.
The one installed in the clubroom was pretty old, and something always went wrong with it if you left it running too long. Was the fan stuck? Or was there some problem with the motor? Or maybe the frame was twisted?
After school, around sunset, our club’s heater-chan had started to make these very quiet little noises, as if letting us know she was reaching her limit.
When I was focused on reading or when the girls were talking, it didn’t bother me much. But the moment things went quiet, I could make it out.
Her eyes down on her paperback, Yukinoshita paused her hand in turning a page, then looked over to the heater by the window. It seemed to have caught her attention, too. “…Seems more quiet than usual, hmm.”
“Yeah. It’s kinda calming.” Yuigahama looked up from her phone and reached out to her mug.
I followed suit, picking up my traditional-style cup as well, chugging the black tea that was no longer steaming.
Yuigahama and I both expelled sighs of satisfaction, and then once again, in the silence, there came the little rattle. Even Yuigahama must have noticed it, as she glanced over to the heater.
Isshiki had been showing up to the clubroom with increasing frequency, so maybe that was why we hadn’t much noticed the noises coming from the heater.
It was not that Isshiki was always loud or talkative or made a racket, but simply that when she was gone, her absence turned our attention to other things. I mean, when Isshiki came around, she was generally bringing some dumb issue with her, so naturally, it made things in here more hectic.
Thanks to her, it had been some time since it was so quiet in here.
While enjoying the warm tea and snacks, I distractedly read my book, listening to the sound of one calm voice and one cheerful one chatting in the background, and occasionally joining the conversation.
We had no guests and no work to do—even time was slow. Once you got used to it, it was just an inconsequential, mundane routine, but it had been a while since we’d fallen back on it. It was rather nice. The noises from the heater were almost charming somehow, like the rhythmic patter of rain.
I closed my book, listening to the heater doing its best, and looked over to the window.
As I was gazing at the sunset and zoning out, Yukinoshita started to talk again. “Then how about we call it a day?”
“Yeah, it doesn’t look like anyone’s coming,” Yuigahama replied. “Last cookie’s mine!” she chirped and started cleaning up the snacks.
Yukinoshita and I got ready to go, then took care of the last sweep to make sure the room was ready to be locked. While checking to make sure the windows were closed, I reached out to the heater switch. “You did good today,” I said, then flicked off the power, and the rattling stopped. It was going to be cold for a while, so it’d be a good idea to tell Miss Hiratsuka about this to get the heater inspected or fixed.
Wrapping ourselves in our coats and scarves, the three of us went out into the hallway. Yukinoshita locked the door of the clubroom.
Now business was closed for the day.
With work over, all that was left was to return home. When we stepped out from the clubroom into the hallway of the special-use building, Yuigahama shivered, pulling together the front of her coat. “…It’s freezing out here! It’s so cold in the hallway!”
The emptiness of the passageway alone was enough to create a chill. It was as if the cold air was rising up from the floor. I wrapped my scarf tighter. “It’s ’cause the clubroom was warm. It makes you feel colder.”
“There’s no heating out here.” Yukinoshita strode off, implying that we just needed to shake it off.
Lining up beside her, Yuigahama stroked her scarf, a rather pensive look on her face. “Hmm… Oh, I know!” she piped up, leaping on Yukinoshita and clinging to her arm. “Maybe this’ll warm us up!”
“H-hey, Yuigahama.” Yukinoshita swayed, and her tone was a little sharp, with a protest in her gaze. But seeing Yuigahama’s warm and fuzzy expression, she sighed in resignation.
“…Ohhh, you’re so warm!”
“It’s hard to walk…”
I don’t think the temperature had changed much, but the apparent temperature seemed to be higher. Just seeing their exchange did make me warmer, actually!
Even after Yukinoshita was done returning the key to the teachers’ room, Yuigahama was glued to her hip. Following the two girls wrapped around each other, I went on down the hallway to the front entrance, where a familiar face emerged from the student council room.
“Huh? It’s Iroha-chan. Yahallo!” Her right hand still coiled around Yukinoshita’s arm, Yuigahama gave a little wave with her left hand.
Isshiki trotted over. “Ohhh, hellooo! Good thing you’re still here!”
“We were just about to leave,” Yukinoshita said, with Yuigahama still attached to her. I feel like an outsider would be really weirded out and think, What’s with all the flirting…?
But of course, this was Isshiki. Maybe she was just used to it, as she didn’t seem bothered at all, replying calmly as usual. “I was just finishing up now, so I was thinking I’d stop by for a bit.”
“Did you have some kind of business?” I asked her.
“Yes, as a matter of fact!” Isshiki nodded. She glanced at the girls like she was concerned about something, then beckoned me with a tiny gesture. “Heeey, do you have a minute?”
“Huh? Uhhh…sure…” I looked over to Yukinoshita and Yuigahama, signaling to go on without me, and both of them nodded. Isshiki tugged me along by the sleeve to the edge of the hallway, by the window.
The sky had dimmed to a darker shade, and the wind hitting the glass seemed icy. With her back to the glass, Isshiki seemed a little hesitant. “Um, what about that job I asked you about before? I’d like an answer soon…”
“Mm, yeah. I’ll do it. I’ll figure it out.”
Upon hearing job, I reflexively gave her the standard answer of a corporate cog: apparent eagerness, if nothing else. I didn’t want her talking to me about work as I was leaving. The Service Club was done with business for the day. I wanted her to leave that sort of thing for another time. It was cold, and I wanted to go home now.
After giving her that slimy reply, I turned around—but then Isshiki called to me from behind. “Oh, really? So then is ten tomorrow at Chiba Station good?”
“Huh? Tomorrow?” I turned back to her on instinct.
That was the weekend. The Hikigaya household has a biweekly break—meaning two days off a week. A day off is a day off. The issue is the Service Club also had a biweekly break—but biweekly in the “once every two weeks” definition. Biweekly can mean different things, you know. There’s a nugget of knowledge for you. In other words, if she was saying work in the Service Club sense, then even if it was the weekend, I could be forced into business. If you really think about it, that’s not even a biweekly break. What’s with this exploitative club…?
“Uh, I can’t really tomorrow…” I would give a random excuse in order to secure my weekend.
Isshiki stuck her finger on her chin and cocked her head cutely. “But you know tomorrow’s free, right?”
“How should I know…?”
I always wondered why Isshiki kept talking under the assumption that I would be aware of things she’d never told me. I’m not aware of your plans or whatever. I don’t know everything. I just know what I know.
Isshiki puffed up her cheeks in that calculating way of hers. “But we’re talking about you here.”
“Me…? Uh, that makes less sense. Well, it’s true I’m free…”
“I kneeew it. See ya tomorrow! I’m looking forward to your being hard at work! Buh-bye!”
“O-okay…”
Isshiki beamed at me, ending the discussion, then waved bye-bye.
Nooo! Irohasu has such a nice smile! Not only can I not refuse her, I feel like I’m not even allowed to ask questions or inquire about details!
Ah, crap! Did I promise something…? She said it was for a job… I bet she asked me to do something…but it doesn’t ring any bells…
Somehow that smile felt like a physical shove in the direction of the front entrance.
After a few steps forward, I turned to look back at Isshiki, but she still had that same grin plastered on her face and continued to wave at me.
Well, this was me we were talking about. There was the possibility I’d said whatever it took to get away from her. In fact, that’s the only possibility. The issue was the promise itself…
I just couldn’t remember. Burying my face in my scarf as I mumbled to myself in muffled grunts, I considered various potential options, but I just couldn’t think of it.
As I racked my brain, I arrived at the entrance, where I saw Yukinoshita and Yuigahama standing there talking. I’d made them wait, hadn’t I?
“Ack, sorry. You could’ve just gone without me…,” I said, and Yuigahama spun around to face me. The momentum yanked on Yukinoshita’s hand, which was still in her grasp. This is just like when you take a pampered dog that drags you around on a walk.
“Oh, we weren’t really waiting for you. Yukinon and I were talking, and we just kinda wound up staying behind…right?” Yuigahama turned to ask Yukinoshita, who stuck her nose in the air.
“…That’s right.” Yukinoshita somehow looked like a cat that didn’t appreciate being held.
“All right. Well, uh…thanks anyway.” When I expressed my gratitude, they gave little shakes of their heads. That very trivial gesture was weirdly embarrassing to me, so I slipped my feet into my loafers and walked on out.
When we emerged outside, it was already dark. Though it was almost spring by the lunar calendar, it would be some time until the days got longer.
As I headed from the entrance to the front gate, Yuigahama trotted up beside me. “What did Iroha-chan say?”
“Uh, I don’t really know… She has some job, but the details are lost on me…”
“That explanation tells us nothing…,” Yukinoshita commented with exasperation and a smile as she came up one step behind me.
But with work, you don’t often get much of an explanation. The fact was that our activities as the Service Club thus far had been largely without any details… We had experienced one too many situations where things would have gone smoother if we’d just gotten an explanation to begin with, and now I felt like, you know, reports, communication, and discussion were important.
Taken from another angle: If you just do your reporting and communicating and discussing, you can even flake out on doing the work itself. And if the higher-ups complain, you can worm your way out of responsibilities by snapping back at them like, But I already filed reports and communicated and discussed this with you!
I was ready to wiggle out of the job tomorrow using these tactics!
It was the weekend on a clear winter day. Chiba Station was buzzing with people. It probably wasn’t nearly as bad as Tokyo, but I wasn’t used to going out on weekends, so it seemed plenty crowded to me.
Watching the people rushing in front of the station in my peripheral vision, I checked the time: 10:05. It was past the appointed time, yet there was still no sign of Isshiki. Unfortunately, I didn’t know her number to check with her, either.
If we’re meeting in front of the station, you’d assume it’s at the east entrance, but maybe she’s gone to the other one…? Or maybe she’s at Keisei Chiba Station. I mean, it used to be called National Railway Chiba Eki-mae Station Your Guess Is as Good as Mine… That was the name… And even aside from one of the original Chiba stations, there’s also Nishi Chiba, Higashi Chiba, and Hon Chiba, and Chiba Minato, Chiba Kouen, Chiba Chuo, and even Chiba New Town… There’s so many station names and train lines with Chiba in them. The bar was too high for a Chiba beginner.
Whether you’re a resident of Chiba prefecture or Chiba city, “going to Chiba” almost certainly indicates going to Chiba Station, but maybe it’s hard for people of other regions to get the hint. If someone from Hokkaido says I’m going to Hokkaido, I’m sure everyone else would wonder what they’re on, and if a Tokyoite says I’m going to Tokyo, you kinda get the feeling they’re heading out to follow their dreams and make it big.
I was right to wait for her here, since she’d told me to meet at the station. I was stepping in place to ward off the cold as I waited, when I discovered Isshiki among the crowds.
Her beige coat was tightly closed in front, and she wore a fur scarf. Her pleated skirt was short, but she was wearing boots, so she didn’t look cold. Her heels were a little on the tall side and clicked as she walked.
When she noticed me, she trotted my way, tightening her scarf and fiddling with her bangs, then took a breath and flashed her face up toward me. “Sorry for making you wait. I had to get ready…”
“Took you long enough.” Irohasu, you’re so laaaate.
Isshiki’s response to my complaint was huffy sulking. “I think this is the part where you say, ‘I just got here’… I mean, since we’re about to go on a date.”
“…A date?”
There’s a word I’m not used to hearing…
I think a date is a ceremony where you make a raging spirit all lovey-dovey ushy-gushy and stuff to pacify its wrath… And then at the end, there’s a battle! I think. No, wait, scratch that last one. If you just think about it like a normal person, a date is that thing where a guy and girl go hang out together.
But then why would I suddenly be hanging out with Isshiki…?
I must have been an open book, as Isshiki put a hand to her waist as if to say, Good grief. She let out a little sigh. “I tooold you to come up with a plan for this date, didn’t I?”
“…Ohhh.” Now that she mentions it, she did say something about that last month. I guess she was actually serious?
I seemed to recall giving her some noncommittal response like I’ll think about it. How careless! I can’t believe she got that pledge out of me!
“If that’s the case, I wish you’d just tell me from the start. I need to do stuff to get ready for these things…you know?”
For example, I could have squeezed in some other plans so I could refuse, or never decided on a day and put it off for the rest of my life, or gotten a stomachache on the day of. There were a number of things I could have done. Well, I got the feeling that the end result would be the same even if she had told me ahead of time. And do you always feel like canceling on the day of an event, even when you’ve been looking forward to it?
Isshiki was unfazed by my vehement arguments and attempts to resist, and her attitude remained the same. “I mean, if I had invited you out normally, you wouldn’t come.”
“…Well, that’s true.” She’s good. If she understood me to that degree, she could pass about level 3 of the Hikigaya Certification Exam.
Regardless, it was due to my own shortcoming that she’d managed to get a commitment out of me. Even if I made excuses for myself now, nothing would let us part ways on the spot. I had brought about this situation by not thinking critically and replying recklessly. It was fair to say it would be irresponsible to abandon this now.
The optimal plan would be to get this over with as quickly as possible and go home.
“Let’s go,” I said.
“Yep, let’s.” Isshiki nodded, then finally smiled at me.
“So where are we going?”
As soon as I said that, Isshiki frowned. Letting out a deep, deep sigh, she pouted grumpily. “Aghh… Is that my responsibility now…? I thought you’d think that stuff up for me …”
“When I’m out on my own, I get excited to map out my day, but when I’m with someone else, my MO is to follow their lead.”
“Whatever… Let’s think about it as we walk! It’s cold here.” Isshiki’s shoulders drooped in resignation, but then she immediately fixed up her scarf as if energizing herself again and set off, heels clicking.
Mm-hmm, looks like Irohasu has gotten used to the way I do things.
By the way, which of us was just made to wait out here in the cold, huh…?
We headed down the long street that led from the station to the central downtown area.
This was the part of Chiba you could call the main street, lined with restaurants, entertainment businesses, and commercial buildings, and on the weekends, there were a lot of people strolling along the sidewalk. Students often stopped by here on weekday evenings, too, so I was familiar with the area.
If we continued ahead, we’d reach an area I often frequented with a movie theater, a bookstore, and an arcade. Turn left ahead, and there was a PARCO department store. If you’re going to hang around the Chiba area, this was the street to visit. It seemed a lot of people were on the same wavelength, because it had heavy foot traffic, as usual.
Though I was used to wandering this street, having a girl next to me made it an unfamiliar and confusing experience. I suppose walking side by side would be the natural thing to do, but my feet couldn’t help but rush, and if I didn’t make a conscious effort, I’d find myself leaving her behind. Blowing out a shallow breath to calm my nerves, and keeping in mind to go slower than my usual pace, I walked about half a step ahead of Isshiki.
As we made our way along, avoiding the passersby, her footsteps sped up to pull alongside me. She leaned forward slightly to look up at me. “Hey, what sort of places do you go to normally?”
“Home.”
“Try again.”
“O-okay…”
Isshiki’s tone was quite a bit sharper than usual as she shot me a withering look.
Iroha-chan, you’re freaking me out…! Intimidated by how quiet she was, I cleared my throat and offered a new answer. “The library or a bookstore, I guess. They let me kill time, and they’re just fun.”
“A library date…,” she muttered with a tilt of her head, looking up at the sky. She seemed to be considering for a while, but her head quickly lowered again in apology. “Sorry, but I associate that more intellectual stuff with Hayama. I wanted something crappier from you.”
Harumph, this brat… Look at my grades. I can be the intellectual type, you know? Well, I don’t want to go to the library with Isshiki, either, so whatever.
I was already a little nervous, so if I went someplace quiet with her, I seriously didn’t think I could keep it together. I thought I’d wind up feeling like a dad who wants to take it easy over the weekend but ends up having to watch his whining kids. And on the topic of the library, if I went to one with Hayama, I felt like I would be able to calmly read a book. Uh-oh! Here I am, imagining going on a library date with Hayama! Yeeeek! If Ebina could read my thoughts, it’d be a disaster! No, but actually.
I didn’t really care too much about Hayama, so for the time being, let’s chase him out from that corner of my mind forever.
Racking my brain, I wondered what other places would be socially acceptable for hanging out.
“Karaoke, darts, billiards, bowling, Ping-Pong… You could go to a batting cage, but there isn’t one around the Chiba Station area…” Anything pique your interest? I asked her with a look.
Isshiki looked very serious. “I know this doesn’t matter, but billiards doesn’t suit you.”
“Leave me alone.”
“Oh, but Ping-Pong would!”
“That doesn’t make me feel better…”
Like, there was something malicious in the way she said that… Ping-Pong is super-cool. Haven’t you heard of Matsumoto’s Ping Pong? The manga and the anime were real cool.
While we were talking, we arrived at the big five-way intersection and stopped at the light. Turn left from here, and that goes toward the PARCO. If you go straight ahead, you’ll hit the movie theater. There’s nothing of note if you turn right, so it would be one of the first two.
“…Anyway, is a movie okay? We can kill two hours,” I suggested.
“Why are you assuming we’re killing time…? Well, I’ll leave it to you…”
“Then a movie it is.”
Despite Isshiki’s grumbling, she’d given me the okay, so I stepped toward the movie theater.
Being that it was a weekend, it was doing good business.
As I browsed the screenings and checked the available seats, Isshiki pointed to a poster for a Hollywood blockbuster. The huge tagline said it was an Academy Award–nominated movie. “I want to see this one.”
“Okay. And I’ll go see this one.” My movie of choice had no relation to any Academy Awards. The screening time for both films was about the same. It didn’t seem like one of us would have to wait too long for the other movie to finish.
“All we have to do is decide on a meeting spot,” I said. “Is the Starbucks on the floor below okay?”
By nature, I’m not in the habit of watching movies with others, so I thought I was making the obvious choice. In fact, I thought I was being considerate by taking the running times into account, so then whyever would Iroha-chan be staring at me with her mouth hanging open?
“…Huh? What?” I asked.
Isshiki nodded to herself as if it all made sense to her now. “I seeee. This behavior is the cause of everything, huhhh?”
Not sure what conclusions she’s drawing, but I’m just honored she understands me!
Isshiki let out a short sigh of exasperation and looked away from the screen with the previews. And then, she fixed her eyes on one point.
Following her gaze, I saw the sign of a bowling alley. Below it was something mentioning Ping-Pong tables.
After considering that sign, Isshiki spun back around to face me. “Actually, why don’t we drop the movie and play Ping-Pong?”
“Works for me, but won’t you have trouble in those shoes?” I asked, looking at Isshiki’s boots, and she stopped on the spot, examined her own feet, then glanced up at my face.
When she stared at me with her slack jaw and dumb expression, her innocence reminded me that she was younger than me.
She seemed like she wanted to say something.
“Wh-what?” I asked.
“Nothing… I’m just surprised you noticed…”
“Your eye level was higher than usual. I could tell that much.”
Isshiki took one step toward me as if to expressly check that, facing me. When I took a step back, her eyebrows knitted, and she came another step closer. That seemed to imply that I shouldn’t move. I leaned back slightly, and she peered up at me. Then her full lips split into a grin. “Oh, you’re right. You’re closer than usual,” she observed eloquently.
Our faces were far closer than normal, and it made me realize just how glossy her lips were as she smiled, and I couldn’t stop myself from gulping.
When I failed to speak, even she must have felt flustered by the closeness, as her cheeks went pink, and she averted her eyes. She timidly peeked back at me, putting on a bashful act.
“…Well, you can rent shoes, I guess.” I looked away from her, striding toward the bowling alley.
“Right.” Isshiki scampered after me.
This girl can be so manipulative…
Even so, the worst part was that she was still cute.
Her face was, in fact, cute. Though her gestures were calculated, they were still adorable. And when it came to her personality, even though I feel like there were some defects, you could call it cute how she tried to weaponize her cuteness.
Man. The hell. She is cute. It wouldn’t even be weird if she introduced herself as the school idol!! Iroha-chaaan! …No, I take that back. That would be weird.
However, neither her cunning nor her cuteness was directed at me—they were aimed past me, at Hayato Hayama, and that was what enabled me to maintain a certain level of cool. If I’d had to deal with this back in my pure and innocent phase, I’d have been knocked out in one shot, y’all…
Deliberately putting on a pseudo-Kansai accent brought me face-to-face with my identity as a Chibanese. Reaffirming my love for my hometown, as well as my own standpoint, calmed me down. That was close—if not for my love for Chiba, I’d have been utterly defeated by Irohasu’s wiles. Thanks, Chiba. I heart Chiba.
As I collected myself, I recalled my goal for the day. I’d been assigned the task of coming up with a date plan for her and Hayama.
I turned back to check with Isshiki as we left the station mall hallway and the bowling alley came into view.
“But, like, does Hayama even play Ping-Pong? Wouldn’t some fancy-schmancy sort of place be better?”
“That’s what makes this gooood! If we just go to his usual haunts, that wouldn’t set me apart from other girls, riiight?”
“I see…” Now that she pointed it out, yeah. Miura, who Isshiki would see as her current rival, probably wouldn’t invite Hayama to Ping-Pong. In that sense, Isshiki would be setting herself apart…though who knows if that was negative or positive. And Hayama doesn’t seem like the type to see any difference in the first place…
Well, this is to help my cute junior. Guess I’ll give it my best shot.
The bowling alley wasn’t far from the movie theater. We paid at the front, then headed to the Ping-Pong table in the corner. At the leather sofa off to the side, I changed my shoes. Sitting beside me, Isshiki removed her coat as well and began changing her shoes.
The pink knit sweater under her coat emphasized the girlish lines of her body, which was slender and modest, and her high skirt showed off the nip of her waist. When she violently yanked off her boots, I could tell how shapely her calves were even through her tights.
There was a sort of lingering childishness to her gestures, and I couldn’t help but watch—and then our eyes met, and Isshiki tilted her head as if to ask if something was up. Of course I couldn’t say that I’d been captivated by the mismatch between her charm and innocent body language, so with a little shake of my head, I wordlessly offered her a paddle.
Isshiki bobbed her head and accepted it, then fanned herself with it as she stood in front of the Ping-Pong table. “I haven’t played this game since middle school gym class.”
“When you’re in your second year, you can opt into it.”
I stood in front of Isshiki with the table between us. She rolled up the sleeves of her sweater and pointed her paddle at me. And then she gave me the kind of bold grin that made me feel uncomfortable… Guess there’s two sweaters in here now!
“All right,” she said, “how about we say that if I win, you treat me to lunch?”
“We’re betting lunch? Sure, I guess…,” I answered, tossing the Ping-Pong ball over to Isshiki. If we were going to be having a match anyway, then a wager would add a bit of excitement to it.
The Ping-Pong ball bounced on the table with its characteristic hollow pok, and then she snatched it up and raised her paddle. “Then it’s settled! …My serve fiiirst! Hyah,” she called out lazily. There was a badonk as the ball hopped weakly toward me.
“Hup.” I tapped the ball back, not hitting it any harder than necessary. It fell perfectly in front of Isshiki, bouncing just to the right height.
“Tah.” She returned the ball.
The Ping-Pong ball went back and forth awhile. Badunk, badonk.
The sound really took me back. When my family had gone to hot springs in the past, I’d often played with Komachi. That had gotten me good at cooperating with your opponent to keep a rally going. I’d mastered it with Mario Kart and Puyo Puyo, too. I mean, since Komachi can be a sore loser…
Just like when I played against Komachi, I continued to hit the ball back into spots that would be as easy for Isshiki to return.
“Tah.”
“Hup.”
We called out lethargically as the Ping-Pong ball bounced across the table. It seemed that one of my 108 Big Brother Skills, “Entertaining the Little Sister,” had not gotten rusty.
Though Isshiki’s returns started off timid, she gradually picked up speed. Right as I was starting to enjoy this, I saw a suspicious flash in her eye.
As the ball boinged upward, she locked in on it, then took a step forward, and with a big windup, she swung hard. “DIIIE!”
“Uh, that was weird…”
The ball Isshiki had struck flew in a big arc, disappearing with a twinkle into the distance. For some reason, Irohasu was triumphantly saying “How about that?!” with a satisfied smile… Table tennis does not have home runs.
I went to go pick up the ball and restart from my serve, but then due to a stupid slipup of mine, it was Isshiki’s turn to serve again.
“My serve then, huh?”
Ponk, ponk went the ball as she bounced it on the table, preparing to serve. That was when she seemed to realize something, looking all around and then popping up a hand to call for a time-out. “Ah, hold on for a sec— HYAH!” She abandoned her call to stop and then suddenly launched it at me with full power.
Don’t think I can’t see through your little act. I calmly circled around in front of the ball and fired back with an unreturnable strike in the opposite direction of her step inward. “…Nice try.”
When I was younger, my dad had gotten me with the same techniques every time we played Ping-Pong. As revenge, I’d subjected Komachi to them a handful of times, and she’d really hated me for it! You can’t underestimate the badness genes of the Hikigaya family line! Little Komachi had burst into tears and gone, I’m never playing Ping-Pong with you ever again, Bro! which was too cute…
Komachi had still been small then, so she had really cried her eyes out. But looking over at my current partner, wondering how it would be for grown-up Irohasu, I saw her clenching her teeth in frustration over the failure of her ploy.
“Ngh…”
“If you’re gonna use moves like that, then I’ll have to kick it into high gear…,” I warned, flinging off my jacket. And with a squeak of rubber against the floor, I adopted a stance like a Ping-Pong pro.
With a swing of her paddle, Isshiki protested, “H-hey! You’re being childish!”
“Says you… Whatever, let’s go. My serve.”
This was nothing like my earlier cooperative act. I’d been holding back. This time, I smashed the ball with full force, aiming for the corner of the Ping-Pong table. For someone who had been whining and griping about it, Isshiki sure seemed to be into this, as a short grunt slipped out of her as she scrambled for the ball.
“Hrya!” When her paddle whiffed through empty air, the added momentum made Isshiki’s skirt flutter.
Oh, crap. Now that I think about it, she’s in a skirt… I should avoid hitting back so fast…
After that, I decided to dial it back a bit, hitting on the light side, but now that I was aware of it, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and my gaze kept being drawn down like gravity. I couldn’t stop glancing at the flapping of Isshiki’s skirt.
Ngh! Unfair!
Just what was so unfair? The table was in the way, and I couldn’t see anything! The hell, something was seriously wrong with this sport!! …Oh, I know, if they invented a Ping-Pong table that was made of transparent I-can-see-right-through-you material, it’d even turn into a fad. Actually, I should invent it and get rich quick.
Maybe it was because I was entertaining stupid thoughts or I was hypnotized by her skirt, but my paddle kept slicing through air, and Isshiki kept racking up points.
She let out a breath and pulled a mini towel from her bag to daintily dab at her sweat before she started to count off on her fingers. “Ummm, you have eight points now, and my score is one, two, three, four… Oh, what time is it right now?”
I felt like I’d heard this one before, but I obliged, looking over at the clock on the wall. “Eleven.”
“Eleven. Is that right? Oh, right. My score. Twelve, thirteen.”
“Start at six. Six points.”
That’s some really blatant Toki Soba there. Just how much is this girl going to fudge the numbers? Well, she’s a woman of culture, knowing classic rakugo.
When I pointed this out, Isshiki gave me a sulky pout, but it was ineffective.
“C’mon, let’s go,” I called out, firing off a serve that was on the more relaxed side. Though I was holding back on speed, I aimed for a difficult spot on the table. Isshiki pattered over, but the ball mercilessly bounced away, loudly projecting off the corner.
After watching it go, Isshiki turned back to me with a bright smile. “Ah, that was out, so that’s my point, huh?”
“If it were out, then it wouldn’t bounce or make a sound…”
How can she lie through her teeth…?
And haven’t you been pulling some unfair moves? Like…I think your skirt puts me at a disadvantage!
After that, I scored most of the points, occasionally getting distracted by her skirt and making more mistakes, until finally, the game came to a close.
If we’re just talking results, then it was a crushing win for me.
The game over, the two of us fwumped down on the nearby sofa. It had been such a long time since I’d played Ping-Pong, and I was almost panting.
Isshiki, on the other hand, was stricken by the shock of her loss and sat with slumped shoulders, crestfallen. …You still have a long way to go!
“…Can we agree I won?” I confirmed.
Isshiki reluctantly nodded. “Oh well… We can call it my loss, this time…” Despite having pulled so many dirty moves, she acknowledged her loss with unexpected honesty. If this had been a certain other sore loser, then she almost certainly would have played until she won.
I’m not the type to fixate on competitions, but it doesn’t feel bad to win. A nasty smirk grew on my face despite myself, but when I looked at Isshiki, I couldn’t bring myself to laugh in her face.
I cleared my throat to get the chuckle under control. “Thanks for lunch.” I tried to keep it light.
Isshiki was still hanging her head, and her shoulders trembled slightly. …H-huh? I didn’t make Irohasu cry, did I? Ah, ah, wh-what do I do…?
As I was getting panicked and flustered, I heard a low chuckle from beside me. “…Heh-heh-heh.”
Looking over, I saw Isshiki raise her head, an intrepid smile on her face.
“Huh, what? What is it?”
She put a hand on her waist, and with a triumphant expression, she pointed at me. “I did say that if I win, then you would treat me, but I never said I’d treat you if you won.”
What is she talking about…? I thought, giving her a dubious look. But then I remembered before our game. …Huhhh?
“……You’re right.”
Isshiki had only set out a condition for her own victory… She’s good. This has been an educational experience… I’ll use this on Komachi the next time we have a competition over something. Thinking about finally earning Komachi’s disgust again, I couldn’t restrain the pounding of my heart…
Anyway, this Irohasu—she really was terrible in both word and deed. “Well, I never really expected you to treat me to begin with, but isn’t this kind of sneaky…?” I asked, a little sharply.
Isshiki was about as unconcerned as you could get. In fact, she only smiled gently back at me. She lightly laid a hand on her chest, leaning over just a tad to peer at my face. Her eyes seemed to be teasing me. “Aren’t girls supposed to be a little sneaky?”
“Well, all right…” I was exasperated, but I couldn’t really argue.
I think it was Mother Goose or something that had that rhyme about girls being made of sugar and spice and everything nice.
It was true. Though I get the feeling Isshiki got a bit too much spice.
“…Whatever. That argument won’t work on all boys, okay? Especially when pulling stuff like today.”
There were people out there who were serious about games, who would get legitimately angry when they lost at Millionaire, and who were the target of all the jokes.
Well, guys like Hayama and Tobe would lighten up the vibe, and with Isshiki’s looks and communication skills, I think she’d be forgiven in most cases. I mean, even I’m forgiving her, after all!
It seemed Isshiki figured out what I was trying to say, and her expression suddenly turned meek. She waved her hands rapidly as if to say there was no way. “No, no, no, of course, there’s no way I’d do that in front of Hayama! What if he hated me for it?!”
“…Well, I think he’d like you more if you did.”
“For real? Where’d you get that info, huh?!”
“No particular source.”
Isshiki suddenly leaned forward enthusiastically, so I shifted a proportionate distance to the side. When I did, Isshiki approached no further, folding her arms as she began to consider. “Hmm… An uncertain source won’t count as evidence… It doesn’t seem I can execute that plan yet.”
“It’s not like you have to rush things. Right now, he—,” I began, when Isshiki, who had been gradually inching toward me, cut me off.
“So then for now…” She paused there before moving her lips close to my ear, softly and secretively, and then adding one more thing—
A pinch of spice all rolled up in sugar.
“…I only do this sort of thing to you.”
“I’m just gonna take that to mean you don’t care if I hate you…,” I muttered, leaning away from her, and Isshiki giggled.
No matter how much sugar you sprinkled on it, a habanero is a habanero. And even if you drizzled syrup on it, Tabasco is Tabasco.
It doesn’t come together without that “everything nice.”
A certain amount of exercise is guaranteed to make you hungry.
When we left the bowling alley, Isshiki, walking beside me, came to tap-tap on my shoulder. “Heeey, aren’t you hungryyy?”
“Hmm, yeah. You wanna get something?” I turned around to answer.
“Yeah.” She flashed me a smile, but she didn’t offer anything more.
Wait, is this what I think it is? Do I have to ask? The question…
I steeled myself, then said with great trepidation, “…What do you wanna eat?”
“I don’t care.”
I—I knew it! She’s one of those people who claims she doesn’t care when you’re trying to pick somewhere to eat!
I’ve heard rumors on the wind that girls of society measure the quality of a boy based on his suggestion. The boy is put on trial… But I will say this:
The secret to success may be the awareness that just as a boy is tested by a girl, we are also in the position of testing a girl.
And I will offer you these words:
“When you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.”
—Nietzsche
Whoops, seeing that The Best or Bust! Kenken’s Journal to Get That Top-Class Publishing Job Offer! the other day got me all pretentious for a second there… Gotta pull myself together and face reality.
Not so long ago, Isshiki’s question would have made me dissolve into anger and go Super Saiyan, but my recent experiences had turned me into an adult.
“How about pasta? Or arrabbiata? Or tagliata?”
“Why are all those pasta…?”
“Tagliata isn’t pasta.” It’s a dish of sliced beef.
My manner of speaking must have irritated her, as her eyebrows twitched for a second. I could count on her to maintain that smile.
Even if she was smiling on the surface, it seemed in the depths of her heart, she was annoyed. In a soft but sharp voice, she muttered, “…I’ve always known you were a terrible person.”
“Right back atcha.”
Isshiki put her index finger to her jaw and did this cute tilt of her head as if to say she had no clue. “But everyone always says I’m so charming?”
Her ability to say that with such a nonchalant look spoke to a strong heart. Yeah, she’s a real charmer all right. If we’re just talking mental fortitude, she’s stronger than the Japan National rugby team…
As we strolled along, I considered our options. “If you’re fine with anything, then…Saize.”
Isshiki shook her head no. I thought you were fine with anything… It seemed I’d have to come up with an answer that intuited her desires somewhat.
So began Quiz! Guess Irohasu’s Lunch! Now I would have to bring up a string of contenders that seemed like they would satisfy Isshiki.
“Then we could go with Jolly-Pasta.”
Isshiki turned her face away as if to say, Non.
Wrong answer, huh…? “Ngh, fine, I’ll compromise and go with Kabe no Ana.”
She tilted her head as if to say, Pardon?
Nghhh, is there any other pasta restaurant…? “W-would Capricciosa be okay?”
Finally, Isshiki sighed. It seemed my time was up. I got no answers correct in Quiz! Guess Irohasu’s Lunch! and scored zero points. “Those were all totally pasta related… I’m fine with wherever you want to go.”
“For real? You’re okay if it’s not pasta or avocado?”
“Seriously, what do you take me for…?” Isshiki glared at me.
I mean, girls liked pasta and avocado… Also shrimp. Or that’s the impression I get. I bet they would love a Cobb pasta salad, which would have both avocado and pasta. Best thing since sliced bread, right?
Though she was saying she was fine with the restaurant of my choosing, she’d just rejected Saize. So just in case, I made sure to check one more time. “You’re really okay with that? You’re not trying to test me?” I asked.
She looked away, gazing contemplatively at nothing. “Well, normally, I would be doing that now, but…”
So she does normally do that… Irohasu can be scary.
“But today I’m fine with your choice.”
…That’s a relief. I mean, the only other pasta place I know would just be Tapas Tapas, though there isn’t one close to Chiba Station.
I guess I should take her to one of my usual spots.
But of course, a mere high schooler wouldn’t have much in the way of regular spots, so that automatically narrowed down my contenders. You would expect family restaurants and cafés to be really crowded around this time on weekends. Then again, it wasn’t like I knew anything about fancy-schmancy or high-class restaurants.
If I were to borrow what Isshiki had said that day: She was expecting something crappy from me.
That left one answer.
“Okay, then I guess we’ll go there…,” I said, walking one step ahead of Isshiki to show the way. I headed off for the center of Chiba.
At Chiba Station, there are food establishments clustered in the malls like Sogo, PARCO, and C-one and on the main streets, but there were more businesses on the road that’s nicknamed Nanpa Street, as well as the narrow alley that runs parallel to it.
In fact, when you get to be a Chibanese of my level, you make the deliberate choice to go down that alley for holes-in-the-wall. Normally, I’d try to discover someplace new, but on that day, I had company. It was probably best to select a more popular location.
When we went out onto the street, the orange sign of the restaurant came into view. Underneath the sign were stairs that went down into the basement. The underground-hideout sort of vibe made Isshiki’s eyes sparkle. “Knowing about good spots scores lots of points, you know!” Tugging at my sleeve, she clearly had high hopes.
So we arrived at one of the biggest Chiba ramen shops: Naritake. It’s currently expanded not only to Tokyo, but also Nagoya. By the way, they’ve also opened a branch in Paris, France, where it’s called Paritake (by me).
“…Agh, ramen?” As Isshiki gazed into the restaurant through the glass, her excitement visibly diminished. After all her tugging, she dropped my sleeve, too, and was now just standing there.
“Uh, I mean you said what I always have…”
“Agh, well, should have expected that from you,” she said as if resigned, letting out a big sigh.
O-okay… It’s true it’s nothing fancy, but I didn’t think this was something to be that disappointed about…
Based on my experience, I’d assumed girls liked ramen, too. Source: Miss Hiratsuka. Whoa, that’s a real unreliable source. For starters, it would be crazy to count her as a “girl.” How is it crazy, you ask? It just is.
Miss Hiratsuka would be ready and willing to have Naritake, if it would only nari-take her. But then conversely, as far as I knew, only Miss Hiratsuka would be like that.
To look at it another way here, this was a chance to get Isshiki into Naritake. As ancient generations once said: “A crisis is a crisis, and an opportunity is also a crisis.” A crisis is only a crisis, and just when you think it’s an opportunity, the rug is ready to get pulled out from under you. You have to stay sharp!
“If I could suggest you try it before making a judgment…” I suddenly started speaking deferentially to her without even thinking, trepidation coloring my voice.
Isshiki gave me a dead-eyed look but then nodded in resignation. “I was the one who said I’d leave it to you, so it’s fine…”
Really? Really? It would be nice if that would convince her…
I had gained Isshiki’s assent, reluctant though it was, and we went into the restaurant. Inside, someone energetically called out, “Hiya, ’elcome!”
Since it was lunchtime, the counter was mostly full, but fortunately, there were two seats open. I decided to go straight to the ticket machine to buy meal tickets. Isshiki’s gaze wandered over the buttons as she looked at all the lines of characters. It seemed she had trouble deciding.
“My recommendation is the shoyu ramen,” I said. “The miso is also good, but for your first time, it’s good to start with the basics, right?”
“All right.”
I bought a ticket for Isshiki and went to the counter. After I took a seat, the first thing out of my mouth was to say to the staff, “Extra.”
“Extra? What?” Isshiki, who sat down next to me, gave me a questioning look.
“The amount of fat. Oh, and go easy on hers.”
Naritake sold itself on back fat and strong flavors, so even if you ordered a regular, its flavor was more full-bodied compared with other ramen shops. I recommend a beginner start with the light.
“…You’re used to this.”
“I guess,” I replied with a little pride, assuming she was showing appreciation that I was a regular. But then no reaction followed.
Glancing over, I saw she was leaning slightly away from me, giving me a dull look.
Hmm, it seems Irohasu was not saying that out of admiration… We’re side-by-side at the counter, so whyever does she feel so distant…?
Hey, boys! Listen up! Boys speak proudly of their knowledge of “fancier” junk food like ramen and curry, but that apparently won’t charm girls! Watch out if you think that makes you seem cooler!
Isshiki and I didn’t particularly converse as we waited, so I was zoning out while looking at the kitchen ahead of me. “…The ’elcome guy is here today. We’re lucky.”
“Huh? What are you talking about?”
“Well, Naritake is generally good, but there’s some individuality in the flavor, and it comes out different depending on the chef and their shifts. So my favorite is the guy who greets customers with a Hiya, ’elcome.”
“…Um, being knowledgeable isn’t always a good thing,” Isshiki said wearily, and that was right when the ramen arrived.
The extra-fatty ramen was like the peak of Mount Fuji, gleaming under the lights, the rising steam warming the hearts of all who beheld it.
“Whoa, the heck? Is this for real?” Seeing the bowl, Isshiki cried out in shock.
Now was not the time to be paying attention to her. “Time to eat.” Following those solemn words, with chopsticks and ceramic spoon in hand, I ate, slurped, devoured, and drank it down. Its flavor was addictive.
Meanwhile, Isshiki seemed mildly put off as she watched me devote myself entirely to eating, but then she resolved herself with a little gulp and timidly picked up her chopsticks. She neatly brought her ceramic spoon to her mouth and closed her lips around it, and then her throat bobbed a little.
She froze. She was still like that for the briefest moment, but soon after, as if remembering herself, she roped in her noodles with her chopsticks and pursed her glossy lips, blew on her food, then began to eat carefully.
It seemed her impression was not a negative one. A little relieved by her reaction, I resumed my meal as well.
Neither of us said anything as we continued, and we were done eating before you knew it.
“…It’s frustrating to admit…,” she muttered. When I gave her a sidelong glance, Isshiki lifted her head and looked at me. Her expression seemed somehow vexed. She pouted her lips as she continued. “It was good…,” she confessed, then immediately jerked her face away.
A smile broke on my lips. “…Good to hear it.”
“Well, it might just score pretty high to get someone to take you to a restaurant that’s hard to go to with other girls.” Isshiki nodded to herself, and whoever she was trying to tell that to, she apparently convinced them all on her own.
I’m pleased to hear my selection was to your satisfaction.
Well, if you really thought about it, pasta and ramen were similar things, and in the sense of oil content, there’s not much difference between avocado and back fat, either.
Carbs are just the greatest, irrespective of gender.
Naritake really is god tier.
Guess it was time to go home, now that the meal was over!
…I would have said that out loud, but we were yet again trudging around Chiba city.
“Don’t you want to eat something sweet?” Isshiki said, making her next order sound like a question, and so now we were wandering in search of some kind of café.
“Around there, you knooow, there’s a place that seems pretty good!” she said, striding briskly on ahead. She went to a spot a little ways from the central downtown hub, a street with a calm atmosphere lined with a park, offices, and apartment buildings.
Passing in front of Chuo Station, we walked down a clean road that had been repaved relatively recently. Unlike on the more chaotic Nanpa Street, the buildings were neat.
Perhaps that was the reason the wind blowing through felt a little stronger.
The north wind was still cold, despite the sun.
The ramen had left both my stomach and heart in a warm and comfortable state, so it wasn’t like I was dying to go home right that minute. Still, I wasn’t very keen on a long march, either.
When I turned to Isshiki to ask if this would take any longer, she pointed ahead with a bright smile.
“There. That one.”
Glancing in the direction she was pointing, I saw a rather chic-looking café.
With its wood-paneled exterior, broad windows to let in natural light, big parasol on the terrace, and a menu written in chalk on the blackboard that sat on the frontage, it was the definition of fancy-schmancy. Come on, is this for real? This is Chiba. Are we even allowed to have fancy cafés?
How about it? This is fine, right? We’re going in, right? It wouldn’t make sense not to go, right? Isshiki was saying without words as she tugged on my scarf.
Listen, this isn’t a leash, okay? “Well, this’ll work, I guess.”
I mean, it was cold, and anywhere was fine by me. This was the kind of place I’d never go if I’d been alone, but since Isshiki was with me that day, I’d probably be forgiven for darkening their doorstep.
“Okay then, let’s g… Ohhh, shoot.” Isshiki froze on the spot.
“What? What is it?”
With a yank on my sleeve, she brought me to a stop. Uhhh, these aren’t reins…
Looking panicked, she circled behind me. Sneakily poking her head out from behind my back, she pointed at the storefront. “Look over there.”
“Hmm?”
When I did as instructed, a couple came out of the café: a slightly timid-looking girl with braided pigtails and glasses, and a normal boy you’d see anywhere, with no particularly special characteristics… The two of them left the shop, then kept walking in the opposite direction from us.
“Huh.” Watching them go, arms folded, I considered. Hmm…I’ve seen them somewhere before… Who were they, again?
A murmur came from behind me. “That’s the vice president and the secretary.”
…Ohhh, yeah. I should know them.
Hey, wait. Why were the two of them coming out of that café together?
“What, are those two dating?” I asked Isshiki.
Hopping away from my back, she cocked her head. “I dunno? I don’t think so? I mean, assuming they’re dating just because they’re hanging out is a little close-mi—” Isshiki froze, then violently whipped back toward me. “Ah! Wait, were you just hitting on me? It’s pretty shameless to act like you’re my boyfriend when we’ve just hung out once so could you wait until we’ve at least gone out a bunch of times. I’m sorry.” She shoved her hands out in front of her as if putting distance between us, then said that all in a rush. She rattled it off so fast, when she was done, she had to take a deep breath.
“…Yeah, sure, whatever you want.” I don’t even want to bother asking why she’s interpreting it like that… It was getting ridiculous, counting the total number of times she had rejected me…
“Let’s just go in. It’s cold outside,” I said to her, heading into the shop, and she pattered after me.
“Ah, wait uuup!”
Being that this was a classier brand of café, it was pretty nice on the inside, too. The tables and chairs seemed to have been carefully selected, and each set had a different style. The walls and the shelving were decorated with cute ornaments—it was the sort of interior that seemed like it would win over women.
We were shown to the right side from the entrance, with sofa seating that was fairly standard, compared with the other stuff in here. The light of the sun poured in from the street-facing window.
Isshiki, seated opposite me, immediately opened her menu. “Aghhh, man. It’s so hard to decide, huh?” Despite the interrogative intonation, it seemed she didn’t particularly expect a response from me, as she flipped through the menu at her own convenience
Emphasizing a love for sweets to play up her girlish act—impressively cunning, Irohasu. Very impressive. But, well, I’m sure there are plenty of girls who just like sweets, not as a ploy. There’s a cookie monster in the clubroom who’s always eating snacks, after all… Though lately she’s also been eating a lot of crackers and stuff, too.
As Isshiki waffled over her choices, I zoned out watching her, and when she noticed my gaze, she spun the menu around to me.
Huhhh, they’ve got a lot of stuff… Macarons and roll cake, cheesecake, crème brûlée…and gelato and sorbet, eh? What is the difference between gelato and sorbet? Is this like asking about different members of the Shoufukutei rakugo school?
As I was thinking these trivial thoughts, comparing the text with the photos, Isshiki’s head jerked up from her menu. “I’ve made up my mind.”
“Okay. Then I’ll call the server.”
When I did, Isshiki pointed to her menu and ordered, “Assam tea and the macaron sandwich, please.”
“And your house blend…and gelato.”
Once we placed our orders, it was peaceful for a few moments.
The faint bossa nova–style background music, the warm air of the café, and the soft sunlight of the early afternoon created a unique atmosphere. The voices of the other customers were somehow distant and muffled, like sounds filtering through underwater.
That drew my attention just that much more to the person before me.
Isshiki seemed used to coming to this place, incredibly relaxed as she sank deep into the sofa. Leaning her cheek on her hand, elbow on the armrest, she turned her face to the window. She must have been looking forward to the macaron sandwich, as she was humming softly.
While listening to her quiet song, I gazed at the scenery out the window. Outside was the familiar city of Chiba, but seen through the single pane of glass of this stylish café, it seemed more dreamy than usual. Perhaps a café has the magic to give you these delusions.
Or did Isshiki come here because that was what she liked about it? Though she wasn’t the only customer come to visit.
“Do you come here with the student council?” I asked, remembering the pair we had just seen, and Isshiki’s head jerked toward me. She shook her head.
Then she suddenly clapped and put a hand to her chin as she considered a moment. “Ohhh, you mean the vice president and the secretary? Mayyybe this place did come up in conversation last week.”
“Huhhh.” So then we just happened to run into each other, huh?
Or maybe Mr. Vice President had taken this opportunity to ask Miss Secretary out, saying something like, Why don’t we check out that café Isshiki was talking about? Eugh, cringe!! What the heck are they doing in that student council room? Stop screwing around and work.
…No, wait. Maybe it wasn’t the vice president making the invitation. If that timid-looking secretary mustered up her courage to ask him out, then that would kind of make me want to cheer her on! Though it doesn’t particularly make me want to root for him! I feel like in my head, the vice president went into the same category as Tobe. In the sense that he’s yet another victim of Iroha Isshiki.
As I pondered these matters, the perpetrator in question, Iroha Isshiki, was continuing to talk. “So, like, I was asking the vice president things like where do you hang out on weekends and stuff. For today. For today!” she said, as if emphasizing that last part, and then looked up through her lashes at me.
Did she just say that twice because it was important? This girl… That sort of blatant call to attention is not worth a lot of points, in Hachiman terms.
“I appreciate the sentiment, but I’d rather you prepared in more fundamental areas…” You know, like asking if I want to go first, or actually explaining to me why you wanted to hang out at all. There were lots of things you should have done…
It seemed Isshiki meant to ignore my complaints, blatantly averting her eyes as she hemmed and hawed under her breath, changing the subject. “Well, I honestly wasn’t expecting to nearly bump into them here…”
She trailed off, then brought her gaze to the front again, fixing her eyes straight on me. And then—as if she didn’t want anyone around to hear—she cupped a hand by her mouth with a bashful smile and whispered conspiratorially. “Next time, let’s pick some place where there aren’t so many people we know.”
“Is there gonna be a next time…?”
My voice had gone dry from surprise and imagining this “next time” that would be brutal.
Isshiki glared at me. “Why are you acting so reluctant?”
“It’s not like I don’t want to go… Well, um, you know, I’ll be sure to take appropriate measures to ensure the matter is dealt with.”
“From that answer, it doesn’t feel like it’ll actually ever happen…” Isshiki sighed, then looked at me with a slight twist of a smile, exasperated. “Oh!” she exclaimed with a sparkle of excitement in her eyes. When I turned around to see where she was looking—in other words, behind me—right at that moment, the server was bringing over her macaron sandwich and tea.
Her order, followed by my gelato and coffee, was placed neatly on the table. Isshiki watched it ecstatically before pulling out her phone and beginning to snap photos. For some reason, she was even taking shots of my gelato, not just her own cake.
Why is it that girls take pictures of food? Is it a food diary thing? Or is some trainer at a RIZAP gym telling them to send photos of their meals?
Satisfied with her pictures, Isshiki put down her phone. Now we can finally eat, I thought.
Isshiki’s hand shot up. “Oh! Pardooon! Can I ask you to take a picture?” she called, and a server popped up and respectfully accepted the phone from Isshiki.
More pictures? Just how long is she going to make me wait?! I’m eating my ice cream! I thought, picking up my spoon, when she smacked my hand down.
Looking over, I saw her leaning slightly forward over the table, making a perfect posed expression toward the server holding up the phone. “Come on! Give me a peace sign!”
“No. You don’t need me in your picture. And my ice cream is gonna melt.”
“It won’t melt that fast. C’mon, hurry,” Isshiki retorted quickly without turning toward me. It seemed she couldn’t maintain that pose for very long. Her cutesy mask was slipping a little, too.
“Um, sir…” The server was giving me this uncomfortable smile as if trying to see what to do. It made me feel not only uncomfortable, but pressured, too.
S-sorry for bothering you while you’re working…
“Come on. Come on.”
With Isshiki urging me, I had no choice but to slide my plate off to the side and lean over the table.
“If you could go a little closer in…,” instructed the server, holding the camera, and I leaned forward a bit more.
Suddenly, I could smell shampoo. Sliding my eyes in that direction, I saw Isshiki’s soft-looking hair flowing down. Her face was shockingly close. Just as I was about to automatically jerk back, the server called, “Oh yes, that’s good. Say cheese!”
Then I heard the sound of a shutter click two, three times.
“Thank you sooo much!” Isshiki called out to the server.
Sinking deep into the sofa, I watched her accept the phone from the server. I never thought taking a photo could be so exhausting… Maybe there was some truth in the old saying that having your photo taken will steal your soul.
My sigh made the steam rising from my coffee cup vanish. I wanted to drink it before it got cold. “…Can I eat now?”
“Oh, yes. Go ahead,” Isshiki replied casually as she checked over the photos.
Aw man, I bet my face was all red, I thought. To cool my head, I went for the ice cream that I’d been forced to wait on.
…I knew it would melt.
By the time I paid for the food and left the café, it was already dark out. It seemed quite some time had passed as we sat there engaging in trivial conversation and enjoying the food.
A bit of a breeze had come with nightfall, and the chilly air was coming in through the gaps of my loosely wrapped scarf, making me shiver. When I tugged together the collar of my coat and tightened my scarf, Isshiki emerged from the café after me.
“Sorry to make you wait. I almost forgot to take the receipt.” She bopped herself on the head bashfully and stuck her tongue out, and I could almost hear her giggle, Tee-hee.
She knew what she was doing…
Why would she even need that receipt? I just paid for the both of us. And hey, she took the receipts from the Ping-Pong place and the food ticket from the ramen shop, too, huh…? Is she going to file them on her tax return or something?
“All right, then let’s just head for the station,” I said.
“Okay,” she replied, and when I nodded back at her, we started off, neither of us particularly leading the way.
Some people were headed toward the station, while others were just coming from it. The flow of traffic clashed, and the face of the city transformed to nighttime. It was the weekend, so the streets were busy.
It wasn’t that late, but a yawn slipped out of me anyway, maybe because of the Ping-Pong. It seemed the same was true for Isshiki, walking along the sidewalk beside me, and she caught my infectious yawn.
When she realized I’d seen her, she looked a little self-conscious. Then, clearing her throat as if to cover it, she came a half step closer to me. “Wellll, I guess I’ll give you ten points for today,” she declared out of the blue. It seemed this was my grade for that day’s Date Course Investigation Exam.
“Just out of curiosity, ten points out of what?”
“A hundred, duh.”
“Why’s my score so low…?”
I was trying, in my own way. Come on. Don’t you think that’s a little harsh? I complained with my eyes.
She began counting her fingers on her gloved hands. “Ummm… First of all, minus ten points for not being Hayama.”
“You’re asking the impossible right off the bat.”
What the heck? Who does she think she is? Princess Kaguya? And she’s grading me by subtracting points. Hachiman thinks adding points just might be better in order to encourage growth. Let’s develop our strengths!
Obviously, she couldn’t hear the screams of my heart. She lowered another finger on her left hand, and then another as she counted off. Please stop. Your fingers are lowering for now, but my heart will sink forever…
“And then minus forty points for your behavior in general?”
“Well, that’s fair.” I nodded automatically. In fact, I must have put in some real effort, if that was all that got deducted. Rather than me putting in a good effort, I should say that Isshiki had been the one making an effort here, in having forgiven it.
“At least you’re self-aware…” She sighed, her voice tinged with resignation.
Oh, so she hasn’t actually forgiven me, huh…?
Professor Isshiki’s scoring continued. Suddenly squeezing her right hand in a fist, she sent it straight into a light punch in my side. “And minus fifty points for being so eager to hang out with a girl when she invited you.”
“You’re the one who invited me… And wait, now it’s zero.” It didn’t hurt where she punched me, but mysteriously, I did feel a little stab to the heart. I just happened to remember someone that moment, and it weirdly stuck in my head.
As I rubbed my ribs, Isshiki hopped ahead one step, stuck up a finger, and puffed out her chest. “But I had fun, so I’ll give you an extra ten points.”
“…Well, thanks.”
So that gave me the total of ten points, huh? She was merciless with her scoring, but the last part was a little sweet. I would have given myself the same score.
We gradually drew near the station as we talked.
I was going on to the Sobu Line, while Isshiki would probably head home by monorail. So then we’d be parting ways here, in front of the station.
“How was it for you?” Isshiki asked me hesitantly as we approached the short staircase that lead to the roundabout. Her face was slightly downturned, so I couldn’t see her expression, and I couldn’t tell at a glance what she was asking about.
I doubted it was too different from what I’d been thinking about just now.
“Well, basically what you said… Though I’m a little tired.”
“Did you need to be that honest? …Whatever. It just means you put all your energy into having fun with me!” She lifted her head, a cutesy smile on her face. I couldn’t help but make a face at her customary slyness.
Seeing my reaction, Isshiki pouted. “Why are you acting like I’m a high-maintenance pain in the butt or something…?” She puffed up her cheeks, then pointed her nose in the air and strode off a little on the fast side. As she passed by me, she said in a sulky tone, “All girls are high-maintenance, you know.”
That made sense to me. With a little shrug, I hurried to catch up to her. “…Yeah, I’m sure. Everyone on the planet is annoying.”
“Including you! Geez!” Spinning around, Isshiki was giving me such a beleaguered look, it didn’t even compare to the one I’d given her just now. Ouch.
Perhaps our mutual beleaguered feelings slowed our pace a little. Regardless, the station concourse was just ahead. Threading through the throngs of people emerging from the turnstile, we arrived right in front of the same ad screens where we’d met up that day. Isshiki stopped. I halted in my tracks.
“Anyway, today has been educational. Thank you very much.” She thanked me with surprising honesty, then slowly bowed.
I was taken aback by the utter sincerity and politeness, and when I muttered something flustered like Uh-huh or Mm or No, thank you, she lifted her head and giggled like she found me funny. “…You be sure to put our research to good use, too, okay?”
Her gaze was overflowing with kindness, but there was just a bit of severity behind her words.
“…Sure. Well, uh, thanks for today, then.”
It was true that I’d learned a lot—through no fault of my own, though. Isshiki was a unique person, but I highly doubted my experience would be directly useful for anyone else. Because everyone is a special case for someone, and everyone is different.
“See you at school, then,” she said.
“Get home safe.”
We exchanged farewells, and then Isshiki headed to the stairs for the monorail platform. The escalator slowly rose, and she gradually drew away.
Suddenly, she spun back around to give me a little wave. I raised a casual hand in response, watching her as she grew distant.
Girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice.
Iroha Isshiki’s version of nice is sweet and spicy. And probably bitter and sour, too. And a real hassle, something you won’t know until you try coming into contact with it.
I’m sure it’s not unique to Isshiki—the other girls in my life would have it, too.
What is it, exactly?
Watching Iroha Isshiki go until she was out of sight, I wondered that, just a bit.
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