1
Once he’s aware that winter has begun, it has already passed.
It happened a little ways into February.
The winter was still biting cold, rattling and creaking the windows of the classroom with every gust of the dry north wind.
Once the end-of-day short homeroom was over, the cold would only get worse, by all appearances. My seat was close to the hallway side, so I was not chosen to be blessed by the heater, and the draft came in through the cracked-open door. The lick of cold flicking up my neck sent a shiver through me.
But when I looked to the window, the sun still maintained a fair height in the sky. The days were gradually getting longer.
It would soon be the first day of spring, by the lunar calendar. Of course it comes every year, but when it’s this cold, you think, Spring?! What the hell are you talking about? Man, the only place spring has sprung is inside your head.
But they also say, “If winter comes, can spring be far behind?”
And the mood of spring had been gradually building in the classroom after school.
According to the lunar calendar, the day of Keichitsu was less than a month away.
Maybe it was just because the heat was on, but the class was buzzing a little sooner than the calendar would indicate, just like bugs, frogs, and snakes waking from hibernation.
The heater was right by the window seats, so the lucky kids warmed by it were full of energy. That day, they could be heard talking loudly and drawing attention, as they always did.
“Man, I wanna eat something sweet!” Tobe said while mussing up the hair at the back of his neck.
Ooka and Yamato slapped their knees as if they’d just been thinking the same thing, and they pointed at him. “Yeah, man.”
“Totally, man.”
The three of them exchanged looks—glance, glance, glance, glance.
“It’s like…don’cha want somethin’ seasonal?” Tobe said with unnecessary gravity, and the three of them all looked at each other smugly and glance-glanced over at the girls.
…Hmm. I was thinking spring was close, but it seems we’re still in the middle of winter after all! Not even the crickets are awake.
But as cold as the weather was, Miura’s reaction was far colder.
“…Huh?” She clicked her tongue, then gave Tobe and the guys the kind of dull look that would make even these three stooges think twice about speaking again. Ebina and Yuigahama smiled awkwardly.
“Oh yeah, Valentine’s is coming up, huh…?” Hayama: ever the mediator.
Ooka and Yamato both nodded at him. “You’ll be fine, Hayato, but we’re basically screwed,” Ooka said, as if this was a big deal, to which Yamato nodded gravely.
“Totally screwed.”
Ooka sounded so serious. Man, this virginal weather vane’s twisted soul is truly awful. I love it, I was thinking, when Tobe grinned that thoughtless smile of his and pat-patted Hayama’s shoulder.
“Hey, but, like, Hayato generally doesn’t accept chocolate.”
“Are you kidding?! Why would you do that?!” Ooka cried, making Hayama smile wryly.
Oh, he must be trying to avoid trouble.
But I suspected that would be hard to accept for any girls who had a crush on Hayama. And the one at the top of that list, Miura, had turned away with frigid indifference as she listened to the guys’ conversation in silence.
Noticing her reaction, Yuigahama nodded with understanding. “Ah.”
But this time Ebina cut in with utter seriousness, apparently intending to put a halt to the discussion. “But it’s kind of scary to take chocolate from someone you don’t know… Wait. If he’s not taking it, that means…top. So that means the bottom is Hikitani?”
The moment that was out of her mouth, Miura smacked her over the head.
How is she able to keep a straight face when she talks like that…?
Then, Miura shoved a packet of tissues at her. “Ebina, nosebleed.”
“Oh, thanks, thanks.” Stifling her inappropriate chuckles, Ebina blew her nose, and a gentle smile passed over Miura’s face. The warmth among their group then wasn’t just coming from the heater.
No—it was all over the classroom, not just with their clique and the three stooges. That giddiness had infected the whole room.
Societally speaking, it was almost Valentine’s Day. For me, the day I get chocolate from my mom and sister.
Is Valentine’s a day filled with blessed love? I think there’s some room for doubt. For starters, its origins were extremely bloody. Not only is there the whole mess with the saint, it’s also the day of that gang conflict. And if you ask a Chibanese, Valentine’s means Bobby Valentine, and nobody cares about chocolate.
But of course my opinion doesn’t matter; it’s not going to change the way society in general sees it. In fact, if you try to lecture about confectionery industry conspiracies these days, you’ll inevitably be branded as ignorant and uneducated.
Valentine’s Day has already settled in as a unique element of the national culture, like Christmas. Even Halloween might soon enough take root as a Japanized tradition. It’s not much different from summer festivals, the Bon dance, or the grave visits of the vernal and autumnal equinoxes.
In the end, it all comes down to whether you like it or hate it, and nobody questions if tradition or orthodoxy renders it invalid. If you want to reject Christmas or Valentine’s, you have to loudly declare that you hate it.
Komachi will slip me some chocolate every year, so I don’t hate it all that much. In fact, I eagerly await it, as Big Brother dearly loves his Komachi.
I had turned my mind to the joy of splurging for my sister, wondering how expensive the chocolates she’d give me would be this year, since she’d be demanding a return gift of equivalent value or higher, when a stir arose in the classroom.
“We’re never going to make it now!”
“It’ll be okay. We’ve still got time! Let’s do our best! Don’t give up!”
When I looked over, I saw in a different area of the class some girls from the second or third level in the hierarchy busying themselves with knitting needles, making scarves or sweaters or something. They were talking just like a light-novel author and an editor. You’re just not gonna make it in time, it’s almost Valentine’s Day, and you’ve still only done about ten percent. Instead of trying to make it in time, it’s more constructive and also more realistic to focus your efforts on extending the deadline!
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one watching that tragic exchange.
Spinning her hair around a finger, Miura muttered half-heartedly, “…Well, homemade is kinda too much? I can kinda get why he wouldn’t accept it.”
Another girl sighed, too. “Too much…yeah, huh…” With her thin fingers poking out from her slightly overlong cardigan sleeves, Yuigahama combed through her pinkish-brown hair. She seemed embarrassed.
Seeing that expression suddenly reminded me of an incident some time ago, in another season.
—Homemade, huh? Who was she trying to make that for? I was thinking as my eyes wandered over, but then they met with hers. Our gazes both slid in opposite directions.
“Well, it’s the thought that counts, more than the gift itself,” I heard Hayama say, with a bit of wry chagrin in his tone.
“Yeah, totally, dude! Me too, man! I’d love to get something like that, y’know?” Tobe agreed, instantly smacking his knee.
But Ebina, sitting diagonally facing him, crossed her arms as her gaze shifted to the side. “But when it’s homemade, it’s really apparent when you cut corners. You’ve got to be fairly confident in your ability, or it can turn out badly. Wouldn’t a store-bought item be a safer choice?” she said.
“Yeah, that’s also, like, totally, dude!” Tobe immediately flip-flopped.
…C’mon, man, try a little harder.
“…Hmm, homemade, huh?” Miura repeated with disinterest, and their little group’s pleasant chatter continued on loudly.
The divide that had been there was now gone.
Hayama was doing his best to be the Hayato Hayama everyone wanted, and Miura was, in her own way, trying to gradually close the distance between them. And with Tobe and Ebina, too—I guess they hadn’t really changed, but with the passage of time, they’d managed to create a vibe that was very them.
And then there was Yuigahama, watching it all happily.
This scene in the restless classroom was still nevertheless gradually becoming warmer, just like the season gradually turning to spring. Seen from the sidelines, it was so perfect, I found it a little hard to watch.
A cold, dry air filled the hallway to the special-use building. My lips were chapped, and my skin felt tight.
There had been condensation on the classroom windows, but the windows in this hallway were clear, and I had a good view of the school courtyard and its naked trees and the bare flower beds. It was a sort of dusty, olive-brown winter scenery of our latitude.
Chiba doesn’t get much snow in the winter. Kanto in general isn’t accustomed to snow, but I’m sure Chiba has some of the least. Last month when it was on the news that it was snowing in Tokyo, there wasn’t even a sprinkle in Chiba then, either.
It’s the lack of wintriness that makes it so chilly. I was really feeling the temperature drop between here and the classroom where I’d just been, and I tugged my scarf up around my neck.
It wasn’t the nearby heater that had made that classroom, that place, seem warm. It was just being somewhere where the cracks were actually filled up.
Just as Hayama and his friends wished, there would be no dramatic ending, and they would welcome any and all endings peacefully and warmly. Just like the end of the world, and the end of life. It’s through the efforts of people that happiness and peace are maintained, and I was reminded of that fact once again.
Maybe they understood from experience, too, after so many winters, that spring would come.
Not only will the spring be warm—a gentle parting awaits beyond, too. There is also the example of flowers and storms; life is naught but farewells.
Our classes will change, and all our social relationships will be constructed anew. Around this time next year will be the peak of entrance exam season, and we will no longer be coming to school. Everyone will be savoring this winter so as to peacefully welcome the end when it comes.
And there was legitimate warmth in that, but I found it rather chilly myself. I was walking along, quietly complaining under my scarf about the cold, when I heard the light patter of footsteps on the floor behind me.
As I was turning around, there was a clap on my shoulder. I looked to see Yuigahama pouting at me. “Why’re you going without me…?” she asked.
“Uh, it’s not like we said we were going together…,” I said, a bit irritated. It just didn’t make sense that she was acting this way.
Yuigahama’s mouth dropped open, and then she combed through her hair like she was embarrassed. “…Oh, I thought you were waiting for me. Since you were in the classroom awhile…”
“No, that was just…” But even as I started to reply, I recalled why I’d stayed behind in the classroom. It was true Yuigahama had invited me countless times to walk to the clubroom together with her. Maybe I’d been waiting for her to come to me without even realizing it.
But I did hit on another reason, too. “Oh, I was just kinda checking how things were going with Hayama and Miura.”
“Ohhh, yeah. It seems like they’re okay now. What a relief,” Yuigahama said with a slight sigh and nod. She went off a few steps ahead of me down the empty hallway, then turned back partway. “I kinda think it’s nice. Everyone has stuff on their minds, but they’re still making sure to treasure the moment. Like, no time like the present, and all…,” she said, as if reflecting on each and every word, a peaceful smile on her face.
“Well, yeah. Maybe the present is the best time we have.”
“Oh. You’re not usually so positive, Hikki…”
“Remembering the past makes you want to die of regret, and thinking about the future makes you depressed from the anxiety, so it wins by process of elimination.”
“I knew you were gonna make it sad!” Yuigahama puffed up her cheeks, shoulders slumping as she stalked on ahead. Then she grumbled quietly, “You always jump to saying things like that… You could consider the atmosphere.”
“The atmosphere, huh…?”
Well, for example…this Valentine’s Day atmosphere, I guess.
Oh, I can get that. I’d like to go along with the masses for once, too—lie to myself and let the seasonal festivities sweep me away and then blame any indiscretion on that. I’d love to get my hopes up and take advantage and leave it to someone else and wait.
But I don’t think that’s enough.
Just waiting is insincere. No matter what sort of answer or conclusion may await, you take a real step forward—with no lies, deception, or suspicion, and then afterward, you can properly remember and regret it.
So I would drink down this “mood” and try asking now.
“Oh yeah, so…” My voice sounded a bit hoarse when I spoke, making Yuigahama turn around. With a tilt of her head and a look, she asked me to continue.
It was a little too much to look straight at her, so I angled my face away. “…Hey, are you free sometime soon?”
“Huh? Y-yeah. Um, probably… I guess I am generally free. Sorta.” She flailed her hands like she was a little surprised, then rushed to pull out her cell phone. But then she froze and glanced over at the door to the clubroom. Then after that, she didn’t say anything. Unlike before, her expression seemed somehow subdued.
I was a little surprised by that, but I didn’t feel like I could ask why. So I said nothing at all. The air in the hallway was particularly cold and dry, and something felt wrong, like something was stuck to the back of my throat.
Maybe I shouldn’t have asked here and now. Or maybe there was some other way of saying it, some smarter way of doing it. Or was the way I asked not casual enough? I just wasn’t sure.
With my shoulders hunched and head lowered, unable to say anything else, I looked at Yuigahama. She was smiling with some discomfort, and it made my breath catch.
As if to fill the silence that had come between us, she said quickly, “I’ll think about it a bit, so later, ’kay?”
“…O-okay.”
Was this relief, or was it just my energy draining away? Or was it something else?
Whatever it was, my stomach was in a few more knots than it was before, and my reply came with a deep sigh. But Yuigahama didn’t wait for it, pattering a few steps ahead to open the door of the clubroom.
The door was flung open. When I went inside, a soft, gentle air enveloped me.
Though there were far fewer people here than in the classroom, this place felt warmer, strangely enough. Or maybe it was because this special-use building gets more sun.
With the peaceful rays of the sun pouring down upon her, Yukino Yukinoshita was sitting in her usual seat. Looking up from the paperback in her hands, she gently combed back her long hair, and a soft smile came to her face. “Hello.”
“Yahallo, Yukinon.” Yuigahama shot up a hand as she replied, and I gave my usual lazy greeting.
“’Sup.”
With that, we each sat down in our own chairs.
At some point, it had been decided this was the place I belonged. No one had declared it was, no one had forced me, and no one had questioned it. It was far more comfortable than I’d expected.
Because of this, it felt incredibly wrong to see someone there who wasn’t one of the usual suspects.
“You’re laaate!”
“Why are you here…?”
Leaning forward over her desk, swinging her legs back and forth as she complained, was the less-than-presidential student council president of Soubu High School: Iroha Isshiki. She gave me a very deliberate pout, then jerked her face away; every single move she made had manipulative intentions… And hey, she got here earlier than me or Yuigahama—is she as swift as the Shimakaze?
“I asked if she had some business, but she said she’d wait until you two were here, and she’s been here the whole time,” Yukinoshita said with a little whiff of a sigh. She shot Isshiki an exceptionally icy look. But nevertheless, she’d poured her a proper cup of tea and was offering her surprisingly legitimate hospitality—I wasn’t sure if Isshiki’s presence here meant membership, but it seemed they had some kind of relationship. There are many types of ships in the world—some people even build a collection!
And as for Isshiki, she maintained her devil-may-care attitude even under Yukinoshita’s cold gaze. Turning her whole body toward me, she brought one hand to her mouth to murmur softly like she was imparting a secret, “Yukinoshita got really excited when I came in…but then she saw it was me, and she’s been acting disappointed ever since.”
Oh, I see… That’s because whenever Isshiki shows up, it means trouble. But seriously. Why is she here? I was thinking as I heard a tiny ahem.
“…Isshiki?” I looked over to see a sweet smile on Yukinoshita’s face.
Oh, I know this smile! This is Yukinon’s intimidation face!
“Y-yes! I’m sorry—I did come for a reason!” Isshiki slipped around to prod me forward from behind, like some kind of conditioned reflex.
Hey, cut that out, I’m a little scared, too.
“H-hey, hey now. Does it have to do with the student council, Iroha-chan?” Yuigahama mediated, beckoning Isshiki.
“You’re so nice, Yui!” Isshiki said, returning to her original position with a nonchalant expression.
When I gave Isshiki a look that asked her what she was here for, then, she replied with an even more nonchalant look as she did a little wave.
“Wellll, I’ve got more time on my hands than I thought I would, right?”
“Huh?” I never know what she’s talking about… We had a whole ton of work just the other day, thanks to you…
Wait, does she mean she actually has nothing to do after all that? Is it like burnout? When you crunch for so long that when the pressure goes away, you don’t know what to do with yourself? …But I feel like I was the one burning out there. How about that, hmm? With that thought, I shot her a persistent glare in an attempt to ascertain what she really meant.
Isshiki put her index finger to her chin and tilted her head cutely. “There’s no school events right now, and the vice president and everyone else’ll work super-hard to handle the minor stuff. And for the reports and stuff for the end of the fiscal year, I just have to do the stamping when they’re done, so.”
Oh. I’m not all that informed on student council work, but her story holds water. The third-years are right in the middle of university entrance exams, and the school administration is also heavily occupied with tests for prospective students.
Meaning not a lot of management for the rest of us, so she really might have nothing to do.
“So when we’re not very busy, the student council decided not to have meetings,” Isshiki continued.
Well, well, reasonable administration… Meanwhile, our club president requires attendance even when we have nothing to do. Extortion!
And as for said extortioner, she was nodding with a hmm as she gently touched her hand to her chin. “You have your club activities as well, don’t you?” Yukinoshita said with a tilt of her head.
Isshiki blushed a bit bashfully and turned her face away. “……………It’s too cold for the soccer club right now.”
Forget bashfulness—this is the kind of rationale you should just be flat ashamed of. Yukinoshita put a hand to her temple as if applying pressure to a headache.
Yuigahama also had a dry, mannerly smile on. “Ah, ah-ha-ha… So then what did you come for?” she asked.
Ahem. Isshiki cleared her throat, then spun around to face me. “Not like I care, but do you like sweets?”
“I think Hayama will gladly eat anything,” I said, anticipating where this was going. I already had a grasp of Isshiki’s motives and behavior. She puffed up her cheeks in apparent disappointment.
Yuigahama realized with a start. “Oh, but Hayato was saying he’s not gonna accept any chocolates.”
“Whaaat? Why nooot?” Isshiki whined.
“…I—I dunno?” Yuigahama tilted her head.
Yukinoshita let out a short sigh. “Because it would cause quarrels, obviously. Back in elementary school, the next day would always be very tense…”
“…Ahhh.”
“…Ahhh. I think I get that.”
Isshiki and Yuigahama both nodded. Yeah, yeah, I get that, too! I get that!
I’m sure the classroom the next day will wind up like The Heart-Pounding All-Girls Witch Trial in Absentia! With added snitching! and I can easily imagine it turning into a whole thing. Since much of “girl talk” amounts to bad-mouthing other girls (according to my personal research).
Whoa, scary. While I was thinking about it all, Isshiki, who I’d assume has lived her life being bashed in the dark underworld—I mean, civil society of girls—gave a faint sigh. “Fine, then you can answer as yourself this time. Do you like sweets?”
“What a weird way to ask…” It’s the same question as before, but it’s too hard to answer honestly. I feel like I was just tossed in as an extra… As I was thinking, there was a scrape of a chair. Looking over, I saw Yuigahama leaning forward enthusiastically.
“Hikki loves sweets!”
“He does.” Meanwhile, Yukinoshita had a haughty, superior little smile on her face.
Isshiki seemed a bit overwhelmed by the two of them and responded somewhat evasively, “Dunno how I feel about you two answering instead of him, but…this is perfect, then!”
“Uh-huh…,” I said. “Wait, what’s perfect?”
“I was worrying about how sweet to make them, you know? ’Cause everybody’s got their own preferences, riiight?” Isshiki continued, completely ignoring my question.
Yukinoshita tilted her head. “How sweet…? Isshiki, do you plan to make some yourself?”
“That’s surprising,” I said.
Isshiki huffed. “What’s surprising? I’m good at making sweets.” She puffed out her flat chest, while Yuigahama slumped forward.
“Awww, that’s so nice! I wish I could do that, too, but I’m just no good at it…”
Hmm, the chest that’s puffed toward me is still smaller than Yuigahama’s; it’s throwing off my depth perception… Did they screw up on the perspective? Whatever, I’ll submit a request for them to correct the animation when it comes out on Blu-ray!
Also, no good doesn’t even begin to describe Yuigahama’s culinary antiprowess, but compared with boobs, it’s a minor issue.
“Yui. Cooking comes from the heart. What’s needed for homemade baking is kindness and thoughtfulness. The fastest shortcut to improvement is considering the one you’re cooking for.” Isshiki comfortingly pat-patted the glum-looking Yuigahama on the shoulder, then stuck up a finger. With a mild smile, she offered her gentle encouragement. “You’re giving it to boys, and they don’t know the first thing about cooking, right? So homemade is the easy way out. You can mass-produce at low cost, and you can just tweak the finishing touches to customize for each individual. So it’s easy to make something they’ll go gaga for.”
“You’re being thoughtful about all the wrong things…,” I said. “And your kindness is entirely directed at your wallet.”
“But she isn’t technically wrong,” said Yukinoshita, “which makes it even worse…”
“It wouldn’t make me very happy…,” Yuigahama said.
Not even Isshiki was immune to all the criticism. She groaned, unable to respond, and then shoved it all to the side and forcibly changed the subject. “Well, I wasn’t being serious. I mean, I was trying to do an imitation of him…” She looked over at me. “So anyway, what sort of sweets do you like? I was thinking it’ll be helpful to know, for when I’m making obligatory chocolate.”
“If you wanna know… This.” What I took out from my bag was, of course, MAX Coffee. Why? Because this is very special stuff.
When I set my can down on the table, it received three skeptical looks.
Hey now, why so suspicious…? When you’re giving something sweet, there’s no Chibanese who will turn this baby down. Or so I would have liked to say, but they were really giving me the side-eye, huh…?
Staring at the can, Yuigahama muttered, “…I bet even I could make that.”
“Hey, watch it. Don’t you dare mock this drink. You better not be assuming that all you have to do is put sugar and condensed milk into coffee. Cut the crap, geez.”
“Wait, are you actually mad?!”
Of course. This is far from just putting condensed milk into coffee. In fact, it’s closer to putting coffee into condensed milk. There’s no way you could get that rich sweetness if the ingredients were actually proportionate to their order on the label. This is no task for an amateur.
Isshiki touched her fingertip to her lip, then opened her mouth as if she were considering something. “Wait, though, that would take us over budget.”
“I don’t know how much you plan to make, but one serving at one hundred thirty yen is a pretty severe price to set it at…,” Yukinoshita said with some exasperation, rubbing at her temple.
But her concerns were unfounded. “It’s okay. With Max can, if you pick the right shop and buy in bulk, then it’s even cheaper.”
“How obsessed are you, Hikki…?”
“Well, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade with tons of sugar. The end of a lemon is the closest I’ll ever get to sucking the golden teat anyway.” A wry chuckle slipped out of me.
Yukinoshita swept the hair off her shoulders with a confident smile. “Oh, is that why you’re so bitter?”
“Sure, whatever.” I wasn’t about to deny my lemony lot in life. “I’m still getting a sour deal, though. If I’m going to suck at something, I’d rather it taste sweet.”
“I believe that’s what they call ‘sucking at life’…” Yukinoshita let out a long, deep sigh.
Oh, she is quite right indeed. I suck at life, too. From the above, you can surmise that life is a lemon, and thus makes for some really sour lemonade!
As I was entertaining such trivial thoughts, Isshiki snorted at me. “Agh. Well, not like anyone cares about that.”
No one cares? Rude!
Isshiki tossed back her black tea in one go, set down her paper cup with a tup, and turned to me. “I wanted you to consider something I could give as obligatory chocolate.”
“Obligatory chocolate, huh…?” Scratching my head, I did a pass over my memory, but no one’s ever felt obligated to give me chocolate, so I don’t really know what the standard is. The chocolate from my sister is the sincere kind, after all!
Such feelings must have shown on my face, as Isshiki gave me a nasty smirk. “Oh, are you one of those guys who’s never gotten chocolate before? Don’t boys compete over the number of chocolates they get? Getting nothing hurts your pride, you know?”
“Uh, it’s not like I need any of that… Come on, is Valentine’s Day a sport or what?”
“Highest score wins” is as simple and clear as you get, but the application of the rules in practice is all over the place. Especially when they come roaring at you with an offside trap like obligatory chocolate! That’s like faking you got hit with a foul, an instant red card… That works, right? What’s an offside, again? Ah, you got me; I don’t really know anything about soccer.
Anyhow, despite my various arguments, Isshiki seemed to take them all as bravado and bluster, and she wouldn’t listen at all. In fact, she gave me an uncomfortably warm look and sighed as if to say, Good grief. “Well, there’s only one way to fix—”
“You don’t need to worry about that.” But Yukinoshita cut her off. Swishing her hair back, she smiled with calm composure. It was quite a contrast with Isshiki, whose mouth was innocently hanging open.
“Huh…? Wait, Yukinoshita—,” Isshiki began.
But Yukinoshita wouldn’t let her finish, a soft smile crossing her face. “Hikigaya doesn’t have any friends to compete with.”
“Oh, I see.” I found myself nodding along with Isshiki until we looked like a couple of chickens. I see—that’s true. So loners are primitive communists for whom the principle of competition doesn’t operate, huh? So primitive it’s only one person…
As I was preparing to ponder the principles of peace, Yuigahama puffed up her cheeks in a pout. “I don’t think you have to worry… But, like, Hikki won’t get nothing… Right?” she said, then flicked a hesitant look at me.
I nodded back at her with a casual smile.
“Huh…? Do you mean…?” Isshiki’s gaze shifted between Yuigahama and me. Her bewildered eyes met mine.
A triumphant chuckle crawled its way out from deep within my throat. “Heh, that’s right… I have Komachi!” So I will actually get some! Yay! I really am glad I have a little sister! A sister’s all you need!
But Isshiki tilted her head with a blank expression. “Huh? Komachi? Who’s that? The rice girl?”
“She’s not rice,” I said.
What, do they eat a lot of Akita Komachi–brand rice in the Isshiki household? My sister should be the beautiful mascot up there in the north. Or even down here in Chiba.
“Oh, Komachi-chan is Hikki’s little sister,” Yuigahama explained.
“Uh-huh, gotcha,” Isshiki said, while her expression said she totally didn’t care. “Didn’t know you had a sister.”
“Yeah.” I do. A world-class sister. In fact, she’s the little sister of the world.
My proud answer earned me a dubious stare from Isshiki. With her eyes narrowed to slits, she gave me a long, hard look, then cocked her head just slightly. “…Sister complex?”
“Pfft lol come on no way,” I said in a hurry, but the others didn’t exactly rush to my defense.
“…I think, maybe…I can’t…deny it,” Yuigahama said, and Yukinoshita nodded gravely.
Hey, back me up here.
Irohasu seemed quite satisfied by that reaction, nodding. Then she stuck up her index finger and touched it to her chin, tilting her head with a cutesy smile. “I knew it. You like younger girls, huh?”
“No not really actually,” I said, again in a hurry.
It doesn’t matter if they’re older or younger: I have an almighty weakness to basically everyone.
When I brushed her off, Isshiki gave me a super-quiet tsk. “So then…” With a little hem to ensure her throat was in good working order, she gave me a glance with upturned eyes, then immediately looked away. She squeezed the chest of her uniform, her other hand trembling slightly as she fixed where her skirt had gone askew from her squirming. Her breath was hot; her eyes were moist.
And then, hesitantly, she opened her mouth. “Do you…hate younger girls?”
………Hate them?! No! No! In fact, if I have to say, I love them!
Yuigahama let out a short sigh and glanced at Isshiki with exasperation. “That’s just about how you say it and your body language, isn’t it…?”
“…Well, yeah.” Yeah, I’m in agreement with that opinion. I have, as one might expect, gained a level of tolerance in this area.
Isshiki apparently didn’t like that and shot me a slightly resentful look.
I couldn’t help but smirk at her reaction.
I think Isshiki’s gestures and manner of speaking are charming enough, as is Isshiki herself—it’s just that for a number of reasons, they don’t have much effect on me now. Not long ago, that would’ve easily made me light-headed. Definitely.
Of those many reasons, if I were to put the biggest one most plainly… “I love all little sisters, whether they’re older or younger.”
“That’s even worse than having a sister complex! Or liking younger girls!” Yuigahama yelled with utter sorrow, and Isshiki nodded along as she cringed away from me.
What? Just imagining an older Komachi for a moment is very productive. Looking around to see if maybe someone else might agree, I found Yukinoshita tilting her head, arms folded, with a slightly dubious expression on her face.
“But what makes a girl count as ‘younger’ to you? Is it school year? Year of birth? Or if she was just born a few days later…? The definition here is vague. Shouldn’t you decide that first?” Yukinoshita was muttering.
Yuigahama seemed to hear that, as she suddenly clapped. “Oh, but Hikki’s really compatible with a slightly-older-sister type! Yeah! …Probably. Definitely!” Her clenched fist was unusually tense.
Listen. I’m simply not fixated on such trivial matters. Not at all.
“…That doesn’t really matter. Just one year’s difference doesn’t change much,” I said.
Mainly in the realm of income! What’s important is whether she can support me financially or not. And in that regard, my Komachi will do a perfect job taking care of me! She’s got what it takes to be an excellent pet mom.
Isshiki’s reply was a hmuurg. “What, really? Does Hayama think the same way?”
“Uh, I don’t know what Hayama thinks.”
“Buuuut before, you said that being younger put me at an advantage, didn’t you?”
“Oh. Well, yeah…” Now that she mentioned it, the thought hit me.
Oh yeah, she is younger than me, huh? More or less… But Isshiki doesn’t show any sense of respect or reverence or honor or admiration or whatever, so it kind of kills that “younger girl” feeling…
And, like—she really takes me pretty lightly. My initials may be H2, but I hope I’m a little more of a heavyweight than hydrogen. Neither am I a baseball manga (which is a little light on the baseballness for a baseball manga), okay? In fact, I don’t even consider that a baseball manga; that’s a teen romantic comedy. It’s such a masterpiece, I reread the whole series every year during summer vacation.
“But hey,” I said, “I mean, you were born in April, and there’s actually less than a year between us. I don’t really get the impression that you’re younger.”
These days, I have the sense that you only just start to feel the difference when you’re two or three years apart. Someone like Komachi or Haruno counts as having an age gap. If you’re at the level of Miss Hiratsuka…yeah.
The age gap between me and Isshiki is actually eight months. And Yukinoshita and Isshiki are only three months apart.
Or so was my thought, but Isshiki must not have seen it this way, as she blinked.
“…”
“What…?” I asked her.
She started petting at her bangs as if trying to cover her reaction. “Oh, nothing… That’s just a little surprising.”
Meanwhile, Yuigahama, sitting opposite her, pushed her chair away from me with a super-loud scraping sound. “How do you know her birthday?! Yikes! Hikki, that’s creepy… Ohhh, that’s really creepy, actually…”
“…You’re quite informed, aren’t you?” And Yukinoshita remained unmoved, smiling like the sun. Like how the sun lances into your eyes, specifically.
“Uh, Isshiki brought it up herself before, and she was manipulatively and pointlessly bringing attention to it…”
“Pointless?! I-it’s not pointless! And it’s not manipulative, either—in fact, you’re being way more manipulative here!” Isshiki shot to her feet, jabbing her index finger at me.
Hey, I’m not being manipulative, and Isshiki’s the one you’d normally call manipulative… “I have a really great memory, okay…? And look, if you’ve done what you came for, then go back to the student council room or the soccer club or whatever,” I said. Isshiki stuck out her lower lip grumpily but still got up to leave the clubroom, albeit reluctantly. This girl and her bag of tricks… Yeah, yeah, very manipulative, uh-huh.
Yukinoshita, Yuigahama, and I were all watching her go with chagrined smiles, when there was a knock at the door of the Service Club.
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