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5

Despite it all, Yoshiteru Zaimokuza wails alone in the wasteland.

Monday. Given that it means “day of the moon,” you’d think there’d be more butts involved, but of course, it was nothing so sexy. The thought of another week of school was enough to draw a sigh from me. Another week of school… I had a serious itch to cut class, but of course, with no one to take notes for me or collect extra handouts, I was forced to attend more often. It costs money to go to school, and yet I still want to skip, so I bet I’ll end up skipping constantly when I get employed. You don’t even have to pay for that. No, I wouldn’t want to cause trouble for my coworkers by shirking my duties, so I’d prefer never working in the first place.

But normies are always spouting stuff like Oh man, school is such a drag. Ah-ha-ha! And I lost my textbook over summer vacation! so why do they adore school so much? They show up every day, right? Perhaps espousing views one doesn’t actually hold is a core tenet of normiedom. In sum, the way of the normie is founded upon deception.

Barely in time for morning homeroom, under cover of chatter and noise, I entered the classroom. Inside, a number of colonies had formed. There was the coed Normie Squad One, the boys of Normie Squad Two itching to make a pass at the girls, the sports club jocks who hadn’t actually made the teams, the nerds, the main unit of girls, and the quiet girls. And a few loners here and there. These loners could be further classified into a few different types…but whatever.

When I walked into the classroom, everyone was engaged in conversation, and no one noticed me. No, that’s not right. It’d be more accurate to say that no one cared. Weaving through the various social islands in the classroom, I advanced toward my own seat. Nearby was a gaggle of normies and the nerd group.

People in cliques stress out over every little thing. When they arrive too early, they’re like, I guess the others aren’t here yet… There’s an endearing quality to the way they fidget with their cell phones and pretend to brush back their hair and glance at the classroom door. They’re highly group conscious, so they don’t stray beyond their own cliques much. When they’re alone, they don’t try to mingle with other factions. When you think about it, they’re actually exclusionary. Discriminatory, even.

In other words, paradoxically, loners are the true philanthropists. Loving nothing is equivalent to loving everything. Damn, it’s only a matter of time before they dub me Mother Hikigaya.

I took my seat and figured I’d zone out. I stared at my hand vaguely, and an array of inconsequential ruminations sprouted up one after another, like Oh yeah, my nails are a little long, or Huh? Is my lifeline getting shorter? so I wasn’t bored. I’m an old hand at wasting time.

What a worthless skill…

I employed several of these useless skills, and before I knew it, class was over, and school was done for the day. I worried I might have honed that skill a little too well and unlocked my Stand power. I briskly packed my things and rose to my feet.

The girl in the seat beside me hadn’t spoken a word to me today, either. Maybe the reason English education in Japan doesn’t work is because they force you into pairs for compulsory conversation.

When I arrived at the Service Club, Yuigahama, who had left the classroom before me, was already there, though not inside the room. She was taking deep breaths in front of the door.

“…What’re you doing?”

 

 

 

 

“Hyagh! …Oh, H-Hikki. U-uh, well, I dunno? There’s just kind of a weird vibe in there…” She averted her eyes awkwardly.

“…”

“…”

Both of us were silent.

We both silently looked down, avoiding each other’s eyes. Then I noticed the door of the clubroom was slightly ajar. When I peeked in through the crack, I saw Yukinoshita in her same old spot, reading like she always was.

I guess Yuigahama was hesitant to go inside. That was no surprise. She hadn’t attended in a week. Be it school or a part-time job, if you suddenly ditch, it’s hard to face everyone when you return. I’ve experienced that three times because I skipped work on a whim. Each time, I felt so awkward that I never went again. Actually, if you include the jobs where I never attended once, I guess it was five times. Thus, I was sympathetic to Yuigahama’s reservations.

“Come on, we’re going in.” That was also why I half-dragged her in with me. I made sure to open the door as loudly as possible to draw attention to us.

The noise likely irritated Yukinoshita, as her head jerked up. “Yuigahama…”

“H-hey, Yukinon…” Yuigahama raised a hand weakly and replied with strained cheer.

Yukinoshita returned to her book as if nothing had happened. “Don’t just stand there. Come in. Club’s begun already.” Her downward gaze appeared to be an attempt to hide her face, but her cheeks were red enough that even I could tell. Also, what was with the way she said that? Are you a mom ushering in your runaway kid who’s come slinking home?

“Y-yeah…,” Yuigahama replied and took her customary seat beside Yukinoshita. But she pulled the chair out farther than usual, leaving a person’s-width space between her and the other girl.

I settled into my normal position diagonally across from Yukinoshita.

Yuigahama would usually be fiddling with her cell phone, but today she was seated on the edge of her chair, her hands resting stiffly on her knees. Most likely, she was trying so hard to tune out Yukinoshita’s presence that she ended up extraconscious of her, as she was frozen stock-still.

This was not a comfortable, languid quiet. This silence was tense. I was hyperaware of the sound of my own squirming. Even the smallest ahem reverberated in the room, and I couldn’t ignore the sluggish ticking of the clock counting off the seconds. Nobody said a word. But all three of us had perked up our ears so as not to miss any ostensible attempt to break the ice. When someone sighed, we immediately zeroed in on that person.

What a long silence…, I thought. I checked my wristwatch, but not even three minutes had passed. What the hell? Is this the Hyperbolic Time Chamber? It was so bad I could feel the increased gravity and atmospheric pressure weighing down on me. I watched the second hand of the clock go tick tock, and once it had completed its circle, I heard a soft voice.

“Yuigahama.” Yukinoshita snapped the book in her hands shut, sucked in a breath so deep her shoulders rose, and then slowly exhaled again. She quietly faced the other girl and opened her mouth as if about to say something, but nothing came out.

Yuigahama’s body was turned toward Yukinoshita, but her eyes remained glued to the floor instead of making contact. “U-uhm…you wanted to talk about…you…and Hikki, right?”

“Yes, I wanted to talk to you about our future…,” Yukinoshita began.

Yuigahama interrupted her. “L-look, you don’t have to worry about me at all. It’s true I was surprised, or, like…a little startled, I guess…but you don’t have to go out of your way for me, you know? In fact, this is a good thing, so I think we should celebrate and enjoy it…”

“S-so you caught on… I just wanted to celebrate it properly. Besides…I’m grateful to you…”

“O-oh, no… I haven’t done anything worth any thanks. I…haven’t done anything.”

“It’s very like you to lack self-awareness about such matters. Still, I am thankful. Besides, one doesn’t celebrate these things because of some act on the part of the recipient. I just want to do it.”

“…Y-yeah.”

I suspected they weren’t having the same conversation. It was like they were putting keywords first and filling in the blanks in their own heads. Yuigahama was equivocating to avoid confrontation, and Yukinoshita was communicating in implications to disguise her shyness, creating a mismatched conversation that was all mood and no substance.

Yukinoshita was bashful and crimson cheeked as she expressed the gratitude she usually never voiced. And every time Yuigahama saw the other girl’s face, her own expression darkened a shade, occasionally covered with a forced smile. Her narrowed eyes were moist.

“S-so, um…” Yukinoshita started to say something and then fell silent.

A tiny window of time passed. Searching for words, timid, fearful, hesitant, or tentative would all have been apt descriptors for Yukinoshita right then. Objectively timed, the silence probably wouldn’t have amounted to ten seconds, but the heavy stillness lasted too long for her to continue. The three of us gazed pointedly away from one another in the hopes this weird moment would pass.

“U-um…” Yuighama spoke as if she’d made up her mind about something, and that was when it happened.

A panicked banging on the door rang through the quiet clubroom.

Yukinoshita softly closed her book, faced the door, and called out, “Come in.”

But there was no response from the other side of the door. All that reached our ears was a sound like a horse snorting. Fushururu.

Yukinoshita and I looked at each other, and she nodded. Apparently, that meant for me to go investigate.

Go look yourself…, I thought for an instant, but it would be awkward telling a girl to check out the source of that ghastly panting sound. I advanced toward the door, each step closing the distance between me and the mysterious respiration. There were only two sounds remaining in the quiet room: my footsteps and the panting. When I arrived at the portal, I gulped audibly. The thought of nothing but a single wooden panel separating us from that nameless presence stirred my apprehension. I put a hand to the door and timidly slid it open.

A large, black shadow popped through the gap and reached out to wrench the door wide. “Wahhhh! Hachiemoooon!”

“Oh, Zaimokuza… And hey, don’t call me that.”

Our enigmatic visitor was in fact Yoshiteru Zaimokuza. Even though we were halfway into June, he was clad in a black trench coat. Gasping in the heat, shoulders heaving, he entered and grasped my shoulder. “Listen, Hachiemon! These guys are so mean!” Zaimokuza continued, heedless to my request not to call me that. He clearly didn’t care.

What a dick… He was grating on my nerves, so I elected to shove him back out. “Sorry, Zaimokuza. The Service Club maxes out at three. Right, Gian?”

“Why are you looking at me?” Yukinoshita’s expression was half bemusement and half pique. But never mind that right now.

“Hey, wait, Hachiman,” said Zaimokuza. “This is no time for jokes. If ‘Hachiemon’ is not to your liking, I can settle for ‘Ninja Hachitori.’ Lend me your ear.”

“The biggest joke in the school is telling me not to mess around…” This was a bombshell.

“Hngh! This is my chance!” Exploiting my momentary distraction, Zaimokuza skated into the room, but the slide was the only acceptable part of his entrance. He swooshed well enough, but his trench coat was filthy. “Feh-hm, no sign of the enemy, huh…? It seems my infiltration was a success,” he said, making a show of scanning the area. The whole role-play must have left his mind immediately thereafter, though, as he yanked out a nearby chair totally normally.

If you’re gonna do it, stick with it until the end.

“Now then, men,” he announced. “Today, I am calling on you for counsel on a certain matter.”

“I don’t really want to hear about it, though…,” I told him.

All of us eyed him skeptically. Yukinoshita seemed particularly uninterested in any further engagement, as she had returned to reading. Man, you sure switch gears quickly.

But Zaimokuza grinned broadly and lifted one hand, stopping me. Every last one of his little idiosyncrasies was so irritating. “Come, hear my tale to its bitter end. The other day, I informed you of my aspirations to be a games writer, right?”

Yeah, now that he mentioned it, that did sound familiar.

“Didn’t you wanna write novels or something…?” Yuigahama tilted her head.

“Ngh… Indeed I did. ’Tis too long a yarn to spin here, but basically, a light novel author lacks a stable income, so I relinquished the dream. I figured it’d be better to be a full-time formal employee after all.”

“That was a short story… It took you two sentences,” I remarked. “And it’s not like I care, but stop directing everything you say toward me.”

Zaimokuza was as terrible as ever at talking to girls. He’d never taken his eyes off me this entire time.

The vibe in the room was relaxed. No, actually, maybe a more accurate descriptor would be “completely apathetic.” Zaimokuza was the lone island of enthusiasm in a rising sea of ennui. “Phmph. So about my career ambitions…”

“If this is just another plot or setting outline, I’m not looking at it,” I said.

“Pa-hem, pa-hem. Such was not the purpose of my journey here. There have arisen in my life those who would interfere with my ambitions. I think they’re probably jealous of my talent.”

“What did you just say?” I was indignant. No, one could even call the sentiment genuine ire. He says he has talent?! I was inches from flying into a rage and punching him in the face.

“Hachiman, do you know of the UG Club?”

“Huh? The yuugee what? Oh?” The word wasn’t familiar, so I answered his question with another question.

Yukinoshita, who was still reading, replied as she turned a page. “It’s a new club that was established this year. The acronym stands for ‘United Gamers.’ It seems their focus is to study games entertainment in general.”

“Ohh, so it’s basically a games society.”

“Yes. This school doesn’t allow the more casual clubs like this, and so their hobby is treated as an official club. But when you consider the actual scope and nature of what they do, it’s probably clearer to call it a society, I suppose.”

I didn’t know we had something like that at our school…

“So what about this yuugee club?” Yuigahama asked, pronouncing the acronym a little oddly.

Zaimokuza paused again briefly before responding. “Uh…oh yeah. I was at the arcade yesterday, and unlike at school, I can converse with people at the arcade. So I was speaking of my dream to write for games to my fighting-game buddies.”

Such a graceful way of putting it, “speaking of his dreams.” But those are really just his delusions. The guys he’d strong-armed into listening must have suffered, too.

“All and sundry prostrated themselves before my grand ambitions in a storm of commendation: ‘You can do it,’ they said. ‘We’re cheering you on.’ ‘Of course the Master Swordsman can pull off these impossible feats with ease.’ ‘That’s so exciting!’ ‘I look up to you, man,’ et cetera.”

Listen…nobody’s saying that stuff sincerely. They’re making fun of you. But I couldn’t tell Zaimokuza that, obviously. Seeing him reveling in the memory of that moment, I couldn’t bring myself to burst his bubble.

“However! Among the crowd there was one man who turned to me and said, of all things, ‘It’ll n-n-never happen, you’re just d-d-dreaming!’ But I’m an adult, so at the time I just said, ‘Y-yeah, that’s true.’”

Lame. Sir, you are lame.

It seemed the mere recollection was enough to enrage Zaimokuza, as he started gasping and panting. He retrieved a two-liter plastic bottle from his bag and took several gulps to quench his thirst before he opened his mouth again. “But I am not adult enough to back down after a challenge like that!”

“Are you an adult or aren’t you…?” Yukinoshita muttered, rolling her eyes.

Zaimokuza paused for an instant, flinching in horror before he continued. “And so after those fiends left, I made an inflammatory blog post about the Chiba community of Arcanabros. Hmph, no doubt it left their faces bright red with rage.”

“Whoa… You’re so terrible, it gives me the shivers. I actually find that kinda cool,” I said.

“Hrrm. And now I hear he goes to our school… When I looked at the response this morning, I saw it had been decided that we would settle this with a match. The community is afire with fervor… Hey, do you think they hate me?”

“I dunno… But there’s nothing wrong with settling it through a game. Just go kick his ass.”

“Ha-ha-ha-ha! ’Tis not possible. In the realm of fighting games, he is far more skillful.”

“Huh? Aren’t you supposed to be really good?”

“Well…I suppose I could beat the average player, but there are many greater than I. Did you know, Hachiman? Among the top-tier competitive gamers, some even have professional contracts.”

“Professional…? You can be a pro in this stuff?”

“Indeed you can. The world of fighting games has dark and unholy depths. The man I speak of is not so proficient I’d call him a pro, but he’s definitely better than me,” Zaimokuza said, sounding frustrated.

Yukinoshita snapped her book shut. “I understand, more or less. In other words, you’re soliciting us to help you win this fighting game or whatever.”

“Nay! Feh! Hachiman, you fool! Thou speakest lightly of action games! ’Taint so superficial they kin be mastered in a wee fortnight! And more to th’ point, wot do ye folk ken of fightin’ games?”

He had combined so many dialects I couldn’t understand a word of it, but his anger, at least, made itself clear. I wish my far more formidable irritation would get across to him. Don’t say that stuff to me. Say it to Yukinoshita. Come on.

Yukinoshita gave Zaimokuza a look usually reserved for scraps of garbage. Openly revolted, Yuigahama was muttering, “Ugh…”

“Thus I would like to either cancel the competition somehow or make it into a game that I can definitely win. So bring out those secret gadgets, Hachiemon.”

“Sometimes, I seriously start thinking you’re even more despicable than I am…” 

It doesn’t trouble me when I’m the one saying reprehensible garbage, but hearing someone else do it makes my skin crawl… Somehow restraining the urge to hit Zaimokuza with a chair as he chuckled “tee-hee” to himself like a little brat, I glanced over at Yukinoshita.

Of course, she shook her head. Well, color me surprised.

“Sorry, but no,” I said. “You clearly brought this on yourself. If you’re not ready for the consequences, then don’t stir up shit in the first place.” The Service Club was not about bailing out everyone who came to us. It was not an all-powerful magic lamp to grant any wish, nor was it a robotic helper to solve any problem. The club just helped you help yourself. And that was why we weren’t going to lend a hand to someone who had dug his own grave. It was harsh, but it had to be said.

Zaimokuza went silent for a while. Maybe he was reflecting on his behavior. “Hachiman,” he rasped my name with considerable anguish.

I replied, What? with my eyes alone.

Zaimokuza released a deep sigh. Pfwooo.

Huh? Was that just a sigh? What a weird noise.

Hfwoo. “You’ve changed, Hachiman. You used to seethe with fighting spirit… In your visage, I could see a quiver like a bow string’s pulse.”

“Don’t break into falsetto. My face has never looked like that. What’re you trying to say?” I fired back.

Zaimokuza shrugged his shoulders and snorted a laugh. “Ahh, hmm, it’s nothing. You just go giggle and titter away with the girls. ’Twould not be the sort of thing you’d understand, anyway. ’Tis better for you to doze in your dream of normalcy. I have no need for a warrior who has forgotten the battlefield.”

“Hey. Wait. I don’t remember ever ‘giggling and tittering’ away. I don’t have a girlfriend, either. Oh, though I have giggled with Totsuka—”

“Silence, boy!” He cut me off with a command like the snap of an enormous white wolf. His words resounded within the quiet clubroom, and a momentary silence fell upon us.

But just before everything went totally still, I thought I heard a quiet “…Huh? You…don’t have a girlfriend? Uh, uh…huh?”

“Listen, Hachiman. Imagine if I lost the match. Things would get so awkward, I wouldn’t be able to visit the arcade anymore. Then when you and Totsuka go, you won’t have me to show you around. Is that not so?”

Ahh! H-he’s right! What a conundrum! I have to help him win somehow!

Not. Obviously.

“Uh, but we don’t really need you to show us around… I hate to say it, but you were just in the way.”

“Duh-heh,” Zaimokuza chortled disconcertingly, and the two girls quietly inched even farther away from him. Before I knew it, Yuigahama and Yukinoshita had shifted closer to each other.

Huh. I’d always believed Zaimokuza was the type who always ruined the mood, or maybe just disturbed it. And he really was. He destroyed good vibes, but he also deftly torpedoed the bad ones, too. He probably didn’t do it deliberately, but I figured the Service Club should show some appreciation for this. I felt a little guilty for saying no to him now.

Perhaps Zaimokuza was perceptive enough to detect my vacillation, as he grinned and followed up on his attack. “Ha-mmph. This Service Club or whatever you call it is laughable. You offer no assistance to one before you, and you call this service? You can’t actually save anyone, can you? Don’t just talk big! Show me with your action!”

“Oh, Zaimokuza. You idiot…”

It was the height of summer, yet my spine was perfectly cold.

“……I see. Then we will prove it to you.” Yukinoshita pierced Zaimokuza with an icy glare, and I heard a little eep.

See? What part of this looks like idle frivolity to you? This is legitimately terrifying.

Just like the Service Club’s room, the UG Clubroom was in the special building, but on a different floor. Our space was on the fourth floor, and theirs was situated on the second. Their room was smaller than the others on the second floor, enough to be mistaken for a prep room. The décor was precisely what you’d expect of a brand new club: a piece of paper on the door reading UG CLUB in marker.

“Let’s go in, then…” By some twist of fate, we’d all come down here. I looked back at Zaimokuza, Yukinoshita, and Yuigahama.

Zaimokuza answered with a pretentious “Hmm.” Yukinoshita offered neither a response nor any kind of expression. And Yuigahama stood a little ways away with visible unease.

“…Are you coming in?” I asked her, just in case. My impression was that Yuigahama had merely tagged along by force of circumstance. Though she was essentially a member of the club, she hadn’t attended for the past few days, and we didn’t know if she was going to continue, either. If her plan was to gradually disappear, it would probably be better to let her go if she wanted.

“Y-yeah…,” she replied, hugging herself. “I-I’m coming, but…Hikki, you don’t have a girlfriend?” Her question was incredibly random. Look, “but” is a contradictory conjunction. The transition between your clauses doesn’t make sense.

“No, I don’t.”

“What a foolish question, Yuigahama,” Yukinoshita admonished, lightly patting Yuigahama on the shoulder. “This boy could never manage proper interaction with the opposite sex.”

“Leave me alone,” I said. “I don’t need a girlfriend. There’s no greater agony than the theft of one’s time. If a girl woke me up in the middle of the night with some tearful phone call, I know I’d instantly dump her.” I wonder why normies like to expose their painful relationship stories. It’s like how old people boast about their illnesses or how office workers crow about how busy they are. There’s nothing more infuriating than people vaunting their own masochism. What, are you Misawa?

“Whoa. You’re a dick…,” Yuigahama said in disgust. But for some impenetrable reason, her eyes were smiling. “Oh. B-but, like, you went out with Yukinon, didn’t you? What was with that?”

“If you’re referring to the Cat and Dog Show the other day,” Yukinoshita interjected, “we just happened to encounter each other. I was accompanying him and his sister only because Komachi invited me. Didn’t I tell you?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” I said. “Anyway, not like I care, but can we just go in? Zaimokuza has nothing to do, and he’s staring out the window.”

“H-hold on, just hold on for a second,” urged Yuigahama. “So you two aren’t actually going out?”

“Of course not……,” I replied. So she really did assume all that bull. If you paid any attention to our interactions on a day-to-day basis, obviously that would never happen. Get a clue.

“Yuigahama, some things are enough to anger even me, you know.” Yukinoshita emanated an aura of chilly wrath with a countenance of naked displeasure.

“Oh, sorry, sorry! Never mind. S-so…let’s go on in.” Flustered, Yuigahama rushed up to the clubroom. In contrast to Yukinoshita’s grumpy demeanor, Yuigahama rapped on the door with perfect cheer.

A quiet, languid “Hellooo” sounded in response. That probably meant it was okay to enter.

Upon opening the door, what greeted us was a mountain of boxes, books, and packages. They rose up and up like walls or partitioning screens, creating a maze. To envision a similar scene, imagine a bookworm’s study piled high with books crossed with an old-fashioned toy shop.

“Huh? Isn’t this the UG Club?” Yuigahama gaped dumbly as she inspected a nearby box. The somewhat subdued package bore a pattern of skulls and roses. The writing on it was all in English, and it was definitely foreign. “This doesn’t really look game-ish…” Yuigahama’s surprise was reasonable. Usually the term game refers to video games.

“Is that so? This sort of thing is just what I would expect,” said Yukinoshita. “I suppose you were imagining it would be bleep bloopers, weren’t you?”

“Bleep bloopers?” I said. “How old are you? Even my mom calls them Nintendos.”

“But they go bleep bloop, don’t they…?” Yukinoshita remarked, disgruntled.

To my knowledge, games these days do not go bleep bloop.

“Well, you don’t seem like the type to play games, Yukinon.”

“And you do, Yuigahama?” Yukinoshita replied.

“Hmm, my dad likes them, so I do enjoy watching him play. I play them myself sometimes, like Mario Kart or puzzle games like Puyo Puyo. And Animal Crossing or Harvest Moon on the little thingies.”

I presumed by “little thingies” she meant handhelds. “You play more games than I thought,” I said.

Yuigahama turned around to face me and nodded. “Oh y-yeah… You know, like when everyone else is doing it, you just kinda…”

Well, recently some games have begun incorporating elements to make them tools for communication. Some people do enjoy them the way Yuigahama does.

“And then the new FFs and stuff. The graphics are super-pretty and really cool! And they’ll make you cry buckets like a movie! Plus the chocobos are super cute.”

Ptoo. The moment Zaimokuza heard Yuigahama’s explanation, he pretended to spit. Of course, we were indoors, so he didn’t actually spit… He didn’t, right?

Zaimokuza usually never addressed her at all, so when he suddenly snapped, Yuigahama seemed taken aback, or rather, she reacted as one does when confronted with a creeper. “Wh-what? You’re freaking me out…” Frightened, she slipped behind me to conceal herself in my shadow.

Zaimokuza moved in for another strike. “…Filthy casual.”

“Wh-what?!” said Yuigahama. “I dunno what that means, but it’s making me mad…”

“Give it up, Zaimokuza,” I said. “I understand how you feel. But in moments like these, it’s actually best to bask in your own superiority and think to yourself, I’m the only one who really knows, not like this trash.”

“Oh-ho, Hachiman. That’s such a positive perspective.”

“And one that reflects the nadir of human nature…,” Yukinoshita added in exasperation. “Video games… I doubt I’ll ever understand them.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I replied. “I seem to remember there’s a Ginnie the Grue game out.”

“Huh? Ginnie the Grue? Why are we talking about that all of a sudden?” Yuigahama questioned, her expression confused.

Ah, so Yuigahama doesn’t know that Yukinoshita is fond of Grue-bear. Although perhaps words like obsessed or maniacal would be more apt.

“Well, like—”

“Hikigaya, what are you talking about?” Yukinoshita aggressively cut me off.

“Huh? What are you—?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. We’ll discuss this later.” Yukinoshita’s eyes were stern.

“O-okay…” It appeared she really didn’t want her affection for Grue-bear to be public. Why not? Was she embarrassed? If she likes something that much, she should just be proud of it. And, like, what does “We’ll discuss it later” mean? Does she want to know about that game without revealing that she’s a fan of Grue? I don’t get it. I don’t get her standards for shame at all.

Well, there was no need to call attention to it. I don’t exactly enjoy the dissemination of information about things I like, either. Why do elementary schoolers always immediately tell everyone about your crushes?

Yuigahama muttered, “Grue-bear?” curiously. She didn’t seem satisfied.

“So anyway, I wonder where the club members are?” said Yukinoshita.

“Yeah, good point. Someone answered when we knocked…” Yuigahama’s thoughts shifted toward finding these people. Wow, Yukinoshita. You’re seriously a manipulator.

The clubroom was no bigger than a prep room, which was to say not large at all. Only the stacks of boxes and haphazardly arranged bookshelves made it hard to see.

“Fhnph. Backlogs of unplayed games and unread books always pile up the highest in the areas where you spend the most time. Therefore, we’ll easily find them if we head for the highest stack.”

“Oh-ho, Zaimokuza. Wow. But you need to bestow your brilliant insights upon people other than me.” You never talk to anyone but me, and it’s sad, Zaimokuza.

Anyway, we set our sights on the highest tower, as per Zaimokuza’s advice. Though the screen of boxes blocked our view, once we got closer, we could hear voices. We circumnavigated the boxes to discover two boys.

“Sorry for walking in on you guys. There’s something we wanted to talk to you about,” I said.

The two boys, presumably of the UG Club, looked at each other and nodded, then turned back to examine me. Well, this was the first time they’d ever seen me. If an unknown visitor darkens your door out of the blue, I suppose you would look at him like that.

I decided to perform my own inspection, and that was when I observed that their indoor shoes were yellow. Yellow is the first-years’ color. In other words, these two were in the grade below us.

“Hmph! You are first-year lads, I see!” The moment Zaimokuza realized these two were younger than him, his manner swiftly turned pompous.

I had no trouble with his readiness to change his attitude. I despise the oppression of social hierarchies and seniority-based systems, unless I’m the beneficiary. So I hopped up on my high horse along with Zaimokuza. It was just, you know, a negotiation strategy to assume the psychologically superior position. It wasn’t at all because I’m a jerk or anything. “So I heard you kids have been giving Zaimokuza here some cheek, huh?” I said. “Go ahead. Trash-talk him some more.”

“H-huh? H-Hachiemon?!” Zaimokuza implored me silently, but it wasn’t the least bit cute. I mean, even if you are older, you’re waaay below them on the social ladder.

“Stop fooling around and get to the point.” Yukinoshita gave me a cold glare.

When the first-years saw, they whispered to each other surreptitiously. “I-isn’t that Yukinoshita from second year…?”

“I—I think so…”

Whoa, for real? Was Yukinoshita famous? Well, she was good-looking, after all. She also had her distinctive aura of mystery. It was nothing extraordinary for her to have admirers in other grades. When I was in middle school, I knew the names of cute older girls, too. That was the extent of my knowledge, though.

“All right. You two have business with this guy, don’t you?”

But before I could beckon him over, the guy in question shoved his way to the front. “Fwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! ’Tis been a long time! You talked big yesterday, but now the time for regrets is past! I shall now teach you a lesson, as both your elder in life and your elder in school!” Firmly highlighting the “elder” part, Zaimokuza aggressively presented himself.

The UG Club pair, however, received him with all the warmth of a refrigerator. “Hey, is this the guy you were talking with before? Whoa, this is painful.”

“I know, right? He’s so bad it’s hard to believe.” They snickered in a condescending and exceedingly stereotypical manner.

In the end, Zaimokuza was the one shaken up. “Uh, H-Hachiman? D-did I just do something weird?”

“Relax. This isn’t the only time you’ve been weird.”

Zaimokuza had almost entirely broken character.

I pushed him back with a firm pat on the shoulder. “We’re the Service Club. We’re basically like counselors. Zaimokuza said he had a dispute with you, so we came here to resolve it. So, um…who’s the one he fought with?” I asked indifferently.

One of the boys timidly raised his hand. “Oh, that’s me. I’m Hatano, a first-year. And this is…”

“Sagami, also a first-year…”

The one who had introduced himself as Hatano was skinny—and a little on the hunched side. He sported glasses with no frames and sharp corners, perhaps a reflection of his sharp mind and sharp ideas. His friend, also slender, looked like a pasty middle schooler. His glasses were a little more rounded, inspiring the next generation. To be honest, I didn’t have any particular desire to remember their names, so I decided to distinguish them by their glasses.

“I heard you’re going to have a competition with Zaimokuza, but you’re good at fighting games, right? If you guys settle your score that way, it’ll be obvious before the match what the outcome will be. So why not try another kind of competition?” This proposal was absurd, if I do say so myself. It was like approaching a soccer player and suggesting, “Let’s play baseball instead!” This kid was not going to voluntarily relinquish his advantage.

Of course, he indicated that he was not on board with the idea. His lack of head nodding indicated a polite refusal.

“At least make it another game or something. You have so many,” I said, gesturing toward the ramparts around us.

“Well, I guess…”

“Okay, then…” Though their responses were subdued, they oozed confidence. Clearly, they held some assurance in their ability to win. It seemed the name of United Gamers was not for show. “But if we’re switching games, we need to get something in return…,” Hatano said with mild reserve.

Well, they had made one concession for us. It was only natural to put forth their own conditions to even the scales. I nodded and waited for them to continue.

“…Okay, how about Zaimokuza groveling to you? If we lose, I’ll personally take responsibility and force him to say ‘I’m eternally sorry for getting carried away,’ or something,” I suggested. I was sick of waiting, so that was good enough.

“Huh? Me?” Zaimokuza dropped out of character again. You’ve got no right to refuse, though.

“Well, I guess that’s fine…” Mild-mannered as ever, the UG Club accepted those terms.

“Then I’ll let you pick the game. Don’t choose anything too complicated. A newbie can’t do well in a game with a steep learning curve, and that’d make it no different from a fighting game.” In fact, I think the reason fighting games have been going downhill for so long is because it’s hard for new people to get into them. Even if you find one you’d like to try out at an arcade, the regulars like the Guiltybros or fans of even older titles are usually occupying it, and you can’t join in. And even if you do edge your way in, they’ll immediately wreck you, making you swear off playing it anymore. In the future, they should designate a special area for casual gamers.

“Then…we’ll take a game everyone already knows and tweak it a little.”

“Hrrm…do as you will. What is the name of this game?” Zaimokuza asked.

The pair pushed their glasses up their noses. “I’m thinking we’ll play a game called Double Millionaire.” The proposal sounded innocent enough, but their glasses flashed deviously.

The cards slid against each other softly as he shuffled them.

Millionaire is played with a standard deck of playing cards. It’s also known as Beggar or President.

“Um, you know the rules, right?” Hatano asked hesitantly.

I nodded. Yukinoshita was the only one to tilt her head with an invisible question mark floating above it. “I’ve never played it…though I have played poker.”

“Okay. I’ll explain the rules, then.” Sagami provided a brief summary. “One, you deal all the cards to the players equally.”

In reality, such egalitarian distribution isn’t feasible, not even for cards.

“Two, the game starts with the dealer. The dealer for the first round plays the first card from his hand, and after that, everyone takes turns playing their cards on top of it.”

In reality, people forget about my turn and have no qualms about butting in ahead of me.

“Three, the cards are ranked. From lowest to highest, it’s three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, jack, queen, king, ace, two. Jokers are wild.”

In reality, power is determined not by raw ability but rather by affluence and connections.

“Four, the players can only put down a card higher than the one already on the pile. If someone plays a pair, you have to put down a pair.”

In reality, even incompetent weaklings who cannot succeed are sent to the front lines as sacrificial pawns, scapegoats, or a warning to the rest.

“Five, when you have no cards you can play, you’re allowed to pass.”

In reality, there is no passing.

“Six, if all the other players pass, and it goes back around to the player who put down the first card, then that player starts the next pile. All the cards on the first pile are then discarded.”

In reality, you can’t discard the past.

“Seven, repeat the above until someone runs out of cards. That player is the millionaire. Second fastest is the rich man, then the poor man, then the beggar.”

That’s the only part that’s just like real life. What the hell. This is depressing.

“Also, the millionaire can take two good cards from the beggar and exchange them with any two cards from their own hand.”

In other words, this is a microcosm of modern Japan, where the winner has the upper hand and permission to eternally exploit the loser. Ugh, what an awful game.

“I see. I get the idea.” That explanation seemed enough for Yukinoshita since she nodded. As always, she was quick on the uptake.

“Wait, what about local rules?” Zaimokuza asked.

Hatano waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” He had absolutely no respect for Zaimokuza.

“We’ve got a beginner here, too, so why don’t we just go with the most mainstream ones?” I suggested. “Are you okay with the Chiba rules?”

“Um…what are the Chiba rules like?” Sagami asked with some concern.

Huh? He doesn’t know Chiba rules offhand? Whatever. I’ll just explain it.

In Millionaire, it’s fair to say that the local rules are the crux of victory and defeat. There exists a diverse array of local rules you can add to the basic rules, and combining them together can complicate strategy exponentially. “Well, there’s revolution, eight enders, the ten discard rule, three of spades strong, jacks reverse, fleeing the capital, locked cards, staircase style, and joker doesn’t end it. That’s about it.”

“Oh, I think it was like that at my school,” said Yuigahama.

“Hmm. No five skip or seven handover, huh…?” added Zaimokuza.

These rules differ not only by region, but even between elementary schools. Once you’re grown, differences in local rules with Millionaire can even start fights, so it’s best to agree on them from the start. People even argue over what to call the winner and loser of each round. It’s like ‘cops and robbers’ versus ‘jailbreak.’

“Hikigaya, do you mind explaining?”

Oh, whoops. We’d been conversing under the assumption that everyone understood us, but Yukinoshita had never played Millionaire before. So I briefly elaborated on each rule. Under the revolution rule, if you play four cards of the same number, it reverses the ranking of all cards in play. In eight enders, after playing an eight, you discard the whole pile and start a new one. For the ten discard rule, when you play tens, you can remove an additional number of cards from your hand equal to the number of tens you put down. Three of spades strong means the three of spades can beat a joker, and jacks reverse means that when you play a jack, the ranking of the cards is reversed for everyone’s next turn only.

Yukinoshita nodded occasionally as I explained. Well, you can’t truly grasp it if you don’t do it yourself. Practice was probably the fastest way to pick it up.

“We agree to your suggested local rules.”

“So you will accept our Double Millionaire rules.” The pair’s glasses flashed again.

The air hung oddly heavy, and I quietly gulped.

The next moment, both boys had broad smirks on their faces. “The rules are the same as regular Millionaire.”

“The difference is that you play it in pairs.”

“Pairs?” I asked. “So in other words, you and a partner have to decide together?”

The UG Club pair shook their heads in perfect accord. “No. You trade places and take turns putting down cards.”

“You’re not allowed to talk with your partner.”

…That meant the game would require evaluating not only your opponents but also your partner. It was surprisingly strategic… In that case, though, the problem was selecting a partner. I glanced to my side.

“Heh-heh-heh… Don’t presume you can beat my deck.”

I don’t want to team up with Zaimokuza…

“The strongest card is the joker, hmm? I see… Can you play a joker after an eight?” Yukinoshita recited the rules to herself to ensure she understood them. She had a lot of talent, but she’d never played Millionaire before. Plus, divining her thoughts was a formidable task. If her team failed, she’d probably chew out her partner, too.

So, the only remaining option is Yuigahama… She’d played Millionaire before, and she knew the same local rules as me. Most important, she was a relatively straightforward person, so she was easy to read. I looked to Yuigahama, figuring if I needed a partner it might as well be her. Our eyes met at exactly the same moment.

“Y-Yukinon, let’s be a team!” She immediately broke contact and clung to Yukinoshita’s shoulder.

“Huh? Oh, sure,” Yukinoshita replied.

Figures. I had erroneously assumed the choice of my partner was mine to make. It is laughable for one who is never chosen to attempt to choose another.

Now Yukinoshita and Yuigahama were confirmed as a pair, my partner was automatically decided for me. Once again, the leftovers formed an alliance. Zaimokuza also had a wealth of experience with this, as he glided over in front of me and tossed a remark over his shoulder. “Hachiman. Can you keep up?”

…He was more than welcome to leave me behind.

Hatano swept everything off the desk, and Sagami carried in three chairs. Now the stage was set for the battle. For the first round, Sagami, Yuigahama, and I occupied the seats. The rule was that each time we played a hand, we’d trade places with our partner. For the quickest transitions, each partner stood behind each chair. I didn’t know the UG Club’s strategy, but Yuigahama was likely going first because Yukinoshita was unfamiliar with the game.

Sagami finished shuffling the cards and dealt them out one by one. The fifty-four cards were divided into piles of eighteen.

“All right,” Hatano declared. “Let’s begin the Double Beggar competition between the UG Club and the Service Club. This is a five-match competition. The ranking of the players after the final game will determine the victor.”

Each of us picked up our respective hand and fanned it out.

“This is effectively a two-on-one team competition, so we’re going to make the first move…” Though Sagami’s announcement was polite, he played a card from his hand as if his initiative was a given fact. Well, ultimately they were playing against two pairs: me and Zaimokuza, and Yukinoshita and Yuigahama. We would be in the clear if either of our teams won. In fact, the best strategy would be to cooperate throughout the game. Allowing our opponents the initial move was only fair.


The first round ended without incident.

Perhaps all of us were testing the waters because we expended our cards in a reasonable manner.

“Ha-ha-ha-ha! It’s time to d-d-d-duel! Monster card!” Zaimokuza was the only one being obnoxious. “I summon the Ten of Clubs! Once the Ten of Clubs has been successfully summoned, the Card Effect means that I can choose one card from my hand to send to the Graveyard. I set down my fifteen cards, and my turn ends.”

Each familiar-sounding turn of phrase stirred up old memories within me. “Man, I’m getting nostalgic… I used to play against duel bots, too.”

“Duel bots? That’s the first time I’ve heard of this,” Yukinoshita said, looking curious.

“It’s like poker bots. They’re for people without friends.”

“I don’t think that’s what poker bots are for,” she replied.

Oh, is that right? I thought for sure they were just for playing poker by yourself.

“I usually used two decks. I had tons of Miracle of the Zone and Magic cards and stuff, but I didn’t have anyone to play with…” Zaimokuza’s enthusiasm abruptly dampened, and he handed me the cards. Matches are the bread and butter of collectible card games, so they’re no fun without friends to challenge. Although thanks to the Game Boy version, I have a wealth of experience with computer opponents.

Once Zaimokuza had finished being insufferable and shut his mouth, silence enfolded the room. The only sounds came from cards sliding out of hands and slapping onto the pile. We went around the circle a few times in this manner, and the competition continued without incident. Perhaps it was thanks to the ten discard rule and playing triples, but everyone’s cards decreased steadily.

Eventually, Zaimokuza and I had two cards remaining, and Yukinoshita and Yuigahama had three. Remarkably, the UG Club still had five cards left. Despite Double Beggar being their idea, they didn’t appear particularly adept. Their strategy revolved around getting rid of their weakest cards first with no additional stratagems. If this was how they were going to play, this would be an easy win.

Yuigahama played a six of spades, and then I played the eight of hearts I’d been saving. Only one left now.

“Zaimokuza.”

“Aye.”

I laid our last card facedown on the desk and surrendered the seat to him. Zaimokuza plopped down with the declaration, “’Tis my turn!” Yes, we noticed. “Now it ends! Trump Card: Open! …Checkmate!” He triumphantly put down our last card.

Yukinoshita must have been saving a card, too, as she played the two of clubs. The UG Club passed, and she immediately handed her remaining two cards to Yuigahama, who laid down a pair to end the round. Both teams were out, and the Service Club finished in first and second place.

“Fwa-ha-ha! That was pitiful! Did you enjoy tasting my power?!” Zaimokuza roared as if this triumph were entirely his accomplishment. It must be pretty mortifying to have a guy like him lording victory over you, I thought.

But checking the UG Club’s reactions, I saw their expressions were nonchalant. “Oh dear, Hatano, we lost. Oh no.”

“Yeah, Sagami. We were careless.” Despite their words, they didn’t seem cowed in the slightest. In fact, I could have sworn they were enjoying themselves.

Huh? What’re they up to? I peered at the UG Club pair. Something was fishy.

They smirked. “We’re in trouble, huh?”

“Yeah, so much trouble.”

“I mean, if we lose, we have to strip.”

“I mean, if we lose, we have to strip.”

The pair spoke in unison and immediately shucked off their vests as if shedding their disguises. Sure, it looks cool, but that’s pervert behavior, you know.

“What?! What the hell is that rule?!” Yuigahama smacked the desk in protest.

But their smirks only broadened. “Huh? Isn’t it normal to take off your clothes if you lose?”

“Yep, yep. You have to strip if you lose with both mah-jongg and rock-paper-scissors,” his buddy added.

Uh, there’s no strip rule for rock-paper-scissors. The loser only has to go buy the winner juice or something. They were right about mah-jongg, though.

“All right, time for round two…”

“H-hey, hold on! Listen to me!” Yuigahama demanded a halt to the game.

Ignoring her, Hatano swept up the cards and started shuffling. He swiftly dealt.

“Yukinon, let’s go. Going along with this would just be stupid…”

“Would it?” Yukinoshita replied. “I don’t mind the rule, though. We only have to win. Besides, this is a competition. Of course it entails risks.”

“Huh?! B-but I don’t wanna do this!”

“I see no problem. While the variety of local rules in the game can be confusing, as long as the cards are ranked in a fixed order, there’s no change in the fundamental strategy. If we can remember which cards have been played and predict which ones remain in our opponents’ hands, I doubt we’ll lose so easily. I’ve also discovered several methods of achieving victory in the final stages, so it’s not difficult to predict what our opponents will do based on the number of remaining cards in play.”

“M-maybe you’re right, but…unnngh,” Yuigahama groaned, teary eyed. At this point, all she could do was rely on Yukinoshita. As long as the other girl was on board, Yuigahama’s hands were tied.

…Maybe I should try to put a stop to this. I doubt Yukinoshita would listen to me, though.

“Come! Quickly! Let us begin battle now!” While I hesitated over what to do, Zaimokuza sat down and accepted the cards from Hatano.

“All right, let’s get started.” Yukinoshita also picked up the cards spread before her on the desk, fanning them out in her hands in one sweep. Behind her, Yuigahama looked glum.

“First, the card exchange, then.” Hatano took two cards from his hand and passed them over to Zaimokuza.

In Millionaire, from the second round on, the millionaire and the beggar must swap cards. The beggar takes the two strongest cards from his hand, the millionaire takes any two cards from his hand, and they exchange them. The cards we received were a joker and a two of hearts. Good cards.

“Hrrm…” Zaimokuza removed two cards and handed them over with great delight. They were a king of spades and a queen of clubs.

“What?! Hold on, what are you doing?! Why aren’t you handing them bad cards?!” I demanded.

He quietly closed his eyes and replied with dignity, “…’Tis the mercy of a samurai.”

Why you little… Do you just want to see the girls naked?

The UG Club guys accepted the cards from Zaimokuza and smirked.

I—I see… They’re…they’re playing against both guys and girls, so they established the strip rule to invite discord between us. What an advanced psychological tactic!

…These guys are idiots.

I had thought the UG Club were just a couple of fools, but in the second round, their strategy turned so brilliant it was unrecognizable. Fearless of the risks, Hatano played aggressive hands like triples, and Sagami reliably reduced the cards in their hand with skillful use of the card effects. They employed such wildly different tactics each turn, it was impossible to predict what they would do next. In a steady march toward victory, they slowly rid themselves of cards. Before I knew it, they had only two left.

The Yukinoshita/Yuigahama pair and I doggedly held our own, eventually coming to a point where the girls had two cards and us boys had four.

Yuigahama’s right hand wavered. We were near the stage that would decide the victors and the losers, so she was probably contemplating how to win. “I-I’ll go with this.” After some deliberation, she played the card she’d probably been saving as her trump card, the two of clubs.

Fortunately, both of the jokers were in our hand. So the best strategy would be for us to complete the stack so Yukinoshita could play on a new pile and finish. Okay, at this rate, we’ll have no problem, I thought. But then, an ambush came from an unforeseen direction.

“Whoops, my foot slipped!” No sooner had Zaimokuza vigorously toppled against me than a card fluttered onto the table. It was a joker.

“Huh?! Watch it, Snowflake, or I’ll kill you!” Yuigahama threatened as she leaped from her seat with a clatter, but Zaimokuza merely whistled to himself. You think that’s gonna cover up anything?

Zaimokuza triumphantly played the three of spades. Hatano casually put down an eight and discarded the pile. Sagami took over, putting down his last card, the ace of spades, and went out first.

At this point, either me and Zaimokuza or Yukinoshita and Yuigahama would have to strip. There was an ace on the table. With some regret, Yukinoshita passed. My turn came around.

“Hachiman… I have entrusted my…no, our dreams to you.” My shoulder felt warm where he was gripping it. When I looked at his face, he was wearing a calm smile like that of a warrior advancing to his death.

Hey, he hasn’t forgotten that if we lose, he’ll have to grovel to them, has he…?

With Zaimokuza’s passionate hopes weighing on my shoulders, I fanned out my cards. A four of spades and a joker.

Hatano pumped a clenched fist as if he were silently yelling, We’re comrades, aren’t we?!

Sagami quietly lowered his eyes, pressing his hands together silently in prayer. I heard a tiny whisper of “God…” from him.

Had I ever before been entrusted with so many peoples’ hopes? No, I had not. In that moment, I felt those unshakable bonds. My finger brushed the joker. Zaimokuza, awaiting my next action, let out a whoop of joy. That cry made Hatano and Sagami leap from their chairs, eager to burn this crucial moment into their retinas.

I heard a quiet voice. “Ha-chi-man… Ha-chi-man.” It was a tiny, hardly audible little whisper, but before I knew it, it had swelled into a loud cheer. Just like the first-place runner’s return to the stadium during an Olympic marathon, it was a passionate, stirring scene.

But amid that fervor, Yukinoshita was blasting me with enough glacial ire to freeze me solid, and Yuigahama was groaning, her lips pursed into a stock-straight line as she glared at me through her tears.

The UG Club guys and Zaimokuza disregarded them, continuing their cheers of glee.

The room was awash with crazed enthusiasm, confusion, chaos, and passion.

Yet an irresistible impulse bubbled up inside my body, manifest in uncontrollable laughter. “Heh… Bwahhh-ha-ha-ha-ha!” Everyone stopped breathing as I bellowed.

I wonder how many of them heard me whisper “Pass” right after that.

There was a momentary hush.

“Listen up! There’s nothing I despise more than stuff like coed strip games and stupid punishments for losing like you’re at a drinking party with a bunch of idiotic college kids! In fact, I loathe them!”

My voice shook the atmosphere like thunder from the heavens.

Just as the silence returned, I heard a deep, deep exhalation from Yukinoshita. “You’re an idiot. What an idiot…,” she muttered in exasperation.

Next, a rough holler roared through the room. “Hachiman! What are you doing, you fiend?! This is no game!” Zaimokuza seized me by the lapels.

“Calm down, Zaimokuza. You’re right, this isn’t a game.”

“Hmm? That sounds rather cool, but what’s it supposed to mean?” he asked.

I ignored Zaimokuza’s question and shifted my gaze to the side.

“Hey, hey, what’re we gonna do? That guy isn’t joining in…”

“Yeah, he’s seriously not picking up on the vibe here…” 

Hatano and Sagami exchanged whispers.

“Too bad for you,” I said, “but I’m bad at joining in and I’m atrocious at picking up on vibes, so your tricks won’t work on me.”

“H-Hachiman…what do you mean, ‘tricks’?!” Zaimokuza stuttered.

“The strip rule isn’t because they want to see us get naked,” I explained. “It’s a psychological tactic. They’re using the fact that we’re on gender-segregated teams to split us apart.” Yes, by shackling us with the manacles of a strip rule, they had nurtured a smidgen of doubt between the Hikigaya/Zaimokuza pair and the Yukinoshita/Yuigahama pair. There were two levels to their plan. If us guys betrayed the girls, it would create an advantage for them. Even if we didn’t, they would only need to break the trust between teammates, and once the pressure caused us to make a mistake, they’d reap the benefits.

“I—I see…ah…ha! Now that you mention it, I’ve heard of this kind of tactic before! The secret technique of the siren… They use 3D women as bait while they employ their witchcraft upon you in order to invite insurrection! It is known as…the honeypot! Heh, that was a close one. 3D really is pig disgusting, after all!”

“Oh. Yeah. Well, that’s close enough, so whatever.” Plenty of adults have gotten caught in honeypots after all.

In any case, if things went on like this, the UG Club’s scheme would have Yukinoshita and Yuigahama drowning in their suspicions while Zaimokuza and I would likely struggle to even communicate. And if Yuigahama and Yukinoshita were to pull out of the game, the Service Club would lose, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. To think the UG Club had plotted to sow discord not only within the Service Club, but also each pair… They were fearsome indeed.

But their scheme was over now. I fixed Hatano with a narrow glare. “You also tried to use mob mentality by getting us all riled up, weren’t you?”

“Ngh. So you noticed.”

“You looked so blandly typical at first glance, I thought we could easily get you on board…” Ouch, Sagami. That was kinda mean.

I swung an index finger toward the UG Club and forcefully declared, “Mob psychology doesn’t work on me…because the mob always excludes me!”

“…”

“…” 

Hatano and Sagami quietly averted their eyes, smiling uncomfortably. I guess you’d call that half pity and half sympathy. Ultimately, they clearly regarded me as an abject human being.

Ahem. “Anyway. That won’t work anymore,” I said, clearing my throat to sidestep the awkwardness.

The two UG Club boys looked at each other… “I see. It seems we must get serious.”

“Prepare yourselves… Playtime is over,” he announced with a low chuckle.

I shuddered. They’re called the United Gamers, though…and now they say they’re going to stop playing?

The UG Club guys weren’t kidding when they announced they’d play seriously. They fired off a steady barrage of plays even sharper and dirtier than round two, cornering us in a relentless fight. They leveraged their initial advantage of being the Millionaires and clobbered us with high-ranking cards like jokers and twos at crucial junctures. We lost the third and fourth rounds. Having already shed my socks and dress shirt, I reluctantly put my hand to my pants. I was at my final line of defense: my favorite pair of undies.

“Fsheh. So I must finally remove this coat…” Beside me, Zaimokuza began sloughing off his coat, seeming very grumpy about it. So far, he had removed his socks, fingerless gloves, and wrist weights. His pants and dress shirt were totally untouched.

…Why does this feel so unfair? Why am I the only one in my underwear? “Damn it…” A little teary, I slid off my pants as modestly as I could.

I suddenly sensed eyes on me, and when I searched for the source, I found Yuigahama’s. She looked despondent and apologetic.

“…Hey. Don’t watch. Or are you interested?”

“Wh-what?! I-I’m not watching at all! Like hell I’d be interested! Don’t be stupid!” she yelled with all her might as she slapped the table. Hey, you don’t have to get all purple and angry. It’s a joke. Really. Yuigahama threatened me with a snort, but her aggression gradually diminished, and she eventually lowered her gaze to the floor. “…Um, Sorry. Thanks.”

“Not like I did anything… No reason for you to be thanking me. I’m just doing what I want.”

“Hrrm. Not that it matters to me, but when you say such things whilst so unclothed, you look like a defiant pervert,” Zaimokuza said with a half smile.

You’re the last one to talk, you jackass…

Oh, I almost forgot to mention— Once I started stripping, dear Yukinoshita began to pretend I wasn’t there. She didn’t spare me a glance and just completely ignored me. I expected no less.

The cards were dealt for the fifth round. I had only one life left: my boxers. In other words, this was a battle I absolutely could not afford to lose. This was not to be confused with the battles that characters on TV absolutely cannot afford to lose and, for some reason, do so surprisingly often.

“All right… We’re gonna win this…” My instincts were focusing, my body overflowing with determination.

“Pfssh! Says the guy in his underwear trying to play it cool!” Zaimokuza burst into laughter.

When I surveyed the rest of the group, both the UG Club guys and Yuigahama were desperately trying to restrain their laughter. Upon closer inspection, even Yukinoshita’s shoulders were trembling.

You guys are awful. “Hey, Zaimokuza…” Unsurprisingly, rage welled up within me. The corners of my mouth twitched.

Apparently, Zaimokuza realized how angry I was, as he affectedly cleared his throat with a hom-hom. “Calm down now, Hachiman. Games are something to be enjoyed. Relax.”

“Why, you…” He’s talking like he’s the reasonable one here?! But just before I could give him a piece of my mind—no, five pieces—a sigh stopped me.

“I see. So that’s how you view games. Hmm.” It took me a moment to realize it was Hatano who had spoken. His manner now was clearly different from his timid impression from early. Now he had a transparently aggressive edge.

“That’s like…how should I put it? It’s a…certain uninitiated perspective? Well, it’s not a bad thing in and of itself, but to stay at that level is a little…lacking.” Sagami took over. The way he spoke was both circumlocutory and arrogant.

“Ngh…” Zaimokuza started to say something, but in the face of the pair’s attitudes, he stopped. They both wore blatant contempt.

Hatano snorted. “Well, whatever. It’s over now, anyway.”

“Let’s begin the final match,” his partner added.

“Y-yeah,” I agreed.

In accordance with Sagami’s direction, each of us took our places on the battlefield. Zaimokuza had the initial move. First, he had to exchange cards with the UG Club.

As Hatano selected his cards, it looked as if he were also searching for a remark to toss in our direction. He plucked two cards from his hand and flung them at us. As Zaimokuza reached out to add the cards to his hand, Hatano followed up with his question. “…Why do you want to make games, Master Swordsman?” Maybe this “Master Swordsman” was the alias Zaimokuza used at the arcade. All I heard was Master (LOL) Swordsman, though.

Zaimokuza forgot to pick up the cards in front of him as he took two cards from his own hand and slid them across the table. “Hrrm. Because I like them. I think it’s obvious to turn what you like into a career. As a regular employee at a game company, I’d have a stable lifestyle, too.” He said this in a placid manner, but the last bit illuminated his true intentions.

“Ha! Because you like them, huh? There’re a lot of people like that lately, who think that’s enough to pull it off. So you’re one of them, eh, Master Swordsman?”

“What are you trying to say?” I guess that got his goat, as Zaimokuza slammed down his first move, a pair. He scraped his chair back roughly and stood, handing me the cards.

Yukinoshita added another pair to the pile.

“You’re just using your dreams as an excuse to escape from reality,” our opponent continued.

“Wh-what basis do you have…?” Zaimokuza stopped there, at a loss for words.

Sagami took the silence as a cue to toss another couple of cards onto the stack.

I fanned out my hand. In the opening stages of this game, if you have to follow up on a pair, it’s a good chance to get rid of some cards. As I deliberated, I studied the fourteen cards.

…Fourteen?

Noticing that I was short, I peeked under the desk, thinking I must have dropped some. And indeed, two cards had fallen. The cards that Zaimokuza had forgotten to add to our hand had apparently dropped down there when he had shaken the table a moment ago. I picked up the cards and added them to my stock. They were a four of diamonds…and the fourth six. I could go for a revolution.

But I had to save it for a while. If I went for it, I’d have to do it after midgame and when we were the first player on a pile. After some approximate mental calculations, I placed a pair on the stack of gradually rising numbers. Yuigahama and Hatano continued the trend. Two aces, huh…? It didn’t look like anyone could play on that. After two passes, the players switched with their partners, and Sagami put down a card.

“Master Swordsman, you’re shallow. And I’m not talking about what I said before, your uninitiated perspective, but rather the fact that you never go past that point. You just graze the surface, giggling to yourself all the while.”

Oh-ho, nice one. Let him have it, Sagami. I almost wanted to cheer the guy on. Yukinoshita also nodded wordlessly in agreement.

“Nghhhh!” Zaimokuza handed the cards to me to restrain himself from responding. I accepted them and played the next number in the sequence with no fanfare. I guess Sagami’s remark had hit Zaimokuza hard, as he stopped yelling and pretending to duel like he had been.

Yukinoshita played next, and Hatano glanced at the card she’d put down with a cold smile. “Attempting to create a game when you don’t even know what games are is just laughable. A lot of young game designers are like that lately… They try to make a product even though all they’ve ever played are video games. Their ideas are uninspired, and they lack innovation. They haven’t cultivated the proper soil in which to grow original ideas. You can’t make video games just because you like them.” He emphatically slapped his next play onto the table.

“Nghh.” Zaimokuza’s moan rang through the room.

A few turns went by, and the game progressed to the UG Club’s advantage. When it was Zaimokuza’s turn again and he faltered, unable to choose a card, Sagami spoke. “Master Swordsman, you have no skills or anything you can take pride in, no? Games are just your security blanket,” he taunted.

There was nothing Zaimokuza could say to that. He just handed me the cards with frustration and silently passed.

I accepted the cards from him and took my seat. Sagami’s accusation really stuck with me. As for why, his reveling in tearing down a deluded M-2 type was disheartening and uncomfortable. It hurt to watch, like he was a weary adult on a tirade about drumming the harsh realities of the world into a kid with dreams.

I passed, and the UG Club got to play the first card in the new pile. Hatano very slowly drew one, two, three cards. Of course, we had just passed, so there was no way we could play on them. Yukinoshita also passed.

“By the way, Master Swordsman, what’s your favorite movie?”

“Hmm, let me see. Magic—”

“Whoops, not counting anime.”

“Ngwah?!” Once anime was no longer an option, Zaimokuza had nothing. Oh-ho, nicely done, painting him into a corner. …But if anime didn’t count, I couldn’t really think of anything, either. If I had to pick one, I’d say The Professional. I’d like to take in a young girl, too.

As if mocking the tongue-tied Zaimokuza, Sagami swept the kings off to the side and played a new card. “See? You can’t come up with one, can you? What about your favorite book, then?”

“…Hmm, among recent ones, My Girlfrie—”

“Aside from light novels.”

“Oof!” The interruption came so abruptly Zaimokuza bit his tongue—hard. He theatrically flung his head back to face the ceiling and did not move from there, as if he’d just taken a heavy uppercut. He was still standing, but only barely. Utterly debilitated, he swayed on the spot. Are you one of those hypersensitive kids these days who can’t take criticism or what?

The UG Club pair sneered at Zaimokuza’s state. “In the end, you’re a fraud. You don’t understand the essence of entertainment. We’re actually studying the origins of gaming and entertainment from the ground up. It’s embarrassing to watch a half-assed guy like you declaring he’s going to write games.” As Hatano said, the clubroom was indeed overflowing with an assortment of entertainment. Given the stacks of boxes packed with board games and the scattered dice, probably for tabletop RPGs, the two UG Club guys obviously took their hobby seriously.

On the other hand, Zaimokuza would never do anything like that. All he did was oink away at moeblobs… He had no chance of winning here. His loss was warranted. Of course he needed to be put in his place.

But still, it rubbed me the wrong way. I didn’t really care if Zaimokuza was the butt of ridicule. I couldn’t argue with their dismissal of him. But there was something undeniably off about their arguments. I just couldn’t pin down why exactly they annoyed me.

We were approaching the finish line. The UG Club had five cards remaining, Yukinoshita’s team had six, and we had eight. Though their lead was numerically small, the quality of their cards was unquestionably superior. The UG Club had the joker we had given them. The further we progressed into late game, the more the inequalities set in the early game would influence our strategies.

Yuigahama judged that it was time to make her move and silently confirmed with Yukinoshita before laying down a triple. Of course, at this point in the game, nobody could play on that.

Yukinoshita took over and sat in their chair. “I’ve heard both sides speak, and the UG Club’s argument holds water. Hikigaya, if you want what’s best for Zai…Zai…him, you should guide him down the right path.” Yukinoshita started a new pile, smiling as if she were testing me, and the UG Club continued after her.

Well, she was right. If Zaimokuza was serious about his aspirations to be a game writer or a light-novel author, he should make a proper effort instead of dribbling his delusions onto paper and declaring the ensuing scribbles “the best plot ever that I just came up with.” He could be spending his time studying the scriptwriting in Hollywood movies or copying down eminent works. I think Hatano’s and Sagami’s efforts were honestly praiseworthy, and Zaimokuza’s laziness undoubtedly did deserve criticism.

But that’s not… That alone isn’t necessarily right. I believe extolling the “right” way to do things is what’s truly lazy. Following the textbooks, completing the curriculum, fulfilling the quota… Isn’t that just playing it by the book and sticking to tradition? Isn’t that merely leaning on the achievements of the ones who came before you, relying on their authority, and painting over your own identity before you’ve even made something of yourself? What’s so praiseworthy about entrusting your sense of what’s right to someone else?

“I don’t think the UG Club’s method is necessarily correct,” I said. “…Oh, but it doesn’t take much thought to know Zaimokuza is in the wrong, though.”

“I see,” replied Yukinoshita. “Well, you’re his friend, so if that’s your opinion, perhaps you’re right.”

“We’re not friends.” If we were, I’d probably be taking his side right now.

But this won’t click for an idiot like Zaimokuza until he’s compelled to dig his grave with his own two hands. Nothing I could say would matter. A loser of Zaimokuza’s caliber will even blame other people for the very things that forced him to give up. If he was going to be like that anyway, he might as well taste vicious defeat before he wholly, utterly desists.

“You know…,” Yuigahama said quietly, slightly embarrassed, “I don’t really get games, and I don’t know a lot about them, but…”

No one else said a word. Slowly but surely, her earnestness attracted the attention of every person in the room. I waited for her to continue.

Yuigahama had been fixated on the cards in her hands, but she quietly raised her head and looked me square in the eye. “Even if you didn’t start out right, and even if you didn’t do everything you could… If you’re sincere and not fake about it… I don’t think it’s wrong to have that kind of…affection.”

I wonder who she’s talking about.

As that thought crossed my mind, I heard the scrape of Zaimokuza’s shoes against the floor as he shifted. “…Yeah. You’re right,” he admitted. “…And it’s true. I don’t have anything to be proud of.” His words carried none of his typical contrived bombast. His voice was trembling so violently it was pathetic, but while he stuttered, he absolutely did not stop. “That’s why I’m staking everything on this. What’s so weird about that? Aren’t you guys the same?!” Zaimokuza wailed, sniffling, shoulders trembling. His breaths were ragged, and his watery glare was unmistakably that of a defeated man.

Hatano and Sagami regarded Zaimokuza and his pitiful state with revulsion. Perhaps they detested not only Zaimokuza but their former selves, too.

I was sure they also loved games. They had dreams. But dreams are too heavy to bear on your own. As you mature, you discover the realities of your future and your inability to chase down the impossible. You learn about your maximum monthly salary of two hundred thousand yen pretax, the tragically low employment rate of alumni from prestigious universities, the annual suicide rate, rising taxes, and unreliable pensions that offer no return even after you’ve paid into them.

You constantly absorb facts like these. Any reasonably mature teen would figure them out. Everyone jokes around like, “Get a job and you lose,” but that statement isn’t necessarily untrue. In this world, the pursuit of dreams leads to a life so painful and frustrating the mere thought of it is enough to merit a sigh.

Passion alone wasn’t enough. That was why these guys compensated. They educated themselves, compared themselves to the dreamers, and comforted themselves by saying, No, we’re different.

They didn’t want to give up, no matter what. How dare Zaimokuza defy their choices?

“…You don’t know a thing about real life. It’s nothing like your ideals.”

“I’ve known about real life for a long time!” cried Zaimokuza. “My friend from the arcade who always posted about how he was going to be a writer got a regular office job! I know another guy who bragged that he got to second-stage applications, and now he’s a NEET! I know about real life…” Zaimokuza’s fist was clenched in the air, tightly, like his nails might break the skin. “When I talk about becoming a light-novel writer, I know ninty-nine percent of people who hear it are thinking, Don’t waste your time dreaming about that crap or Open your eyes to reality, kid, and snickering on the inside. But still, I…”

…Of course. We know reality.

We know terrorists won’t suddenly invade our classrooms and zombies won’t infest the city while we barricade ourselves in a hardware store. When a normal person hears your plans to write games or light novels, to them, it’s just as absurd as those stupid fantasies. Nobody’s going to sincerely attempt to support you or stop you. Even if you’re serious when you explain, nobody will take you seriously. Thus, you eventually cave and sneer at the people with their heads still in the clouds and at yourself for ever having dreamed. You laugh to hide the truth.

So why could Zaimokuza—crying, sniffling, voice trembling—keep talking about his dreams?

“I’m certain now… Even if I can’t be an author or a game writer…even so, I’m going to keep writing. I don’t love writing because I want to be a writer! I want to become a writer…because I love writing!”

I honestly envied him. I envied the artless, foolish honesty in his ability to justify his path with the words because I love it with no doubts, no pessimism. How irrational can you get? He was so ridiculously straightforward it was noble, even.

The strength it took to announce honestly that he loved something was nearly too much for me. I’d taken the pure-hearted innocence necessary to make such a declaration with conviction, devoid of any pretense or irony, and I’d locked it away.

So if—if Zaimokuza—if we could win this match, I’d be willing to take a chance on believing in him.

I wouldn’t if we lost, though.

“…Zaimokuza. It’s your turn.” I pushed the fistful of cards at Zaimokuza.

He pressed his hand to his chest as if to find his heartbeat before he accepted the cards and stepped forward to sit in the chair. “…No matter what you say to me now, I’m not giving up,” he murmured at a lower pitch than usual as he passed me by.

Stop that. You’re gonna leave that cool remark ringing in my ears.

He inhaled deeply, calming his shaking, tearful voice. “…Phew. Apologies for the wait. Let us settle this duel.” We had eight cards left. A jack of spades, an eight of clubs, a three of hearts, and a four of diamonds…and all four sixes. “Eat this! Infinity Doom!” The card zipped from his hand and slammed down as Zaimokuza supplied his own sound effect. “Bam!”

Oh, I get it. The number eight on its side is an infinity sign, and the “doom” is because it’s an eight ender.

“Hachiman,” he began.

But before he could give me advice along with our hand, I stopped him. You don’t need to finish. I know.

I took the seat and fanned out the cards. If we were going to use them, now was the time. We could use this move precisely because we’d been on a losing streak, because of our ongoing weakness, and because we had not succumbed. Was it willpower? Perseverance? Spiritual fortitude? Keeping your nose to the grindstone?

It was none of those. I’d been trying for this from the very beginning. No loss up until now had been a defeat. Those paltry defeats here and there were merely the foundation for our success. Defeat isn’t defeat until you acknowledge it as such.

The man at my back would surely deny his losses until the bitter end. Ergo, he was closer to victory than anyone. Even if every avenue is cut off, and his hopes come to nothing, so long as he can raise a noble cry, so long as he can remain on his feet with nothing to lean on but his own pure will…

…then he will do so, and he will call it his dream.

Such an illusion, the kind no one else can hinder, is precious. Thus, only a handful of people can attain that rare reality.

The whole situation sent an involuntary shiver through me. This really felt like the climax. I was only half aware as the line I’d so longed to say fell from my lips. “I won’t. Will you?”

“No. I won’t,” he replied.

As if on cue, the two of us stood back-to-back and spoke as one. “We’re not gonna lose today!” I grabbed the four cards and slammed them on the table.

“The End of Genesis, T.M.R.evolution Type-D!”

Shut up, Zaimokuza. Just “revolution” is fine. Why did that sound so cool? You’ll convince me you actually have talent.

Yuigahama gave a strained smile, and Yukinoshita let out a sigh that resembled a scoff. Shrugging her shoulders, she said, “Pass.”

Hatano and Sagami eyed Zaimokuza bitterly, as if something had lodged in their throats. No surprise there. I mean, way back when, they must have played around like that, too. But eventually, they had come to a number of realizations, and mere affection for games ceased to be enough. So they had sought out excuses. Perhaps that instant of hesitation was over choosing a card, or perhaps it was over the path they’d walked. “Pass…”

 

 

 

 

“Well done, Hachiman. Leave the rest to me.” Unable to hide his excitement, Zaimokuza snatched the cards from me with a smile.

“Sword of the Knave! Reverse Mode!” The name was supercool, but as you can guess, it was just a jack of spades.

“Hey, wait! You moron! The jacks reverse rule nullifies revolution!” If you use jacks reverse when revolution is in effect, then of course, it reverses again. In other words, since the opposite of opposition is approval, in this situation, the jack makes the number order normal. What we should have done was play a low number to get rid of it.

“Huh? …Ah!” Zaimokuza’s eyes widened, and he blinked, finally realizing his own error. What a dick. He had just been concentrating on how good it felt to yell out his moves… 

He was a total reject after all. We’d declared we were going to win, but that wasn’t going to happen now. Zaimokuza doesn’t have a Zetsuei, and I’m no Shell Bullet.

Yuigahama waffled for a bit, then chose to pass, and Sagami instantly followed with a two of spades. Since the UG Club had the joker, there was nothing the rest of us could play to beat that.

Hatano and Sagami looked at each other and let out a pair of deep sighs. The UG Club pair started a new pile, and revolution resumed. They had three remaining cards. Our side had two cards each, but now that they controlled how the pile began, I had no doubt they would come up with a winning strategy. “Well, I respect your enthusiasm, Master Swordsman,” Hatano said, grasping two cards between his fingers. “But this is reality.” He raised his pair of cards as if to swing Death’s scythe.

So we’re not gonna make it, huh…? If Zaimokuza hadn’t made that stupid mistake, we could have won. But there’s no point in saying that now. There’s nothing else to be done… We’re going to have to strip.

But right as I imagined my fate, Yukinoshita, who had been silent the whole time, spoke. “You got me… No matter how I do the math, there’s no way I can win,” she moaned as she pressed a hand to her forehead.

Hatano must have been surprised to hear her, as he stopped short.

“Huh? How can you tell, Yukinon?” asked Yuigahama.

“You can tell if you count all the cards in play, can’t you?” replied Yukinoshita. “And then if you subtract our cards, you can deduce what’s in your opponents’ hand, right? Plus, there’s the card exchange between the millionaire and the beggar. The UG Club took the highest cards this round, so it wasn’t difficult to pick them out.”

“Are you the computer grandma or what…?” Yeah, I’ll just memorize every card that’s been played! was a method I’d thought up way back in elementary school, but no one can actually do that. Memorizing the cards is hard enough without having to concoct your strategy at the same time. Plus, when you get swept up in the thrill of the game, you stop caring. At most, you can pin down the twos and jokers.

…Actually, maybe she’s just an idiot.

“The UG Club will use their joker as an eight for an eight ender and finish off with the seven of diamonds. Hikigaya and his partner hold the three of hearts and a four of diamonds. Our loss is definitive,” Yukinoshita said, sounding irritated as she set her cards on the table and stood.

Wait, you seriously know what cards we’re holding? Are you an Alter user?

Yukinoshita bit her lip in frustration, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she put her hands to the hem of her summer vest. Her fingers trembled with humiliation, and she couldn’t quite grasp it. The sight made me anxious. Huffing a short sigh through clenched teeth, Yukinoshita steadied her slim, long fingers and squeezed the hem tight. Slowly lifting it up, she began exposing the blouse hidden underneath it. Her smooth, white porcelain skin softly peeked through the gaps between the buttons.

Whether I liked it or not, my eyes couldn’t resist her. Well, I did like it, though. I gulped. That was when I heard rustling.

What? Stop being so loud. Shut up, I’ll miss this, I thought, glaring at the source in time to see Hatano let a single joker fall onto the table. But apparently, he didn’t have time to worry about that right now, either. He apologized, saying, “Sorry,” but he immediately went back to ogling Yukinoshita and didn’t even pick up the card… Geez.

 

 

 

 

Seriously, be more careful. Now then…, I thought, returning to the scene at hand, but my vision was totally obscured.

“Stop right there. Okay, that’s enough.” A girl’s distinctively soft hands were covering my eyelids. When I gently removed them, I saw Yuigahama scowling at me like I was utter trash.

“What?” I asked.

But Yuigahama sullenly chose not to reply. She jerked her head away, her bun wagging at me in displeasure. “Yukinon. You don’t have to strip, you know?” Yuigahama squeezed Yukinoshita’s hands in her own, stopping her from undressing.

Yukinoshita slowly relaxed the tension that had made her stiff. She gave Yuigahama’s hands a weak squeeze in return. “…Rules are rules. I feel bad for dragging you into this, though.”

“Oh, that’s not what I mean. We can win this,” Yuigahama said, snatching their cards off the desk. “Here. The three of spades.”

Hatano had just dropped a card onto the pile, face-up.

“Geh!” Sagami’s ejaculation of surprise resembled something out of Mitsuteru Yokoyama’s Romance of the Three Kingdoms.

“Geh!” His partner Hatano’s shocked expression could have come straight out of Ultimate Muscle.

The three of spades. Normally, it was one of the lowest-ranking cards, a three. But under our special rules, it was the only card that could top the wild card, the joker. What’s more, now that revolution was in effect, the three was the highest-ranking card. In this game of Beggar that so mirrored modern society, it offered a glimmer of hope, albeit fleeting.

“Here, Yukinon.” Yuigahama cheerfully handed a dumbfounded Yukinoshita their final card. Yukinoshita shyly accepted it along with Yuigahama’s little smile, and thus the goddess of victory smiled upon their queen. The light of the setting sun shone into the clubroom, casting a tiny victory pose in silhouette.

These moments of victory were all too brief. While the taste, such as it was, still lingered on our tongues, I spoke to the UG Club. “It’s not about hating or loving the game, or having the knowledge or not. Life is just…a game of chance.”

Whether or not your dreams come true is up to luck, as is victory and defeat. Source: Tottemo! Luckyman. What the hell, man, the difficulty on this game is ridiculous. Anyway, whether or not Zaimokuza’s dreams would come true would also boil down to luck, I suppose.

I sighed and admonished Zaimokuza and the Service Club with my smile. “Don’t you think it’s too early to be giving up on or rejecting dreams?”

“Hikigaya,” said Yukinoshita. “Put on some clothes already.”

A lukewarm breeze was blowing through the open hallway when we left the UG Clubroom. Maybe it was due to stewing in anxiety for so long, but my shoulders were particularly stiff. Putting a hand to my shoulder, I twisted my neck until it made a nice cracking sound. Beside me, Yuigahama stretched high with a groan, and Yukinoshita stifled a small yawn.

“Um, I’m sorry.”

“For laughing and stuff.” Hatano and Sagami quietly bowed their heads with contrite expressions. The fact that they were apologizing was perhaps proof that their hearts had been in the right place. It had to be why they couldn’t hold back their remarks when they’d first heard Zaimokuza pontificating about his delusions. In a way, they were the only ones who had taken Zaimokuza seriously when he’d talked about his dreams. If they had not done so, they would never have considered criticizing him.

Oh, I’m not like them, though. I believe from the bottom of my heart that Zaimokuza is scum and reject him entirely.

“Mm-huh? …Fwa-ha-ha-ha! So long as you understand! Come now, just you wait a few years. I shall send my stunning Yoshiteru Zaimokuza Presents video game out into the world!” Obnoxiously enough, Zaimokuza’s head had swelled even larger.

But the UG Club boys were willing to excuse it with a smile. “Yeah. We’ll be looking forward to your game, Master Swordsman.”

“Well, the company will own the copyright, so it won’t really be yours.”

Zaimokuza’s laughter instantly faded. “Wh-wha—? Wh-what do you mean?” he stammered.

Hatano and Sagami looked at each other before launching into a detailed explanation. “Products from a company generally become the intellectual property of that company.”

“With stuff like games, the joint copyright goes to the company.”

“It depends on your contract, but I believe writers are often work-for-hire.”

“Under work-for-hire, no matter how successful the property is, you won’t receive any compensation beyond your initial payment.”

“S-seriously?!” Zaimokuza dropped his bag with a thud. “Th-then…maybe I won’t… Yeah, screw that.”

What a tool… He snapped right back to talking like the real Zaimokuza… I…I wanna deck him…

Fearing my fist might connect with Zaimokuza’s temple at any moment, I desperately restrained myself. The UG Club boys only smiled awkwardly, as pity had eclipsed their frustration.

“Nghh. If my share is minuscule even if I write a big hit, then there’s no point. Being a light-novel author was the better idea after all! My, my, now that I’ve decided, there’s no time to waste! I must be getting started on my plot outline…,” Zaimokuza said, picking up his bag. Arms still crossed, he began briskly striding away. “We must part, Hachiman! Fare thee well!”

I replied with only a flip of my hand, shooing him away. He waved back, beaming with joy.

That was…the biggest waste of time the Service Club has engaged in since its inception.

“He’s kinda weird,” Hatano said with a sigh.

“I know, right? Nothing good comes of getting involved with that,” I replied.

“Uh, you guys are pretty weird, too, though.” This time it was Sagami who spoke, and his expression was rather frosty.

“Huh? Hey, how can you say that? I’m as commonsense as they come!”

“In what culture is your attitude considered commonsense? Associating with a freak like you is utterly exhausting,” quipped Yukinoshita.

“Uh, but you’re sorta odd too, Yukinon…,” Yuigahama coolly fired back, then looked at Yukinoshita and followed up with an uncomfortable ta-ha-ha.

But Yukinoshita didn’t seem particularly offended, and a gentle smile appeared on her face. “Indeed. It seems both Hikigaya and I are somewhat abnormal…so it’s good to have a normal person like you around.” Illuminated in the fading light, Yukinoshita’s cheeks flushed a faint crimson.

Yuigahama gaped at her in a daze, her mouth slowly curving into an expression of joy. Her eyes grew slightly moist as she latched onto Yukinoshita’s arm and squeezed. “…Y-yeah!”

“You’re smothering me…,” Yukinoshita muttered quietly, but she made no attempt to untangle herself.

“Let’s just go back to the clubroom,” I suggested, starting to walk there. Yukinoshita and Yuigahama trailed a few steps behind.

Well, for now I’ll assume they’ve made up…



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