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2

No matter what you do, you can’t escape Shizuka Hiratsuka.

The cicadas were so loud in the mornings.

Someone had left the TV on, and the news was heralding the biggest heat wave of the summer or whatever. Don’t you guys say that every day? It’s like those outstandingly talented people who you only encounter once a decade and yet somehow appear every year.

Grumpy from the heat, I switched off the TV, sank into the sofa, and turned on my handheld console. That day was another one frittered away lying around inside. Komachi was studying in her room, so I was alone in the living room. It had been less than two weeks since the start of summer vacation. I lived out each day the same way I did every summer. I’d sleep until noon, watch Pet Encyclopedia, watch Summer Vacation Kids’ Anime Festa, go out to the bookstore when the urge struck me, and in the evening I’d read or play games and study. I liked this lifestyle.

Summer vacation. For a loner, this time is our sanctuary. No, not an angel sanctuary. I can laze around for the whole day without causing trouble for anyone. Well, now that I think about it, I never get involved with people in the first place, so I don’t normally create inconveniences anyway. I’m such a good boy.

Anyway, during summer vacation, nobody can tie me down. Yes, I am free. In English, the word can also mean “freedom.” Like the Gundam. I am…we are Gundam. I don’t have to do anything. It’s great. It means that the world I live in is content. I wonder why it felt so nasty when I was at a part-time job and they were like, Agh, just don’t do anything. That stung. It hurt so much, I quit.

Now that I think of it, it’s been a long time since I last had a job. Before I joined the Service Club, I’d worked part-time here and there, but…most of the time at those places, all the interpersonal relationships were already in place when I showed up, so I couldn’t squeeze in, and then I ended up quitting within about three months. After last time, I was too embarrassed to go return the uniform, so I mailed it to them, cash on delivery. Anyway, come to think of it, I realized the Service Club was robbing me of considerable time. But they held no power over my summer vacation! Fwa-ha-ha-ha!

As I loudly cackled to myself, my phone chirped. Another delivery notice from Amazon? Has my package been shipped from the warehouse in Ichikawa city, Chiba prefecture? I wondered, picking up the phone from where I’d left it on the table. When I checked the screen, I had one e-mail. The sender was Miss Hiratsuka.

I turned off the screen.

Phew, that’s that… Now all I had to do was send her a late-night reply to the tune of Sorryyyy, my battery ran out or I think I was out of range! She would be unable to respond. Source: me. When I was in middle school, every time I screwed up my courage and e-mailed a girl, about 40 percent of the time she’d answer with something similar. By the way, about 30 percent just didn’t reply at all, and the remaining 30 percent were from some foreigner named Mailer Daemon. Nothing good comes of making an effort.

With a sense of accomplishment, I returned to the sofa and picked up the handheld that I’d put into sleep mode. It’s nice; just about all handhelds can sleep these days, it seems. They allow you to make the best use of your time. The problem is that if you get one that’s too newfangled, it’ll have all these incomprehensible functions, and that’s not even getting into the connectivity. And when they start talking about “playing with the rear touch panel,” it doesn’t even make sense. It just sounds dirty.

My phone rang again.

What, which burgers do they have a special deal on now? I thought, going to get my phone. But this time, the ring persisted for an oddly lengthy interval. Apparently, I was receiving a phone call. Considering when the e-mail arrived, it was probably Miss Hiratsuka. I doubt many people would be horribly pleased to get a call from their teacher. Of course, I wasn’t, either. Plus, now that I had ignored her once, she could chew me out for that if I picked up now. I chose to disregard the call as well. Eventually, she gave up, as the ringing stopped short. But my relief was only momentary, and this time, I started getting a bunch of rapid-fire e-mails.

What the hell? I’m scared. Is she like this with her boyfriends, too? There were so many. I was filled with trepidation as I opened my phone. I read the e-mail at the top of the folder—that is to say, the newest one.

Sender: Shizuka Hiratsuka

Subject: This is Shizuka Hiratsuka. Once you’ve checked your mail, please reply.

Body: Hikigaya, I have an urgent message for you regarding Service Club activities during summer vacation. Please return my messages. Are you still sleeping? (haha) I’ve been texting and calling you over and over. You’ve actually read them, haven’t you?

Hey, you’ve read them, right?    Answer your phone

That’s scary! You’re scary! I’m slightly traumatized here! I felt like I’d just gotten a glimpse of one of the reasons Miss Hiratsuka couldn’t get married. Geez, woman, just how obsessed with me are you? You’re scary. Also terrifying.

When I reviewed the e-mails, all of them had the same content. In summary, they were instructing me to volunteer long-term during the holiday. This was no joke. It was time to feign total ignorance. With no hesitation, I switched off my cell phone. At times like these, it’s convenient to be a loner. You won’t get calls from anyone else anyway!

Right about when I had finally relaxed again, Komachi came down from her room on the second floor. By all appearances, she had spent the day in the clothes she’d slept in. All she was wearing besides her underwear was my hand-me-down T-shirt.

“Taking a break?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she replied. “I’ve basically done everything but the essay and the independent research project.”

“Nice work. Do you want a drink? There’s coffee, barley tea, MAX Coffee…”

“Coffee and MAX Coffee are two different things…? I’ll go with barley tea.”

MAX Coffee does not count as coffee. That’s common sense. MAX Coffee is categorized as condensed milk. The category error of the coffee world—that’s MAX Coffee. By the way, the category error of the light-novel world is Gagaga Bunko. “Here,” I said.

“Yoink.” Komachi accepted the tea in both hands and gulped it down eagerly. With a satisfied Ahh, she set the cup on the table. “Now then, Bro.” She suddenly adopted a grave expression. “I studied really hard.”

“Yeah, that’s true. You’re not done with everything, though.” She still had the book report and the independent research project. And with entrance exams, the end was that it was never-ending. It was Golden Experience Requiem. Still, she had finished most of her homework over the past few days, so you have to give her credit for applying herself.

“I did so much work, I think I deserve to treat myself,” she said.

“Are you some big-city office lady?” Seriously, what is it about the phrase treat yourself that evokes the image of an unmarried woman? For an instant, Miss Hiratsuka’s face flashed before my eyes.

“Anyway, I need a treat,” said Komachi. “So you have to go out with me to Chiba.”

“Your reasoning is something else. That leap of logic could win you the Japan International Birdman Rally,” I replied.

Komachi pouted and huffed. Apparently, no wasn’t an option.

“Well, I get what you’re saying,” I said. “You want something in particular? I can’t buy you anything too expensive, though. I only have four hundred yen in my wallet.”

“You can’t even get something cheap with that… I don’t really need anything, though. I just want to go out with you. Oh, that just scored some serious Komachi points!”

“You’re so obnoxious…” She probably wasn’t trying to pester me into purchasing anything, though, so she basically just wanted to go out and have some fun. I felt like she should call her friends for that, but, well, I didn’t want her going to Chiba Station with her girlfriends and getting hit on by some guy. In fact, there’s a place not far from the amusement district near Chiba Station that’s called Pick-up Road. I’ve avoided it ever since that one time I was going by and someone mugged me out of my allowance, though.

Also, if she got mixed up with boys, I’d have to stain my hands with blood. Going along with Komachi now would be best. “I’m fine with going out, but get changed,” I said. “If you go out dressed like that, I’ll have to shine a laser pointer in the eyes of every boy on the street. Oh, that just scored some serious Hachiman points, you know?”

“Uh, that sister complex of yours is creepy, frankly. Also, that’s a terrible thing to do.” My little sister retreated a couple of steps.

…Is that so? I should have had about eighty thousand points, though. ’Cause I’m Hachiman. But I quietly kept my smug reply to myself. Komachi’s grading system was strict.

Guys in Chiba with younger sisters have a high chance of developing a sister complex. And mine is actually this cute, so there’s nothing I can do about it. Some guys are always like, My little sister isn’t cute at all, but that’s because she’s your little sister. That’s why she’s not endearing to you. “I don’t know what we’d do at Chiba,” I said, “but if you want me to go with you, I will.”

“Whoo! Thanks. Okay, I’m gonna go get ready. You change into something easy to move around in.”

Something easy to move around in…which means… Are we going bowling? Well, at least it’s not boring. I’m not much for punching holes in stuff.

When you tell me to dress for unhindered movement, going naked seems like the best option to me, I dunno… When we did the fifty-meter dash in elementary school, some guys thought that way. They’d say I’m getting serious now! and do it in their bare feet. Yeah, that was me.

I grabbed a random T-shirt and a button-down shirt, along with a pair of jeans. As I was putting on my socks, Komachi was dashing this way and that and ransacking the house. What was she doing, scurrying around like that? She was like a little squirrel. It was driving up her cuteness gauge, though. I zoned out (my special skill) and waited for her, and Komachi finished changing. She had undressed and redressed in front of me, as usual, but this process was so mundane, I don’t think it even registered for me.

“There we go!” At last, she looked at herself in the mirror and posed.

Yeah, yeah, you’re cute, you’re cute. Could you hurry it up?

Komachi donned a newsboy cap and turned to me. “Okay, let’s go!” she declared, holding her provisions in both arms. There were two bags, packed full of stuff and looking fairly heavy. I wordlessly reached out a hand, and Komachi passed me one, rather happily. Don’t get all gleeful over a little thing like this. Are you one of those easy-to-please heroines who’re all the rage these days?

Before we left, I checked that the door was properly locked, and then we set off for the station.

“So, like, what’s with these bags?” I asked Komachi. “Are you trying to make me your mule? I’m not carrying anything illegal for you.” I pointed to the bag in my hands as we walked.

Komachi quietly put a finger to her lips. “That’s a secret!  ” She shot a wink at me while she was at it.

“You’re so obnoxious…”

“Heh. Secrets are what make a woman a woman, Bro.”

“Are you Shelley or what? You learned that from Conan, didn’t you…?”

One of the unique characteristics of guys with younger sisters is that we have this strong tendency to share manga communally, especially the ones bought back in elementary school. This tendency becomes especially noticeable when it’s a series popular with both boys and girls. So we’ll often get each other’s references like that… Oh, it wasn’t Shelley—it was Vermouth, wasn’t it?

…Anyway, when I’m reading manga, Komachi will come to peek over my shoulder, and our mom will see it and be like, Let Komachi see, too. For a while, whenever I was listening to music with my earbuds in, Mom would tell me to share. How stupid. Are we a lovey-dovey couple? Or high school boys on the train home? Now there’s something that’d give Ebina a nosebleed…

As I herded Komachi toward the sidewalk side and she fiddled with her phone, I casually surveyed the quiet city. The sun was beaming down brilliantly over the road to the station. The trees on the boulevard took the opportunity to rustle and stretch out their branches, and a stray cat lay on its side, fast asleep in the shade. The smell of a mosquito coil and the sounds of an afternoon TV show filtered out from someone’s yard.

As we walked side by side, a group of elementary schoolers on mountain bikes passed by in a brief burst of animated chatter. Komachi and I paused, watching them absently, and then started again at a pace a little slower than I was used to. I matched my speed to Komachi’s, and we wound our way to the station. When we arrived, I stepped toward the ticket gates, but my sister tugged my sleeve. “Bro, this way, this way.”

“Huh? But if we’re going to Chiba, the train’s…,” I began, turning around.

Komachi was going “Over there, over there!” as she pointed and tugged me along all the way to the bus loop, where we encountered a mysterious parked minivan with a black figure in front of the driver’s-side door. From the curvy silhouette, I could easily tell that it belonged to a woman. She was sporting a black T-shirt with rolled-up sleeves, jean shorts, and hiking-boot-esque footwear. Her black hair was gathered up in a ponytail under a khaki baseball cap, and her sunglasses hid her eyes from view. When she turned to me, though, her mouth twisted sardonically.

I have a bad feeling about this.

“Now then…let’s hear why you didn’t answer your phone, Hachiman Hikigaya.” She removed her sunglasses with a click and faced me with sharp, flashing eyes. Needless to say, it was Miss Hiratsuka. Whoa, someone’s mad…

“Oh…my cell reception is unstable. I think there’s a connection between the number of antennas they have and the number of hairs on their CEO’s head. Sorta like Kitaro’s antenna. Seriously. I always suspected there was something weak and flabby about a company with a name like that. What the hell is with calling themselves soft?! Get creative with your cell phone reception before you start creative publishing! I do like reading those books, though!”

“Bro, you’re gonna die… You’re gonna get punished in the name of justice…” Komachi, worried for my safety, stepped forward to stop me. But it would be fine. He was actually a pretty good guy. …I’ll be okay, right? Also, please do something about my reception.

“Hmph, whatever. I didn’t expect a decent excuse from you in the first place,” Miss Hiratsuka said.

Then please don’t ask…, I was about to say, but my teacher didn’t give me the chance.

“Well, as long as you aren’t involved in any accidents or other incidents, that’s enough,” she continued, smiling. “That’s happened before, so I was a little worried.”

“…Miss Hiratsuka.” She was probably referring to the time I got hit by a car. Of course a teacher would hear about an accident involving a student of hers. I guess…she’s serious about her job. She’s a good person.


“Good thing I pulled some strings and got hold of your sister.”

“…You’re scaring me.” That storm of e-mails, the way you check up on my safety… You’re freaking me out! That’s basically stalker behavior! I now know how terrifying it is to be loved…and I don’t need love, summer.

“So, like, did you want something? I’m going to Chiba with my sister right now,” I said.

Miss Hiratsuka blinked a few times in surprise. “Huh. So you haven’t read my e-mails yet. We’re going to Chiba, too, as part of a Service Club activity.”

“What?” Did she send me a message about that? The first one I’d read had given me major creepy-girlfriend vibes, so I’d turned off my phone in terror. Figuring I should take another look, I pulled it out.

That was when I heard a voice behind me. “Hikki, you’re late.” When I turned around, I saw Yuigahama with a very full plastic bag from a convenience store in her hand. She wore a hot-pink sun visor with the kind of T-shirt and short shorts that make you want to go Whoa, not enough cloth there. It was like she was living for summer. These days, even elementary schoolers don’t wear short sleeves with shorts like that.

Yukinoshita was standing behind Yuigahama, as if hiding in her shadow. Unusually for her, she was in jeans, paired with a shirt that had a stand-up collar. Though she wasn’t showing much skin, she still looked breezy and cool.

“Huh? Why’re you guys here?” I asked.

“What do you mean? This is for the Service Club. Aren’t you here because Komachi told you about it?” Yuigahama said nonchalantly.

Agh, I’m starting to see what’s going on here. Miss Hiratsuka tried to invite me to this club thing, but I totally stonewalled her, so she contacted Yuigahama, who in turn got in touch with Komachi. Damn it! This isn’t fair! I can’t believe they would take advantage of my brotherly love, knowing full well I’d be excited to go out if Komachi was the one asking! And I fell for it and left the house!

The cruelest one was Komachi, who had lured me here with lies by omission. The more you hate her, the cuter she gets. She was so cute now, I could hardly stand it.

When she saw the two older girls, she gave them a jubilant greeting. “Yui! Yahallo!”

“Yahallo, Komachi!”

Is that greeting in now? It sounds so dumb. Stop.

“Yukino, too! Yahallo!”

“Hey…hello, Komachi.” Yukinoshita was almost tricked into saying it, but she came to her senses in the nick of time. She instantly blushed.

Komachi squeezed Yuigahama’s hand. “I’m so glad you invited me!”

“Thank Yukinon,” replied Yuigahama. “She’s the one who called me. She told me the teacher had asked me to call you.” Oh-ho. So in other words, the order went Miss Hiratsuka   Yukinoshita   Yuigahama   Komachi   me, huh?

Komachi responded by glomping Yukinoshita. “Really? Thank you so much! I love you, Yukino!”

Yukinoshita faltered for a moment in the face of Komachi’s straightforward declaration. She averted her gaze slightly and cleared her throat with a cough. “…Oh, um…I just thought we would need someone to look after that.”

Yes, hello. I’m “that.”

“…Nothing I did was worthy of praise,” she continued. “It was just because of how things normally are with you two.”

Yuigahama and Komachi burst into affectionate grins as Yukinoshita blushed.

 

 

 

 

This was not good. At this rate, Yukinoshita would soon have Komachi in her clutches. It was already too late for Yuigahama, but I wanted Komachi to stay on the straight and narrow. I had to set her down the right path! “Komachi, you don’t have to thank Yukinoshita. In fact, you should be thanking me instead for being such a loser. Otherwise, she never would have needed your intervention!” Heh, that was a good one. Now Komachi would most certainly show her brother gratitude, respect, and love.

“…”

“…”

“…”

…Or so I thought, but instead we all sank into immediate silence. All I could hear was the express train zooming away, a painful sound to my ears. Everyone was at a loss for words.

Yukinoshita chuckled. It had been a long time since I last saw her smile, or so it seemed. “It really was the right choice to invite you, Komachi. I’m glad you’re here to take care of that thing.”

“I really wish someone would take over for me, though.” My own sister was about to forsake me.

In an effort to hide the tears threatening to fall, I raised my head toward the blazing sun. It was getting a little toasty. “It’s hot, so can we finish this up quick?”

“Don’t be so impatient. The last person is almost here.”

Someone was indeed coming down the station stairs toward us. When I saw that figure glancing left and right, I instantly realized who it was. Before I even processed what I was doing, I’d raised my hand.

When he saw me wave, he dashed up to us. “Hachiman!” Panting, Totsuka gave me a bright and cheerful smile more radiant than the midsummer sun. But my chest squeezed at the thought that I wasn’t the only recipient of such smiles. Something caught in the back of my throat, and that something gradually transformed into pain. The wounds in my soul festered and oozed.

But Totsuka’s lovable expression was enough to heal it all in two sections. In English, you would say his smile could cure me with pretty. Totsuka’s so cute. Abbreviated as: Totsucute.

Komachi, who had been standing beside me, hopped up to greet Totsuka. “Yahallo, Totsuka!”

“Yeah, Yahallo!” he replied.

What the heck. That’s so cute. Let’s make that greeting a thing. “They invited you, too, Totsuka?” I asked.

“Yes, Miss Hiratsuka said she didn’t have enough people. But…is it okay for me to join you?”

“Of course it is!” I exclaimed. But, like, we were just going to Chiba Station. There was no cause for uncertainty.

If Miss Hiratsuka had invited Totsuka, though, I guess she kinda understood. Good job. Now everyone was here… Everyone?

I scanned our group. “Where’s Zaimokuza?”

“…Who?” Yukinoshita tilted her head, perplexed.

Miss Hiratsuka hmmed, apparently only just remembering, and explained. “I reached out to him, but he said something about a fierce battle or Comiket or deadlines or something and refused.”

Seriously, Zaimokuza? I was jealous of him for getting the option of refusing. He must be having a blast right now with his arcade buddies… But why’s the deadline last on his list? What about his ambitions to be a writer?

“Well then, let’s get going,” declared Miss Hiratsuka.

With that, we went to board the minivan. Upon opening the door, I saw the vehicle was a seven-seater. There was the driver’s seat, the front passenger seat, room for three in the back, and another two in the middle.

“Yukinon, let’s have some snacks, come on!” Yuigahama chirped.

“Those aren’t for eating once we’re there?” Yukinoshita questioned. The pair was already planning to sit together.

So that means…oh-ho. In other words, sandwiched between Totsuka and Komachi is the sword of promised victory. Now I can win!

But when I exultantly started climbing into the back, someone yanked at my collar. “You’re sitting shotgun,” ordered Miss Hiratsuka.

“Huh? Hey, why?!” I protested as she dragged me along.

She hid her bright-red face with a hand. “D-don’t get the wrong idea, okay?! I-it’s not because I want to sit by you!”

Oh-ho, how tsundere of her. If you could ignore her age, it’d be cute.

“It’s because the passenger in that seat is most likely to die!” she continued.

“You suck!” I struggled, trying to escape.

But she let a smile slip. “…I’m joking. It’s wise to keep me from getting bored while I drive, don’t you think? I enjoy talking with you, you know.”

“Oh, really…?” Faced with such a tranquil and soft expression, I couldn’t defy her any longer. I sat calmly in the front seat, and Miss Hiratsuka nodded in satisfaction.

The teacher checked that everyone was in the van, and she and I fastened our seat belts. She turned the key in the ignition and pressed the gas, and we sped away from my familiar home station and down the road. If we were going to Chiba Station, it would probably be fastest to go from here out onto National Road 14. But for reasons unknown, Miss Hiratsuka was driving toward the interchange. The arrow on the navigation system was pointing toward the highway.

“Um, aren’t we going to Chiba…?” I asked.

Miss Hiratsuka grinned. “Let me ask you something instead. How long have you been under the delusion…that we were headed to Chiba Station?”

“Uh, I’m not under any delusions or anything. You said we were going to Chiba, and usually, that means Chiba Station…”

“You thought our destination was Chiba Station? Too bad! It’s Chiba Village!”

“Why are you so excited about this…?”

This often happens with those who lack social finesse. When they encounter a person for the first time in a long while, they sometimes get overenthusiastic. The next day, they reflect on their behavior and sink into self-loathing. I guess having some distance is the key. I hope Miss Hiratsuka isn’t depressed tomorrow, though.

But still, Chiba Village… Chiba Village… That sounds familiar… I wonder why.



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