Yahari Ore no Seishun Love Come wa Machigatte Iru - Volume 5 - Chapter 2

2

Sure enough, he’s forgotten Saki Kawasaki.

It was early afternoon during summer vacation, and the train was less crowded than usual. I rode past a few stations to Tsudanuma and passed through the ticket gates, turned right, and joined the sparse current of people moving forward.

At the Tsudanuma campus of Sasaki Seminar, they held a summer course for second-year high schoolers. Most students thinking about entrance exams would already have begun preparing for them around then. Still, we were only second-years, so the mood was fairly relaxed. Once you hit third year, things get tense. If you fall asleep in class, they might even kick you out of the room. And after that, they take you to this little reception area where the lecturer goes off at you and the tutor is like, “…Will you switch lectures?” and you can tell they’re scolding you. Or so I’ve heard on the Internet.

This particular class was for high school second-years aiming for selective private universities. The room was deserted.

Each course was five days long. English and Japanese were combined into one five-day course, and there was another optional five-day course for social studies. I had already finished social studies a little while ago, and now I was starting on English/Japanese.

When I entered the room, I didn’t notice anyone there, so I took up my position in the front row, closest to the door. As a rule, the desks in the back are the VIP seats, so to speak. The prevailing wisdom is that the biggest clique will occupy them. Any involvement with them invites great suffering, so I always go with the front row or the exact center of the class. Even in the front row, the rightmost and leftmost seats are often blind spots, so that’s where a loner should set his sights. Though it is a little hard to see the blackboard from there, it’s easier to concentrate in class. I mean, since nobody comes to talk to you, you’re inevitably forced to concentrate. In fact, it ends up being a decent spot.

I immediately set out my textbook and notebook and rested my face on my hand for some light zoning out before the start of the lecture. Watching the others pleasantly chatter away with their friends, I patiently waited for the appointed time.

This tranquility would probably be gone by this time next year. It had been like that during entrance exams for high school, too. People were secretly talking smack about anyone who had already gotten a recommendation and secretly cursing the people who were going to pass. I was certain that in our final year, it would just be the same thing. Four years after that, it would happen again when we started job seeking. Three years, seven years may pass, but I doubt the true nature of man will ever change.

But let’s leave the past for now. What I needed to be focusing on were the things in front of me. First of all, the university entrance exams. Early birds would be shifting their focus toward college admissions this summer. It was time to pull that mental switch. My goal for now was the Center Test. Position the Center as target and pull the switch… Position the Center as target and pull the switch… Position the Center as target and pull the switch…

As I simulated the entrance exam mentality with hollow eyes, I caught sight of someone in my periphery, and I came to my senses. It was as if someone had yelled at me, Idiot! You hid the enemy with your own smoke!

Her waist-length, blue-tinged black hair was tied up in a ponytail, and her long, lithe legs drew the eye. She wore a shirt with three-quarter sleeves and denim shorts over leggings, and she had a backpack slung loosely over one shoulder. Her sandals dragged over the ground with her languid stride as she passed by me and then stopped. Something about the pause was unnatural, so I looked at her.

“So you’re in this class, too,” she said in a sleepy-sounding voice as she threw me a chilly glance. Below one of her ill-humored eyes was a mole like a teardrop.

I feel like she looks familiar. Who is she again?

“I should thank you, though. I’m grateful,” she continued.

I had no idea why she was thanking me, but nothing indicated she had the wrong person. It’s very rare for someone to speak to a loner. Usually, it doesn’t happen except in the most extreme of circumstances.

“Thanks to you, I got that…scholarship?” She fumbled over the English word. “One of those. Things are going well with Taishi, too.”

The name Taishi sounded unpleasantly familiar. I consulted my list of people I hate and landed on the name Taishi Kawasaki. Oh-ho, that’s the little cockroach that tried to sidle up to Komachi. What was his relationship to this person?

And then, thanks to her bluish-black hair, I suddenly recognized her. Blood Type Blue! Kawa… Kawakoshi? Kawajima? Kawaharagi…? Well, whatever. It’s Kawa-something! Her hair was so blue, I thought she was a Gagaga book.

“Naw, you got that scholarship on your own,” I replied. As we conversed, I remembered her name: Saki Kawasaki.

“Yeah, but Taishi keeps going on about you, so… Well, whatever, I’ve said it.” That was all she said, as if motivated by a sense of obligation, and then immediately marched away. She was curt, but that was nothing new. Kawasaki doesn’t let people get near, always chooses solitude, and exudes the air of a delinquent. And she had initiated the conversation with me.

I felt like she’d softened up quite a bit. Curious about her transformation, my eyes automatically followed her. She took a seat about three rows behind me and pulled out her phone. From the way her fingers were moving, she was probably writing an e-mail. And then she happened to smile.

Huh, so she can smile. She always looks so bored, and her presence is aggressively overbearing. You’d never see her smile like that at school. Actually, I don’t recall seeing her at school too much in the first place. Among fellow loners, nonintervention is standard.

While I was watching her, thinking, Huh, what a rare sight to see, our eyes met. Blushing bright red, Kawasaki gave me an intense glare. Eek! She’s so scary! I rolled my head like, Man, my shoulders are so stiff! and tried my best to escape. Nope, she hadn’t softened up at all. You went to all that trouble to come to prep school, Kawasaki, so try to sand down those sharp corners. Make your square head round.

The English lecture ended, and it was our very brief break period. I headed downstairs and bought a MAX Coffee from the vending machine. Slowly sipping it, I returned to the classroom. Inside, the other kids were spending the time as they pleased—fiddling with their phones, reading, or having staring contests with the modern Japanese textbook for the next class. It was unlike what you’d normally see at school. Overall, a lot of people were by themselves; loners accounted for the majority.

It was a peculiar situation compared with the cram school I had attended the last time I had entrance exams. That had ultimately just been an extension of regular school. Even at these extra classes, the people who never fit in were still ignored in force. During lectures, that same social dynamic was in place. It was exasperating. That class had made me desperate to move on to the upper level. With each move up, the classroom got quieter, and the level of the lectures and the proficiency of the students increased.

Thinking back on it, maybe those lower-level students had just been looking for justifications to be satisfied with the basic classes, so they had flocked together. They turned their friendships into a reason to give up trying, their relationships into an excuse for complacency. It’s like when a middle school couple says they want to go on to the same high school, and the smarter one goes to a less competitive school that’s on their SO’s level. At the time, when I had overheard people suggesting it, I had felt a chill. If you really want what’s best for your girlfriend or boyfriend, you shouldn’t hold them back or follow their every whim. That’s just taking the easy route so they can continue to indulge in their idle and mundane lives.

Eventually, you’ll hear through the grapevine that they did go to the same high school and broke up in less than two months. That’s absurd. It’s such a riot, you’re bound to end up with smashed windows. And then they’ll try to validate it later by going on about how they were sooo young back then, you know?

Maybe it’s because I’ve watched it happen from an outsider’s perspective, but I could never believe in any relationship that’s so utterly superficial. It’s a convenient excuse, and I don’t trust any form of kindness so filled with deceit and so delighted in its own self-sacrifice.

That’s why I liked this prep school system. The school maintained an appropriate policy of nonintervention with the students, and the students were all indifferent to one another. They completely did away with any process unnecessary for exam prep. It was fair to say that their goal was maximum efficiency.

At the cram school I went to in middle school, the lecturer and the students were all trying to be friends or something. It sucked… All the other students were on a first-name basis, and I was the only one they all called by last name…

I mean, if students and teachers want to be all buddy-buddy at prep school, it’s doable. They’ve got this tutor system—basically, university students are always working part-time. Apparently, they don’t just help you with your studies, they’ll also talk to you about your career path. If you want to take part in a poignant student-teacher drama during your entrance exams, you’re perfectly free to do so.

Fundamentally, the atmosphere around here is sound and serene. Some might find it cold. For me, it’s comfortable. Still, some of my classmates were of Hayama’s breed. The way they blathered on to each other at high volume until the class started, it was like someone had urged them to “bring all your friends!”

You can find normie(LOL)-ish people everywhere you go. If you made a distribution map of their habitat, the sprawl would most certainly rival that of potato bugs or wharf roaches. I can’t understand why anyone would want to be so mundane.

Good grief, the swarm is everywhere… And they’re more active in summer. That’s another way they’re like insects. I hate bugs, so this season is always a struggle.

When the lecture was over, I was overcome with the characteristic lethargy that testifies to ninety minutes of continuous concentration. The fatigue of studying is unlike the comfortable exhaustion of playing sports. It feels like your head is gradually fogging over. The glucose in my brain was all used up. If I hadn’t had that MAX Coffee, things might have taken a turn for the worse. TONE Coca-Cola Bottling should team up with somebody to make a product for exam takers. They’d probably make good money.

Having finished the lectures, I immediately began packing up to go home. This is when the loner is most cheerful.

Fortunately, the Tsudanuma area around the cram school was a fairly developed amusement district, so there were a number of bookstores and a lot of arcades. It was a neighborhood that could keep a high school boy entertained.

As I was considering whether I should make any stops on my way home, a rap, rap sounded on the edge of my desk. When I looked toward the cause, I found a sullen Saki Kawasaki. What? If you have business with me, say something. Are your parents woodpeckers?

“Do you need something?” I asked. She had been sending Ask me! vibes, so I obediently went along with it.

Kawasaki briefly hesitated, sighing.

Come on, if you don’t want to talk to me, then don’t. What do you want?

“Hey, do you have some time now?” she asked.

“Oh, I have a thing, so.” I unconsciously activated my standard refusal line. I automatically react to these things; it’s my instinct to refuse all invitations. It’s a commonsense behavior in modern society, just like screening any call from an unknown number. When I use that line, in most cases, people will back down easily. Oh, really? Okay…right. Although the lack of resistance really gives the impression that they were only asking to be polite. In fact, sometimes they even imply that they’re relieved you said no. Seriously, you guys, take more care with that. In my opinion, sometimes you have to be kind by withholding the invitation.

But I don’t think Saki Kawasaki was speaking to me out of politeness. In fact, I got the impression that she didn’t engage with that kind of etiquette. Her type doesn’t back down, not even before Yukinoshita or Miss Hiratsuka. She pretty much says what she wants.

Kawasaki’s languid eyes narrowed sharply. “What ‘thing’?”

“Well, uh, like, a thing… Just some, like, stuff with my sister.” In desperation, I appealed to Komachi.

Kawasaki gave me a small nod. “I see. That works out perfectly, then. Come with me for a bit.”

“Huh?”

With great exasperation, Kawasaki answered my monosyllabic request for more information. “I’m not the one who wants to talk to you. Taishi says he wants to ask you something. He says she’s with him in Tsudanuma.”

Oh, I see. So that e-mail she was writing was to her brother. So did that little grin midtext mean she has a brother complex or something? Hey, brah, how ya doin’? Yeah, I could see her having a complex about her bra. My flat-chested sister says it’s hard to find cute ones in the larger sizes.

“Sorry, but there’s no reason for me to spend my time on your little brother.”

“I’m saying your sister is with him, though.”

“Hey, so where are we going, then? Is it close by? Five minutes’ walk? Can we run?” Tell me these things first, geez.

“Seriously…?” She fired an exasperated glare my way.

But I didn’t pay her any mind as I leaped to my feet and zoomed out of the classroom.

Kawasaki followed after me. “They’re at the Saize right past the exit. Do you know where it is?” she asked.

“Please. I know where every Saize along the Sobu Line is located.” I even know the former site of the first branch. Motoyawata is the birthplace of Saize. The shop is no longer there, but the sign is. By the way, I’m so informed about the area, I can even add that the head office and distribution center for Tora no Ana are also around Motoyawata.

When we left the building, a suffocating heat was hovering over the road. There was no wind, and it was like the humidity was bending the sunlight as it blazed down on us. It was in between lectures, and as we merged with the ebb and flow of people around the station, the population density of the neighborhood took a sudden upturn. We didn’t talk much as we weaved ahead through the periodic gaps between the human waves. I’m almost always on my own when I’m out, so I’m good at slipping into the vacuums of the crowd as I walk. From here on out, the game will belong to Stealth Hikki, yo!

Komachi and the cockroach were apparently at a nearby Saize. Perfect. They have knives and forks there, so no lack of murder weapons. I could also pie-throw a piping-hot Milan-style cheesy pilaf right in his face. Then I’d just have to put up some on-screen text to reassure everyone that *the staff ate it all afterward! All would be forgiven. And then I’d daub his wounds with spicy chicken sauce.

I could actually feel my soul gem darkening. Whoops, that’s not good. At this rate, I’ll turn into a witch. Let’s think about something nice… Is Magical Girl Saika   Totsuka out yet?

Fighting down my impatience, I waited for the traffic light to turn. Behind me, Kawasaki commented, “Oh yeah. A little while ago, Yukinoshita was taking a summer class, too.”

“…Huh. Really?” The name delayed my reaction a little. I’m pretty sure Yukinoshita is aiming to go to a public sciences school. So Kawasaki’s taking those courses, too? Well, it’s natural to have a broad range of school choices at this point. I’m just narrowing my goal to a private arts school because I’m so dismal at math. By the way, I’m also narrowing my goal for the future to being a househusband.

“She really is hard to approach,” Kawasaki commented.

Are you in a position to be saying that? You’re constantly emitting a terrifying aura. Never mind the girls—half the boys are scared of you, too, you know?

“What’s with that look?” Her listless eyes narrowed and flicked toward me.

“Nothing.” Flustered, I turned away.

I could imagine what Yukinoshita and Kawasaki would be like together in the same classroom. Though both of them would attract a lot of attention, I bet neither let anyone get close. Their behavior is similar, but I think their motivations are completely different.

Behind Kawasaki’s aggression is a failure to communicate. It’s the quintessential tendency of the taciturn. I suspect she’s just bad at talking. Seeing her affection for her little brother, you somehow know.

Yukinoshita, on the other hand, has never had any desire to go on the attack at all—her existence itself is an onslaught. Individuals who excel can be overwhelming, awakening jealousy and a sense of inferiority in others. That’s what has cut her off from those around her and earned her their ill will. And then to complicate matters, she never fails to push back against the malice. She crushes it. That’s Yukinoshita. If Kawasaki’s behavior is a threat for the sake of self-defense, then Yukinoshita’s behavior is always absolute retribution.

The light changed to green. When I took a step out, Kawasaki ventured, “Hey…could you thank her for me? In the end, I never did.”

“Do it yourself.”

“I could, I guess. But, well, I dunno… It’d be a little awkward.” Her timidity caught my attention, so I looked at her. Her eyes were quietly downcast, and she was walking with her head lowered. “Some people you’re just not going to get along with, even if you know they didn’t do anything wrong,” she said.

“Yeah.” That’s true. That’s why noninterference is the best form of compromise. You can choose to stay out of it for the sake of getting by. Sticking together like glue and smiling and chatting and fooling around and hanging out are not the only possible ways to engage with people. I believe that keeping an appropriate distance in order to avoid hating one another is also laudable.

That’s the impression Yukino Yukinoshita left on Saki Kawasaki. Kawasaki was forced to acknowledge her but could not approach. Kawasaki knew that nothing good would come of it if either of them attempted to reach out. She could be certain the pain they would inflict on each other would serve no purpose, and that’s why she tried to avoid contact. It’s not running away or sidestepping the issue: It’s an indication of respect.

“Besides, we probably won’t run into each other for a while,” she said. “She’s not in this course, so the next time I’ll see her is at school, and we’re not in the same class. But you’ll see her again soon for your club activities, right?”

“No, I don’t think I’ll see her until school starts again, either.” At the very least, we wouldn’t be seeing each other on purpose. If you thought about it, that was all there was to our relationship. We wouldn’t make contact unless we had to. I didn’t even know her number.

We crossed to the other side of the crosswalk and went down a flight of stairs to the basement of the building. Our footsteps echoed quietly.

“Plus, even if we did run into each other, we wouldn’t necessarily talk,” I said.

“That’s true. I don’t normally talk to her, either.”

“Yup.” I mean, if someone starts a conversation with me, I’ll give them a proper response. In fact, I’m extremely polite when I engage with people. So polite I come off as creepy. If I know someone is a loner, like Kawasaki, then I can relax and be more casual because I recognize we’re of the same breed, I guess.

As we conversed, we reached the basement floor. When we passed through the automatic doors, I saw Komachi nearby in a seat close to the drink bar. As soon as she saw me, she waved her hand. “’Sup, Bro!”

“’Sup,” I replied casually, plopping down beside her.

Across from her was a middle schooler with a name reminiscent of Sano Yakuyoke Daishi. When his eyes met with mine, he bobbed his head in a bow. “Bro! Sorry for making you come all this way.”

“Don’t call me Bro. I’ll kill you.”

“Hey. Are you trying to start a fight with my little brother?” Waves of rage were rolling off quiet Kawasaki in her seat opposite mine.

She’s really glaring at me! These brother-complex types are seriously creepy. People who get overly attached to their family members freak me out. Seriously, dude.

Taishi was busy restraining Kawasaki as she attempted to intimidate me with a growl, so I dinged the bell and quickly took care of ordering.

Two more people for the drink bar. I was too scared of Kawasaki to smash a Milan-style cheesy pilaf in her face, so I gave up on that.

I picked up my cup of joe, as they say in the business, had a sip, and then got down to brass tacks. “So what do you want?” I asked.

“Oh yeah,” Taishi replied. “I want you to tell me about Soubu High.”

“Come on. Just ask your sister. She’s right there,” I said. Saki Kawasaki was in my year at the same school as me. I’d probably forget if I didn’t remind myself.

“I really want another guy’s opinion!” For some reason, Taishi was clenching his fists tight. Why is he so worked up…? He can be as passionate as he likes, but he’s not going to get much out of me.

“It’s not really anything special,” I said. “I think any school would be about the same. Some of the special events might be different, depending on things like how serious they get with the cultural festival and how good the sports teams are.” I’ve never seen any other high schools, so I don’t know exactly, but that’s my impression. If we’re just talking about the regular curriculum in the full-day school system, you could probably fit most schools into the same stereotypical category. Unique programs aside, there’s not such a huge difference between them. Personally, my naive mental image of high school and the reality of what it actually ended up being were virtually equivalent. My sole miscalculation was joining the Service Club under duress.

“Huh?” Komachi tilted her head curiously. “But when the school test-score averages are different, doesn’t that change the school spirit?”

Well,” I replied, “I think as the averages go up, you tend to find fewer delinquent types. Still, some people want to act like delinquents.” I casually slid my eyes over to the spot diagonal from me.

Noticing my gaze, Kawasaki glared at me. “Why’re you looking at me?” she asked. “I’m not trying to be a delinquent.”

So my assumption had been off. Something had convinced me she was about to say, Stop looking at my face. Look at my body. Come on. So my eyes just…

I cleared my throat in an attempt to cover up my intimidation at Kawasaki’s sharp eyes and started over. “So basically, all that’s different compared with middle school is the ratio of types that make up the student body. And everyone starts acting all high school-ish. That gets annoying.”

“Huh? ‘Ish’?” Taishi cocked his head as if he couldn’t quite parse what I meant.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting,” I said, “but ultimately, most people in high school have this obsession with the ‘high schooler’ you often seen in fiction, so they put on an act in an attempt to become that. And it just leaves you cold.”

I bet that somewhere out there is an unwritten rule. All high school students must be thus!

The Law of the High School Student:

Rule the first: Those who would be in high school are obligated to have a girlfriend or boyfriend.

Rule the second: Those who would be in high school must be surrounded by crowds of friends and be obnoxiously rowdy.

Rule the third: Those who would be in high school must act just like the students on TV and in movies.

Any who disobey the above laws are ordered to commit seppuku.

Something like that.

You could say it’s similar to how the Shinsengumi—especially that samurai code fundamentalist Toshizou Hijikata—yearned to be like samurai precisely because they were not in fact samurai.

And if you want to reconcile that ideal with reality, eventually, you have no choice but to be unreasonable. For example, a guy who wants girls to like him will check up on how they’re doing and annoy them with e-mails, and when he finds a good opportunity, he’ll buy them meals and be loud and make a scene in order to draw attention to himself. Even though, in truth, he might be more of a quiet guy. Or maybe a girl wants to be closer to her friends and wears clothes that are in style (LOL), drags herself to group dates so they have the right number of girls, and acts all excited when she listens to the latest J-pop, even though her tastes might be more modest and reserved. Despite it all, these people put in all this effort because they don’t want to be cut off from what’s “normal.” Because they don’t want to remove themselves from the value system that “everyone” shares.

Taishi moaned. “That doesn’t sound very nice…” As he listened to me, his expression turned dark and gloomy.

“Well, this is just from the perspective of a twisted guy who overthinks everything,” I said. “If you want to make friends, you have to be prepared to sacrifice something.” Living a life different from others is difficult in its own way, but going with the flow is really hard. Life is hard.

“Whoops! Everyone’s glasses are empty, huh?” Komachi said, as if attempting to lighten up the somewhat heavy mood. Humming cheerfully, she gathered up all the cups and glasses, apparently intending to get refills for everyone.

Kawasaki noticed that and immediately stood up. “I’ll come with you. That’s a lot for one person to carry.” Komachi gratefully accepted the offer, and the pair headed off to the drink bar together. For some reason or another, I watched them go.

Then Taishi lifted his head suddenly as if he had just remembered something. He glanced over at the girls’ backs where they stood away from us and then leaned toward me, clearing his throat. “Ahem… It’s sorta, I dunno, maybe it’s weird to ask you about this, but…,” Taishi whispered as a preface. “Be honest—what are the girls like there? Are they cute? Like, that Yukinoshita girl is gorgeous, isn’t she?”

Oh-ho, so this was the real issue at hand, huh? So he was so worked up at first because he wanted to talk about this. I considered the question for a bit. Yeah, well, if I had to say, I do feel like there are a lot of cute girls at Soubu High.

Or more to the point, the only girls at school whose looks leave an impression on me are the cute ones and the ones you remember like a punch to the face. I don’t really remember the normal ones. “There are a lot of cute girls,” I said. “There’s one class called the International Curriculum, and ninety percent of them are girls. So inevitably, there’s more girls than guys, meaning there’s a higher than normal ratio of pretty girls.”

“Whoa! What a dreamy situation!”

Huh? Sounds like the Bandai corporate slogan. “Dreams and Creation” or something like that, right? Anyway, there was something I had to tell him. “But you know, Taishi…” I expressed it as simply and clearly as I could. “Hasn’t your mother told you? You might like a cute girl, but she’s not going to like you back.”

“I—I understand so much now!” Taishi’s high spirits suddenly evaporated, and his eyes opened wide as if he had just been granted divine revelation via lightning strike.

“It’s vital to maintain a resigned state of mind,” I told him. “If pressing on doesn’t work, throw in the towel. Your rule of thumb needs to be ‘When the going gets tough, give up.’” These days, I also like to say Know others and know thyself, and thou shalt retreat from one hundred battles. “I mean, do you actually think it’s possible to get close to a girl like Yukinoshita?”

“You’re right… Not for me, at least! She’s pretty scary!”

What an open and honest opinion. I’d like to present him with a variety pack of axes.

Yukinoshita is far more unattainable than a flower on a high peak. She’s a flower blooming on the Guiana Highlands. Someone who doesn’t know much about her might find her rather frightening, seriously overbearing, and highly arrogant. I felt the same way at first…well, um, if you count our encounter in the clubroom as our first meeting, anyway.

Taishi groaned. “Soubu High must be terrifyin’ for y’all…”

For some reason, I found Taishi’s shivering and faux-Kansai accent rather grating, so I decided to go ahead and keep up the attack. “Your environment might change, but you won’t. The whole idea that things will change once you’re in high school is an illusion. Stop dreaming.” First, I’ll destroy that screwed-up illusion of yours! Ha-ha, well, I’d briefly had expectations of that nature, too. But such a high school experience is just a faraway ideal. Offering lessons in reality is its own form of kindness.

“Hey, don’t bully him so much,” Komachi said as she returned, setting down the drinks and poking me in the head.

Noooo, this isn’t bullying; I was just teeeeasing him a little, I muttered in my head, the irritating excuse of a little kid. That’s exactly what they say, you know.

Kawasaki sat down beside her brother, put her cup to her lips, and said, “Taishi, don’t take him too seriously. And more importantly…what you need to be thinking about is getting in.”

Taishi flinched once in his chair and groaned.

“Are you expecting to have trouble?” I asked.

Taishi seemed hard-pressed for a reply, so Kawasaki replied instead. “To be honest, right now it’s looking a little rough. That’s why I’m always telling him to study, but…”

Hanging his head, Taishi slumped and groaned some more.

Komachi came in to encourage him and smooth things over. “It’s okay, Taishi! Even if you end up at a different school from me and not Soubu High, I’ll still be your friend! I’ll be your friend, no matter what!”

“W-we’ll be friends no matter what…? O-oh…”

“Yeah, totally friends! Primate, hominid, friend!  ” She struck the finishing blow.

As her brother, I was okay with that, but as a fellow guy, I almost sympathized with him. His crushed hopes were worthy of some pity. “Well, um, I guess…you need a goal or something?” I suggested. “If you have a clear reason you want to go to that school, you can try harder, right?” I said.

Taishi lifted his head. “A goal?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “I can’t exactly brag about this, but when I was in middle school, I wanted to go to a school that wouldn’t have a single person from my middle school, so I worked my butt off. There’s only, like, one person every year that goes from my old middle school to Soubu High.”

“You’re right—you can’t brag about that…” Kawasaki’s smile was bitter. I suppose it was the coffee.

“Just so you know,” Komachi butted in, “I’m working hard to get in because it’s your school, Bro!” The girl took the opportunity to show off.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know.” I treated her boasting with casual disdain.

Taishi turned back to Kawasaki with a serious expression. “Did you have a reason, too?” he asked.

Kawasaki set down the cup in her hand with a clink. “I… Never mind about me.” She had seemed to be thinking about it, but then she swiftly looked away.

I had a vague idea of what her motivation was, though. If she could communicate that to Taishi, maybe it could motivate him, too. “…Well, our school’s a pretty good choice if you’re aiming for a public university with low tuition fees,” I said.

“You keep your mouth shut!” Panicking, Kawasaki glared at me. But her embarrassed blush didn’t have much punch to it.

Fool. A glare from a girl with a brother complex is nothing to fear.

That appeared to be enough for Taishi. He gave a small nod. “Oh…”

I’m sure there are lots of different motivations out there—and not just for Saki Kawasaki. Some people just pick whatever. Some are determined to get one particular school. Not everyone deals with the question in a proactive and focused way. But I think that as long as you make the choice yourself, even if it’s based on pessimism or a cowardly process of elimination, it’s enough.

“I’ve made up my mind,” said Taishi. “I’m going to Soubu High School!” He looked like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Well, good luck,” I said, completely sincere. …Wait, Komachi wants to attend my school, doesn’t she? “…If you make it, I’ll give you a big hug. Like a sumo wrestler.”

“I think he’s gonna kill me!” Taishi said, sounding a little scared. His sister moved in to protect him, giving me a rather harsh look.

In an attempt to evade her wrath, I checked the receipt. “Are we done here?” I asked. “Me and Komachi have to get home.” According to the clock, it was almost dinnertime. I pulled a thousand-yen bill from my wallet, left it on the table, and stood up.

“Yep!” Taishi rose to his feet and handed me a bill. “Thank you so much, Bro!”

“No, no.” I waved his reply away. “The possibility that you’d ever be able to call me ‘Bro’ completely vanished just a moment ago.”

“Wait, that’s the part you’re saying no to?!” Taishi was shocked.

Komachi watched our exchange out of the corner of her eye, putting her pointer finger on her chin and tilting her head. “Hmm? But if you and Saki get married, Bro, he can call you that, right?”

“D-don’t be stupid! Th-that would n-never happen!” I heard someone stuttering behind me as we left the restaurant.

After checking to make sure Kawasaki wouldn’t hear, I smirked and muttered, “No kidding. I’d only ever marry a woman willing to support me.”

“There it is!” cried Komachi. “Your nasty self-defense mechanisms.”

“Hey, cut it out. Don’t call it a self-defense mechanism.” I mean, it’s not a mechanism. Calling it someone willing to support me is an absolute defensive front.

All quiet on the defensive front.