SA A
Special Act: Side-A
We must wish them all the best in their futures.
Marriage is life’s grave.
Without exception, married people will proudly prattle on about how wonderful it is. How happy they are to say Honey, I’m home to someone, or how seeing their kids’ sleeping faces enables them to keep working hard the next day…but I’m gonna stop you right there.
If you live with your parents, you’ll have someone to say I’m home to, and if you want, you can even buy some gargling solution and come home to a hippo. And besides, if all you’re seeing of your kids is their sleeping faces, that just means you’re living in overtime hell.
Can you really call that happiness?
They’re all extolling marriage as true bliss, but the expression in their eyes is just as rotten as mine. They’re like zombies luring people into a swamp.
So here I ask you: Can you really call that happiness?
Happiness is like… How should I put it? Like when you see your little sister in the morning when she’s humming to herself and making breakfast in the kitchen with an apron on. Maybe I could call it something like that.
Doing just that, I yawned and let my consciousness drift as I waited for my darling little sister to finish making me breakfast.
This is happiness. I’ll never need marriage!
Both our parents work, and they’d left the house early that day, as always. They seemed busy. I really am grateful for their efforts. It’s thanks to them that I can live this semblance of a fulfilling lifestyle.
I do intend to become a househusband eventually, but these days, with the average age of marriage rising and the marriage rate dropping, that might not be so easy. I also hear the divorce rate is rising, too.
Maybe the lifestyle I aspire to is one that’s no longer functional, given the current social climate. But wait, would it have worked at any point in history? Like the Heian period or something?
Since I might not be able to get married, I would like my parents to continue to work good and hard for a very long time. Sponging off my parents is just the beginning—I’ll pull out the wet-vac to suck them entirely dry.
As such ambitions burned in Hachiman Hikigaya’s heart, Komachi, opposite me in the kitchen, spun around. It seemed she’d finished making breakfast. She cheerfully brought me my breakfast tray from the kitchen. “Thanks for waiting~.”
“Uh-huh.”
She put the tray down on the table and took her seat opposite me. The day’s menu was toast, salad, omelets…and coffee, I suppose. Pretty American. Or Nagoyan. Looks good, meow.
Komachi first started doing house chores toward the latter half of elementary school, and lately, she’s gotten pretty accustomed to it. She’s far surpassed me, especially when it comes to cooking, and is already approaching our mom’s level.
From our parents’ perspective, seeing their child surpass them must be quite moving. I think in the future, I, too, will surpass my father to become an even greater scumbag.
“Sorry you always end up doing this.”
“You promised to stop saying that, Bro.”
After some trivial sibling conversation, I put my hands together to give my thanks for the blessings of life. It’s important to be thankful for your bacon—I learned that from Silver Spoon. Also, can’t forget to say Thank you, my twilight to the bringers of that bacon. It’s thanks to Mommy and Daddy working for us that I was able to eat this meal today. Food tastes great when you’re not the one working for it. Super-great.
Be that as it may, my eyes unfortunately landed on something less than great.
“I don’t like tomatoes,” I said, picking up my fork. No matter how great free food is, I’ll never be able to see the greatness in those.
But Komachi showed no concern for me. “Yeah, that’s why I put them in,” she said nonchalantly, without any timidity, and started eating her salad.
…Huh? How does that make sense? Is that not strange?
Did her parents never teach her not to do things that upset people? …Now that I think about it, no one ever taught me that. As expected of my parents. The ol’ laissez-faire method: Just watch and figure it out yourself. What’s with this onboarding policy, man? It’s like a grouchy old master passing along his techniques to a successor or something.
As her older brother, I had to have a proper talk with her about this now. “Uh…listen…Komachi-chan?”
“You’re just so picky, Bro—with people, and food,” Komachi replied as she shoveled omelet into her mouth.
Oh, if you’re going to be like that, then I have my piece to say, too. I shall tell you the truth of this world… I took my cup of coffee in hand, sipped from it, and puffed out my chest. “That’s not really a bad thing. Forcing yourself even when you hate it will just make both parties unhappy.”
“Agh…I feel like you’re never gonna be able to get married, Bro.” Komachi breathed a good grief sort of sigh.
What’s with that attitude? It’s not like I said anything strange. More like I understand that marriage probably isn’t gonna happen for me, so could you just not say that out loud? Your big brother tells himself every day that he’ll be a househusband to imprint it into his subconscious in his attempt to avoid singledom.
Plus, refusing to bend for the sake of marriage is just part of who I am.
You shouldn’t fake who you really are, and people will always have different values, no matter what. If you’re raised in different environments, then you’re bound to have different preferences, no question. If marriage is failing to recognize those differences and forcibly locking them away for the sake of being together, then that isn’t exactly wedded bliss, is it?
My thoughts continued unabated as I ate my omelet. Yeah, it was good.
“There’s ketchup.”
Well, it’s an omelet, so of course there’s ketchup. Or what? Were you a mayonnaise type? Are you a mayo maniac? Or a Shino-maniac? That’s ultra-relaxing. Komachi wouldn’t have any nostalgia about that song, nor would she even know it existed. Thinking about all this, I raised my head to find her face right there in front of me.
She stared at me hard, then leaned forward and gently touched my cheek with her fingertip.
Huh? I thought, but it seemed there had been some ketchup on my cheek. Then just say so! Your face is too close and it’s annoying and embarrassing and kinda like we’re newlyweds and it’s embarrassing so stop. I shot her a look in protest.
But Komachi wasn’t bothered. She just chuckled. “That was worth a lot of Komachi points.”
“If you hadn’t added that,” I said, wolfing down my salad.
She’s really not a cute little sister… Though if she weren’t always adding comments like that one just now, she’d be supercute. A bitter smile appeared on my lips. Perhaps that smile was why even the tomatoes tasted bitter…
Well, just as I understand Komachi’s strengths and flaws, I think she understands me, too. Family is nice and easy.
At the end of the day, it’s like—even if you don’t get married, just as long as you have a little sister, it’s all good, right? Creators, if you’re gonna put the main unit or disc into a special edition set, then box the little sister with it. It’ll be a real hit.
I went through my usual morning, my typical school day, and then to our regularly scheduled after-school activities. What was unusual that day was the arrival of a slightly different sort of request.
Miss Hiratsuka had come to us with this request and let something land on the desk with a thud.
Yukinoshita’s and Yuigahama’s faces were side by side as they looked alternately between a magazine and a sheet of paper. Yukinoshita had her eyebrows knit together in consternation, while Yuigahama looked dazed, like she wasn’t thinking anything at all.
This seemed to be related to the request, so I popped in from behind to peer down at the desk, wondering what this was about.
The magazine Yuigahama was gaping at was labeled Chiba and filled with familiar images and words. It seemed to be one of those publications you’d call a “community magazine.” Huh? Wait, what? Is that thing filled with special info about Chiba? I’d like to subscribe to it; where do I ask?
Meanwhile, written at the top of the printout Yukinoshita was reading, I could see the word plan in bold. Probably some type of proposal.
“Um…Peachy Chiba Weddings,” Yuigahama said with a deeply interested ooh.
Why’s it named like that magical girl show? This was coming off scarily like that song “Dreamin’,” so I shifted my eyes over to the part Yuigahama was reading.
The aggressively happy romantic content leaped out at me, and I flinched. Come on, I know for a fact that marriage isn’t this ruthlessly positive. “Agh, a marriage special for young people, huh…?” I muttered, annoyed.
But it seemed Miss Hiratsuka’s impression of marriage was not so negative. With her pointer finger toward the ceiling, she explained smoothly. “Yes, they’re making a community magazine in order to stimulate the local economy. So the local government is working together with bridal shops and hotels with wedding venues and such to make this, with the goal of having the younger generation be more deeply informed about the significance of marriage.”
Hmm. So apparently, this community magazine was one of those joint ventures between the government and private industries. Miss Hiratsuka must have brought this magazine as an example.
As Yukinoshita listened to Miss Hiratsuka speak, her eyes traced the lines of words on the proposal sheet. Then she put one hand to her temple, set the paper on the desk, and tapped it. “And what reason might you have for bringing this to us?” Yukinoshita glared at Miss Hiratsuka for a good long moment.
Miss Hiratsuka was at a loss for words. With an urk, she averted her eyes in shame. “W-well, um, you know…some higher-ups said our school should help in some fashion, and I ended up in charge, so…” Miss Hiratsuka replied in a faltering manner as Yukinoshita’s sharp glare pierced her through.
“Why our school? Why us…?” I complained with a sigh.
Miss Hiratsuka blinked a few times, then suddenly, her gaze turned distant. “You want to know why, huh? Yeah… When orders come down, there is no why. That’s what it means to have a job.”
“I didn’t want to hear that. I didn’t want to hear about that…” The last vestiges of my will to get a job disappeared all at once… It’s funny…when you lose your will to get a job, your desire to get married (= desire to become a dependent) shoots up aggressively… Yeah, well, if everyone starts wanting to become a dependent, it’ll do wonders for the marriage rate.
As the battleship of my heart was welcoming the (lifestyle) maintenance crew to its port, Yukinoshita lightly cleared her throat. “The question is, why make us do it?”
“Oh yeah. I mean, this is your job, Miss Hiratsuka…” Up till that point, Yuigahama had been engrossed in the community magazine, but when Yukinoshita spoke, she jerked her head up and gave Miss Hiratsuka a curious look.
Miss Hiratsuka hesitated, perhaps flustered under the purity of her gaze. Then she gave a trembling sob. “I—I mean…I don’t know what to do about m-marriage…”
Finally, the tears came.
…See what you did? You made her cry.
I looked over at Yuigahama, who looked at Yukinoshita.
“Yukinon…”
Uh, this is your fault, too, Yuigahama…
Seeing Miss Hiratsuka sniffling and sobbing in front of her, plus Yuigahama’s tender look, Yukinoshita flinched, then breathed a sigh of resignation. “Agh… We aren’t especially knowledgeable about the topic, either, but we’ll help.”
“…Yeah, thanks.” Miss Hiratsuka sniffed and wiped at her tears as she expressed her gratitude to Yukinoshita. The cuteness was unexpected, especially given her age.
Hurry! Hurry up, someone, marry this woman! If not, I’ll end up taking her!
We poured some tea to calm Miss Hiratsuka, then we began staring at the proposal sheet.
Apparently, the long and short of it was that we’d gotten a page in this community magazine and we were supposed to write some kind of article for it.
“But what should we do?” Yuigahama questioned, folding her arms with a hmm.
Indeed, springing this article on us posed a problem. Miss Hiratsuka must have brought this project to us because she’d been struggling with it, too.
Apparently, some pages had already been set aside for this, so it couldn’t be canceled now. There were only a few ways we could deal with this.
“We just have to write up something to fill the space, right?” I said. “Okay, so we make the whole page ad space and sell it off. Less work for us, and we make money, too. It’s perfect.”
“Hikigaya…you can’t do that.” Miss Hiratsuka shook her head, her expression weary.
That’s a no-go, huh…? I’d thought it was a pretty good idea, though. Agency style: You sell the space elsewhere and make a profit.
“The issue is the deadline… How much time do we have?” Yukinoshita put her cup down with a clink and checked the calendar.
Miss Hiratsuka followed her gaze. “Submission is next week, and it’ll take another week to finish proofreading, I suppose.”
“That’s not much time.” Yukinoshita shot her an accusing look.
But Miss Hiratsuka just smiled wryly, looking tired. “When you have a job, you’ll find yourself pushing work to the back burner without even thinking about it…and that goes double if it’s something you don’t want to start.”
“Oh, I kinda get that.” Yeah. Yeah, I really do. The more you don’t want to do it, the more you keep putting it off. That’s why it’s easier, mentally speaking, to just dash something off if you really hate it. The world is overflowing with frightening rush jobs of that nature, and yet, some of the people responsible for it still get paid, which is the truly terrifying thing. I don’t wanna end up like that, so I figure it’s best for me to not get a job after all.
But it wasn’t like we were getting paid for this, and I doubted it would have to be quality. “So let’s just write up some bullshit and put it in,” I said.
Yukinoshita shook her head. “A text-only section would be tough, too.”
“So you mean we should use layout and design to make it look legit?”
With the power of layout and design, you can take plain text and slap something together. You know, like how they often do with anime—those shows that fill up space with cool lettering or narration. It always makes you suspect they just failed to finish the animation frames on schedule, but with some real stylish textual production, the audience will interpret it in a rather more positive way.
“That would work, if we had the time, but it would be difficult. Besides, do you think an amateur’s design could fill the space properly?”
“Aren’t there templates out there of old work? We can just combine a bunch of them and dump in the text,” I said, and just for an instant, Yukinoshita considered it with a hmm.
Meanwhile, Yuigahama was getting left behind in this conversation. She tugged on Miss Hiratsuka’s sleeve with an expression of terror. “M-Miss Hiratsuka, they’re kinda scaring me…”
“It sounds to me like they can get things done. But still, it’s not exactly what you expect of high school students…”
Yukinoshita ignored Miss Hiratsuka’s wry smile. She must have reached a conclusion, as she put her hand to her temple in exasperation and sighed. “Agh, slacking off is the one thing you’re smart about…”
“I just value efficiency.”
“Regardless, no. The request is for an article that feels like it was created by high schoolers.”
Well, that was a reasonable point. If they’d wanted something professional, they wouldn’t have passed the baton to us in the first place.
Something high school students would create… What do all those honchos in town hall think is high schooler–ish? Is it the energy of a high school basketball player? Or, like, the chattery glee of a modern high school girl?
I reflected on myself, then examined Yukinoshita once more. “Then this whole project is a nonstarter, since neither of us is exactly a typical high schooler,” I said.
“…Indeed.” Yukinoshita’s shoulders drooped, as if I’d more or less convinced her, and she looked away.
“Normally, you decide on what you’re going to do first. If you’re thinking about filling space first and foremost… You kids are so jaded,” Miss Hiratsuka said with exasperation, or perhaps a bit of wonder, after she watched our conversation.
We were well aware of that, too. I sighed.
No, wait.
There was someone…some normal high school student… When the idea hit me suddenly, my eyes turned in that direction. “Yuigahama, you’re ordinary. This is your big moment.”
“You don’t have to put it like that!” Yuigahama was huffily indignant.
But Yukinoshita followed up, her face serious. “Could we ask this of you, Yuigahama?”
“I don’t really know what to think when you ask now, of all times!” Despite receiving a long-awaited opportunity to do her thing, Yuigahama complained, tearing up.
I think her normalness is pretty valuable. Personally, I believe it helps Yukinoshita in a lot of ways. It’s okay for her to be normal.
Yuigahama moaned in reluctance, but when Yukinoshita gave her a wordless glance, she moaned some more, then seemed to make up her mind.
Yuigahama folded her arms.
Then she put her head in her hands.
Then she stared vacantly into the air.
It seemed she’d used her head too much and had caused herself brain trauma. She had a dazed look on her face, as if she’d thought her soul right out of her body.
But then suddenly, she clapped her hands. “Oh, we could get people to send in designs for a wedding dress or something!”
“I doubt too many people can draw up designs like that,” I countered. I’d considered something like that, too, but it would be a difficult plan to execute. It would also be difficult to find that many people to do designs. It wasn’t the time to be going around to each and every person, asking, Will you wind? Yes/no.
Yuigahama pressed her hands against her head as hard as she could, then jolted forward. “Um, then…a wedding dress contest! Or something?”
“Timewise, it would be difficult for us to take applications from the whole school,” Yukinoshita answered.
Since the deadline to hand it in was next week, ensuring the whole school was notified while simultaneously organizing the event would be impossible. Even if we were to shrink the editing time and sync up the schedule accordingly, an extra week wouldn’t change much.
I felt bad, since Yuigahama was trying to come up with things for us, but you can’t win when you’re fighting against the man. Well, this wasn’t really the man. Just a deadline. They should get rid of deadlines altogether.
Yuigahama tried again, racking her brains with an audible mrrrrrrg, but then she seemed to give up. Her arms unfolded. “Um, marriage, marriage, marriage… Hmm, I don’t really know. It just doesn’t feel real to me, I guess.”
“Well,” I said, “it’s not something we think about much, at our age.” Next year, I’d basically be old enough to get married legally, but it didn’t really feel immediate to me. The two girls had to feel the same.
But then I heard a very serious-sounding mutter. “I guess so… When I was your age, I wasn’t thinking about it at all…”
Yuigahama and I automatically went silent, looking away without a word.
“…”
“…”
Uh, so what do we do about the dour mood in here? This isn’t the time to be gazing out the window, Miss Hiratsuka.
Meanwhile, Yukinoshita alone seemed to fall silent for slightly different reasons. She put her hand to her chin thoughtfully. “Thinking about it…,” she muttered.
“Hmm?” I responded.
Yukinoshita nodded twice as if she had convinced herself of something. “We aren’t thinking about it, and that may mean an opinion poll would make a good topic.”
“Ohhh, I see! It might be kinda fun to have everyone fill out some kind of survey.” Yuigahama applauded.
An opinion poll or survey, huh? It did seem like a convenient plan for filling up the space. For graduation albums and stuff, they have those Top Three People Most Likely to X. When you’re doing those, could you not force in the really stupid, pointless category—People Most Likely to Become Company Presidents in the Future—out of consideration for people whose names aren’t listed elsewhere? The kindness just makes it hurt more. Oh yeah, that reminds me that the last page of my graduation album is completely blank. Was that a misprint or something?
Maybe they should just make this community magazine thing blank and add some title like To the Future~To Love Marriage~ and make it a page for collecting signatures. Then just slap on something that fits, like You fill these pages. That’d fool some people.
I was giving it due consideration in my own way, but Yukinoshita seemed to be seriously pondering the matter, too. “Surveying the whole school or grade level would be too time-consuming, so it may be best to narrow it down to one class…”
“That doesn’t seem statistically useful.” Just one class is actually grad album level—far from valid statistical parameters for an opinion poll. Not like we were doing an academic survey, though, so it didn’t really matter.
Of course, Yukinoshita was aware of this. “There’s no way around it, in this situation. If we come up with a good page layout and put in an editorial write-up and such, it should look fairly decent.”
Then Miss Hiratsuka, who had been watching us until this point, said, “Hmm, a write-up, huh? That’ll be your job, then, Hikigaya.”
“Why me…?” There are two other people here… I had a hunch that essay-wise, Yuigahama is pretty…y’know, and Yukinoshita’s content would be kinda…y’know, but I can confidently say I’m not much better, y’know! And hey, wasn’t this originally the teacher’s job?
I’d poured almost my whole heart into that Why me. Miss Hiratsuka heard my plea, then told me her very clear-cut reason: “You always write such asinine reports and essays. This’ll be a snap for you.”
Nobody would do it after hearing that… Come on, where’s your leadership skills?
I must really have looked reluctant, as Miss Hiratsuka combed back her hair with a hand and winked at me. “Content aside, I do think highly of your writing ability.”
When she smiled at me like that, it got harder to resist. “…Well, it’s not like I couldn’t write it…”
Embarrassed, I looked away. My eyes landed on Yukinoshita, who was pressing her temple for some reason. “It seems this is gonna be a tough editing project for me…”
Uh, I didn’t ask you, though… Actually, I feel like you’d red pen the whole thing, so please no. Let’s make our editorial policy to water the Hachi-plant with compliments!
Seeing Yukinoshita’s sigh, Miss Hiratsuka smirked mischievously. “Oh, so you’ll keep an eye on him for me, Yukinoshita? Then I can rest easy.”
“…I don’t mind doing that much, at least.” Yukinoshita jerked her head away grumpily and adjusted her collar.
Uh, but I didn’t ask you, though… Come on, are you chief editor now?
“All righty, then! Now we just have to think up survey questions,” Yuigahama said, sitting back down in her chair. Anyway, since we’d come up with an objective, we’d have to get cracking.
Miss Hiratsuka turned to face us once more. “Well then, before we pass the survey on to everyone, why don’t we do a little trial run?”
We rummaged around the room to scrounge up some paper, and then we all came up with some questions that seemed appropriate. Yukinoshita compiled them into a list, Miss Hiratsuka left for a bit to make copies, and then we all wrote down our own answers. Once we were about done, Miss Hiratsuka scanned the room.
“Okay, let’s see what we’ve got,” she said, then took up one of the sheets she’d collected from us.
Q. What income level do you seek in a partner?
A. Over 1,000,000 yen
“Hikigaya…”
“Hikki…”
Yukinoshita and Yuigahama both said my name with dismay, looking at me with dull eyes.
“Hold on there. How’d you know that was me?”
“You can tell just by looking at your writing…” Yuigahama glared at me.
Yukinoshita brushed her hair off her shoulder. “Do you believe you’re worth that much? You have no friends, you’re abysmal in sciences, your employment prospects are doubtful, and you have no future. And you have the eyes of a dead fish…”
“Shut up. There are tons of soft souls out there in the world who’ll give similar answers.”
You see it a lot on those marriage-hunting specials they do on the variety segments on the evening news—women in their thirties who come for those marriage-hunting parties will write answers like this. But the people who meet their standards are in real high demand, so they won’t go to those parties in the first place. I wouldn’t say these women are dreaming too much—it’s more accurate to say they’re not looking at reality clearly enough.
“W-well, um, you know. It’s good to set your sights high, uh-huh.”
For once, Miss Hiratsuka was on my side. Thank you, Teacher! So…what was written on that paper hidden behind your back?
“A-anyway! We’ve got our questions, so let’s start sampling!” Miss Hiratsuka must have noticed my rotten look, as she bounded to her feet.
Yuigahama volunteered to go do the sampling, so in the meantime, I zoned out and waited for her. Miss Hiratsuka reviewed her own answers to the survey, muttering something as she reexamined herself.
As for Yukinoshita, she was reading her usual paperback. Her shoulders suddenly twitched, and she closed her book.
The door banged open.
“There were still some people around, so I got them to fill out the surveys!” Yuigahama marched in proudly, holding up a stack of papers. Hey, is this Yukinoshita’s special superpower? It’s like my family cat when Komachi comes home…
“Thank you, Yuigahama. Sorry for making you do that,” Yukinoshita said to her.
Yuigahama sat down in her usual spot and replied, “No, it’s totally okay. It looked like the only people still around were from our class anyway.”
As Yuigahama said, of the papers she spread out for us, only a few had been filled in. However, Yuigahama was probably the only one of us who would have been able to get this much done.
“Well, if I asked people to do it, they wouldn’t give us anything,” I said.
“Indeed,” replied Yukinoshita. “If you were to attempt that, Hikigaya, I’m sure you’d sound like you were selling religion or some dubious product.”
“You got it. They just couldn’t handle my bad boy charisma.” Her remark had stung a little, so I snapped back at her. Yukinoshita breathed an exasperated sigh.
Another sigh followed before she was even done. “In your case, the scary part is that I think you really would start a religion…,” Miss Hiratsuka said with a perfectly straight face.
Come on, it’s like you actually mean it…
But anyway, if Yukinoshita had been the one to go try to get these filled out, I think it would have made them wary. They’d gently reject her attempt, and that would be the end of that.
Even I was on the verge of sighing, but Yuigahama intervened. “Come on, guys. How about we just look at these?”
As prompted, we fanned out the papers on the desk and inspected them. Yuigahama read out one.
Q. What do you think is a good job for a marriage partner?
A. I want to marry a voice actor!
I immediately understood who was responsible for that.
“Okay, okay, next. Wait, he’s not even in our class…”
Instantly flicking aside Zaimokuza’s paper, I looked at each of the sheets in turn.
Q. Do you have any anxieties about marriage?
A. No way am I cooking. Or cleaning. Not happening.
A. Relationship with my mother-in-law, whether I’d be living with the in-laws, inheritance and such. Since I have a lot of siblings.
A. I’m anxious about where Hayama/Hachiman is going.
Huh, I thought, looking at the answers and feeling slightly weary. Especially that last one. They didn’t have to write their names—it was obvious who’d written each one. I could finish this game without looking at the walk-through.
“I can basically tell who wrote these…”
“Well, they are from our class.”
Indeed, as Yuigahama said, all these responses had clearly come from our classmates. Probably Miura, Kawa-something, and Ebina…
You know, Miura is very consistent in her own way. I can respect that. As expected of the queen.
Kawa-something… Sounds like nothing goes her way. It’s very Sachi Usuko, so I do sincerely hope she does her best to find happiness.
And Ebina’s…you know.
“I dunno if we should print this.” Yukinoshita tilted her head, considering.
Uh, that’s not even worth thinking about. You know it’s no good…
It seemed I was not the only one thinking this. Flipping through the stack of papers, Miss Hiratsuka mused, “Hmm. These answers seem a little divorced from reality.”
“Are you in any position to be saying that…?” I gave Miss Hiratsuka a hard look.
Yuigahama, meanwhile, ignored me, folding her arms as she pondered the matter. “But we wouldn’t know the good and bad stuff about being married, so there’s no way for us to answer. I bet there’s plenty you wouldn’t know unless you’ve experienced it yourself…”
Well, my own personal sample is just my parents, and it’s not like I observe them consciously. Maybe I’d find another answer if I thought more closely, but it seems incredibly difficult to put yourself in someone else’s shoes and try to think from their perspective. This is especially true at puberty, when you’re at your most self-conscious.
No matter what you do, you can’t become anyone else.
And if you feel that way even with your parents, actually getting married and living together with a stranger is bound to be far more difficult than you can imagine.
As I pondered, Yukinoshita opened her mouth as if she’d just remembered something. “I may have an idea, if we need a young person who’s experienced something similar already.”
“Huh? Really?” Yuigahama asked with deep interest, and Yukinoshita smiled wide.
“Yes, when it comes to understanding the trials of taking care of a deadbeat in your life, then perhaps she knows best of all.”
Yukinoshita’s response was very specific, and I couldn’t help getting sparkly eyes.
Huh? You know someone like that? For real? Sounds like the type that might support me. Hurry up and introduce me to her, please. Now I’ve basically won at life.
…Or so I thought.
Not even an hour later, the idea Yukinoshita had spoken of walked into the clubroom. This was indeed a familiar face. Truly, I hadn’t seen it since this morning.
“So why Komachi?” My eyes, which had earlier been sparkling, took a turn to stinking rotten. Meanwhile, Komachi was wearing a beaming smile as she stood in front of the door.
“Did I not say? She understands the trials of caring for a deadbeat.”
That deadbeat is absolutely, without a doubt me, isn’t it…? Well, she hasn’t said I should be dead, so the insult is relatively mild. Maybe she’s in a good mood today?
Once Yukinoshita had summarized the situation, Komachi nodded. “I see, I see. Please show me that survey.” She stuck out her hand, and Yukinoshita handed over the stack of paper. Komachi looked at every page, nodding. “…I see! I feel like I’ve got a sense of the trends you’re all concerned with.”
My sister is known for her skill in picking up ideas quickly and dealing with issues as they come, and this was no exception. Well, Zaimokuza aside, Miura’s and Kawasaki’s anxieties about future marriage were understandable. Ebina’s was not even worth discussing; Komachi and the rest of us seemed to reach the same conclusion on that one.
“Yeah, so we were just wondering about what we should do next,” said Yuigahama.
“We can’t simply submit this as is… If you have any ideas, we would be grateful for your help,” Yukinoshita added.
Komachi rubbed her temple with a finger as she considered. “Hmm, hmm… Ah! Komachi’s got an idea!” And then she clapped her hands.
I’m suspicious of these strangely dramatic gestures… It really looks like she’s cooking up another of her nefarious schemes…
But the others took no notice of my anxieties, looking at her with hope in their eyes. As the center of attention, Komachi raised her pointer finger and proudly declared, “What I see from this opinion poll now is that all these people have staggeringly low levels of brideness.”
“What’s brideness…?” I said.
“Don’t sweat the details. Basically, we address the question of how to become more bride-like instead!” Komachi chirped. Not only did she casually ignore my question, she’d even started to twist this plan in the direction she wanted it to go.
Miss Hiratsuka said, “Hmm, sort of like a bride-training special?”
“Komachi likes that phrase! I’ll take it! ” Komachi did this funny gesture like she was making a note on her palm, stood from her seat, and declared loudly, “Now then…the bride training starts immediately! The heart-fluttering brideness showdown~! Duh-duh-duh-duuuh!”
Yukinoshita, Miss Hiratsuka, and I all looked at Komachi doubtfully, but Yuigahama applauded with inexplicable enthusiasm.
“Again, what even is brideness…?”
My question would go eternally unanswered.
Komachi had some stuff to set up for this brideness showdown, apparently, so it was decided we would hold it later.
And then it was the day of the event. We all gathered in the clubroom, but then the girls disappeared off somewhere at Komachi’s behest. I waited a while for them to call for me.
In the meantime, I was left alone in the Service Club room, forced to kill time. Not that I minded. I’ve always been good at holding down the fort.
While I was absorbed in the paperback I had on me, my cell phone buzzed. I checked it to see Komachi had sent me a text.
…‘Come to the home ec room’? Just what is she gonna make us do? Still, I generally meet my sister’s demands. That’s just who I am.
I ditched the clubroom and headed to the home ec room.
The empty hallways after school are so nice. They’re so silent you might forget about their usual clamor. However, as I got closer to the home ec room, it became strangely noisy. I could occasionally even hear something like yelling.
Come on… Now I’m scared of going in there…
But I’d already reached the door. Rallying my courage, I opened it.
And there I saw Komachi waiting for me in an apron. “Oh, you’re finally here. All right, Bro, let’s get started.”
“Start? Start what?” I asked.
Komachi boldly posed with her hands on her hips. “Bride training! It starts right now! The heart-fluttering brideness showdown~ ,” she cried, and then she smoothly pulled a ladle out from behind her. Hammerspace? Really?
Komachi held up the ladle like a microphone and turned around. “Showdown number one is cooking!”
Behind her were Yukinoshita, Yuigahama, and Miss Hiratsuka, all in aprons just like Komachi. Farther behind them was a set of table and chairs, and two familiar faces were sitting there.
“Please and thank you to all our judges!” Komachi called, and one of the two in back waved.
“I have no idea why you called me here, but…good luck, everyone!”
“Herm, story premises these days are indeed so deep they require explanation… So be it! This Master Swordsman General shall resign himself to this fate!”
It was Totsuka and Zaimokuza. Had Komachi invited them here?
I stood there, confused, and Komachi indicated a seat at that table. “Go on, Bro. Take a seat at the judges’ table.”
So apparently, the ones in aprons were going to cook, and it was the job of those at the table to be judges. I had some misgivings about this, but if I were to show reluctance, I knew she would do whatever it took to force me into it.
I obediently sat down in the chair she’d set out for me.
There were, frankly, many things about this turn of events that I could complain about, but I would just go for the one at the top of the list. “Should Totsuka be sitting with us? Hey, is he in the right place?” I asked Komachi in a whisper, just to be sure, but my sister casually ignored me and turned back to the other girls. The cold shoulder, huh? Harsh.
“The theme here is Mom’s cooking, specifically what boys want. First up to bat is Yui!” Komachi called out to her, and Yuigahama boldly stepped up front. In her hands was a plate topped with the kind of silver cover you see in fancy restaurants.
“Um, you’re serving…?” Komachi asked.
“Japanese-style Salisbury steak!” Yuigahama answered as she popped off the silver cover and boldly unveiled her masterpiece.
But when Komachi saw it, her reaction was not favorable.
“…Whaaa?” Komachi violently cringed away.
No surprise there. That blackened substance and goopy sauce. The grated daikon was dyed deep brown; the onions, devastated.
…Japanese-style? What about this is Japanese-style? It looks more like a barren volcano, and there’s no style of any sort to be had… If you told me that was Mount Kilauea, I think I’d believe it. And which part of that is even hamburger? Is it even edible, actually?
Zaimokuza, however, ignored my cringing. He must have been excited about eating a girl’s homemade cooking, as he gallantly reached out his hand. “Grfem, grfem. Oh, no, no, no! Yoshi-no Nanjou! There is an old saying: You cannot judge a book by its cover. I warrant the form of these rations conceals its brilliance…” Zaimokuza made like he was saying something cool for once, but his declaration was not only actually completely false, it accomplished nothing.
He spooned some of the Salisbury steak into his mouth, and then, as if the shock of divine revelation were running through him, his eyes flared wide. “Nghhh!” he moaned. “Bleagh.” He gave a very plain, quiet groan, then fell face-first onto the desk, following which he did not even twitch. Utter silence fell.
And the culprit was in this very room…
Komachi gave Zaimokuza a long, hard look, and once she had confirmed resuscitation was unlikely, she spun around to face me. “Uhhh, Snowflake’s out, so next…Bro.”
“Huh?” I pointed at myself, confused, and Yuigahama’s cooking was slid in front of me.
“Ngh…” I engaged in a staring contest with this brutal image, then fell silent.
Though Zaimokuza did have a reputation for obnoxious overreactions, seeing someone get hit that hard will drain your confidence. I sat frozen there as Yuigahama fiddled with the bun in her hair and gave a little ah-ha-ha to cover her embarrassment.
“Y-you don’t have to f-force yourself to eat it, Hikki…” She looked away, eyes listing downward, laughing an empty laugh.
Oh, I don’t want to force myself, either. I don’t like having anything forced down my throat, after all. Reason should always come before force.
But I couldn’t call surrender here, either. I should be thankful for the blessings of life, and Zaimokuza had already sacrificed himself, and… Well. Anyway. Might as well, y’know.
Oh, and most importantly, I couldn’t make Totsuka eat this.
In an attempt to find my courage, I looked over at Totsuka beside me.
“Hachiman? What’s wrong?” My sudden look must have confused him, as he tilted his head, smiling brightly.
I want to protect this smile…
Right now, I am the only one who can. No more reason. It’s time for force.
With determination, I took up my chopsticks, grabbed the plate, and sloshed it into my mouth all at once.
Every crunch and munch and slurp was a whole season’s worth of Battlefield Baseball in flavor.
“Hikki…” I got the feeling that Yuigahama’s eyes were a little moist as she looked at me, but frankly, my own eyes were so moist I really couldn’t say.
As everyone watched and held their breath, I managed to swallow it down.
The home ec room was filled with silence, the only sound the clink of me putting my chopsticks down.
I breathed a short sigh and slowly said, “Um…well, let’s put it this way. If you brace yourself and force it down, it could be edible…”
Forget brideness, I’m having doubts about her humanness.
“How is that comment supposed to make me feel?!” Yuigahama cried out, a little heartbroken.
If you’re gonna be like that, then put in a little more effort… I sure as heck did.
“When you say that looking so green in the face…” Yukinoshita was looking exasperated and going “Good grief” as Komachi smoothly lined up beside her.
“Next is Yukino!” she prompted.
So Yukinoshita carried over her own dish. Just like Yuigahama’s a moment ago, this platter was also covered with one of those silver lids you pop off.
“Announce your creation, please!”
“Paella…” Yukinoshita revealed the dish to show a pretty paella.
Yuigahama peered at the plate and cried out in admiration. “Ohhh~, Italian food!”
“Paella comes from Spain,” Yukinoshita said flatly.
Yuigahama was confused. “Huh? But they have it at Italian restaurants… Huh?”
I understood the feeling. It’s true they have paella at Saize. They write (paella) next to the Mediterranean-style pilaf.
This was the paella carried before us judges. The seafood dish was loaded with meat and vegetables, and the saffron fried rice looked brilliant, too. I could almost feel the wind of the distant Mediterranean… Not like I’ve ever been to the Mediterranean, though.
Since I’d finished off Yuigahama’s meal just a moment ago, I decided to let Totsuka go first this time. Yukinoshita had made this, so there was no need for concern.
“Go ahead,” I said, yielding it to him.
Totsuka beamed a smile, immediately taking his spoon in hand. Then he took a bite. “Wow, you really are a great cook, Yukinoshita!”
“It’s nothing much. It’s just a question of practice.” This wasn’t Yukinoshita being modest—she believed it sincerely and spoke with her usual calm.
Following Totsuka, I decided to have some, too. There was absolutely nothing to nitpick here: The rice was properly cooked, the ingredients were balanced, and the presentation was appetizing. But it didn’t come off all that wifely…
“It’s as good as you’d expect, so I can’t really comment…” As I was thinking that I didn’t particularly have anything to say, Yuigahama raised her hand.
“Me too! I want some, too!”
“Okeydoke, let’s all have some afterward, okay~?” Komachi cut in, gently pushing Yuigahama aside. “Well then, next is Komachi’s. Here we go, beef stew!”
Komachi brought this out without any particular airs, but I knew better than any of them just what a good cook Komachi was. It was good, as always. But, like, why was she even participating? I’ve got no intention of giving her away, so there’s no point in her cultivating brideness.
“Yeah, well, you know, it’s the usual,” I said. “Also, that’s a manipulative choice.”
“Ngh, our closeness backfires…,” Komachi said with a click of her tongue.
Totsuka quickly slid in with a supportive comment. “But it’s really good, though?” His warm words were artless and straightforward, which gave them such an edge of truth it brought Komachi to tears.
Sob. “You’re a good person, Totsuka… You have a high brideness stat…”
“I think so, too…,” I agreed. Frankly, Totsuka has far and away the most. Komachi and I both sighed for different reasons.
But Komachi shook her head and snapped herself out of it. “Ah, wake up, Komachi! Now it’s time for our star, Miss Hiratsuka.”
Appropriate for such a title, Miss Hiratsuka put on a bold smile brimming with confidence and strode up front.
“What did you make, Miss Hiratsuka?” I asked.
“Heh-heh-heh. This!” She lifted the silver lid with a “Ta-daa!” to reveal a brown meaty plate. It was a huge serving of meat and bean sprouts, with a big bowl of rice on the side.
It was meat, meat, meat, ready to whet the instincts and awaken the wild beast within. The fragrant scent stimulated the appetite in such a way that my stomach went from full to empty.
This combo was a familiar one. There was no mistaking it.
“Th-this is…just meat with bean sprouts, fried up with yakiniku sauce poured on it!” I cried.
“Does this count as cooking…?” Yukinoshita seemed a little confused.
But Miss Hiratsuka ignored her and asked me, full of confidence, “What do you think, Hikigaya?”
This is so frustrating! But I’m feeling it! (The flavor.)
Regrettable as it is, I’m forced to acknowledge it… “It’s good… It’s so good… This yaki sauce is great…”
“Compliment me.” Miss Hiratsuka glared at me, a vein popping in her forehead.
Uh, but if that counts as cooking, then I can do that myself… Menu-wise, that’s pretty low brideness, you know?
In the end, cooking alone wasn’t enough to measure brideness, so the contest moved on to the next stage.
“All right, next is the bride quiz: What would you do?!” Komachi announced. “Come on, come on, sit, sit.” With barely an explanation, she beckoned the girls over to a long table and made them sit in a row. Meanwhile, Totsuka was still left in a judge’s seat, and Zaimokuza’s corpse was abandoned on the spot. As a member of the Service Club, I was unable to deny Komachi’s request for help and had no choice but to obediently do what she told me.
“Now I’m going to pose brideness evaluation questions to all of you. Everyone, please put yourself in the position of a wife as you write your answers.”
Hmm, meaning we’re going to do some case studies in quiz format? So those seats at the long table are for the people answering. Uh-huh. Then it was obvious where I should be sitting.
“Right then, let’s get to it… Wait, why are you sitting there, Bro?”
“’Cause I aspire to be a househusband.”
Komachi questioned my seating choice, but my answer was extremely simple. Earlier, I’d been working as judge, so I hadn’t been able to participate in the cooking showdown—but I’ve got way more brideness than these people. Now, I will show you what it means to be a bride.
“You can do it, Hachiman!” Totsuka waved at me from the judges’ seats, and I replied with a grin.
Komachi gave us the smile of one who has given up. “Oh well. Then let’s get started~. Question: ‘Your mother-in-law has complained about how you clean. What do you do now?’ Please write your answers on your boards!”
Oh, we have boards? Indeed, a mini–white board was in front of me, with a dry-erase pen. When did Komachi set this up…?
Without hesitation, I swiftly wrote my response. Since I had some time after finishing, I glanced around at the others to see Yuigahama groaning and Yukinoshita’s pen flowing across the board, though her face was stony. Miss Hiratsuka muttered to herself as she scribbled aggressively.
Once she saw we were all done, Komachi called, “Right, then! Answers! Bam!” She pointed at us in order, right to left, and one after another we revealed our boards.
First was Yuigahama. With a cry of “Here we go!” She lifted up her board dramatically.
“‘Say I’m sorry and do it over.’”
It was a Yuigahama-like answer. But I’ve seen on TV that if you don’t get along with your mother-in-law, then no matter how you apologize, you’ll get beaten down hard, so I can’t say that’s a good rule of thumb… Sounds like a rough situation…
Next, Yukinoshita revealed her answer, looking disinterested.
“‘Explain how my way of cleaning is more logical in every way.’”
Ohhh, this feels like The Yukinoshita Way, all right. She’d argue her mother-in-law down, so no problems there. But the price you pay is that everyone else fights, too. I mean, the husband would be losing arguments, I’m sure, making it a rough situation for everyone else.
Then Miss Hiratsuka chuckled with confidence and answered:
“‘Speak with my fists.’”
Hmm. Conversing with physical language. That’s really, huh, like someone who’s watched too much shonen anime and thinks everything can be solved by a one-on-one fight. Under the most optimistic interpretation possible, you could say this allows for some opposition while you strive for reconciliation. Under the interpretation of a normal person, it’s like, What the hell is she talking about?
Finally, it was my turn.
I flipped up my board.
“‘I’d make her miso soup stronger.’”
Ensuring your revenge releases stress, and plus, if you can distract from the initial problem by introducing a new cause for conflict, then she won’t complain about the cleaning anymore. It’s kind of like getting even for what happened in Edo while you’re in Nagasaki. And to top it all off, if you can chip away at her health with unhealthy levels of sodium, then you’ve basically won…
“Oh-ho~. That’s a unique answer… Well, that’s a no for both the teacher and my brother.” Sweeping her gaze over the answers, Komachi made an X with her fingers and a wry smile with her lips.
No good, huh? Well, I guess weakening her health with too much salt is rather unrealistic. It’s better to go for sugar instead, then? I feel like sweetness is less likely to get noticed than saltiness.
Man, none of these quiz answers are any good, huh…? I was thinking to myself when Komachi slipped a board out from behind her back. It seemed she did have a model answer.
“The model answer, in Komachi terms, is this: ‘Complain to your mother about it and try again tomorrow.’”
“That’s a weirdly realistic answer!” Yuigahama said with a slight cringe.
It’s true. You can really tell that she’s just trying so hard, even as she suffers. Uh, so is some relative of ours giving her trouble?
Considering what a heavy answer she’d just come up with, Komachi didn’t seem too bothered. She cheerfully and calmly moved on. “Onward and upward~. Our next question is this,” she said, and suddenly her tone turned theatrical. “‘Tomorrow is Christmas. But the hubby’s a useless good-for-nothing, so this month might be tight…’” Komachi sniffled and put on a sad look.
Yukinoshita muttered, “Oh my, just like a certain someone.”
“Right?” Yuigahama gave a big nod.
“Well, some men are like that. Supporting them is what good wives do,” Miss Hiratsuka gravely replied.
Hey? Guys, could you please not say things like that while looking at me?
All three of them were talking, causing Komachi to pause in her reading of the question. She put her hand on her waist and drew her eyebrows together. “We’re still in the middle of the question~… ‘So in this situation, what do you do about presents for the kids?’” After reading it to the end this time, Komachi tilted her head cutely. Taking that as our signal, we all started writing out answers.
The ticktock of the second hand on the clock was joined by the squeak of the dry-erase markers. When she figured enough time had passed, Komachi called out, “Time’s up! Right then, answers! Bam!”
Just like last time, she started with Yuigahama.
“‘Cheap toys.’”
Taking it down a level, huh? Well, that was the safest option. But kids know way more about what toys are worth than adults do, so I think they’d kinda notice the difference… But maybe that would result in socially perceptive kids.
Yukinoshita was next.
“‘Books.’”
I see. It depends on the book you give them, but the wonderful experience of reading could well be an invaluable source of happiness. Good performance for the cost. Very much the sort of opinion you’d get from a bookworm.
Next was the beaming Miss Hiratsuka.
“‘Blu-ray box set of a great anime.’”
That’s just what you want.
Well, last was me.
“‘Explain that Santa doesn’t give presents to bad children.’”
…Which was something my father told me. That bastard… What a thing to say to me when I was still a child… My mother did get me a proper present after that, so it was okay, but I had already made up my young mind to go take down Santa…
Seeing all the answers, Komachi smacked herself on the forehead. “Awww, it looks like none of you actually listened to the question. The point of this one is how you deal with the problem,” she said, wagging her finger. It seemed the question had not been asking what you give them. “And so, the Komachi answer is this.” She pulled out her board to show us and read it out.
“‘Let your parents handle it.’”
“Really…?” In her exasperation, Yukinoshita gave Komachi a chilly look.
Komachi waggled her finger with a tsk, tsk, tsk. “It’s okay. Grandma and Grandpa will be super-duper sweet on the grandkids. Source: Komachi.”
Seeing Komachi point to herself, I suddenly remembered. Now that she mentioned it, she was right. Back when I was still a tiny grandkid, Grandma and Grandpa had been real nice. “Well, that’s true,” I said. “But once there’s a younger kid, the attention shifts.”
“The melancholy of the eldest child.” Miss Hiratsuka cracked a teasing smile.
Aw, I wouldn’t even call it melancholy. Right now, I’m probably the one in our house sweetest on Komachi anyway.
The girl in question looked over at the judges’ seats. “Um, so having seen all this, Judge Totsuka, what are your thoughts in Totsuka terms?” she asked.
Totsuka had been observing all this time. He mulled over the question, complete with thinking noises, then grinned. “Getting books as a present is really nice, isn’t it?”
Okay, now I know what I’m getting him for Christmas this year.
It’ll be a book. But what kind of book…? He’s in the tennis club, after all, so maybe a tennis-y one? Or some kind of classic fairy tale, novel, or story. My recommendation there is The Little Prince. Okay, then I’ll cover both bases and go with The Prince of Tennis!
As I was pondering this, Totsuka’s interview time came to an end, and Komachi took over again as MC. “Okeydoke! Thank you very much! Righty then, this is your last question~.” With that, her dramatic flair returned for the next question. “‘Lately, the hubby’s been coming home late… He couldn’t be…cheating? What do you do?’ Okay, answers on your boards!”
In the answer seats, Yuigahama was groaning to herself in thought; Yukinoshita was silent, her face a mask except for the occasional smirk; while Miss Hiratsuka was muttering something as she clenched her fists and enthusiastically cracked her knuckles.
Maybe it’s late to be saying this, but I don’t like being in this seat…
Hoping to make this end sooner, I quickly scribbled my answer on my board, and then Komachi told us time was up. “And time~. All right, answers all at once, please.” Komachi flung her hands in front of her, and this time, we all revealed our responses simultaneously.
“‘Worry.’” Yuigahama’s response was already worrying.
“‘Give him the third degree.’” Yukinoshita’s tone was sharp as a blade.
“‘Sanctions administered with a fist,’” Miss Hiratsuka said while clenching a fist of her own.
“‘Get a divorce and wring a settlement and child support out of it,’” I said as I put out my sign.
Komachi examined each answer, nodded, and hmm’d. “That’s everyone, huh?”
Following Komachi’s eyes as she examined each answer with care, I scanned the other answers, too. My eyes stopped on one. “Give him the third degree? What? Scary…”
Yukinoshita tilted her head, her expression blank. “Oh, perhaps I meant ‘interrogate him.’ But that’s about the same thing, isn’t it?” She smiled sweetly.
Yikes. What the hell? I wasn’t the only one freaked out—Totsuka and Yuigahama were, too, of course, and even Miss Hiratsuka was a little taken aback.
But it seemed it was not an unacceptable answer, in Komachi terms.
“Aside from my brother’s, these answers are generally on the right track. But Komachi’s idea of a correct answer is this.” She held up her own board. “‘Believe in him.’” This one is worth a lot of Komachi points.”
Komachi’s solution did make for a nice story, and all the girls gave little ohhhs of admiration. Her understanding was rather deep for a middle schooler—or maybe she had that tendency to dream because she was a middle schooler? No matter how you slice it, though, if you pick this answer and they are cheating, you’ll be in for a world of pain.
I don’t think trust is a good thing, necessarily, at least not in all situations. Mistrust—suspicion, in other words—will defend you emotionally. Abandoning such protections is essentially hurting yourself for nothing. “Should you?” I asked, an implicit admonishment and rejection of this idea.
But Komachi cutely tilted her head. “Hmm, the kind of person Komachi would like would probably not cheat…more like a weirdly conscientious hinedere. I don’t think I’d have to worry.”
“…Does a guy like that even exist?” Don’t be dumb, Komachi… I mean, this nonsensical “weirdly conscientious hinedere” guy can’t be worth it. Pick someone better.
“You’d be surprised.” Komachi gave a shy and bashful smile but then immediately switched over to her usual high energy. “Okay, at last, the final competition!” she called loudly, and finally, the last round of the heart-fluttering brideness showdown was at hand.
Seriously, what even is brideness?
They made me wait for quite some time in the home ec room, so I was sitting there all zoned out.
It seemed Totsuka had slipped out from his club practice during a break, so he had to leave. He seemed disappointed he couldn’t see the wedding dresses at the end, but it was nothing compared with the heartbreak I felt when I realized I couldn’t see Totsuka in a wedding dress… Though actually, for this, I wouldn’t mind him in a tux, either! In fact, I want to see that!
As I was voicelessly venting to myself, the door slid open noisily, and Komachi came in. Looking over, I saw she was wearing a wedding dress.
It wasn’t the orthodox style—more of a miniskirt, and instead of pure-white fabric, it was yellow. The whole thing was a bit aggressive—healthy, bright, and distinctly cute.
Just like the impression the dress color gave, Komachi was even more worked up than before. “It’s the joyful and embarrassing bridal outfit showdown~! Komachi even put on a different color. Bro, look, look!”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re the cutest in the world,” I said.
Komachi’s shoulders slumped, and the energy in her voice flagged. “There it is, the Hachiman apathy. Well, whatever. So first, we start with Yui,” Komachi said toward the door, an announcement followed by the timid sound of the door sliding open.
Yuigahama poked her face inside for a nervous peek, but then she seemed to steel herself and come in.
The fabric of her dress was pinkish and eye-catching, and it went well with her hair color. Her mini-length skirt puffed out, drawing attention to her surprisingly slender legs. The skirt pulled in tight at her waist, and the revealing bodice sparkled with dazzling sequins and lamé. Frankly, it was hard to look straight at it.
Maybe she was nervous, or maybe she was just unused to wearing something like this, as she walked in an awkward and stilted manner. She must have been genuinely embarrassed about the dress; when her eyes met mine, her cheeks reddened.
You’re gonna infect me with your embarrassment, so could you stop glancing at me…?
Finally, she came up beside Komachi, then circled around behind her using the younger girl as her shield. “Um…K-Komachi-chan, where did this come from?”
“Eh-heh, that’s a secret! ” Komachi dodged the question with a wink. She must have borrowed it from some sponsor bridal company. My little sister never overlooks anything.
“All righty then, next is Yukino!” Komachi called her name, and the door opened without a sound.
Yukinoshita came in so softly, even her footsteps made no sound.
Everyone held their breath.
The flowing contours of her pure-white dress emphasized the lines of her body. The flower decorations at her chest gave her a strong presence, and the gentle curves splayed out at her feet in lustrous fashion, like the fins of a mermaid. A long lace veil hung from her head like a sprinkling of snow lying on her jet-black hair. It enveloped her gently, not hiding her pale white skin but rather bringing out its glow.
Behind the veil, Yukinoshita closed her eyes and walked slowly forward, her face tilted slightly downward.
“…Why me, too?” I could hear her muttering.
It seemed she was quite angry. Though you couldn’t see her properly, you could tell from her aura. You really could. Suddenly, her veil fluttered up a bit, and I got a peek of her displeased and embarrassed blush.
“Ohhh, she’s mad… You can’t hide the real Yukinoshita, even with a veil…”
“…What?” I could feel her gaze stabbing at me like a cold knife, even through the veil. You know, when a bride wears a white kimono, she has a tsuno-kakushi to cover the horns of any jealous demons she harbors; I wonder if the veil on a wedding dress is supposed to have a similar effect? It didn’t seem to be working on Yukinoshita, though.
Once Yukinoshita was lined up beside Yuigahama, Komachi took in the sight of the two of them with satisfaction. Only one person was left in this bridal costume showdown.
“And now time for the leading lady~, Miss Hiratsukaaa~ ,” Komachi called cheerfully, sounding somewhat more careless than she had with the last two. The way she was saying it, Miss Hiratsuka was less a leading lady and more like a pleading lady.
But regardless of Komachi’s gentle call, the door gently and slowly opened. Instantly, silence fell over the room as everyone forgot to breathe.
A beautiful woman slowly entered the home ec room, closed her eyes gracefully, and took one step at a time so as to avoid treading on her long, flowing veil. When she passed in front of Komachi, even the girl who had called her in was left frozen in shock.
“…Who’s that?” That was all a stunned Komachi managed to say. Oh, I was thinking exactly the same thing, though…
Her straight black hair was tied up in a somewhat high ponytail. Fine lace drifted down from her updo over her open back, but not enough to conceal the beauty of the curve from the back of her neck to her shoulder blades.
The dress itself was orthodox, somewhat classical in style, and it brought out the beauty of every part of her: the pure-white gloves on her shapely, thin, long fingers, the long skirts spreading out from her slim waist, and the simple decorations of the strapless dress emphasizing the fineness of her skin and ample bust.
“M-Miss Hiratsuka. You’re beautiful…,” said Yuigahama.
“Why couldn’t you just be like this normally…?” Yukinoshita echoed.
Even girls could sense it, apparently. Both of them spoke in surprise and wonder.
“How about it, Hikigaya? Not bad, huh?” Miss Hiratsuka spun around to face me, a smug grin rising on her lips. That guileless smile, as if she’d just pulled off some mischievous prank, was the piece missing from the ensemble, and it fit perfectly into place.
I should have given at least one tactful response, but I just stared in a trance. When I realized I hadn’t said anything, I scratched my cheek in an attempt to hide my embarrassment.
“U-uh…well…um…it’s pretty,” I said.
Miss Hiratsuka blinked a bunch. “…O-oh, you think? …Th-thanks,” she muttered, burying her face in the bouquet in her hands. It was cute to see her go red all the way to her ears—and very unlike someone of her age.
Man, seriously—why can’t she get married…?
Yuigahama, Yukinoshita, and Miss Hiratsuka all lined up, and this concluded the bridal costume showdown. Now that the final round was done, Komachi called out “Announcing the results!” with a clap. So we clapped with her in a sparse semblance of applause.
Komachi nodded in satisfaction and then looked all around the home ec room. Her eyes landed on the dishes piled in the sink, the boards and dry erase markers, and the girls in the dresses. “Aw, you guys were all kinda pretty bad! …Guess the winner is Koma—”
“…”
Or so she started to say, when someone shot her an intense look. I felt a fierce will that prevented her from continuing, and I looked over toward the source of the unusually powerful energy to see Miss Hiratsuka glaring real death at her.
But Komachi attempted to keep going anyway. “Th-the winner is…”
“…”
In an attempt to escape the eyes still locked on her, Komachi turned away from Miss Hiratsuka. Sweat was rising on her forehead. “The…winner…is…”
“…!”
The intimidation was so thick that Komachi recoiled, shoulders shrinking away. With a weak, barely audible voice, she continued. “Th-the winner is…Miss Hiratsuka…,” she whimpered brokenly, and Miss Hiratsuka gave a brilliant smile.
Wow, she looks so happy…
“Hmm? R-really? Oh, ah-ha-ha-ha! I can’t believe I won! I guess marriage is on my horizon…,” she crowed with shameless abandon, while Yuigahama forced a ta-ha-ha laugh and Yukinoshita gave a brief, exasperated sigh.
Komachi ran up to me, wailing and sniffling with tears in her eyes. “Th-that was scary… It was so scary…”
“There, there…” I petted Komachi’s head, and as I calmed her, it hit me. Oh yeah, I guess this is why Miss Hiratsuka is still single…
Miss Hiratsuka seemed to be the only one thrilled with this result. Watching her, Yuigahama seemed to be hit with an idea, as she suddenly clapped her hands. “Oh, since we’re all dressed up, let’s take a picture!” she suggested.
“Oh, that’s a good idea! Here, Bro.” Komachi instantly broke into a smile.
I knew it was crocodile tears, but your brother wishes you would try a little harder with those lies, okay…?
She prodded me in the back to get me moving for the picture.
“Don’t push me…”
I was shoved in front of the window where the setting sun was just starting to shine in, and Yukinoshita smoothly stepped aside to avoid me. I think she meant to keep going and slip out of the picture entirely. “I’ll sit this one out,” she said.
But Yuigahama was waiting ahead, ready for her. “Come on, you too, Yukinon.”
“Don’t cling to me…”
Yuigahama just dragged Yukinoshita into the middle, then tugged me close by the sleeve.
“Don’t yank me…”
“Just come on!” Yuigahama smiled cheerfully and pulled on both Yukinoshita’s and my arms even harder.
“I’m ready! We’re taking the picture!” Komachi must have set an automated timer. Once she’d finished setting up for the photo with her cell phone camera, she leaped toward us.
“This sort of thing isn’t so bad now and again, is it?” Miss Hiratsuka said kindly. Standing to the side, she gently put her hand on my shoulder.
Well, sometimes. Oh, I’ll send the photo to Totsuka later.
As the dusk light poured into the home ec room, the shutter clicked.
It was late Friday night, a few days after the brideness showdown. We’d finished dinner, my parents were already asleep, and it was just me and Komachi downstairs.
I was listening to Komachi in the kitchen doing dishes as I sank into the sofa, facing my laptop. I’d completely forgotten that I had to write the piece for our section of the community magazine. Tomorrow was the weekend, so I’d be able to keep working on this until pretty late at night.
I’ve heard that mammals were originally nocturnal. Being a mammal, I also become more active at night. Plus, I really like mammaries.
So they want me to do a write-up, but what even about? I wondered as I tackled the draft that I had still not even written one letter of. There was hardly any time left until the deadline. What had I been doing all this time, you ask? Oh, no, you just don’t get it. It wasn’t coming to me at all. Do you understand this feeling? I guess you wouldn’t. I don’t get it, either. I had to hurry up and write something, anything.
As I was writing and erasing and writing and erasing, my block got worse and worse. Each moment I worried about what I should write or what turn of phrase to use, my hands stopped. I started spending more time in the background playing KanColle than having my hands on the keyboard.
I guess this is as far as I can go today, huh…?
Right around the time I was about to give up, my cell phone rang from its spot on the table a little ways away. The bzz, bzz of the vibration told me it was a call. Oh, but I’m kinda busy right now.
When I ignored it, I heard the squeak of Komachi turning off the faucet, and then she came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands with a towel. On the way, she picked up my phone and tossed it at me. “Bro, your phone.”
“Uh-huh.” I clapped my hands together to catch it.
Well, now that she’d gone to the trouble of getting it for me, I had to answer it. I looked at the display to see the caller was Yuigahama. Though I could basically imagine what she would say, I answered, holding the phone on my shoulder and continuing to work. “Hello?”
“Oh, Hikki, are you done?”
As I predicted, she was pressing me on the draft. I said I’d send it to you once I’m done… “It’s not gonna get done just like that. Are you done with your part?”
“Yeah, I’ve drawn the pictures. Yukinon is gonna put everything together. So then once we have your draft, we’ll be done.” Yukinoshita was doing the editing work, and Yuigahama was drawing up some clip art. The division of labor had been matched to each of our aptitudes.
Hold on. If they’re waiting for my draft, that’s, like, way too much pressure. It’s just gonna make me write slower… I fell apologetically silent for a moment, and I heard a faint voice on the other side.
“Is he done yet?”
That sounded like Yukinoshita. Oh, so Yuigahama’s staying over at Yukinoshita’s place or something? How nice, you’re such good friends…
“Huh? Oh yeah. We were wondering if you’re done yet.” I could still hear Yuigahama’s voice clearly. The phone must have been picking up Yukinoshita from a distance.
“Not yet.”
“He says not yet. Huh? Okay, I’ll ask.” It sounded like Yuigahama was talking with Yukinoshita. There was another little pause before she replied to me. “She’s asking when you’ll be done.”
“I don’t know…and, like, this middleman thing is annoying.” We don’t need to be playing a literal game of telephone here…
After I said that, I could faintly hear a conversation on the other end: “Could I speak with him?” and “Oh, okay.”
“Hello?”
“Hey.”
Yukinoshita came onto the phone. Come to think of it, this might have been the first time I’d spoken with her on the phone.
As my mind wandered, Yukinoshita was getting straight to the point. “When will you be done?” Her tone, chilly as always, made me wince. Even over the phone, it has a weight that won’t let you argue.
“I-it’ll be this week…” I stuttered just a little from the guilt of being the only one behind schedule, and from the other side of the phone, I heard a short sigh.
“Today is Friday. If you’re saying this week, can I take that to mean today? Do you know when the deadline is?”
“M-Monday morning…”
“That means next week. I’ll just leave your space open and move things along. Once you’re done, send what you’ve got to me.”
“Yeah. Oh, but if I’m sending it—”
“Bye.” Without waiting for me to finish, she hung up, leaving me with nothing but the dial tone in my ears.
I glared at the phone and muttered to myself, “…I can’t send it if I don’t even know your e-mail address.”
So no matter how I tried, it seemed the draft could not be submitted until Monday. There was no helping it. It was Yukinoshita’s fault for not listening to me properly… Well, about as much as it was mine for not sticking to the deadline.
Having survived the pressure from the phone call for the time being, I was now at ease and breathed a short sigh. Tossing away my phone, I rotated my shoulders.
I still hadn’t bought myself much time, though. This is a pain, so let’s get it done fast.
I was going to battle my computer once more, when a cup of coffee was gently offered to me. Looking up, I saw Komachi standing there with two cups.
I took one thankfully, and she sat down beside me. Guess she intended to stay awake here with me.
“You don’t have to wait for me or anything,” I said. I didn’t know how long this would take. Maybe all night.
Komachi gave a little shake of her head. “No, I want to read anyway, so I’ll wait.”
Well, tomorrow’s the weekend, so she can stay up a little later. “…Do what you want,” I said, taking a sip of coffee and then starting to hit the keyboard again.
When you’re working alone, it’s easy to just start slacking, but when someone is there right beside you waiting, it forces you to work harder.
Fighting to finish even a little earlier, I desperately strung together some half-assed BS, building up my page count and hours spent. The keys clacked away in the silence of the night. The only other thing I could hear was the occasional drip of water from the sink.
At some point, very, very soft sounds of snoozing joined them.
I finished writing most of the piece, and once I had only a little more to go, I looked beside me to see Komachi just nodding off to sleep. Her comfortable weight gently leaning on my shoulder made me close my eyes, just for an instant.
But only an instant.
As the final line rose in my mind, I typed it slowly, so as not to wake her.
Be it marriage or your future path in life, you can never know what’s coming. And even if you prepare yourself, there will always be new troubles awaiting you.
But everyone has the right to wish for happiness.
You can’t slack in your preparations for the times to come. Conclusion: Women, you should nab those promising househusbands as soon as possible.
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