This Is How Hachiman Hikigaya Spends His Summer Vacation.
"Wh-whoa…"
The whirring electric fan drowned out the tiny gasp, gently shaking its head side to side. Komachi slowly did the same. "Bro, you didn't have to go this far. Not this far…" She softly laid the sun-faded composition on the table. "I know what you're like, but this essay is too much… It's too much, man!"
"Shut up," I replied. "You're the one who wanted to copy my essay. If you don't like it, then don't look at it." I was saddened that Komachi had decried my essay and embarrassed that she had seen my writing from so long ago, and I snatched the paper from her hands.
"Hey, c'mon, I'm sorry. I'll just use the parts that look useful. So let me have it! " Komachi pleaded. "…Well, most of it looks useless, though," she added, for no discernible reason, before she reclaimed the essay and started copying it down into her notebook.
This was about her summer homework. Apparently, in some elementary schools, they hand you a study workbook called the "Summer Vacation Companion," but once you hit middle school, you don't get that anymore. In other words, your summer vacation is devoid of companions. To express that in a cooler way: Friend/Zero. Not many characters in that one. I bet illustrations would be a cinch.
Komachi was working on her book report. My old middle school, the one she currently attends, doesn't assign much summer homework. You get worksheets for English and math, a supplementary kanji workbook for Japanese, an independent research project, and an essay or a book report.
As Komachi moaned and groaned, writing in fits and starts, I watched her with an ice-cold MAX Coffee. There's a unique sweetness to the condensed milk that tightens your throat and percolates up into your head in a way that no café au lait can imitate. I also recommend pouring it over shaved ice.
Even adults need some sweetness in their lives. So when I need coffee, I make it MAX Coffee.
That's my idea for a stealth marketing campaign, since that's been so popular lately. Well, it's not like I'm getting paid for it, so it'll never actually happen.
The table was cluttered with a variety of textbooks. This mess had resulted from a vice characteristic of kids who don't know how to study: just open all the books at once. I pulled out a single sheet of paper from the pile and skimmed it briefly. The sheet had middle school third-year summer homework printed on it, and below the title were the specifics of Komachi's summer assignment. Said details were, well, what I previously explained. A single sentence on that page caught my eye.
"Hey," I said. "It doesn't have to be a book report, so why don't you just write a regular essay?"
"Huh?" Komachi raised her head, half rose from her chair, and peered at the paper in my hands.
"Look, here. It says, 'a book report or an essay on the subject of taxes.'"
Kids who don't like writing about books often don't enjoy reading them in the first place, and kids who hate reading inevitably end up being terrible writers. Komachi fit the model perfectly. She didn't generally read books, and aside from e-mails, she hardly composed anything. A regular essay with no required reading would probably be the easier assignment for a kid like her.
"Yeah, but taxes? I don't understand all that…," said Komachi.
"Hold on. I think I wrote about that in middle school." I began fishing through the cardboard box on the table. It was basically a case of memories. My mom had collected stuff I'd left lying around, like essays, class albums, and independent research projects, and stored them in that box. Komachi wanted to rip off one of my old book reports, so that was why it was out. As I rummaged around, I encountered a paper that appeared to be the right one. "I think this is it."
"Gimme, gimme!" Komachi jumped at me, twining around my arm, and yanked the paper away.
On Taxes
by Hachiman Hikigaya, Class 3-C
The institution of progressive taxation is evil. Those who earn more are taxed more, which is indistinguishable from receiving no reward for your labor. The more you earn, and the more you work, the more taxes are levied on you, and you receive nothing in return. In other words: Get a job and you lose.
If the purpose of progressive taxation is to make everyone equally happy, then I am forced to call the idea foolish. Equality in happiness is, in the first place, impossible. Most of all, the attempt to gauge the contentment of individuals through monetary means alone is shallow and thoughtless. At this point, we should explore introducing a progressive tax measure on normies, where people are taxed based on the number of friends and significant others they have.
Komachi read the first part of the essay and then immediately folded up the paper into a tiny square. "I'll write the book report…," she muttered with a short, subdued sigh.
"O-oh…um, sorry, I guess."
"No, I'm sorry…"
The fan shuddered and whirred with a low mechanical hum. A large brown cicada began chirping as if it had just remembered it should.
"…So, well…," I said, "I'll help you with your independent research project, 'kay?"
"Okay. I'll be here. I don't expect much, though," Komachi replied, returning to her notebook.
Homework and projects are essentially meaningless if the students don't do the work themselves. But I wasn't trying to help Komachi with this just because she was cute. If that were the reason, I'd only help her with the book report.
"Haah… I have to get this done fast. I'm supposed to be studying for entrance exams… I won't make it in time for the practice tests right after the holiday!"
"You're supposed to build up your knowledge over time."
"Hey, I've been building up plenty, okay?"
"Yeah, a pile of unread textbooks…" If this were Tetris, she'd be screwed. And yet she was gearing up to take entrance exams. "Just for my information, do you seriously intend to get into my high school?" I asked.
My sister was unquestionably an idiot. She embodied the sparkling, distilled essence of stupidity. "I'm serious," Komachi replied with utmost sincerity. "If I weren't, I wouldn't consider copying your work."
Not like I care, but that attitude doesn't generally make people want to help you. Well, if that was what she wanted, then all right. The problem was her grades. "You're setting a damn high bar for yourself, though," I told her. "You're hovering around one hundredth place."
"But I wanna go to your school."
"…"
My eyes suddenly watered. My sister, who usually didn't spare me an ounce of respect, had unexpectedly shown me a glimmer of warmth and love. My eyes burned. A single droplet of rain prepared to fall from the heavens.
"When we're going to the same school and I say I'm your sister, I look like a supergood girl by comparison! I started middle school when your reputation was at its worst, so everyone thought I was great! They all treated me like an angel! I'm totally an angel!"
That's a terrible source of motivation. "…Oh. Was it now?" I replied.
What part of that is angel-like? She's a devil. A fiend. Crush devils! Yeah, Komachi is totally a demon. "Well, you know. Just do what you can."
"Yeah, I'll try my best," she replied, once again scribbling away with her mechanical pencil.
She was going for the book report, though, so I had no idea why she was suddenly writing her draft on that grid paper. Read the book first! Wait. Are you one of those people who get all holier-than-thou every time they start a new anime? "It was crap, so I dropped it before the opening credits started," or "It was trash, so I dropped it before the ad break"?
I marched toward the bookshelf in search of Kokoro. If I remembered correctly, I originally bought it because they got a famous manga artist to draw the cover for the special edition. They sold more copies just by giving it a face-lift. Light novels really are 90 percent appearance. Well, not that Souseki Natsume is a light-novel author.
My finger slid across the row of spines. A book called Science Magic: Party Tricks You Can Try Out Right Now! caught my eye. It was fairly old, and it led me to wonder about the worries my dad might have had back when he was a young salaryman at the bottom of the corporate ladder.
No life is more constrained than that of a free man thrust into a society of vertical hierarchies. I bet my dad got that book for yearend parties when his superiors would be like, "Hey, Hikigaya. Say something interesting," or "Show us your hidden talents, come on."
If it were me, I probably wouldn't have been invited in the first place, and even if I were, I wouldn't be able to say much at all, so I probably wouldn't be invited again and thus would have nothing to worry about. And what the hell is with calling year-end parties "forgettingit-all parties" anyway? Don't just get rid of your memories. Also, please don't forget about me, either.
Anyway, the book appeared to have potential for Komachi's independent research project, so I decided to illicitly borrow it. Then I pulled out Kokoro from the shelf immediately below. "Here," I said, handing the volume to Komachi. "For now just read the book before you write anything."
Komachi accepted it with a reluctant groan and then began reading.
After I checked to see that she actually was, I turned my attention to the book of science magic something-or-other I'd just found. As I flipped through it, the pages were full of party tricks. Like sticking a toothpick in a cigarette so that no ash will fall when you light it, or like soaking a bill in alcohol so that if you set it on fire, only the alcohol burns and the bill remains untouched. When I thought about it, I realized that even if I memorized these tricks, I'd never have the opportunity to use them. But the scientific explanations between tricks were oddly fascinating, and before I knew it, I was completely engrossed. It was the same sort of phenomenon that would occur when I cleaned my room.
Suddenly, I came to my senses, and I heard the telltale even breathing of sleep. I looked over at Komachi and found her drifting through the Land of Nod. Studying for exams is tough, huh?
I set the fan to low, took the thin summer blanket from the sofa, and gently pulled it over my sister's shoulders. Keep at it, Komachi.
July was already over, and outside, the great brown cicadas were chirping in grand chorus. Figuring I should take care of the household errands for a while in order to lighten Komachi's workload, I left the house to do some shopping. While I was out, I'd go hunt down some reading material that could prove useful for her independent research project, like Newton, Science, or Mu.
In the heat, a shimmering haze was rising from the asphalt. The afternoon city buzzed with the din of cicada songs and cars whizzing by. Not many pedestrians were around. The people of this residential area were not fond of going out at such a hot time of day.
Damn, I should have waited for the sun to go down a little bit. It's been so long since I last left the house, I didn't even think of that.
My goal for the summer that year was to avoid going outside as much as possible. I mean, the original reason we had such a long vacation was because of the heat. This has always been the consistent and unshakable rationale for vacations. As proof, Hokkaido has an extremely short summer vacation and longer winter vacation; they have cool summers and frigid winters. This corroborates the idea that long vacations were established based on the weather. In other words, the purpose of this break is to protect people from the heat, and if we were preserving the original intent of the holiday, we wouldn't be permitted outside at all. Leaving to hang out and stuff during summer vacation is a legal gray zone, you see?
And I, of course, was an exemplary student who minded his manners and followed the rules, so I obediently spent the summer shutting myself away at home. No, don't call me a hikki for that. Well, I guess you could. I got plenty used to that malicious gossip back in middle school. But for my adorable little sister, I will occasionally venture out of the house. I must do it, for love.
When I arrived at the station, as you would expect, the people were more numerous. I waited for a while at the bus stop, took a bumpy ten-minute ride, and headed to Kaihin-Makuhari. The neighborhood supermarket was fine for groceries, but the new city center was more convenient for getting books.
The Kaihin-Makuhari area boasts considerable crowds during the summertime. There's the Summer Sonic, the pro baseball night games have fireworks, and most of all, it's near the ocean, so marine sports are a major draw. The problem is that none of these things have anything to do with me, and I find the swarms to be purely and fundamentally irritating.
I entered said irritating swarm and faded unobtrusively into the background. You could argue that I already was an unobtrusive element of the background. Still, I felt even more alone in large crowds like this than I did when I was by myself. Essentially, the designation loner does not indicate the density of population around oneself, but rather the spiritual nature of the individual. No matter how close people may be physically, if you do not acknowledge them as similar to yourself, your social thirst will not be quenched.
The cliques out walking with their friends, family, or significant others were moving incredibly slowly. Maybe it was because their attention never left their companions, or maybe it was because they were concentrating on conversation and ignoring their feet, or maybe they just wanted to spend just a moment longer together.
Gah! Don't walk all spread out! You there, that group of three! What's going on? Are you doing flat back three or what? How strong does your defense need to be?
I slipped past the trio as nimbly as a star soccer player. Next was a group of four uniformed high school girls blocking my way in catenaccio formation. But they were all so preoccupied with their hyperanimated laughter and cell phones as they talked, that whole group was unbelievably sluggish. I passed them, too, with no trouble at all.
Shall I tell you what's lacking? Just this! Passion, elegance, diligence, sophistication, insight, dignity!
And the most important thing of all…
Y o u ' r e f a r t o o s l o w !
I talked to myself in my head, though it was all worthless nonsense, and quickly threaded around the people as they cheerfully ambled through the city without a single care in the world. A loner like me, with no friends or girlfriend beside him, could fly alone on the wind and transform the world into an amusement park any time with sheer imagination. Boys who usually walk around alone are always thinking such thoughts. It's pretty fun. As I mentally trained myself for survival on the off chance I ever got embroiled in a war, my feet carried me to the shopping district that had an outlet mall, the various specialty shops of Plena Makuhari, and more.
As I wandered around, I caught sight of a familiar-looking bordered, fluorescent tracksuit. It was the same one I usually wore during gym class. Someone from my school, huh? I'll do my best to keep them out of my line of sight, I thought, but try as I might, my eyeballs just wouldn't listen to me. In the end, my whole body turned toward that tracksuit. To put it simply, yes—it was fate.
Silky, flowing, beautiful hair; white arms and legs reflecting the blinding, brilliant light of the sun… When he adjusted the racket on
his back, he let out a soft sigh that dissipated into the air, summoning a gust of wind.
It was Saika Totsuka. He didn't notice me. Instead, he turned around as if he had just caught sight of something behind him. Oh man, talk about a beauty looking back.
He was like a momentary mirage of the heat waves rising from the asphalt. For just an instant, the throng that had once been such a hindrance had become a flat stage backdrop. It was as if Totsuka and I were the only ones in the world. My face relaxed into a smile at the notion. No matter where we were, I would be sure to find him. I knew it in my soul.
"Totsnerkle." I tried to call his name, but it stuck firmly in my throat. Instead, I wheezed out a sort of weird huffing noise. People out with their families gave me a wide berth and weird looks as they hurried away.
I turned a quiet gaze toward Totsuka. This was because I had noticed someone running up behind him, waving his hands wildly. The boy's tracksuit was identical to Totsuka's, as was the racket case on his back. I guess he was late for their meet-up or something, as he pressed his hands together in a casual gesture of apology, and Totsuka shook his head. Even from afar, I could easily spot his shy smile. The two of them exchanged a few words and then strolled off together into Plena.
My mind was blank for a while, and my legs carried me automatically.
…I see. Totsuka has friends from his club, too. Mm-hmm. It's summer vacation, so of course he has club activities. It'd be normal for him to go hang out after practice. Yeah, it's not surprising he'd smile like that to a tennis buddy.
I wonder when I started thinking I was his only friend. In both elementary school and middle school, the kids who talked to me got along with everyone and had lots of friends… I might have thought we were friends, but they wouldn't, and even if they were my best friends, I wasn't theirs. I was already aware that this often happened to me.
Damn it, I can't believe I'm letting this shake me up. I'm mushier than tofu. I'd probably taste good with soy sauce.
Somehow, I reached the escalator and leaned against the handrail. I could zone out now and let it carry me upward automatically. But right in the middle of the ride, I saw a familiar face coming down in the opposite direction. Only one idiot in my circle of associates would wear a trench coat in the middle of summer. Though associate was an unnecessarily long word, in this case. He was just an ass.
Zaimokuza was engaged in a friendly chat with the two guys with him, who I figured were his so-called arcade buddies. The following is an excerpt from their conversation.
"Arcana chance." (Translation: Do you wanna play Arcana at the next arcade?)
"Take." (Translation: Sounds good.)
"Chance." (Translation: I'll go, too.)
"ACE chance." (Translation: Are you guys okay with the ACE arcade?)
"Sacrifice." (Translation: ACE is too far; we can't.)
"Admiral sleepy." (Translation: I'm tired, and I don't want to.)
"Garbage." (Translation: You guys aren't into that, are you?)
"Total sacrifice." (Translation: It's a total sacrifice.)
"Sacrifice chance." ( I have no idea.)
I let their words wash over me. It sounded like they'd established a language understood by them alone. You can't just converse using individual lexemes. You're relying too much on the inherent ambiguity of Japanese.
I'd feel bad if I bothered them when they were enjoying themselves, and plus, it would be bad for my reputation if people thought we were friends, so I pretended not to notice. But the moment we passed by each other, his sharp eyes discovered me, and for a single moment, our gazes met.
"Oh?" he called out to me.
"…Fwaah." I immediately looked elsewhere and faked a yawn. In so doing, I was indirectly accentuating how I couldn't possibly have seen him. I'm an expert at such avoidance tactics.
Of course, the escalators were not about to stop. Zaimokuza and I continued to accelerate away from each other, and then he faded from view. The escalator carried me up to the third floor, and the current of people swept me into the bookstore. I didn't even have to look around; I knew where my shelf was. To the right of the entrance were manga, and beyond that were light novels. On the other side of the aisle were the medium-sized books, and the shelf behind that was for smaller books. Phew, perfect. So…where are the cookbooks? Usually, I didn't read those, so I had no idea. Well, people only pay attention to what interests them, so that's no surprise.
Of course, asking the staff wasn't an option, so I decided to just browse. But, like, I mean, it wasn't because it would take courage to talk to them or whatever. I was just a nice guy, and I would've felt bad bothering them over something so trivial. It wasn't a big store, so it wouldn't take much time to walk through the whole thing.
"…"
As I sauntered around, I felt eyes on me. Oh, a security guard, huh? You've got it all wrong, sir! This book isn't too naughty, and it's, like, uh… It's for my summer independent research project! I know, it's bad!…Or so I prepared to defend myself, but when I turned around, I locked eyes with someone unexpected.
She wore a cardigan over her shoulders and leggings under her skirt, presumably to prevent the sun from darkening her skin. Her current attire suggested a more active personality than her uniform did, but still, her accessories, like her watch and bag, kept her modest charm intact and brought it all together elegantly.
It was Yukino Yukinoshita, the captain of the Service Club, of which I was a member. If I recall correctly, she does live around here, right? So she was here at the bookstore, too.
"…"
"…"
Neither of us said a thing. We just stared at each other for about two seconds, more than enough time for recognition. Then Yukinoshita deftly returned the book in her hand to the shelf and strode straight out of the store.
Ouch!
She ignored me so hard I was actually impressed. Come on, this has surpassed regular snubbing. This is outright silent contempt. She treated me like the Potsdam Declaration. This is one for the history books. We had been standing less than a meter apart, eyes locked, and she had still refused to acknowledge me. Compared with this, the way I usually get overlooked in class is nothing at all. I mean, they just ignore me because they don't even know I'm there. Wait, that's pretty hurtful, too…
…Well, that was very like her, though. Cracking a vaguely bitter smile, I circled around to the shelf where Yukinoshita had just been standing. At a glance, this section appeared to be the photo books. So she looks at albums of actors or pop idols she likes, too. How surprisingly girly of her, I thought, skimming over the shelf, but every single one featured animals. A particular book caught my attention: a photo album of cats. Just get a cat already.
I picked out a number of volumes from the store, including both books that could be useful for Komachi's independent research project and purchases of my own. My shopping bag felt heavy… I guess I had used summer vacation as an excuse to splurge.
Before the summer holiday starts, I always come up with all these plans (about four months' worth), like how I should read all of Ryotaro Shiba or finish all the games I've dropped, or get a summer job, or go on a trip on my own. But when summer actually starts, I'm like, It's still okay. I still have a month. Naw, just two more weeks is enough. Oh, I think a week is plenty of time to have some fun… Huh? Only three more days? Time just flies by.
I left the building and emerged into the bright light of the sun. The day was ending, but it was still hot, and a sticky, lukewarm sea breeze was blowing by. Though it was the height of summer, the cicadas' chirps sounded far away from this patch of reclaimed land covered in skyscrapers. I began walking toward the bus stop. Sweat was oozing from my hands, so I adjusted my grip on the shopping bag.
But with my plentiful purchases, I would be able to live a comfortable lifestyle of reading for the next little while. The great thing about summer vacation is that you can read a long series all in one go. For instance, I'd recommend the Delfinian War, the Twelve Kingdoms, or the Moribito series.
Summer vacation isn't just partying and fooling around with friends.
I mean, everyone assumes that summer = the beach, pools, BBQ, summer festivals, and fireworks.
Reading alone and indoors where it's cool, getting out of the bath and yelling Ahh! as you eat ice cream alone and naked, catching a glimpse of the Summer Triangle in the sky alone in the middle of the night, lighting a mosquito coil, and dozing off alone to the sound of a wind chime—all wonderful summer memories. You can get by just fine on your own during the summer. Being alone is best. It's hot, y'know?
The world spun on as usual that day, even without me. It felt so real then, the way the world kept going 'round despite Hachiman Hikigaya's absence. That knowledge is a quiet relief to me. Isn't it terrifying, the idea of something irreplaceable? Knowing if that thing disappeared, it could never be undone. You could never fail. You'd never get it back again.
That's why I'm somewhat partial to the relationships I'm building now, the kind that barely even qualify in the first place. If something were to happen, I could cut them off easily, and nobody would get hurt. No contact, no intrusions, that's how I deal with her—
"Oh! Hikki?" A voice pierced right through the bustling noises of midsummer, though it was only a murmur. Maybe the reason I heard it was because she was on my mind. Yui Yuigahama was sliding by me sideways, almost automatically, with a friend of hers. Her hair was in its usual bun, and she was decked out in full summer mode: a black camisole, a loose-knit white cardigan, booty shorts, and gladiator sandals on her feet.
"Hey…," I casually greeted her in return.
Yuigahama grinned brightly at me. "Yeah, long time no see." I guess she was hanging out with the person behind her: Yumiko Miura. She was also in Class 2-F, as well as occupying the top of the Soubu High School caste. Nearly all the boys were terrified of this queen of hellfire. Her glamorous attire consisted of a little black dress with a plunging back and tall high-heeled mules, which were tapping in displeasure. She was glaring at me, and her eyes were painted pitchblack with mascara or eyeliner or eyeshadow or whatever, like Destrade. Is there a game this afternoon?
"Oh, it's Hikio," she said.
You only got the first two syllables right…
You may surmise from how she talked to me that she was attempting to insult me, but such was not the case. The boys and girls at the top of the social pile generally do not hold any animosity toward those of lower status. Forget animosity; they're not even concerned with us in the first place. It's exactly like how people are naturally apathetic toward things that don't interest them.
"Yui. I'm calling up Ebina," Miura said. Without waiting for
Yuigahama's reply, she moved a few steps away into the shade. She's doesn't care about me, so she would never interact with me. Top dogs like her who make no effort to get involved are nice and easy to deal with. When you strictly adhere to a hierarchical system based
on social status, you avoid conflict. Many quarrels originate in class conflict. Such clashes are born out of attempts to force people from different worlds into the same framework. If you segregate the classes entirely, they'll never encounter one another in the first place.
Miura leaned against the wall and began her call. After checking that
Miura was occupied, Yuigahama spoke. "I thought I'd hang out with Yumiko and the girls today… What're you up to, Hikki?"
"…Uh, shopping?" I raised the bag in my hand to show it to her. It was the first time I'd spoken to anyone aside from my own family in a long while, so maybe that was why I could only manage one short phrase.
"Oh, really? You're not gonna hang out with anyone?"
"No."
"Huh? Why not? We're on break."
Why, she asks me. How terrifying that she so naturally concludes that vacation is equivalent to hanging out. Is she, like, one of those kids with that syndrome that gives them anxiety if their planner isn't packed to the gills with activities?
I had all kinds of replies in my head, but none of them reached my mouth. "It's summer break. It's for taking a break." Somehow or other, I managed to squeak out two sentences.
All right, I'm gradually becoming capable of holding a conversation again. If I rush things and try to do three sentences, I'll make some creepy, awkward laugh, so I gotta watch out for that.
"…Are you, like, in a bad mood?" Yuigahama asked rather uneasily.
She was probably trying to be considerate because I was so taciturn.
But her attempt was just a bit misguided. If she really wanted to be understanding, then she would have avoided asking me the question in the first place.
No, I'm fine," I said.
But Yuigahama was still examining me in a seeming attempt to diagnose what was wrong with me.
…Well, I was acting different from normal. I was being guarded with her. Or maybe it would be most accurate to say that, after we'd reset our relationship, I didn't know how to keep my distance from her anymore. In a bid to converse like I used to, I tried to be as casual as possible. "…I get like this when it's hot. You just kinda…slack off? Like how train rails get softer and stretchier in the heat, and, like, so do dogs. Do you know about thermal expansion?"
"What do dogs have to do with this?" she asked. "Oh, mine does like to stretch, though."
"Then dogs do have something to do with this, don't they? What was your dog called again? It was, like…something that made him sound like he'd be a good pinch hitter… Sabu… Saburo?"
"It's Sablé!"
Oh. Sablé, huh? Saburo is that guy, the baseball player. He came back to the Marines, and I had high hopes for him this year. Still, dogs sure do a lot of stretching and flopping, with both their bodies and tongue. And our local mascot Chiiba-kun's nose is too long all year round. Put that thing away; it'll dry out.
"But, like, you were born in summer. You don't like it?" Yuigahama questioned.
I quietly put a hand to my mouth and leaned away a hair, assuming a well-bred and proper tone as I replied, "…How did you know that I was born in summer? Are you stalking me?"
"Whaaat?! Is that an impression of Yukinon?! It actually kinda sounded like her!" Yuigahama burst out laughing, but if Yukinoshita were there, we would be dead.
So my impression was accurate, huh? Clearly, I was reaping the rewards of regular practice in front of the mirror before every bath. What am I doing with my life? "But, like, seriously, how do you know? You're scaring me," I said.
"Oh, you were bragging about it to everyone when we went to karaoke before, weren't you?"
"D-don't be a jerk! I wasn't bragging about it! Certainly wasn't trying to indirectly make sure Totsuka knew!"
"So you were after Sai-chan?!" Yuigahama yelped, astonished.
Hey, hey, who else would I be trying to point it out to? "Well, first of all, when you're born in summer, you're just a newborn, so they pamper you. They raise you indoors with the air-conditioning turned up so the heat doesn't get to you. That means you never build up a resistance."
"Ohhh. I get it." Yuigahama mm-hmmed her understanding. For some reason, that convinced her. It was worrying how she just believed my random nonsense. But she continued, "Oh, so, like, it's almost your birthday, so let's have a party."
"It's fine. I don't need one. Forget it."
"You just instantly said no?! And three times over, too!"
"I mean, listen… It's different for girls. When you're a guy, having a birthday party when you're already in high school is embarrassing. No way." Most important, I had no idea how to behave during these events. Should I smile? In middle school, it had occurred to me that someone might throw me a surprise party, so I had practiced my exaggerated shock, but I stopped once I realized it was never gonna happen.
"Okay, so if you don't want a party, then why don't we all go hang out somewhere?" she suggested.
"Who's 'we'?" If I didn't ask this question, bad things would happen. In particular, right around the time I first started school, I had encountered problems. Like, someone I talked with fairly often would invite me to go hang out, but when I took them up on that invitation, it would be almost entirely people I didn't know. Plus, when it's the first social event of the school year, if you don't talk very much, you get immediately shunted down the road to lonerdom. When it comes from other kids at school, the question Why don't we all hang out? is actually a trial by fire. The invitation process itself is the first screening, and then you're all divided into ranks based on how you deal with it when you actually go hang out.
"Yukinon and Komachi and Sai-chan, I guess?" mused Yuigahama.
Oh dear. So good old Zaimokuza got screened out, huh? Well, it's the obvious choice. I'd cut him off first thing, too.
When I didn't reply, she tried again. "I-if you're against that idea…ththen the two of us could…" She touched her pointer fingers together, gazing up at me through her lashes.
At the sight of that plea, my heartbeat accelerated. Instantly, I ripped my eyes away from her and jerked my head up. "I'm not super against it, not at all. In fact, I love the idea, especially the Totsuka part!"
"Just how in love with Sai-chan are you?!"
"I-I'm not in love with him! I just like him a little!"
"That basically means the same thing!" Yuigahama cried, at wit's end.
Phew… The moment I let my guard down, Yuigahama has me right where she wants me. It's not easy, making a conscious effort to keep my distance so she doesn't get the wrong idea. Hanging out with Totsuka somewhere was a good plan, though. I had caught a glimpse of him that day, but I had failed to call out to him. Agh! I'm such a spineless coward! I'm a maggot! Pond scum! "So what're you doing?" I asked.
Yuigahama answered with enthusiasm. "Going to the fireworks! Come see them with us!"
"I can see the marine fireworks from my house. I don't want to bother going out."
"Wow, that logic just revolves around you!" Yuigahama pointed her finger straight at me, groaned, and deliberated for a minute. "Then a haunted house or something!"
"Ghosts are terrifying. No way."
"That's your reason?!"
Hey, Chiba's spiritual hotspots are no laughing matter. I saw some of that stuff online in the middle of the night this one time, and I couldn't even begin to fall asleep. There's Ojaga Pond, and, like, the statue of Kannon at Tokyo Bay, and Yahashira Cemetery. Around here, there's a former execution site in front of a certain university, and that old abandoned telecommunication place. Even if I lucked out when Totsuka leaped on me in fear, there was a high chance I'd be crapping myself, too.
Despite my refusal, Yuigahama soldiered on undeterred. "Th-then, so, so, the beach…or, like, a pool?"
"…Uh, well, those are, like… I just can't. It'd be too embarrassing."
"Yeah…I'd be sorta…embarrassed, too…" Yuigahama squirmed and bashfully lowered her eyes.
Wait, if it's so excruciating, then don't suggest it. You're making this awkward for me, too. "Don't you have any other ideas?"
"I know! We can go camping!"
"There's bugs, so no way in hell. Anything but bugs, seriously. I'm sorry."
"You're so selfish! And useless! Whatever! You're a stupid stupidhead!" Yuigahama mustered her full meager vocabulary to tell me off. She whirled around in an angry huff and started marching away.
"…But, like," I began, "we don't have to do anything summery. Just something normal would be fine."
Yuigahama's feet came to an abrupt halt. When she turned around, there was no hint of anger on her face, only a faint smile. "Okay… You're right. All right, I'll contact you later!" "Yeah, whatever, sometime," I said.
Yuigahama spun around on her heel again and skipped up to Miura. The grumpy queen bee made the picture of boredom, but when Yuigahama put both her hands together and apologized fiercely, her mood seemed to improve somewhat. As Miura teasingly poked Yuigahama in the head, the two of them began strolling away.
The large columns of summer clouds stretching across the sky were dyed deep red. A crisp breeze picked up. It was the perfect way to alleviate the heat in my head. As the day cooled into evening, I decided to return home.
In the twilight, indigo bled into crimson, and it would take some time and effort to define the boundary.
2
No Matter What You Do, You Can't Escape Shizuka Hiratsuka.
The cicadas were so loud in the mornings.
Someone had left the TV on, and the news was heralding the biggest heat wave of the summer or whatever. Don't you guys say that every day? It's like those outstandingly talented people who you only encounter once a decade and yet somehow appear every year.
Grumpy from the heat, I switched off the TV, sank into the sofa, and turned on my handheld console. That day was another one frittered away lying around inside. Komachi was studying in her room, so I was alone in the living room. It had been less than two weeks since the start of summer vacation. I lived out each day the same way I did every summer. I'd sleep until noon, watch Pet Encyclopedia, watch Summer Vacation Kids' Anime Festa, go out to the bookstore when the urge struck me, and in the evening I'd read or play games and study. I liked this lifestyle.
Summer vacation. For a loner, this time is our sanctuary. No, not an angel sanctuary. I can laze around for the whole day without causing trouble for anyone. Well, now that I think about it, I never get involved with people in the first place, so I don't normally create inconveniences anyway. I'm such a good boy.
Anyway, during summer vacation, nobody can tie me down. Yes, I am free. In English, the word can also mean "freedom." Like the Gundam. I am…we are Gundam. I don't have to do anything. It's great. It means that the world I live in is content. I wonder why it felt so nasty when I was at a part-time job and they were like, Agh, just don't do anything. That stung. It hurt so much, I quit.
Now that I think of it, it's been a long time since I last had a job. Before I joined the Service Club, I'd worked part-time here and there, but…most of the time at those places, all the interpersonal relationships were already in place when I showed up, so I couldn't squeeze in, and then I ended up quitting within about three months. After last time, I was too embarrassed to go return the uniform, so I mailed it to them, cash on delivery. Anyway, come to think of it, I realized the Service Club was robbing me of considerable time. But they held no power over my summer vacation! Fwa-ha-ha-ha!
As I loudly cackled to myself, my phone chirped. Another delivery notice from Amazon? Has my package been shipped from the warehouse in Ichikawa city, Chiba prefecture? I wondered, picking up the phone from where I'd left it on the table. When I checked the screen, I had one e-mail. The sender was Miss Hiratsuka.
I turned off the screen.
Phew, that's that… Now all I had to do was send her a late-night reply to the tune of Sorryyyy, my battery ran out or I think I was out of range! She would be unable to respond. Source: me. When I was in middle school, every time I screwed up my courage and e-mailed a girl, about 40 percent of the time she'd answer with something similar. By the way, about 30 percent just didn't reply at all, and the remaining 30 percent were from some foreigner named Mailer Daemon. Nothing good comes of making an effort.
With a sense of accomplishment, I returned to the sofa and picked up the handheld that I'd put into sleep mode. It's nice; just about all handhelds can sleep these days, it seems. They allow you to make the best use of your time. The problem is that if you get one that's too newfangled, it'll have all these incomprehensible functions, and that's not even getting into the connectivity. And when they start talking about "playing with the rear touch panel," it doesn't even make sense. It just sounds dirty.
My phone rang again.
What, which burgers do they have a special deal on now? I thought, going to get my phone. But this time, the ring persisted for an oddly lengthy interval. Apparently, I was receiving a phone call. Considering when the e-mail arrived, it was probably Miss Hiratsuka. I doubt many people would be horribly pleased to get a call from their teacher. Of course, I wasn't, either. Plus, now that I had ignored her once, she could chew me out for that if I picked up now. I chose to disregard the call as well. Eventually, she gave up, as the ringing stopped short. But my relief was only momentary, and this time, I started getting a bunch of rapid-fire e-mails.
What the hell? I'm scared. Is she like this with her boyfriends, too? There were so many. I was filled with trepidation as I opened my phone. I read the e-mail at the top of the folder—that is to say, the newest one.
Sender: Shizuka Hiratsuka
Subject: This is Shizuka Hiratsuka. Once you've checked your mail, please reply.
Body: Hikigaya, I have an urgent message for you regarding Service Club activities during summer vacation. Please return my messages. Are you still sleeping? (haha) I've been texting and calling you over and over. You've actually read them, haven't you?
Hey, you've read them, right? Answer your phone
That's scary! You're scary! I'm slightly traumatized here! I felt like I'd just gotten a glimpse of one of the reasons Miss Hiratsuka couldn't get married. Geez, woman, just how obsessed with me are you? You're scary. Also terrifying.
When I reviewed the e-mails, all of them had the same content. In summary, they were instructing me to volunteer long-term during the holiday. This was no joke. It was time to feign total ignorance. With no hesitation, I switched off my cell phone. At times like these, it's convenient to be a loner. You won't get calls from anyone else anyway!
Right about when I had finally relaxed again, Komachi came down from her room on the second floor. By all appearances, she had spent the day in the clothes she'd slept in. All she was wearing besides her underwear was my hand-me-down T-shirt.
"Taking a break?" I asked.
"Yeah," she replied. "I've basically done everything but the essay and the independent research project."
"Nice work. Do you want a drink? There's coffee, barley tea, MAX Coffee…"
"Coffee and MAX Coffee are two different things…? I'll go with barley tea."
MAX Coffee does not count as coffee. That's common sense. MAX Coffee is categorized as condensed milk. The category error of the coffee world—that's MAX Coffee. By the way, the category error of the light-novel world is Gagaga Bunko. "Here," I said.
"Yoink." Komachi accepted the tea in both hands and gulped it down eagerly. With a satisfied Ahh, she set the cup on the table. "Now then, Bro." She suddenly adopted a grave expression. "I studied really hard."
"Yeah, that's true. You're not done with everything, though." She still had the book report and the independent research project. And with entrance exams, the end was that it was never-ending. It was Golden Experience Requiem. Still, she had finished most of her homework over the past few days, so you have to give her credit for applying herself.
"I did so much work, I think I deserve to treat myself," she said.
"Are you some big-city office lady?" Seriously, what is it about the phrase treat yourself that evokes the image of an unmarried woman? For an instant, Miss Hiratsuka's face flashed before my eyes.
"Anyway, I need a treat," said Komachi. "So you have to go out with me to Chiba."
"Your reasoning is something else. That leap of logic could win you the Japan International Birdman Rally," I replied.
Komachi pouted and huffed. Apparently, no wasn't an option.
"Well, I get what you're saying," I said. "You want something in particular? I can't buy you anything too expensive, though. I only have four hundred yen in my wallet."
"You can't even get something cheap with that… I don't really need anything, though. I just want to go out with you. Oh, that just scored some serious Komachi points!"
"You're so obnoxious…" She probably wasn't trying to pester me into purchasing anything, though, so she basically just wanted to go out and have some fun. I felt like she should call her friends for that, but, well, I didn't want her going to Chiba Station with her girlfriends and getting hit on by some guy. In fact, there's a place not far from the amusement district near Chiba Station that's called Pick-up Road. I've avoided it ever since that one time I was going by and someone mugged me out of my allowance, though.
Also, if she got mixed up with boys, I'd have to stain my hands with blood. Going along with Komachi now would be best. "I'm fine with going out, but get changed," I said. "If you go out dressed like that, I'll have to shine a laser pointer in the eyes of every boy on the street. Oh, that just scored some serious Hachiman points, you know?"
"Uh, that sister complex of yours is creepy, frankly. Also, that's a terrible thing to do." My little sister retreated a couple of steps.
…Is that so? I should have had about eighty thousand points, though. 'Cause I'm Hachiman. But I quietly kept my smug reply to myself. Komachi's grading system was strict.
Guys in Chiba with younger sisters have a high chance of developing a sister complex. And mine is actually this cute, so there's nothing I can do about it. Some guys are always like, My little sister isn't cute at all, but that's because she's your little sister. That's why she's not endearing to you. "I don't know what we'd do at Chiba," I said, "but if you want me to go with you, I will."
"Whoo! Thanks. Okay, I'm gonna go get ready. You change into something easy to move around in."
Something easy to move around in…which means… Are we going bowling? Well, at least it's not boring. I'm not much for punching holes in stuff.
When you tell me to dress for unhindered movement, going naked seems like the best option to me, I dunno… When we did the fiftymeter dash in elementary school, some guys thought that way. They'd say I'm getting serious now! and do it in their bare feet. Yeah, that was me.
I grabbed a random T-shirt and a button-down shirt, along with a pair of jeans. As I was putting on my socks, Komachi was dashing this way and that and ransacking the house. What was she doing, scurrying around like that? She was like a little squirrel. It was driving up her cuteness gauge, though. I zoned out (my special skill) and waited for her, and Komachi finished changing. She had undressed and redressed in front of me, as usual, but this process was so mundane, I don't think it even registered for me.
"There we go!" At last, she looked at herself in the mirror and posed.
Yeah, yeah, you're cute, you're cute. Could you hurry it up?
Komachi donned a newsboy cap and turned to me. "Okay, let's go!" she declared, holding her provisions in both arms. There were two bags, packed full of stuff and looking fairly heavy. I wordlessly reached out a hand, and Komachi passed me one, rather happily. Don't get all gleeful over a little thing like this. Are you one of those easy-to-please heroines who're all the rage these days?
Before we left, I checked that the door was properly locked, and then we set off for the station.
"So, like, what's with these bags?" I asked Komachi. "Are you trying to make me your mule? I'm not carrying anything illegal for you." I pointed to the bag in my hands as we walked.
Komachi quietly put a finger to her lips. "That's a secret! " She shot a wink at me while she was at it.
"You're so obnoxious…"
"Heh. Secrets are what make a woman a woman, Bro."
"Are you Shelley or what? You learned that from Conan, didn't you…?"
One of the unique characteristics of guys with younger sisters is that we have this strong tendency to share manga communally, especially the ones bought back in elementary school. This tendency becomes especially noticeable when it's a series popular with both boys and girls. So we'll often get each other's references like that… Oh, it wasn't Shelley—it was Vermouth, wasn't it?
…Anyway, when I'm reading manga, Komachi will come to peek over my shoulder, and our mom will see it and be like, Let Komachi see, too. For a while, whenever I was listening to music with my earbuds in, Mom would tell me to share. How stupid. Are we a lovey-dovey couple? Or high school boys on the train home? Now there's something that'd give Ebina a nosebleed…
As I herded Komachi toward the sidewalk side and she fiddled with her phone, I casually surveyed the quiet city. The sun was beaming down brilliantly over the road to the station. The trees on the boulevard took the opportunity to rustle and stretch out their branches, and a stray cat lay on its side, fast asleep in the shade. The smell of a mosquito coil and the sounds of an afternoon TV show filtered out from someone's yard.
As we walked side by side, a group of elementary schoolers on mountain bikes passed by in a brief burst of animated chatter. Komachi and I paused, watching them absently, and then started again at a pace a little slower than I was used to. I matched my speed to Komachi's, and we wound our way to the station. When we arrived, I stepped toward the ticket gates, but my sister tugged my sleeve. "Bro, this way, this way."
"Huh? But if we're going to Chiba, the train's…," I began, turning around.
Komachi was going "Over there, over there!" as she pointed and tugged me along all the way to the bus loop, where we encountered a mysterious parked minivan with a black figure in front of the driver's-side door. From the curvy silhouette, I could easily tell that it belonged to a woman. She was sporting a black T-shirt with rolled-up sleeves, jean shorts, and hiking-boot-esque footwear. Her black hair was gathered up in a ponytail under a khaki baseball cap, and her sunglasses hid her eyes from view. When she turned to me, though, her mouth twisted sardonically.
I have a bad feeling about this.
"Now then…let's hear why you didn't answer your phone, Hachiman Hikigaya." She removed her sunglasses with a click and faced me with sharp, flashing eyes. Needless to say, it was Miss Hiratsuka. Whoa, someone's mad…
"Oh…my cell reception is unstable. I think there's a connection between the number of antennas they have and the number of hairs on their CEO's head. Sorta like Kitaro's antenna. Seriously. I always suspected there was something weak and flabby about a company with a name like that. What the hell is with calling themselves soft?! Get creative with your cell phone reception before you start creative publishing! I do like reading those books, though!"
"Bro, you're gonna die… You're gonna get punished in the name of justice…" Komachi, worried for my safety, stepped forward to stop me. But it would be fine. He was actually a pretty good guy. …I'll be okay, right? Also, please do something about my reception.
"Hmph, whatever. I didn't expect a decent excuse from you in the first place," Miss Hiratsuka said.
Then please don't ask…, I was about to say, but my teacher didn't give me the chance.
"Well, as long as you aren't involved in any accidents or other incidents, that's enough," she continued, smiling. "That's happened before, so I was a little worried."
"…Miss Hiratsuka." She was probably referring to the time I got hit by a car. Of course a teacher would hear about an accident involving a student of hers. I guess…she's serious about her job. She's a good person.
"Good thing I pulled some strings and got hold of your sister."
"…You're scaring me." That storm of e-mails, the way you check up on my safety… You're freaking me out! That's basically stalker behavior! I now know how terrifying it is to be loved…and I don't need love, summer.
"So, like, did you want something? I'm going to Chiba with my sister right now," I said.
Miss Hiratsuka blinked a few times in surprise. "Huh. So you haven't read my e-mails yet. We're going to Chiba, too, as part of a Service Club activity."
"What?" Did she send me a message about that? The first one I'd read had given me major creepy-girlfriend vibes, so I'd turned off my phone in terror. Figuring I should take another look, I pulled it out.
That was when I heard a voice behind me. "Hikki, you're late." When I turned around, I saw Yuigahama with a very full plastic bag from a convenience store in her hand. She wore a hot-pink sun visor with the kind of T-shirt and short shorts that make you want to go Whoa, not enough cloth there. It was like she was living for summer. These days, even elementary schoolers don't wear short sleeves with shorts like that.
Yukinoshita was standing behind Yuigahama, as if hiding in her shadow. Unusually for her, she was in jeans, paired with a shirt that had a stand-up collar. Though she wasn't showing much skin, she still looked breezy and cool.
"Huh? Why're you guys here?" I asked.
"What do you mean? This is for the Service Club. Aren't you here because Komachi told you about it?" Yuigahama said nonchalantly.
Agh, I'm starting to see what's going on here. Miss Hiratsuka tried to invite me to this club thing, but I totally stonewalled her, so she contacted Yuigahama, who in turn got in touch with Komachi. Damn it! This isn't fair! I can't believe they would take advantage of my brotherly love, knowing full well I'd be excited to go out if Komachi was the one asking! And I fell for it and left the house!
The cruelest one was Komachi, who had lured me here with lies by omission. The more you hate her, the cuter she gets. She was so cute now, I could hardly stand it.
When she saw the two older girls, she gave them a jubilant greeting. "Yui! Yahallo!"
"Yahallo, Komachi!"
Is that greeting in now? It sounds so dumb. Stop.
"Yukino, too! Yahallo!"
"Hey…hello, Komachi." Yukinoshita was almost tricked into saying it, but she came to her senses in the nick of time. She instantly blushed.
Komachi squeezed Yuigahama's hand. "I'm so glad you invited me!"
"Thank Yukinon," replied Yuigahama. "She's the one who called me.
She told me the teacher had asked me to call you." Oh-ho. So in
other words, the order went Miss Hiratsuka Yukinoshita Yuigahama Komachi me, huh?
Komachi responded by glomping Yukinoshita. "Really? Thank you so much! I love you, Yukino!"
Yukinoshita faltered for a moment in the face of Komachi's straightforward declaration. She averted her gaze slightly and cleared her throat with a cough. "…Oh, um…I just thought we would need someone to look after that."
Yes, hello. I'm "that."
"…Nothing I did was worthy of praise," she continued. "It was just because of how things normally are with you two."
Yuigahama and Komachi burst into affectionate grins as Yukinoshita blushed.
This was not good. At this rate, Yukinoshita would soon have Komachi in her clutches. It was already too late for Yuigahama, but I wanted Komachi to stay on the straight and narrow. I had to set her down the right path! "Komachi, you don't have to thank Yukinoshita. In fact, you should be thanking me instead for being such a loser. Otherwise, she never would have needed your intervention!" Heh, that was a good one. Now Komachi would most certainly show her brother gratitude, respect, and love.
"…"
"…"
"…"
…Or so I thought, but instead we all sank into immediate silence. All I could hear was the express train zooming away, a painful sound to my ears. Everyone was at a loss for words.
Yukinoshita chuckled. It had been a long time since I last saw her smile, or so it seemed. "It really was the right choice to invite you, Komachi. I'm glad you're here to take care of that thing."
"I really wish someone would take over for me, though." My own sister was about to forsake me.
In an effort to hide the tears threatening to fall, I raised my head toward the blazing sun. It was getting a little toasty. "It's hot, so can we finish this up quick?"
"Don't be so impatient. The last person is almost here."
Someone was indeed coming down the station stairs toward us. When I saw that figure glancing left and right, I instantly realized who it was. Before I even processed what I was doing, I'd raised my hand.
When he saw me wave, he dashed up to us. "Hachiman!" Panting, Totsuka gave me a bright and cheerful smile more radiant than the midsummer sun. But my chest squeezed at the thought that I wasn't the only recipient of such smiles. Something caught in the back of my throat, and that something gradually transformed into pain. The wounds in my soul festered and oozed.
But Totsuka's lovable expression was enough to heal it all in two sections. In English, you would say his smile could cure me with pretty. Totsuka's so cute. Abbreviated as: Totsucute.
Komachi, who had been standing beside me, hopped up to greet Totsuka. "Yahallo, Totsuka!" "Yeah, Yahallo!" he replied.
What the heck. That's so cute. Let's make that greeting a thing. "They invited you, too, Totsuka?" I asked.
"Yes, Miss Hiratsuka said she didn't have enough people. But…is it okay for me to join you?"
"Of course it is!" I exclaimed. But, like, we were just going to Chiba Station. There was no cause for uncertainty.
If Miss Hiratsuka had invited Totsuka, though, I guess she kinda understood. Good job. Now everyone was here… Everyone?
I scanned our group. "Where's Zaimokuza?"
"…Who?" Yukinoshita tilted her head, perplexed.
Miss Hiratsuka hmmed, apparently only just remembering, and explained. "I reached out to him, but he said something about a fierce battle or Comiket or deadlines or something and refused."
Seriously, Zaimokuza? I was jealous of him for getting the option of refusing. He must be having a blast right now with his arcade buddies… But why's the deadline last on his list? What about his ambitions to be a writer?
"Well then, let's get going," declared Miss Hiratsuka.
With that, we went to board the minivan. Upon opening the door, I saw the vehicle was a seven-seater. There was the driver's seat, the front passenger seat, room for three in the back, and another two in the middle.
"Yukinon, let's have some snacks, come on!" Yuigahama chirped.
"Those aren't for eating once we're there?" Yukinoshita questioned. The pair was already planning to sit together.
So that means…oh-ho. In other words, sandwiched between Totsuka and Komachi is the sword of promised victory. Now I can win!
But when I exultantly started climbing into the back, someone yanked at my collar. "You're sitting shotgun," ordered Miss Hiratsuka.
"Huh? Hey, why?!" I protested as she dragged me along.
She hid her bright-red face with a hand. "D-don't get the wrong idea, okay?! I-it's not because I want to sit by you!"
Oh-ho, how tsundere of her. If you could ignore her age, it'd be cute.
"It's because the passenger in that seat is most likely to die!" she continued.
"You suck!" I struggled, trying to escape.
But she let a smile slip. "…I'm joking. It's wise to keep me from getting bored while I drive, don't you think? I enjoy talking with you, you know."
"Oh, really…?" Faced with such a tranquil and soft expression, I couldn't defy her any longer. I sat calmly in the front seat, and Miss Hiratsuka nodded in satisfaction.
The teacher checked that everyone was in the van, and she and I fastened our seat belts. She turned the key in the ignition and pressed the gas, and we sped away from my familiar home station and down the road. If we were going to Chiba Station, it would probably be fastest to go from here out onto National Road 14. But for reasons unknown, Miss Hiratsuka was driving toward the interchange. The arrow on the navigation system was pointing toward the highway.
"Um, aren't we going to Chiba…?" I asked.
Miss Hiratsuka grinned. "Let me ask you something instead. How long have you been under the delusion…that we were headed to Chiba Station?"
"Uh, I'm not under any delusions or anything. You said we were going to Chiba, and usually, that means Chiba Station…"
"You thought our destination was Chiba Station? Too bad! It's Chiba Village!"
"Why are you so excited about this…?"
This often happens with those who lack social finesse. When they encounter a person for the first time in a long while, they sometimes get overenthusiastic. The next day, they reflect on their behavior and sink into self-loathing. I guess having some distance is the key. I hope Miss Hiratsuka isn't depressed tomorrow, though.
But still, Chiba Village… Chiba Village… That sounds familiar… I wonder why.