Editing Denpa Onna to Seishun Otoko:Volume8 Chapter4

<noinclude>
{| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;"
|-
| Back to [[Denpa Onna to Seishun Otoko:Volume8_Chapter3-C|Chapter 3-C]]
| Return to [[Denpa Onna to Seishun Otoko|Main Page]]
| Forward to [[Denpa Onna to Seishun Otoko:Volume8_Curtain_Call|Curtain Call]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>
==Chapter 4 – Fighting For The Light==
Was there any meaning in dreams that remained unfulfilled?

Was it foolish to hold onto dreams that could never come true?

Lately, I found myself wishing I knew the proper amount of dreaming one should do in order to live a better reality.



Encountering Smakin = me taking flight. Now that such an equation was gradually becoming established, how was I getting on? I asked this to my imaginary audience while pushing hard on my bicycle pedals. My foot slipped off midway, leaving the pedal to spin aimlessly with a clicking sound. I leant my weight to the right and turned.

“I really wish Smakin attacks would be a one-time thing.”

“If it becomes popular, they’ll turn it into a series, and then we’ll have a third and fourth Futonese…”

“That is exactly why I’m heading off to get this cancelled right now.”

I pedalled my bicycle furiously toward the sea. Back to the very place where it had all begun. To be precise, this time, I only intended to contend with that long slope rather than the ocean itself. For that purpose, I rode.

It was far more comfortable than my ride in April, as I spun the wheels and pedals all at once.

“I’m feeling incredibly jittery, despite how out of character it is for me.”

“That doesn’t convey anything at all, because you’re a Smakin.”

“I’ve been wondering for a while, but what exactly is a Smakin?”

“Look in a mirror.”

The surface of the water would have worked, but the sea I was heading toward was so murky that it likely wouldn’t reflect anything.

I sped along as if taking a shortcut, traversing a journey that had previously taken over two hours one way on a rusted bicycle. If I kept riding at this speed, I found myself momentarily dreaming that I might actually take flight one day. Perhaps if such illusions continued to pile up, a Smakin would be born.

“I wonder if we will truly be able to fly, using your power and mine.”

“Who knows. I failed spectacularly last time, after all.”

“That was to be expected. Power cannot be generated from two Earthlings.”

Despite having watched ''E.T.'' for the very first time today, she seemed completely captivated by it. Onii-san worried about her future, fearing she might be easily deceived by bad people. Furthermore, Erio was far too trusting, which was suspicious in itself.

“Like this, and like that… twisting the power forward… Fumomo…”

“What exactly are you contemplating? Besides, I don’t think you need to go through the trouble of writing down such internal conflicts on paper.”

It was a mistake to expect any kind of meaningful reaction from me. Any form of advice was simply beyond my reach.

“…………”

I wondered with what kind of feelings Erio and Tamura-san saw me off. I parted ways with them at the Tamura store, promising that I wouldn’t do anything dangerous. Erio, in particular, seemed worried about my sea diving since I had started saying things similar to what I had said before. I told her not to worry, but I wondered if she had actually believed me.

Before long, as the sun approached its midday peak.

I applied the brakes and came to a halt at the top of that hill where I had arrived.

I felt a sense of having returned to a place I shouldn’t have.

It was mixed with a feeling of greeting the place, as if to say, “I’m back again.”

Both the sea and the guardrail were still too far away to be seen. The dense trees had changed colour with the autumn scenery, and fallen leaves danced, fluttering before my eyes. The flow of traffic was just as it had been back then, as if no divine intervention had altered its course. Almost unconsciously, my finger moved and rang the bicycle bell. It felt as though the anxieties within my heart were escaping through the gaps in the bell’s chime.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment, mofumofu.”

“Huuh?”

“With this, it looks like I’ll finally be able to return to my family.”

“…That’s good, then.”

I hoped he could return home without being taken away. If that day ever came, I thought I could at least see him off.

I took a deep breath to ease my nerves. I rolled my right shoulder twice to steady my breathing. That sensation of gradually accelerating resurfaced in my mind, and my memory raced down the slope ahead of my actual movement. A shiver crawled up my spine, and I instinctively stroked my back as if to brush it away. After patting my back three times, I gripped the handlebars.

From here on, I was going to descend this slope with everything I had.

Of course, I had no intention of actually flying.

If I were to plunge into the sea, I might truly die this time, and more importantly, I couldn’t afford to ruin my new bicycle. So, I wouldn’t fly, but I would ride. I would accelerate in a controlled manner and then brake halfway through.

“Hey, Little Smakin, what is this?”

I held up my index finger before Little Smakin’s eyes. With a “mofufu”, Little Smakin strained with effort.

“It was a trick question. That was mimicking a pistol. Bang!”

“…It seems you saw right through me.”

I didn’t know the underlying principle, but as long as the path ahead was being verified, it was fine. There was a purpose to this run.

I would run, accelerate, and teach Little Smakin the meaning of fear just before the moment of jumping. I thought that if I could stoke her anxiety regarding the fall, it might serve as a harsh remedy to wake her up to the reality of taking flight. That was my train of thought.

To prove that she was not an alien, I once again began to descend the slope, knowing full well that I could not fly.

This time, I would use a mere handful of wisdom and self-preservation to keep my recklessness in check.

“Alright, here we go.”

I leaned forward and placed my right foot on the pedal. I was tormented by an exhilaration akin to being on the verge of the start of a race, coupled with a shrinking sensation in my very organs. The sweat and the wind seemed to rush past me together in a great torrent.

Mofufu.

It felt as though she was replying, “Go ahead whenever you’re ready.”

Good.

I kicked off the ground, directing the front wheel toward the slope.

And so, I began to ride.

At first, I went slowly, not even pressing down on the pedals, simply surrendering myself to the momentum of the descent. I knew nothing at all about horse racing, but it felt just like that sensation when the gates swing open before the start. The one-way path had been opened to me.

An image descended upon me, as if a transparent pillar were piercing through my spine.

A small wall formed between my upper and lower body as both halves attempted to act independently. I gripped the handlebars tightly to brake the bicycle, while simultaneously, my legs and hips pressed down on the pedals, beginning an endless acceleration. The downhill slope showed an intent to aid both, tempting me onwards.

The scenery blurred. The surrounding trees became fragmented, and I plunged all at once into an unstable world. The sound of the tyres scraping against the ground stood out, like the buzzing of giant flies near my ears, paralysing my other senses.

Even Little Smakin, who had been staying quiet as if hiding within a basket, began to lean forward with the acceleration.

Despite Smakin obstructing my view, I lifted my hips off the saddle, aiming for even greater speed.

It was exhilarating.

No matter how hard I struggled or fought during my usual routine, I could never achieve being swallowed up by such high speed.

My face contorted as if stained by madness, and the sweat gathered at my hairline sprayed outward in an instant.

The pedals continued to rotate at a terrifying speed, transferring every ounce of that energy into the wheels. The wheels let out a roar alongside the ground, obeying my demands and the rhythm of the pedals to the very end.

Floating gently, only my consciousness seemed to drift upward. I viewed myself, the bicycle, and Little Smakin from a slight distance, as if admiring a scene. I felt intoxicated by this bird’s-eye view of my own being. Finding pleasure in pushing toward the very limits of speed, my legs refused to stop pedalling. It felt as though the more I rode, the faster I would become.

Faster than anyone else.

It was the job of my upper body to keep the bicycle from veering off course. I suppressed the front wheel, which felt as though it might lift off the ground, and bowed my head to gravity, staying true to the slope.

“It’s coming, it’s coming! We’re almost there!”

Little Smakin held up a new message, and my eyes followed it unconsciously.

In that moment, my consciousness, which had been immersed in ecstasy, returned to me.

I blinked repeatedly, having forgotten to do so, and my sense of touch resurfaced.

At the same time, the terror coursing through my entire body slammed violently against my insides.

I couldn’t just fly off like this.

I had returned to my senses!

I glared at the handlebars.

Alright, now I just needed to brake, urk !



“ Ah ?”



Time warped, and the flow of my movement no longer matched that of the bicycle.

The one left behind was me, having just returned from that instant of lost consciousness.

The bicycle accelerated with a few more strides.

And at the centre of it all lay the catastrophe. An incident. A miscalculation.

The brake lever, which I had gripped with all my might, snapped.

It bent with a sharp, sickening crack.

“Ah, uh, what?”

The fragment of the brake lever slipped from my loosened fingers and fell to the ground with a light clatter. The front wheel of the bicycle wobbled left and right with a shallow, rhythmic rattling. The bicycle refused to stop, unsettling the rider to the point where staying upright felt like a miracle. The finish line loomed closer and closer, and retirement was simply not an option.

A cold shiver ran through me, and the blood drained from my face.

It felt as though the wind might catch me and fling my body backward.

“It’s here, it’s here, it’s here!”

In stark contrast to the excitement inside the basket, all my mouth could do was scream.

My vision turned blood-red, as if tears of blood were about to overflow at any second.

My own screams filled the surroundings, reaching a crescendo before plunging into total silence. The rising tide of anxiety brought by this unforeseen disaster caused my breath to hitch. It wouldn’t have been strange if even my heart had stopped for a couple of seconds.

This was bad, bad, bad!

The brakes, the brakes have failed! And both of them! My teeth chattered so violently that I couldn’t let out anything but screams! It was a sickening, squelching sensation! Aaaah, the acceleration AaaaAaaah!

There were more goosebumps than there were birds, and the strength to dream of wings was more noble than anyone’s. But I couldn’t fly!

The end of the downhill slope loomed all at once. And along with it, the end of my life?

You’ve got to be kidding me!

I howled. I howled. I was loud. Truly loud. Yet, in inverse proportion to that noise, my mind began to settle. Little Smakin stood up almost entirely, leaning forward and shifting her centre of gravity.

It felt as though I weren’t trying to stop a bicycle with failed brakes, but rather trying to accelerate it.


The sound of wheels turning echoed.


It was a sound like “Gaoooooooo” something gouging the ground, or perhaps scrapping it.

That sound crushed all other noises, much like a pulveriser.

My earlobes, swollen and engorged with excess blood, stung as the wind irritated them. The edges of my wide-open eyes grew dry, causing tears to well up naturally. My cheeks had stiffened and bulged like clumps of neglected clay, and my face remained contorted without any sign of relaxing. My arms remained motionless, gripped tightly around the bicycle handlebars, making it impossible to let go. Keeping the bicycle travelling in a straight line was the absolute limit of my strength.

My chin was tilted upward, and with a rhythmic, trembling throat, I glared straight ahead.

The bicycle and I raced down the slope, as if attempting to cut through the very horizon where the blue of the sky and sea merged. Even for a descent, the speed was excessive, bordering on what could only be described as out of control. Occasionally, the front wheel lifted into the air, performing small, frantic leaps. I knew that if I made even the slightest error in steering and the bike tipped over, I would have to prepare for my skin to be torn right off unless I happened to be wearing a yellow helmet.

Despite the danger, my legs kicked harder against the pedals. I kept them spinning as if trying to break them.

I felt as though I had become a part of the bicycle itself. Cold sweat poured out incessantly, soaking the area around my shoulder blades, and my skin writhed with a restless sensation, as if it were about to peel away. It was a feeling born from having already experienced exactly what kind of future awaited the bicycle, myself, and Smakin, who sat nestled in the basket.

Yes, it was bound to fall.

And yet, I continued descending the slope.

It was like an uphill climb following a steep descent, prepared specifically for a leap. The momentum from the descent knew no bounds, driving me up the slope. My speed did not die. Rather, I even felt as though I were accelerating.

I reached the top of the slope and leaned my body back. Though my fingertips were beginning to feel congested from gripping so tightly, I ignored the sensation, gripped the handlebars even harder, and directed the bicycle upward. Using a technique similar to a wheelie, I lifted up.

It was like a fish leaping from the vast ocean for a brief moment.

Like leaping from the sea, driven by a longing for the light.

Driven by a struggle strikingly similar to that, I aimed for the sun and the open sky.

My head and the sides of my eyes were dyed pure white as they took in the light, and my open mouth was screaming something.

The air swirled, swallowing that scream, until nothing could be heard.

And then, I flew.

Flying through the sky on a bicycle.

However.

At the very moment I began to soar, the consciousness clinging to the back of my head suddenly wondered.


How did things end up like this, again?


“This, iz, be, cauz!”

My throat trembled, ravaged by the swallowing wind, and though I looked as if I were on the verge of tears, I screamed.

This, is, be, cause!

I am a ''Seishun Otoko''!

And because a ''Denpa Onna'' was riding in my bicycle basket, IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII! I! I! I! I! I! As for the rest!

“Can!”

“That’s it!”

IIIIIIIIIIIIII! CaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAANNN!

““FfflllyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyYYYYYYYYYY      YYY

YYY

yyyy

yyy

yyyyyy!””



To cut a long story short, the bicycle flew through the air.

For about two seconds.

My flight, which was even less reliable than Icarus’s wings, covered just a little further than last time.

So.

After that, of course, it was all “Woooiiiiuuuuaaauuuaaagahgobogobobobogo!”, and I went head over heels.



“Ah?”

In the midst of the freefall, time seemed to slow as if we had come to a standstill in mid-air.

Below, the green expanse of the sea stretched out, and my view was hazy, as if a filter had been applied.

The scattered reflections of light upon the water’s surface strangely failed to catch my eye.

And then, I saw “myself” floating there upon the surface of that very water.

[[File:DTS Vol 08 186.jpg|thumb|And then, I saw “myself” floating there upon the surface of that very water.]]

With a vacant expression, “I” gazed up vacantly at my falling form.

Beside that figure, a girl with light blue hair was also floating, just as she had at some point in the past.

What was this?

By the time I finally shook off the haze of my dreamlike state, it was too late.

By the time I finally shook off the haze of my dreamlike state, it was too late.

In that instant, our eyes met, and we were both struck with sheer horror.

Then, our foreheads collided with a bone-cracking force.



“Baa?”

It seemed I had lost consciousness for several seconds after the fall. When I came to, I was sinking, my shoulders pulling me down toward the bottom of the sea. My bicycle sank along with me. This time, I held onto the handlebars tightly, as if we were destined to sink together. “Don’t mess with me,” I snapped, anger surging through me, though I couldn’t tell what exactly I was angry at, as I turned my face toward the surface.

Beyond the depths, a shadow floated upon the sea, looking as if it were covering the sun like a futon.

It was a rounded shadow. Its drifting, weightless form resembled an Adamski-type UFO.

Relieved by this, I began to ascend along with my bicycle.

I kicked my legs, moving slowly and making sure not to panic.

I was fortunate that I had lost consciousness for only a few seconds. If it had been dozens of seconds, I would undoubtedly have died. I wondered if my arms were broken or my legs. My entire body was tormented by intense pain from the clumsy dive, and I couldn’t even tell where I was injured. The tinnitus in my ears combined with the sound of the water, making my inner ear feel unsteady.

As soon as my face broke the surface, I began vomiting water. Everything that had accumulated in my stomach and nose was expelled naturally, like a fountain at exactly three o’clock. A pathetic, retching sound escaped my throat, and eventually, tears began to flow.

It probably took about a minute before I regained my composure.

It was only when the sensation in my fingertips, which were gripping the bicycle handlebars, had completely returned that I finally lifted my head.

There, floating before my eyes and swaying with the waves, was Little Smakin.

From any perspective, I must have looked like a total wreck.

“Hey.”

I called out to her. I offered a greeting, feigning the attitude of someone meeting her for the first time. In response, Smakin replied.

“Yo.”

A hand poked out from beneath the futon. With a conflicted feeling, I directed my words toward that hand.

“Any particular thoughts?”

After a brief pause, Little Smakin sent her next message. In that hand was a piece of notebook paper, so waterlogged from the sea that it had lost its original shape. It seemed she intended to attempt a conversation without ever leaving the safety of her futon.

…She was a stubborn one.

“The paper is all soggy, so it’s hard to write.”

“Is that so? Well then, I’ll take my time listening once you come out from under that futon.”

Regardless, I decided to make my way out of the sea. Fortunately, it seemed my arm wasn’t broken this time. While not exactly at full strength, my limbs were functional enough to paddle through the water. However, because I had to drag my bicycle along with me, it was more gruelling than the last time. The incoming waves also felt stronger than last spring.

“Can you even swim in that outfit?”

With a soft chuckle, Little Smakin nodded and floated on her back. She began to move forward like she was doing the backstroke, kicking her legs vigorously. Even as she was nearly swallowed by the waves, she skilfully headed toward the shore, so I followed after her. The impact of hitting the surface of the sea had not yet faded, and I moved my body in a sort of trance.

I made my way back to the beach while dragging my bicycle. My head spun, tossed about by the exhaustion and a sense of emptiness that gripped my entire body. My breathing was heavy, and my body trembled from the cold wind and the lingering excitement. My wet clothes were merely heavy and uncomfortable.

As I coughed, seawater spilt from my mouth. It seemed I had swallowed quite a bit, as something salty sloshed at the bottom of my stomach. I worried about the excess salt. I lifted my chin, feeling the numbness in my limbs grow stronger.

“…It doesn’t feel like anything has ended.”

It didn’t feel right. Last time, I felt as though some sort of closure had been reached.

This time, I couldn’t help but feel a premonition that there was still more to come.

As if responding to my monologue, Little Smakin twisted her body and held up a blurred message.

“Please rest assured, thanks to you, my objective has been achieved.”

“…Oh, really?”

Regardless, she wasn’t saying it in the way I had hoped.

Little Smakin skipped lightly across the sandy beach, looking as happy as could be.

“If you could bring me closer to the sky for even a moment, my family in space would have been able to detect me. After that, they will be able to pull me back up.”

“…Your backstory lacks consistency right until the very end.”

I let out a bitter laugh as my feet grew tangled. I nearly fell, but the bicycle steadied me as I climbed from the sandy beach onto the road. As soon as I got home, I would have to service the bike. I needed to minimise the rust. The brakes were broken too, so the fact that I couldn’t rush was another downside.

“Before we go home, would you mind coming with me for a moment?”

Little Smakin, scurrying ahead, turned back to extend that invitation.

“Where are we going? If it’s far, we won’t.”

My words came out halting, as if crushed by the weight of my sodden uniform. I kicked away the seawater dripping from my hair and pulled off my shoes. Since my wet socks felt unbearably uncomfortable, I took those off as well and shoved everything into the basket.

I stepped onto the road, feeling the bare skin of my feet press against the pavement and the scattered sand. I wondered how many years it had been since I last walked a path barefoot.

“It’s right by the slope, so we’ll be there soon.”

She pointed upward. “Huh?” I muttered, looking toward the sky with suspicion. The sun spread directly overhead, dazzling my eyes.

“Is there something you need?”

“I like high places.”

“Is it because you’re an airhead? Or is it because of the smoke?<ref name="ftn40">A reference to the Japanese proverb “Fools and smoke like high places”. Because smoke rises to high places, and some people like to elevate themselves to positions where they are incompetent, making them appear like fools.</ref>”

“Both.”

She was the type who continued to spin endless, baseless stories until the very end. Exhausted by both her arguments and her denials, I looked down and silently followed after Little Smakin. This time, Smakin was being persistent, still wrapped in her futon.

I hoped she would take it off soon so that my leap wouldn’t be in vain.

I walked toward the slope, leaving several dark, mottled patches of water behind on the road. As I reached the incline, I felt a sudden impulse to just drop my bicycle and lie down right there, but I gritted my teeth and kept pushing the handlebars. The ringing in my ears had not yet stopped, nor had the pain from where my entire body had slammed against the surface of the sea subsided. Despite having been cold until now, my body began to grow increasingly warm. I felt as though I might end up like a piece of dried fish at this rate.

“We’re there.”

Little Smakin came to a halt in front of the guardrail. She stood beside the chipped paint of the rail on a slope that felt as if it had been prepared solely for taking flight, with no sign of any cars approaching from the other side of the road. I stopped my bicycle as well and stood beside her.

Below the guardrail lay cliffs, reefs, and the vast, open ocean. The very things I had leaped over twice before spread out beneath my feet. As I gazed down, I felt as though I might be suddenly sucked in, and I hurriedly pulled my body back. In contrast to me, Little Smakin seemed to be staring blankly up at the sky.

“So, is there something actually here?”

“Sun-drying. It’s so hot in here, you could almost steam a bun.”

“Let’s go home.”

“Just kidding. Someone should be arriving soon, so I’ll wait.”

“Arriving? …Hey, are you still acting like an eccentric?”

Since I had acted so dramatically, it would be a scam if there weren’t some kind of result to show for it.

Even if it lacked context, I figured it would work out somehow.

“Oh, and also, I feel like expressing my gratitude.”

She bowed her head deeper than usual.

“What’s all this all of a sudden?”

“Well, I feel like you’ve looked after me in many ways.”

“After all you’ve done, you’re actually worried about gratitude… I can’t even imagine a way to hold a favour over an alien.”

I wasn’t angry, but her lack of sincerity was just as excessive as Yashiro’s.

“I hope you get to go to space while you’re still alive.”

“I wonder. I just hope my lifespan and the advancement of science align perfectly.”

Leaning against the guardrail, I narrowed my eyes toward the azure horizon. The bicycle, the sea, Smakin. Everything that had been by my side when my youth in this town began was all right there.

“Oh, by the way, you…”

“Hm?”

“I’m foreshadowing suggestively.”

“Just say it already.”

“Ah, I ran out of paper.”

I shrugged. Even if she asked me to restock, I didn’t have any spares left.

Besides, the contents of my bag were a complete mess.

As I watched her with a sense of lethargy, wondering what to do, Little Smakin held up a fresh sheet of paper.

Just as I started to smile, thinking that she actually had some,

“It can’t be helped, I guess.”

“……!”

Little Smakin pulled her arms back, and then.

She lifted the duvet with a light touch, as if it had never been binding her at all.

With a clatter, permanent markers and stacks of paper scattered across the floor as if by some magic trick. Without even bothering to pick them up, Little Smakin swung the futon loosely, revealing her true identity.

The face that had been hidden beneath the futon.

Her hair.

And her overflowing particles.

“Who are you?”

“I told you, I’m an alien.”

For the first time, she spoke words from her won voice.

And my eyes widened at the true face of Little Smakin, now revealed from beneath the duvet.

That face smiled innocently, and she thrust her arm out toward me.

“Give my regards to Master.”

While I stood there dazed by Little Smakin’s “true identity”, she turned her back to me. She cast aside the duvet, and the girl who was no longer Smakin let her long hair be swept away by the wind. That wind drifted toward me.

What rose into the air were particles.

Particles emitting a fleeting light brushed against my cheek before drifting away weightlessly.

“Ah, here it comes.”

The girl murmured, looking upward. As I followed her gaze and lifted my chin, I saw something dazzling.

The midday sun was suspended in the sky like a clock, momentarily blinding me. Caught off guard by the overwhelming light, I instinctively reached out my hand. I covered my eyes as if to create a shade, enduring for a moment the pain that seeped into me like lukewarm water. I expected tears to fall, but contrary to my expectation, nothing came.

Even so, for some reason, I pulled my hand away after wiping my eyes with my fingers. A haze of light remained seared into my vision, making me feel as if I were treading the boundary between dreams and reality. My inner ear felt unsteady, and a sense of dizziness washed over me.

“…Huh, what?”

It was only after I made a gesture as if to clear away that untouchable haze with my palm that I realised. She wasn’t there.

Little Smakin, who had been standing there just a few seconds ago, had vanished. She was like Hoshimiya Yashiro, who had disappeared from the surroundings the moment a meteorite fell. It was as if both her shadow and her form had been lost within the pouring light.

All that remained were the iris-patterned futon sprawled sloppily on the ground and my writing utensils. When I picked them up without much thought, I found a message on the top sheet of paper that hadn’t been there until a moment ago.

“Thank you very much.”

I stared at those words twice before peering into the sea. I had become worried that, perhaps, she had jumped.

I strained my eyes against the surface of the sea. Amidst the gentle movement of the waves, no foreign object could be found. Even as I continued to stare, forgetting to blink, there was no sign of a girl floating there. No, that wasn’t right; I looked up once more.

I tightened the muscles around my eyes to face the sun. The brilliance of the solar disc. I directed my gaze toward whatever lay beyond it. As my eyes continued to absorb the light that acted as an obstruction, the vision within them gradually began to change colour, as if algae were proliferating.

I searched for any trace of the girl. I reached out, as if toward the source of those particles that had drifted away on the wind.

This town truly forced strange experiences upon me. A fragment of an extraterrestrial lifeform, fluttering provocatively like a celestial robe. If I tried to push it away, it would pursue me, and if I tried to grasp it, it would recede. It asserted its existence loudly, yet while evading any absolute proof, it approached me in a way that left me in a state of doubt.

In the end, those types of people would always vanish, leaving behind just a tiny hint of their extraterrestrial nature.

“…Ha ha, ha… hah.”

Aliens were such an incredibly roundabout bunch.

And so, I was entangled by them, tossed about by them, and danced through the sky.

That was my…

“It’s my Youth!”

I shouted toward the vast ocean, the sea breeze searing the back of my throat.

Within a vision saturated by light and rendered completely useless, I curled my lips into a smirk.

I chose to intentionally abandon my pursuit of those mysteries, suffering a total defeat to their love for “space”.

I held up my remaining duvet like a victory flag, letting it flutter powerfully in the sky.

And then.

Toward whoever was watching us from beyond the heavens, if one could even say so.

I called out the end to those aliens.



Hi, this was Niwa Makoto.


-----
*While falling, I found something like “me”: ±0
*Once again, I cannot fly: +5
'''Current total Youth Points:''' ±0
-----
<noinclude>
{| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;"
|-
| Back to [[Denpa Onna to Seishun Otoko:Volume8_Chapter3-C|Chapter 3-C]]
| Return to [[Denpa Onna to Seishun Otoko|Main Page]]
| Forward to [[Denpa Onna to Seishun Otoko:Volume8_Curtain_Call|Curtain Call]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>